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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Midnight”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I’d like to extend a formal congratulations to every Cinder fan in the community. Criticisms of the writing aside, you all struck gold with twelve whole minutes devoted to your fave and I’m absolutely thrilled for you.

We again start with a dark screen and some audio, in this case Cinder’s scrubbing. This technique—along with closeups on eyes—is a real favorite of RWBY’s this volume, to the point where I think they’re a little too enamored with it. But at least this is just a preference, not something that actively harms the storytelling in any way, so it’s welcome to stay. This time, unlike our premiere, we stay on Cinder as her life is summed up with three events intercut with one another: scrubbing floors, getting taunted by boys, and the sound of heels making their way towards her. It’s clear that Cinder leads a poor, miserable life, if her dirty clothes and stronger guys throwing her around is any indication, but all that changes when the rich woman says “I’ll take her” and Cinder is transported to a better life in a wealthy hotel.

At least supposedly.

Here’s my problem with the worldbuilding. This moment has Witcher vibes and Witcher, in turn, built itself off of a trope seen a hundred times before: A young woman is treated terribly by her family, is whisked away by a wealthy/powerful caretaker, and though her life has arguably improved, she quickly learns that the new world she’s entered is just as dangerous and harsh as the one she left. In Witcher’s case, Yennefer is a disabled woman abused by her family, bought by Tissaia, and taken to Aretuza where the other girls hate her and the curriculum is potentially deadly. Cinder is a poor woman arguably abused by her family (scrubbing)/the locals (fights), is taken by an unnamed woman, and whisked away to the swanky hotel where the daughters hate her and the work is potentially deadly due to shock collars. The difference between these two setups is that Tissaia bought Yennefer because of her magical potential. Why does our hotel lady take Cinder?

I mean yeah, obviously she wants a slave, but it’s a little weird isn’t it? Usually when a young woman falls headfirst into a new and questionable life, there’s a solid reason for her entry. This woman—whose lack of a name also says something about the worldbuilding—could have hired anyone she pleased to abuse. As we saw in regards to Atlas and Mantle in the past, every city has its poor and downtrodden. So what made her go out to some random farm and snatch Cinder up? It just, as always, feels a little too convenient. Cinder didn’t enter this life because something about her characterization or origin justified it, the plot simply ensured that she, out of everyone possible, and with very little reason, was the one chosen to follow The Plot™ .

It also messes with the Cinderella parallels. Originally (or “originally,” going off of Disney here which is likely what RWBY is using as a template too) it’s her step-family that abuses her and yes, we recreate that via the hiring (“hiring”—I doubt she was paid), but Cinder was already scrubbing floors back home. Her status as the servant already existed. So why change locations? Why not just keep Cinder as an abused farm girl, or have her a part of the hotel family right from the start? Part of the reason why Cinderella resonates is because of the contrast between the happy life with her father and the new, horrific life she falls into once he dies. Which is then further contrasted by the rest of the outside world. Fairy Godmother, Prince, and party-goers alike are all presented as kind, decent people. They represent the “real” world that Cinderella can escape to. By making Cinder’s original life horrible, her new life worse, and everyone connected with that life cruel and/or indifferent (with the exception of this one, special huntsmen)… you paint a very different picture of the world as a whole. Which is something RWBY has been vocal about trying to accomplish—it’s not a fairy tale—the only problem is with how these moments are undermined the second the story wants Ruby to ~Believe in People~. Cinderella is a story about enduring and eventually overcoming temporary hardship. Cinder’s story is about endless hardship that creates villains. A dark and fascinating story… but how does that fit into last week’s episode where Ruby told the whole world about Salem, expecting them to band together in peace and harmony? This is how Remnant’s world treats people when there’s not a global crisis, and Cinder isn’t even a faunus.

Which, I want to make clear going into the rest of this recap, does not excuse Cinder for her actions. At all. I think there are some complicated acknowledgements to be made in terms of her abuse and the Huntsmen’s responsibility in it continuing, but that does not give Cinder a blanket pass for all the horrific shit she has pulled over the years. Cinder didn’t just defend herself from abusers, she became one. More on that in a minute.

First though… is the Huntsmen’s name Rhodes? Did we hear that in the episode? If we did, I totally missed it because I have a note here about the one important character not getting a name. So yeah, idk. If we got this from more supplemental info, bad RWBY. If I missed it, bad Clyde. Either way, I’ll use that name going forward.

Back to the plot at hand. The hotel is, as said, populated by indifferent and shallow people and there’s no desert nearby, so I presume we’re supposed to be in Atlas? (Why did this woman buy a girl from another Kingdom?) There are customers getting drunk, flirting, and generally just enjoying their wealth, which harkens back to Weiss’ comment in Volume 4 about all their problems being superficial. We’re introduced to the owner’s two daughters who are, as expected, quintessential Mean Girls.

They love ordering Cinder around, not just with hotel chores, but personal ones as well like, “rub my feet”… despite the fact that this place is massive and must have an equally massive staff to stay in business. Why aren’t the girls terrorizing anyone else? Again, it makes sense for Cinder(ella) to be the focus of their abuse when she’s in a single household, but transplanting that to a hotel raises a lot of questions that RWBY hasn’t bothered to examine. You can’t move a story like that and not think about what further changes that would evoke.

See, RWBY could have done something interesting here by considering some of those other changes. Like having one or both step-sisters be the one to help free Cinder from her abuse, playing the villain before becoming the fairy godmother. Up until she turns villain instead of hero, this is just Cinderella’s story copy and pasted into RWBY. It’s moments like this that should make us wary of using fairy tale allusions as evidence for our readings and theories. Whether RWBY is deconstructing or upholding a story varies wildly, and we never know what we’ll get until we actually see it on screen. Even then we can’t count on a choice remaining consistent, as we saw with Ironwood’s deconstruction being tossed out the window in Volume 7.

Cinder is originally just as meek as her fairy tale counterpart too. We don’t hear her speak until the owner is about to leave when she simply goes, “Food?” The sisters laugh at her and a roll is thrown to the floor with the comment that she should get busy because it “looks filthy.” I quite like that moment. Your job is to ensure the floors are clean enough to eat off of—literally.

We see a montage of Cinder doing just that, lots of chores, with a new song listing all the tasks she’s now responsible for. During this, Rhodes is seen in the background and witnesses when Cinder (presumably) first uses her semblance by heating up the brush and chucking it at the sisters, creating a massive cloud of steam.

It’s that moment which “earns” her a shock session with her necklace and I’m staring at the screen, a little open-mouthed. I mean, that’s the second child torture we’ve seen this volume (with Cinder being ten here). Again, I’m not making a specific accusation, just going, “Really?”

Also, note the anti-faunus sign. Nothing like continually showing us racist establishments rather than actually writing a story that deals with the racism needless put into the story world. I’d like to remind everyone of my previous comments this Volume about how the story works hard to paint Mantle as sympathetic, but refuses to show anything that does the same for Atlas citizens, people who are in just as much danger with Salem as an equalizer. A whole city is not actually made up of shallow racists, the show is just showing us only those people to create a simplistic “They’re all bad” reading that encourages us to reject Atlas and, by extension, Ironwood. Weiss is walking proof that Atlas citizens are both complex individuals and capable of bettering themselves. If we can come to adore the Schnee heiress, we should be questioning why nearly every other citizen is painted as an abuser, too wealthy to care, or has conveniently left the story (Rhodes dead, Klein gone, Whitley rejected, etc.).

As Cinder is being tortured, we see that she’s forced to say, “Without you, I am nothing.” Now see, this is excellent... in theory. This is the kind of line we needed to hear with some consistency over the last seven years (if RWBY still insisted on waiting that long for a backstory), setting up that this line is clearly engrained in Cinder and she repeats it on instinct. Instead—to my recollection, anyway—we only get it this Volume, in two episodes. If it appeared before then it wasn’t notable enough to remember. I commented on this before, but it wasn’t a, “Ah, this line must be important” reaction, it was a “Lol why is RWBY using the same line twice? That’s weird.” By only giving it to us twice before the backstory and in such a short timeframe, the impact of this reveal is lost. We’re only now realizing that the line is important, rather than coming to realize why.

Our writers know just enough to recognize what techniques work, but not enough to have figured out what makes them tick. They get that providing a RWBY-vised version of Cinderella is cool, but not how to adapt that 100% successfully. They know that repeated lines have power, but not how to create good setup for the reveal. They know the camera should use closeups, but not what moments are important enough to warrant that. RWBY, eight years on, still feels like a newbie writer copying what the great stories are doing without yet understanding why those aspects work and, thus, how to recreate them.

I mean, Cinder’s backstory appearing now attests to that most obviously. I waved at the Cinder fans before, but the reality is that most viewers don’t care, either because Cinder herself is so bland, and/or because the story waited too long to make her a little more interesting. This entire flashback was handled badly simply by virtue of it arriving over seven years past the character’s introduction.

So after this torture session Cinder steals Rhode’s sword. We hear some dialogue in the background of him getting pissed that it’s missing and the sisters promising to find it, implying that Cinder will have this tool at her disposal for a while. Instead, seconds later he’s found her hideout and confronts her. I don’t know if I’m impressed with Rhode’s skills, or rolling my eyes at how contrived this all is. Chuck in the question of whether Cinder was talented enough to steal the sword out from under him, or if Rhodes was stupid enough to leave it lying around, and I’m edging towards the eye rolling.

He dodges Cinder’s attack, rolls her more weapons to prove he’s not here to hurt her, and acknowledges that she’s not getting “the most fair treatment.” Okay, here’s where things start to get complicated. Rhodes tells Cinder she shouldn’t run away because then she’ll be running her whole life (don’t really agree with that). He likewise (rightly imo) tells her not to straight up murder them because look, no matter how much of a shit stain someone is, I can’t condone slamming a sword through their chest on an individual’s say-so (especially when two of those people are also kids growing up under an abuser, like Whitely). So what’s left? Rhodes says Cinder can train to become a huntress. At ten years old, she has seven years to prepare for the exam.

But she has to stay with her abusive family until then.

My problem is far less with the claim that this “has” to happen and far more with the writing’s failure to tell us why. Cinder could have begged to come with Rhodes and he says she can’t because… idk. Make up a reason. He doesn’t make enough to feed the both of them. It would be too dangerous out on missions without training and he doesn’t have a permanent place to stay (hence using the hotel all the time). He could even go the “They’re your legal guardians” route with more explanation because it’s arguable that Rhodes had no idea about the collar. Doesn’t mean Cinder’s treatment isn’t “that bad” in his eyes, just that he might not have known the extent and thus thought it was preferable for Cinder to put up with “just” being insulted and overworked until she’s 17. That this life that he only has a partial picture of is preferable to the life she’d have at his side. Something to explain the stakes here, the risks, and why he took this stance.

And/or give us a reason why Cinder doesn’t try to run, a suggestion I make very cautiously because it’s not my intention to put the responsibility solely on her. This isn’t meant to be a “Just save yourself! It’s easy!” claim. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that young, barely trained kids go out into the world all the time in this show—Ruby, Oscar—and it’s an acknowledgement that Cinder tugged off her collar easy-peasy. The point is, practically speaking, Cinder could have left and braved the streets like Emerald did… so give us a reason why she decided to stay. Maybe she’s scared of living on the streets, acknowledging that a little food and a place to sleep is better than nothing. Maybe she’s scared that if she doesn’t have a direct connection to the hotel (convenience), Rhodes won’t train her anymore. Maybe, as an abuse victim, she can’t articulate why she won’t leave, she just can’t. Something to acknowledge these gaps because, right now, we just have the fandom going, “See? This is why the huntsmen are all evil cops. Rhodes took the lawful route and look where it got Cinder! He’s the responsible adult in this situation, so it’s all his fault.” Problem is, this take ignores:

The fact that our heroes are also huntsmen and were pretending to be huntsmen before they had those lawful licenses. So what does that make them? We can’t continually criticize these professional roles without criticizing our heroes’ use of them as well. Ruby just ensured the world would take her message seriously by introducing herself as a huntress. We can’t condemn these laws and privileges while likewise letting Ruby continue to use them however she please. It’s okay if she’s a part of the system, because Ruby is inherently good! That’s not how this works. I’ve just described every American cop show that tumblr is currently turning against: The system is corrupt and needs to be overhauled, but our protagonists are different.

The story fails to tell us why Rhodes won’t do more outside of a single line about Cinder being of legal age. That just acknowledges that age has some bearing on his decision, not whether it outweighs other considerations (can Cinder survive if she leaves?), or whether Rhodes even has a full picture of what’s happening to her (the collar). The takeaway is that we don’t know what his though process was because RWBY didn’t show it to us, not that his thought process is automatically awful.

Rhodes, as a literal stranger entering her life, is not 100% responsible for what happens to Cinder. I know people don’t want to acknowledge that because leaving a child in that situation is absolutely horrific, but if RWBY wants to be ~realistic~ (and it does) then we need to acknowledge that reality too. If you saw a child employee getting yelled at in a hotel and then found her with your sword, would you rip the collar off her neck and be like, “Congratulations, you’re my child now”? Nice as that trope is, probably not! Or hell, maybe a lot of you would upend your life and risk legal action to whisk them away, but a lot of other people wouldn’t... and they're not the devil for doing what they can within the bounds of the law. The idea that because Rhodes unexpectedly had one (1) encounter with Cinder means he’s now responsible for her life and outcome is, well, crazy. “But, Clyde, you can’t just see that kind of horror and not do something about it.” You’re right. You know what you do? Tell the authorities. But does Remnant have the equivalent of social workers? We don’t know! Which means we can’t assume that Rhodes didn’t call them just because he’s a bad person. Or maybe they exist and the fandom considers them too corrupt to be useful, like so many other authorities in this show. So… what else is there for him to do? There doesn’t seem to be anyone above Rhodes that he can turn to, he doesn’t (for whatever reason) want to essentially kidnap Cinder and start a new life with her, so what’s left? Try to give Cinder a healthy relationship and a way to escape in the long run, which is precisely what Rhodes did.

Honestly, I’m kind of salty that this guy went out of his way to help her, he saw what everyone else saw and was the only one who would help her, but because he didn’t do more—because he didn’t entirely upend his life and/or risk arrest to take her away to this hypothetically better situation—the fandom is acting like it’s his fault Cinder killed her abusers. It’s not. Cinder made that choice.

At the end of the day, blaming Rhodes reveals the expectation that it’s his responsibility to solve this massive problem purely because he had the bad luck to be the one Cinder stole from. That’s like telling a teacher who learns about abuse from a paper that following the lawful channels and going out of his way to assist the child in other ways is responsible when the kid murders their family one day. “Why didn’t you just barge into the house and take the kid?!” Because there are a hundred reasons why that would go incredibly badly? Rhodes can’t help Cinder if he’s in jail. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if she ends up dead on a mission while following him. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if their attempt at escape fails and she bears the punishment.

The only thing I think Rhodes did absolutely wrong was giving Cinder the sword while she was still under the owner’s thumb. Stupid, but not cruel. And again, stupid does not equal blanket responsibility. I’m likewise seeing, “Rhodes gave her the sword and thus it’s his fault that Cinder got in trouble. It’s his fault they died. What was Cinder supposed to do, not defend herself?” Are people forgetting that Cinder stole the sword herself in the beginning and then readily accepted it again? She had agency in obtaining weaponry and what she wanted it for. Are people forgetting that, in accepting it, she likewise accepted the risk of keeping it hidden in the hotel? Are people forgetting that the time skip shows this happening years later and that Rhodes clearly thought Cinder was past her murderous streak? Are people forgetting that Cinder killed the owner by snapping her neck and resisting the shock collar, no sword required? She could have killed them any time she pleased based on the crime scene, whether Rhodes had given her a weapon or not. The weapon was just the catalyst that, truthfully, could have been caused by anything else. Cinder snaps when they find the sword and she’s tortured. Cinder snaps when she drops another tray and she’s tortured. She had planned to kill her abusers and never completely let go of that.

Honestly, I’m just annoyed that we have another good hearted, takes action, does his best and makes some mistakes character getting blamed for everything another character chose to do, erasing their agency in the process. Rhodes did not abuse Cinder. Rhodes did not force her to kill her actual abusers. And Rhodes is certainly not responsible for what Cinder later becomes. Could Rhodes have done more? Of course, but every character could always do more.

The tl;dr is that this complex situation needed far better setup in the show and the fandom needs to stop using that lack of setup as “proof” that characters are horrible people when they fail to magically fix said complicated, badly explained problems. Cinder chose to murder three people. Whether that was justified in the face of her abuse is up to you to decide, but it was still her choice. Please stop blaming the adult male characters for the choices the teenage girls in this show make. RWBY is too convoluted and attempting to tackle too many complex issues to reduce that to, “Every man here is the evil, responsible party and ever girl is a #queen. Even when they go on to murder Pyrrha ^_^” As a woman who would very much like to be rooting for the mostly-woman cast more than I now do, this isn’t the feminist take people want it to be.

But I’ve jumped waaaay ahead. Let’s backtrack a bit.

That first interaction between Rhodes and Cinder is super weird because the camera keeps covering Rhodes’ face and I don’t know why.

We segue into that montage of him training her for presumably years (Cinder’s hair changes) until we see him giving her the sword in what’s meant to be a moment of pride and trust. Soon after, Rhodes (randomly) comes back to the hotel when everyone else is asleep and hears noises in the back. Moving to check them out, he discovers that Cinder has murdered the two sisters and is in the process of murdering the owner, throwing back the line, “Without you, I am nothing, but because of you, I am everything.” Again, much more impactful if this had been a line we’ve associated with Cinder for years now, not a couple of episodes.

After she breaks the owner’s neck (damn, strong hand!) she tells Rhodes she doesn’t have to run anymore. Cinder clearly expects him to be happy for her and is shocked when he takes out his weapons.

I’m sorry, this is not a “betrayal.” Could Rhodes have just let Cinder go? Sure. Should he have? Given what she becomes, that’s very debatable! Rhodes clearly thought he’d helped her grow into someone who was not inclined towards murder (giving her the sword) and thus is probably going to be a little rattled when he walks in to find her killing three people. Again, there are obvious differences given the level of abuse Cinder seems to have suffered in comparison, but imagine that Glynda, after teaching Weiss for years, walked in on her killing Jacques and Whitley in revenge. Is she supposed to just ignore that? Shrug her shoulders and wish her well? I know a lot of people consider that the “fair” outcome given the inclusion of abuse, but that’s because we’ve had an omniscient view of Cinder’s history and insight into her emotional state. Rhodes doesn’t have that. All he has is his oath as a huntsmen to prevent things like, you know, murder sprees. I’m not going to delve into the overall ethics of a judicial system, either in RWBY or the real world, and thus I’m not going to make any naive claims about it being fair—it’s fucking not—but I don’t think the answer to these systematic problems is, “Why wouldn’t you just let the teenager murder three bad people and then go on her way? She totally deserved it!” Rhodes is not in a position to decide that, which is the entire point of having a judicial system in the first place.

So Rhodes wants to bring Cinder in. Kind of like how Clover wanted to bring Qrow in once he had an arrest warrant. I can’t emphasize enough that wanting to start a legal process rather than letting clearly guilty/potentially guilty people go because they WANT to is not a “betrayal.” Regardless of what teen dramas may have taught us, you don’t have to potentially throw your own freedom and your morals away because you found out a friend is wanted by the authorities. Or you walk in on them currently snapping someone’s neck. There are options other than, “Believe your friend is right without question and help them hide the bodies” (looking at you, Maria, Pietro). Whitely is not insane for going, “Hey, can you not make me an accomplice to a crime by forcing your way in here with a bunch of fugitives?” I’m constantly surprised by the number of fans who can, in one breath, condemn characters for not throwing a middle finger up at the law and in the next praise Jacques’ arrest. Do we want to benefit from this system or not? If yes, that means you have to weigh which laws can be broken (such as in a protest), which should be obeyed (bring murderers and wanted men in), all while working to change the laws that are prejudice and aren’t working.

Anyway, they fight. It’s short and sweet, backdropped by the large clock striking midnight, hence our title. I’m incredibly suspicious of Cinder breaking Rhode’s aura first, given that she’s still the student in training, but here we can more persuasively say he wasn’t fighting seriously, given that he then stupidly rushes towards her without a weapon. Still, that would be the second time now that RWBY has relied on elite fighters “holding back” to explain how the kids in training beat them, the first instance, of course, being with the Ace Ops.

Rhodes does rush Cinder though when she hits the wall and breaks her own aura, clearly concerned. She uses the moment to stab him with both swords. He uses his last breaths to put a hand on her head, conveying that he doesn’t blame her for how this all turned out.

Then Cinder pulls off her collar with a single snap and looks up at the broken moon, crying her single tear.

I’m dragging the flashback for multiple reasons, but I want to emphasize that I think this episode is leagues better from what we got last week. Absolute night and day. It’s just that, as always, improvements are incredibly comparative in RWBY. It’s not really good for numerous reasons… it’s just better than what we’ve gotten before. It’s “great” provided you go in with standards buried in the ground.

We then return to the present as Cinder wakes up in Salem’s whale. This scene gives us a great shot of her grimm arm, so cosplayers take note!

Emerald arrives soon after and immediately rushes to her side, expressing how worried she was. She grabs Cinder’s grimm hand without hesitation. Honestly, I don’t care much about either character… but this single frame activated some sort of ship button in my brain.

Not fully because I’m personally not drawn to toxic relationships in fiction (which, as I’m about to explain, would absolutely be the case here), but just the tinniest bit. Because I’m a sucker for monstrous people being loved despite their monstrous nature, so having Emerald take that hand over the other is like a ship speed run for me.

I’m predictable, folks.

But we need to talk about less happy things for a moment. I mentioned above Cinder becoming an abuser herself. I hope I don’t need to lay out the laundry list of murders, attempted murders, sabotage, and general taking-over-the-world-ness she’s engaged in since Episode One. Don’t let a sad backstory erase all that. Hell, for all we know the hotel owner had a horrific backstory too! Doesn’t justify how she treated Cinder. The point though is beyond her clear status as a villain, we now know that Cinder treats Emerald just like the owner once treated her.

Cinder was “rescued” from her life on the farm by the owner. Emerald is “rescued” from her life on the streets by Cinder.

Both realize over time that the situation they’re now in is actually worse.

Both reiterate that they “owe” the other “everything,” with Cinder having that shocked into her and Emerald seeming to willingly believe it.

The owner treats Cinder as a slave. Cinder treats Emerald as a slave. “Both of you, get out. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.” The only difference is that Cinder’s orders were things like “Scrub floors” and Emerald’s are “Convince an audience this girl attacked our ally.”

Both use threats to keep the other in line: the owner with her shock collar and Cinder with her Maiden powers. Cinder doesn’t need to resort to violence (yet) because Emerald adores her, but the threat is always there.

There are even visual similarities this episode, such as kneeling and gem necklaces, though I acknowledge fully that those are just interesting details as opposed to anything like persuasive proof.

The point is that Cinder became exactly what she hated, she just turned the dial up to eleven by going after the whole world instead of a single child. “But Cinder never had a chance to be anything else.” Sure she did. Blake and Weiss are proof of that. Even if we believe that Cinder was doomed to be a villain due to the extent of her abuse, what does that say about the hotel’s owner? We don’t know anything about her history, so what if she was abused too? Does that mean she was always “doomed” to treat Cinder that way? Does that excuse everything she did to her because she supposedly never stood a chance of becoming anything else? Of course not.

Though very iffily done, this is a commentary on the cycle of abuse. Each case is horrific, but it doesn’t excuse what comes later. Every abuser was once an innocent child and every innocent child has the capability of becoming the next abuser. Cinder’s life up until now was beyond awful and yes, she lacked a lot of privileges that others had to help them head down a better path, like Weiss’ wealth. On the other hand, she lacks other difficulties that would make that path harder for others, like Blake’s status as a faunus. Everyone has a choice to make: Will you treat others the way you were treated because that’s “fair,” or will you decide to treat others better than what you were dealt? There are lots of aspects that factor into the likelihood of someone choosing the latter—which is why I really like Rhode’s hand on Cinder’s head, acknowledging his understanding that she’s an abused kid taking the only path she thinks is available to her—but individual agency is by no means removed from the equation. Cinder escaped her situation and decided she’d never be powerless again. What does that mean to her, perhaps becoming a community member who works to prevent abuse like the kind she suffered? No, it means grinding the entire world under her heel until she’s the only one with power left.

This GIF continues to be the only one I need.

(No, the fact that it comes from a cop show and I’m using it for such an anti-law, anti-establishment story/fandom isn’t lost on me.)

(Also, if anyone is curious, this is why I love Ozpin. Out of everyone in this cast, HE has suffered the most, tenfold, and yet he still chooses to be kinder to those than they’ve been to him.)

Anyway, I should really stick to the plot lol. Cinder realizes that her waking up means that they’ve lost, which I still think is BS. Cinder needed a win to come across as a formidable villain again and the likes of Neo, Emerald, and a Maiden with years of practice under her belt should have wiped the floor with a scientist, retirement grandma, and a girl who got the powers an hour ago. But I again digress.

Mercury reveals that he will no longer be following Cinder’s orders because Salem has a special job for him. They’ve all been told to meet on the bridge.

Then we cut to Ozpin and Oscar.

My poor boy is a mess and Ozpin is in the process of begging Oscar to take a “break.” “I would like to express again that this is my burden to bear, not yours.” Take note, fandom. In a few moments Hazel will accuse Ozpin of being a “coward” because “All this time, it could have been you, but you let him suffer.” I just know a bunch of people will be going, “Yeah! Ozpin just let a kid get tortured instead of him. WTF??” Okay 1. We should always be suspicious of agreeing with the takes villains have and 2. Oscar just refused to let Ozpin do that. It is—again—his choice because he thinks that Hazel is “holding back” with him. Oscar is being a brave and logical dude trying to make the best of this situation for both of them. Don’t take that away from him just to make Ozpin look bad. What would we even want him to do? Take control back? The fandom has been yelling at Ozpin for that since Volume 5.

So they’re going back and forth when Oscar suddenly announces that they “can’t leave yet. This is our chance.”

Ozpin even says he thinks Oscar must have taken one too many hits because… yeah. What? Long story short, Oscar recognizes that they’ll never be this close to Salem’s subordinates again and that they should try to undermine her from the inside out, just like she’s done with the world since she knows she can’t take on everyone at once. I love Oscar taking charge here, I love them speaking in unison, I even love the hope of achieving something epic while in captivity despite my own belief that Oscar should break and reveal the Lamp’s password. What I don’t love is:

Another messy, unexpected belief that Salem made her choices because she “knows” she can’t win any other way. Except that—like Ruby’s line in the recording—Salem’s current attack blows that idea out of the water. She IS taking on the whole world. Granted, Ozpin and Oscar presumably don’t know that the whole world literally knows of her existence now, or that Salem was smiling about it, but they do know that she’s attacking Atlas head on. What else is that except a declaration of war with all of Remnant?

The idea of undermining Salem from the inside via Hazel. For anyone who reads my other metas, I just said that this idea wouldn’t work because Emerald isn’t the one torturing him, the one character who has consistently demonstrated hesitation (or, now, Neo). Hazel despises Ozpin so much that he would never listen to him. He despises him so much he doesn’t even see Oscar as his own person… at least he didn’t before. That’s been retconned now with Hazel going “easy” Oscar and having an actual conversation with Ozpin. Whereas before, he was slamming Oscar into walls and screaming about how he’s going to kill the “murderer” of his sister. They basically softened his character to make this plan possible.

The fact that this scene came about without Oscar and Ozpin ever getting to reconcile their problems. Last we saw them, Oscar was saying how he hated that Ozpin came back and refusing to acknowledge their merge. Now, they’re working together like they’ve always been solid allies. I get that the danger they’re in helps to put it all into perspective, but why can’t we get a few lines of them hashing this out? Or at least putting things aside until they’re out of Salem’s clutches? If you don’t need to re-write Hazel’s character with “he’s going easy on me” lines, you can use that space to deal with the conflict we’ve already established. Especially given the strange choice to have Oscar refuse to give up control and be the one coming up with this plan... but then Ozpin does take control and (maybe, see below) enacts it? I feel like we’ve missed huge chunks of this story. As it is, I wonder if RWBY will bother coming back to this. The questions of if/how Oscar will accept Ozpin and if/how he’ll reveal this secret to the group feels like they’re being swept under the rug and it will likely go unnoticed by a lot of viewers simply due to how intense the kidnapping plot is.

So things are a little messy, but otherwise enjoyable, and they’re about to get downright confusing. For me, anyway. See, Hazel reveals that he follows Salem because she can’t be beaten (cue my continued worry about Ruby telling the whole WORLD). She “can’t be stopped. She’s a force of nature,” and Ozpin is fighting a “cause with no victory, no end.” He yells back that “Someone has to try!”—bless this man—and then looks down at the ground going, “Salem can be fought. Unless… she brings the Relics together, if that happens…” and mentions summoning the Gods.

So here’s my confusion. The scene makes it feel like Ozpin is planting some sort of seed in Hazel’s head. He and Oscar JUST got done agreeing to try and undermine her from the inside out, then we get this line that feels like him “accidentally” dropping a secret that will turn Hazel against her. Except… Ozpin doesn’t lie here? The line isn’t useful to them as far as I can tell. They are screwed if Salem gets the Relics. …Right? Because if not, why the hell have the heroes been working so hard to keep them out of her hands? So I can’t decide if:

A) This scene is just written badly and none of this is part of the plan to undermine Salem.

B) Ozpin is going, “NO. Don’t collect the RELICS. That would be the WORST THING EVER /s” in an attempt to trick Hazel into doing it anyway and this is somehow supposed to hurt Salem, despite being presented since Volume 5 as the worst outcome for our heroes?

C) Ozpin specifically wants Salem to make the mistake of summoning the Gods because he thinks he’s completed his task? Or something? But what in the world would make him think that—especially without seeing Ruby’s message (not to mention the lack of unity that mess should cause)—or what makes him think the Gods would just destroy Salem regardless of what he’s achieved? If summoning the Gods was ever a defeat Salem option, why hasn’t he done it before?

I’m leaning towards A just because it makes the most sense by far, but that would also mean we had Ozpin and Oscar decide on this plan, have a chance to start this plan… and then didn’t actually do anything. Yelling at Hazel for following Salem isn’t a new strategy, they were doing that before, so what’s new? Or has the new strategy not been revealed yet? Idk, as happy as I am to see them being BAMF together, I’m slightly unsure about how it all hangs together. I’d much rather have an internally consistent and clear outcome that’s predictable (Oscar breaks or just holds out until rescue) rather than what appears like a super cool, badass, unexpected plot on the surface… but crumbles once you poke at the foundation a bit.

So whether Oscar and Ozpin started this plan or not, they’re dragged into the throne room where they’re forced to kneel before Salem. Yikes. She sits on her throne with the Hound, who I’m only now realizing could be read as a messed up Toto

We learn that Tyrian heard from Watts about his incarceration and hacking Penny. What? Okay, I took the time to go back through “Amity” just to find this screenshot.

That’s not a working Scroll! Idk what I thought Watts might do with it at the end of last week, but it wasn’t send a full, uninterrupted message to Salem that updates her on everything that’s gone down in Atlas. This thing is toast! Moments like this make me question how much communication there really is between the writers and the animators, despite last Volume’s disaster with Oscar telegraphing his punch like whoa. Are we still getting that level of miscommunication?

Salem then punishes Cinder for disobeying her by hurting her grimm arm. See, this here (for me, anyway) is the mark of a newbie writer. When the moment first started I went, “Oh nice. Just like the shock collar!” Then the scene made that abundantly clear by cutting to flashbacks of Cinder in her collar. That’s too heavy-handed. We already got the parallel, but then the show went, “Do you get it??” It shows that the writers are too scared that the viewers won’t get it, that their nuance will be lost, so they scramble to make it as obvious as possible, rather than trusting in their own writing.

And if you’re like, “So you want RWBY to be more clear and also… less clear?” the answer is, sadly, yes lol. The things that are already confusing due to retconning and inconsistent themes need to be made explicit, whereas the details that are already strong don’t need an in-your-face, “Okay, but did you really get the parallel here? We’re just making sure.” It’s like launching into explaining why a joke is funny when it’s already landed vs. telling a nonsensical joke and then waiting for the laugh that will never come. RWBY struggles in both areas.

Salem delves into this speech about how this is actually all her fault and she should let Cinder spread her wings or something. AKA, go free Watts and track down Penny. Then you can have your precious Maiden powers.

There’s a massive earthquake across Mantle and we watch a + medical symbol go out. Again, heavy-handed. We don’t need that in order to understand that the whole city shaking while the grimm look happily up to the sky is a bad thing.

We cut to Winter listening to the Ace Ops complain about Penny. She tells them to act like the elite they are, likely because she hates how they refer to Penny as “junk.” Still being set up to betray Ironwood, I bet. During this scene we learn that they have “confirmed visual of her leaving Amity. She appeared to be malfunctioning.” So Penny is alive? Also, they have eyes on Amity Tower and were able to see Penny leaving, but didn’t see any of our trio coming to launch it in the first place? Did Ironwood want it to launch? Did they see Cinder? I just don’t know.

Before they can get there though a message from Jaune comes through. Serious kudos to Team JNY for asking that “anyone” respond/taking the personal risk of calling for help in the first place. They’re finally putting—as Harriet says—they’re own selfishness aside in favor of the greater good. Yang obviously hates that it’s “you guys” they ended up with, but she’s not outright attacking the Ace Ops or anything. I’m like,

Excellent job, Yang.

Jaune is a little harsh in his panic. He said in his message that a “large mass of grimm” is heading towards Mantle and then when Harriet leads with asking about Penny, wants to know what’s wrong with her. Why are you asking about Penny when lives are in danger and “it’s” (the grimm) are “right there”? Except he, uh… points at nothing. There’s the chasm with (I presume) the weird grimm goo down it? Not sure based on the shot, but the Ace Ops expected a “mass of grimm” and then land to see no grimm anywhere nearby. So yeah, they’re more focused on the missing Maiden than the seemingly imaginary enemy Jaune is freaking out about.

They only get on board when the river launches itself at Atlas.

So the goo is, like, sentient before it becomes individual grimm? Or Salem is controlling it from her whale? Either way it’s BAD.

I want to briefly gripe about how the hell everyone is watching this. What, is there a camera conveniently trained on this one random part of Atlas’ underside and everyone’s scrolls tuned into that the second the attack started? It seems far-fetched, to put it mildly. In RWBY’s favor though, I want to acknowledge that we finally have appropriate expressions for the situation! This is good!!

I’m going to level with you all. My notifications have known no peace since I made the mistake of criticizing the adored trio that is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. I thought supporting Ironwood would get me heat. Nope. Not supporting the main girls is what did it and honestly? I shouldn’t have been surprised. Last week I pointed out that having them smile and, in Ruby’s case, coo during a moment of horror is not good animation and implies some pretty uncomfortable things about their overall sympathy level. The image in question:

It doesn’t set a good tone, especially when we add in what we’ve gotten for Ruby’s group across the rest of this volume. The counters of, “They need and deserve a break. Why won’t you let them be happy?” fall flat when we ignore that this group has been animated as consistently goofing off post-premiere. Sneaking into the guarded military base of a former friend? Tube shenanigans! Need to find your way around? Funny Penny moment! Semblance reveal? Cutesy chibi explanation! Need to do more sneaking? Silly coffee plan! Nora gets electrocuted? Joke about how awesome that was! Even Wiess telling Whitley to go to his room reads as funny to the audience.

Ruby in particular has been a problem, given that she’s our main character and the others’ leader. We take our emotional cues primarily from her. Alongside being a part of all these fun and games, her animation during more serious moments has been less than stellar. This is Penny when Nora goes down.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just focused on the fight.

This is Penny when the fight is over.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just chatting about suspicious activity.

This is Penny in the airship, worrying about Nora and the situation they’re in. This is also Ruby in the airship, apparently not worried at all.

This is Ruby when she learns her uncle is in jail. Is there shock? Fear? Horror that he might be in serious trouble? No, she just maintains the same emotion she had before: fury at Harriet.

So when we reach them watching the recording and they look like this:

No, I’m not convinced that this trio is taking the situation seriously, or that they really care about the people involved. I know they’re supposed to care, they all obviously care from a meta perspective, but the “obviousness” of that only exists in our personal understanding of the characters if we don’t see it on screen. I completely believe that Penny is worried about Nora because she’s animated expressing that worry. I completely believe that JRY are in the middle of a warzone because they’re (mostly) animated as fearful and angry. The rest of Ruby’s team has a scared line from Blake and Weiss holding Nora’s hand, whereas the majority of the emotion across this adventure has been indifference or playfulness. That’s a problem given how horrible the events of this Volume have been, most of which the group is aware of.

All of which is an incredibly long-winded way of saying that this

finally feels appropriate. Well done, RWBY.

Alright, this recap is already over 7k long so I want to return to our plot with the summarized: IRONWOOD WAS RIGHT. He said they couldn’t withstand a head on attack by Salem and he was right. It literally took seconds for her grimm to burrow into Atlas, knock out a tower, and disable the shield. Everyone still claiming that leaving is useless because it’s oh so obvious Salem’s grimm could fly however high it wants (when did we learn that?) are ignoring that leaving was at least a plan with some kind of hope attached to it. And, given her focus on the Staff, may have saved Mantle by drawing Salem’s attention away from the city. The point is we don’t know. All we do know is that Ironwood tried to do something in the face of hopeless odds, Ruby’s team stopped him, and now look, everything is awful. No one could have possibly seen that coming.

Salem: “It’s time.”

I’m very pleased that Salem is finally using the tools at her disposal. Upon reflection, I still don’t buy why she had to wait. “Well, she was waiting for the grimm goo.” She couldn’t have used flying grimm to take out the tower? Take a burrowing grimm and give it wings? She couldn’t have used the goo that was apparently inside her whale the whole time?

It’s all very convenient. In the sense that we’re drawing out the volume by having the villain inexplicably hang back, despite not having a good reason to. In the sense that—unless Ruby’s message comes back to bite her—the villain’s passivity also conveniently let the heroes accomplish the one goal they were desperate to achieve. All of that’s still not good, but at least the Volume seems to be moving out of the “not good” category and into the “slightly better” territory.

Although, as I just acknowledged to a friend, RWBY seems to alternate for me. Every time I have an episode where I think, “Okay, there are still massive problems here, but I can see a glimmer of hope” the next episode is inevitably the pits.

Still, grabbing onto that hope with both hands: Atlas should be decimated, folks! Grimm are swarming, our idiot heroes herded everyone directly under the city, the world should be panicking, and the cold should still be killing people if the story remembers that it exists. At this point my only question is wtf our heroes are supposed to do next, but regardless of what the plot gives us, it’s going to be wild. You all know what’s coming. Next week is our final episode before a two month hiatus, which means we’re going to witness all kinds of awful and then end on a six week cliffhanger. It’s inevitable, so best to emotionally prep for that now lol.

I don’t believe we have any Bingo updates, with the exception of edging towards a few: “Winter betrays Ironwood,” “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians,” “Atlas somehow survives,” and “Ironwood dies” being the most notable. We’ll have to see what, if anything, gets checked off next Saturday.

As always, thank you so much for reading (I feel like I don’t say that enough :D) and I’ll see you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby recaps #rwby midnight #mymetas

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kiara-carrera · 3 years ago

Note

“actually i’m…i’m really not okay.” + Leah for the comfort starters?

convinced you can somehow read my mind across the internet because you're always picking the best prompts for them like this allowed me to write a hc that's been living in my head since may anyways. i also wanna fight myself bc this is like 3 fucking thousand words and its super fucking sad idk why i did this to myself.

content warning for parental abuse and a mention of alcoholism.

In the middle of the night, something brushed against her face.

She was asleep on her side, some of her hair falling into her eyes, but it was swept aside, the feeling tickling her skin and it caused her to stir briefly. But her eyes stayed shut and she merely burrowed deeper into her pillow.

Leah had never been much of a light sleeper, but the feeling of her bed dipping next to her seemed to rouse her enough.

It took her a moment to settle into waking, eyes fluttering and lips smacking together tiredly to combat the dryness of her mouth. A tiny yawn escaped her, her eyes doing their best to adjust to the darkness of her room, the only source of light being the sparse moonlight that trickled in through her window.

It was enough to make out the shape beside her.

Her heart nearly stopped at the sight of them sitting on her bed, arm pulling back towards itself. It felt like something out of a horror movie or perhaps the evening news with the headline of a teenager being stolen from their bedroom. Fear gripped at her with icy hands, eyes widening at the realization that someone was in her room with her.

Lips parted, she was a mere second away for screaming out for her father and brother before a shred of moonlight at just the right second highlighted the unruly blond hair of the intruder.

Pushing up on one shaky hand, she asked, “JJ?”

Leah’s sleep addled voice cut through the silence, a harsh and hurried whisper into the dark. If it truly was JJ sitting on her bed, the volume would need to be kept near silent — she wouldn’t put it past Jack Thompson to treat JJ like an actual intruder.

The voice that replied was unmistakably that of her boyfriend’s, a little tired and a little sheepish. “Hey baby.”

Relief flooded her body and she allowed herself to slump back down into her pillow, a quiet groan escaping her lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, JJ, I thought you were a serial killer. What the hell?”

She couldn’t really see the expression on his face, but she saw him look down at his hands. “Wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me at —” She paused, turning to squint at the alarm clock beside her bed, neon numbers vibrant in the dark. “Two am? How the hell did you even get in?”

“Window.” He jutted a thumb behind him in its direction as if to make his point. In an attempt at lighthearted conversation, he jokingly added, “You know, you should really lock that thing.”

Leah pulled a face, disbelief coating her features. Sleep was still mulling in her brain and she couldn’t for the life of her make sense of this situation. It wasn’t the first time JJ had ever snuck into her room. Even before they were dating, he’d mastered slipping in through her window often enough that he even knew which floorboards would creak loudly under his boots.

But the difference between then and now was that this was the first time he’d done it without warning. She couldn’t remember the last time he’d come unannounced like this. It had to have been months ago, when he’d shown up after —

Fuck.

Leah pushed herself back up on her elbow, a sense of unease washing over her as she squinted at her boyfriend in the dark. The last time he’d shown up unannounced in the middle of the night, it hadn’t been for a midnight make out session or because he’d randomly wanted to spend the night — he’d had a bruised cheek and a busted lip, compliments of his father.

He’d dripped blood on her floor by accident and she’d nearly woken up her brother while getting the first aid kit from the bathroom. She’d gotten a mini one from the dollar store the next day to keep in her dresser just in case.

Except, she didn’t want there to be a just in case. Didn’t want there to be a next time. She’d cleaned JJ up from multiple fights in her time as his best friend and now girlfriend, but nothing left her with a pit in her stomach like cleaning him up after his dad was through with him.

“You didn’t come here from the Chateau, did you?”

It was phrased as a question, but it was more of a statement. JJ shifted awkwardly in his spot beside her. Even if she could make out his expression in the dark, he wouldn’t look at her anyways.

“Lee ...” He trailed off, almost as if he wanted to ask her to drop it.

But he knew her and he knew she wouldn’t. “J, did you go back to your place tonight?”

A small noise of discontent escaped him, but he nodded his head.

“Got into it with my dad,” he finally admitted, letting out a chuckle. It was meant to play off the situation, but there wasn’t a single trace of humor in the bitter sound.

Despite how tired she felt, eyelids heavy enough to drag her back under, that single sentence seemed to wake her up just enough. She squinted at him in the dark, heart thumping a little quicker in her chest as she blindly reached for the lamp on her bedside table.

It switched on, bathing the room in a soft glow as Leah pushed herself up into a sitting position. She blinked a few times, letting the now lit room to come in to focus, a hand reaching up to try and rub the rest of the sleep from her eyes.

Her gaze eventually landed on her boyfriend, looking uncomfortable as ever under her gaze. His hat was in his lap, hands wrung into it, while his hair looked like he’d raked his fingers through it anxiously a number of times on the way over. And his eyes, normally cheery and mischievous, looked almost hollow, a glossy sheen to the redness that surrounded the blue of his irises.

He looked ... broken and Leah’s heart stuttered a bit at the dejected expression he wore.

She’d never considered herself violent or capable of truly hurting anyone, but it was moments like these where she swore she could put Luke Maybank six feet under if she put her mind to it.

Unless he drunk himself to death first.

JJ watched on quietly as she let her eyes trail across his face intently, no doubt scanning for new scrapes or bruises or split lips. A twinge of guilt flickered in his eyes, one that Leah ignored. She didn’t care if he felt like he was burdening her or that he felt bad knowing she was expecting him to be dripping blood on her floor like he had one too many times before.

She didn’t care about that, because all she wanted was to make sure he was okay.

Leah hated when he went home. She knew that JJ was too proud to spend every night at the Chateau and knew he thought he could handle himself on the off chance that he ran into his dad. Rarely, though, did that seem to be the case.

“It wasn’t like that,” JJ supplied, noticing the way her eyes strayed to his shirt, more than likely wondering if there were bruises littering the skin it covered. “He was too drunk to start anything physical. Probably would’ve tripped over himself before he got two feet.”

Leah nodded, though his admission didn’t do much to quell her nerves. She didn’t know much about Luke Maybank to start with, but something told her his words were probably as painful as his hits.

After a moment, once she decided that his face looked the way it had when she’d seen him yesterday, save for the frown and his bloodshot eyes, some of the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Not all of it, though, because her mind had already started jumping to the next possible idea of what exactly had happened in the Maybank home earlier that night.

“Do you ... do you wanna talk about it?” she asked gently, tucking her legs under her.

Getting JJ to open up was ... tricky. Leah had been around him long enough that she could clock his bad moods at the drop of a hat, could read most emotions swirling in his eyes like second nature.

Noticing something was wrong, that something was eating away at him, was easy. Getting him to verbalize it and let her in fully was the hard part. Even around the Pogues, around Leah, JJ held a certain level of walls up. Thoughts and secrets and the level of abuse at the hand of his father that he kept guarded for one reason or another. There were things that they knew, things that they found out on accident or because he’d hit his breaking point, but Leah wouldn’t be surprised if there was a whole slew of things she didn’t know.

Her heart clenched painfully at the thought, but it didn’t surprise her when JJ waved off her question.

“Nah, it's not a big deal,” JJ replied easily, brushing it off as he adjusted his position on her bed.

He forced another smile on his lips as he regarded her. It was one that almost looked genuine. Almost. It might have fooled someone who didn’t know him well into thinking that he was fine, someone who wouldn’t pick up on the way he was fidgeting with his rings or how he seemed incapable of looking her in the eye for more than a brief moment before glancing away. But Leah wasn’t just someone and she could pick up on his unease just as easily as she was taking her breaths.

Because Leah knew when JJ wasn’t okay. She always knew.

Treading lightly, like she was dealing with a deer who might spook, she said, “Well, it must have been if you came all this way here.”

Annoyance wrinkled his expression. Tossing his hat to the side, he asked, “Can’t a guy just stop by to see his girlfriend?”

“JJ, it’s two in the morning,” she told him seriously.

His frown deepened. She could see his jaw clench and he nodded his head a few times. “Yeah, okay, you know what, this was fucking stupid. I’ll just leave then if you’re gonna keep looking at me like that.”

She knew the that in question was the pity he was probably reading across her face. But the problem was that she didn’t pity him, she was worried for him, but JJ never seemed to know the difference between the two.

The sight of him getting up and turning to head back towards her window had Leah lurching forward, hand circling around his wrist. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, giving his arm a tug. “No, J, don’t leave, please, c’mon.”

At her pleading tone, he halted, a sigh escaping him. It took another moment before he was sitting back down, a frown still etched on his face.

Leah’s hand slipped from his wrist and she longed to twine their fingers together but she didn’t in favor of scooting a little closer to him on her bed. She tilted her head a bit, trying her best to get eye contact with him.

He finally sighed and looked up at her, another sigh slipping past his lips. “Lee ...”

“Look, I’m not trying to push it, okay?” She bit her lip, thinking over her next words carefully. She didn’t know how many times she could successfully talk him out of leaving tonight. “I just ... I get worried. If you really don’t wanna talk, we don’t have to. We can just go to sleep and leave it, but I need you to know that I will listen if you wanna talk. You came all this way here and it’s so late and I know —”

“I just wanted to see you,” he repeated, cutting her off. There was no edge to his voice. Instead it was softer, a tone that suggested there was more to it. Unconvincingly, he added, “I’m fine, Lee.”

A shaky breath left Leah’s lips, tears beginning to sting at the back of her eyes. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Her words sat in the air for a few moments. Or maybe it was minutes. JJ was watching her intensely and Leah could almost see the legions of thoughts bouncing around his head at her statement. His eyes were glassier than ever, tears brimming along the edges. He chewed on his lip anxiously and Leah could do nothing but wait for him to make the next move.

When he did, she was certain her heart broke.

“Actually I’m ...” JJ’s voice was thick with emotion and his breath hitched in his throat as his bravado began cracking under her thoughtful gaze. He couldn’t meet her eyes again when he choked out, “I’m really not okay.”

The first tear betrayed him, dripping down his cheek and disappearing somewhere on his shirt.

“Oh, JJ,” Leah whispered, her soft voice, laced with unmeasurable concern, nailing the coffin shut.

Within seconds, tears began streaming down his face as the dam finally broke.

Leah was quick to shuffle across her bed, the last bits of sleepiness washing off her like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. Her arms were curling around him tightly, pulling him into her as the first sob racked through his body. His face was pressed into her neck, the collar of her shirt dampening with his tears.

He was mumbling into her, words muffled by her skin and her shirt, fragmented by the sobs that snuck through. She could only make out pieces, the words hate it and hate him and sorry repeating more times than she could count.

“I’ve got you,” she mumbled into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you.”

His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her even closer, impossibly close, like he didn’t think she’d stay with him.

But there was nowhere else she’d ever dream of being, not when he was like this.

This wasn’t the first time Leah had seen JJ cry. While he always tried to hold up a devil may care attitude, the wild Pogue image, the view of a kid from the Cut with no worries besides keggers and weed, there were times where he’d hit his breaking point in the past. She’d seen it before, seen the facade shatter like glass against the floor. There was only so long he could go on being strong, feelings bottled up inside him like a ticking time bomb, before he’d burst.

Another sob wracked through him, a quiet and painful noise buried into her neck.

“I just want it to stop,” he told her between hurried gulps of air. “I’m so fucking sick of it.”

Leah’s eyes squeezed shut and she ran a comforting hand through his hair. She told him, “I know, J, I know,” because what else was there for her to say? What else was there for her to do in moments like these?

Anger burned in Leah’s chest, a sudden hot feeling, akin to a pot left to boil over on the stove. It was seeping into her veins as she listened to his cries,

Anger at the world, because it took people like JJ and put them through hell. He was sixteen. Sixteen fucking years old and this was the shit that he had to deal with. This was his reality. It was two in the goddamn morning and instead of being asleep in his own bed, safe and loved by his own fucking father, he was here in pieces because of him.

Anger at his father, for being such a useless sack of shit. Who did this to their child? Who could look at a kid like JJ and do nothing but tear them down until they started believing the lies being fed to them? Leah hated him, she’d decided that long ago. Hated him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life and the feeling of JJ shuddering under her hands only seemed to make it run deeper.

And then there was the anger at herself, because she knew there wasn’t enough that she could do. She could patch up his wounds and hold him tight, could let him cry in her arms until he had nothing left to give, and it would never be enough. She couldn’t fix the world for him and there weren’t enough words in the world to describe how important he was, how special, how loved. His father’s words would always exist somewhere in the back of his mind and she wasn’t sure she knew how to combat them with ones of her own.

It pained her to think he’d believe any of it. To think he was worthless or going nowhere or a waste of space. She wasn’t sure exactly what Luke had said to him tonight, could only guess, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt, with every fiber of her goddamn being that they were lies.

Leah knew JJ. She knew every reason that she loved him was because he was unapologetically him. He could be brash and impulsive and crude and he didn’t always say or do the right thing. But she also knew that when it came down to it, he was loyal and brave and selfless and better than anyone on this goddamn island. He deserved the goddamn world. He deserved a mansion on the Eight with a koi pond and a ridiculous marble statue or Yucatán and lobsters and surfing all day and whatever else he wanted and it was because he was better than the world gave him credit for.

Tears of her own were pooling in her eyes, steadily dripping down her face as she rested her chin against the top of his head. She knew in that moment that this, being here with him right now, letting him deal with this pain in whatever way he needed to, was all she could offer him. She knew it didn’t come close to what he needed, but she’d hold him as long as he wanted.

As he clutched at her like a lifeline, Leah held him a little bit tighter.

#asks #comfort prompts #mayson #will i ever let them have a fun happy time??#claryxjackson

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planetjisungie · 4 years ago

Text

lucky charms- h.rj

characters; ravenclaw! renjun x hufflepuff! reader ft. gryffindor! mark and gryffindor! jeno (sigh)

summary; with the exams coming up, you need a little help with your charms. well you dont, you just needed an excuse to talk to your long time crush, huang renjun

an; i literally changed this on the spot 🤡 plot holes here i come- (also id like to think jeno is more of a hufflepuff but idk man)

sigh okay this is a long boi

end of year exams were in just a few weeks

yay, your absolute favourite !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sarcasm

now, charms

in room 99, classroom 2E in the south tower

i did my research

you were pretty good at charms, not nearly as good as you were in the care of magical creatures and herbology though

still above averagely good

you know who else was good at charms?

huang renjun

the star ravenclaw prince boy, the pride of the house and a very beautiful boy

best boi renjun

if jeno was being quite honest he was SICK AND TIRED of hearing you two pine over eachother

jeno met you in first year, and you quickly became best friends and even ended up in the same house as eachother

despite having different friend groups (your friend group consisted of you and eunji), you stayed best friends until now aka 5th year

just go with it okay

so as he was saying before i digressed, jeno physically is pained as he watched the longing glances both you and renjun throw when the other isnt looking

but it isnt his business to meddle with your lack of relationship problems

best boi part 2

BUT! but! he will give you both a tiny! eensy! little! minuscule! nudge

that nudge being forming a plan with you

you were slightly reluctant when jenos very enthusiastic face greeted you at the table saying he had ‘a totally brilliant, spectacular, show stopping, wonderful, flawless plan’

this was jeno we were talking about

the same boy who planned the failed midnight snack run a few weeks before

and as soon as he mentioned renjun your eyes narrowed

"proceed."

the plan was for jeno to ask renjun to tutor his friend who was falling behind in charms

said friend was you

and you were ahead of the class

bUT!! you agreed because he wasnt in your class, so there was no way he could know that right?

wrong.

who was in your class?

mark lee. one of renjuns best friends.

also the boyfriend of eunji and the reason you wanted to gauge your eyeballs out everytime you turned around to talk to them

thats right eunji ditched you to sit next to her little markie. bitch.

nonetheless, you agreed because your dumb, spontaneous ass forgot that renjun even knew mark, because if someone said ‘whos mark?’ you would go ‘eunjis boyfriend’

so of course, when all the students were making their way to their class, jeno caught up with renjun seeing as they both had muggle studdies

"hey man, i have a favour to ask"

stage one of operation: stop the oblivious fuckers from pining over eachother (that name may need some revamping) was a-go

"depends what said favour is"

smart boi™️

"is it possible to tutor one of my friends in charms for the upcoming OWLs?"

oh? this piqued china pretty boys interest

"i mean, sure, i could do with some revision too. tell them to meet me at the library after school"

and so jeno walked away with a smug smirk, victorious

and when jeno told you he had agreed later in potions, you were yet you werent surprised

so of you trotted after last period, kinda nervous because youre about to be in the literal breathing proximity of renjun

like obviously youve talked to him before but this time it was just you and him

alone

no get those thoughts out of your head

n e ways u perv

renjun sat at the back table, textbooks and notebooks with his neat writing in both chinese and korean all over the pages

smart boi part 2

so seeing him not looking at you

attention whore

wow why am i so mean today

you sat down and cleared your throat, placing your blank notebooks on the table so the boy wouldnt get suspicious

you had to pray to whatever gods were listening for your cheeks not to flare up the colour of the strawberries you had for breakfast

healthy girl™️

and the gods apparently answered your prayers

because as soon as renjun looked up and into your eyes you swore you were too distracted for your blood cells to even think about moving towards your face

and renjun nearly had a heart attack (by aoa)

poor boy

jeno had NOT told him that he would be tutoring you

he was going to be choked later

"sorry im late"

renjun was nearly offended that you would even apologise to him for being late by

2 minutes and 48 seconds

"no no its okay i havent been here long"

that was a lie he had study period last and has been sat in the same goddamn chair for an hour already but your presence made his ass cheeks ache less

so he started teaching you, but ???

you seemed to fully grasp the concepts

confused boi

excuse me ma’am/sir/señor/señorita whatever you prefer to go by-

you need to brush up on your acting skills dude

appalling smh your drama teacher back from your muggle school would be completely distraught

so for the next hour renjun ‘tutored’ you

things you already knew but this was a dream-

and actually he was a funny guy

he was also muggle born, so you could both relate over things you experienced as a kid

this lead to a raging debate over dora the explorer

that bitch was shaded in said debate, fully annihilated

hola soy dora your asshole

but,, it was fun. because jeno was pureblood and grew up knowing about all his magicky stuff so he was kinda boring sometimes

no tea no shade

but you ended the session with smiles on both your faces, cheeks literally aching with how hard youd been laughing and smiling

so lads

the next day at breakfast renjun was all happy, plonking himself next to mark at the gryffindor table because

man does not give a SHIT about the looks he was getting. he is huang renjun.

"why are you so smiley this morning? and why didn’t you come to my common room last night"

the gryffindor common room was the dreamie hang out

no one dared tell THE mark lee to go somewhere else with his friends

"sorry, last night i was tutoring y/n in charms" smiley boy still

mark seagull eyebrows: activated

excuse him?? charms?? you?? the one who got an outstanding in your report card??

something smells fishy here

"renjun... y/n got an outstanding on her charms"

eunji who had magically appeared next to mark basically said what he was just thinking

confused boi part ??

"wait what?"

but later on he didnt question you about it

he silently observed you

he told himself that anyway

quite honestly if you were spending time with him he was not about to complain

he was staring at you, simply put

my leng bby (thats you, youre my leng bby)

so for the next 2 weeks every day after school you would meet up to ‘catch up’ on your charms

that being said it literally always, every time, ended up with you two talking about something unrelated

like the 5th day you had a conversation about which series of power rangers was better

"SPD, obviously"

AM I THAT OLD?? on god i hate it here

"no, y/n, we all know that dino force is better"

i agree with y/n on this one pal

on the 7th day you talked about muggle sports that you both enjoyed

"i played a lot of cricket"

"cricket? okay tory"

"i am NOT a tory"

on the last day when you should have been, you know, LEARNING

you were having a lovely old chinwag about the x factor

"simon cowell is a king"

"i agree"

legend behaviour if you ask me

wait does chinwag exist in other countries??? translation: chat

so of course the exams came up

but you were dreading them for a different reason

this meant the end of tutoring with renjun

this was super bittersweet, you wanted to spend more time with eachother

you literally could it wasn’t that deep both of you are so dumb smh aint nothing stopping you

jeno agrees with me too, mans pulling out his hair still as you had somehow not gotten together yet

it was like watching snails race, incredibly frustrating but you know that there is the finish line somwhere over the horizon

so you took your exams and both of you passed with flying colours, obviously

smart kids

and you ran right to renjun to celebrate

seeing as he had

not really helped you but you thought that he thought he helped you

oh no honey he knew that you didnt need help

but he didnt know whether to confront you about it?

rip your guilty conscience

so after a long discussion with mark, our china boy decided to ask why the heck you wanted his help when you were absolutely fully capable

unlike mark

and when you saw him approach you first in the halls your heart went

NYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

that was the sound of a fast motorbike

"hi y/n"

‘damn renjun, couldnt have thought of anything better than that?’

"uhh hi renjun"

awkward silence by stray kids

"i just wanted to know why you asked for my help"

okay where is the nearest shovel and what is the most efficient way to dig a large hole-

as if renjun sensed your panic radiating off you in waves

which he did

"not that it was an issue! i enjoyed spending time with you, it was just, you didnt really need help"

he was a pure boy

so you puffed your cheeks and decided to just come clean

somewhere, jeno felt his senses tingling

"genuinely i just wanted to spend some time with you because i really like you"

renjun froze and wanted to smack his head into a wall

bruh

you noticed his expression and panicked yet again

stop panicking man its okay i gotchu

"it was jenos idea"

blame jeno is always a fool-proof plan b

unless you get pregnant, that would not be a good idea

so i guess its not fool proof

BUT I DIGRESS

renjun face palms and groans

"youre kidding me! all this time we wasted doing boringass charms work when we couldve gone on dates"

confusion™️

but?? you felt hopeful??

"i dont think im on the same wavelength"

"i like you too dumbass"

oH so YOURE the dumbass??

yes, yes you are renjun is best boi, accept the L which is really a W bc renjun likes you back

jeno who had found his way to you, listening from around the corner sighed in happiness

"fucking finally!!"

#nct #nct dream #jeno #lee jeno #mark #mark lee #nct hogwarts au #renjun #huang renjun #hufflepuff reader #OWLs #just two dudes deadass pining after eachother

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lemonlushff-iy · 4 years ago

Photo

Inspired by @thunderpot‘s BEAUTIFUL art...I’m working on a birthday present for her. I have an outline. I’m 50 pages in. I’m powering through this like no other and it’s been a BLAST.

I can’t keep calling it Atlantis though, or else the name is going to stick...So...I need help.

Kagome and Sango are scientists and treasure hunters, looking for a new clean energy source. Kagome’s hair-brained idea? Let’s find Atlantis! Little does she know the world she’s about to fall into... (horrible summary but I’ll deal with that later)

Unedited excerpt below!!

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Kagome paused, adjusting the strap on her purse as she looked up from the trashcan. It was a lovely day - the salty ocean air filled her nostrils and the warm sun caressed her tanned skin of her exposed back. A gentle breeze ruffled her midnight tresses, and she nervously tucked a strand behind her ear. His accent was thick and indiscernible. Not quite Greecian...but...something more. Mysterious.

“Excuse you?” she replied, confused by the man before her. Long, thick, inky hair…deep, cerulean eyes with just a fleck of gold in the left iris. His body was lean - his muscles ropey, as if he were an experienced swimmer.

Made sense given that this was an island over a hundred miles away from Santorini. Nothing but vivid blue seas for miles.

She had been getting lunch with her fellow colleague, researcher, and best friend, Sango, when this man just…Came up to her out of nowhere!

“That dive you’re planning to do with your friend,” he continued, his eyes serious. “You shouldn’t do it.”

“Were you listening in on us?” she replied, incredulously as she took a step back, away from him.

“Kinda hard to not,” he shrugged dismissively. “You’re rather loud.”

“Excuse you?” she repeated, trying to not let him grate her nerves. She didn’t know who the hell he thought he was, but he had no right telling her what she could or couldn’t do. And, on top of that…how fucking rude is it to…to…eavesdrop on a random stranger’s conversation and then snidely comment on how loud they are!

“You won’t find it,” he continued, unperturbed. “You think you’re the first ones to come here looking for Atlantis? Hardly,” he scoffed. “You should just go home.”

“Yeah?” she bit back, now more than a little annoyed with this rude stranger. “And what makes you so sure we won’t?”

He just smirked and turned away from her.

“Just am. Go home while you still can, Kagome.”

“That sounds like a threat,” she yelled after him as he started walking away.

He paused, looking over his shoulder back at her.

“Not a threat. A warning. Take your friend and go home.”

***

“Take your friend and go home,” Kagome mumbled under her breath, slipping a tank top over her head as she thought back to earlier that day.

“Still upset, huh?” Sango commented, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“You weren’t there Sagno,” Kagome bit back as her friend squeezed a dab of toothpaste out onto the dry bristles of her frayed toothbrush. “He was so...cocky...and... condescending! And! And! He was listening long enough to know not only my name, but also the fact that we’re looking for Atlantis!”

Sango just rolled her eyes, allowing her friend to rant about this mystery man as she brushed her upper teeth, watching Kagome’s arms wave around animatedly as she retold the story. Again. For the tenth time.

Kagome watched her friend pull her hair around to the side of her neck, leaning over the sink to spit the white foam of her toothpaste into it. “You’re obsessing,” Sango finally replied, pointing her toothbrush at her friend. “Men have, and always will, be condescending to us. We’re treasure hunters, Kagome. Not teachers. This is a male dominated field. They are always going to look down on us. Why do you suddenly care what this one random guy thinks?”

“I don’t care what he thinks!” She shot back, pulling her hair into a bun at the top of her head. I’m just...pissed at him! He doesn’t know us and he’s just...just assuming that we can’t do it? Who the hell does he think he is!”

“No one,” Sango sighed. “He’s a no one you are spending way too much time and energy on. Forget him,” she encouraged, beginning to brush her teeth until a thought struck her. “Do you like him?” she gasped, her words coming out garbled as she spoke around the toothbrush hanging limply from her mouth.

“O-of course not!” Kagome sputtered, brushing off her friend. “He was rude, and condescending and--”

“--And attractive and you haven’t stopped talking about him like...once since you got back. I think you have a thing for assholes,” Sango smirked and Kagome reached out, grabbing a damp towel off the rack and threw it at the other woman. Sango just laughed and caught it, chasing after Kagome as she stomped out of the cramped bathroom into their small room, turning on the fan. Even at night, the humid air clung to them like a sticky sap.

“I do not have a thing for assholes!”

“Yeah? Then what word would you use to describe Hojo?”

Kagome was silent for a beat before snapping back, “cheater. I would describe him as a cheater.”

“So...Asshole?”

Kagome just glared back at her friend, her ire raising with each passing second.

“Listen, Kags...Don’t let this guy get in your head. You’re a smart, strong, determined woman. We’ve ignored nay sayers all our lives. Why stop now?”

“I know,” she sighed, thinking back to the serious look in the mystery man’s hauntingly blue eyes...All blue, except for that one, beautiful fleck of gold. She wondered why he had it...Genetics?

Sango was right.

She was spending far too much time focusing on this guy when she should be getting sleep.

***

“Fuck!” Kagome swore, sitting back down on the bench in the small boat they had rented, next to Sango, peeling out of her wetsuit. The sun had almost set, the last warm rays of light nearly hidden beyond the horizon. “I thought we would find more out there than that…”

Sango handed her friend a towel, raking her fingers through her hair to work out the knots in her long black tresses.

“Bad dive again ladies?” their skipper, Miroku, asked in his thick Grecian accent. They would have preferred to have done this without him, but unfortunately...he came with the boat.

“Yeah. I’m disappointed too,” Sango bemoaned, nodding as Kagome stood, running the terrycloth towel over her wet body. Her skin puckered, turning into gooseflesh as a breeze swept over the ocean water, caressing her body.

“I’m not giving up hope yet. Everything we have researched so far has told us that the gate should be here.”

“I know,” Sango sighed. “Hey...did...did that place kinda give you chills?”

“Chills?” Kagome pressed, raising her leg onto the bench to dry it.

“Yeah...I don’t know Kags...I just...I felt watched down there. I know it’s crazy, but I swear I felt like something was watching our every move. Maybe we should...just...move on to the next site. The place is so creepy anyways…”

Kagome just rolled her eyes. That place? Creepy? And what would be watching them? Fish? She loved her friend dearly, but Sango was overreacting. It was a little unsettling looking around ruins, sure…but she didn’t think for one second that it was creepy. Besides...They had planned to spend two more days exploring the area before moving onto the next spot.

“Nonsense,” she soothed, tossing the towel back to her friend. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen a hundred times before. Our permit is good for a few more days...I think we should stick with the plan. Head back first thing in the morning. Maybe breathing in all that air from the tanks got to you? I feel it in my bones, Sango. This is the place. I just know it!”

Sango shot her an uncertain look, but just shook her head as Miroku moved inside the cabin, reappearing a second later with a bottle of champagne and three flutes.

“Enough of this! You are starting your adventure!” he grinned. “Why don’t we pop some champagne in celebration? What do you say ladies? It’s a perfect night to drink a little bubbly at sunset! We can all get to know each other better, since we will be spending quite a bit of time together,” he finished cheekily.

Sango just narrowed her eyes at the man, and told him they were not interested in drinking at the moment. Instead, she sent him to turn on the ignition and begin the trip home. She hoped they could make it back before the sky completely blackened.

“Hey,” Kagome soothed when they were alone again. “I promise...two more days. I’ll be with you the whole time. Everything will be fine. It always is, right?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, still unable to shake the eerie feeling that they were being watched.

Little did she know how right she was...nor did she notice the black haired head poking out of the waves, watching the unwelcome explorers pull away from the sight. Keen, blue eyes narrowed as they disappeared from sight, a single golden fleck glimmering in the last rays of light.

That’s it for now...Hopefully it’s enough to spark some ideas?!

It was supposed to be a one shot. Then I wanted to keep it under 60 pages. Then 100. Now I just want it to stay under 130 pages. I’m already 50 pages ( 17478 words) in...I should stop pretending I can keep things short.

ART:

https://thunderpot.tumblr.com/post/617420192100827136

https://thunderpot.tumblr.com/post/617850310848872448/idk-kags-i-felt-watched-down-there-maybe-we

PLZ HALP GUYS I SUCK SO HARD AT TITLESSSSSSSS AND YALL CAME UP WITH A WORTHY SACRIFICE LAST TIME WHICH IS DOPE AF!

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inuyasha #inukag #atlantis

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fuck-customers · 5 years ago

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Happy New Year hope you like Heatstroke

Yeah so. Event Services binch back with a long and harrowing tale. Those two shift days in a row on 30th and 31st were nooooot good for me. This is pretty much a 'Fuck how shitty my boss gets when she's stressed and also just fuck 14 hour shifts in general'.

The 9hrs on Monday turned into 9.5 hours. In 30c+ heat (and just a reminder, Sydney is currently constantly covered in smoke haze, we are always breathing smoke), but a breeze came through early afternoon to save us some. There was 4 of us putting up park signange in prep for the NYE event. I ended up schleping the ladder around a lot, I was the only one on that team that actually does weights so i carried a lot. Not a problem really except the signs and ladder are awkward to carry. Only real issue that day was my dinner was in the fridge all day which... turned out hadn't been working for 2 days (why they hadn't fucking put a sign on it about that I DON'T KNOW). Lots of people's shit got thrown out. My food was only just edible after nuking in the microwave cause i keep it in a thermo lunch bag.

The worst was NYE. 13 hour shift (it actually became a 14 hour shift). Started at 12pm, set to finish at 1am (I finished at 2). The sun was not forgiving, we had way more signage to put up because we had to wait for barriers to be set up before we could add signage to them (like line barriers for rides, entry barriers for VIP areas, that kinda thing). Our instruction sheets were BAD. They had OLD pictures that were tiny so seeing what signs were supposed to go where was hard. There was only three of us, the weather was in the high 30's and I'm sure it hit 40 at one point.

I ate a small brunch at 10 that morning. I did not get a break by 5pm like we were supposed to (park was to open at 6:30). I was yelled at by my boss for all the signage being in the wrong places and wasting cable ties (none of that signage I put up, or signage i put up with someone else's instruction they had gotten from my boss btw, so why i got yelled at idk). I was told to go straight up to my box office shift, I did not realise the box office was located outside with no shade during NYE (there was a marquee but the sun was low and behind us so *shrug* no sun cover).

I had to share a locker because NYE be like that, but the person I was sharing with was a ditz, and she thought I had the key, and she either lost it or didn't look for it properly in her pockets. Either way, I had to frantically run around in 38c trying to find her to get in the locker to change into the long black uniform pants I have to wear for box shift.

By the time i found her, got my pants on, walked all the way out the front and up the stairs and up the hill and down the path to box i was nearly dead. The other girls there told me i could sit cause it wouldn't get busy for a while. So i sat on a bench and then became very aware of how hot i was and how much i was not cooling down and i felt nauseous. And I had had like 2 and a half litres of water at this point, I have a 1ltr bottle so it makes tracking that easy. It just wasn't doing enough.

One of the Guest relations people hanging out up there went 'yeah okay you need first aid' so she got me some hydrolyte and escorted me down once I'd shaken off enough dizziness to walk again. Was in First Aid for half an hour, they got me to drink more hydrolyte and put an ice pack on my neck and gave me a barley sugar lozenge to get my blood sugar up. Then i was finally given my half hour break on their insistence. Got to eat at last. Had to check in with FA before going back to my box shift, and thankfully by then, about 6:30, a wind change came through making the temp drop about 10 degrees.

But I basically spent the time between then and 11:30 recovering ( I was on guest list duty and also did ticket collect, it was pretty quiet tho). At 9:40 my boss called one of the shift leads up at Box to see if they could send me home, and I had to say no. I was scared they'd FORCE me to leave after the heatstroke thing, but i NEED the money, this is my ONLY job, and I'm not even getting the pay for it til two weeks into the new year (it fell into the next pay period and i had no shifts inside the previous pay period).

They apparently were sending several peripheral staff home, I felt like I needed to find extra jobs to do just so they'd let me stay, but also, if i didn't stay past midnight i wouldn't get the public holiday bonus. I NEED THAT TOO. ESPECIALLY after all the work I'd done the day before, it felt like a fucking slap in the face even though i knew it was them trying to make sure I didn't end up getting sick and suing or some shit (As if i have the money to sue). Also I'd miss the Fireworks, which while not my main concern, still a bummer, because my dudes. Sydney Fireworks on NYE with a view from where I work. People pay more money than I currently have just to experience it. Honestly it's part of the payoff for the hell shift.

THANKFULLY my boss went 'ah right okay yeah just stay up there on guest list til the original end of shift'. I also made sure to stick my nose in on the sales end so i could use it as basic box office pre-training, since my boss has already said she wants to train me on box office. Somewhere around 10 I had my second break and wolfed down my food (they had a replacement staff fridge working that day thankfully) which i was glad i brought cause I never got given a staff wristband, brief sheet or token for a provided meal. Because I started before that sign in procedure was even set up for the rest of the staff. And then i went about taking down signage about 11:30, and then I did the running around taking signage down after 12, and like... the area we're in involves some steep hill walks to get to these outside sign placements (I'd put half of them up so it also made sense for me to go take them down).

And that's where MORE fuckery came in, because the shitty instructions didn't tell me where ALL the signs were, so i had to go HUNTING for the ones i HADN'T put up, and i swear either another department took them down and didn't relay that, or they'd been removed by council or something thinking they belonged to council. Either way i was up and down those fucking hills with horribly chaffed thighs, sore legs, sore arms, cut up hands from removing signs with cable ties too tight, and I couldn't find half the fucking signs. but at least I took one of the newbies with me to help look so I had a witness to not being able to find things.

So yeah. I had to go find my supervisor (no idea where boss was, prefer supervisor anyway, she's nicer under stress and poor thing was pulling a 19 hour shift) and let her know I was an hour over my finish time and which signs we hadn't been able to retrieve. She was fine with that, the rest of the people were scheduled for packdown to like 3:30 so she sent me to sign out.

And then i had to just sit for about 45 minutes back of house with some of the others who'd clocked off at 1 and who were waiting for the free leftovers from the VIP areas that came out at 3. I had a tiny tasty cake thing but that was it, then I left at 3 and got home about 4:45. Didn't get to sleep til about 5:30.

And I've spent yesterday and today trying to recover but now Iv'e got weird low-buzz tinnitus in my left ear that started yesterday and hasn't fucked off, several bruises, many muscle aches, and I'm kinda dreading facing my boss again even though she probably doesn't really care much about the signage thing, she just gets really shitty and yelly under stress. But of course I've been gaslit and mistreated in so many of my other jobs that the voice in the back of my head is constantly going 'watch out bitch you might get randomly terminated at any moment!!!' even though i know i probably won't.

I can just never be sure anymore. Can't trust anyone when it comes to work. Can never relax my guard, going to be stressing about it for a long time. I am never agreeing to a shift that long again though. And definitely not doing anymore outdoor setup shifts in Summer.

Honestly hoping this ear buzz shit goes away at some point. In the end for my 23.5 hours of work in 2 days I'll probably maybe get $500 after tax. Maybe. Which will only just be floating my account by the time i get it. Everyone else was talking about having that sweet NYE bonus cash and I'm like ;u; yeah. Sure. haha. Bonus cash. TnT I need a proper fucking career job already i am so tired.

#submissions #cashier problems #fuck retail #server problems #fuck managers #submission

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i-will-be-forever-yours · 5 years ago

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Trust Issues

A/N This is my first writing...that has actually been posted so it might be pretty rough. anyway... feedback is welcome! thanks for reading

Warning: Angst, some language...umm idk what else

Summary: Shawn and Y/n have been married for a year and a half and he seems to be drifting. Will trust put this marriage at risk?

Word Count: 1.8k

posted 11-18-19

Don’t know who made this gif but if u did hmu so I can give you credit

Y/n breathed a sigh of relief when she walked into their two-story condo. The paparazzi decided that they would not leave her alone since the news of her marriage to Shawn Mendes, even eighteen months after the fact. For them it was like being a kid in a candy shop.

They had dated for just over two years when she found herself in front of a kneeling Shawn, velvet box in one hand. She was happy, to say the least, and let the tears flow as she nodded, being at a loss for words. However, prior to dating they had been friends since they were both young, and they couldn’t be happier. Their wedding was a romantic day one with only close friends and family. It was a special day, filled with laughter and tears of joy shared between the couple.

However, at just a year and six months of marriage, it was already hard. Of course, the first year was pure bliss, and they were very much newlyweds. However recently Shawn had been more distant and Y/n didn’t like it. For the better part of the last five years, they had been inseparable, but he seems to be drifting. Longer nights at the studio, early morning at the gym. Even when he was home, his mind wasn’t, and a part of Y/n felt like they were falling. She wasn’t sure where they were falling. Whether it be out of love, or falling deeper into confusion, she had no idea, but she knew that something needed to change.

Shawn was getting ready to go on tour again, but that was nothing new. They had been through a couple of his tours while they were friends and even while dating. However, something seemed off with this upcoming one.

Y/n tried to brush off the uneasy feeling that settled in her stomach when she thought of her husband, but it just wouldn’t go away. To take her mind off things she decided to scroll through her twitter feed. The first thing to pop up was a picture of her husband and Camila, with the caption saying “Shawn’s new lover?”. She knew not to believe rumors and tabloids and had even grown accustomed to these stories. However, with Shawn’s recent behavior, she wasn’t so sure. Her mind told her to just stop but nevertheless, she clicked on the link that was provided.

She didn’t expect to find a picture of her husband’s face nuzzling into the neck of Camila, while she laughed and smiled. There were a handful of pictures of the two holding hands and laughing. It reminded her of when they first started dating. Young and in love, only having eyes for each other.

Pain and numbness spread throughout her chest at the thought that her husband no longer loved her. These thoughts were interrupted however by the sudden urge to throw up.

Jumping off the bed, she made a quick dash to the connected bathroom. She emptied the contents of her stomach and sat there on the bathroom floor. Her breathing was ragged and she kept dry heaving into the toilet, while trying to suppress the urge to cry.

She looked like a mess, with her hair in disarray and makeup running down her face from her shed tears. Her brain couldn’t form coherent thoughts, and she felt the sudden desire to sleep for hours. However, she picked herself off the floor to examine herself in the mirror. Wiping off the makeup and putting her hair in a messy bun she decided to get back on her phone. They had plans to go to dinner tonight, so y/n decided to call Shawn.

However, before the second ring, the call was denied. Deciding then to text him, she texted, “Hey honey, are we still on for dinner?” As she waited for his response she decided to check her calendar for her upcoming appointments and plans. While looking through it she realized something was missing. She had not had her period in two months, almost three.

She sat there on her bed in a nervous panic. What if she were pregnant? She hadn’t had sex with Shawn recently due to his busy schedule at that time, but based on the last time they had it would make sense. They were always so careful. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was just her body being irregular like it sometimes tended to be. The logical part of her brain denied these excuses though, because that’s what they were, excuses.

She immediately put on some shoes and a hoodie and drove to the nearest drugstore to pick up some tests. She was lucky to make the trip there and back without anyone snapping any pictures. The downside to having a famous husband was the unwanted pictures, but she loved him, so she made it work.

Once back safely inside the master bathroom, she undid all three tests and took them. She waited the time and when her phone alarm went off she froze. What if she were pregnant and Shawn didn’t love her anymore?

No time to think about that. She had to be positive, maybe this was the jumpstart her marriage needed. Taking a deep breath she grabbed the tests. They all read POSITIVE. She sat there for nearly five minutes before the waterworks started. Tears were streaming down her face, but there were so many emotions going on. She was ecstatic, scared, and angry. Ecstatic because she already felt so much love for this baby, but also scared to be a mom. However, she was angry at Shawn, angry that he didn’t reply and angry that he wasn’t here to share her joy.

She moved back to their room and hid the tests in the closet in some old shoes. As she made it back into her room she saw a message from Shawn saying, “sorry love, can I cancel tonight? I’m just really busy here at the studio.”

She let out a sigh because she was hoping to talk to Shawn over dinner. It seems she’ll just be eating alone again as she has for the past couple weeks.

Y/n is lying in bed when she hears the slam of the door. Looking at the clock she read that it’s midnight. She waits until she hears the heavy footsteps of her husband before she decides to get up. However just as she’s about to she hears his hushed voice saying “No i don’t know how i will tell her. Well, she will just have to deal with it. I know, it’s just that she is so fucking clingy sometimes, always calling or asking to go to dinner or do this and that.” ... “yeah i will, okay goodnight.”

She decides to pretend to be asleep when he walks in. Usually Shawn takes care not to make noise, but tonight he is taking no care to be quiet. She can hear him move about the room until he finally goes into the connected bathroom to shower. Not until the water turns on does she let out her emotions. Tears yet again stream down her face as she thinks about what her husband was saying about her. In her misery, she doesn’t even hear the water turn off nor does she hear as Shawn comes back into the room until she hears his soft voice.

“Y/n, what’s wrong love? Why are you crying?” he asks while reaching out for her.

She turns around to see the concerned eyes of her husband. She almost gives in until she remembers the pictures and his earlier conversation. Instead she looks away and answers “I am fine Shawn, just go to bed.”

“No, tell me what’s the matter! Why are you crying y/n?”

She looks up at him and bluntly asks, “Do you still love me?”

He is a little taken back by her question but is quick to reassure her. “Of course I do, why are you asking?”

She has to scoff at this. “What do you expect me to believe when I see pictures of you and Camila laughing and looking in love? And that conversation earlier? hmm...I think your exact words were she’s so fucking clingy!” she spit out at him.

His confusion quickly slips into anger. “What do you mean “looking in love”? I kissed her cheek, y/n! That’s is! You should know how close we are by now and yes I said you were clingy because sometimes I just need some alone time...ever think about that huh! I thought relationships were supposed to be built on trust. I guess you don’t trust me. Is that what I’m hearing?” He yells.

Y/n is now backed up to the headboard is fear and shock. Not once in their years together has he blown up on her like this. Her hands immediately reach for her stomach, even though she isn’t showing. It is almost a comfort, even just finding out. A way to protect the unborn being that rest within her, relying on her to keep them safe.

“I don’t know what to believe! You don’t talk to me anymore! I love you, Shawn, please just talk to me.” She sobs in a defeated voice.

However, his anger just seems to build. “I need to get away from you sometimes! You never give me a break, and you always want to talk or cuddle or whatever shit it is.”

She is crying now and just wants this nightmare to be over. However, it has reached its climax. “Get the fuck out of my face y/n. I cannot handle this anymore. Just go stay somewhere else.”

In a state of shock, she sits there. Until she makes eye contact with Shawn and that’s when she knows he means it. She rushes out the door with her car keys in hand. Once she is driving away she finally breaks once again. With a hand on her still flat stomach, she drives. She has nowhere to go because all her family and friends are in the states. They had moved to Canada to be close to his side of the family and his hometown.

However, being distracted while driving is not good. Especially when she’s been on the road for over an hour and emotionally exhausted. She looks down to see a message from Shawn saying “sorry love, please come back home...we can talk when you get back” As she is reading this she doesn’t see the car that ran a red light and barrels into her car, causing her car to roll multiple times before coming to a halt when it came into contact it a pole..

All she can hear is the sound of her phone ringing with the picture of Shawn filling her screen. She soon hears sirens before she slips into the comfort of darkness that is pulling her deeper into the abyss.

#shawn mendes #shawn x reader #shawn mendes x y/n #shawn mendes imagine #reader insert

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footbaliimagines · 6 years ago

Text

New Years Kiss (a Jesse Lingard imagine)

Hello!!!!!! It is me, returned from the dead (I can’t find the gif but insert the bitch thought u saw the last of me gif from American horror story gif here)

Idk what this is really these bits and bobs are NOT chronological they are just like fragments if that makes sense?? So even though the 3 words bit is when they were together its like a ***flashback*** but I wasnt sure how to make that v clear also the chapters are like numbers counting down from ten like at midnight ygm??? Okay I am rambling so will shut up hope u guys like it and hope you have a wonderful nye <3 I hope and am sure 2019 will be wonderful for all of you <3

TEN minutes after you meet him, you realise that you’re kind of fucked.

(And by kind of, you mean completely, overwhelmingly, catastrophically fucked.)

It happens quickly, in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

So quickly, as a matter of fact, that when he locks eyes with you for the first time, and when he grazes your arm when brushing past you to grab his drink, it’s like a switch has been flicked inside of you that you were never sure even really existed.

You put it down to the bubbles from your prosecco that you’d downed just before chatting to him, and that the tipsiness and the buzz of alcohol is the only reason you could be feeling the way you do right now.

Now he’s a face that you can put a name to, instead of just viewing him as Marcus’ other footballer friend, that familiar grinning face you’d spotted at gatherings who always offered you a shy, awkward smile whenever you shared eye contact but someone who you’d never actually found the balls to speak to.

(Sure, as a regular human being with functioning eyes you knew that he was attractive, but he was way out of your league.)

(The constantly grinning, elusive, life of the party Jesse Lingard, who Marcus had raved about to you pretty much since the day they’d met, with his 5 million Instagram followers, ridiculous dance moves that no self-respecting 26 year old man should let the world see, and that smile- God, that stupid, infectious shit eating grin, when his eyes crinkled and made everyone else look mediocre in comparison to him.)

(He wouldn’t look in your direction even if the world was about to end.)

It’s New Years’ Eve, and his Christmas jumper smells like Baileys and cinnamon, lasting remnants of the festive period. “Nice to meet you.” You practically have to shout over the music. “I know Marcus.”

“You what Marcus?”

“I know Marcus.”

“You know who?”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, dismissing his question. “Doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“I said.” You shout. “It doesn’t matter.”

He nods and smiles again, leaning in, “I don’t want to be weird or anything, considering we just met,” his gaze is hazy and clouded with the effects of the beer he’s clutching in his right hand, “but you’re really fucking pretty.”

You can feel your face flush, a blush superior to the one your red wine had already given you, and the next thing you know it’s nearly midnight, and you’re drunk and giggling and he’s flirting and tracing between the gap between your jeans and jumper with his fingers, and you’re both leaning in and your friends are counting down from ten, and he kisses you, amidst cheers and shouts and fireworks.

And you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could really happen?

“Only NINE stops.”

You trace your finger over the plastic Metrolink sign, running it up and down the line connecting the two tram stations, marking your place and his. “Nine stops to get from me to you.”

He snakes his hands around your waist, pressing his chin into your shoulder and kissing the exposed skin of your neck. “Stop.” You laugh, voice breathy. “We’re in public.”

“We’re in Manchester city centre on a Thursday night.” He pulls away, leading you towards the platform and laughing loudly, his voice booming throughout the cold night. “There’s no one fuckin’ here!”

He’s had a few pints, and he’s tipsy, handsy, flirty, silly Jesse, one of your favourite versions of him, kissing you breathlessly and grinning, hands running up and down your tight jeans and hooking into your belt loops and murmuring in your ear about how excited he is to pull them off of you later.

“Nine stops, you know,” He hums as the tram pulls away and you lean into him, watching the city pass you by, “is pretty far.”

“You’re such a city boy now.” You roll your eyes. “It’s like, 20 minutes. If we went back to my hometown, you’d be lucky to see a bus more than once every half an hour.”

“You wouldn’t have to do the whole 9 stops if you moved in with me.”

You crinkle up your nose and quirk an eyebrow at him. “What are you suggesting?”

“What do you think I’m suggesting?”

Laughing, you prop your feet up on the empty seat opposite and lean into his side, as he flops an arm around your shoulder. There’s no one else with you two and your voices and shared laughter echo throughout the empty carriage. “I’m serious!” He holds his hands up and looks at you with wide eyes. “Do it. Move in with me. You can cook me breakfast every morning, and make me my tea for when I get back, make me a brew whenever I want one… you’ll make the perfect little housewife.”

“Now that you’ve said that, you can fuck off.”

And you both brush it off and don’t speak of the topic again, but when he leaves for training the next morning, there’s a spare key for his flat lying on a post-it, with a hastily scribbled note.

You don’t have to properly move in – no pressure or anything like that. But I had a spare key lying around and wanted you to have it. Jess x

(When the breakup comes, you don’t work up the courage to give it him back, and it’s still lying in your bedside table draw, post-it long gone, gathering dust and eventually added to the pile of his things you swear you’ll get around to giving him back one day.)

(There’s a strange feeling in your stomach every time you pass by his stop.)

It’s EIGHT in the morning.

You’re sat in the coffee shop equidistant to your flat, Marcus’s house and United’s training ground, where every Sunday without fail, the three of you would meet up for breakfast.

(Well, where you used to meet up every Sunday.)

(Minus that one time you were too hungover to leave the house without projectile vomiting on your own feet.)

For the first time since the breakup, Jesse had appeared, the sleepiness still drooping over his eyes and his hair mussed by his pillowcase. Your mind flashes to the image of him sleeping face down in his pillow, a position that made you nearly piss yourself laughing every time you saw him, but you suppress the memory quickly.

“Everyone can see it except the two of you, you know.”

Marcus tips his chin upwards and nods matter-of-factly. You roll your eyes and huff. “You’re a prick. And not just for saying that. But for inviting him out for our thing, our tradition, again, when you know it’s just going to be fucking awkward. He didn’t have to be here.”

“I’m only saying.” He raises his eyebrows and holds up two hands, as if to say, not my fault, I’m not interfering in the slightest, I’m just telling you that I know you’re still in love with your ex, and I know he still feels the same, and that even though there’s a very high chance things could still go catastrophically, terrifically, hugely wrong, I’m going to tell you and mess with your head anyway?

You reply snappily, huffing and folding your arms across your chest, “You’re messing with me, and it’s pissing me off. Fuck off. Tell him to fuck off too while you’re at it.”

He barks out a laugh and you roll your eyes. “I’m trying to reunite my two best friends, that’s all. Get the gang back together and all that!” He whines and shuffles closer to you, flinging an arm around your shoulders loosely. “Let me live. You both know you’re both being stubborn. Just talk to each other. It’ll all work out.”

“I don’t even like him anyway. Not like that. Not anymore.”

It’s a lie, a stupid, threadbare, slap you in the face lie. Marcus knows it too, and snorts. “Yeah, sure. I believe you. It’s not like you’ve been pining over each other for the past 3 months and you’re giving the girl he’s talking to at the moment daggers.”

You pull away your gaze sharply. Jesse’s in the queue- well, he was in the queue, now he’s loitering by the serviettes - and he’s been pulled to the side by a beautiful girl. They’ve been chatting amiably for the better part of the last ten minutes and you can feel your blood temperature rising steadily. “I’m staring,” You begin, and your head starts whizzing at a million miles an hour to come up with a decent excuse. “Because Jesse has our coffees and I don’t want them to get cold just because he’s in the middle of a stupid conversation.”

“’Stupid conversation’,” Marcus air quotes your words and smirks. “Jealousy isn’t a very attractive trait, you know.”

“I’m not jealous.” You scoff. “I’m just thirsty, that’s all.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“Fuck you.”

A few minutes, and plenty of glares and continuous teaching jabs from Marcus later, Jesse approaches and smiles apologetically. “Sorry about that.” he chuckles, and hands you your mug.

Your fingers bump and it’s so meaningless and tiny but you kick yourself for still flinching when your skin made contact. “Careful. It’s still hot.”

(See, he cares about you. Maybe it’s not all just in your head!)

It’s an instinct to smile back at him, a repressed reflex to not pat the empty space next to you and rest your hand on his thigh, but you gulp as he sits opposite instead, far away from the table, from you. “Make conversation.” Marcus hisses.

You can feel your face blossoming cherry red, feel the discomfort in the air rise, feel your palms grow sweaty, and you shoot him a dirty look, mouthing, “Stop making it obvious.”

“You’re the one making it obvious.” He hisses back.

“Hm?” Jesse looks up from his phone to across the table.

He’s wearing that stupidly adorable, confused look on his face again, and you want to kiss him, you want to throw your boiling hot coffee in his face, you want to slap him, do something, do anything that would be less unbearably awkward than the three of you making small talk about the new Kenyan variety of coffee beans Marcus was trying out.

“Hm what?” You gargle.

“I was just asking what you guys were mumbling about.” He leans back, hands gripping his mug.

“Nothing.” You interject, before Marcus can start up again. “Marcus’s just being a dick, that’s all.”

You kick yourself for acting like such a lovesick, pathetic idiot, because you’ve never been like this before, you’ve constantly sworn to yourself that you’d never going be like this, but now he’s in the picture and it’s like everything that you ever held dearly to you has gone straight out of the window. Marcus pipes up, “So, who was that girl?”

(Now he decides to fucking speak.)

“Which girl?”

This time, you’re not quick enough to interrupt Marcus from piping up. “The girl you were flirting with before, Jesse, who you might go out with, who seems really nice and wasn’t a baby by actually talking to you about her feelings instead of hiding behind her emotions because she’s so scared of rejection and open communication, that she’d be willing to sacrifice the possibility of something really great?”

(You’re this close to chucking your cappuccino over his head.)

Jesse side eyes Marcus, opening his mouth to reply but then shaking his head and exhaling instead. “She’s right, you are being fucking weird today.” He shakes his head, tipping his chin upwards slightly and shrugging. “Besides, she’s not really my type anyway.”

(She was beautiful.)

(She’d be anyone’s type.)

He’s looking at you dead in the eye this time, ignoring Marcus’s eyes darting back and forth between the two of you, and you venture, “What is your type, then?”

He pulls a face, like come on, are you really asking that, you know what my fucking type is and you know it’s not that girl I was talking to strategically 2 foot in front of you so you’d see and get jealous, and when he doesn’t answer, you take it as a silent victory for #TeamYouWereRight, not #TeamJesse.

“That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

You let Marcus fill the silence of the rest of your breakfast, and when you leave you’re too much of a coward to even look Jesse in the eye.

It only takes him SEVEN days to move on

When the cover of Ok! on your best friend’s coffee table catches your eyes, you can almost feel your wine and the tequila shots you had knocked back rising back up your throat. Your vision is hazy and the bitterness, the anger, the hurt surges through your veins as you pick it up and throw it to the floor, out of sight and out of mind. You were right, the featurette screamed out at you, he wasn’t, isn’t worth it, isn’t worth you crying over.

It only took him a week to find someone else to fuck and you’d be damned if you weren’t going to go out tonight with the same intentions.

Deep down you know you’re being childish and if you were sober you’d probably never have sunk to such a level, but the tequila is buzzing in your blood and you can’t stop thinking about that fucking photograph.

(A photograph of Jesse revelling in a post-Boxing Day victory glow, crowded with Paul and Marcus in some swanky inner city bar, with his hand on the thigh of a beautiful woman whose Instagram account you made a mental note of to stalk when you were in a soberer state.)

There’s a tranquil voice somewhere in the back of your head telling you to step back and be rational. You’d been friends with Marcus and the boys for far too long to trust the split-second capture of a loitering paparazzi over his word.

It was probably just a one-night stand, that rational voice piped up again. Plus, he’s single now. Give him a break. The boy is gonna need to get laid eventually.

(But he’d told you he didn’t want to be with anyone else, that he’d rather have quiet nights in with his teammates to celebrate, probably just PS4 and takeaway, that he wouldn’t enjoy going out if it wasn’t with you.)

(That rational voice in your head could go fuck itself.)

You shrug off the worry at the back of your mind and post the picture to your Instagram story regardless.

Your phone buzzes 2 minutes later.

Who is he?

You hate yourself for revelling in his jealousy, but the sense of satisfaction you gain overrides any rationale that sober you would have considered.

Who the fuck is that guy?

Can you reply?

I can see you’ve read these messages, you know.

Are you fucking him? Is he your new boyfriend?

Fuck you.

Happy SIX months, babe. Love yaaaaaaaa!!!

is what the balloon reads, as the delivery man comes by Jesse’s house with a bunch of flowers almost the size of him and a handful of personalised helium balloons.

“Delivery for Mr J Lingard?” The postman reads off his phone, before handing Jesse the assortment of romantic gifts and offering up a screen for Jesse to sign.

He smiles tiredly and nods.

(He swore he had remembered to cancel this order after you’d broken up.)

“Ta mate,” He replies, taking the flowers inside and dumping the balloons behind him in his hallway.

“Anniversary, eh?” The delivery man smiles. “She’ll love the presents.”

(He’s going to throw up.)

Jesse attempts to smile and brush it off with a laugh, but it’s not convincing. “Fingers crossed, yeah.”

“Best of luck.” He walks back down his drive. “Have a nice day.”

“And you.”

He’s alone again in his hallway, the gifts surrounding him, a flurry of red and pink bows and yellow roses, your favourite, your name written onto the balloons.

He imagines you in the kitchen with him, you, being your typical over-emotional, dramatic self probably welling up at the card he’d written, tactfully arranging the balloons for an Instagram photo, talking about inhaling the helium and taking a video for his Snapchat speaking in funny voices, getting stressed out about doing your eyeshadow for your dinner later that evening.

He can imagine looking at you from across his kitchen table like you just hung the moon in the sky, the thought of being with you, eating breakfast with you, talking to you all making his stomach churn. Because the breakup hadn’t been formal nor had it been official, and it was only after you blocked most (well, all) of his social media accounts, and your face no longer appeared, grinning and slightly flushed, in the stands of Old Trafford, that he had realised the severity of what had happened between the two of you.

And Jesse kicks himself over it every day, he could have done more, could have turned up to your house or your office and demanded an answer or at least a conversation, but his stubbornness and obstinacy had prevented him from doing so, and your unwillingness to communicate had landed you both at a stalemate.

(If he could go back in time, he would.)

He leaves the anniversary gifts in his spare room upstairs and doesn’t even open the door.

05:02 – Are you up?

05:14 – Lol of course you won’t be

05:14 – Soz for texting. I can’t sleep and I think I’m just getting a bit caught up in own head

05:16 – I just

05:16 – I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind

05:16 – I just don’t know why this is still so fucking difficult. It’s been like 3 months and I still can’t sleep because I’m thinking about you and how everything went wrong

05:19 – I’m sorry if I pressured you when I told you I loved you and I’m sorry for not fighting more

05:20 – Didn’t meant to rush you. Just wanted to be honest.

05:20 – And now I’ve fucked everything up. And I’ve fucked it with Marcus too, jt’s always awkward and I know he’s taken your side and everything is just shite

05:26 – Fucking hell

05:26 – I can’t do being just friends and I can’t do platonic. Maybe we just should just cut if off completely

05:27 – Please come and see me so we can talk it over

05:27 – I just can’t do this, this in between

05:28 – I love you and I know you still love me

05:28 – Is that not enough???

It’s FOUR in the morning and Jesse’s regretting even leaving the house in the first place.

His head is pounding with the deep bass coming from the speakers behind him, as he gingerly sips at his lime soda, thoughts of his alarm ringing at 7:30am tomorrow morning looming in the back of his mind, thoughts of what his Mum would say if she knew he wasn’t getting a healthy 8 hours of sleep before a game, thoughts of you in that little black dress, swaying to the beat, standing far too close to that short-back-and-sides-probably-a-fuckboy idiot whispering something that Jesse doesn’t want to imagine down your ear.

(Thoughts of what he’d like to do to you in a dress like that.)

You eventually shrug the other guy off when he gets a little too eager, a little too handsy, and pull your hair loose from its ponytail, eyes scanning around the club and pausing when the land on Jesse.

He’s stood in the corner, not speaking to anybody and hardly moving, and that’s when you know he must be in a bad mood, because the DJ’s just started playing Sicko Mode and he’s not even flinched. Then one of his mates appears by his side, hollering down his eardrum, and Jesse doesn’t even respond with a smile or a laugh, he just shrugs him off and walks towards the doors.

You’re not sure why, but you follow him as he heads towards the smoking area. You lose him eventually in a sea of drunk people, and exhale, the wind suddenly sobering you up.

Fucking typical, you think, lighting a fag and leaning back against the brick wall, eyes closed.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

You open one eye and there he is, stood there in front of you, looking at you with a mixture of fondness, annoyance and disapproval. Looking at him dead in the eyes, you lift it to your lips and inhale. “I must have a tendency for going back to things that I know are bad for me.”

He looks at you, and you can tell he wants to bite, to start another fight, but then he bites his tongue and exhales. “How have you been?”

“I’m alright.”

“Good.”

“And you?”

“Good.”

“Jess?”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

(The next thing you know, you’re in a taxi togetther and he’s telling the driver his address and your hands are all over him and his are all over you.)

(And you fall into bed with him again, like always, like you know deep down happens every time, as if its a habit, and when you wake up the next morning in his shirt you tell yourself that this time really will be the last time.)

You hadn’t anticipated saying those THREE words to Jesse so soon.

God, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of things lasting between the two of you for longer than a few weeks, but now here you were nearly 6 months later, lying on his sofa with his head in your lap and your fingers running through his hair. “Hey,” Jesse speaks and sits up, switching the volume of the telly down to zero.

“Hm?”

He looks away, before turning almost as red as the United shorts he was still yet to change out of, then gulping and shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He cuddles back into you and though your heart melts, you wiggle him off and jab him with your elbow.

“Talk to me.” You whine. “You’re no fun when you’re being weird like this. What’s up?”

Jesse heaves a sigh, and for the first time during your conversation, looks you in the eye before burning bright red again and glancing away. It’s like he can’t bear the sight of you, and his determined avoidance of both a proper conversation and sharing eye contact with you makes you feel slightly nauseous.

A few moments of silence pass before he looks at you again. “I, well- I feel weird right now.” He stumbles. “Because, um, I-“

“Jesse, what is it?”

Your pulse begins to race as your mind inevitably wanders, and the pessimist in you instantly leaps to the worst possible thing. Was he breaking up with you? Things had been going so well, and surely Marcus would have called to give you a heads up if he knew something weird was going on with Jesse.

(Then again, you had cancelled on date night for the past 3 weeks to binge the Great British Bake Off.)

(Still, would that really have warranted a breakup?)

(And plus, Jesse was the Bake Off’s second biggest fan, after yourself, naturally.)

It could be something smaller, something to do with his family, or his career. But he never felt uncomfortable discussing football with you, despite your feelings towards his club, and his relatives treated you like one of their own.

(Your mind does eventually wander to the possibility of him cheating, or him finding someone else, but due to your own stubbornness and for the sake of your sanity, you’re quick to expel any ideas like that straight out of your head.)

“I love you.”

His voice is soft and cracks at the end, and it’s so, so far from what you had been expecting, and so unlike the usual confident, grinning Jesse that you were used to that a lump forms in your throat. “Oh, Jess-“

“I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to scare you off.” He mumbles. “But I’m finding it way too hard to not have those stupid fucking three words replaying in my mind every time I look at you. Because that’s what’s happening, I swear. I’m trying to play it cool and casual but all I can think about every time you smile, or speak, or laugh is the fact that I’m in love with you.”

A smile pulls on your lips and you immediately scramble forward to wrap your arms around him. He laughs and you feel his chest rumble underneath you. “You don’t have to be scared.” You comfort. “Trust me, I was shitting myself way imagining the worst just now.”

Jesse laughs. “Cos like, it terrifies me, it fucking scares the living daylights out of me, because I’ve never felt like this about, well- anyone before. And I was petrified that you didn’t feel the same way.”

You grin, before leaning in and pressing your lips to his with force. It’s a hasty, reassuring kiss, and your teeth clash and you murmur in between kisses, “I love you.”

(Months had passed since that night now and those three words hadn’t lost any meaning.)

(And you just wish you could say them to him again.)

“I know we said it the last TWO times, but we really need to stop doing this.”

His voice is soft, breaking the silence you were lying in.

(You’re grateful that he was the one to speak first, but you’re not so grateful for him bringing up that wretched conversation yet again.)

He looks across at you, the dim light from your lamp illuminating the side of your face, your knotted hair and smudged lipstick, and then at your bedside clock, reading 01:23. Jesse sighs and you can feel your heart sinking into your stomach, as he reaches for his boxers and pulls them on. Your bedroom is a mess, cushions and throws tossed to the floor, and he speaks up again, “I mean it, this time.”

“Okay.”

He continues, though he really doesn’t need to. You’ve got the message loud and clear. “I think it’s just good for our, er, healing. Isn’t like, not sleeping with your ex like the number 1 thing not to do after a breakup?”

“Probably, yeah.”

You hug your duvet up around your body protectively, before reaching for your bra and t-shirt that had been tossed to floor just two hours earlier, when the expected texts had come, the are-you-awake, the got-plans-tonight?, the I’m-horny-and-I-miss-you-let’s-not-waste-any-more-time texts.

(Leading to the exact opposite of what was good for you after the breakup.)

(For fucks sake, you tell yourself.)

(Dua Lipa did not write New Rules for you to be this pathetic, this needy, this easy.)

“Fine, then.” You say, blasé, casual, giving off an air of nonchalance and indifference that couldn’t be further from the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. “You don’t have to spend the night. Can you see yourself out or do you want me to get up?”

The way he looks back at you after you speak is enough to break your heart all over again. It’s a pleading look, and he’s willing you with his eyes to try and communicate for once, for the first time, but you refuse to meet his eyeline.

“I can see myself out.”

“Right.”

He dresses in silence, grabs his stuff and stalks out your flat, slamming your door on his way out. You scramble out of bed to watch him walk down your street, the way you used to when you started dating, when he used to blow you kisses as he ambled off your drive, or when you used to watch him run to a taxi on mornings when he was late for training.

This time, for the first time, he doesn’t look back at your window.

It’s been ONE year to the day since you met him, and you hate yourself for noticing the parallels as you walk into the living room at Marcus’s NYE party and he’s the first face you can recognise.

It’s like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy and it makes you want to die.

(Fortunately, he doesn’t quite spot you yet, and you’re free to make a beeline to the kitchen, in peace and quiet with an unopened bottle of Chardonnay as your company.)

(It lasts about 15 minutes.)

“Hey.”

You turn around and you see him, smiling at you in that same, stupid, garish, adorable Christmas jumper, holding out a Quality Street chocolate. It’s a peace offering, an olive branch, and you take it with a nod. “You alright?”

Jesse nods and takes a seat on the sofa behind you. “So, what are your New Year's resolutions, hey?”

You settle on the sofa next to him, knocking your knee against his accidentally, cursing and looking at him from over the rim of your glass of wine.

Jesse chuckles then shrugs sarcastically. “Can’t improve perfection.”

Your instinct is to let out a cackle, and you do, you burst out laughing so dramatically your drink nearly projects out of your nostrils, because he’s not even wrong and there’s not much about him that could really do with changing.

(Scrap that, he should learn to cook.)

(And definitely how to use a tumble dryer.)

(And call time of death on those dances he insisted on doing every time he scored a goal.)

“You’re the fucking worst.”

“What are your resolutions then, hey?” He knocks his knees with yours.

“Eat more fruit.” You fib.

Stop being so stubborn and accept that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Stop bottling up your emotions. Don’t be afraid to let people know how you feel. Stop being such a fucking coward all the time.

(Resolutions that Jesse of all people didn’t need to know about.)

“Boring.” He hums.

“Drink more water.” You add, nodding. “Start going to yoga again.”

“That’s so generic.”

“Fuck off. It’s called self improvement.”

“It sounds like every basic 23 year old girl I’ve ever met.”

You peek at your phone when he looks away: 23:58.

Fuck. How the fuck had it got so late already?

Your friends begin to gather in hordes in the kitchen, the TV broadcasting the fireworks in London has been switched on and drinks are poured and held aloft. Jesse jumps to his feet and offers you his hand as you do the same; his hand feels warm and familiar and when he lets go it suddenly feels like there’s acres of space between you again.

“I think I’m getting déjà vu.”

You roll your eyes, resisting the urge to smile. “Déjà vu to when?”

“That night. The first time we met.”

Jesse tips his chin backwards, and someone behind him trips, bumps him forward, and he stumbles into you, by reflex finding your waist and your free hand pressing up against his chest.

He’s inches in front of you, and you can feel your pulse in your eyeballs and his breath across your face.

You splutter out, “I’m really, really fucking sorry.”

Jesse laughs. “What the fuck are you on about now, mad woman?”

“I’m sorry. About it all. About everything.”

He shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay, stop apologising, we haven’t been this close without wanting to kill each other since the break up and I don’t think we should even tempt the possibility of us arguing again.

And he’s leaning in, and you can smell his cologne and it’s comforting and reassuring and confusing, and makes your head spin but grounds your feet, and you’re closing your eyes as your friends begin to shout.

Happy new year!

And he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him and you can feel his hand gripping your waist, holding and squeezing you and you can feel your stomach fizzing. When he pulls away he’s looking at you softly, gaze mellowed by tequila and the closeness between you two. “Happy new years, Jess.” is all you can muster, as he leans in and smiles again.

“Happy new year.”

#My writing #jesse lingard #jesse lingard fanfiction #jesse lingard one shot #jesse lingard imagine #england nt #england nt fanfiction #england nt imagine #manchester united imagine #cant believe i just typed that i feel DIRTY #footballer fanfiction #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #footballer one shot

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kitwilsonsass · 7 years ago

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anyway at some point i should probably ramble about my trip to boston?? so i’m gonna go ahead and do that??

like right off the bat let me just say the worst [art was actually GETTING to mass. my train was supposed to leave at 9:55am, and around 7:50 i got a text saying it was delayed until 1:03pm. we arrived around noon, and gradually my anxiety about going on the trip turned into anxiety of NOT getting on the trip as the board kept delaying... and delaying... and delaying...

....and then it started pouring out. crazy wind. murmurs the train lost signal and all contact with the station. after i finally got on (at 3:00pm), my aunt texted me that all that? yeah. that was a tornado warning. wat.

i got a pair of seats to myself for most of trip. fought with my wifi. listened to the crazy lady rant about dope ruining america a few rows back. mostly enjoyed the view and basked in the fact that i was not, shockingly, puking my stomach lining out. until we got to utica, and a shit ton of people got on.

my seat buddy then became an almost cute 18 year old dude with dreads and a lower half trash polka sleeve who was more interested in his earbuds than anything so i was fine with this. until we were about to MA and a few exchanged word and lazy lounging around turned into him doing THING guys think is cute where they lowkey rub your skin with the side of their finger against my thigh. so i ended up sitting up and the next stop he moved his shit to another seat. YEAH BYE.

along the way we kept having to stop bc signal problems and track construction and letting other trains pass. needless to say the train that was supposed to get in at like 8pm got in at at like 2:30am.

it was miserable, and raining. rachel got us an uber and i sat in the back seat next to some chick wh was super pretty and dressed up and here i was, a goblin, smelling like train restoom, in an ill fitting deadpool hoodie and yoga pants.

when we got to her place she made me some ramen (WITH THE RANDOM EGG AND EVERYTHING) that was good but spicy af and my stomach noped out and tbh over a week later my stomach is just now letting me eat properly again. tho i’m blaming this more on the issues with my abdomen acting up prior to leaving than the actual trip (tho, my skin having pores the size of actual craters i am blaming on the trip). i think the one thing we ate that DIDN’T act up in my body was the awful chicken wings we got from Wings Over that were about half fat and ridiculously undercooked. it figures.

ANYWAY. her futon is huge. it’s sad that i have more leg room on a futon than an actual mattress, but whatever. and there was construction going on across the street. fun fact: i came home to construction going on on MY street. so this was inescapable from the jump.

day 1 i got cute as possible and we hopped a bus and a train. my stomach was less forgiving of the motion here, but i lived. i saw Ron, the T-Rex. and we went to the isabella gardner museum where she lied and said i was a student. i was then asked a bunch of questions about being a student, none of which i was prepared for, and i’m pretty sure the only reason they let me in was because my zip code was accurate. that place is massive and pretty gorgeous from head to toe and i can’t fathom ever being that fucking rich.

then we went to get some food at a nifty little bar and restaurant . the name is escaping me rn but i stole a coaster. again, the food did not agree with me, and i could do a review on boston restrooms at this point. but it was great.

NINJA SEX PARTY! the house of blues wasn’t as bad as reviews made it sound, and aside from the mess that was the merch table they we kind of cheated like assholes due to some pretty honest confusion, was a good time. the line was MASSIVE. we got there an hour early and it was already around the corner and hard to miss. by the time we got towards the front of the building, it was around the block. we met a couple younger dudes from maine and a significantly more awkward gentleman more our age to keep us entertained. there were some street musicians. some asshole staff. you know.

all i really have to say about the concert itself was it was probably the best live music show of any kind i’ve ever been to and definitely the most enjoyable environment (huge tall dude who kept, somehow, ending up directly in front of me aside). everyone sounded amazing live, even if we were RIGHT under the speaker stage left and now permanently have bass vibrations embedded in our bones.

day two we hit up the museum of fine arts, which is massive and we didn’t see all of (and i paid full price for, thank you very much) and then grabbed a pizza and those awful wings and intended to chill out with some boy meets world. but the disks wouldn’t play. so we settled on mst3k. and let me tell you, i have not nearly cried from laughter in something as much as ‘cry wilderness’ nearly made me fucking cry.

day three we headed to south station to meet probes and hung out. there were a bunch of food trucks outside that were kinda neat. we didn’t think that girl would ever fucking find us, but she did. everything was OKAY. NO NEED TO PANIC. NO FIVE HOUR DELAYS. jess gives massive hugs, for the record.

we hit up a spot for lunch where they served be like, the biggest plate of pasta and bread i have ever witnessed in my life. i felt wasteful only eating barely half of it. then we found our way to the trains and the aquarium just in time for some sweet penguin education and eventually a lecture on their huge ass fucking tank that takes up the entire center of the room with a 90 year old sea turtle in it and some sharks and string rays. it was pretty cool, yo. i got a stuffed squid in the gift shop, even tho we did not see any giant squids (0/10 do not recommend) and outside jess gave me a present even though i fucking told everyone no presents (RAChEL ALSO GAVE ME NAIL POLISH AND A WRISTBAND WTF). it was a new day candy bar from fye. and yes, pop rocks n chocolate is surprisingly pleasant.

our PLAN was to go see hitmans bodyguard. but everyone showing it before like 7 was only showing 3d, and we wanted to get her on a bus home by 9. haha what fucking suckers @ us, because the bus didn’t leave until like 10. so we got shitty milkshakes, hit up the comic shop, and wandered around harvard for a bit until it got dark. and then were stuck at south station, wondering if she was going to be stuck in MA forever. reflecting on two quiet nerds and one extrovert being a not great possible combination of three people. but i still had a good time.

day 4 we did, in fact, see hitmans bodyguard and while it was mostly forgettable summer action lulz, i do ship the hell out of samuel l jackson and salma hayek now. so that’s cool. it was a fun time. hit up the park after, and a b&n to get schooled on peak writing stephen king. then we went to starbucks and i HAD STARBUCKS FOR THE FIRST TIME?? it was the double choc ship frap thing. it’s good. i’m mad about it.

we headed back, did laundry, ordered food. i ought her dream daddy, which was a waste of money, but i do take pride in just knowing she’s stuck having technically played a portion of dream daddy now. it’s her own fault for asking about it, it really is. mostly we watched more mst3k, some grumps shit, some random shit, some postmodern jukebox, had a drink. just chilled. and the ‘oh... fuck... haha... i have to go home tomorrow’ feeling hit when i turned off the lights.

i was too bummed the next day for much of anything tbh. i get depressed after anything fun. i get depressed after wwe shows, lmao, so for the trip to already be over when it suddenly seemed like i just got there sucked. plus it only just then really hit me i was in a different part of the country, if that makes sense even if it was only one state over. it was a weird realization as someone who never travels to have.

the train home i wasn’t so lucky to be alone most of it. i ended up in an aisle seat with a college girl. we minded our own business. stuck directly under the AC that was way too cold. a woman and a fucking baby sitting the next row over the second any space cleared out. had a layover in albany where an old guy made me a shot of iced chocolate espresso which he had never been asked to make before, and truthfully, i’d never had before, but it was alright. i actually enjoyed the layover as some weird, space between spaces, time to reflect on my own in an unfamiliar place kind of thing.

we got in around midnight, my aunt picked me up. got home around one.

that was that.

i had a really good time. i’m sure it didn’t seem that way. i’m like that. but i did and i appreciated the opportunity and definitely appreciated rachel for letting me freeload on her futon and showing me around and making me ramen i felt guilty for not finishing.

the city was nice. i’m sure i was only seeing the nicer parts, mind you, but compared to rochester or buffalo it just felt wider, cleaner. idk. i didn’t HATE it, and as someone who hates being in cities for more than a couple hours, it wasn’t bad.

it was a great time away from the world and despite the stress of coming home to everything, and a room without molding on the door (which was, for the record, still locked), i did feel a lot better afterwards. i still do.

#sam does boston mass #no one cares but for my own records u kno

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whifferdills · 7 years ago

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“World Enough and time” quicktakes:

fuck dudes what if the Xmas special is a “Caves of Androzani” thing where the Dr is basically dying the whole time. that'd explain the dramatic 'noooooo', bc this Dr Who i feel isn't a 10 Dr sort of, fuck you i need THIS ME to live, but in the context of 'i can't do the regeneration tango rn i have work to do' it makes sense

god i love generational ships. this ep doesn't quite nail it but i love that SF trope

MISSY. who is Doctor Who, with her plucky assistants/expendables. i am in love. "Think of the age gap" fuckin

"Nardole, do something non-irritating," says Dr Who, eating snacks. all my Twelvedole headcanons are basically canon now

"Time Lords are friends, everything else is cradle-snatching." you could do a meta on the Time Lord take on intimacy using that line alone.

Friends above all else. And the Dr and Missy are very, very old friends

"You're probably handsome, aren't you. Well congratulations on your relative symmetry." I love Missy ok

"And if I'm in the shower, just bring me some beans on toast. That's....that's roughly human flirting, right?" MISSY.

her accent ramping up on "this ridiculous exercise" right i just really love Missy

Dr Who's real name is Dr Who. the meta nods, i'm livin. "I'm cutting to the chase baby, I'm streamlining, I'm saving us ac-tu-al minutes." *dab* M I S S Y

"Are you eating?" yes, yes they are. luv this hungry boy

Nardole was Blue, once. what the fuck is Nardole

"Is this the emotion you call...spanking" holy shit Missy please i cant

i love how the Dr's speech is just cut off, it reminds me of - i think it's an Indiana Jones? where the one dude is like *dramatic sword flourishing* and the other dude just straight-up shoots him

like i know it'll end up ok but BILL NO. this moment doesn't quite feel earned - like maybe if more of the writers had really used her? but it kind of just feels shitty and cheap. horrifying, but it woulda landed better if she'd been more present beforehand. see also: how "Heaven Sent" woulda worked better if Clara hadn't been fridged or off away wherever i really wish we'd had more 12&Bill moments. i love what we get here, just that shoulda happened all season

nice kitchen. looks like an Aalto-Shaam and a salamander, plus fryer and misc. decent set-up for a college cafeteria.

"What's so special about her?" "I don't know." "Yes you do." "Are you having an emotion?" See THIS is what i want this Team TARDIS to be and i'm so mad we're only getting it now

Twelvedole is canon tho look @ these 2 obnoxious boys

and fuck that scene w/ 12 and Bill just chatting about crushes i wish we'd had more of that

i feel like 12 has eaten more on camera than any other dr who, i am here for this hungry boy who drops chips on their lap

"she was my man-crush - I think she was a man back then" all the gender-misc sexuality-misc stuff yes YEs like sure it's clumsy but it's CANON

"but you still call yourselves Time...Lords." "Yeah shut up." seriously why did we not get more of 12 and Bill hanging out

the PACT to see ALL OF THE STARS anyway Best Enemies is real

i love Bill admitting that she's scared, and doing the thing anyway. Bill in a nutshell right there

oh GOD the body-horror of the Cybermen and the VOICES uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhghghgwaghfgejf nope

"Wait for me" oh way to use hope to fuck someone up again. why, why dude

on first watch i did not at all suspect that this dude is the Master in disguise, i’m a dum-dum

so this hurts more on re-watch

and after input from smarter people - the disguise the Master uses is sort of...like it edges into a hinky area. dunno if it's anti-semetic as such (im not an expert, just it feels fucky on second viewing) but it does flirt with those tropes a lot and w h y would you go there

ffffffuck the converted people just screaming out best they can that they're in pain, and then being silenced. this is for me probs the most directly horrifying thing DW has done since, idk, "Midnight"? been a while, anyway. fuck, dudes

so i know it's the Master now but i do really love the relationship Bill has with Master-In-Disguise. it's a trick, a trap, but it also feels almost...genuine. they have a dynamic, Bill believes in it and i'd be almost be willing to believe the Master does too, despite themselves

Nurse Ratched continues to terrify audiences. the self-assured evil-nurse trope, like. is it cheap? yes. is it fucking me up? also yes. (my favorite aunt is a nurse, i’ve had a lot of - like not good experiences, but experiences where the nurses saved the day best they could; i love nurses but ALSO this trope ok ok ok aw geez)

the body-horror in this episode continues to be OFF THE CHARTS like this is as if someone asked me 'what deeply upsets you' and then they made an episode about it holy fuck

why's Dr Who fucking around for so long if they already know the bottom is much faster and Bill's down there for years like fuck off, be succinct, cough it up. 12 is every waiter i've ever dealt with as expo like - just FUCKING SAY WHAT YOU NEED don't dick around

i do really love Bill here. that mix of needing to leave and wanting to stay, or vice versa

V E N U S I A N A K I D O. they've got hidden talents and hidden arms

the graphics in this episode are nice that black hole is nice somebody put some work in there

speaking of the assets - Murray Gold nearly on a Phillip Glass tip here. that sort of dissonant orchestral thing. you could rescore this with the soundtrack to Koyaanisqatsi, easily

god that Cyberman voice is...so upsetting. again, always. fuck that shit. this does have a big Spare Parts vibe, with the dying world trying to save itself and the semi-volunteers. it's not quite as emotionally crushing as Spare Parts but it does angle towards that whole...yknow

"aw, sorry mate, guess what I'm about to do" like even knowing what he is, what this situation is, this is such a pure Bill moment and i love it

DONT U DARE DO ANYTHING TO BILL I SWER

but fuck dudes this is ultra horrifying this is so bad and i like it bc i'm confident it'll end up ok but god oh god oh no Bill i wish that hadn’t happened

Missy/Master sure is a thing. i'm really hoping Missy is stronger than that now, better than that now

fuck my emotions are all over the place

A M O N D A S I A N C Y B E R M A N

that Master reveal was straight out of Classic Who

"You've met the ex" / "I waited for you" oh shit oh no

NEXT TIME: my soul dies, everything is bad, aw fuck

#dw spoilers #world enough and time

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superqueerwritingfangirl-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Star Wars (Part 1)

Fandom: Merlin

Character Ship: Merlin x Reader

Word Count: 1729

Request: “Hi there, I love your stories and I had a Merlin x reader request. I rewatched the movie Stardust lately and the idea of a fallen star reader came to my mind, She has to keep it a secret because people use stars to stay young forever. Possibly she glows more around Merlin but plays it off with "that's what stars do"and maybe the reader is a little afraid merlin might use her for that?? Idk sorry if this is scrambled or doesn't make much sense. Anyway, Love ya” from anon

Author’s note: Oh my god!! I love Stardust so much!! I remember watching it when I was seven (when it first came out) and I was absolutely in love!! I’ve seen it a few times after but not recently. I went to rewatch it on Netflix before writing this but they took it down, so sorry if it isn’t accurate. This is ending up to be a two-parter because you started something in this girl.

A bright light shot across the midnight sky and suddenly the whole kingdom erupted with excited whispers. Shooting stars weren’t a rare occurrence to be seen in the starry night but when said shooting star hits the earth the whole world clammers for the magic that illuminates from the star. The greed surrounding a star has the ability to start and end a war in a matter of seconds, but stars have the abilities to bring nations together with the blink of an eye if only given the chance.

Once the star was reported to King Uther the knights had banded together and, along with Sir Arthur and Merlin, set off to find the star and destroy it before any others could find it. “Arthur, are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean, Merlin?” The prince asked.

“We know fallen stars aren’t just stars, they’re people Arthur,” Merlin stressed, riding on his horse through the woods.

“Yes, Merlin, but they are dangerous. They are of magic, they must be put down.” Arthur said, grimly. “I don’t want to hear another word about the matter or you should be tried for treason.” Arthur tapped the rump of his horse and sped ahead of Merlin. “Alright boys, keep an eye out for a large crater or a glowing person!” Merlin stifled a laugh, snorting at the empty-mindedness that is Arthur.

The group wandered around until the sun nearly started to come up. They had but given up hope for finding the star until, in a clearing near a waterfall a crater, nearly the size of Camelot itself, was spotted by Gwaine. “There!” He yelled, pointing to the massive thing.

“Search the perimeter. I want no stone unturned!” Arthur announced, with that the knights got off of theirs horses and began searching every inch of the land. Merlin was quiet, stepping just outside of the opening into the woods.

He was slow with his movements, gentle and well calculated, and that’s exactly what drew you out from your hiding. You could feel his aura, powerful but somehow kind and welcoming. You stepped out from behind the boulder that was currently your safe haven. “You are of magic, yes?” You asked, quite afraid of either answer. “Yes, but you must be quiet. If they find you they will not be as nice as I am. Are you the star that fell?”

“I am.” You confirmed, taking a step closer to the man. “And you are?”

“Merlin, I’m a warlock and those men? They’re knights of Camelot; I’m sure you, being of magic, know about Camelot.” Merlin rushed, whispering with immense care. He stepped towards you with such care. “If you wish to live we must get out of here.”

“What do you mean? You quizzed, peering all around you.

“Merlin?!” A voice, from the clearing, called out. “Where are you? Have you found anything?” The voice became clearer and closer with every word.

“We have to go!” He said, grabbing your arm and pulling you deeper into the woods. “If you don’t do as I say they will harm you.” You nodded quickly. Merlin looked ahead of you, eyes suddenly glowing a deep amber. He whispered some words in another language, conjuring up a small wooden building. “If they ask, you’ve lived here your entire life, alright?” Again you nodded, silently as he pushed you inside, revealing a cozy home. “I’m Merlin, by the way.”

Being a man of magic you trusted he was being honest, so you laid on the bed and pretended to be asleep. You heard his footsteps retreating away and part of you were afraid that he wouldn’t come back but then you heard a full group approach. You pulled the blanket over your shoulders, covering part of your face and closing your eyes.

You heard the main door slowly open and murmured voices. “Excuse me, ma’am?” You heard a strong voice ask.

You fiend waking up, overtly yawning and stretching. “What are you doing in my house?”

A man with blonde hair, that stood in front of the group came towards you. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but did you not hear the explosion?” As he asked his question your eyes caught with Merlin, his eyes widened at you, begging you to say something.

“I did. I just assumed it was some thieves they have been making all sorts of ruckus lately. You and your big, strong knights should really do something about it. I would really love to see you guys around more often, perhaps while I’m wearing better clothing.” You stated in a girly, overly sexy tone.

Looking over you saw Merlin smiling and holding back a laugh. “We’re sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.” A man said, he had dark brown hair and slight facial hair. The rest of the boys nodded and slowly, clumsily walked out.

You waited a bit longer on the bed, for the men to leave, hoping Merlin would come back and he did. Swiftly he knocked on the door, opening it just a crack. “Are you still here?”

“Come in.” You replied, standing from the bed and wrapping your arms around your body.

“You did great!” The man praised. “I have to sneak you into Camelot, my Uncle will know how to help you.”

He began pulling you out of the small cabin, but the second your skin met you began to glow a beautiful muted pink color. Merlin eyed the brilliant light for a moment, briefly stunned before he remembered you were, in fact, a star. It’s what you do. “Come, we have to go before they circle around.”

“Hold on!” You whisper yelled. “Who’s your uncle?”

“His name is Guias. He is of the old religion, he’ll know how to help you.” Merlin rushed, obviously impatient with you.

“I’m sorry. Does it seem like I need help? I am perfectly capable surviving on my own.” You said, stalking away from him. You knew how the world craved power, stealing it from fallen stars.

He didn’t bother following you, to your knowledge. In reality, e stayed a few yards behind, masking his footsteps with his wizardry. He knew bandits and other kingdoms would be searching far and wide for you and your valuable heart and he knew they’d try anything to get the power.

Walking back to where you had fallen you eyed up the waterfall. You were stunned by the beauty, completely focused on the falling water you walked over the the pool below and, without thinking, jumped in.

You dove down, the water far deeper than expected, twirling around in the cool water with glee. Running out of breathe you emerged from the surface. Breathing in you looked around only to find scruff men surrounding you. “Hello, pretty lady.” The man in front said, drawing a sword out of its scabbard and pointing it at you. “I suggest you come with us. There are so many scary things out here in the dark.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You informed, beginning to dive back into the water, just as a net was thrown at you, trapping you in its grasps. The men began pulling you out from the pond, the action pushing water into your throat and eyes. You screamed out, water rushing into your lungs. They pulled you onto dry land, though you were still soaking wet.

“Merlin!” You screamed. “Help!” You thrashed around in the net, kicking and screaming, trying to punch your captors. You managed to lay one good punch on the man pulling in the netting.

You fought your way out of the net, though your arm was stuck in one of the holes. Ripping it off of your arm you felt your skin tear, screaming out in pain as blood poured out of the wound. You took off running, seeing Merlin in the distance. “Merlin, I’m sorry, please help me.” You begged, crashing into him as he held you close.

Suddenly his eyes glowed a beautiful ember, once again, and boulders began falling from the top of the waterfall and crushing the men that threatened you. “Run!” He yelled, knowing not all of the men were trapped.

As you ran you held the gash in your arm as the blood seeped through the gaps in your fingers. After running for a few yards Merlin grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into a small opening in a mound of dirt. “Mer-” You began just as the warlock thrusted his hand over your mouth, signalling to be quiet.

You heard three sets of feet running over you and into the night. When he believed them to be gone he removed his hand from your mouth and took a sigh of relief. “Are you alright?”

You stuttered, suddenly feeling weak from loss of blood and the vigorous fighting. Suddenly muted you stuck your hand out, showing him the wound as blood dripped onto the legs of his pants. His eyes widened as he started down at the gaping wound, removing his scarf from around his neck. He folded it up into a long rectangle and tied it tightly around your arm, hoping to slow the blood loss. “All better?” He asked, smoothing hair out of your face, smiling brightly at you.

You nodded slowly, looking into his eyes, instinctively glowing at the funny feeling in your stomach. “How did you fall?”

“My sister, Yvaine, spoke of this beautiful world filled with magic and love and amazing people. I had to see it for myself, but her husband and the king refused. He was a human once and knew of the pain this world could bring. I snuck out and fell. I do not know if I’m allowed back. Tristan is a good man, he just wants to protect us. He’s seen the worst this world has to offer and apparently so have I.”

“Just about.” Merlin confirmed. “Are you able to walk?” He helped lift you up, wrapping his arm around your waist, helping you walk. “Come, let’s get you to Guias.”

The walk to Camelot was excruciating, Merlin losing track of his horse and at one point he picked you up, carrying you the rest of the way into the city. Just as you entered the city walls your mind became fuzzy, and gave out, causing you to pass out.

#merlin x reader #merlin x you #merlin fanfic #bbc merlin

12 notes · View notes

jikook-love · 8 years ago

Text

E[Love]

PART 1 | calculate the expectation of love.

student!jungkook + tutor!jimin = math!jikook ;)

alternatively, 16k+ of self-indulgent romantic crack, unnecessary dialogue and really bad math humour as reluctant math major Jungkook sets out on his quest for love.

Happy Valentine’s Day~! ♥ This is for @gracefulweather! She should know I probably destroyed my midterm mark thanks to her.

read the full story on AO3

“ARGH! I don’t wanna study anymore! Why am I even in this program?!”

The sudden outburst from second year Mathematics & Statistics major Jeon Jungkook startled some of the other students in the library, some of whom threw him the dirtiest look.

“Pipe down, won’t you?” Kim Seokjin—4th Year Honours Statistics and Vice-President of the Math Council—whispered, looking embarrassed for the younger, bespectacled boy. “Second year isn’t that bad. You’ll get it soon.”

“Says you who has the fucking smartest boyfriend in the entire university, probably,” Jungkook snapped, pulling off his glasses in frustration.

“He’s definitely not the smartest, and are you suggesting I leeched off him?” Seokjin scoffed. “It’s not like he wrote my exams for me.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook pouted as he slammed his head down into his books. “I don’t think I can memorize another probability distribution. Not that it matters anyway. I’m not passing that damn course.”

Seokjin sipped his coffee nonchalantly as he stared at Jungkook. “Tell me. Why are you even in this program anyway? Did you even like math in high school?”

“No,” Jungkook groaned, as he slumped further into papers.

“Well…you’re certainly not very good at it,” Seokjin said bluntly. “So why math?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Jungkook blurted, eyes wide. “I honestly don’t know!”

Seokjin sighed. “So in the end you’re one of those people,” he spoke. “You have no appreciation for this art of numbers, the poetry of proofs…nor the satisfaction of solving an arduous problem late after midnight.”

“More like finally finding the answer on Google,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

“I’m serious,” Seokjin said firmly. “Why do you think math professors are all like ‘I would wed the numbers if I could’? There’s just something about it, man. How do you think I managed to stay single for so long? That pure pleasure from drawing the complete of proofs square or writing QED at 3 a.m.…it’s more than enough.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jungkook gaped, disgusted by his older friend’s descriptions.

Jungkook would never appreciate math. Never. Ever. Even if he was in this program, there was always that inner part of him that wanted to scream “nerd” and laugh at every aspiring math major who walked by. He hated that sense of elitism that they all seemed to have—Seokjin and his overachieving, go-hard boyfriend Namjoon included: so what if you can calculate a triple integral or memorize the equation for a Gamma distribution? It really shouldn’t make you any better than other people.

“Oi, did you hear me?” Seokjin’s voice came back into his mind.

“Sorry. I was trying to remember things that should be better off forgotten,” Jungkook grimaced.

“Like your midterm marks?” Seokjin snorted. “Anyways, I was saying you should try getting a tutor for your courses.”

“That’s not going to work though,” Jungkook whined, adjusting the collar of his hoody. “At this point, I don’t even know what I don’t know.”

“And that’s where the tutor comes in,” Seokjin said. “I know this guy—you may know him too actually. You know Taehyung, right? He’s in your classes.”

Jungkook snorted. “Do I know Taehyung?” Jungkook repeated mockingly. “I tried studying together with him once. Somehow, we ended up at a park somewhere at 3 a.m. eating frozen yogurt and dancing around a tree—we both failed the linear algebra assignment together after that so you might not want him to tutor me.”

“Wow, you’re practically besties,” Seokjin said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not him that I was going to suggest but he has a friend who’s really good at math. The guy’s looking for a part time job right now too so maybe he could help you out.”

“Wait, you want me to pay for this shit?” Jungkook gaped. “Hey, I’m broke, remember? Student life? We don’t all have daddies to take care of us you know?”

“Namjoon is not my daddy.”

“I was talking about your actual father but your guilty conscience seems to be off the walls today,” Jungkook snorted loudly. “You should’ve seen your face when you said that. Such a serious expression. ‘Namjoon is not my—‘‘”

“For a dude who’s supposed to be quiet you sure are talking a lot today.” Seokjin was quite flustered at this point. “So do you want my help or not?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Jungkook grumbled. “I’ll give it a shot…but do I really have to pay for it?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Maybe if he likes you enough, he’d do it for free.”

“…maybe I can pay for it with my body.”

“Jeon Jungkook, ever since you entered second year you keep making jokes like that and it doesn’t really sit well with me,” Seokjin reprimanded. “You used to be so cute and innocent…what happened?”

“This freaking school happened. And who said I was joking? Maybe I really have no alternative at this point,” Jungkook responded.

Seokjin let out another exasperated sigh. “You know what, I think I’m done listening to you for today,” he concluded as he packed up his books. “I’ll message you Jimin’s e-mail and then you can do whatever you want with it.”

Jungkook stared at Seokjin as he pulled his backpack onto his shoulders. “Wait, who’s Jimin?

“The guy who’s hopefully gonna tutor you,” Seokjin answered. “You don’t know him? Park Jimin? 3rd Year Math & Stats? He actually has quite the reputation around here.”

“No…should I?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “He’s not one of those dudes, is he?”

“Jungkook, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about 50% of the time.”

“You know, one of those arrogant nerdy pricks that you and Namjoon like to hang around for some reason.”

“He’s nothing like that at all. And we don’t hang around people like that! You just have to get to know them.”

“This is why I don’t trust you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Seokjin reassured. “Just…give it a chance. Who knows? Maybe if you’re not so focussed on just being closed away all the time, perhaps you can learn to be commutative and associative with others as well…perhaps even gain an identity.”

“You disgust me.”

“Now that’s the inverse of what I wanted to hear.”

It was already 12:50 a.m. Instead of finishing up his calculus assignment like he was supposed to, Jeon Jungkook was on Facebook, messaging Taehyung, though it was partly because he’d gotten distracted while trying to search up the solution on Google.

Taehyung: how’s anal going by the way?

Jungkook: it is absolutely painful. i can’t even go to class anymore because it hurts so much

Taehyung: hmm. sucks to suck. i warned you not to take it so early.

Jungkook: i was young and foolish. i get it.

Jungkook sighed as he stared over to his neglected analysis (or “anal”, as him and Taehyung preferred to call it) textbooks, ones that he had bought brand new from the bookstore and hadn’t opened since.

Jungkook: so u know this jimin dude?

Taehyung: ya. we were best bros in high school

Jungkook: wat about now?

Taehyung: i mean obviously still but now he’s involved in a bunch of things and i'm just trying to pass lin alg so…

Taehyung: i mean we still meet up occasionally

Jungkook’s curiosity had been piqued before he could help himself. He typed the words Park Jimin into the Facebook search bar.

Jungkook: what does he look like?

Taehyung: black hair, short. idk how to describe him. i think he pretty plain. compared to me.

Jungkook found himself groaning before he could help it. Ugh, one of those people again. After scrolling through two pages of “Park Jimin”s with black hair, Jungkook decided to give up.

Taehyung: yo, how da fuq do you do question 3? what the hell is he even trying to ask

Jungkook: LOL ur asking me

Taehyung: screw it i'm going to sleep. ill do it in the morning

Jungkook: …it’s due at 9:30

Taehyung: i said. ill do it in the morning

And then he was gone, leaving Jungkook alone to contemplate the mystery that was Park Jimin, along with the massacre that was Question 3.

The Facebook message tone rang out again, and though Jungkook had expected it be to Taehyung, it was Seokjin instead. He opened to tab to see one line of e-mail, which undoubtedly had to be Park Jimin’s.

Jungkook stared at the address for a few seconds. Ugh. Who even uses e-mail anymore?

Deciding he had nothing better to do (mostly because question three gave him a headache just to look at), he opened up a new tab and logged into his e-mail, before promptly entering the address that had been given to him.

Hmmm….how should I word this? He had never really tried to e-mail another student professionally before, nor did he know what level of formality to use when addressing this person. Was he a stick in the mud? Was he chill like Taehyung? Jungkook had no clue, and the more he thought about it, the more discouraged he got: he was actually going to try and get help from a dude whom he had never met before. Was he really this desperate?

Exhaling to release any sliver of useless pride he had left, Jungkook brought his fingers to the keyboard and typed to his best discretion:

J, Jungkook

Tutoring Help

Hey,

My name is Jungkook and my friend Seokjin introduced you to me and said you could potentially tutor me.

Let me know if this is possible and when we can meet up.

Thanks,

Jungkook

Jungkook read it over. Once. Twice. After another deep sigh, he recollected himself and pressed send before he could hesitate any longer.

Deciding he had messed around long enough, he promptly turned his attention back to the dreaded question 3. Despite the dizziness he was already feeling in his brain due to the ungodly hour, he boldly picked up his pencil and decided to bullshit through the problem as best as he could.

Ping!

Jungkook nearly jumped at the sudden noise amidst the quiet.

Who’s e-mailing me at this time? Jungkook wondered as he grabbed his phone to check the notification.

He certainly did not expect to see what he saw.

Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hey Jungkook! I would love to…

That was fast. Before he knew it, Jungkook had already unlocked his phone, eager to read the rest of the message.

Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hello Jungkook!

I would love to try and help! Any friend of Jin’s is a friend of mine!

I know it’s short notice but I’m actually quite free tomorrow if you wanted to meet up.

What times are you free tomorrow? We could discuss things over coffee if you’d like!

Regards,

Park Jimin

Jungkook scrunched his nose up in annoyance, feeling turned off by the formal grammar and perfect mail syntax and lack of spelling errors and what kind of person even signs their mail with “regards” anymore? Jungkook scoffed at himself. This was only getting more and more hopeless. Despite that, Jungkook wasn’t really in the mood to hurt the guy’s feelings (yet) seeing as Jimin was so eager to respond. He decided to go along with it for now.

J, Jungkook

Re: Re: Tutoring Help

sounds good. how about 11 at the math café? and do you have facebook or something that I can add you on to make this easier?

He barely had to wait a minute to hear the notification ping again.

Park, Jimin

Re: Re: Re: Tutoring Help

That’s perfect!

And I’m really sorry but I don’t have Facebook. The only thing I use is e-mail so you can feel free to send me any questions or messages here! I’m usually fast at replying. I apologize for any inconvenience.

I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook! I’m off to bed now, have a good night!

Regards,

Park Jimin

“That loser doesn’t have Facebook?!” Jungkook couldn’t help blurt aloud for no one but himself to hear. He was really, really regretting this now. This person clearly seemed like the most stick in the mud nerd in the world. He was still using perfect punctuation in his message, went to sleep early (well, 1 a.m. but still), and evidently still used e-mail as his main form of communication.

Needing an outlet for venting (and realizing it was now past hour of proper comprehension for question three), Jungkook decided to vent in the form of a single lined message to Kim Taehyung who was probably asleep by now and would probably see the bright, uplifting message in the morning:

Jungkook: ugh. leave it to kim freaking seokjin to hook me up with the number one virgin nerd lord in the world.

Jungkook sat patiently on one of the tall chairs at the Math Café, waiting for his nerd tutor to arrive.

It was barely 10:40 a.m., but he’d decided he had nothing better to do after handing in his assignment. Plus he wanted a good excuse not to start the next one. As Jungkook casually sipped his coffee, he could sense quite a lot of dirty looks being thrown at his direction, and he knew exactly why.

If he had to be completely frank with himself, Jungkook really didn’t want to be taught by this person, and he didn’t want to have to say that aloud at any point during their meeting. So instead, he resorted making himself look as unappealing as possible. So there he was, decked out in his old rotten sneakers that had a toe poking out of the right shoe, his old black shorts that he found stuffed between the wall and his bed that hadn’t washed in god knows how long, a pair of black, thick-rimmed fake glasses and a bright, blazing red hoodie that seemed to engulf him. As a bonus, he hadn’t even bothered to take a shower nor brush his hair after he had forced himself to wake up at 7 a.m despite that he only managed to finish the assignment at 4 a.m.

In other words, he looked like a very unfashionable zombie.

And honestly, he loved it. Jungkook was truly in his “fucks-I-give-none” element now.

The minutes started ticking by, and Jungkook kept his eye on the entrance for any sign of a preppily dressed nerd lord, potentially carrying a suitcase. He could only be complete with ugly glasses and maybe even a receding hairline at this rate.

Before he knew it, it was already 11:05 a.m., and no nerd lord in sight.

Jungkook felt slightly disappointed. So nerd lord isn’t as lawful as I thought he’d be.

Ding!

Jungkook’s Facebook messenger notification went off. He swiped to find out that Kim Taehyung was finally awake:

Taehyung: shit. i forgot to do the assignment.

Taehyung: and wait. who’s a virgin nerd lord?

Jungkook was about to respond when another message popped up.

Taehyung: oh. you mean jimin? ya he’s a nerd alright.

Taehyung: maybe not a virgin but definitely a nerd ._.

Jungkook snickered to himself..

Jungkook: he seem like such a by the book guy dough :o

Taehyung: he is. have fun with him. LOL.

Jungkook: thanks L (he’s late btws)

Taehyung: lmao. still? dat boi never shows up on time to anything.

Jungkook sighed. It was now 11:07 a.m., and still no nerd lord in sight. Jungkook was starting to tap his foot in impatience, contemplating if this was a good enough excuse to storm out and call it quits on this whole attempt.

However, his attention was abruptly piqued when something suddenly caught his eye.

Or rather someone.

Jungkook grabbed his phone immediately.

Jungkook: yo. dude. there's a really cute guy walking in rn. omg. were there even cute guys in math?

Taehyung: LOL. and r00d. and i'm in math, remember?

Jungkook: oh shiet. he's coming in here

Taehyung: talk to him.

Jungkook: he seems busy. he’s …dressed up all nicely.

Taehyung: white button up?

Jungkook: ya.

Jungkook: with a black tie.

Taehyung: L.O.L. might as well offer him your ass to him now.

Jungkook: he’s talking to people. he looking for sum1 MAYBE HE ON A DATE

Taehyung: who the fuck would go on a date at the math café

Jungkook: oh shiiiettt he getting closer. w/e I’m just gonna watch. he so out of my league lmao

Taehyung: oh kookie. no one’s out of your league. u just gotta believe

Jungkook: u don’t know what I look like rn. ._.

Taehyung: if you talk to him, i’ll give you five bucks

Jungkook: nah man, I’m gud. I’ll just be happy staring at him.

Jungkook: why the fuq is he so close now. he still talking to people. is he still looking for sum1. O.O

Taehyung: you wish he was looking for u LOL ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Taehyung: by the way. wat happened to ur tutor? no show? LOL.

Jungkook was in the middle of typing “yeah I have no clue” when he suddenly sensed the presence of someone standing by his table.

“Excuse me?” The voice was nice. Smooth yet approachable.

He looked up.

His heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

It was the guy. The guy was at his table. And he was talking to him.

If Jungkook thought the boy was “acutey” from afar, he was freaking beautiful up close. He had silky black hair that draped nicely over the porcelain skin of his forehead. His lips were plump and pretty and pink and Jungkook’s mind was already going to indecent places upon seeing them up close. And what’s more, his slanted, brown eyes were captivating as anything, soft and gentle and the way they were slightly widened in expectancy made Jungkook want to grab him right then and there. And what’s more, he was dressed completely in the style that Jungkook was totally weak for: white shirt, black tie…and the way those form-fitting black pants hugged his…

But instead of letting all the beauty overwhelm his senses and distract him completely, Jungkook suddenly became extremely aware of what he personally looked like, and immediately regretted all of his life decisions.

“Um…can I—uh, like, help you…or something?” Jungkook managed to stutter out very awkwardly.

“Are you Jeon Jungkook by any chance?” the boy smiled.

Jungkook felt his breath catch in his throat. How does he know my name? Jungkook’s brain (slightly abnormal from the lack of sleep) was spinning. Destiny, it has to be destiny, he concluded.

Jungkook coughed. “Yeah. I am.”

The boy’s smile widened. It was blinding.

His brain was running haywire. This is it. This is my reward for suffering in this program for so long. He’s gonna tell me I’m the only sin of pi over two for him. I finally get a sexy boyfriend. Yes, yes, YES—

“I’m Park Jimin, your tutor?” the boy said, still smiling. “We emailed each other last night?”

Jungkook’s smile disappeared as he suddenly lost balance and fell out of his chair in surprise. He crashed harshly to the ground—much like the reality surrounding him at that moment.

“WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A HOT BEST FRIEND?” Jungkook screamed immediately upon bursting into Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung groaned from his bed. “Why do I feel like—wow, you look ratchet—this has happened before in some alternate universe?”

“What does that even mean?” Jungkook blabbered. “Anyways, I totally made a fool of myself.”

“How bad could it be? It’s you after all,” Taehyung grinned.

“I fell out of my chair.”

Taehyung blinked. “How—”

“It just got exponentially worse, ok?” Jungkook sighed. “I was already tired from the three hours of sleep and then he came up to me which was already not okay and then he just throws the bomb—”

“I think you meant ‘drops the bomb’,” Taehyung mumbled.

“—and I’m lucky I didn’t die, okay? I thought my heart was going to stop. And what nerd lord? I’m sorry, but that ass alone—I’m telling you it has like…no upper bound if ya know what I’m saying.”

Taehyung glared at Jungkook. “What does that even mean? That doesn’t even make sense. His ass is a freaking parabola, of course it has an upper bound—why are you even fast tracking third year analysis—anyways, first of all, you assumed he was the nerd lord. I only told you what I honestly think of him…besides, did he agree to tutor you in the end?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but allow a slight smile to crack onto his face.

“Yea…” he said quietly. He promptly received a pillow in the face.

“Ew. Quit acting like a smitten maiden, it’s grossing me out,” Taehyung grumbled. “But now that I think about it you two should totally date. He’s like your complement: you two complete each other.”

“Ha, as if I have a chance now,” Jungkook sighed. “I’m lucky he just laughed it off. But he probably thinks I’m a loser.”

“Well, he’d find out you’re a loser eventually anyways so it’s better now than later,” Taehyung noted.

Jungkook threw his friend the dirtiest look.

“Anyways, I love how you didn’t even bother putting two and two together: he was obviously your tutor. Why else would he go up to you? You think you’re cute or something?” Taehyung snickered.

Jungkook returned the pillow back to Taehyung with an aggressive throw (but missed). “Shut up. Unlike you, I didn’t have enough sleep last night.”

“Excuses. When do math majors ever get enough sleep? When do we even get anything? We’re all here because we secretly like the pain.”

“Last time I checked I wasn’t a masochist like you.”

“Check again, brother. We all are to some extent,” Taehyung grinned. “Anyways, when are you seeing him again?”

“Friday night,” Jungkook muttered.

“Where?”

“…my place.”

“Ooh.”

Ding dong!

The sound of the doorbell caused Jungkook to jump in his place, accidentally popping his collar up too high as he tried to adjust it.

“Omg, he’s here,” Jungkook muttered to himself, as he practically scampered over to the door and whipped it open.

“H—hey t—there…I mean…uh, sup?” Jungkook sputtered smoothly the moment he caught sight of his spiffy tutor.

Park Jimin blessed Jungkook with a pretty close lipped smile.

“Your grades should be after I’m done with you,” Jimin winked, brushing past Jungkook as he stepped inside.

Jungkook blinked, clearly too slow to get the quip. “What?”

“Where should I hang my coat up, Jungkook?” Jimin asked while Jungkook fumbled with the door.

“Uh—um, I can take it,” Jungkook said quickly, trying not to stare awkwardly as Jimin peeled off his coat. To anyone else, the familiar dress shirt, black tie and tight slacks may not have been the most arousing costume to reveal underneath, but Jeon Jungkook sure as hell tried to hide his gulp as he took the coat from Jimin.

Would it weird if I suddenly just buried my face into this and—yeah, yeah it would. Never mind. Jungkook shook the thoughts out of his mind as he quickly hung the coat in the closet.

“So, where do you want me?” Jimin asked.

“My bedroom,” Jungkook blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Uh—I meant that we’d be studying i-in my room…y’know, cause there’s a desk and I-I cleared up a space f-for us,” Jungkook stuttered like the absolute value of a loser that he was. Oh my god, this speech issue needs to STOP.

“Oh okay,” Jimin nodded. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly, and practically leapt two steps up the stairs as he took Jimin to his room. He’d spent the entire morning attempting to clean it up in order to potentially impress his evidently immaculate tutor.

Jungkook opened the door and showed Jimin to the sitting desk that he’d set up.

“You can set up here,” Jungkook gestured. “D-do you want some tea or something in the meantime?”

“It’s fine, let’s just get right to it,” Jimin smiled softly. Jungkook thought he felt his heart skip a beat when Jimin said that. He was weak. So, so weak right now.

And whether or not Jimin noticed, he did manage to say some comforting words: “Relax, I’m not here to make you feel incompetent or anything. I remember struggling insanely in my second year as well, so I’m the last person who’d make fun of you.”

“What year are you in now?” Jungkook asked as he settled down across from Jimin.

“Third,” Jimin smirked. “I’m not saying it gets better, but at this point, at least you’re used to it.”

“Wait…are you taking third year Real Analysis?”

“Yeah, why? Are you planning on taking it next year?”

“Well…things happened…and I’m actually taking the course right now…”

Jimin’s face lit up. “Actually? That means we’re in the same class! What are the chances…wait, how come I’ve never seen you before then?”

It’s because I never go to class, Jungkook thought shamefully. But he couldn’t let Jimin know. Fortunately, Jimin beat him to an excuse.

“Hmm…it’s probably because I always sit alone at the very front row, which is why I don’t see you,” Jimin noted.

“Y-yeah, that’s it,” Jungkook quickly agreed.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on!” Jimin blurted suddenly. “I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

Jungkook was speechless. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and he had already been offered a seat next to his tutor/eternal crush in lecture. For someone in the math program, that was like getting to second base…right? (At least that’s what Taehyung told him all the way in first year.)

Jimin suddenly let out a slight chuckle at Jungkook’s lack of response. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m such a loser,” he confessed awkwardlty. “The nerd that sits at the front of class. Alone. All my friends didn’t want to take the course because they thought it’d be too difficult.”

Jungkook immediately felt a surge of guilt for all the “nerd lord” comments.

“No! No way! Not at all!” Jungkook blabbered in a hurry, waving his hands everywhere. “I-I’ve always thought it was the cooler kids that sat at the front. You know, the ones that truly care and have connections with the prof and stuff.” The latter part, at least, was his genuine thought.

“If you say so,” Jimin smiled. “What about you? Why did you take the course early? You must’ve really liked second year analysis.”

“Um…well…” Jungkook shuffled uncomfortably in his place.

“It’s fine to admit you like it,” Jimin said. “I find it really interesting, personally. Even though I know it’s not exactly the easiest thing.”

“I…I was kind of pranked into taking it…”

“…what?”

Jungkook sighed. “One of my friends told me it would be an easy course to take a minute before course applications were due and…I believed him. I haven’t even taken the second year analysis. I’m just really lost and confused.”

Jimin appeared stunned. “You…you actually believed Analysis, an entire proof-based course, would be an easy course?”

Jungkook nodded unwillingly.

Jimin remained silent for a few more moments before he recovered enough to speak:

“Wow, Jungkook, you really are going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

Jungkook screamed, shoving his head into his papers.

“I don’t get it!” he yelled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We’ve already spent so much time and I just don’t understand. It’s a knot in my mind and I just—”

“Jungkook, relax—” Jimin tried as he reached out with his hands in an attempt to calm Jungkook down.

“—I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I’m totally gonna fail this course. I accept it now.”

“Jungkook, calm down….it’s only been five minutes.”

Jungkook’s head perked up. “What? Oh.” He scuffled away, looking embarrassed. “It felt a lot longer than that…”

Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s antics. “I’m sorry you felt that way,” Jimin smiled encouragingly. “I must’ve been a bad teacher then.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “No! No, no, no! That’s not it at all! I’m clearly just stupid, that’s all.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Jimin scolded. “I wouldn’t be teaching you if I knew you were hopeless.”

“But like you said, it’s only been five minutes,” Jungkook mumbled.

“Exactly, now flip back to that first lecture and let me teach you.”

Jungkook reluctantly flipped Jimin’s pages back to where they were before, trying to hide his blatant disregard for the topic.

“Don’t look so bored before you even started,” Jimin said as he hit Jungkook lightly on the shoulder. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Jungkook definitely felt a tiny shiver where his attractive teacher’s fingers had lingered.

“But…it’s such a dull topic,” Jungkook groaned, staring at the page of symbols that ought to have been familiar to him…but were not.

“Really? I don’t think so. Difficult to wrap your head around maybe, but definitely not boring,” Jimin stated.

Jungkook shuffled again. “Yeah, well…”

“I’ll do my best to persuade you by the end of all this,” Jimin grinned.

“You seem so passionate about this.”

“Well, of course,” Jimin said at once. “It’s learning how to rigorously prove why we do things the way we do: why we count the way we do, what numbers truly are, why things defined are the way they are. I mean, we only scratch the surface of it all by the end of the course but it’s still quite a beautiful concept. Just like all of math. It’s more abstract than you think. It’s like its own form of art.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but be drawn in by the genuine smile on Jimin’s face as he spoke all of these things that seemed worlds away from how Jungkook felt.

“Wow…” Jungkook uttered dumbly. “I never really thought about math that way…”

Jimin’s smile temporarily disappeared from his face as he turned to look at Jungkook.

“Really?!” Jimin seemed shocked. “Aren’t you in second year?”

Jungkook gulped.

Jimin tilted his head upwards in thought. “Hmm…well I guess it still hasn’t gotten too specific in second year. You still have time. Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on enough. Let’s go ahead and teach you how to prove two is an irrational number…”

Jungkook’s heart throbbed for Jimin as he diligently wrote out the proof for Jungkook, annotating verbally and in detail as he went. After seeing Jimin’s full dedication towards the field of math, Jungkook really didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way at all.

But as he continued watching Jimin scribbling out the proof, his handwriting neat and clear, each number crisp and pristine on the sheet of lined paper, Jungkook couldn’t help but become slightly intrigued. The way the tutor’s wrist was poised as he scrawled out his “there exist”s and “such that”s; the way his eyes lit up as he subtly sped up in excitement towards the end…

“There! All finished!” Jimin announced, as he drew two diagonal straight lines to signify the end of his proof. Jungkook said nothing, and merely sat there quietly, carefully observing Jimin’s vibrant and pure expression which had arose from something as mundane as demonstrating a proof.

It was obvious that Jungkook didn’t have the same amount about of passion when it came to math…

…for now.

The feeling of going to a class you hadn’t been to in so long was definitely not a good one.

Despite that bothersome feeling, Jungkook’s lips couldn’t refrain from quirking upwards, knowing who was waiting for him inside.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on! I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

The words echoed repeatedly in the void that was Jungkook’s mind. He tried to hide the wide smile that was cracking onto his face by covering it up with his phone. At the same time, he also kind of needed to check the room number of the lecture hall that he hadn’t been to since the first day of class.

At long last, the doors were in sight. Jungkook practically burst inside, his eyes scanning past the tall, lanky prof and the various cliques of well-dressed Asians and bespectacled over achievers to search for his one and only target in the front row.

As he was wondering whether or not to call out, Jimin noticed him first and waved excitedly, mouthing his name. Feeling slightly embarrassed and not wanting to attract any further attention to himself, Jungkook slightly ducked as he ran over to Jimin.

“Hey, did you have any classes before this?” Jimin asked effortlessly, as if he naturally started conversations all the time (a trait that was foreign to Jungkook).

“No, this is my earliest class,” Jungkook responded stiffly as he arranged his bag below his feet. It was strange to sit in the front row—there was a surprising amount of leg space.

“Lucky~” Jimin drawled, tapping his pen on the side of his tiny desk. “I had an 8:30 this morning. I almost fell asleep.”

“You seem like the early bird type though,” Jungkook commented.

“Really?!” Jimin gaped. “What made you think that?”

“I don’t know...” Jungkook trailed off when he suddenly noticed that Jimin looked…different. Gone were the tie and button-up, to be replaced with a casual black hoodie and a pair of ripped, denim jeans. He looked like any other regular college student.

Well, an extremely cute regular college boy.

“You look different,” Jungkook opted to say.

“Hmm? From what?” Jimin asked, confused.

“From last night.” Jungkook thought he sensed a few people throw questionable looks in their direction as they heard the phrase without context.

Jimin burst into a vibrant laugh. “You didn’t really think I’d come to class in a tie and slacks, did you?”

“Well…I—”

“That was because I didn’t know what kind of student you’d be, so I wanted to show up professional,” Jimin grinned.

Jimin suddenly leaned over the chair arm separating them, ending up much closer to Jungkook than he expected. Another brilliant smile. Jungkook was going to die of a heart attack at this rate.

“I take this as I won’t have to anymore?” Jimin asked, dragging his words out deliberately. “Are you more comfortable with me like this?”

Jungkook stared blankly, having been rendered speechless. Oh my god, how am I going to deal with this? Is he flirting with me? I can’t tell. Do math people even flirt? They have to right? I mean, professors are all married so they must—

“Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You dropped your pen, by the way”

Jungkook blinked, only to realize that Jimin was suddenly holding a battered blue pen in his hand.

Oh. So that’s why he leaned over.

“Oh, um, thanks…” Jungkook muttered quickly, grabbing his pen and averting his eyes at once.

“Good morning everybody!” the professor called out. He let out a sigh under his breath. Phew. Saved by the prof. For once.

The professor continued speaking with his thick foreign accent. “Today we will be continuing with the definition of convergence and divergence…”

Jungkook immediately zoned out. Nope. It didn’t even matter that he told himself he’d actually try and pay attention in order impress Jimin for once—neither his heart nor mind seemed to be truly up for it. It was all gibberish, foreign gibberish to him (and some of it even looked like the written script of some language he didn’t know—what the hell was ∀n∊N ∃ x > ∞ supposed to mean?)

The professor was trying to ask questions again, something about a diverging function and Jungkook only sank further into his seat. Why did professors even bother trying sometimes? They should know after so many years of teaching that the only response they’d be getting was a long, uneasy silence.

“Jimin?” The professor called the familiar name, his eyes suddenly directed towards Jungkook’s direction.

Wait, what?! Jungkook bolted upwards from his slouched position under the professor’s eye and swiftly glanced beside him to catch Jimin just lowering his hand having just raised it.

Jungkook stared with widened eyes, almost veering away from the sudden shock.

Oh my god. The prof knows his name. He’s literally that guy.

“That’s false because even when you have two divergent functions, their product isn’t necessarily divergent as well,” Jimin answered with the most confident smile on his face. “Like (-1)n and (-1)n.”

The professor appeared flustered for a moment, but immediately restored himself with a proud smile.

“You’re going a bit ahead but that’s ok, Jimin,” the professor acknowledged. “So as Jimin said…”

But Jungkook wasn’t even listening anymore. Did he even understand a word of what Jimin just said? Not really. He could only stare at Jimin, speechless, and not even trying to bother to hide the slight smile on his face. His heart throbbed violently in his chest. He thought he had sensed it last night, when Jimin completed solving the problem, but after witnessing what he’d just seen, it was all the proof he needed.

The eloquence in which Jimin spoke his words; the confident aura that radiated when he answered the professor without batting an eyelash; the correct and overachieving solution that he’d provided; the thoroughness of the response that proved he knew what he knew; and the numbers and words that spilled out of his mouth as he spoke with that proud and knowing smile…

That was just so…so…

Jungkook gulped, trying to hold the thought back but couldn’t.

..so sexy.

So when Jimin turned to face him, he nearly jumped in his seat, forgetting that as brilliant as Jimin was, he still couldn’t read minds.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jimin grinned, not noticing Jungkook’s expression as his mind still appeared to be caught up in all the deductions.

Yes you are, Jungkook wanted to say.

“Yeah…totally,” Jungkook responded dumbly. “You’re so good…at this.”

For the rest of the class, Jimin intently watched the prof while Jungkook intently watched Jimin. His heart welled up every time Jimin raised his hand to answer a question. Each and every proof sounded more and more eloquent as they came from Jimin’s lips. He could see the girls in the row behind them rolling their eyes and whispering to one another as Jimin kept raising his hand over and over again but he couldn’t care less.

Jungkook caught himself smiling again before he knew it. He gazed endearingly at Jimin’s profile, who was bent over and scribbling something detailed in his notes. Jimin’s eyes had never seemed this lovely before, not without that spark of excitement within them. And his lips were prettier like this, parted in anticipation as he focussed keenly on the numbers before him.

Jungkook’s heart raced faster and faster as he kept staring dumbstruck at Jimin. As he realized something, Jungkook merely sighed to himself, leaning his hand into face as he continued gazing.

So this must be the beauty of math…

Jimin had class after analysis so Jungkook had to reluctantly part ways with him. Jungkook immediately headed to the familiar Room 441 in the math building, which was the lab where Namjoon worked. Luckily for them, the supervising professor was extremely easy-going, and apparently didn’t seem to care when (his favourite student) Namjoon let all his friends hang out in the lab. Thus, their little group would usually be found hanging out in Namjoon’s lab whenever the prof was out of office.

When Jungkook opened the door, he found the guests of the hour to be Seokjin and their friend Jung Hoseok from Math & Computer Science.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Namjoon waved from his desk. Seokjin and Hoseok didn’t seem to notice as they appeared to be in a deep debate over something.

“Hey,” Jungkook responded, slightly airily as he settled down and pulled his lunch out of his bag.

“Can you at least greet your friend?” Namjoon glared at Seokjin and Hoseok as he chomped down on an apple.

Seokjin’s eyes lit up when he saw Jungkook. “Oh my gosh, finally! A third person! Get over here.”

Jungkook scrambled over and sat next to them, slightly flustered “Why? What is it?”

“You know Dr. Pae, right?” Seokjin asked, almost urgent.

“Yeah, the one who’s popular with all the girls?” Jungkook nodded. “Why?”

“Okay, so you know how he has a girlfriend, right?” Seokjin continued. “The really attractive blonde one?”

“…sure?”

Seokjin slammed his fist down the desk, startling everyone in the lab.

Namjoon tried negotiating between mouthfuls of apple. “Yo, dude, can you like calm dow—”

“Well this boy here—“ Seokjin paused dramatically, pointing at Hoseok. “—claims to have seen him holding hands with a brunette the other day. And guess what? Guess what? He was guiding her with his hand while she was walking over a stone path. Can you believe it? The man’s got game. Man I didn’t know that was what game theory was really about, because if I had known, I would have taken that course.”

“For the last time,” Hoseok grimaced, also placing his hand firmly on the table. “Just because he was holding hands with her, doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in a romantic relationship.”

“He was walking her over a stone path though!” Seokjin argued. “That’s so romance! Who even does that?”

“Maybe she was his sister or something. You don’t know that,” Hoseok asserted.

“Would you hold hands with your sister and guide her over a path for no apparent reason?” Seokjin snarled back, getting more and more aggressive.

“…no.”

“Exactly!”

“But that’s just me though!” Hoseok blurted, on the edge of his seat to fight for his argument. “I’m sure there are brothers out there who would hold hands with their sister.”

“Yeah, if you’re like weirdly close,” Seokjin frowned. “Anyways, Jungkook, we wanted to wait for you to come. What do you think? Romantic or platonic?”

Jungkook stared blankly as he took another bite of his sandwich, trying to avoid the assertive gazes from the both of them as they awaited an answer.

“Um…” Jungkook dwelled as he chewed on his sandwich. “Why don’t you ask Namjoon?”

Seokjin waved his hand dismissively. “You know how he always is. All provisos. He’s always like—“ He dropped his voice three pitches lower. “—everything is situational. We cannot place assumptions until we have more evidence. Blah blah blah—”

“I do not sound like that,” Namjoon interrupted.

“Be quiet, do your work,” Seokjin snapped. “Jungkook, just answer it. Which do you think?”

“Uhh…I agree with Namjoon,” Jungkook replied quickly.

Seokjin threw his hands up in defeat while Hoseok slammed his head on his keyboard.

“Freaking useless. All of you,” Seokjin groaned, stabbing his fork angrily into a piece of chicken. “We’ll settle this now. I can’t handle all these scandals in the math department. First Dr. Lee’s sugar daddy scandal with Dr. Choi and now Dr. Pae. That’s why you get a PhD in math: so you can gain an unbelievable amount of game. Let me market this program, please. I’ll show you what true exponential growth is. “

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Namjoon groaned from behind his computer.

“Oi, where’s Yoongi? Call him. I need to finish this,” Seokjin commanded.

“He has class,” said Hoseok. “He’s coming in like half an hour though.”

“Darn it, I have class then,” Seokjin sighed. “It’s ok. You can ask him and I’ll ask some of my other friends.”

“Why don’t you guys sample for something that might actually be worthwhile data for once?” Namjoon asked cynically.

“Because then I’d have to do more work analyzing it,” said Hoseok. “And I ain’t about that life.”

Seokjin checked his watched, frowning to himself. “I really don’t wanna go to class…” he sighed to himself.

“Yo, we’re math kids,” Hoseok said. “None of us ever wanna go to class. But we have to.”

“Namjoon does,” Seokjin scoffed. “Always.”

“So does Jimin,” Jungkook mentioned subsconsciously, without thinking.

Silence.

“Um…who’s Jimin?” Hoseok asked.

“The guy that’s tutoring him right now,” Seokjin answered. “Thanks to my brilliant suggestion, of course. Well, unless it’s not going well. What’s he like, by the way, Jungkook?”

“He’s like…um…” Jungkook struggled to find the proper words to describe his new tutor.

It suddenly struck him out of nowhere.

“He’s like…Euler’s identity.”

Namjoon dropped his chewed up apple. Hoseok spilled all of his rice while Seokjin merely stared.

“Oh my god, he thinks he’s unworldly and irrevocably beautiful,” Seokjin gaped.

“Jungkook, since when did you even know what that meant?” Namjoon asked.

Hoseok grinned. “It looks like he’s finally got a crush.”

“On Jimin though?” Seokjin gaped. “I mean his grades may be way above average but his looks…they’re a minor fraction of mine. Not even close.”

“What? Are you blind?” Jungkook blurted as he couldn’t help it.

The three others in the room exchanged confused looks (though Seokjin’s was marginally more offended).

Hoseok was the first one to break into a mocking smile. “I think you’re the one who’s blind here,” he said. “Blind for lurve~”

“Shut up!” Jungkook retorted. “I mean, I just met him so…”

“But you do seem awfully smitten already,” Namjoon noted objectively, to which Jungkook had no response.

Seokjin sighed from the side. “Well, there’s really no reason for me to prevent this from happening…for now. But you better not get distracted. He’s there to help your grades. Not…anything else.”

“Like Namjoon helped you back then?” Hoseok cackled from the side, after which he received a wad of napkins in the face, courtesy of Kim Seokjin.

“Anyways, I want to see your grades improve,” Seokjin stated firmly. “Otherwise it defeats the whole purpose of you meeting Jimin.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure they will. He’s a good teacher. He’s been very helpful.”

“I’m sure he has,” Hoseok snorted, clearly not giving up the opportunity.

“Can you not encourage him?” Seokjin scolded. “He’s clearly side-tracked enough as it is. Please don’t alter my good intentions.”

“Yeah, I’d never let him live it down,” Namjoon murmured gleefully from the side.

“Can you be quiet? It’s better than you! You just sit there all day and let them do whatever they want,” Seokjin retorted.

“But if he falls in love and gets distracted, I’m gonna’ be right and you’re going to be wrong,” Namjoon considered.

“…are you seriously contemplating the possibility of your junior’s undergraduate career being ruined just so you can be right?”

Namjoon shook his head defensively. “Of course not! Jungkook’s a smart kid…well, he’s passing everything. So I’m sure having a healthy, fun relationship with an intelligent guy wouldn’t hurt anybody. So go get him Kookie.”

“No. The only thing that he’s getting from Jimin is better grades,” Seokjin asserted firmly, seeming completely satisfied with himself.

That is, until Hoseok decided he really, truly could not resist:

“…what if he ends up getting a D instead though?”

For the first time that entire morning, Namjoon had to stand up. And that was only to hold Seokjin back from throwing a chair at Hoseok.

Jungkook crawled into bed earlier than usual that night, feeling strangely enlightened. His chest felt lighter than usual, as if just seeing Jimin for just that hour alone made it all worth it. In fact, if it hadn’t been for all that chaos in Namjoon’s lab, he might have felt completely at ease for the first time in a while.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he cozied under his covers. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t like math up until now…

Jungkook sighed, arms tucked under his head as he stared at the dark ceiling. Park Jimin. The only thought that seemed capable of occupying his mind. He wanted to witness it again: that eloquence, that beauty when Jimin solved problems.

When he could no longer resist that aching feeling in his chest, Jungkook reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. His finger hovered over the mail app, almost longingly, before he touched it completely on impulse.

Jungkook straightened up to write his message.

J, Jungkook

Hey jimin,

r u free at all tomorrow? I only have one class

I could use some help

sorry if ur busy it’s fine

Unlike the first time, Jungkook couldn’t press send fast enough. His hands quivered as the email was confirmed to be sent. And hopefully, if it was anything like before…

Ping!

His heart nearly dropped in his chest. His mind was ahead of his body as his fingers fumbled to open the message.

Park, Jimin

Lunch Date?

Jungkookie!

Don’t be sorry, I’d always be glad to hear from you ^^

I’m free around lunch time so is there anything you’d like to eat?

uhjdugv

Jimin

He felt like a complete loser, smiling from ear to ear all alone in his bed as he read Jimin’s message. Jungkook could hear Jimin’s encouraging tone of voice in his head, and it was more than gratifying.

And also…what was this about a date?

Jungkook’s heart did a bunch of flips and turns just speculating about what may-be-but-not-really a date with his dreamboat of a tutor.

It’s a…study date. Yeah. That’s all it is. Jungkook tried to calm himself down with the reassuring conclusion.

First thing first, he needed to answer Jimin’s question, with eloquence and tact, as Jeon Jungkook would always do when approaching a crush:

J, Jungkook

Re:

yeeeeeeee totally down.

And also correlating to Jeon Jungkook’s regular behaviour, he only realized how rash and stupid his decision was after he had executed it.

Jungkook buried his entire body beneath his blanket and kicked around violently, not realizing how dumb he sounded until now that the message was declared to be “sent”.

Down? What the hell am I? He’s not Taehyung. I can’t just say whatever I want! Oh my god. What is wrong with me.

The morbidity was too much for his partially unscathed soul as he continuing abusing his blanket and bed, slamming his fists and kicking his legs. That’s it. It was all ruined. His one chance to get a nice tutor and even potentially, with the slimmest probability, a cute boyfriend and he had to ruin all those confidence levels in a heartbeat.

Another ping sounded from his phone, momentarily pausing his rampage as he poked his head out from the bottom of the covers near his bed’s footboard (god knows how he ended up there). He immediately blazed the LCD glow directly into his eyes.

Park, Jimin

Re:

Haha. You’re cute.

I’ll see you tomorrow :3

uhjdugv

Jimin

Jungkook’s eyes widened, after which they blinked slowly in disbelief. Luckily it was dark and there was no one else in the room, because he felt himself turning as red as his hoody from that morning.

Oh my god…did he just call me…cute?

He was frozen in shook. This can’t be real. Not already. Since when did he deserve good things? If the Park Jimin thought he was cute, surely karma didn’t exist.

He countered the negatives in his head, though he did it by adding alternative negative thoughts.

Maybe he just says that to everyone. There’s no way he could think I’m cute, not already.

Jungkook swivelled around on his bed like a confused tortoise, bringing his chin back to rest on his pillows. He pursed his lips into a pout, wondering how to deal with himself. Jimin was slowly but surely corrupting his mind—not that there was much left to corrupt anyways—and this probably wasn’t the best timing. Seokjin was probably going to kill him.

Jungkook sighed to himself, finally flipping himself over into a sleeping position at last. He tucked his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and trying to put himself to sleep after what felt like a long day. Tomorrow was a different day, and sleeping it off was the only thing he could do now to calm his nerves.

When his eyes finally fluttered shut, Jungkook found himself having rather sweet dreams about Jimin that night.

By 2:30 p.m., Jungkook was already waiting in the lobby of their school library.

Despite how eagerly his heart was thumping in anticipation, he tried to maintain a casual appearance. Jungkook had pulled out brand new, unworn shirt and jeans from the closet for this occasion, and he’d already fixed his hair for the nth time that morning (despite that it was near impossible for a strand to be out of place because he’d checked at least another hundred times before he left the house). Needless to say, he wanted Jimin to be impressed for once.

Jungkook bit his lip in anxiety as he checked his watch again (he also never wore watches so the action itself seemed extremely foreign to him). Jimin was late. Again. And he couldn’t help but feel impatient about it.

“Jungkook-ah!”

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone as he heard the voice that he’d been so anxiously waiting for. His eyes lit up as he saw Jimin heading towards him with the brightest smile, black hair bouncing pleasantly as he ran.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Jimin gasped, catching his breath. “The professor kept me overtime. Did you wait long?”

Jungkook returned what he thought to be his most encouraging smile. “No! Not at all! I just got here as well,” he said convincingly.

Despite that he’d spent hours getting dressed in the morning, Jungkook still felt far from worthy of comparison to Jimin. Even though it looked like he wasn’t trying at all, Jimin had to be at the very, very least an 8 out of 10 in his glasses, bomber jacket and ripped jeans.

Jungkook held back a sigh. Their little date hadn’t even started yet and he already felt discouraged.

“So, where did you want to go?” Jimin asked.

“Nowhere in particular, as long as it’s with you,” Jungkook answered, the last part coming out a lot more honestly than he’d intended.

Fortunately, Jimin’s smiled only widened. “That’s good. I had a particular place in mind. And you look like you could use a little sweetness in your life.”

Jungkook blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned, blatantly confused. Is sweetness supposed to code for something?

Jimin laughed, seeming embarrassed.

“Nothing. I just wanted to…joke around a little…”

Moments later, Jungkook found himself sitting with Jimin at a nearby desserts café, with a giant strawberry and chocolate waffle sitting in front of him, topped with insane ice cream and whipped cream quantities that could only be considered outliers.

The cringing agony arrived much too late for Jungkook. Oh my god, he was trying to tell a punny joke and I was too busy trying to analyze whether or not he was flirting with me that I didn’t even bother laughing. This is already going wrong. So. Horribly. Wrong.

But all this time, Jimin hadn’t seemed to notice. He was just pleasantly sipping on his customized hot mocha beverage that had a cute latte heart design in it, humming slightly as he flipped back and forth through the notebook he was holding in his hands.

“Um…Jimin?” Jungkook spoke up.

Jimin looked up from his pages, meeting eye contact with Jungkook as he adjusted his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, mildly concerned. “Did you not like it? My friend swears it’s good.”

Jungkook gulped, trying not to let himself be distracted by the glory that was bespectacled Jimin. “You really didn’t have to buy this for me…”

Jimin dropped his notebook, reaching up to push his glasses onto his nose bridge before looking directly at Jungkook (whose heart skipped a beat with 100% certainty) as he spoke:

“We’re all poor university students,” he said rationally, with a gentle smile. “You know better than to give up free food. Now eat up before it all melts.”

It took a few moments for Jungkook to even process what Jimin was talking about—he had been distracted by glasses after all. Surprisingly and spontaneously obedient, Jungkook nodded promptl as he swiftly picked up his fork with a shaky hand and pressed through the soft cream and pastry.

“Now,” Jimin continued speaking as he leaned his pretty face into hand and looked at Jungkook through his glasses. “Should we start going through these notes or should I wait until you finish eating?”

Jungkook wanted to slam his head into the wall. His mind was clearly not in the right places, not after seeing that upward gaze that appeared much too sultry for no reason in particular.

“Feel see to fart!” he blurted. Shit. “I mean, feel free to start!” The idea of stabbing himself with the fork to end it all was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

Curtly, Jimin ignored Jungkook’s little stumble and proceeded to go through how to calculate expectations and variances of a distribution. Jungkook tried hard to listen, he really did, but he kept slipping in and out of a distracting mood. He continued staring at Jimin, the way his bangs slightly fell over the frame of his glasses as he was bent over and writing on the paper.

Jungkook sucked on his fork, eyes slightly lidded as he watched Jimin. Hmm…this waffle tastes so, so much sweeter than I expected it to…

“Do you get it, Jungkook?” Jimin asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jungkook tried to not choke on the whipped cream. “Hmmph, what?” he garbled unattractively.

“Do you get what the difference is between an expectation and a variance?”

Jungkook stared blankly. “Uh, well…”

Jimin shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. “If you don’t get it, Jungkook, you can just tell me,” he said. “Honestly, don’t be afraid, despite what you’ve heard about me.”

Jungkook’s attention was suddenly caught. “Hmm? What? What have I heard about you?”

Jimin smiled. He added an unexpected shrug before saying, “Well I don’t know, Jungkook. Last I heard someone thought I was a ‘nerd lord’, didn’t he?”

Jungkook froze. I’m gonna kill that lanky asshole, he thought ominously, as the mental image of Kim Taehyung’s best trolling face floated into his mind.

He laughed nervously, scratching the nape of his neck as he spoke next. “Well, that was like…before I knew you. And stuff.”

“Really?” Jimin asked, leaning forwards slightly. “Well…what’s changed since then?”

Jungkook felt like he’d been pushed into a corner, not sure how to answer this. Especially when Park Jimin was looking at him so expectantly, with a slight curve on his lips like that.

“Um....you’re…you’re actually a good teacher?” Jungkook said stiffly, trying to say anything but the things that were a bit more easily retrievable within his conscious mind.

“Oh,” Jimin pursed his lips, barely looking disappointed. He sank back into his seat, flipping quickly through his notes as Jungkook was left alone to contemplate what he had done wrong.

“Why don’t you try this problem for me?” Jimin said, pushing the notebook towards Jungkook. Jungkook took the pages hesitantly, and wondered if he was only imagining that Jimin’s tone had become slightly colder than before.

Deciding to ignore his qualms, Jungkook grabbed his pencil and kept his head down and focussed in determination. Regardless of how it would turn out with Jimin, he should probably focus on the real reason why he was there in the first place.

But much to his dismay, he found that the distractions had been too much, as always. He kept writing and erasing, scratching out answers and replacing it with others. Before long, his page was a mess, and he wasn’t any closer to the answer.

He gritted his teeth, erasing yet another line. C’mon Jungkook, focus. If you want him to not be discouraged of teaching you, you gotta try harder.

But it seemed hopeless. The overcrowded page seemed to mock him with ridicule, questioning why he was starting to confuse his variables and miswrite his numbers. It was starting to give him a headache just to look at.

He heard Jimin shuffle from across him. Oh no, he’s leaving. Crap. Why do I have to be so stupid? His eyebrows scrunched in annoyance as wrote down something that seemed to be right, but he had already seen before.

“Need help?” Jimin’s voice asked suddenly, right next to him.

Jungkook finally let out the sigh of frustration he had been holding in for so long. He turned towards the direction of Jimin’s voice.

“Yes! I’m sorry I—”

Jungkook stopped midsentence as he found that Jimin’s face was right in front of him, as Jimin was bent over his shoulder and looking intently at the problem in front of them. He leaned back slightly in an instant, though it was still close enough for him to realize how smooth and soft-looking Jimin’s poufy cheeks were.

“You’re actually on the right track, Jungkook,” said Jimin, as he gazed knowingly at Jungkook’s messy work. “Besides…”

Much to the dismay of Jungkook’s poor, soft and fragile heart, Park Jimin had to turn at that very moment so that their eyes and lips were less than centimetres away from each other.

“I’ve never seen you try that hard before…” Jimin said. It was as if his voice was coated with sugar.

Jungkook visibly gulped, not even bothering trying to hide it. He tried to lean back some more but there was no room left to go.

“You were really cute,” Jimin murmured as his smile widened. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Ba-dump.

It was a miracle Jeon Jungkook didn’t faint right there and then.

end of part 1!

part 2 coming soon on tumblr OR read the full story on AO3 ^^

A/N: ...yeah. Part of me hates myself for doing this can you tell? XD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it at least a little~ and saw a new perspective on math through this :3

Anyways, I neglected my midterm to squeeze this out in time for VDay so I hope it made you smile, somewhere, somehow :D

#jikook #so many bad math jokes #and bad jokes period #jimin #jungkook #bts #regrets?#yeah all of them tbh #fanfic #vday fic

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