#claudio at least thought he had real evidence
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transsexualcoriolanus · 1 year ago
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"kill claudio" this, "kill claudio" that. kill leonato. he believed a guy who he'd known for like a week over his literal daughter, joined him in publicly accusing and humiliating her, told her he wished she had never been born, then had the fucking audacity to tell claudio how awful he was for 'killing' hero, when he not only let him do it but encouraged and joined in with him
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joonsdiary · 5 years ago
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jamais vu (m)
↳ noun | the illusion that the familiar is being encountered for the first time.
                                                                                            (are you the remedy to my broken heart?)
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pairing: jungkook | reader | taehyung genre: slice of life au, acquaintances to friends (to lovers?) au // heaps of angst, a tiny bit of smut, a sprinkle of fluff word count: 13,4k
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— warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, hints of gaslighting, mild descriptions of a panic attack, themes of infidelity, sexual intercourse (protected penetrative sex, implied female masturbation) 
— note: mildly inspired by the films lost in translation and ocean waves, as well as jamais vu by bts (hence the title). some concepts were derived from my wip list, so in a way this was my remedy for the writer’s block i was having while writing ‘worth fighting for’. i hope in one way or another it can be your remedy, too. (p.s. despite being inspired by lost in translation, i haven’t actually seen the film so this won’t be exactly like that adkjhsd)
— playlist: carry me home - jorja smith ft. maverick sabre / sweet insomnia - gallant ft. 6lack / drew barrymore - sza / run - joji / truth is - sabrina claudio / bath - offonoff / ghostin - ariana grande / ... etc!
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     There’s something thrilling about sitting in the backseat of a car past midnight, windows rolled down as the driver chases the destination planted on her navigation device. You welcome the cool breeze that tangles your hair into an uncomfortable mess, as it only helps propel your heart rate faster. Inhaling slowly allows you to savour the musky scent of the earth shortly after being bathed with rainwater; if this is what freedom tastes like, you wish to savour as much of it as you could.
Eventually, the exhilaration wears down as the city lights blur into a cacophony of colours. It’s incoherent and indiscernible, yet it possesses the ability to lull you into a dream-like state. You had the utmost privilege of plugging your phone into the aux cord, therefore the familiar voice of your recently played songstress croons softly against the speaker, filling the cold, void spaces in between. Your heavy eyelids fall into an accustomed pattern, gradually flickering until it closes shut.
Sleep beckons; fatigue welcomes you into the abyss, and you embrace it with open arms.
Well, almost.
“Can you roll the windows up? It’s freezing,” he mumbles as he sinks further down the leather chair. You jolt awake at his sudden announcement, but he doesn’t apologize for disturbing your calmness.
“Hm? Yeah, of course,” your fingers scramble to find the right button to press until the tempered glass lifts, shielding you away from the busy city. You want to argue that it’s not even that cold, but he scoots closer towards you, tugging on your left arm before burying his head in the crook of your neck.
A wistful sigh escapes your lips and you turn to place a quick kiss on his crown. You immediately understand the exhaustion that plagues you both, brought about by the time difference between the country you came from and the one you’re currently visiting. You glance out the window once more as your thumb plays with the golden band on your ring finger.
Seoul is beautiful. The city itself is alive, evident by the way the summer stars in the night sky are dimmed by the light that emits from the numerous buildings and towers that create Seoul’s skyline. Looking at it from above while on a plane is similar to peeking at a telescope to view a galaxy far away, dotted by billions of brilliant stars. But despite the breathtaking aerial view, nothing feels more intimate than weaving through its streets.
Although you can tell its old roads are recently refurbished, unsurprisingly, which buries any inkling of familiarity beneath the cold cement. Despite you knowing the place, there’s still something different about it, like buying a new laptop to replace the old one. The specs are guaranteed to be exactly like its predecessor, but the fact that it comes in a sleek box, still unspoiled and untouched, fascinates you all the same. It begs to be used until you’re so attached to it that you refuse to part ways even just for a singular moment. That’s what defines Seoul for you.
But the city can wait. There will be plenty of opportunities to explore and rekindle your love affair with the town you once called your home. For now, your reason for being lays cradled within your arms, encapsulated within the bubble you desperately wish would stay intact, unmarred by the destructive forces of reality.
Although those illusions of fantasy can only take you so far. The fragility of your relationship is beginning to materialize into a spectre, its gaunt face haunting you in every corner you look. There’s no escaping the truth as it will, without a fail, catch you in one form or the other.
“What are you thinking about?” he hums lazily, soft breath tickling the nape of your neck.
“Just excited to finally be back after so long.”
“That’s right, you moved away long before I did.”
“Mhm.”
The discussion flickers out of existence, whose life is shorter than that of a fire in measly matchstick. You aren’t much of a conversationalist, and you appreciate that neither is he. Is that the defining trait that convinced you to marry the man sitting next to you three years ago? Perhaps. You like that he gives you the time and space to bask in your thoughts when you need it, even if there are moments where you’d like nothing more than to connect with him like you used to.
“I miss you,” slips out before you’re able to hold your tongue back. But you don’t scramble to reclaim the words like you usually do, followed by an apologetic I didn’t mean it like that. You let the phrase simmer, hoping it will soak him to the bones enough that it becomes his wake up call.
But, “I’m right here,” is all he says.
The him-of-past would have cradled your face in his big hands, turned you so that you’re face to face before he makes a silly face that will make you laugh. He’ll say you’re being silly for even thinking of such thoughts when he’s always been by your side, and forever will be. It will follow one chaste kiss, then a second, and before you could blink his limbs will tangle with yours, hearts beating fast but in unison, nonetheless.
“I know,” you murmur.
Perhaps he believes it’s enough that he’s there beside you, physically. Perhaps it’s wise to presume the same. It’s only wishful thinking to expect otherwise, after all.
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    Jungkook believes he’s a creature of habit. Or, he used to be, at least.
There’s absolutely nothing wrong with falling into a certain pattern in life, especially at his age; God knows he needs a stable rock to hold on to so he doesn’t get carried away by the raging currents of the river.
But it had only been once upon a time where he enjoyed such endeavours; waking up, coming down to work, going back up to bathe, before finally retiring to bed. Yes, he’ll find pockets of time to eat meals, of course. Days come when he has the freedom to choose to go to the gym, instead, so his life isn’t completely mundane. There’s a nuance to such life, and he always aspires to have the propensity and the undeterred tenacity to stick to such a strict regimen.
However, days began to bleed into each other with the same shade of grey, indiscernible and incomprehensible. It’s not necessarily a lousy experience because he never felt starved or threatened out of his home. Life for him is like cruising down the endless highway, foot off the gas but going at one hundred kilometres per hour all the same. The figures he passes by become obscured by the speed he’s going at, but at the very least he’s still heading somewhere.
It’s only recently he’s fully realized the futility of his mundane schedule. She’d told him so.
“Don’t you want to break away from all of that? From your parents’ expectations of you?” her voice comes softly through the phone. His moments together with her are often brief and hurried, their conversations cut short by external forces acting upon them both. It’s dinnertime for him, but she has to drop the call in order to catch the early bus for work. Such a prick, time and distance can be.
(Perhaps, he now looks back and thinks to himself, they’re merely trying to find more reason to converse less with each other. Since when did it start, the feeling of obligation?)
“Are you suggesting that I—”
She says yes without letting him finish his sentence.
So he finds vigour in his life once more as he throws himself into his work, constantly propelled forwards by the need to meet an end goal: Save up enough to be able to move halfway across the world. To see her. To be with her.
But the respite is brief, however.
The more money is stored in his bank account, the less he thinks of the idea as brilliant. Is he ready to uproot his life from the only home he knows to move in with somebody he has only met through the screen of his phone?
Looking at the bigger picture, nothing else has changed in his life. He needs a true break; a real step back from a routine that is numerous years in the making.
Having sex with a stranger in a random motel seems like a good way to go about it, he thinks.
Several hours prior, his friends asked him to go out drinking with them. Jungkook, who rarely makes time for such occurrences, naturally agrees, surprising the very same acquaintances that invited him. At that point he believes they’re only asking to be polite, not having the courage to kick him out of an old group chat formed during their college days. They never expected him to say yes then, and they didn’t until now.
Countless bottles of beer and a few shots of liquor later, he’s fumbling with the zipper of his tight jeans. The woman, whose name he didn’t have the courtesy of asking, giggles as she rises from the bed to approach him.
Mistake number one.
“Do you need help, love?”
He fumbles through his words, unable to form a coherent thought. It’s not that he’s completely inexperienced — although the woman probably thinks he is by the way he acts — it’s just that, admittedly, it’s been a good while since he’d had sex with anybody. Add the nervousness to his inebriated state, and he’s got himself in quite the dilemma.
Mistake number two.
“I’m guessing you like them tight,” the woman points out.
“Huh?” his head whips towards the woman, eyes wide and mouth agape, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Your jeans, I mean.”
The woman chuckles once again as he attempts to peel the fabric off his skin. “Wasn’t really planning on this, that’s why.”
Mistake number three.
“But you have this,” an inconspicuous packet is pulled from his back pocket. Jungkook merely grins sheepishly in response. The woman kneels as she grips his underwear but he grabs her hand and pulls her up instead, crashing her body into his. He recalls her murmuring something about getting straight to the point, but he’s unsure if the woman meant it as a complaint or a compliment. He didn’t bother asking to elaborate, because none of this is even supposed to happen.
Mistake number four.
Guilt bubbles from within his chest, gnawing at every nook and cranny of his consciousness.
Mistake number five.
He’d have to tell her sooner rather than later. It would be fucking shitty of him not to. But before he has the time to steer clear of trouble and save himself from potentially ruining the only good thing he has going in his life, the woman’s lips are on him. There’s no going back now, he assumes.
Mistake number six, seven, eight.
Nine: His kiss feels famished as he drinks in each quiet moan that comes out of the woman’s lips. Every second feels reinvigorating like he’s sitting in front of the roller coaster as the ride pauses before the first drop. When the wheels turn and roll against the metal railroad track, he stumbles back and falls into the bed. He’s here for the thrill, which would bring the total up to ten so far.
Eleven is when he watches the woman slip the condom with ease, sheathing him. His presumed experience she possesses excites him further; that is number twelve.
He loses count when she traps him between her knees as she licks two of her fingers at once, before hiking up her skirt.
Jungkook wants to laugh at his lack of perceptiveness. Tactless when it comes to asking for the woman’s name; even more inadequate and impolite not to think about prepping her.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, head tilting to the side as wisps of her hair fall across her face as she grinds herself against him. He bites back a moan as he looks away from her. It probably would be best not to tell her. He then catches his reflection in the mirror, and despite the dimmed lights he could outline the expression he’s making; a reflection of someone unrecognizable.
“There’s a mirror,” he pauses as she gets a hold of him, her warmth enveloping him as she slowly sinks onto him. His hips jerk seemingly involuntarily in response, and she groans, tossing her head backwards. He forgets to speak altogether. The woman does the same, opting to mumble profanity, instead.
Jungkook wishes to hide the shame and guilt, the wrongfulness, the missed opportunities to say no. Is his need to feel something other than the heaviness of his heart worth all the pain he’s about to put not only himself but the person he wishes to spend the rest of his life with?
And so he buries himself deeper before denial could even stake a claim in the vast expanse of his thoughts. If to forget is to lose himself in the pleasure of someone else’s company, then he’ll desperately seek the ecstasy he’s craved for so long until he’ll see stars beneath the darkness of his eyelids.
His breathing is no longer erratic when he comes into consciousness.
“That was good,” she breathes out softly, and he turns in time to watch her brown eyes disappear from view.
“I have to go.”
He gets up from the bed and begins to move on autopilot, picking up his discarded clothes one by one. The woman immediately sits up and asks with an evident frown on her face, “Already? Didn’t you have fun?”
The corners of his lips are pulled upwards into a grin. “It’s for work.”
“At this hour? It’s almost one.”
“Midnight shift.”
When he’s dressed, he hesitates at the foot of the bed, shifting weight from one leg to the other. He’s never been the best with words, and his unexpectedly expected tryst with a stranger leaves him at a loss for what to say. It doesn’t help that the woman refuses to meet gaze with him.
I wouldn’t want to look at me either, he thinks bitterly to himself.
“Thank you for your time. I hope to see you around,” his half-truth is enough to pluck a rueful smile from her lips.
The bus ride back home is the longest one Jungkook thinks he’s taken ever since he moved to Seoul.
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    You watch as Taehyung lazily drags his feet behind him each step he takes towards the bed and breakfast place you decided to rent. The cicadas chatter loudly as if to cheer him on. A few more steps, they urge.
“Come on, Taehyung,” you groan from above the stairs, already reaching the top long before he does. “I’m about to pass out, too. But can we do it once we get to the bed?”
“I’m literally, like, dead,” you can’t help the roll of your eyes at his dramatic statement. But you hold your tongue back at any other snide comments that might offend him further. Patience is the key with him, always. Complaining to him, as you did earlier, will only force him to act against your wishes.
He reaches the top with a huff and a hand on his bent knees, handing you the duffel bag that’s filled to the brim with your clothes and his.
“That wasn’t so bad, right?” is your attempt at making the situation lighthearted and less serious than it needs to be.
“Still should have booked a hotel, instead,” his nose scrunches in obvious dismay.
“For the last time, I thought—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” gone is the Taehyung of previous, whose tiredness begins with softness around his personality. It’s not unusual for him to get cranky after being jet-lagged. But hey, guess what, so are you!
You ignore him for fear of escalation as you make your way inside. A quiet chime of the bell signals your arrival, and your gaze meets a familiar set of doe eyes; someone you knew once upon a time in a place you can pinpoint exactly. His expression mirrors that of your surprised one as he tries to figure you out. It wouldn’t surprise you if he doesn’t recognize you as you did him.
It’s Taehyung who breaks your state of bewitchment when his shoulder bumps into your arms as he jogs towards the receiving desk.
“Hey, stranger! How long has it been?” Taehyung exclaims a little too loudly, his state of disarray seemingly vanishing in a flash. With the roll of your luggage as a guide, you follow after him, standing nimbly behind the shadow of his confidence.
“Since we graduated high school? Probably ten years,” he says humorously.
“That long, huh? Damn.”
They fall into a small talk which is somewhat out of sync, which is understandable considering the amount of time they haven't been in contact with each other. No matter how close they had been during their teenage years, some words are hard to come by more than others.
He suddenly calls your name out in a greeting, and you peak over Taehyung’s shoulder with a small wave of your hand. “Hey, Jungkook.”
His smile is gentle, and your mood shifts entirely.
“Are you back here on a trip?”
It’s clear the question was directed to you, but Taehyung absolves you the courtesy of answering. “Actually, it’s a work-related thing. She wanted to tag along.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” you say with a strained chuckle, and Jungkook glances between you and Taehyung.
“Ah, I see. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair,” he slides a pair of keys in your direction. “It’s well past midnight, so I’m sure you guys are tired from your flight.”
Taehyung snatches it up, and it falls into the pocket of his slacks with a soft jingle. He thanks him with enthusiasm before turning towards the direction of the elevator.
“Hope I see you around. Have good night.”
Something about your greeting has Jungkook’s eyebrows creasing in discomfort for a split second before he gives you a small nod. “I’ll be here if you need anything else.”
But he isn’t there to greet patrons by the next morning when you go down for your complimentary breakfast. Taehyung did not join you, opting for an extended hour of sleep. You didn’t mind, but you couldn’t lay aimless in bed for too long; you’ve always been a morning person, after all.
So you sit by your lonesome in the vast dining area, surrounded by an old couple in one corner and a young family of four in the other. The two children fight for the last remaining pancake while the parents share a hushed discussion. You glance down at your warm abalone porridge.
There was a time when you imagined such a life with Taehyung—a family you can call your own. Of course, it’s by no means too late for you; at the tender age of twenty-eight, you know that life still has a lot to offer. But approaching three years into your marriage, Taehyung does not present any hints of wanting such a future with you. Sure, the topic has been brought about occasionally, but never serious enough to be considered anything but a passing daydream.
“I hate to break it to you, but that soup isn’t going to give you the answers to your most pressing question, even if you stare at it like that.”
You look up to see Jungkook wearing an amused expression, carrying a plastic bag on his right hand. He follows your trail of gaze and lifts the item into view.
“I might have raided the kitchen before my shift is over. Don’t tell a single soul,” his gaze holds differently, but the smile he wears is the same one from his youth.
“Cross my heart,” you humour him, and his grin grows wider. “Have a safe trip home.”
His nose wrinkles in contemplation. “If you mean be careful going up the stairs to my room, then sure, I will.”
Your brows lift in confusion, “You rent here?”
“You could say that. I own this place,” the chair scrapes against the tiled floors as he welcomes himself into your bubble. “Well, sort of. My parents own this, but my older brother and I manage it.”
“You should have said so earlier!” you chuckle, placing your chin on your palm as you turn to face him. “I would have asked for a discount.”
“Ouch, this is exactly why I didn’t do that in the first place. It’s opportunists like you that I’m terrified of.”
“Okay, Richie Rich, I knew you were always a selfish prick even then.”
“Hah!” he exclaims, leaning closer. “I’m well aware of my reputation back then, and none of them was ‘selfish’. In fact, there was always a lot of me to go around.”
“I highly doubt that, somehow.”
“You wouldn’t know,” he says in a casual tone while crossing his arms in front of his chest. He gives you a knowing look. “You were always with Taehyung.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” you mumble against your palm, your voice growing quiet. Your ring suddenly feels heavy on your finger.
“Mhm, that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard you two got married a few years back. In another country, no less. Congratulations, by the way,” his tone softens, mirroring your sudden predisposition for a hushed conversation.
“Thank you,” you give him a genuine smile. “Married life is
”
“Different?” he offers, and you nod wordlessly. You would’ve chosen a different word for it, but you’re glad he finished the sentence for you. “All my other friends who’re in the same situation say so.”
“And you?”
He wears the same troubled expression from hours ago, but only for a brief moment. He mimics your posture as his face lights up with the biggest smile you’ve seen him wear. You know that expression; there was a point in time where you’d wear the same elated look when someone asks you about Taehyung.
“Long-distance. But we’ve been together for a couple of years,” he hesitates briefly, before continuing. “I’m leaving in less than two weeks to move in with her.”
“Where to?”
He reveals the name in a hushed tone, almost as if it’s meant to stay a secret between the two of you.
Your eyes widen with bewilderment, and he grins sheepishly. “Wow, that’s—”
“Halfway across the world? I know.”
It’s only when there’s a pause that you realize what your intended purpose is. So you dig a spoonful of the soup and chase the heat away with a quick blow before taking a quick bite.
“You’re really here just to tag along with Taehyung?”
You look at him in surprise, not expecting the subject to be brought out once again. “Not really. We um
”
You hesitate, unsure whether to share your thoughts or not. But Jungkook is neither a friend nor a stranger and is possibly the perfect candidate. There’s nothing that binds you to him and in a few weeks, you’d be back to being strangers. Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember your story.
“We didn’t really have an official honeymoon after our marriage, and this was supposed to be it,” you chuckle, trying to play the situation off nonchalantly. “He sort of double-booked because he couldn’t turn down this gig.”
“That seems shitty, to be honest.”
You’re taken aback by the ruggedness of his tone, and you immediately jump to defend Taehyung. “It’s fine, honestly. It’s been a while since I’ve been back home.”
“Yeah, you missed out on our high school reunion just by a month,” his aura is lighthearted once more, and you’re glad for it.
“You went?”
“Nah, there was nothing good to reminisce about high school.”
You turn to him with your mouth agape. “This is coming from the captain of the football team, Jeon Jungkook?”
“Ah, come on, stop with the teasing,” he says as he rolls his shoulder back, before clearing his throat. “It just so happened that I was good at kicking. And running. And scoring goals.”
Undeterred by his boasting, you give him a sly smirk. “I’m sure you revelled in the attention. There was enough of you to get around, you said?”
“Now you get it.”
You giggle and he laughs along with you. The interaction gives you a certain heaviness within your chest but at the same time, you feel lightheaded, almost as if you’re about to soar towards the heavens.
“I should go catch some sleep,” he says once your euphoria dies down. “I’ve had a long evening.”
“I’ll let you get to it, then,” you say almost wistfully. He mumbles a quiet later! and you allow your gaze to follow his movement.
“Don’t get lost on your way.”
He looks back and motions a mock salute. “I’ll come knocking on your door if I need help with directions.”
However, three days go by without seeing Jungkook; not in his usual spot at the entrance of the building, and nowhere near the kitchen or the lounge area. Although you weren’t looking for him by any means because Taehyung constantly kept you busy, dragging you from place to place to take cityscape photos for his client. Despite the constant travelling, it’s hard to enjoy the scenery when the affair appears to be completely one-sided.
There’s no mistaking the fact you’re extremely proud and gratified that Taehyung pours his heart and soul into each project he throws himself at. But would it hurt that much for him to point his lenses towards your direction even just once? Surely, your whole trip will not consist of you constantly waiting on him.
He must’ve noticed your affliction because suddenly the weight of his stare begins to feel heavier each quiet second that passes.
“Bored yet?” he asks, left hand on the wheel and the other placed on the knob to change the car’s gear. Your eyes flit back to him and his right palm opens for you to take. With your fingers interlocked, he places a soft kiss on your knuckles.
It’s difficult to harbour resentment towards him when he makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter with merely the tiniest of gestures.
“With you? Never.”
He chuckles, and you feel the rumbling of his chest as he presses the back of your hand against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat doesn’t match your erratic, nervous one.
“Hm, you should have said yes. I was going to save you of having to come with me later,” his tone is playful, and a small smile adorns his flushed lips.
“What’s happening later?” you shift in the passenger seat to face him.
“The dinner with Min, my client. I told you, remember?”
You carefully sift through your mind regarding your recent conversations with him. You recall them being short and clipped, sure, but none told you of a certain meeting with somebody else. So, you tell him in earnest, “No.”
“I’m sure you’re just forgetting,” his grip on you loosens, and you reclaim your hand before it falls on his lap.
No, you’re one-hundred-percent certain you would remember something as important as that. Yet you don’t tell him so and instead, you yield with a wordless nod.
“You mean to tell me you’re going to miss out on having takeout dinner with me?” you ask, attempting to humour him, but your tone mistakenly comes out tasting bitter on your tongue. The silence that ensues sears into your brain like the afternoon Seoul sun, prickly and scorching hot to the touch.
“You can come with, if that’s what you want. I’ll tell you in advance that it’s going to be boring, though, since we’re going to talk about work.”
Somewhere along the line, you presume Taehyung has developed the proclivity towards telling pretence with a straight face. It catches you off guard when you join him for the much-anticipated dinner that he apparently told you about. It’s not the fact that “Min” turns out to be a woman — you have no qualms about that. Taehyung is somebody who could make acquaintances with somebody while waiting in line for their prescription in a pharmacy. Rather, it’s the way he prepped you for the oncoming conversation or your lack of inclusion in any of them, for that matter.
Introductions aside, you found her to be amicable and friendly. But afterwards, you fell behind two steps as they divulged into a topic other than work. Despite the premise that the chat would be boring, Taehyung is deeply engrossed in whichever story she decided to share. You didn’t have quite the energy to match theirs, so instead of playing catch up, you decided to stop walking altogether. You watch as their figures grow smaller on the horizon, not even bothering to look back and ask if you’d like to join them.
She laughs at something Taehyung says and automatically reaches to grab his arm as she giggles along with him. When she makes eye contact with you, instinct tells you to force a smile. And you did, uncaring if she perceives your gesture to be nothing but utter bullshit.
You busy yourself with studying the restaurant instead as you pensively wait for food to be served. The dim lights of the room create a warm ambience — romantic, almost.
The gears in your brain stop turning as they click into place. Your pulse gums with vigour as you feel the sweat seeping through the pores of your palms. Suddenly, the vast expanse of the dining hall feels suffocating; there’s no room for you. To breathe, to feel, to be.
“I’ve got to go.”
You suddenly feel lightheaded as you begin seeing multiples of dark spots, clouding your vision. The floor caving beneath you, and you struggle to keep afloat.
“What?” Taehyung looks at you with wide eyes but makes no move to hold you back from gathering your things.
“I forgot I was supposed to meet a friend today,” you say with self-assurance, miming the same expression he wore when he lied: I told you, remember?
Taehyung stands when you move away from the table and hope blooms dangerously in your chest; your wish for him to hold you back and stop you from leaving begins to permeate.
(Though in hindsight, you should have known better.)
“I’ll call a cab for you.”
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    Static fills the void, and for the first time in his life, Jungkook fears the silence rather than basking in it. He’s unsure when his words began to fail him; is it because he’s nervous he’ll slip up and say the wrong thing? Truly, at this point, being seen as the bad guy should be the least of his concerns.
Because as far as any human with a functioning brain thinks, he’s already fucked up in more ways than one. There’s no returning from the level of hell he’s put himself in.
“Are you still there?”
Her voice is patient, but he can tell she’s apprehensive.
“Uh, yes—just, thinking.”
There’s a brief pause before an accusatory, “Look, if you’re having second thoughts then maybe it’s too early.”
He immediately leaps from the couch of the empty lounge area. It’s a little past eleven at night, so everyone is either already in their rooms or out enjoying the city, which gives Jungkook a leg room for privacy.
“What? No, that’s not it!”
Two years isn’t too damn early. He feels like he’s been waiting a lifetime; tired of the time difference, tired of the distance, tired of being deprived of touch. Tired of the same old city, with the same predictable people. Everything around him is starting to feel foreign; the steps that lead to the bed and breakfast lodging, the corner street that sells the best tteokbokki he’s ever tasted in his life, the crosswalk that has malfunctioning lights which should be a public safety hazard but at this point he thinks will never be fixed. It’s all mundane, cycling through the same wheel of routine.
He no longer wants to feel apathetic when he faces his future while he houses resentment on his present self milling around aimlessly. She’s his only ticket to escape, so he better stop fucking around and tell her the truth.
But where to begin?
“Listen, I—”
“Whatever it is, can you please just say it? I’m leaving for work soon.”
He takes two steps back, for fear of retribution. Is he ready to ruin the entirety of her day?
“Never mind. I’ll talk to you later. Have a great day at work.”
She heaves a sigh, and preemptively ends the call.
“I suppose I deserve that,” he mumbles as he stares at his phone with her name printed in big letters across the screen. He contemplates pressing the call button and finally telling her everything—her work be damned. He knows that he owes her the truth at the very least.
But you come barrelling down the door, barefoot as you clutch your heels safely between your armpit. You’re dressed formally, yet casual enough for a nice dinner outside plenty of Seoul’s restaurants. But the slight stutter in your step and your somewhat dishevelled hair tells Jungkook all he needs to know. He doesn’t have to hazard a guess.
“Jungkook!” you raise your arms as you exclaim, and the wooden floor welcomes your shoes with a loud thud. “It’s been so long. What are you doing here?”
He laughs, not because of your deeply inebriated state, but because of your inquiry. What the hell am I doing here? He’s been asking himself that very same question without an answer in sight for a while now.
Though he doesn’t have time to answer because you almost knock him over when you skid over to wrap your arms around his neck. His senses are overwhelmed with the pungent smell of liquor, mixed with a subtle hint of rose water.
“I miss you.”
Jungkook is perplexed by your brutal honesty, to say the least. Though he knows to excuse any action while somebody is foolishly drunk, so long as they are not harming anybody or themselves. You grow quiet, and Jungkook is about to ask where you’ve been when he feels dampness on the front of his button-up shirt. He looks down and sees you visibly shaking, before grabbing at his sleeves seemingly for physical support.
It’s when you ask, with conviction, “Why did you hold me back?” that he realizes you aren’t referring to him. So, he wordlessly wraps his arms around you as he pats your back reassuringly. He doesn’t mind that you began sobbing louder, not even when a guest comes through the door and gives him a perplexed expression. He simply nods in their direction as a form of acknowledgement before giving a tight-lipped smile.
When minutes pass and Taehyung doesn’t arrive, he puts two and two together and concludes that he had to be the reason. His heart squeezes painfully as you attempt to swallow a sob which ends up sounding more agonizing and hollowed, carrying with them the weight of all the sorrow you’ve seemingly piled up.
When your cries are reduced to soft hiccups, you pull away from him with a quiet apology. Jungkook shakes his head as he places his palms delicately against your face before wiping the remnants of your sorrow away from your cheeks.
“Better?”
“No,” you sniffle. “I feel like shit.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I wanna go out again. Will you come with me?” you look up at him, bleary eyes pleading. Jungkook dips his chin as he guides you to sit on the leather couch, which you thankfully follow.
“At this rate, you’re going to pass out before we step foot outside the building.” With a sigh, he crouches down to reach eye level with you. “Do you need to puke?”
“I already did that after getting off the cab earlier, I think.”
“Okay then, wait here.”
You nod wordlessly and he goes to pick up your discarded shoes before placing it near your naked feet. He unlocks his phone as he makes his way to the dining hall, dialling a familiar number.
“Jaehyun?” he asks after the third ring. “Can you come earlier for your shift? Something came up.”
When he’s sure someone is going to take over for him, he makes his round in the empty kitchen, grabbing whatever he thinks might be immediately necessary: clean towels, an empty bucket in case of an emergency, and a glass of water.
You’re placid when he returns, eyes puffed out and red as you stare at nothing in particular. He hands you the water and you immediately finish it before he can blink.
You mumble a quick apology as he exchanges the empty glass for the clean towel.
“Don’t worry about it. This will all be billed towards room service.”
You chuckle and throw him back the towel which lands squarely on his face.
“Not funny.”
“I’m dead serious. Look at this damage on my shirt!” he points at the makeup smear accusingly, causing an escalation in your laughter. But the tears return, and you wordlessly wipe them with your palms.
“Come,” he offers his hand for you to take. “You have to eat.”
You stare wordlessly at it for a while, before taking it and pulling yourself to stand. You’re wobbly on your feet, and Jungkook tightens his grip on your hand in an attempt to steady you.
“I can’t go out like this,” you mumble. Jungkook nods in agreement as he wears a playful grin. You nudge his side, brows furrowed and lips forming into a pout. “I know I look like a mess. No need to rub it in.”
“I never said anything,” he chuckles. “Weren’t you the one asking to go out again?”
“I still do. But don’t worry,” you pat the back of his hand reassuringly. “You don’t have to come with.”
“I haven’t noticed Taehyung pass through yet, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jungkook watches your expression morph back into a blank stare. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything, after all. His mind scrambles to quickly divulge the topic. “Where do you want to go? I already called my replacement at the front desk—”
“I know this is a bed and breakfast and not a hotel, but you guys have liquor, right?”
You’ve somehow convinced Jungkook to siphon a bottle of whiskey and a few cans of beer from the lodging’s inventory. Though he can quite happily admit that it didn’t take much to get him on board. But he technically can’t be seen drinking and lounging on the job for morale’s sake, so he sneaks in some food along with the alcohol — and you — back to his room. Although Jaehyun did catch you and Jungkook on the way up.
(He promises a wage increase if Jaehyun doesn’t say anything to Jungkook’s older brother. You didn’t have to but since you offered, I’ll take it, the latter said.)
“Apologies for the mess,” he mutters, holding the door with his foot as he welcomes you. He turns on the lamp instead of the main lights since they’re less obtrusive to the eye.
“Are you kidding?” you stumble in, trying not to drop the cans of beer you’re holding. “This place is practically spotless. You have bodies in your closet, don’t you?”
Jungkook laughs as he makes a beeline for the makeshift table sitting between his pseudo-living-room-slash-bedroom and kitchen—
“Wait, you have a kitchen?”
Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re perplexed or amazed. He shrugs nonchalantly either way.
“Perks of being part-owner, I guess?”
He haphazardly throws a blanket and a pillow near the table for you to sit in, but apparently, you have other plans and proceed to make a home for yourself in his bed. You bury your head in the sheets, mumbling, “It smells good.”
“I change the sheets every month,” he boasts rather proudly; all part of his routine.
“I should definitely check that closet.”
“By all means,” he grins, plopping down in front of the table. He’s yet to have dinner, so his intentions to get food and beer had been partly selfish. Jungkook turns to you, now laying on your side, sullen eyes already studying him. He quickly looks away and grabs a spoon before holding it up.
“Food? You’re probably hungry, right? I know I’m always craving, especially after a good cry. Not that I cry often, but doing so from time to time doesn’t hurt either, I suppose. I hope that doesn’t sound too weird—I know there’s this stigma around men and crying but honestly, it’s all such bullshit. We are born into the world crying, it’s literally the first thing we do as humans. Anyway, do you fancy some beef and white rice? I know it’s not much, but...what are you laughing for?”
Jungkook watches you descend into hysteria, clutching your stomach as your giggles turn silent, but your shoulders are still visibly shaking. You heave for air, turning over so your back is face to him.
“If I knew I was this funny, I would have switched careers,” he mumbles, though loud enough for you to hear, as he stuffs his face with rice.
“It’s not too late,” you reply with a sniffle. “You can still change your mind.”
“That’s true, I suppose. Don’t they have that saying that goes ‘a fickle heart is the only constant in this world’ or something?”
Your head whips back towards him, swollen eyes wide in astonishment. “Did you just quote Howl’s Moving Castle?”
His nose scrunches up in deep thought. “Maybe? I did watch it recently.”
“You’re an odd one, Jeon Jungkook,” you muse quietly, eyes mimicking one of the phases of the moon as you grin.
“Says the person who’s soiling my fresh linen with her tears,” he says playfully. But there’s no reply this time around, and he quickly backtracks. “It’s okay to laugh at that one—it was a joke. A very terrible one, apparently.”
“No. You’re quite spot on, actually.”
Jungkook doesn’t speak for a while, unsure whether he should be overstepping the boundary more than he should have. But he looks at your vulnerable state, splayed across his bed, and thinks all formalities are out the window at this point. Despite the previous state of your relationship with him, or otherwise the lack of it, this would probably constitute friendship. Therefore, as a friend, it’s his moral duty to rid you of your throes and woes, even just a little.
“Where did you go, anyway? Must have been fun if you got all shit-faced like this.”
Keeping the tone airy is probably the best way to go as an introduction.
“Just a pub. I didn’t want to go clubbing by myself, it could have been dangerous.”
Jungkook’s forehead creases with worry, and he holds himself back from the question that he’s burning to ask: Then where the hell is Kim Taehyung? He reserves the right to be outright angry because he knows it’s not his place to. He reaches for the can of beer, which hisses in frustration when he opens it.
“You don’t have friends in the city?” he asks, hoping you will not take offence at his question. You shrug.
“I didn’t really keep in touch with anyone after moving away. It felt weird asking someone out of the blue.”
“You could have called me,” he says without much thought.
“I seriously considered it, but
” you trail off, leaving Jungkook to fill the void himself. He doesn’t mind that he probably didn’t cross your mind as a go-to person to call in times of crisis. “I heard you were quite the party pooper in high school, so I had my doubts.”
“Hey!” he protests, but you ignore him and continue. He doesn’t disagree, of course, but being called out is not a fun experience whether it came from a drunk acquaintance or not.
“New in town, straight-A student—but to be fair, quite good-looking and athletic to boot. My god, all my friends had a stupid on crush on you.”
Jungkook’s cheeks grow warm with embarrassment at the deluge of compliments. “Me? With gangly limbs and an awful bowl-cut? Who couldn’t even get a single word out to anybody, especially girls, without stuttering? That Jungkook?”
“You need to give yourself a little more credit than that, Jeon.” You’re facing him once again, both hands tucked neatly beneath your head.
He nods as an acknowledgement but swiftly changes the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? I’m halfway through this already.”
“I’m sure. I think I’ll probably just nap, then go,” you chuckle. Jungkook can only offer you a rueful smile. He doesn’t mind if you’re unwilling to share the whole spiel of what caused you to be miserable enough to drink by yourself. He’s quite well-versed in that area, after all. It doesn’t solve anything, sure, but it’s enough to numb the feeling of being alone with his thoughts. He doesn’t have to guess who the root of it is, though.
He sighs as he turns on the television, before lowering it down to a manageably quiet level where it will not disturb your sleep. He doesn’t have a particular show in mind to watch, but having the mindless static accompany him is more than enough.
“I lied,” you begin after several minutes of silence. “I can’t sleep.”
“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” he motions for you to move over as he walks closer to the bed. You follow his instruction, and he peels a layer of the bedsheet. Jungkook laughs as you scramble to get under it. “Better now?”
You didn’t answer but instead, lift your head from the sheets before nodding. He’s overcome with a sense of assurance when he sees your peaceful, content expression.
He hasn’t so much as turned his back on you when you call his name out once more.
“Jungkook.”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
“Just make sure you leave us a five-star rating.”
He grins just as you crack one eye open. “I’m serious.”  
“So am I. We need that public approval to keep running,” he watches the corner of your lips twitch in amusement as you settle back comfortably into the futon with a nod.
“Jungkook.”
“Yes?”
“Was I wrong? For feeling wanted, I mean.”
Your question catches him by surprise; suddenly the hardwood floor beneath him begins to feel cold against his feet. Instead of returning to his previous spot, he carefully sits on the edge of the bed as the springs creak from his weight. He pulls both his legs underneath him; he couldn’t quite face you, so he stares at the television, instead.
“I don’t think so. We all crave validation, more so from our partners than anybody else. I think it’s natural. Otherwise, it’s pointless.”
“Pointless,” you echo softly.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t work it out, though. Part of it is communicating your needs to each other.”
Hypocrite, Jungkook says to himself. It’s laughable, the level of bullshit he allows himself to bask in. What’s the point of giving someone else advice, when he can’t even get his shit together?
“You have to be truthful because the other person might not know what you want.”
“I know that,” your voice is shaky when you speak. Jungkook hedges his bet and assumes that you began crying once more; he didn’t need to look back to confirm. “I guess I’m just scared of facing the outcome of the confrontation when it does happen.”
“You don’t want to be abandoned when shit hits the fan,” he says more to himself than you.
“Exactly. I don’t even know when it began. One day I just woke up and,” you pause, and Jungkook hears you sniffle. “And everything felt so unfamiliar. The places—the people I thought I knew. It’s like I dissociated from my body, and I've just been on autopilot ever since.”
You pause, and Jungkook continues for you. “And you thought going along with the flow would fix things, but it feels even more jarring because you’ve lost that sense of familiarity.”
“Yeah, exactly. I thought coming here would somehow magically restore everything, but quite the opposite, actually. I guess running away from it doesn’t solve anything,” you chuckle bitterly. He slowly shifts on the bed to face you.
For the first time in a long time, Jungkook feels seen; like someone has found the lock to the door he threw away so long ago. Your words continuously play on a loop in his mind, forcing him to look at the actions he’s been taking. Certainly, he’s not racing away from himself by choosing to move to a different country despite his parents’ protest, is he? What about the fact that he chooses not to tell her, the supposed love of his life, about the fact that he’d felt so deprived that he couldn’t resist the temptation to have sex with someone else? And to top it all off, he doesn’t have the guts to tell her.
Jungkook knows he doesn't deserve the right to sit there and tell you what to do when he doesn’t dare to be honest in his relationship.
When you’ve cried your eyes dry and the evenness of your breathing signifies you’re fast asleep, Jungkook gently moves from his spot on the bed. He grabs the phone that has been idly on top of the table, before heading to the bathroom and closing the door shut. No matter the outcome of the conversation, she deserves the truth.
Jungkook inhales deeply and presses the call button.
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    You rise before daybreak, and at a glance, Jungkook is nowhere to be found. There’s a painful throb on the side of your head as you sit up, and you ignore it as you untangle yourself from the sheets. With the help of the lights from the television, you find him splayed across the couch not too far from where you stand. He’s still wearing the same clothes he had on a few hours ago, and guilt creeps up quicker than you anticipated it to.
You untuck the blanket you’ve used from his bed before walking towards him, careful not to disturb his slumber.
“I apologize for bothering you,” you mumble as you lay the blanket softly on top of him. You didn’t think to wake him before your departure; you already told him that you were set to leave after a short nap, anyway.
Hurriedly, you exit his room, forgetting that you’re completely barefoot. It’s fine, it’s just a few floors down, anyway.
The short elevator ride gives you little room to prepare for what you’re going to tell Taehyung. You glance at the phone you’ve been keeping on ‘do not disturb’ to find two missed calls from him a few hours prior. You just hope he’s already asleep by the time you get to your room.
You’re relieved when you enter and the lights are turned off. It feels juvenile to be sneaking around as you use your phone’s light to pick up a discarded shirt before stripping away your clothes and hurriedly putting it on.
Taehyung’s body is turned towards the wall as he hugs the pillow tightly against his body. Seeing him tranquil and at peace shifts your mood, as if all the frustration you feel dissipates within an instant. You slide under the covers, careful not to disturb him but he shifts at your presence anyway. He forgoes the pillow, snaking his arms around your waist instead as he inches closer.
“Where have you been?” he murmurs sleepily against your ear.
“Just...here.”
He doesn’t ask further and you don’t elaborate, thinking that he’s fallen back asleep. A part of you is glad for the unadulterated freedom he’s giving you. But there’s a sudden feeling of optimism; perhaps the sensation of loneliness will pass, and that you’re merely being dramatic (for the lack of better term). Once again you’re lulled into complacency. But it’s never a bad thing to just hope for the best, right?
But Taehyung is gone by noon when you finally have the decency to peel yourself off the bed. There’s a simple text from several hours ago that reads: Didn’t want to disturb you. Call me later.
You do exactly that, but it takes you straight to voicemail. Twice. Three times.
Dread settles in the pit of your stomach, but you try not to read into the situation too much.
“It’s fine, I wanted a day to go around by myself anyway,” you say out loud, uncaring if the walls are the only ones hearing you out. You fall back into the mattress, knowing the eagerness to get ready will not come unless there’s anybody to encourage.
But it seems like you didn’t have to wait for your saving grace for too long because your phone rings and you immediately roll over to reach for it.
Your heart sinks when you read the caller ID, but you grin and answer the call, anyway.
“Hey, Mom.”
She answers back cheerily, before divulging into her familiar list of questions; the usual how are you’s and the have you been eating well’s. When she finally inquires about Taehyung, you answer hesitantly.
“He’s out for work. You know how it is.”
She sighs and you wince, regretting your choice of tone. “Did you argue again?”
“No! That’s not it at all. I’m just—”
“Whatever it is, just be patient with him,” she admonishes. Your grip on the phone tightens. Right, because that very same rhetoric did nothing to salvage your marriage with Dad. It had been one of the reasons why you decided to move away after high school in the first place. Your mother managed to convince you to move in with her, stating that she wanted to make up for being absent most of your youth.
A different country. Foreign places to see, people to meet. The thrill of it all had been enough to convince you to depart the only place you knew your entire life. But part of the reason why you agreed had been because you were growing weary of living with your father’s new family. There was never a sense of belonging that tied you to Seoul despite spending all your life there.
Except for Taehyung.
He followed you five years later, like a fool in love. Then you decided to get married two years after rekindling your relationship. Three years since then, it feels like you’re floating in between two sides of the same coin with him, neither in bliss nor in terror.
“I know,” you chew your bottom lip. Fear is catching fire in your chest, and you smother it quickly so it will not disperse and reach your heart. “I’m trying.”
She switches the topic quicker than you can wipe the tears that manage to fall, and soon enough she’s complaining to you about having to come out for late lunch with her friends. Your answers are short and subdued, just enough to let her know that you’re still there, but your mind is itching to run somewhere else. Before she hangs up, you give her a gentle reminder to check on your apartment. She promises not to forget.
“Have fun, dear! Don’t forget to visit the places I told you about.”
“You act as if I didn’t live here before,” she chuckles at your unintended humour. “But don’t worry, I won’t.”
The line cuts after a short goodbye, and you welcome silence with a long sigh. It seems like there’s a lot on the list for you to finish: get some food to cure your hangover, take a nap, and then another after waking up. The prospect of going out alone is more daunting than it seems, therefore, staying in feels like it’s the best option.
Suddenly, a fleeting thought crosses your mind. You could have called me.
You instinctively reach for the telephone by the bedside table and dial his room number, fresh and vivid in your memory.
*
It takes half an hour to get to the destination Jungkook suggested. He agreed that you’ll treat him to (a very late afternoon) lunch if he picks the place.
“No way, it’s still here!” you exclaim as soon as you step foot off the cab. Waves of nostalgia come trickling in one by one, then hits you all at once when you open the door. Your senses are overwhelmed with familiar spices as soon as you push the door open. You look back and beam at Jungkook, who’s watching you with a small smile.
It’s only when you’re seated and have ordered that Jungkook clears his throat before saying, “I’m glad you still remember.”
You gawk at him, before crossing your legs firmly beneath you.
“Are you kidding? They have the best bibimbap and tofu stew. I was here almost every night especially during the exam period.”
“I know,” he says with confidence and you eye him with suspicion. “I mean, it was tough not to. You were always so loud around your friends.”
You scoff at him despite you knowing it to be true, but Jungkook takes no offence to it as he grins.
“It’s called having fun. You should try it sometime,” you point at him with your spoon.
“I am having fun with—”
“If you say ‘with you’, I swear to god you’re going to pay for the food instead,” you warn him despite a smile threatening to break from your lips.
“With you,” he emphasizes the phrase almost mockingly. You murmur the word “impossible” under your breath as you feel the tips of your ears grow warm.
Although the comment seems gratuitous at the time of its conception, to Jungkook’s credit you also come to enjoy time spent with him. Perhaps it’s the fact that he stands between novelty and familiarity that you fall into an easy discourse with him; you didn’t have to choose your words too carefully or worry that he might think ill of you based on what you say. There’s no seed of doubt and no root cause of anxiety.
You can’t help but find it odd, nevertheless.
Jungkook, whom you’ve never shared more than two lines before your current interaction with him. You’d never have thought in a million years you’d confide in somebody who used to give you odd stares and unfriendly glares when you passed by him in the halls of your high school. The past you would gawk, confused as to how he manages to coax even the tiniest smile out of you.
You’re about to point out that very fact to Jungkook when your phone rings and you’re immediately reprieved back out of the comfort of his presence.
It’s Taehyung, and you immediately answer.
“Babe, don’t freak out, but I’m currently in Daegu. Crazy! I know, I know. But remember I told you last night about—”
He begins listing names you recall hearing in passing. But it didn’t matter, because you stop paying attention after hearing where his current location is.
“—is why I couldn’t answer your call. But don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, probably.”
You watch Jungkook shift in his seat as he asks you if everything’s all right. You nod instinctively.
“Okay.”
“Cool. I’ll call you again later after we get settled. Love you.”
“Mhm.”
He must have been in a hurry because the call cuts before you could get another word in. Although you didn’t attempt to answer longer than a few sentences in the first place, afraid that the quiver in your voice will reveal the hurt and anger that has slowly been piling up one by one.
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    Jungkook thinks you’re a dam that’s overfilled and just about ready to burst. He’s afraid because you seem overly happy, obviously overcompensating for the devastation he had seen in your eyes hours prior to your call. He needn’t guess who it had been on the other side. Although he doesn’t know what Taehyung said, it’s enough to send you in a frantic search for your sanity.
This begins with you asking him to go to a karaoke bar with you, before proceeding to order several drinks. It’s on me, Jeon! I owe you lots, you declare before proceeding to down a whole glass of beer in one go.
Within the privacy the four walls of the room bring, you pour your energy into one upbeat song after another, seemingly uncaring of Jungkook’s presence. That is until your umpteenth song ends, and you turn away from the screen dramatically and towards him to hand him the mic.
“Your turn!”
“Great, I thought you’d never ask,” he says sarcastically and you join him on the seat, giggling. He takes the remote and punches in his selected number as a familiar tune comes through the speakers. He looks at you as he begins to sing the lyrics of the verse, and you break out into a small grin.
“I’m trying to realize, it’s alright to not be fine
” he sings softly as your head gently leans on his shoulder. Jungkook lets you.
He does again on the cab ride to the pub for a late dinner. And again on the way home. The weight of your presence against him is most likely inconsequential to the heaviness you carry around with you. That’s why he’ll do his part even though he most likely doesn’t have to; anything to let you know you’re not alone. He just hopes you know.
“Jungkook,” your voice is quiet against his ear as he carries you up the concrete steps.
“Yes?” he adjusts you on his back, careful not to drop you. He’s only slightly inebriated, and he’s hoping there will be no accidents for him or you.
“Thank you.”
“Just leave us a—”
“Five-star rating,” hearing your laughter feels ticklish in his stomach. “I will.”
His older brother greets him with an odd look once he enters the door of the lobby, before asking, “Is this what you skipped work for?”
“I’m only cashing in my days off before a leave,” Jungkook points at the elevator with his chin.
“Yeah, yeah,” his brother says dismissively before pressing the button for Jungkook. Silence passes through them as they wait for the doors to open. “Is she the reason why you changed your mind?”
Jungkook feels the steady rhythm of your pulse against his back, which is kilometres away from his erratic heartbeat. He tries not to put too much thought into it; he did just carry you up several flights of stairs, after all.
The harsh ping of the bell saves him from answering, and the older didn’t press him any further. It’s only after he’s turned the keys to your room, safely placed you on the bed — but not before he falls back onto the spot beside you with a deep sigh — that he has the time to formulate an articulate response.
“I’d like to think I did it out of my own volition. But a lot has happened the last few days, and, well
” he trails off as he turns his body to face you, one hand tucked against his cheek as the other reaches out to comb a stray hair out of your face.
You stir under his touch but he doesn’t make the effort to move away.
“Seems like I owe you again, Jeon Jungkook,” you whisper, the words stringing together seemingly in an indecipherable sound. He manages to put the pieces together, nonetheless.
“You’re not under any obligation to repay me,” he grins when you peel your eyes open. “I don’t want to give you all the credit, but you might have saved me more than once.”
“How so?”
The reflection of the city lights chase away the dimness of the room, but they also reflect your eyes in a way that makes Jungkook think you’re holding the galaxy’s secrets within them.
“I was having this, sort of, midlife crisis—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” you place your elbow against the mattress as you lean your flushed cheeks against your palm. “Saying you’re having a midlife crisis now in your late twenties makes it seem like your life’s going to end in your sixties.”
He shrugs half-heartedly. The pessimist in him urges him to declare, “Who’s to say I won’t?”
“Boo! I hate this story already.”
“Buckle up, because it’s about to get worse,” he smiles wryly.
And Jungkook opens up his fresh wounds and bares his soul without pomp and flowery words. He watches your reaction intently, nonetheless, knowing well enough that by the end of the night, he might get kicked out of the halls. He’ll take the punishment kindly, since she didn’t have the chance to slap him when he could tell, despite the distance, that she would punch him square in the face.
“I know it’s wrong, and I’m not making any excuses for my actions.”
“I feel like I have no place to get angry at you. But strictly speaking, from a rational person’s point of view...fuck you.”
“I deserve no less,” he says, appreciating your candour. “That’s why last night, when you fell asleep, I told her everything. I realized that I had no place to speak of communicating when I’ve been holding out on the truth from her for a while now. You can only imagine how angry she is with me.” He swallows thickly, hating the way his throat constricts uncomfortably. Perhaps he did care about how you’ll view him, after all.
“Are you all right, though?”
The worry engraved in the crease between your brow disarms him; the unexpected delicacy in the way you ask him suddenly brings him into sobriety. After hearing the phrase I don’t want to see you, ever, he hasn’t had the time to process how he feels other than the guilt that continues to plague him. He’d buried heartbreak that comes along after losing somebody so quickly that realizing it now has him terrified of himself.
Has he truly reached the point where he’s incapable of feeling anything?
Or is it that somewhere between then and now, he’s fallen out of love with her and made excuses for himself so that it’s easier to let her hate him because he didn’t have the courage to break it off? Is it because he’s using her as an excuse — his ticket out of Seoul, out of the life he thinks to be mundane? Because if so, then he’s an even bigger scumbag than he originally thought.
“Jungkook?”
The warmth of your hand on his cheek salvages him from sinking into the bottomless depth of his thoughts.
“I can’t believe I strung her along for this long.”
Then it hits him all at once; an unavoidable freight train carrying the emotions he’s repressed himself from bearing. In him blossoms the violent need to abate the heaviness that began festering within the depths of his mind a long time ago.
One sob and you pull him against you. Two and you’re running your hands soothingly down the curves of his back. Three, and he’s clinging onto you for dear life as the uncontrollable cries consume him. He’s overcome by a sense of dĂ©jĂ  vu as you wrap your arms tighter against him.
Jungkook lets you.
Again and again, he will selfishly welcome your presence, as if doing so would diminish him of any wrongdoings he has committed.
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    You drift in and out of consciousness, but the warm body stays unchanged beside you. Another aspect feels indifferent: The pounding headache constantly knocking against your temple. In hindsight, you probably need to stop drinking to the point where your body can’t handle the after-effects. Inhaling slowly puts your mind at ease as the scent of fresh lavender wafts over your senses; you’re immediately reminded of hanging freshly laundered sheets during a hot summer day. Only one person manages to conjure such specific and vivid imagery for you.
Jeon Jungkook.
Your body goes rigid at the feeling of his heavy arm draped across your waist. You slowly open your eyes, hoping that your initial hunch is wrong, and you’re merely dreaming that you let someone who’s neither a stranger nor a friend lay in bed with you.
But you’re met with his peaceful sleeping face, a stark difference between last night’s troubled and despaired Jungkook. For a split second, you let your mind wander with your heart amongst the perilous grounds of your imagination.
If picturing life with him is a sin, then there’s absolutely no saving you from entering the depths of hell.
(A tad bit over-dramatic on your part, but you believe you have the license to do so since you just woke up in the arms of someone else other than Taehyung.)
Despite the slight panic accentuated by the quick palpitations of your heartbeat, you make no genuine effort to move away. Bits of cynicism creeps up, either way, as you berate yourself for clinging onto anybody willing to keep you company.
But at this point, is Jungkook truly just ‘anybody’ to you? In a short period of time, you’ve managed to share more with him than you’ve had with Taehyung. With Jungkook, there’s nobody to compete for attention with.
So, what is holding you back from leaving the anguish behind and instead run straight on towards Jungkook? Is the sanctity of marriage you’ve sworn to uphold after seeing how it tore your own family apart enough of a reason to stay with him?
The answer sits on the tip of your tongue like a ripe fruit ready to burst.
Jungkook shifts his position as he raises one eyelid open before breaking out into a lazy grin. You return the gesture as you peel yourself away from his touch to sit upon the mattress and stretch your limbs wide.
“That was the best sleep I had in a while,” he admits.
“Maybe all you needed was a good cry.”
He gives you a knowing look. “Maybe.”
Silence ensues, and all of a sudden you’re unsure of what to tell him when minutes ago you allowed yourself to stare at him unabated. How exactly are you supposed to express gratification to the person who’s allowed themselves to be the unfortunate passenger to your rollercoaster of emotions? What’s more, is you’d done the same for him. Do you, then, without a need for more words, go back to how it had been previously and pretend nothing had happened?
You didn’t have much time to ponder because your phone vibrates in the back pocket of your jeans.
“What do you mean by ‘we need to talk’?”
“Good morning to you too, Taehyung,” you mumble. Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, as if in sudden realization of something he’d forgotten. He moves off the bed and motions for the bathroom. You nod wordlessly. It almost slipped your mind that you sent him a somewhat vague text the night previous after Jungkook’s spiel. “It means exactly what it says. We need to talk when you get back. You are coming back, right?”
“What’s with the sudden hostility in your tone? Of course, I’m coming back.”
“I think I deserve to be a little hostile,” a sudden wave of bravery washes over you. “How exactly am I supposed to feel after you leave me without warning on our trip?”
“I told you—”
“Stop fucking lying to me, Kim Taehyung,” your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “You never talk about anything with me anymore, and you know it.” There’s a certain pride you feel when he doesn’t respond right away. “I can’t talk to you about this on the phone. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Jungkook returns well after you’ve ended the call with Taehyung.
“I should probably get back to my room and change. I need to take over for my brother.”
You follow him towards the door, where he haphazardly puts on his shoes. When he stands, he gazes at you, eyes filled with tenderness. Your heart stutters. “Will you be okay?”
“Of course,” you offer him an encouraging smile, but he doesn’t return it. With one nod he’s out the door, and you watch as his figure retreats towards the elevator without so much as a wave, not knowing that would be the last you see of him for a while.
Taehyung’s arrival comes earlier than expected and catches you after your long shower, but says nothing to quell your worries. He merely sits on the bed and watches you pace around the room; for a comb one minute, then you put on lotion next, then you’re folding clothes to be laundered — anything to busy yourself from confrontation. It’s not that your courage has wavered, but rather your dignity prevents you from breaking first.
Yet as soon as your name rolls off his tongue, there’s a magnetic pull that has your feet nimbly walking to where he is.
“I’m sorry,” is all it takes from him for you to unravel completely. There’s no shortage of fresh, hot tears as he engulfs you against him. You bring your palms up to grab on his shirt tightly, before hitting his chest with no real intentions of hurting him. He doesn’t stop you but instead pulls back to place a chaste kiss on your forehead. Your arms fall nimbly to the side and Taehyung continues to mutter apologies one after the other, catching each teardrop before they reach the bottom of your ruddy cheeks.
He waits until you’ve stopped sobbing before you begin diving into a conversation that’s been long overdue. Slowly, the walls you’ve built around yourself begin to crumble brick by brick as the imperfections of your relationship reveal itself on the surface. It’s uncomfortable for him as much as it is for you to dredge up old wounds, evident by the way his eyes well up with tears, but it’s an intervention needed to regain what was, if possible.
Both you and Taehyung know one conversation is not enough to undo the fractures, but it’s a step closer towards salvation.
*
The end of your trip creeps up closer than you’d like. You stopped tagging along with Taehyung’s workdays because he agreed to go places with you. Days without him are spent milling around the neighbouring places of the bed and breakfast, which leads to your discovery of the best spicy rice cake just around the corner of the street. There is also the obligatory bike ride alone around the Han river, which proves to be more satisfactory than almost anything you’ve ever done.
You find yourself looking for Jungkook in-between the hours where your mind wanders and for a split second, all of your thoughts are suddenly dedicated to him. Deception comes in the form of denial when you push the aimless sentiments aside, afraid that you might get too carried away. It’s maddening to think that he only seems to show up in times of dire need as if the deity responsible for overlooking fate is playing tricks on you.
(Though you know that if you want to see him, the only thing you have to do is knock on his door. You dismiss that idea, either way, for fear of being too obtrusive.)
On the day of your departure, you wake up early to catch breakfast. You ask Taehyung if he wants to join you despite knowing the answer. He grunts in response but stays unmoving. You untangle yourself from the warmth of his body before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
Food has been prepared once you’re in the dining area, but there’s nobody to be found. It immediately reminds you of the first morning of your arrival—the excited faces of the children and their parents who were engrossed in a serious conversation, and the elderly couple enjoying their morning of peace together. Two weeks have gone by, and you’re not even sure if they’re still here or if they’ve moved on to see other places, meet other people.
Inadvertently, you steal a glimpse of the kitchen door, waiting for it to swing open and reveal the one person whose smile you’ve been longing to witness one last time. You grin as you shake your head; your propensity towards wishful thinking never ceases to make you feel disheartened.
“Last time you were staring longingly at your soup, and today you’re smiling to yourself,” his voice cuts through your thoughts intrusively as he strolls in, dressed down in a pair of casual joggers and an ill-fitting shirt too big to possibly belong to him. “Hi.”
Your gaze meets his, and breathlessly, you say, “Hi.”
He doesn’t make any gesture that indicates he wants to sit and chat this time around.
“Been busy?”
“I could say the same about you,” your lips curl upwards in a small smile. There’s a landslide of things you want to ask him, topics you want to share. You want to thank him over and over, invite him for a meal or even a simple walk around town. But words seem to fail you as you shift your eyes to stare at your half-eaten plate of fruit slices.
“My older brother mentioned you’re leaving today,” he announces offhandedly, scratching the nape of his neck. You’d like to think he’s just as unsure as you on how to go about having a conversation. Is he also stumbling over his thoughts like you are?
“Uh, yeah—” you flick your wristwatch to check the time— “I just have to wake Taeyhung, and we’ll be on our way.” The rueful smile he gives you feels like a splinter prodding your heart. “You?”
“Oh, I was just on my way to grab something before heading to the gym.”
“Ah,” you nod. Unlike the last time you two shared a conversation in the same place, this one is marred by awkward pauses and long bouts of silence. Afraid this will cause him to leave, you promptly state, “I honestly thought you ended up leaving the country since I didn’t see much of you.”
“That was the plan, yes,” his smile finally reaches his eyes. “I was supposed to leave a week ago— I mean, I had already bought the tickets and despite how it ended with me and her, I still wanted to leave. But someone told me just because you try to run from your problems doesn’t mean it will not follow you there.”
You chuckle as you shake your head. He continues. “I feel like I owe it to her to grant her wishes of not wanting to see me, no matter how much I wanted to get out of this place. A lot of reasons compelled me to stay, and I think I’m better for it.”
When your gaze meets his, there’s an unstated agreement; a kinship that cannot be unbound, locked away in a time you can only revisit through your memory.
“With that being said, I might tour Europe in two months’ time, starting with Sweden,” he grins playfully, cheeks dotted with a dimple. You roll your eyes as you stand before shoving him lightly by the shoulder.
“Alright, Richie Rich, no need to rub it in. I get it, I get it.”
“You have me mistaken, Miss. This was a culmination of years of hard work and savings.”  
“I’m happy for you,” you say with finality. No matter how much you did not want the conversation to end, there’s a twinge of sweetness to a farewell amidst the bleakness that often comes along; it doesn’t always have to end in thunder and rainfall.
But then he asks, “Are you happy for you?”
It might have been then, at that moment, where you’d willingly say blurt the phrase out loud, your situation be damned. But you didn’t—you couldn’t. Not when you nod wordlessly. Not when he opens his arms seemingly as a conclusion, a wordless action that says: I should probably let you go so I can also go about with my day. Instead, you carefully place the three words in your back pocket to be used later before you step into the warmth of his embrace.
He whispers a farewell and a promise that you know you’ll carry in your heart until the time fate allows you to meet again at another time and another place.
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shanie-the-toyaddict · 3 years ago
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In case anyone wants to know what creativity ON multiple mood stabelizers looks like, read the one above. I was DONE with that. I thought that was lovely and had moved on.
It's almost 5 am. My meds at probably at about 15-25% functionality right now.
THIS is the new version (and I still can probably do better.)
@wrestlezaynia if the last one poked your heart, I fear this version may be a bit more... stabby.
Oh, bit of context. As this was a dream, some of the IRL details were foggy. This story takes place in the late summer of 2022 but somehow is set in a world where Sami didn't leave the company until Spring of 2022. Also, Kevin didn't leave in January (or at all). Again, foggy dream details over possible future events. go with it.
...............................................
“You know,” he said, “With Kev gone, I was expecting another long, lonely night.”
Theresa tensed up sharply, tugging her hand away and withdrawing. The idea of Generico and Kevin being back together made her freeze and she suddenly felt like an unwanted intruder. Kevin and Sami, as well as his alter-ego Generico, had a hell of a history both in and out of the ring. She’d been a fan of the pair since the indies and, having grown up in the Eastern US, had many opportunities to see them before they made it big. CZW was a mainstay in Philly during her younger days and she had spent many nights in the old ECW Arena watching future stars like Eddie Kingston and Cesaro (then known as Claudio Castagnoli) earn their stripes and pay their dues in front of the raging Philadelphia crowd. Seeing Kevin and Generico find their footing in the states was just another one of the perks of being in the city and from the first time she saw them she knew they were destined for greatness. At the same time, she knew they were destined for greatness together. Even back in those days, there was no denying the chemistry and she’d watched in real-time as they grew from reluctant allies to close friends, to nearly inseparable. Of course, things had gone awry several times along the way and, the last time she checked they couldn’t stand each other. Had something changed?
She figured she should probably ask.
“You and Kevin,” she said, the tension clear in her voice, “You aren’t... I’m not being a homewrecker here, am I? Because I’m not going to be tramping on anyone else's turf, least of all someone as violent as Kevin Owens. And beyond that, I’m not about to be anyone’s rebound chick. Just because I messed up my professional life this week doesn’t mean I’m destroying my love life as well.”
Generico tilted his head as if intrigued by her comment.
“What did you do to your professional life?” he asked.
Theresa was having none of it.
“Don’t change the subject,” she told him, “Are you taken or not? Or worse, am I your rebound fling?”
She squared her shoulders just enough that she wasn’t presenting as overtly hostile but also showed she meant business.
He shook his head fervently.
“No! I swear! You aren’t some rebound fling! Kevin and I were never even
 we never
”
He trailed off sharply. Once more she watched as Generico’s head fell and a sad expression escaped from beneath the mask. Theresa had spent far too long watching his face both on TV and person not to recognize his moods despite the covering and again, the regret on his face was clear, this time made more evident by the illumination of the cafĂ©.
“No,” he replied, “I’m not with Kevin. I never was. Not for at least a decade. When I -”
Generico paused for a moment, appearing to rethink his comment, before continuing.
“When he realized I was leaving, he cornered me. Pinned me against the wall backstage. He told me that he didn’t care what bullshit I wanted to throw at him, he wasn’t going to let me leave on bad terms, and that whatever I needed to be convinced that he wasn’t against me he would give me. Whatever he wanted me to say, he would. As if there was anything he could say after all these years.”
Generico's eyes were firmly fixated on his hands, his eyes misty and forlorn.
“What did you tell him?” Theresa asked.
“I told him to apologize. Admit he was wrong, and that he was sorry for everything he ever did to me.”
The masked man didn’t go any further and Theresa nudged him along, asking, “And?”
Generico gave a wry smirk. “He did. He actually did. He admitted he’d been an asshole the whole time, that he was sorry, and that he wished he could do it all over again and treat me better. I don’t know why I accepted it, he was just saying it to make himself feel better. That’s just how he works. The bastard.”
He huffed, shaking his head slightly, and added, “And then he kissed me.”
His remarks were doing little to reassure Theresa and she scooted away a few inches, putting space between them. She was certainly disrupting something, stepping in where she didn’t belong and maybe it would be better if she just -
“Then he said goodbye,” he concluded bitterly. “He said goodbye and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Not a call, not a visit, not even a text. He pinned me to a wall, apologized, kissed me, and I’m probably never going to see him again. It’s like he’s just washed his hands of me; he got his forgiveness and now he’s done with me.”
Theresa could see him clench his jaw through the fabric of the mask. “Not that I blame him. Relationships like ours are better off left behind.”
Generico sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, leaning back against the booth bench. Theresa remained silent. She was stunned, her mind overloaded with the honesty of a stranger. It was absurd in her eyes that he would open up to her like that but then judging by his posture beside her, his defeated shoulder slump, and downturned eyes, it was a story that he needed to get off his chest.
Perhaps that was why he was at the bar in the first place. His abstinence from alcohol was no secret so why else would he be at the bar if not for companionship?
Then again, going to a bar after your ex unceremoniously dumps you with a goodbye kiss sounded an awful lot like he was looking for a rebound.
She must have given him a puzzled look because he spoke up once more.
“That was all four months ago. I left and he didn’t. He’s probably somewhere in California getting tossed onto a ladder right now. It’s Friday night. You know what that means
”
There was so much hurt in Generico’s voice, his words offering a brutal reminder of just how much the man had lost in the last couple of years.
“You aren’t a rebound from anyone,” he told her, finally making eye contact again. “I’d been going to that bar for a month just looking for someone who gave a damn about a has-been wrestler in a stupid mask. You were the first person who even cared enough to say hi. I don’t know, COVID and all, people in Florida really hate masks, I guess.”
--------------- There's a bit more before and after the passage but as you can see, my non-medically-stunted writing is nothing like the stuff I write when my imagination and emotions are turned off.
To @wrestlezaynia
There is a touch of Zowens (retrospectively) in that story I just sent you the ask about.
I'll post it under a cut because I'm trying something new with my writing and I want to see how you like it.
“You and Kevin,” she said, the tension clear in her voice, “You aren’t... I’m not being a homewrecker here, am I?”
Once more she watched as Generico’s head fell and a sad expression escaped from beneath the mask. Theresa had spent far too long watching his face both on TV and person not to recognize his moods despite the covering and again, the regret on his face was clear, this time made more evident by the illumination of the cafĂ©.
“No,” he replied, “I wish. When I...”
Generico paused for a moment, appearing to rethink his comment, before continuing.
“When he realized we were being separated, he cornered me. Pinned me against a wall. He told me that he wasn’t going to let me go on bad terms and that whatever I needed to be convinced that he wasn’t against me he would give me. He just didn’t want us to part as we were.”
Generico's eyes were firmly fixated on his hands, his eyes misty and forlorn.
“What did you tell him?” Theresa asked.
“I told him to apologize. Say he was wrong, and he was sorry for everything he ever did to me.”
The masked man didn’t go any further and Theresa nudged him along, asking, “And?”
“He did,” Generico continued. “He admitted he’d been an asshole the whole time, that he was sorry, and that he wished he could do it all over again and treat me better. And then he kissed me.”
His remarks were doing little to reassure Theresa and she scooted away a few inches, putting space between them. She was certainly disrupting something, stepping in where she didn’t belong and maybe it would be better if she just -
“And then he said goodbye,” he concluded. “He said goodbye and I haven’t seen or heard from him since. Not a call, not a visit, not even a text. It’s like he’s just washed his hands of me. Not that I blame him. Relationships like ours are better off left behind.”
.....................................................................................................
Like I said, it's just Zowens in retrospect. Mainly because I am physically incapable of writing a story about Sami or Kevin without at least including mention of them together. It's like a sickness, I tell you. This part wasn't even in the dream. I just added it to sooth my guilty fic conscience
Anyway, I'm working on trying that thing that was posted on here about "Eliminate all "Thought" words" and, I dunno. it's certainly challenging. But it seems to be working. Makes the story a lot longer tho.
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findingthebard · 7 years ago
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Best of the Bard: My Top 10 Favorite Shakespearean Characters
Now that I have completed my project of reading all 38 of Shakespeare’s plays, I thought I would share a few posts summing some of my favorites from the experience, some not-so-favorites, some of what I learned, and some recommendations. I’m going to call this my “Best of the Bard” series. I hope you enjoy it!
For the first Best of the Bard post, I thought I would share my top favorite characters from all of Shakespeare’s work.
There are a myriad of characters to choose from within Shakespeare's canon, which include some truly marvelous creations.
The 10 I have chosen are perhaps slightly changeable (I might come up with a slightly different list if I were to make this again in a few weeks), but most came to mind quite quickly and I think it’s a pretty solid list.
Please note that this is not a list of "nicest characters" or "characters that I would want to be friends with" or even "characters I admire." Some of them are. But some are most definitely not. They are the characters that simply stood out the most to me and/or that I found the most interesting.
Without any further ado, here is my list of favorite Shakespearean characters (in no particular order):
Lady Macbeth has fascinated me ever since I was first introduced to the play at the age of 10 or so. I think that is in large part because she was and is unlike any other character I have ever come across. There's a power in her that I can't help but admire in spite of all her faults and horrendous actions. And then when we compare that to the last time we see her in the play, where she is utterly broken, it is nothing short of devastating and heartbreaking. It's one of my favorite scenes of all time. She continues to fascinate me all these years later, and in some ways is the real star of Macbeth for me.
Rosalind is sheer joy and brilliance. I think any reader or audience of As You Like It can't help but adore her from the word go all the way to the end of the play. She is witty, fearless, mischievous, defiant, passionate, and so many more lovely adjectives. I love her so much and she deserves all the praise that can be heaped onto any Shakespeare character. So many female characters, even in contemporary literature, are passive and simply react to events. One of the many things I love about Rosalind is that she moves things forward all on her own. She doesn't wait to react to something that happens to her. She makes things happen, and she does it in good humor, with a smile, and staying an absolutely delight.
Celia/Aliena doesn't seem to get much attention, but I find her to be one of Shakespeare's most hilarious characters, with nearly infinite comic potential. She is absolutely hilarious, and is a perfect match for Rosalind's wit and impulsiveness. Celia shows so much loyalty, which I love, even though it inconveniences her, and provides all of the support that Rosalind needs to fulfill her plans. She is also a delight, and a brilliant character to watch.
Jaques is one of those famous minor roles like Malvolio, Dogberry, the Fool in Lear, or the Porter in Macbeth. Most of those roles I don't actually like very much, but Jaques is the exception. He is witty, he is intelligent, and he is incredibly funny without trying too hard or being a buffoon. Not to mention he has one of my favorite passages from the whole play: the seven stages of man speech. He is quite a cynical character, but I love him in spite of all that and I think he's an incredible creation and addition in to a Dramatis Personae already filled with a stunningly brilliant array of characters.
Prince Hal/Henry V is fascinating to me, in part because he changes more than any other Shakespearean character I can think of. True, he does it over three plays, but I still think it's pretty remarkable to watch. He is such a frat boy (pardon the stereotype, but it gets the point across) at the beginning, and we see him become an incredible king right before our eyes. That transformation is stunning and inspiring. It's also a little heartbreaking, because there is such a strong sense of duty in what he knows he has to be, and it feels like he has to weed out all that he was before and become someone entirely new. I love him for that sacrifice. I love him because of his struggle with living up to his father's expectations-something he feels he constantly fails at. I love him because he was able to finally set aside some of his worst instincts and become the king he knew he needed to be. I love him because of his courage and the way he inspires his people before the big battle in Henry V. I love him because he's an illustration that we can all be more than we think.
Falstaff is one of Shakespeare's most cherished characters, and for good reason-so much so, that Merry Wives of Windsor was (I think?) written so that he could again be featured. He is such a rascal, and not someone I would ever want to deal with in person, but he is a genius of a character. He looms larger than life, though not in a cartoonish way, and he is central to one of the most beautiful, brilliant scenes ever to grace the stage. His love for Hal is touching, even despite questionable motives and it makes me happy for Hal that he had someone like Falstaff in his life.
Beatrice is such a force of nature. I love how independent she is, how feisty and sarcastic, but Shakespeare avoids letting her fall into the stereotype of an Iron Maiden that so many "strong" female characters fall into now. She is so incredibly human and I love that. She is by far the best part about Much Ado About Nothing in my opinion (which is saying quite a bit, as I really like the play), and I think she's brilliant.
Benedick gets his fair share of my love, too. He's a bit of a...well...let's just say the last syllable in his name is rather fitting. The Benedick at the beginning of Much Ado About Nothing, at least, would definitely be a big of a sexist pig if he was alive today. BUT despite all his faults, I think you can't help but love him. His response when he "finds out" (a.k.a. is tricked into believing) that Beatrice is in love with him is freaking hilarious, but also kind of adorable, showing that, at least somewhere deep down, he's not actually a sexist pig. I also think he deserves a shoutout for what he does after the fiasco at Hero and Claudio's wedding.
Henry IV and Richard II are my final two favorite Shakespearean characters, and they are on my list for the same reason. I think they have some of the most beautiful lines and gorgeous language anywhere in Shakespeare's canon. And for a writer as gifted as the Bard, that is saying a heck of a lot. They both use stunningly exquisite language that seriously gives me shivers and leaves me breathless. You don't need to go any further than Richard II's "for god's sake, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings" speech or Henry IV's "O gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee..." soliloquy for evidence of that. Hoo. I'm getting shivers just thinking about it.
Honorable mention: Richard III is one of the most impressive characters Shakespeare ever created. The complexity of Richard's character is astounding, as is the extent to which we care about him and understand him despite knowing how horrible he is. Having a villain as your lead is a tricky thing to pull off, and through Richard, Shakespeare pull it off magnificently. It was very, very hard not to put Macbeth on this list as the honorable mention, but in the end, I think Richard is the better creation, although Macbeth has better lines. As I’m writing this, I feel like Macbeth definitely deserves a place on this list, but I should stop now, or I’m just going to keep adding to it.
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theleaderdotinfo-blog · 6 years ago
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Never Ending Story! has been published at http://www.theleader.info/2019/04/04/never-ending-story/
New Post has been published on http://www.theleader.info/2019/04/04/never-ending-story/
Never Ending Story!
This is the story of a very brave little pony called Faith who came to Easy Horse Care Rescue Centre (EHCRC) in 2010. Well actually it's about three little ponies and a dolphin! So let's start with hurricane Katrina, yes you read right, in 2005 in the aftermath of this devastating disaster in America many animals were left abandoned or lost in the chaos of the floods and the mass evacuation. An incredible couple Kaye and Glenn Harris stayed and decided to open their doors to whatever animal needed help. You have to picture the scene with the floods, the infected waters with excrement everywhere, the break ins and violent attacks that followed, the army patrolling the streets with helicopters flying overhead shooting at looters, it was an incredibly dangerous time but that didn't stop this couple. They did everything possible to get as many animals as they could to high ground and to safety. They broke into houses to free distressed animals and into pet shops to get food for them! They saved cats, dogs, birds, the list goes on and Molly the pony was one of them. Molly had been left in a barn, a tree had fallen through and fortunately this helped her survive as she was able to scramble up it until she could be rescued. Then in the ensuing chaos Molly got attacked by a dog and had to have her leg amputated. This couple was determined to do everything to help this little pony who had already been through so much. They found the surgeon Rustin Moore and the Louisiana University Hospital but had to do much convincing to get them to agree to operate. Then they found Dwayne Mara who made prosthetic limbs for people and convinced him to design and make Molly’s new limb. Molly found her feet so to speak and immediately adapted to her new leg. She went on to live a full life and only recently passed away. Molly became a real celebrity as a symbol of survival, she travelled the country, instilling hope in those less fortunate and was featured in a book and the media far and wide. Now this is where Faith comes in. It was in the summer of 2010 that Faith was found in a dusty yard beside a Spanish farmhouse. One of her injuries was a wide red gash cut deep across her lower right foreleg, evidence that she had remained cruelly ensnared for days in a rope used to tie her to a tree.  The rope had wound so tightly around Faith’s leg that blood ceased to circulate, causing deep  lacerations  and distressingly as Dorothea started to clean up the wound the flesh literally fell off her leg, totally exposing the bone structure.. Once safe at EHCRC, Rod and Sue Weeding Co-founders, with their vet Dorothea Dudli von Dewitz got to work on dealing with all Faith’s health  issues.  A plaster cast was the best choice for protection and support. The inimitable Dorothea came to the Centre daily for months to attend to Faith and with the Weedings, would remove her plaster cast, inspect the leg, inject antibiotics, clean the wound, bandage it up, apply another plaster cast and dry it with a hairdryer
it went on and on, day after day but to no avail. It was then decided to try something new, stem cell treatment, an experimental homemade stem-cell treatment Dorothea prepared herself! Twice a week she would draw a little of Faith’s blood, take it home, spin out the stem cells in a centrifugal machine, extract the healing cells and create an ointment to dress the wound. Although it was in the early days of this type of treatment as always Rod and Sue wanted to try any measure to help Faith. It appeared that the treatment was working initially but sadly the extent of the damage was too severe. So now the options for saving her leg were running out and it looked like amputation would be necessary. [caption id="attachment_29560" align="aligncenter" width="1280"] Never Ending Story![/caption] On finding that amputations on horses were unheard of in Spain the Weedings immediately searched for a solution. They thought of the world famous Spanish surgeon Gaspar Castelijins  from the Equihealth Clinic near Barcelona who they had previously worked with on the case of Princess. Gaspar had said if they ever needed his help in the future not to hesitate to call. So that is exactly what they did. Gaspar and the veterinary team would only operate if they felt Faith was mentally and psychologically ready for such a major operation. But after surviving the desperate situation in which she had been found, it was clear that Faith was a fighter, she knew how to look after herself. So Gaspar in Spain liaised with  fellow surgeon Rustin Moore in the USA. They tried yet another technique but ultimately amputation was the only option. Bear in mind if equine amputations were unheard of then it goes without saying that there were no prosthetic limb manufacturers in Spain either! Believe it or not, after she came round following the operation Faith valiantly walked out of that operating theatre on her new leg, designed and made by Gaspars business partner Claudio, a very basic artificial leg made with fiberglass and Velcro and leg components from kitchen cupboards! Although these limbs functioned they weren’t lasting very long so the Weedings decided to head to America to meet Molly, the couple who’d saved her and the incredible and creative prosthetic designer who had given Molly another chance at life just like they wanted to do for Faith. So after many meetings, discussions, phone calls, measurements etc. Dwayne made Faith her new leg, well at least a temporary one. Then over time he made her 5 in total. Faith adapted so well to her new limb that a new high tech flexible version was made however she did not take to this and so they reverted back to the original version and she did incredibly well. However the team noticed that she needed a more robust liner as a padding to protect her stump from rubbing. Yes, now this is where the dolphin comes in. Winter the dolphin, who lived in Florida had a prosthetic tail fitted in 2011. Due to an allergic reaction they had to get creative again and developed a special liner for Winter’s prosthesis. A book and film including sequel followed, starring people like Morgan Freeman. Back to our story
having heard about this fascinating story of Winter the dolphin in the States, yes, you guessed it the Weedings were on the case again and secured the same liner for Faith in order to give her protection and padding for a more comfortable fit. And it worked perfectly. However, although EHCRC did everything they could to give her the best care possible which was around the clock it was felt that it would be better to fund her to go to live with Gaspar in Barcelona. She loved it there where she had companionship, mobility and lived pain-free in five-star accommodation it also meant she wouldn’t have to struggle so much with the very high temperatures on the Costa Blanca. However, Faith’s other leg was obviously taking a lot of the weight and deteriorating, and having suffered from laminitis previously there was a real worry about how to help. When it gets to the stage that a disabled animal is struggling and you can’t make it better, it’s time to let go. It wasn’t a decision taken lightly but obviously no one was prepared to see Faith suffer. On October 29, 2015, on the advice of the specialist veterinarians, the heartbreaking decision to have Faith put to sleep Finally, here’s where Iris comes in. In December, 2015, Faith's prosthesis was sent to the Veterinary Teaching Hospital at the University of Lyon, in France where veterinarian Michael Schramme began fitting it for Iris, a 10-year-old pony. Iris had been diagnosed with a malignant tumour in her foot and, like Faith, amputation was the only chance of saving her. Iris’s leg was amputated in November 2015. At first, Iris, too, walked atop a very basic artificial leg made from two pieces of PVC drainage pipe joined together. When Iris’s owner contacted EHCRC, they knew they had to help, and immediately donated Faith’s professionally made prostheses. Rod and Sue Weeding said:”We are so happy that Faith’s prosthetic legs are helping another little pony and that she and Molly have inspired other surgeons to continue this work to help others out there. We believe that every animal that comes to us, because of the pain and suffering they’ve endured, deserves a second chance at life. That's why we decided to fight for Faith's life. We gave Faith a good five years, which she deserved. She had the best and she inspired so many people worldwide. Faith truly has changed all of us and she is deeply missed.” A huge thanks to everyone who supported Faith over the years. The donations, support and love for this little pony helped EHCRC through many tough times. Faith is often the topic of conversation and especially on the Open Days with visitors and so it was decided to share this story of these amazing animals and the people who rallied around worldwide to do their very best to help each and every one of them. For more information, to donate or to help in many different ways check out the website www.easyhorsecare.net
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buddyrabrahams · 7 years ago
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4 MLB teams poised to surge in the second half
The Major League Baseball All-Star break provides a great opportunity for teams to rest, sit back, and reassess where they stand. Some teams know they’re out of it. Some know they’re performing a little above expectation and will have to work very hard to keep it up.
Then there are the teams who feel that they can do even more. Perhaps they had good, but not great first halves. Perhaps they were outright disappointments. They know, deep down, though, that they have the talent to do even better than they did — and will be looking to kick things into high gear once the second half starts.
Here are four teams that may well get hot in the second half.
4) Texas Rangers
It is far too late for the Rangers to catch the Houston Astros in the American League West, but if they play their cards right, they definitely have a chance to make an impact on the wild card race. There is a lot of talent here, and even some evidence that their 43-45 first half record is a bit unlucky.
Texas has been middling in all departments, but injuries have had a huge impact on their fortunes. On the pitching side of things, ace lefty Cole Hamels has made just eight starts due to an oblique injury. Hamels is 4-0 and his replacements haven’t really been able to hack it in the Texas rotation. A healthy Hamels, paired with Yu Darvish and a solid Andrew Cashner, would make the Rangers significantly better every fifth day — assuming Texas doesn’t elect to blow it up.
There are also indications that the Rangers are beginning to get their struggling bullpen in better shape. They’ve never been able to settle on a closer, but Matt Bush, Alex Claudio, and Keone Kela are capable of giving this team good relief innings.
Surprisingly, the Texas offense has been a real problem, sitting 14th in the American League in batting average at the break, making up for the deficiency with some power. Still, it’s easy to imagine how much better they’d be if they had some guys on base for those extra base hits, as Elvis Andrus is the team’s only .300 hitter. Adrian Beltre has appeared in just 35 games due to injury, and if they can keep him healthy, that will be a major improvement in itself. If the likes of Rougned Odor and Jonathan Lucroy can pick up their offensive numbers a bit, do not be surprised to see this team make a run.
3) Boston Red Sox
On one hand, the Red Sox are already in first place in the AL East, sitting three and a half games ahead of the New York Yankees at 50-39. There is even more here, though, and that was hinted at as Boston started to play much better just before the break hit.
The only complaint about Boston’s offense would be a lack of power, as the team sits ninth in the AL in slugging percentage despite top-three marks in average and on-base percentage. They’re still fourth in the league in runs scored, and if they can find a steady presence at third base via trade, they’ll have a solid lineup from top to bottom.
For the first part of the season, it was Boston’s pitching that was holding them back, at least as much as they were being held back. Chris Sale has been spectacular for them from day one, but David Price spent much of the first half injured and Rick Porcello looked nothing like the pitcher who won the AL Cy Young just a year ago. Things appear to be shifting back, though. Price is healthy and, despite a few media-related controversies, has pitched fairly well. Porcello continues to be prone to disaster starts, but he has a 3.71 ERA in his last four outings and may be finding his footing again. If that happens, this team could turn the AL East into a blowout fairly quickly.
2) Cleveland Indians
Like the Red Sox, Cleveland sits in first place in their division at the break, but not by nearly as much as many prognosticators would have expected. The Indians are 47-40 — 2.5 games up on the Minnesota Twins — and have spent much of the season being plagued by injury and inconsistency.
The pitching, thought to be the team’s strength, hasn’t quite been as deep as some expected it to be. Sure, the three-headed bullpen monster of Bryan Shaw, Andrew Miller, and Cody Allen has been what they envisioned, and Carlos Carrasco and Corey Kluber have been superb atop the rotation, despite a brief spell on the sidelines in Kluber’s case. The problems have been with the back end of the rotation. Danny Salazar has taken a major step backward this year, becoming quite walk-prone and homer happy despite excellent strikeout numbers. He, Trevor Bauer, and Josh Tomlin all have ERAs over 5.00, and Salazar has found himself on the disabled list. Mike Clevinger has stepped up for them to provide some desperately-needed stability there.
The offense has taken a bit of time to come together, but Jose Ramirez is heating up, Edwin Encarnacion has found his footing, and Lonnie Chisenhall has been a pleasant surprise, posting a .953 OPS. This is all despite shortstop Francisco Lindor hitting an underwhelming .252 and a surprising lack of production from Yan Gomes and Carlos Santana, as well as struggles and injuries to second baseman Jason Kipnis. Fix a few of these problems and Cleveland will probably roll through the Central.
1) Chicago Cubs
We’ve been saying this for months, and it has to happen at some point, right? Nobody expected the reigning champions to be 43-45 at the All-Star Break, but here we are, and it’s safe to say the Cubs have been one of baseball’s biggest disappointments in 2017.
What has gone wrong? It’s really been a little bit of everything. The offense has been a huge disappointment, with pretty much everyone not named Kris Bryant failing to pull their weight. Anthony Rizzo’s power numbers are there, but his average has dropped to .256. Addison Russell is hitting under .230. Kyle Schwarber has been such a black hole that he found himself in the minors for a time. Javier Baez has an OBP of .295. Ben Zobrist’s offensive numbers have cratered. Only rookie Ian Happ has really provided an unexpected lift.
Yet it has been the pitching staff that has really let the Cubs down. Eddie Butler — of all people — is the starter with the best earned run average on the staff, as Jon Lester, Jake Arrieta, and Kyle Hendricks have all seen their ERAs rise above four, and Hendricks got hurt. John Lackey’s is over five, and he, too, landed on the DL. Combined, the Cubs’ big four starters have a record of 22-25.
Recognizing the problem, Chicago has already aggressively moved to try to fix it. Jose Quintana will help, but to be blunt, the Cubs cannot get to where they want or expect to go without their existing talent looking more like their old selves. The young hitters need to step up. Lester and Arrieta, in particular, need to get back to pitching like the aces that they were looked at as when the season started. It’s very hard to dismiss so much talent, though, and the break — and the trade — may help the team both relax a bit and give some players a kick up the pants. This is a very similar team to what romped through the National League last season, and it’s hard to believe that a run isn’t coming.
from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2uZWomu
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nerd-geek-solidarity · 1 year ago
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#like yeah okay definitely kill claudio
#but leonato is worse
#claudio at least thought he had real evidence
#leonato just believed claudio and don pedro immediately
#and you can go with the interpretation that claudio is very young and naive
#and feels a need to impress his new older friends
#and thinks he's doing the right thing because that's what a Man would do
#which makes him a little sympathetic at least
#but there is no way to make leonato sympathetic
#whatever interpretation you have he's an asshole
"kill claudio" this, "kill claudio" that. kill leonato. he believed a guy who he'd known for like a week over his literal daughter, joined him in publicly accusing and humiliating her, told her he wished she had never been born, then had the fucking audacity to tell claudio how awful he was for 'killing' hero, when he not only let him do it but encouraged and joined in with him
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