#does anyone have . opinions. i cannot decide whether to start it now or wait until i can draw iterators coherently

[transgenderfivepebbles]

me when i want to YELL ABOUT MY OCS but i am UNSATISFIED WITH MY ART STYLE!!!!!!

[slothquisitor]

Invisible String: Chapter Three

A Baldur’s Gate III Modern AU.

Chapter Summary: Liv receives messages from her newest match. Now with 100% more references to mind flayer erotica.

Read from the beginning.

Read on AO3.

____________________________________________________________

Liv discovered in her early twenties, much to her dismay, that she was a relationship girl. It was a bit of an inconvenient discovery since that was the time of life when everyone she knew was experimenting with everything from casual relationships to polyamorous ones and no one was looking for anything serious. 

It got easier as she got older, but also harder in a lot of ways. Her last serious relationship had seemed to be going so well until her girlfriend came home and announced that she’d taken a job in Amn. Liv had already begun mentally trying to wrap her head around moving when she’d told her that she didn’t expect Liv to pick up and move her life just because of her job…and suddenly the whole relationship had unraveled. She’d expected to be more heartbroken than she was, kept bracing for the inevitable break-up breakdown…but it never came and she realized that comfortability and love are not the same. 

Joining the Weave had been a half-hearted attempt at trying something new. Absolutely anonymously and from the comfort of her phone screen. It had taken a day or two for the first matches to roll in, but they had. She’d struck up the conversation first with RavenHearted, but it had fizzled out pretty quickly. The second had seemed promising for a whole day and a half until they started asking her to send pics of herself and she knew how that would go, so they got blocked. 

But this evening, a brand new match sits waiting. FangtasticLover. Really? Perhaps proximity isn’t really the algorithm of true love. She hasn’t blocked the new match yet, but she plans to. There’s no way anyone with a username that cringe-y is going to be a good match for her. 

She turns her attention back to the cozy baking show she has on a constant cycle. She’s not very good at watching things, but when she does sit down to watch something it’s this or the occasional bad rom-com. Astarion has a premium subscription to every streaming service so she even gets to enjoy the episodes without being jarringly interrupted by commercials.

Then her phone vibrates. 

FangtasticLover: So is your username more of a pronouncement or a challenge? 

She stares at the message, debating whether it is worth answering her mystery match. But then again, she’s currently in her pajamas and nestled in a blanket nest on a Tuesday night and what else is she really doing? 

Books>People: Would you like it to be a challenge? 

FangtasticLover: That depends on the nature of the challenge, am I convincing you that people are better than books or that just my particular person is? If the first, I cannot take that on since I agree with you. If the second, challenge accepted. 

As far as dating app openings go, this one isn’t too bad. He, and she does double-check the pronouns on the profile, has surprised her by actually making her smile rather than rolling her eyes. 

Books>People: You have an awfully high opinion of yourself. 

FangtasticLover: Well, someone has to. So, am I up against a particular book or books in general?

Books>People: How about you tell me about yourself and I’ll decide which book in particular you’re up against? 

FangtasticLover: What are your qualifications for selecting the book? How am I to know that you are a true book connoisseur? What if you consider self-published mind flayer erotica to be the pinnacle of literature?

Books>People: Wow. Self-published mind flayer erotica is the pinnacle of literature. 

FangtasticLover: Perhaps I have judged it too harshly. You’ll have to send me your favorite.

Books>People: I just did an internet search for self-published mind flayer erotica, and I’ve seen things I can’t unsee. Do I send you my therapy bill?

FangtasticLover: It actually exists? It was a joke, but of course it does. Yeah, send me the bill. Your clear disgust tells me you do have taste in books.

Books>People: Does that mean you’ll trust me to pick a book you’re up against?

FangtasticLover: I suppose.

Books>People: You are the one who wanted a challenge. 

FangtasticLover: I did. Alright, do your worst.

Books>People: You said you agreed that books are better than people. I’m curious about your reasons. 

FangtasticLover: Is it not self-explanatory why mind flayer erotica is better than people?

Books>People: And here you didn’t trust my taste in books. 

FangtasticLover: Books are quiet, never demanding more of you than you want to give. They’re enjoyed in isolation, but they rarely make you feel alone. 

Perhaps she was too quick to judge her mystery match based on his username alone. She already wants to like him. The sentiment he describes feels as though it could be plucked right out of her own feelings about books. She’s trying to formulate a suitable reply when another message comes through. 

FangtasticLover: All that and I only ever feel truly alive when reading Tentacles of Love . 

Books>People: I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything else from the person who proclaims his prowess in bed on a dating app. 

FangtasticLover: Says the person who joined a dating app with a username proudly declaring that she’d rather be reading. 

Books>People: Hey, I thought you agreed with me. 

FangtasticLover: I agreed that books are better than people, but you’ve confirmed you’d rather be reading than talking with me. Which, rude.

FangtasticLover: You also haven’t told me which book I’m up against, unless of course, that means I’ve already bested the challenge by being better than the selected book. 

Books>People: I’m putting you up against a particularly fussy short story anthology. 

FangtasticLover: Short and loud? Darling, I’m hurt. 

Books>People: More like surprisingly dense and difficult to understand. Spanning several genres. 

FangtasticLover: I’m going to take complex and run with it. Do you actually like this short story anthology? 

Books>People: So far so good. 

And then she immediately buries her head in the pillow and groans. Did she just tell this person she likes him, thirty minutes into messaging him? He’s playing it cool keeping it with the book metaphors and she’s over here already telling him…what? She’s not entirely sure if this can be considered going well, but she is having fun which is a huge improvement from most of her dating app experiences. 

FangtasticLover: I guess my plan is working. Besides all the mind flayer erotica, how else do you fill your time?

Books>People: Mostly I work. One must to survive, unfortunately. 

FangtasticLover: Oh this is awkward, I was only on the app to marry for money. 

Books>People: Shoot. Same here. We are truly a disappointment to each other. 

FangtasticLover: Even though it will never work out between us and our gold-digging ways, perhaps we can still chat. Commiserate, trade tricks of the trade, that sort of thing. 

Books>People: And share mind flayer erotica recs?

  FangtasticLover: Obviously.

Over the next few episodes, she learns vaguely that he works in public relations and spends too much time online (his words not hers) that his drink of choice is red wine and that his favorite book genre tends to be whatever he’s currently reading, which is fair. She tells him that her favorite book genre tends to be books about books whether it is books within books or books dealing with libraries. She tells him that she works for a university, but gives him nothing else. And he doesn’t seem to mind, able to instead pivot the conversation with ease. She stays up far too late messaging him, but then she does eventually leave him on read and goes to bed. 

But there was something really pleasant about this evening. 

***

Astarion finds himself drifting to the living room most mornings before Liv wakes up, and the two of them chat while she drinks her coffee. Or sometimes they simply sit in comfortable silence, but the quiet is one of his favorite parts of the day now. That and his constant messaging with Books>People. He hasn’t had this much fun with a match on the Weave in a long time. 

It’s been nearly four days of nonstop messaging throughout her day and some of his nights, and she hasn’t even once brought up meeting or anything even like it. She’s witty and clearly an academic, they’ve kept things pretty vague but he’s got guesses. That’s half the fun of this anyway. She’ll regularly go hours without messaging him though, only to come back with a witty two-line response as if she hasn’t been gone at all, so he gathers that she’s busy…or at least has a job where she can’t message all the time. They haven’t quite gotten to the ‘headed into a meeting’ communication. It’s still new after all. 

Between matching on the Weave, Liv being the world’s most unobtrusive roommate, and his latest Chirper threads doing very very well, Astarion is riding high going into the weekend. Plus, today is the best day of the month because it’s blood delivery day. 

His dietary restrictions are somewhat troublesome in this day and age. Now that he no longer spends his evenings at a vampire den masquerading as a nightclub under the most sadistic asshole he’s ever had the displeasure of being tied to, blood is difficult to come by. He no longer trades sex for blood, not since he learned that there could be another way…another existence he could carve for himself. 

Now, he has a supplier that his erstwhile rescuer had arranged for him. A butcher just outside of Baldur’s Gate who is happy to pack up blood and send it via an expensive courier service directly to Astarion’s door. It’s animal blood and not nearly as satisfying as humanoid blood, but it does the trick. 

The package arrives in the middle of the day while Liv is at work, as he had planned. Her shared calendar is good for some things, after all. He takes the package into his large, walk-in closet and parts the clothing obscuring his new freezer. 

He used to keep the blood in the refrigerator in the kitchen like a civilized person, but then he had to go and get a roommate who doesn’t know he’s a vampire. So now he has his closet freezer of shame which is conveniently hidden behind a very multicolored row of expensive clothing. She’ll never suspect a thing. 

Also, he’s done very well so far buying groceries and making sure they disappear from the refrigerator before they can go bad. It’s a bit of extra work, but he finds he has a hard time resenting it because the freedom of not worrying about whether he can make this month’s mortgage payment is very much worth it. 

Later, it’s almost dusk and he has no particular plans and is wondering what Liv will think of him if he actually spends a Friday night at home. Liv’s proximity and full life, shared in digital form on their calendar, has been a strange reminder of his own isolation. 

It turns out that his concerns about being judged are entirely unfounded since when he walks into the kitchen it is to find Liv fully in pajamas making popcorn and pouring a very large glass of wine. 

“Big Friday night plans?” he deadpans. 

She grins. “The biggest. You jealous?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t say I am.”

“But you haven’t even heard which movie I’m watching!”

He taps his chin and begins to consider. “It’s a period drama.”

Liv laughs. “No, that’s for next week when I’m hormonal.”

“Is that on the calendar?”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, you mean the one you don’t use?”

He hasn’t added a thing to it, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t check it. “Okay, tell me what movie you’re watching.”

“ My Almost Perfect Date .”

“That movie is like twenty years old.”

She looks offended. “It is from the renaissance of great romcoms. It’s fine if you don’t want to join, but I do plan on eating popcorn in proximity of the sofa.”

He’s not really sure why that’s supposed to bother him. “Enjoy?”

She gives him a complex look he can’t quite parse. “Do you want to join me?”

“For movie night?”

She shrugs. “Plenty of wine.”

Well, he does like wine. “Ugh. Alright.”

The smile she gives him is so brilliant, it looks like she’s won something. “Amazing. But there is a rule to movie night.”

“And what is that?”

She gestures to his clothing. “You can’t wear that.”

He looks down at his perfectly respectable cashmere sweater and tailored pants. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“It’s not movie night dress code. Pajamas only.”

He’s not entirely sure he even owns pajamas. He didn’t pay as much as he did for high thread count sheets to not feel them on his skin each night…but he might have something that will qualify. It certainly won’t be anything to rival the little silky set Liv is wearing that’s covered in tiny clouds and rainbows though. He does manage to track down the most informal things in his closet, a pair of fitted sweatpants he’s dressed up before, but decides he ought to dress down with a plain t-shirt for this occasion. 

When he returns, Liv does nothing more than give him a cursory look before continuing to set up what can only be described as a blanket nest on the couch. The movie is already queued on the T.V., simply awaiting them both. 

“Wow. You do take this seriously.”

“You’ve clearly never attended a proper movie night, so I’m just ensuring you get the best experience possible,” she replies smugly before holding out a glass of wine to him and gesturing at the spot of blankets. 

He settles in, it’s quite comfortable, and she does the same on her side of the couch. She sips her wine and gives him a sideways look. “I really thought you were going to fight me more about food and wine on the couch.”

He remembers then his lie about the curtains and protecting his couches. Which necessitates covering it up, which bothers him for some reason. “Do you plan to spill wine and popcorn on the couch?”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” Liv replies. “Ready?” 

He sighs. “I suppose.”

And then she hits play. He’s not sure what the etiquette is for movie night with Liv, but he refrains from scoffing or making jokes for a good part of the movie. And then a truly terrible outfit comes on screen and he feels wrenched back twenty years. 

“Oh gods, that’s tragic,” he mutters.

Liv laughs. “It’s a choice.”

And with the silence broken the rest of the movie passes with laughter and hilarious jabs at everything from the dialogue to the fashion to the absolutely terrible love decisions. It’s over too soon, and he finds himself a bit sad. He’d been enjoying that. 

As the credits roll, he gestures at the screen. “You know how sometimes you watch these movies and you go, oh they’re definitely divorced in six months?”

“Yeah.”

“Those two don’t even make it to the altar. They’re both equally terrible even though all of his flaws are the ones portrayed as the problem to be fixed. What about her? She can’t communicate and set a trap to trick him.”

Liv leans back on the couch looking rather impressed. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d be getting such strong opinions out of you on movie night.”

“It’s the wine,” he replies. It is decidedly not the wine. He would have to drink much much much more than this to even feel a hint of a buzz. 

“I’m just curious which other rom-com couples rank on your ‘definitely divorced’ list and if we should put that on next.”

He glances at her, and she’s serious. She looks at him like…like she wants to hear his thoughts, his opinions. Like she actually cares what he has to say about the world. It’s…nice. This whole evening is feeling perilously close to bonding, but there’s nothing wrong with that is there? She’s his roommate. Which is probably the only reason he admits to a particularly mortifying fact. 

“It’s not a romcom, but have you seen Crown of Shadows? ” he asks, words barely above a whisper.

In his defense, he watched the first episode because it had gone viral on Chirper and he wanted to know what the hell all the memes were about. He has no defense for the fact that he spent the next two weeks binging all seven seasons. 

“I have not,” Liv replies with a raised eyebrow. 

He snatches the remote from where it sits between them next to the nearly empty popcorn bowl. “There is a couple devoid of any chemistry and yet they are still together season after season and I need to know if you clock them immediately or not.”

Liv grins. “Oh, challenge accepted.”

They watch almost three full episodes before Liv tells him that she’s falling asleep, but those two hours are spent just as pleasantly as the first. In fact, it isn’t until Liv disappears into her room that he checks his phone and realizes with a bit of a pang that he hadn’t heard from Books>People all night long.

***

“You matched with someone, didn’t you?” Gale asks her on Sunday morning as they wind through the aisles of the Wide. The large market is bustling this morning, but Gale assures her that it’s not nearly as busy as it can get in the height of summer. The building itself is all interlocking green metal under glass ceilings tucked just beneath the train tracks in this part of Baldur’s Gate. There are food stalls and colorful booths boasting homemade trinkets and art, but Gale is leading her to the secondhand book stall, piled high with well-loved paperbacks and crates of hardback books. 

Liv smiles and puts her phone back in her bag. “I have actually.”

“And?”

She shrugs. “And nothing. It’s going well; he’s fun to talk to. We have a running joke about self-published mind flayer erotica.”

Gale looks at her with mock alarm. “I thought you said it was going well.”

She rolls her eyes. “Haha, you’re very funny.”

“Yet another of my friends lost to the Weave.”

She holds up her now-empty hands. “I put it away! I’m sorry!”

He gives her a slight smile. “I’m mostly kidding. I’m happy for you, really.”

And she believes him. Gale isn’t a good liar anyway. Once, back in undergrad, a girl who lived on Liv’s floor asked him out and he’d stuttered through an excuse so bad turning her down that their entire cohort knew about it. He’d tried to let her down gently at least. 

“I’m sorry if bringing it up bothers you,” Liv says. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Gale sighs, fingers lingering over worn-out paperback spines. “At this point, it’s less that it’s painful or truly bothersome and more that I don’t wish to do something simply because everyone else is?”

“How very hipster of you. Tell me more about the band you knew before they were famous.”

He grimaces. “Not like that. I don’t know. My last relationship…it was…it made me question things about myself and not in good ways. I feel so often that I can barely trust myself or my perception of things now. Technology only muddies that.”

Sometimes Gale says things and it feels like staring into a mirror. It had been so easy in college to see his brilliance and his work ethic as a direct challenge, but knowing him now she knows that he’s just like her. And all of that was an attempt at obfuscating just how perilous it all felt, that any mistake or fumble would lead to people discrediting the only thing they’d ever been praised for. 

“For what it’s worth, I like you and I think anyone would be lucky to catch your attention technologically or not,” she says. She wants to ask what happened between him and his ex, but she doesn’t dare. It’s something he can offer or not, the fact he’s sharing how he feels is enough. 

“I wish we’d kept up with each other better after Waterdeep; I could have used a friend like you when my life fell apart,” Gale says. 

The admission lights up something within her and makes her feel like she’s doing this friendship thing right for once. Gale had invited her out today, and she’d spent the whole morning wondering what she could do for him, what she has to offer in return. As if she has to find some way to convince him to keep her around, she always seems to be carrying this strange anxiety in her chest that she’s going to get ditched the second something better comes along. All of her friendships in adulthood have been positive experiences, so she’s not really sure where it all comes from, just that even here, hanging out with him she keeps wondering if it’s going okay. 

“Me too,” Liv manages. 

They browse the books for a while, looking for rare treasures buried in the piles and piles of common junk. Liv does find an old, faded edition of The Great Gatsby . It’s not worth more than the three dollars she pays for it, but she’s still thrilled with the find, with finding something old and rare, even if it’s unwanted. 

Later, they buy lunch from one of the food stalls, a delicious curry for her, and a hand pie for him, and eat along the riverwalk. Gale tells her about the area, about the historic theater not far from here, and points out his favorite ice cream shop, which they conspire to duck into later. 

“I have to admit, I was somewhat surprised at how willing you were to leave Cormyr for this job,” Gale says as they pause walking to lean against the side of the pedestrian bridge over the river. 

From this vantage point, they can see most of the major downtown sights, the tall buildings crowding the skyline juxtaposed with the old stone masonry of the city’s past. Liv rests her forearms against the metal railing. “It was just really good timing for me, honestly. And I was so excited, I was happy to drop everything and come here.”

None of it is a lie, but it’s not the truth either. She doesn’t like talking about her family, about what happened. It’s fucking humiliating. She wishes she could be the kind of person who could turn it into a joke, but instead, there’s this weird, persistent ache in her chest every time she thinks about her family. There’s a fear there too. Maybe if she tells anyone what her family thinks of her, the way they didn’t even fight or seem to care when she cut off contact with them, that they’ll make the same calculation…that they won’t want her either. 

That’s the part about going no contact that no one talks about. Everyone always says what a relief it is to finally cut ties, and she did feel that relief, absolutely…but she also felt a wave of disappointment that they didn’t even try to stop her. Family are the people who are supposed to love you no matter what, so what does it say about her that hers can’t seem to want her at all? It would have been a million times harder to leave if they had fought, but just once, Liv wishes someone had asked her to stay. 

Gale is a good friend, but he’s also an only child. She’s not sure she could explain any of this in a way he’d understand. The last thing she wants is for him to think less of her.

“And you’re happy? That you took the job, I mean,” Gale asks her with a sidelong glance. 

She’s pretty sure he sees there’s plenty she’s not saying, but at least the answer to this question is simple. “Yeah. Every day I walk into the library and sort of gaze up at the building in a sort of awe and think ‘this is my job!’”

“Years in and I still feel that way,” he admits. 

She gives that perfect view of the city one last take-it-all-in glance before smiling at him. “Is it time for ice cream?”

His answering laugh echoes over the river. “I believe it is.”

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

[basic-otaku]

My thoughts on Xue Yang's character (based on the drama and novel)

Xue Yang is a character I didn’t fully understand until I finished The Untamed. I looked back on him with a bit of pity but little understanding. It wasn’t until I listened to his character song that I truly began to dissect his character. Reading those lyrics completely flipped my perspective on him, and I went back to watch the Yi City arc again. I was shocked by how much I had missed. Xue Yang has since become one of my favorite characters of the series. I’ve spent so much time thinking about him and his motives that I finally decided to write down my thoughts. This analysis comes mostly from what I perceived, so it may differ from other people’s opinions. You are free to disagree with me.

Let’s start with what we know: Xue Yang was a street kid with a hard childhood. We know he was abandoned at a young age, but we don’t know how young. However, he must have been old enough to survive, so he couldn’t have been younger than four when he started fending for himself. We don’t know who his parents are because he doesn’t remember them, nor does he remember anyone else who had potentially taken care of him. His parents could be dead for all we know, or they could have dumped him somewhere when they no longer wanted to take care of him. It’s all up to speculation. He also has a very high pain tolerance, probably due to constant beatings as a child.

When you’re all alone in the world, you have to learn to put yourself first. There’s no one to care for you, so only you can care for yourself. I believe that Xue Yang wasn’t always a bad person because no one is inherently evil. However, because he was alone, there was no one to nurture him and teach him right from wrong. When all you experience is violence and hatred, that becomes your response to similar situations; you don’t expect kindness or want to give it in return.

One of Xue Yang’s flaws as a child was his naivety — he was much too quick to trust. That’s how he got himself into such a bad situation. He was eager to have something he was never able to have (candy), so he immediately trusted that shopkeeper when he said he could have some as a reward for running an errand. What he got in return wasn’t candy, but a brutal beating and a severed pinky. If Xue Yang had still had any faith left in humanity, this is the point where it would have left him. The remaining childhood innocence in him was gone. This brings me to an interesting piece of dialogue. In Yi City, when Xue Yang confronts Song Lan and tells him what he’s been up to, Song Lan curses at him, calling him an animal. Xue Yang laughs at him and says, “I quit using those words when I was seven.” And what happened to Xue Yang’s finger? “One finger was ground into battered flesh on the spot. The child was seven.” Even Xue Yang himself knows that moment was when everything changed, and he still carries the resentment with him now.

Back to the cart incident. This event scarred him for life and was the primary reason he became a sociopath. Now he’s bent on revenge. He was powerless as a child; just another street rat who shouldn’t be treated like a human being nor spared any pity. So, when he realizes he can do the same to those that hurt him, he takes it much further. When he was old enough and strong enough, he exacts his revenge. He wanted to make the Chang Clan feel his pain — not only for the finger he had lost but for his whole miserable life up to that point. If no one deigned to understand him, then he’d make them understand in the only way he knew how. With violence.

Xue Yang was only fifteen or sixteen when he slaughtered the Chang Clan, killing more than fifty people. This is where he meets Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. From the first moment, Xue Yang hates Xiao Xingchen. He’s so righteous, so full of light. He thinks he makes the world better just by doing a little good. What a hypocrite. Where was he when he was needed? Where was he when Xue Yang was a seven-year-old boy left crying in the streets after having his finger ground to a pulp? No, nobody can be that good.

When Xue Yang is captured by Wei Wuxian and the others, Xiao Xingchen takes him back to Qinghe to be apprehended, and Xue Yang vows to get his revenge on Xiao Xingchen for it. It isn’t long after he escapes from Qinghe that Xue Yang slaughters Baixue Temple, blinding Song Lan in the process. According to Xue Yang’s logic, hurting Xiao Xingchen’s friend is just as bad as hurting Xiao Xingchen himself. This is what causes the rift between Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. Without this incident, Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen may never have met again.

A few years have likely passed while Xue Yang was working for Jin Guangyao. He is probably closer to eighteen or nineteen when Jin Guangyao injures him and throws him out, which is how Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing find him. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t hesitate in bringing Xue Yang back to Yi City with him and A-Qing and caring for his wounds. Xue Yang wakes up pained and disoriented, but he immediately tries to back away when he realizes who is tending to him. He doesn’t know Xiao Xingchen is unaware of his identity, and probably thinks that Xiao Xingchen is getting ready to take him to face justice or something. But Xiao Xingchen insists that he doesn’t need to know who Xue Yang is and that he’s only doing what’s right. Xue Yang is clearly shocked by this admission. He truly cannot comprehend kindness, and this is the first time he’s ever experienced it.

This is also the first time we get to see his genuine smile. It’s shocked and incredulous, like he can’t believe this is happening, but it’s there. Throughout the series, Xue Yang’s snarky words and sly smirk are a token of his character, but now we know they are just a mask he uses to hide the small, broken child inside of him. If no one can see the hurt he hides, then no one can hurt him further. But with just one kind gesture, Xiao Xingchen was able to bring out the young boy who just wanted love and comfort.

This kindness is such a foreign concept to Xue Yang that he doesn’t think it’s genuine for a long time. But as the years pass, Xue Yang comes to realize that Xiao Xingchen isn’t a threat. This is something he scoffs at. Xiao Xingchen is ridiculously naïve; so stupid. If he knew who he was living with, who he was eating with, he wouldn’t act like this. He would treat Xue Yang the same way everyone else had. So, Xue Yang decides to trick Xiao Xingchen into murdering innocent people for revenge. Xue Yang can’t wait for Xiao Xingchen to find out what Xue Yang has made him do because it’ll break him. What this revenge is for is up to interpretation. Maybe he’s still angry about being captured and sent to Qinghe. Maybe he’s angry at the world for treating him so badly. Maybe Xue Yang wants to show Xiao Xingchen that his worldview is stupid and that there are no good or pure people in the world. I choose to believe that it’s the last one.

At least, this is his motivation at first — he slowly loses the will to harm Xiao Xingchen. This brings me to another interesting point. In episode three, Xue Yang says he doesn’t fear death, he fears boredom. But isn’t this domestic life he’s living with Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing considered boring by his standards? I think the boredom he speaks of is really the fear of being alone and having nothing at all. Now he’s happy, however reluctantly he’s willing to admit it. He wouldn’t have put up with A-Qing’s petulant behavior if he didn’t enjoy the time they spent together. Although they didn’t get along at first, Xue Yang protects A-Qing and takes care of her like an annoying older brother. He teases her, sure, but he also cuts her apple slices in the shape of rabbits and gives her advice on how to scare away the people who bully her (even though killing them isn’t great advice). Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing were the family he never had. Now he would do anything to preserve the life he is living.

After about a year, Xue Yang’s plan stopped being about revenge. I’m not completely sure how he justified this change of heart, but I like to think he told himself he was still biding his time and that he’d get back to it eventually (even if he had stopped thinking about hurting Xiao Xingchen). Based on what A-Qing told Song Lan when he arrived at Yi City, Xue Yang hadn’t taken Xiao Xingchen out on one of those night hunts in a long time. And most of the people that Xue Yang made Xiao Xingchen kill were the merchants that made fun of his blindness and cheated him with bad vegetables and high prices. It was a messed-up way to get revenge for Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang hates being looked down on, so shouldn’t Xiao Xingchen feel the same way?

Nevertheless, the time they spent in Yi City was probably the only time Xue Yang had been happy in his entire life. Xiao Xingchen was so in tune with what Xue Yang needed that Xue Yang came to care for him deeply. Whether those feelings were romantic or platonic in nature is up to the viewer, but I believe Xue Yang had fallen in love with Xiao Xingchen in the only sick and twisted way he could. Xiao Xingchen understood him more than anyone ever had, going so far as to listen to his idle ramblings and bring him a piece of candy every day after hearing that he had loved sweets as a child but could never have any. He managed to tame the savage beast in Xue Yang’s heart with only his presence and basic human decency. Xue Yang’s bloodlust was satiated as long as he had Xiao Xingchen to take care of him. At this point, I don’t think he would ever actually kill Xiao Xingchen. He had stopped wanting to hurt him a long time ago. A-Qing? Sure. She’s expendable, but Xiao Xingchen is irreplaceable. Even if Xue Yang reluctantly came to care about her, it wasn’t the same kind of bond. She had never shown him the same kindness that Xiao Xingchen had. He wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her if she betrayed him, but she was important to Xiao Xingchen, which meant he couldn’t do her any harm if he didn’t want to disrupt their happy life.

If Song Lan hadn’t found them, how long would Xue Yang have stayed? I don’t even think he knew. He just knew that he didn’t want to leave anymore. Xiao Xingchen gave him too much for him to want that. The viewer can easily see the happiness in his eyes when he looks at Xiao Xingchen. Xue Yang acts like a kid around him — playing games, joking around, making him laugh with childish remarks. Even in the quiet moments, he’s happy. This was especially noticeable in the campfire scene. It wasn’t shown in the original drama, but in the special edition, Xue Yang smiled at Xiao Xingchen from across the fire, and the look in his eyes as he gazed at his daozhang was so tender that it honestly caught me off guard. It seemed to catch Xue Yang off guard too because he caught himself, and the smile slowly fell. It’s like he realized what he’s doing and remembered that this should be about revenge.

Where in the past, Xue Yang hated Xiao Xingchen for his righteousness, he now loves him for his naivety. Without it, Xue Yang knows that Xiao Xingchen would be disgusted with himself. There would be no more laughs, no more games, and no more smiles. Then Xue Yang would lose the one person who didn’t treat him like dirt. So, when Song Lan finds them, Xue Yang immediately perceives it as a threat to their domestic life. He knows how important Song Lan is to Xiao Xingchen, and there’s no doubt in his mind that Xiao Xingchen won’t hesitate to leave with Song Lan when he discovers Xue Yang’s identity.

Furthermore, Xue Yang resents Song Lan for taking Xiao Xingchen’s eyes (even though it was voluntary on Xiao Xingchen’s part and was essentially Xue Yang’s fault). His logic tells him that having Xiao Xingchen kill Song Lan would be the perfect way for Xiao Xingchen to get his revenge. What Xue Yang doesn’t understand is that not everyone thinks about things in the context of revenge. I don’t believe Xiao Xingchen ever truly regretted giving up his sight. But Xue Yang can’t comprehend how someone could be that selfless.

This is where it all falls apart. A-Qing sees what happened to Song Lan, and she runs to Xiao Xingchen and tells him everything. When Xiao Xingchen comes back to confront him, Xue Yang spills it all. There’s nothing left for him to lose. His mask falls again, and he basically bares his soul to Xiao Xingchen. This is probably the first time he’s told the story about his finger, and I think he genuinely thought Xiao Xingchen was going to understand him; that if he knew what Xue Yang went through, he’d sympathize with him and justify his action (thereby justifying his feelings). Instead of that, however, Xiao Xingchen calls him disgusting, and it flips a switch inside of Xue Yang. How can Xiao Xingchen call him disgusting when he’s killed people too?

I think one of the reasons Xue Yang led Xiao Xingchen to kill those people was to bring Xiao Xingchen down to his level. Xue Yang doesn’t think that anyone can be as good as Xiao Xingchen claimed to be, so he had to taint his perfect record. Maybe if he killed people, Xiao Xingchen would understand him. Xue Yang thought that when Xiao Xingchen found out, he’d stay with him. Now he’s not the same righteous person he used to be, so how could he be good enough to travel the world with Song Lan? No, he should stay with Xue Yang instead and live a happy life together.

So, when Xiao Xingchen calls him disgusting, Xue Yang was probably confused and upset, which made him instinctively put his mask back up. Being vulnerable only hurt him again, so he’s back to harsh words and smirks, telling Xiao Xingchen that this is why he’s always hated him and that all of this was fun. Fun in every sense of the word: the killing and the happiness.

Xiao Xingchen finding out that he killed Song Lan was the last straw. Xue Yang is still laughing as Xiao Xingchen slits his own throat. It takes a moment for the realization to set in, but as it does, the smile falls from Xue Yang’s lips, and his hands begin to shake. This is the third time his mask has fallen. His eyes begin to well with tears, but he tries to keep up his act, saying that dead ones are easier to control, but the only one he’s acting for is himself.

The next scene is the one that really solidified Xue Yang’s feelings for me. He cleans the blood from Xiao Xingchen’s skin with the same care that Xiao Xingchen had shown him when he first found Xue Yang in that ditch. Xue Yang clearly thinks that Xiao Xingchen is going to come back and that the ritual will work, that he staves off his tears and sets out food for both of them. He considers eating his candy but then decides he should wait until Xiao Xingchen comes back. If he’s back, then Xue Yang is sure to get another piece.

When he realizes that the ritual isn’t working and Xiao Xingchen isn’t coming back, he breaks down. The tantrum he throws is so full of rage and anguish that it really shows the depth of his feelings for Xiao Xingchen. Again, he goes back to acting, trying to guilt Xiao Xingchen’s dead body into coming back to life by telling him all the terrible things he’ll do to Song Lan and A-Qing if he doesn’t reawaken. Obviously, Xiao Xingchen can’t hear him, and Xue Yang knows this, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. He finally dissolves into tears, screaming and crying over Xiao Xingchen’s corpse. This may have been the first time he’s cried since he lost his finger. Crying is for innocent, naïve children, and it doesn’t help anybody. But now Xue Yang has had a taste of pure sweetness and doesn’t want to go back to the bitter life he has known, so he finally lets himself weep for all the things he could have had.

Xue Yang spent the next seven years trying to bring Xiao Xingchen back to life with no success. We don’t know much about his activities after Yi City, but we have gotten information through rumors that Shuanghua was being used to kill innocents. It seems like Xue Yang wanted to keep a part of Xiao Xingchen with him. He even continued his sick revenge plot after Xiao Xingchen’s death by gouging out the eyes of and killing the remains of the Chang Clan, including their leader, Chang Ping, by lingchi. Xue Yang doesn’t blame himself in the slightest; he just thinks that Xiao Xingchen’s death was an unfortunate consequence of the situation. He will put the blame on anyone and everyone other than himself. Thus, instead of performing lingchi on himself like Wei Wuxian suggested, he takes out his anger on the remains of the Chang Clan.

Everything Xue Yang does in the present is tied to Xiao Xingchen, yet he still can’t bring him back. So, when he heard that the Yiling Patriarch had suddenly come back to life, Xue Yang knew it was his last chance. The sword ghost/ghost arm is what led Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji to Yi City. It was pointing to its murderer. I’m sure Xue Yang could have avoided a confrontation if he wanted, but this was intentional. As for the juniors, I have a feeling that Xue Yang was behind the cat corpses that led them to meet up with Wei Wuxian. This is still unclear though because Xue Yang doesn’t have a real reason to get them involved. The only person he needs is Wei Wuxian.

Xue Yang has tried everything at this point. So, when Wei Wuxian finds him in Yi City, pretending to be Xiao Xingchen, he is completely desperate. I do wonder if that is something he has done more than once. Did he often go around dressed as Xiao Xingchen? Was he playing with the life they had in Yi City? Pretending he was still there? Or was it a one-time thing to trick Wei Wuxian into dropping his guard? I also wonder how often he used his own sword because only after Lan Zhan took Shuanghua from him did he pull out Jiangzai. That could be because he was acting as Xiao Xingchen, but we can’t be sure. However, that isn’t the point. Right now, Wei Wuxian was Xue Yang’s only option because the Yiling Patriarch surely knew things he didn’t. Xue Yang had lived with Xiao Xingchen’s corpse for those seven years, keeping him in pristine condition. I’m pretty sure the only way Xue Yang could have done this was by giving him spiritual energy every day, which would be incredibly draining. I don’t think Xue Yang had an exceptionally strong golden core to begin with either. He is primarily a demonic cultivator, which means he doesn’t use his golden core often. It must have taken most of his strength to keep Xiao Xingchen’s body in such good condition. But anything for daozhang, right? Xue Yang needed Xiao Xingchen’s body to be perfect when he returned. He also put aside his pride and used Song Lan for protection all those years. He kept the one person he continued to hate with a burning passion around him for so long.

When Wei Wuxian tells Xue Yang he can’t bring Xiao Xingchen back to life because his soul is too broken, Xue Yang refuses to believe it. It’s been seven years already; he can’t give up now. Deep down, I believe Xue Yang knows Xiao Xingchen wouldn’t want anything to do with him even if he did come back, but he can’t figure out why. Because nothing was his fault, of course.

Something Wei Wuxian said really struck me as I went back to rewatch episode 39. Before the fight, Wei Wuxian turns to Xue Yang and says, “you disgust him to the core, yet you still want to pull him back to play this stupid game.” Xue Yang responds with “I want nothing of the kind.” And he’s being honest. He doesn’t want a stupid game — he wants something real. He wants a life where Xiao Xingchen knows his identity and stays with him in spite of it. He just wants one person to accept him as he is, but that will never, nor could ever, happen —not with all the crimes he has committed.

When Lan Wangji cut off his arm, leaving Xue Yang bleeding on the ground, I think he knew it was over. There was nothing left for him now. He was never getting Xiao Xingchen back. He never had him in the first place, not in any way that counted. So he laughs, blood spilling from his lips, to cover up the tears he wishes he could cry.

He’s ready when Song Lan stabs him, dying with a smile on his face as he gazes at the last piece of candy Xiao Xingchen had ever given him. It’s blackened and inedible, yet Xue Yang held on to it for so long; it was a reminder of his daozhang and of why he was fighting so hard. Like his character song said, he was “too determined to let go.”

It’s kind of sad that even in death, he was never respected by anyone other than Xiao Xingchen, and all of that was built on a lie. He didn’t even get a proper burial, although I suppose he kind of deserved it. Xue Yang is the character I pity the most in this series. He isn’t a good person, nowhere near it, and he deserved the end he got, but I wish things could have been different. What hurts is that it just as easily could have been Wei Wuxian. If Xue Yang had been taken in as a child; if he’d had his own Jiang Fengmian, his own Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, he could have been happier. Maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe he would have met Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan and started a sect with them. Realistically, he and Xiao Xingchen would never be lovers because Xiao Xingchen was so strongly connected to Song Lan, but I think they could have been friends.

However, one question I still have is did Xue Yang fall in love with Xiao Xingchen because of how he treated him or because of the person Xiao Xingchen really was? If they had met under different circumstances (and if Xue Yang had had a support system when he was young), would Xue Yang have still fallen in love with him? I guess that’s up to the viewer to decide.

Ultimately, Xue Yang is still a sociopath who can’t understand empathy or feel remorse, so I don’t think he regretted any of his crimes. However, I do believe that Xue Yang regretted the consequences of his actions in Yi City. He didn’t want Xiao Xingchen to die, but his actions were what caused his death. It’s more of a dissatisfaction with where things ended up than feeling guilty for his death. Although I don’t think Xue Yang felt remorseful, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t grieving, nor does it mean his feelings for Xiao Xingchen weren’t as genuine as they could have been.

I don’t know where Xue Yang or Xiao Xingchen will end up now, but I hope they’ll both be happy in their next lives. The same goes for A-Qing and Song Lan (when he finally meets his true end). There are so many things that contributed to Xue Yang’s unstable mind, but I think the moral of the story is that it pays to be kind. If just one person had taken pity on him as a child — had shown him that there was good in the world — I wonder what kind of person he would have become.

I already know how cruel fate is

Not looking, not asking, not grieving, not hating

Waiting to relive my life just for a single person

Ups and downs in life

I would leave no regrets

I tried searching in the darkness of night

When I am trapped in the past

I still hope that a flicker of light will appear in my heart

The legend of this lonely city

Who came here before?

And gifted to me my karma

I am waiting for this karma to liberate spirits, liberate souls, and liberate me

Even though I am already too determined to let go

If I get rid of these inner demons

Would you forgive me?

Gaining freedom from destiny, starting all over again

[avversiera-writes]

touch your heart [senju tobirama/you] - prologue + chapter 1

Summary: Hashirama might go down as the worst matchmaker in history, but he thinks he might be on to something. Tobirama sees through his brother's schemes and is determined not to fall for it. Or fall for you.

Word Count: 5k-ish

A/N: Yoooo sorry for taking this long to post it LMAOOO anyways, this work is available on AO3 with 12 chapters in, so if you want to read away! 

also dedicating this post to @senju-sekhmet you’re the best, and happy belated XD 

AO3 LINK FOR TOUCH YOUR HEART

LINK FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES 

[PROLOGUE]

Thank you. 

Those two words are what Tobirama’s mother seemed to tell his father all the time. She looked grateful saying it too. Too grateful to the point that she is cooped up in the Senju compound all the time, with nowhere to go. Tobirama was a smart kid–too smart for his own good–and he saw that the last place she wants to be was here, with family and raising children in this godforsaken war zone. 

 His mother said that was how she met his father, and how she fell in love with him, by the words of gratefulness, but Tobirama is a smart kid. He knew nothing of love, but he could tell that his mother did not love his father. She mistook feelings of gratitude as feelings of love.  

His mother has a cold face, but she was gentle and fierce and was a great story-teller. She told stories of the great mountains and rivers that she has seen before everything fell into disarray. His mother loved art, books, and knowledge. She always encouraged Tobirama and his brothers to pursue their own curiosities beyond war.  

Tobirama always took that to heart. Sure, his body and his mind are well-suited for battle but his interests lie elsewhere. He loves to explore, to discover, to observe and to experiment to prove something foreign to him. He loves to break down something to its smallest detail and build it back up to make something new. He wants to create. 

Thank you. 

Those were two words that were too much for his mother to bear all her life. It weighed on her. It chained her down. 

Thank you. 

Those were her last words to Tobirama. 

Thank you, for being my son, for letting me be your mother. 

Those were two words that stuck to him like a curse. They were binding, until the bitter end. 

.

.

.

[PART ONE, CHAPTER ONE]

The first time Tobirama sees you, he immediately forms the opinion that you are too loud. Loud, in a sense that everything that passes by you, has to pay attention to you. Loud, in a sense that, when you speak, everyone has to hang by your every word. You are too loud, and he immediately concludes that you will not last long in a battle because you seem like an easy target. It is not like him to make fast conclusions without further observation, but you are just so loud that he wants to immediately shut down his senses.

So loud in fact, that even among the crowd, Tobirama cannot help but look your way and be wary of your presence. 

Contrary to what he thinks, you are not that much of a blabbermouth nor a person who speaks aimlessly, but he does not know you yet. He has not even had a chance to look you straight in the face. 

Today, he finds you standing by an umbrella stand, where a dozen colorful and detailed parasols are opened as a display to passerbys. You are in your casual kimono, and because it is spring, there are lovely pink cherry blossoms etched on your left sleeve, spreading towards your chest. Your obi cinches your waist and holds your sword by your side, so that it is easy to rest your hand on top of the hilt. Your hair is held back from your face with a simple hairpiece, and a festival fox mask hangs on the side of your head.

Tobirama stares, not having anything else to look at. 

Hashirama and Madara are also walking around, greeting the citizens of Konoha, and holding children up in the air. Hashirama’s young sons follow closely behind, playfully roughhousing each other and anyone who happens to get in their way. 

Hashirama notices his brother, glaring at a distant point and decides to step in lest Tobirama accidentally offends someone. He knows that his brother does not mean to glower at times. It’s just his eyes are a bit sensitive to the sun. 

At least, that is the reason, most of the time.

Tobirama immediately looks away from you, but Hashirama already saw who he was looking at. He gives Tobirama a curious smile. 

“What?” Tobirama deadpans. 

“You should go talk to her,” Hashirama suggests. “You seem interested.”

Tobirama folds his arms. “No.” 

Hashirama opens his mouth to add another thing, but Tobirama beats him to it. 

“Brother, I said no,” Tobirama affirms, and that was that. 

 Hashirama sighs, and pouts a little. “She’s nice!” 

Tobirama fakes a cough, making sure to spit out the words idiot clearly, and he crosses his arms. “You think everyone is nice.”

“Well, innocent until proven guilty, as they say!” 

Tobirama glances back at you, and finds that he can easily track you. 

 “With all due respect, elder brother, that is a very naive statement coming from you.” 

Tobirama has heard of you and he stops himself from telling Hashirama that, and instead lets him point out that you were one of the newly ranked jounins and that you specialize in kenjutsu. You also have been spending your free time teaching some of the older genins the basics of close range fighting and defense. 

 As the Hokage, Hashirama is more than happy to get to know those who are rising to the ranks and especially those who are gifted. It means that their Academy is working, even though it hasn’t been very long since it was established. You were one of those people from a clan who are already shinobi, but had to be evaluated in order to determine your rank and the Shodaime Hokage saw how skillful you are, despite not being the most powerful user of ninjutsu. He wants Konoha to have dependable teachers who will pass on useful skills and knowledge to whoever wants to learn. 

You start to walk away from the umbrella stand, when suddenly a bunch of kids and teenagers rush towards you. Tobirama sees some young students in the group that he had picked himself. Hiruzen stands out among the rest, loud and rambunctious, while Danzo follows closely behind like a shadow, but as obtrusive.

“Sensei! You should join the sparring competition later! They have bokkens, you’re good with bokkens!” 

You laugh, and try to back out before the others start to make your decision. “I think I will pass!” 

“Aww, no!” 

Tobirama watches the commotion, and then you look towards him. He freezes, as you smile at him and continue to wave him forward. Tobirama glares, because you are still waving at him but he does not know you so obviously he is not going to wave back, but suddenly Madara passes by him and Tobirama almost feels embarrassed. 

  Almost. He checks himself.

The wave was not meant for him.  

He glimpses Madara give a small wave, and this makes him pause.

 Madara waves? Tobirama almost scoffs at this, but he must keep his public appearance. 

You smile warmly, and introduce Madara to the younger children who were starting to cower a little because of his serious and glum expression. Tobirama watches as you slip your arm through Madara’s arm like you have done it many times. Tobirama’s students look at each other, but they do not harbor any bad sentiments toward the Uchiha clan leader. Some of them even crack a smile at the younger children’s reactions. Madara can be a little intimidating at first, if you do not know him.

 Then, you say something to the kids, earning a laugh from them and a small, tight-lipped smile from Madara.

Tobirama notices that the edges of Madara’s eyes have softened, something he only does around Hashirama.

“Are you sure you don’t want to get introduced to her? She is a very warm person,” Hashirama asks. “She’s also very smart and I think you’d benefit from her insights.” 

Tobirama watches her say her goodbyes and pat a few children’s heads, and walk away. “I’m fine.”

 Hashirama looks at Tobirama, doubt painted across his face, but he lets it go. 

 For now. 

//

You stand in front of the Hokage, waiting for him to speak. You have been called early in the morning to meet with him, and you have been there for a few minutes, standing awkwardly. You are not sure whether to start some small talk since the Shodaime is busy peering over a few scrolls. Usually, whenever you see him, the Hokage is pretty chatty and offers a lot of kind words. He also seems to talk a lot about his younger brother to you, bragging about him and his accomplishments, and underwhelmingly explaining his personality, which you find strange. 

It makes you think that there’s something off about Tobirama. 

The door behind you opens and you step to the side to make a wide berth for the incoming person, even though there is enough room for at least a few more people to stand there. Tobirama walks in, his face sporting deep eyebags, but his eyes are hard and alert. You look him over, and your eyes go to his rough hands, where there are dried ink stains on his pale skin. His veins protrude out, blue and green rivers criss-crossing over his hands and up his arms. You see hints of faded scars on his skin, but in this light, his pale skin makes up for the blemishes.

“Brother,” Tobirama greets, although it sounds more like he is about to scold his elder brother. 

 Hashirama smiles and he motions for you to step closer. 

You do, and you feel Tobirama’s eyes track you. You immediately look up and you catch his gaze, which makes him look away. 

“I have a task for the two of you,” Hashirama casually brings up. He looks strangely cheerful. Like he has a step by step plan that went exactly as he wanted. 

You look at the Hokage, all ears. And curious as to why he is acting this way. 

“It has come to my attention that while we are training the next generation to be good shinobis, I do not think that we have a proper and standard curriculum,” Hashirama begins. 

Tobirama’s head snaps upright at this. “Brother, what do you mean?” 

He sounds almost angry, and well, if you were the creator of the education system in the village you built and someone had found flaws in it, you would be too. 

“I think that there should be specific learning materials for each year before graduating to a genin, and so on,” Hashirama elaborates some more. “The two of you are to come up with these materials, and I want you to include other aspects that are not just related to being a shinobi. I want the next generation to not only be bred for war, but to have dispositions in other areas.” 

Hashirama stands up and he places his palms on his desk. “Tobirama, you know this. You want to expand our village, I think this is a good step to make that happen.”

 Tobirama looks at his brother with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He is not an idiot. He knows this is some set up, otherwise, why would his brother call you earlier than him? Why would his brother need you for this? These are the types of things he can accomplish on his own, so why are you here?

 “I understand. Then, I think it is time for that to happen. We are at peace, after all.” 

You slowly raise your hand. You notice that Tobirama does not even glance at you, and you want to laugh. You have heard a few things about Senju Tobirama from his own brother, and while it does not surprise you that he has a prickly attitude, it is another thing to see it upfront. It does not intimidate you, rather, it makes you want to see more of his reactions. He reminds you of the shy children that you have met in the Academy. 

You just need to push the right buttons.

“If I may, Lord Hokage,” you start. 

 Hashirama nods for you to continue. 

“With all due respect, what qualifications did I have to help Lord Tobirama with this new project?” 

You swear you saw Tobirama’s eye twitch from the way you said his title. You hide your smirk by biting the side of your cheek.

Hashirama lets out a small chuckle, in which he earns a glare from his younger brother. 

“I have heard about your dedication in teaching the children when you have the time, and since you insisted that you do not want to be a jounin sensei yet, like my brother is, I think it is a good idea for you to keep your head busy. Besides, I have heard you are quite the quick learner. You will find that my brother here is a very good teacher and can offer guidance well, if you can look past his mean demeanor.” 

Tobirama opens his mouth to snap at his brother, but instead, takes a breath and holds his tongue.

Hashirama gathers up some documents from the corner of his desk. “You two can start tomorrow. I would love to have this done by the end of summer, just as the new school year is upon us.” 

 “Brother, stop being ridiculous. That is in three months,” Tobirama interjects. “I think I’m going to need time to plan.” 

 Hashirama glances at his brother. “Well, luckily for you, someone is here to help you. I have faith in you.” 

“Too much, perhaps,” Tobirama dryly says, not even bothering to hide that he does not like this.  

“And you, as well,” Hashirama says to you with a cheerful smile.

 “Lord Hokage, with all due respect, am I going to get paid enough for this? I am practically jobless, I have a living to make,” you inquire with a smile. “Besides, you may also have to compensate for putting me up with your dear brother.”

In the corner of your eye, Tobirama crosses his arms. 

 Hashirama laughs heartily, and he gives Tobirama a grin. “I like her!” He nods. “You will surely be thanked for your services.” 

He extends the pile of documents towards you and you step forward to accept them. You thank the Hokage with doubt, half-serious about the salary, but you decide to not push it today and you give him a smile. Then, you also smile at Tobirama.

 “I will see you tomorrow then,” you tell him. 

Tobirama carefully gazes at you, and then he nods. He turns to his brother with a determined look on his face. Or an angry look. You are honestly not sure. 

“The Hokage mansion’s library,” Tobirama grounds out curtly. “9 am. Sharp.”

You look at him, wondering what type of bad day he is having to be this abrupt, or if this is how he really is. You understand that he and his brother have been at war for all of their life, so maybe this is how he has turned out.

“I will see you.” You bow quickly and walk out of there, ready to dive into the materials the Hokage gave you. 

//

Madara aims a punch towards your way, but you quickly dodge it and block it with the palm of your hand, and you follow through by sending his movement forward by using his momentum and landing a charged punch to his lower ribs, just where his liver will be. 

Madara chuckles and he flips himself away from you. 

“Brutal,” Madara comments breezily. “That can actually kill someone, but fortunately I’m not just anyone.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah well, give me an A for effort.”

Madara falters and his eyes narrow at you. He knows as well as you do that you are slacking and there is a lot on your mind. “Is this about what Hashirama told you earlier?”

You meet his eyes and let out a sigh. “Wow, word travels fast.”

Madara starts to walk towards you and he gathers his hair to one side. “That was not fair of him. If you want, I can talk to him about that.” 

You watch Madara’s face, and a cloud passes overhead. You are almost tempted to say yes and cling to the wings that Madara has put you under to shelter you, but you are not that woman anymore. You are not a quitter. Besides, you need to have a purpose to pour your efforts in. If not, then what else could be in store for you? 

“It’s not like the Hokage asked me to cut off my hand, I will be fine, Madara,” you finally answer. “Really.”

Madara folds his arms and he presses his lips together. “If you ever need me to go beat him up then say the word.”

You cannot help the chuckle that escapes your mouth. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. There will be no need of beating.” You pause and a smirk forms on your face as an idea takes form in your mind. “However, you can help me get to know Tobirama.”

Madara scowls, knowing that you are pushing his buttons. “No, you are on your own,” he grits out. 

The air around your friend changes, and suddenly all the silliness in your demeanor fades away. Your eyes narrow warily, as his face darkens at you with disapproval. You know that he still holds a grudge on Tobirama, and it really is quite low of you to mention him so casually. 

 Madara narrows his eyes at you and shakes his head. "You have some guts." 

You point your chin towards him naughtily. "Everyone's fair game." You break out into a smile, even if Madara can decide right then and there to end your life. "You just can't take it."

Madara used to always intimidate you, and he furthered that feeling at times by showing you his sharingan, because you know, you know , what he is capable of doing with those eyes, but he never really did anything to you. It was more of the idea of what he can do to you, at any given time. 

 Madara stays silent for a few more moments. Then, he attempts to soften his voice. “What do you want to know?” 

You raise an eyebrow at this. “Uchiha Madara is finally giving in?” 

 Madara rolls his eyes and he lets out a small, tight-lipped smile. "Just this once, but you are paying for lunch.” 

 You gasp, taking offense at this. “You do know I am broke, right?” 

“Who’s fault was it for not taking my offer to live in the Uchiha compound?” Madara matches his footsteps with yours as the two of you head towards the village. 

“First of all, I am not an Uchiha, your people will oust me the moment I step foot, and second, I want to make a living for myself.” 

Madara rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re all alone.”

 “Aren’t you?” You retort without thought.

 Madara falls into silence. “You know someday, you will get in trouble with that mouth of yours.” 

“You just can’t handle me.” 

 “The offer still stands,” Madara mutters, and he glances at you. “And it’s safe there. I will make sure no one even says a bad word about you. If you are with me, they won’t even look at you.” 

“That sounds like a lonely life, and you know that I have been mostly caged in my childhood.” You sigh and you bump your shoulder against his arm. “I appreciate everything you have done for me, but I have nothing, Madara. It’s time I do something for myself and invest in something bigger than me. I need that.” 

//

The Hokage mansion is huge inside, and since you do not visit this place often, you are not sure where the said library is. It could just be any room in here. Or, there is no such thing as the library in the Hokage mansion and Tobirama just said that because he wants to avoid you and send you on a goosechase away from him. You know that he is not thrilled to be put up on this project with you, based on his expressions yesterday, but you are kind of determined to change his mind now. 

 Besides, you are fun and cool, something he can take notes on as he seems prudish. 

  You sigh as you decide to just wait for Tobirama outside, instead of wandering inside the mansion. There are still some parts being built, and you do not want to cause any trouble to the workers there. 

You are quite early, hoping to beat Tobirama to the punch to solidify yourself in his good graces and show him that you are serious about this. However, due to your punctuality, the waiting time is becoming ridiculously long. Sometimes you are not big on the whole waiting patiently thing.

You sigh, and aimlessly walk around the whole building. 

  You hear people starting to mile about to start their day, and you hear children laughing and talking loudly among themselves, which brings a smile to your lips. You decide to stay near the entrance of the mansion so Tobirama will not have any trouble looking for you. 

Lost in your thoughts, you brandish your blade from its scabbard and you start to draw stick figures on the soil, and you add little details such as trees, kunais and shurikens. 

You are not sure how much Tobirama knows about you, but you have heard many things about him, mostly from his brother, both good and bad. You know that he is a great warrior and one of the most brilliant minds that his generation has seen. He is responsible for the complex system of the very village you reside in, and the Hokage’s trusted advisor, even more than Uchiha Madara, who you know is very close to Hashirama. You also know that he is a great sensei, according to his students, which you have no doubt about since he is very intelligent. 

Personality wise, he remains a mystery to you. Mostly because Hashirama glosses over that when talking about him. All you know is that Tobirama can be difficult at times, but you figure that it is how one should act when you are at the forefront of leading this village.

However, you are not in the least intimidated, even if he is a little older and has experienced more in life. Now that you are going to be working with him more, you are curious as to what the famed Senju Tobirama is really all about. 

“I hope I did not keep you waiting,” Tobirama’s rough voice interrupts the quiet that you have immersed yourself in. 

  You perk up, and put your sword back with a loud click. He glances down at the ground, where you have made silly stick figures of shinobis fighting. You attempt to erase them with your foot. 

“Not at all!” You lie, but Tobirama sees through that and he narrows his eyes suspiciously. 

His serious face does not change, and instead you think he grew even more serious. He nods and gestures towards the mansion. He clutches the books and the scrolls he has close to his body.

 “Shall we?” 

You follow Tobirama towards the entrance, trying to keep up with his long strides, though he seems to be speeding up on purpose. Finally, he unlocks the library doors and opens them wide. The two of you step in, and you cannot help but feel underwhelmed at the great reveal of the Hokage mansion’s library. 

It is bare, with a lone wooden table and three chairs situated next to the windows. 

 To the side are empty bookshelves, with the exception of one shelf, which is almost halfway filled. 

“This is a sorry library,” you comment under your breath. 

 Tobirama walks up to the table and puts down the materials he has been carrying. 

  “We are going to fill it, starting today,” Tobirama says. “And for the rest of the year.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “How? Write and publish our own books?” 

  Tobirama glances up at you, without irony. “Yes.”  

You feign a smile.  “Oh,” you deadpan. He does seem like the type of person to do that.

“We are also going to visit every clan in the village and ask if we could transcribe some of their writings,” Tobirama continues. “We can make our references through that, integrate their history and make a comprehensive one for Konoha. We also need to learn some of their jutsus and study them, among other things.” 

  You nod, understanding what he means. “Alright, where do we start? And how do we rewrite the Academy curriculum part?” 

“Well first, I will have to set a few rules,” Tobirama drones on, looking at you pointedly.  

You walk towards him so that you are standing on the other side of the table. “Alright, shoot,” you say. 

“I have written the deadlines of the parts that you will do. You must give them to me, on time ,” Tobirama sternly says, slipping one of the scrolls forward. “I have a vague plan of what the curriculum can look like, but you will also have the chance to express your ideas.” 

  You take the scroll and open it gingerly, and you look at the back to back due dates. 

“You must not talk to me aimlessly, unless it is about this project or if you need any clarification on the tasks you have to do,” Tobirama continues. “When we are working, I expect you to only work.”

You nod, thinking that these are easy, reasonable rules. 

  “You must be punctual.” 

  You are way too punctual, so you know that you are going to follow this rule perfectly. 

“Do not eat near me.” 

  At this, you almost roll your eyes, but you hold yourself back. 

  “Do not touch my things, unless I give them to you. I hope that you can call my title with respect,” Tobirama drones on and on, mostly about the little things he is apparently very particular about. “You will also be training with me and my students, and I expect you to always be on top of your game.” 

“Yes, of course.” You blink at all his so-called rules, and fight the urge to roll your eyes. It’s like he already has the impression that you won’t be as dedicated to your job as he is. 

  But you are dedicated. 

However, you cannot help but talk back. He probably made a rule for that, but it goes unheard by you. 

Tobirama nods. “Very well.” 

  “Did you stay up all night making this up?” You ask, unable to help yourself garner some reaction from him. 

Tobirama’s stare is stormy, and his eyes narrow strictly. “It is common sense that you abide by such unsaid rules.”

  “But you just, well forgive me, enumerated them. If they are common sense, then you would not have to re-tell it.” 

Tobirama lets out a stream of breath from his nose that sounds a tad bit impatient, and he rolls his eyes. 

  You smile, feeling a little triumphant at getting a reaction from him. He catches your expression and he schools his face to become serious once more.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you wait for Tobirama to speak. 

  “I heard you teach at the Academy at times,” Tobirama suddenly brings up. “When did you start?” 

  Your eyes narrow slightly at this. Tobirama built the Academy, so he must be aware of the things happening there. “Almost a year ago.” 

  Tobirama taps a finger on the books that he set down. “And you teach when?” 

“Wednesdays and Fridays,” you reply. 

Tobirama nods. “I will be coming with you.” 

You pause at this. “Wait, why?” 

Tobirama looks at you as if it’s obvious. “To size up what the kids need to learn, observe which materials are appropriate for age groups until they graduate as genin, and so forth.”  

Of course, that makes sense. 

Tobirama pulls out the chair and he slides into it. “Then, let us begin. We have many things to research and read up on.” 

You look at him as he opens the books, and distributes some of them to you. 

  “Will you get around to telling me what your plan is, or are you just going to let me guess?” You ask as you flip to the first page of one of the books that he handed to you.

You slide on the chair across from him, taking care to move to the side so that you are giving him his space. 

“Silence, when I am working,” Tobirama states without looking up from what he is reading. “Do not talk to me aimlessly. You will get a chance to ask me questions later, I suggest you start listing them down.”

  “Alright, alright,” you mumble. 

You read the first paragraph of the book, already taking note of the main idea. After a few pages, however, you glance up at your book and to Tobirama, who has not moved an inch except to turn a page. You observe his pristine expression, your eyes going down the slope of his strong nose, his high cheekbones, and his lips that form into a pout, and then to the markings on his face and chin.

  He’s handsome, you’ll give him that. 

His eyes never waver, unlike you, and from this, you can tell that he always pours all his focus and efforts when he does something. 

“Work,” Tobirama reminds you. “And look at the due dates so you can think about how you can strategize your time.” 

You snap up and pretend to go back to your reading, but you glance at him one last time. Something about him piques your curiosity, and it makes you want to push his buttons just to see what the famed Senju Tobirama is all about. 

 You cannot help but let out a tiny smile and you raise the book to hide your face. 

Well, if he already has some sort of prejudice towards you, you might as well play that to your advantage. 

You smirk to yourself, finally looking forward to the time the two of you will spend together. 

.

.

.

[CHAPTER TWO >>>]

[sunset-curve-fantom]

Wake Up- Alive!Luke x Reader

A/N; I WROTE THIS FOR ME, IT IS ABOUT MY STRUGGLE AFTER LOSING MY GRANDMOTHER. I HOPE YOU ENJOY, AND MAYBE IT WILL HELP SOMEONE.

WARNINGS: TALK ABOUT DEATH, AND DEMENTIA

You had been in a funk for over a year, you had just lost your grandmother and she was the light of your life. She spent every waking hour making sure you were taken care of, and that you had somewhere to stay and someone to love you. Your grandmother had been like a parent to you, from the moment your parents separated, she was there when they couldn’t be, and you were so grateful.

She gave you a purpose in life, and when she got sick, and I mean really sick it was hard to watch. Her dementia came on hard, and it made her forget the most important people in her life, including you. You were a light in her life and suddenly that light had disappeared over night, as her memory faded so did her body. She was deteriorating at a rate that was unbearable to watch….

The last cognitive conversation you had with her was about you boyfriend, Luke. He was the light at the end of the tunnel as you faced the unthinkable. You knew how much she loved him, and he loved her, she had become a surrogate for some of the love he was lacking at home. She wanted you to be happy and stay in love. She wanted Luke to be your endgame, and before you could make your future a reality… She was gone, like a ship in the night. It was quick but that never made it any easier to face.

The moment she left you earth side, the music stopped. You couldn’t combine a single lyric or a melody. You were sure it would come back to you one day, but as much as you and Luke tried; you just fell into a puddle of tears every time. It was like the music left the moment she did, and that was an unbearable feeling, not only for you but for Luke.

Luke Patterson was the most selfless person you had ever met, he wanted nothing more than to restore a sense of happiness into your world, but he didn’t know how. He would have given up music if it meant bringing you happiness. But your happiness left this earth, and he couldn’t bring her back no matter how much he tried and prayed.

Here you were a year later, still in a rut with your music but tried to be supportive of Luke and his dreams. You were watching the guys and Julie mess around with certain lyrics and tunes as you were scribbling in your journal.

You didn’t dare tell Luke and the guys that same amounts of lyrics began to appear in your mind, which is what you were scribbling down.

“Hey Lover, how does this sound” Luke said, drawing your attention away from your possible lyrics. They were adjusting the entrance to Bright and were just trying to include you.

You listened carefully to the beginning, “Maybe Julie should start off slow with the piano before you guys jump in at the chorus?”

You looked up from your spot on the couch, and everyone’s eyes were on you, it was the first musical thing you had mentioned in a year. It flowed out of you like it never left in the first place.

“What?” beginning to feel uncomfortable with everyone’s attention on you.

“You-you-you you just suggested something musical for the first time in a year, and it is something that we didn’t even think of. I-I- I guess we are all just a bit shocked” Reggie said, clearly unsure of what to say at your comments, you just shrugged your shoulders.

“It’s nothing, just an idea” You said, returning to your journal in front of you. It really wasn’t a big deal; they asked your opinion, and you gave it to them.

Julie told the guys to take a break before settling in the chair next to the couch, “You okay? You seem to be writing up a storm there”

You looked up at her, trying to decide whether or not to tell her the truth. You quickly looked around to make sure the boys had left, well mostly Luke.

“If you tell Luke, I will kill you… I have- uh startedwritingmusicagain” you said quickly, Julie just looked at you with this look of “can you repeat that”

Sucking in a deep breath, you said it slower. “I may have started writing music again, but you cannot tell Luke. I am not ready to share this with anyone”

Julie looked like she was going to faint from the breath she was holding, “Wait really?? This is a good thing, why not tell Luke? He would love to have his writing partner back”

All you could do was roll your eyes at her, “Because I love Luke, and I don’t want to hurt him if I can’t get back into it. I sing and I think of her, every day. That is never going to change, and I just don’t want to start something again, and then stop because it got too hard.” It was the most truthful answer you had given in some time.

She just looked at you, before releasing a deep breath, “Honestly… when my mom died, I didn’t think I would ever be able to enter this garage again, let alone play music. But you and Luke, plus tweedle dee and tweedle dum, made that possible for me. I have never felt more alive, and more confident in myself until recently. That is something the both of you brought to me, so I know it seems hard now. But in the end, it is so worth every bit of pain you are feeling. She would want you to be happy, and to flourish, and most of all, to be truthful with Luke.”

You could feel the tears springing into your eyes, Julie was right. She wouldn’t want you to be suffering, she would want you doing something that makes you happy. Something that reminds you of all the goodness in this world, no matter how painful the reality is.

You grabbed Julie’s hand, “Thank you, I think I finally remembered why I started my music in the first place. Do you mind keeping the boys distracted for a bit…? I want to write”

A huge smile erupted on her face before she headed out of the garage, she was going to give you the space you needed. You were going to find your center again, and music was something that kept you grounded. Your grandmother gave you the greatest gift, and it was time you found your way back to that.

Carefully picking up your journal, you made your way over to the grand piano. Gently you ran your fingers over the keys, it had been a year, but it was like a close memory to you. You carefully began playing scales on the piano, smiling as you did so. This was the magic you wanted back, you needed it back for you and for Luke.

Swiftly you opened the journal, holding the lyrics to the one song that meant so much. It had been a year of depression, sadness, and now you were finally back on track. You were on the one thing that made you the happiest, which was your music.

You began to play the opening notes, scanning the page of your journal before singing the part that stuck with you the most,

So get up, get out, relight that spark

You know the rest by heart

Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up

Your fingers bounced along the keys, as you sang for the first time in a year. Hot tears were running down your flustered cheeks. This was exactly what you needed; this was your way to communicate with her. As you finished the last notes, a ray of sunshine highlighted the keys in front of you.

It was like her way of knowing you were okay, you just barely whispered under your breath, “Hi Grammy… I miss you”

You looked up from the keys as the sunshine disappeared and there was Luke, he was absolutely stunned. Julie had sent him out here for his songbook but instead he found his girlfriend singing, for the first time in so long. It was like Luke forgot how talented you were.

“Hi baby, how long have you been here?” You questioned, shutting your journal. He said nothing as he made his way around the piano. He picked you up from your seat, wrapping your legs around his waist as you clung to him tightly.

“You played baby, you really played” He whispered into your hair as he held you close to him. He was afraid if he let you go; you would disappear from in front of him.

“I had to, I had to play for her. I can’t walk around in this darkness anymore” You said softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. You could feel his hot tears falling onto your shirt, you had never realized how much he was hurting. All you knew was how much he wanted to take care of you and protect you from everything in the world.

“Luke, I am back… my music is back. There is nothing to wake up from anymore, I did everything I could to make her proud. I know it took a year, but I am back baby.” You said again, trying to ingrain it in his head. This was a reality, no longer a dream.

He just held you tighter, he didn’t want to let you go.

“AWWWWW THAT IS SO CUTE” Reggie squealed from over your shoulder, you just heard a smack before Alex told him to shut up.

You looked up to the group at the doors of the garage, pressing a kiss onto Luke’s nose. You jumped down from his hold, “So who is ready to work on Bright?”

You made your way over to the piano again, playing the beginning notes. Your love for music was back, and it was all thanks to your grandmother who never doubted you.

TAGLIST:

@parkeret​ @calamitykaty​ @gia-kerks​ @kcd15​ @all-in-fangirl​ @notasofti​

@julies-molina​ @morganayennefertyrell​ @crybabyddl​

[elenyagrace]

left-handed

(also posted on ao3)

Ivan is right-handed.

That is just another fact in a long list of facts that need no further explanation. The sky is blue (except when it's grey, which it usually is in his hometown), the Fjerdans hate Grisha, and Ivan is right-handed.

It's a good thing that he is, for the children that favour their left hand over their right... Well, they're treated differently. He lives in a small village near the Fjerdan border, and many of its inhabitants share their neighbours' opinions on Grisha and other things they believe to be witchcraft - such as being left-handed.

So really, it's a relief to his parents that when the first time he gets a hold of one of his older brothers’ pencils, he picks it up with his right hand.

He doesn't join in when the other children pick on those that weren't so lucky, but he too regards those children with caution and mistrust. Like everyone, he knows that it is only a matter of time until the witchcraft that runs in their blood takes a shape more sinister than a simple preference of right or left.

There hasn't been a Grisha from this village in ages, but when a message arrives from the Little Palace that says that testers will visit them in two weeks time, there are no doubts in anyone's mind that the baker's son, Feliks, and the carpenter's daughter, Irina, will be revealed to be Grisha, for they both favour their left hand.

Ivan can hear his parents whisper about them whenever either of them passes, and he knows the other adults are doing the same. The other children increase their torment, and not a single opportunity to call them names like "freak" is passed by.

Once, when Ivan passes Feliks in the street, he sees bruises littering the boy's face. But he knows better than to say anything, knows not to get himself in trouble. No one worries for even a moment that Ivan might be Grisha.

So when the testers come, and neither Feliks nor Irina turn out to be Grisha, but Ivan does, it comes as a shock to everyone.

-

Ivan is sitting in a carriage on the way to the Little Palace, and the look on his parents' faces is still burnt into his mind like a fresh wound. His father left the room without a word of goodbye to his son, and his mother could barely stand to look at him as he packed the few belongings he possessed. Not one of his siblings bothered to say goodbye to him, but maybe that is for the best - Ivan is not sure if he could've endured it.

The Grisha who came to his home and tore apart his life are talking about something, but he tunes them out as he looks out of the carriage's window. They had tried to engage him into a conversation at first, but quickly left him be after his answers turned monosyllabic once he had told them his name.

Ivan knows, rationally, that none of this is really their fault. They were only doing their duty, and Ivan's father, who had served many years in the First Army, had instilled the sense of duty into his sons from the moment they were old enough to know what it meant.

But Ivan is allowing himself this one day to grieve the end of his life as he'd known it for the past ten years. Once they get to the Little Palace he'll accept his fate without complaint, as his father taught him to, but for now he watches the world pass by until nothing in his surroundings resembles the landscape of his home - his former home, he reminds himself - anymore.

-

By the time they pull up to the Little Palace, Ivan has decided to stop wallowing in self pity. His family might hate and fear him for what he is, but he is determined to do right by their name either way. He is going to be the best Corporalnik there is, even though admittedly, he is not quite sure what that will entail.

The first thing he notices when he steps out of the carriage is that in the courtyard they have entered there are three more carriages like the one he travelled in. He isn't really given any time to take in his surroundings before the Grisha who tested him corral him towards the other carriages.

Behind the carriages, Ivan finds a few more adult Grisha and a group of other children. Other recently tested Grisha? There are eight of them in total, some looking afraid, others like they have been crying recently and some looking awestruck by their surroundings.

Ivan's face is hardened by the resolve to prove he is not some little child crying for his mother. He straightens his spine and only allows himself a brief look at the facade of the palace that will be his home before returning his attention towards the adults. There will be plenty of time to admire the architecture later.

"Alright, listen up!"

All the children turn their attention towards the woman clothed in a blue robe with red and yellow ornations who had spoken. She introduces herself as Katya, an Inferni, and launches into an explanation of their new life at the Little Palace.

Ivan listens attentively, not wanting to miss anything, until somebody tugs on his sleeve. Annoyed, he turns to find a boy of approximately the same age as him - Ivan notes that he is one of the few children that had seemed neither scared nor sad, but rather awed.

"What's your name?"

He cannot be serious. Ivan can't think of a single reason why this question couldn't have waited until after Katya is done talking; and to demonstrate just that, the only answer he gives the boy is a glare before he turns away again.

Later, when they have been led to the dormitories where they will be sleeping and everyone is busy unpacking, Ivan turns around from where he had been putting away his things to find the same boy in front of him once more.

"You know, you never did tell me your name."

Ivan just glares at him again, hoping the boy will take the hint. He doesn't have any particular urge to make friends with anyone here, much less this boy who is way too cheery, and, by the looks of him, a city merchant's child. He was fine on his own growing up, and he won't change that now.

Except the boy doesn't take the hint. And when Ivan doesn't answer he simply tries again.

"I am Fedyor. It is nice to meet you," he says and holds out his hand for Ivan to shake.

Ivan considers his options and finally replies with a curt "Ivan." He turns back around without taking the boy's - Fedyor's - hand. This time, he takes the hint and leaves Ivan alone.

-

Only Ivan realises too late that the boy's retreat meant in no way that Fedyor decided to leave him alone indefinitely.

It is hard to avoid him, considering they share a dormitory and Fedyor too is being trained to join the Order of the Corporalki. With his sunny disposition and his affinity for other people, everyone assumes that when the time comes, Fedyor will join the ranks of Healers; just like nobody doubts that Ivan himself will become a Heartrender.

After only a few days, Fedyor has made more friends than Ivan could care to count, but for some reason that evades him, the other boy still insists on pestering Ivan whenever he can. The other children quickly stopped trying to involve Ivan in conversations when they realised he had no interest in exchanging anything beyond the most basic information; but no matter what he does to discourage Fedyor from speaking to him, none of it seems to have any effect on him.

Whether they are in class, eating in the dining hall, or in combat training with Botkin, Fedyor always tries to strike up a conversation. At first, Ivan simply ignores him, still hoping he will be left alone.

But when weeks have passed, and Fedyor still hasn't given up talking to him, Ivan decides to try another strategy: give a non-committal answer and turn the question around on the other. That way, Fedyor will chatter away happily, and Ivan can simply tune him out.

The only flaw in this plan is that sometimes, Ivan finds himself actually listening to the other. And, as over time he gets to know more about Fedyor, he realises with a start that maybe he doesn't mind the boy's company so terribly.

Mind you, he still doesn't like him, and they're certainly not friends, even though Fedyor seems to think they are. But maybe he isn't the stuck-up city boy Ivan had first thought him to be, and maybe some of the things he has to say are actually interesting. Ivan stands by his assessment of "way too cheery" though.

-

The years pass by in a blur. Ivan excels in all his classes; the only one to rival him being Fedyor, who excels likewise. By the time they are fourteen, Ivan has gone from 'if I ignore him for long enough, maybe he will leave me alone' to begrudging acceptance of Fedyor's company, to actually actively contributing to conversations instead of letting Fedyor fill the silence by himself, to 'oh no, we ARE friends, aren't we?'

So when the time comes for them to choose their future, Ivan is the only one who isn't taken by surprise by Fedyor's decision to become a Heartrender rather than a Healer. They had talked about it once, late at night, and Fedyor had admitted that he didn't think he could spend the rest of his life as a Healer.

Ivan had been puzzled at first, because Fedyor simply didn't seem like the kind of person that would choose a path that would undoubtedly require him to kill someone. But Fedyor had explained that while he did loathe the idea of taking a life, he didn't want to be sitting on the sidelines either, watching his friends and fellow Grisha die, while he was helpless to defend them.

This was a feeling Ivan could understand, and after that night he regarded Fedyor with a new-found respect.

So they both begin their training as Heartrenders, alongside a boy named Viktor and two girls by the names of Sofia and Polina.

-

Ivan still excels in his classes, and soon establishes a reputation for his talent in hand-to-hand combat - besides Botkin himself, there is no one who can defeat him. His training with Baghra, on the other hand, is going less than exceptional.

He has no issues accomplishing the skills that require both hands equally, in fact, he takes to those rather well. It's the skills that rely on the more prominent use of one hand after the initial crossing of the hands that trouble him.

It's not that he doesn't know the movements, or is executing them incorrectly. He has practiced them so often that he could likely perform them perfectly in his sleep. But for some reason, no matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to move past the movements as a performance, doesn't achieve anything he's supposed to while going through the stances.

After yet another unfruitful session with Baghra (who had accused him of not even trying - despite the fact that he is trying so hard that he feels as though it might kill him to try any harder), he seeks out Fedyor.

He finds him sitting with Sofia and Polina, laughing at whatever Sofia is saying. Ivan finds that he doesn't want to ruin his good mood, so he turns to leave, but in that moment Fedyor looks up and spots him.

"Ivan!" he shouts, rather than speaks, despite the fact that Ivan is not standing very far from him. Polina, who is sitting next to him, is evidently not very happy about Fedyor yelling right next to her ear and shoves him away. Fedyor grins apologetically at the brunette before standing up and heading over to Ivan after bidding the two girls goodbye.

"Hey," he says as he walks up to Ivan, smiling brightly. Even after all these years, he is still way too cheery for his own good, but these days, instead of being annoyed by it, Ivan finds it to be comforting.

"Hey," he returns the greeting. "I didn't mean to interrupt you. Sorry."

"What? Oh, you didn't interrupt anything, don't worry! Besides," Fedyor adds, turning to look at Polina and Sofia, "I have a feeling these two don't mind me leaving them alone."

Ivan raises an eyebrow. But as he too regards the two of them, he sees what Fedyor means. They seem to be completely engrossed in their conversation, locked inside their own little world.

"So what are you up to? How did your hour with Baghra go?"

"Fine," Ivan lies, then immediately changes the topic to distract Fedyor, who, even if he noticed the skip in his heart's rhythm, lets him get away with it. "Spar with me?"

"Sure, why not?"

-

It's easy to lose himself in the rhythm of a fight, and that is exactly what Ivan needs right now. No time to replay Baghra's words over and over, no time to dwell on what a failure he's turned out to be -

In the very last second, Ivan realises that he would've almost hit Fedyor full force.

His fist stops in mid-air, then falls uselessly to his side. Fedyor too lets his arms drop and takes a step back, concern written on his face.

"Ivan?" His voice is soft, confusion evident in the way he says Ivan's name.

"Sorry, I -" he pauses, unsure how to say 'I was so angry with myself that I almost hurt you for real' without having to explain himself to Fedyor. "I wasn't paying attention."

"You've been doing that a lot lately," Fedyor remarks, almost casually.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Fedyor sounds skeptical. "You didn't even roll your eyes at my joke this morning, and I know you usually would have, because everyone else laughed. You're constantly distracted, even in class, and you're never distracted in class! I can tell that something's wrong, and I want to help, but I can't do that if you won't even admit that there's something going on with you."

"Nothing's wrong. I don't need your help, Fedyor," he replies, determined to make the other let this go.

"So which one is it?" Fedyor asks, eyebrows raised so high they disappear behind his messy fringe. "There's nothing wrong, or there is, but you don't want my help?"

Ivan is at an impasse. No matter which answer he chooses, he'd end up lying, and Fedyor would know. There is something wrong, and despite his first instinct being to deny anyone else's involvement in his own problems, he does want Fedyor's help.

But he shouldn't need it, should be fine on his own.

Apparently his silence stretches on for too long, because Fedyor seems to take it as an answer of its own.

"Alright, I get it." He's smiling still, because he always is, but Ivan doesn't need to be a Heartrender to know that he's hurt. "Don't worry, I won't mention it again."

And then he's leaving, and a part of Ivan thinks that he should just let him. But the years spent with Fedyor have almost completely extinguished that part, and every other part of him is screaming, making him run after Fedyor, calling his name.

"Fedyor wait, please."

Fedyor stops walking, but doesn't turn around, so Ivan continues.

"There is something wrong, and I do want your help." He pauses, struggles to find the right words. "I just don't think that there's anything you or anyone can do to help me."

At this, the other turns around. His hands are crossed like they have been taught in training, so he must know that Ivan wasn't lying, but still he finds himself afraid to look at his face, afraid that his truthfulness hasn't made a difference.

"You know," Fedyor says, "sometimes actually talking about it instead of silently suffering already helps immensely."

For a moment, Ivan considers disagreeing, because what good would complaining about it do? He should just try harder, practice more, not whine about his issues when he has been given an opportunity that few are granted.

But when he sees Fedyor's face, cautiously hopeful, he folds.

-

"Have you tried using the other hand?"

Ivan looks up from the book he's been using to study, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"What?"

Fedyor sits down next to him, not bothering to ask if he minds.

"For Heartrendering, I mean," he explains. "No one ever said that you had to use your right hand, you know?"

A few days have passed since their conversation in the courtyard, and though talking about it certainly hadn't provided him with a miraculous solution, Ivan had to admit that telling Fedyor had felt good. And now, whenever Ivan returns from his sessions with Baghra, Fedyor makes an effort to distract him from his thoughts.

"First of all, I'm quite certain you just made that word up." Ignoring Fedyor's look of pretended outrage, Ivan continues. "And no, I haven't. I'm right-handed, so there's no point to it."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?"

"I don't need to try to know it won't work," Ivan says, exasperated. "I told you, I'm right-handed."

"You learned to write with your right hand, yes. But in a fight, you always prefer your left side over the right." He pauses, shrugs. "Maybe the same is true for Heartrendering."

Ivan groans. "Will you stop using that word?"

The grin on Fedyor's face already tells him the answer before Fedyor gives it. "No. It's a great word, I like it."

"You are terrible." But the grin that has somehow formed on his face belies the words, even as he punches Fedyor's shoulder.

"Seriously though," Fedyor says, teasing tone gone, "there's no harm in trying."

"No, maybe not," Ivan agrees, "but there's no point in it either."

"But you don't even know that if you've never tried!"

"Fine. I will try." Ivan closes his book and puts it aside. "But when you realise that we're just wasting our time, you will let me study in peace, yes?"

Fedyor eyes him warily, probably surprised that Ivan has agreed at all, before he nods. "Alright. Try to slow my heartbeat - if it doesn't work, I won't bring it up again."

Eager to be done with this, Ivan assumes position, and crosses his hands. He knows the movements well enough to mirror them easily, and so he draws his left hand back instead of the right - and stops short when he realises that he can feel Fedyor's heart beat in his hand as though he was holding it.

Fedyor must feel it too, if the smile that spreads across his face is anything to go by. But Ivan doesn't feel like smiling at all.

He can feel his own heart speed up, and a weight settling in his stomach. He drops his hands, abruptly ending the connection to Fedyor, who is looking at him in concern. It is too much to take and Ivan - Ivan, who, even as a ten year-old, had never been anything but stoic in the face of the unknown - Ivan runs.

He runs, ignoring Fedyor calling his name, paying no attention to where his feet are carrying him. He runs, because it's the only way he can think of to escape the emotions that threaten to overwhelm him.

-

Fedyor finds him under the tree where they often go, staring dejectedly at his hands.

"May I?" he asks, gesturing towards the spot on Ivan's left. Ivan knows that he isn't only asking to sit down though.

A few years ago, Ivan wouldn't have hesitated to send him away. But present-day Ivan hasn't really been able to say no to Fedyor in a long time, and so he only shrugs.

Fedyor settles down next to him, but instead of asking about what happened as Ivan had expected he would, he stays silent. He knows that it is an offer to listen, but Ivan can't quite bring himself to speak.

They sit like that for a while - minutes, hours, Ivan isn't sure. By the time he finally manages to speak, the sun has already set, and they must've missed dinner.

Once he begins, it's like something inside him has broken, and he can't stop.

He tells Fedyor about his hometown, about Feliks and Irina, and the way they were treated by everyone as though they were somehow lesser because they were left-handed. He tells him about the way his father had acted as though he didn't even know him when he turned out to be Grisha, how his mother hadn't even looked at him while saying a performative goodbye.

And he admits that deep down, even though he knew that his parents would never want to see him again because he was Grisha, he had hoped that if he could be as normal as possible, then perhaps one day, if he served the army well, they could look past that.

Fedyor doesn't interrupt him, even when he struggles to continue, just lets him spill everything that has been weighing on his heart for so long.

It's only when he has finished that he speaks. "You know there's nothing wrong with being left-handed, right? It doesn't make you evil, or bad. It doesn't mean anything at all."

When Ivan doesn't answer, he continues.

"Hey, look at me." He waits until Ivan reluctantly does what he asked, then says: "You know Sofia is left-handed too, right? Do you think that that makes her evil?"

Ivan can't help but snort at that. Sofia is probably the only person he knows who could rival Fedyor's cheeriness and kindness, and is just about the farthest from evil one can get.

"Exactly." Fedyor looks just as pleased as he sounds. "So why would it be any different for you?"

Ivan struggles to come up with an answer, but finds that he can't. Still, he can't help but feel like being left-handed would burn the last remnants of the bridge to his parents that he's been holding onto for the past six years to the ground.

Fedyor takes his left hand into his, carefully, as though he expects Ivan to pull it away. "There is nothing wrong with you, alright? You are Grisha whether you're right-handed or left-handed, and from what you've told me, that's not something they are willing to forgive.

"You said they treated them as lesser for being left-handed? Prove them wrong. Everyone knows you could be the most powerful Heartrender in the Second Army one day, now it's up to you: will you become that Grisha, or will you keep holding yourself back for them?"

-

In his next session with Baghra, he uses his left hand instead of his right, and accomplishes everything she asks of him.

He leaves with an almost imperceptible smile on his face, her approving "There he is!" stuck in his mind. Somehow, Fedyor still catches the smile and positively beams with pride.

In that moment, Ivan finds himself thinking that no Sun Summoner could ever shine brighter than Fedyor does.

-

As it turns out, Fedyor was right. By the time they officially complete their training and take their last exams, even the General has taken notice of Ivan's abilities.

He completes the final examination using his left hand, and passes with flying colours.

Later, when they step away for a moment from the group of Grisha they had trained with, who are celebrating the official end to their training as well as their last night together before they receive their first assignments in the morning, they once more find themselves sitting under their tree.

Fedyor once more takes his left hand into his, considering it before asking: "Do I get to say 'I told you so' now?"

"No, you get to shut up now." Ivan rolls his eyes, but his tone betrays the fondness that he feels, but would never admit to anyone.

"But I did tell you s-"

Ivan surprises both Fedyor and himself as he uses his left hand that Fedyor is still holding to pull him closer and into a kiss. (But it does work to make Fedyor shut up.)

-

No one else is surprised in the slightest when they find the two sitting there a few hours later, asleep, their hands still intertwined. But no one would ever dare mention it for fear of facing Ivan's wrath.

[astrovian]

the official ranking of RA photoshoot outfits (pt. 1)

as @dykethorin​ said when I first proposed doing this particular ranking,  “Some real Decisions™️ were made” with these shoots y’all

all photoshoot outfits (for part one) under the cut

the official ranking of Daniel Miller outfits here

the official ranking of Adam Price outfits here

the official ranking of Claude Becker outfits here

guys, I’m crying with laughter

hey quick question: what the fuck was this photoshoot??? (and also I need current RA in these poses)

it’s real nice to see a fun, loosey-goosey RA (before he established himself in the broody-character archetype) but there are so many questionable fashion choices here

when I started this list I had two options:

1)     allow some leeway to the older photoshoots because, let’s be real, the early 2000s were an atrocious time for fashion that a lot of us would most rather forget we participated in

2)     judge them by today’s standards, which is harsh but some of these outfits deserve it

naturally, I chose option #2

It’s so hard to even pick where to start. the too-loose pants? the ill-fitting suit jacket? The untucked dress shirt that is for some god-forsaken reason undone in two separate directions??

I have chosen one thing that sums the outfit up as a whole: what monster decided to put the shirt collar over the suit jacket????

the jazz hands scream “hey I’m a FUN guy” but the suit screams “I’m the yo-pro asshole at the office who is so unreliable you’re pretty sure some nepotism must surely have had an influence during the hiring process”

I originally said ‘I guess we should be glad there’s no surfer necklace’ but then I had the horrifying realisation that it’s a 50/50 shot as to whether that would improve this outfit or make it worse. and you know when there’s even slimmest chance a surfer necklace could improve an outfit somehow that it’s time to take a good hard look at yourself

1/10 just because this photoshoot made me genuinely laugh out loud

wait I’m sorry, what-

how on god’s green earth is this the same photoshoot (?) as guys, I’m crying with laughter????

the great thing about these lists is that you are getting my genuine reactions as I progress down the images. I had no idea this was the same photoshoot (?) until approximately 10 seconds after writing guys, I’m crying with laughter

this perfectly encapsulates the duality of man – one moment it’s all goofy jazz hands and the next it’s a hunk-of-the-week moment

this man and guys, I’m crying with laughter are the equivalent of looking at pictures of yourself in high school vs. in your 20s/30s/at your prime. the whiplash is insane

and why is he in front of barred windows?? it appears they were afraid of what would happen if this hunk escaped into the general population

I still can’t believe they kept the collar over the suit jacket though

I’m so conflicted guys, the urge to numerically rank this terrible outfit is strong but uh… as per usual shirtless ones aren’t fair/10

revenge of the killer surfer necklace

do you ever look back at a specific moment in time and are so thankful that someone took one tiny action? one small thing they did in the heat of the moment that probably seemed innocuous at the time but had far-reaching consequences? for example, it might something as simple as deciding to take a umbrella on a bright sunny day only for it to be extremely useful on the way home when the weather turns

this is how I feel about the person who decided RA could leave that top button closed for this shoot

if you squint, you can see the surfer necklace under that top button. and thank god you have to squint

this is such an early 2000s look though. that shirt by itself is fine and would actually look killer with a properly fitted suit nowadays. it’s the shirt dress and loose denim look with makes no sense to me

2/10 for a pretty uninspiring early 2000s outfit

revenge of the uh… 

from the same shoot as revenge of the killer surfer necklace this loses .1 of a mark for adding a jacket, while pretty innocuous, to an already busy outfit

1.9/10

were we really that afraid of legs?

why were we, as a society, so obsessed with loose, ill-fitting pants? why were we so desperate to conceal legs from the general population? what secrets were we trying to hide? I understand the comfort factor on the hand, but on the other did anyone actually have eyes

the sneakers/suit combo I can definitely live with. but those pants (that I’m convinced must be pyjama pants in another life) turns it all into a sloppy, blurry mess

2.7/10

is it a bird? is it a plane? no, it’s… a floating RA?

what is it about photoshoots in the early 2000s where they just make no damn sense. it’s my opinion that the theme/concept of a shoot should not overshadow the subject, and that’s the correct opinion (as well as being the exact opposite as to what’s happening here)

maybe there was a hint or reason as to why floating wizard RA exists in the article that this shoot presumably came with, but I don’t get it. clearly I’m far too literal of a person and need to embrace my inner artist

looks pretty, still weird

moving on the entire point of this post, the outfit, I uh,… oh god

I’m pretty sure this the same (and similar, if not) outfit RA wore in the North & South behind-the-scenes, and how we as a society went from John Thornton’s stiff collar and top hat to this is amazing

maybe we were so obsessed with period dramas back then because it was a nice alternative to indulge our eyes in when we had to face the harsh, cold reality of modern fashion at the time

anyway – trust me, while I am all for a man in a necklace, let’s pray surfer necklaces never come back 2.9/10

I genuinely was looking up “pinstriped jacket jokes” because I couldn’t think of anything off the top of my head but then I realised I don’t need a joke here because pinstriped jackets are a joke all by themselves

I feel like there may be a situation where pinstriped suit jackets might grow on me, but this is not that situation

also I don’t really know where I stand on the belt, but I certainly think I’m leaning towards the ‘why’ part of the scale. if you’re gonna make a belt that prominent in a photoshoot, at least make it a fun belt

3/10

I’m noticing a trend in these photoshoots and it’s these horrific backgrounds

I will admit that the non-patterned suit jacket is going with the jeans a lot better here. but now that my attention isn’t focused on that, all I can see are the dress shoes. WHY DID YOU PUT DRESS SHOES WITH STRAIGHT-LEGGED JEANS???

please someone I am begging you, can we as a society get to tapered jeans already

3.3/10

did RA genuinely ever get put into any clothes that actually fitted him properly at this point in time?

look, I know I’ve been picking on the bootcut jeans & loose attire that plagued us in the early 2000s (or 2006, to be specific to this photoshoot). what can I say, it’s the low-hanging fruit. or loose-hanging, as the case may be

I do appreciate that rich brown leather jacket and that smile. but that’s where it stops. someone take dress shirts and dress shoes away from bootcut denim PLEASE

3.5/10

this is the bad-boy from your hometown in every rom-com ever

as with well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of below, the lower rating is simply because from what we can see, it’s just a plain shirt. however, that dipped v-neck? mm-mmm

look at that smirk. this man knows what he’s doing to us, dammit.

why do you persist in hurting us this way 4/10 

well this in an interesting development that I can’t say I disapprove of

god bless the person who said we need this shirt wet and clinging and only half-soaked

I’m so sad that I have to give this such a low ranking because uh… we’ve established I have a weakness for those biceps

this does also get bonus points for the creativity of “only this portion of your shirt needs to be wet for your close-up” but at the end of the day it is a solitary grey t-shirt even if it is floating in an attractive sea of muscles

4.5/10

the photographer really said ‘who gives a crap about the clothes’, huh?

an interesting shirt! but as much as I love RA’s face, we should be able to see more of the shirt (and the outfit) because uh… it’s hard to make a judgement call on a photoshoot outfit without that

also, it’s just so hard to concentrate on some of these with RA staring into my soul like that

*sigh* 4.6/10

hello sir, are you as kinky as your shirt?

this is one of the few occasions on which I will give the bootleg baggy jeans a pass. interesting choice to go shoeless for all outfits in this shoot – but the way the shirt is all crumpled is annoying me an incessant amount. I am begging you, someone pass this stylist an ironing board PLEASE

4.7/10 for a crinkle-cut RA

all that’s missing is the beer cans

I’m not sure of the short sleeves here. I think with the shirt open as well my brain doesn’t know where to look

HOWEVER, this is an RA from the early 2000s that I can get behind – largely because he’s not drowning in his denim

the nice, plain belt which matches with the shirt? excellent

interesting choice to go with the bare feet – this entire look (and the quality of that concrete floor) screams ‘we’re chilling at a summer party in your parent’s basement in the early 2000s’ if not for one thing – that couch is way too nice looking. am I being too pedantic about this? no. If you’re gonna go for the whole basement party look, you need a couch that’s falling apart and has at least one questionable stain on it

that being said, I would hang out in this man’s basement

it’s a shirtless one so once again, I cannot give a numerical answer/10

I’m not sure if this man is dangerous or is just an idiot

they may have been wanting RA to embrace his inner Daniel Miller here but that is NOT a jacket that should have its collar popped or if it is, it definitely should not be popped that much. just turn the intensity of that pop down by… at least 35%

this look is telling me to embrace my inner lacy, ruffled collar that men in England used to wear around the 1500 - 1600s. I hate it and refute it with every part of my soul

this is what happens when you embrace your inner Daniel a little bit too much 5.6/10

the return of the leg monster

not much to say about this except once again we are terrified to put RA’s legs into well-fitted pants. what secrets are hiding underneath those voluminous billows? will we ever know?

5.8/10

the one that crushed my hopes and dreams and then spat on my corpse

so I admit it, I got really excited because I thought that this was a leopard print shirt and I was like “this is something I did NOT know that I needed until right now”, even if I would argue that it could have been nice in a little bit of a brighter colour. no matter, I thought it was a nice subtle addition to this plain suit and was just very excited at the prospect of RA rocking leopard print even though I almost always hate leopard print in single every form it comes in

and then. upon zooming. a disappointing paisley. sorry, paisley lovers. I hate it

I would also argue here that the pocket square would have been nice in a plain, bright colour rather than another patterned item thrown into the mix. come on stylists, stop letting me down with your pocket squares

also if there is a point where a suit can be too shiny, I think we’ve found it. I could wax floors with that fabric and I’d rather be thinking about RA’s talent & good looks rather than imagining him being used as a human mop

the hand porn is uh… strong with this one 6/10

the hand porn one

the ring is a nice subtle touch but I can’t decide where I stand on this tie. for me, the checks are just a *wee* tad too small. so small that it I’m scared it will turn into one of those optical illusions with a number in it if I stare at it the tie for too long

the pocket square could also have not tried so hard to blend in with the rest of the suit jacket. give me some colour, baby!

Richard really needs to put his hand down so I can actually concentrate on the clothes 6.5/10

 I’m just dotty for this one (I’m so sorry y’all)

so suave. so shiny. I wanna stroke that fabric so bad, it looks so soft

the dots bring a nice yet understated touch to a monotone outfit and GOOD LORD those thighs

they just had to pose him like this to torture us, I’m convinced. also they call him a “commanding gentleman” in the subtitle which is really just unnecessary to verbalise when he’s sitting like this

Someone put me in a rom-com with this man 7.2/10

the modern magician (at least he ain’t floating this time)

I know that the hat should be the focus of this shoot but I can’t get over those shoes

tangentially related, I have never understood why they make men’s dress shoes so excessively long and pointed. these certainly aren’t a good example of this but uh… I don’t understand why men’s dress shoes are clown shoes

I think part of what’s throwing me off is the sockless look. normally I can handle (and even love) it with some shoes but there’s something about the hem of those jeans and those shoes that turn them into slippers when worn sockless

I love the two-tone scarf but what really excites me is the plaid shirt that we can barely see. I’m eternally sad that they had RA hid it in this pose. and also, come one. you could’ve at least gotten a chair with an actual back to it. that can’t be good for his back at all

the one bonus of this outfit is the hat because when do we ever get RA in hats?? and hats that aren’t baseball caps?? a nice, rare touch. but also one which hides most of that face so…

can we talk about the fact that my gut tells me those jean cuffs have been deliberately turned up at the front and all I want in life is to reach into this image and flip them down 7.5/10

*pterodactyl noises*

holy macaroni. that demin shirt. and this shirt’s even a nice lighter denim colour??? and the v-neck?? SIR

I know he’s worn some faux-denim shirts in the last few years (see: Uncle Vanya rehearsal pics) but as outerwear? knocked it out of the park in this one

also I know this is a shirt not a jacket, but this shirt made me think about how I never realised how much I needed RA in jean jackets until today

It could be argued that a nice crew neck cut would work slightly better than the v-neck but that’s really a personal choice

a lovely respite for my weary eyes 7.7/10

a truly, truly blessed image. the sort of image that would bring you endless good luck

I know I’ve given a lot of pants crap on this list but these. these are the ones. these are doing the lord’s work for sure. and god bless the person who decided to shoot from this particular side angle.

and then the shirt?? I’m honestly afraid it may rip if he moves. I could leave or take the tie though. it’s not adding a whole lot to this outfit and I would much rather that shirt be uh… open at the top for a glimpse of uh… well. you know.

this RA outfit laughs in the face of all those early 2000s RA outfits 8.1/10

me running to open my phone every time an RA-related notification pops up

my only sadness is that this shoot was in black & white. we need more action-shot RA shoots!

also the subtle plaid?? *chef’s kiss*

well, I said ‘my only sadness’ but is it also me or are both ends of that tie strangely square? that is throwing me off from an otherwise spectacular photoshoot outfit, I won’t lie

8.5/10 for a man of action

this is what we all like to think we look on the way to work. hate to break it to ya - we don’t

god, that wind-ruffled hair. the rustic look provided by both the suit material & the photo editing. that stare over the top of that coffee mug. the casual ‘I just picked up the paper on my way out this morning’

words fail me

would it be weird if I said I would pay money to be able to run my hands through anyone’s hair that looks as soft and wind-swept as that 8.9/10

the comfiest RA

I love. love. love this outfit, especially the sweater. the pant colour goes extremely well with this one and I’m so glad they didn’t just stick him in jeans. the is the softest, comfiest RA and I love it. this is an RA who you can simultaneously share a beer and takeaway with at home, cuddling up on the sofa while you watch a film, as well as an RA who will take you out to eat fancy pasta at an upscale restaurant.

the choice of sitting on a stool is also great. my only real gripe here is the watch (and even that’s a minor one, really). the watch isn’t THAT bad, but it’s chunky face reminds me slightly of the watches boys in my class would wear in middle school. the watch could be a *wee wee tad* slicker, but really, I’m nitpicking here (and this is the only time I will admit to it)

the more I look at it, the more this becomes one of my fav RA pics. the slight smile. the relaxed pose. the hint of hand porn

weirdly, for some reason this picture gives me the exact same comfy and ‘just chilling out’ feeling as when I hear the song “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer 9.5/10

[zhansww]

I’ve been wondering how exactly the misunderstanding of my last rambling post came to be and I think it’s cuz of one of two things; cuz I didn’t make it clear what I consider the word “queer” to mean or cuz I didn’t make it clear that the post itself was my own, subjective opinion. I’m not sure how consistent I’ve been with tagging it but I kinda differentiate between (what I think are) rational opinions I have vs emotional ones. The latter ones are obviously subjective and should not be taken as me, lecturing anyone or implying that everyone should feel the same. You either share the same sentiment or you don’t, there’s nothing wrong with it either way. And if my words in those posts seem hostile/condescending, it’s cuz I don’t feel the need to censor any of my subjective views/feelings. What I do think is important and what I try to pay attention to is not to let the negative emotions that certain things evoke in me control my actions. When I see something that I disapprove of in any way, I don’t hijack that post or report it. If my emotional reaction is particular strong, I’ll vent about it in my own post, not theirs. I considered this to be the decent thing to do but I’ve been told by at least one kind, respectful and open-minded person that I am actively making people’s lives worse with those posts, that my words are violent and that my behavior is that of an “unhinged monster” (the irony here is not lost on me). So I’ve been reflecting and I think the next time I feel a particular strong, negative emotion that makes me want to vent, I’ll put a disclaimer beforehand. And now, let me just actually clarify what my point was of that post. I believe that yz is real so I obviously do not assume they are straight. If they are indeed together, then they are queer - i.e. not straight - but that’s literally it. I have no theories or thoughts about what their specific orientation might be and I won’t ever speculate about that either. I wouldn’t mind knowing but unfortunately, they can’t be openly together right now but when they someday are, they’ll hopefully also feel safe and loved enough to share something like that with us. I know for a fact that figuring out your sexuality is a confusing and intimate process which is why I am opposed to speculating about it. I consider it to be too intrusive. But again; that is my subjective opinion based on my own experiences. I do not expect everyone to share this sentiment. One person said that I should expect such speculation and that might be true, maybe I should expect it but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Seeing certain bxg get mad at solos for assuming yz are straight but then turn around and assume they are [insert any specific sexuality except het] is hypocritical and disappointing in my opinion. I think it’s perfectly fine to have such emotional opinions as long as you don’t let those emotions cloud your judgement and lead to you, reacting in a way that is unreasonable and possibly harmful. I also think that everyone should be willing to have their rational opinions questioned but when it comes to an emotional opinion, it doesn’t have to make sense and it’s probably not gonna change either. To give another example; I hk disapprove of yz r/p/f. And that’s not me, saying it is inherently wrong and that no one should do it. In fact, you could try to make a case about how I should like it and approve of it but it wouldn’t make me change my mind precisely because this opinion is not based on logic but just on emotion. And again, as long my emotional reaction to something doesn’t lead to unreasonable actions, then the emotion itself is alright to have. And like I already said, I thought it was okay to vent those emotions in my safe space but apparently, it isn’t. No one should take those posts personally or like I’m talking to them or lecturing them. I thought that this was all obvious but since I got told otherwise, I will be more concise from now on.

You know, when someone starts a “discussion” by insulting you (implicitly or not), that’s usually a clear sign that they’re not even trying to understand you. I’ve seen at least one person reblog the reblogs and seemingly take some kind of vicious pleasure in seeing someone else sh-t on me. Something like that leads me to think that they already had a negative impression of me to begin with which is why their minds gladly misunderstood me and jumped to the worst possible conclusion. They also all seemed to either ignore my explanations or seemed intent on misunderstanding me, no matter what. To be clear, I don’t blame them entirely for it because I could have expressed my point better but for them to immediately think their misunderstanding is the right one - instead of asking me to explain myself perhaps - is also wrong. Mind you, I don’t expect those people to see or care about this post. The main reason I’m trying to clarify myself is for myself. I said I’ll try to be more concise in expressing my views (regardless of whether it’s a subjective one or not) from now on and I thought I should let this be the start of that. There was one reply in particular that ... affected me a lot harder than I thought anything could. I think it’s cuz my depression already makes me feel like I’m a waste of space 24/7. One thing I take comfort in, though, is the fact that, at the very least, the only one who’s hurting because of it is me, no one else. At least I don’t hurt others. But I got told otherwise. I got called an unhinged monster. The unhinged part is true but also being a monster... it made me feel like I’m less than a waste of space. Like, let’s say if normal people always feel like a 1, I always feel like a 0. Getting insulted like that made me feel like a -1. Instead of feeling like a read newspaper, that’s just waiting to get thrown in the trash, that insult made me feel like I’m the asbestos in the house, something that is actively harmful and you need to get rid of. Does that make sense? Anyway... I engaged in “discussions” despite my better judgement and now, I have to pay the price for it so I also decided that I won’t do that again. Hopefully, there won’t even be any more misunderstandings but if there are and someone hijacks my posts and insults and/or willfully misunderstands me, I will just block them. For my own sanity. And for the record, if there’s something in this or any of my subjective/emotional posts that can be misunderstood, that I didn’t make clear enough; please feel free to ask me about it. Please don’t immediately think the worst of me. And when it comes to my more objective/rational opinions, I am always open for discussions as long as we can remain respectful throughout.

I would also like to express my gratitude to anyone who reached out. I’m not sure if the damage can be undone to be honest (it doesn’t feel like it right now) but anyone who offered words of advice, understanding, support or kindness helped soften it. I cannot express how grateful and appreciative I am for it all, any replies or private messages. You helped make me feel less shitty and I thank you so so much. I’m definitely gonna save all the mental health advice cuz I really did not know how to deal with that overwhelming desire to... stop existing in that moment and I want to keep it in mind if (or when) I get affected this badly by something again. I intend to also reply to the messages privately ofc but for now, please accept all of my love and gratitude~

I’m gonna put the rest - which is more personal - under a cut and also tw cuz I’ll elaborate on my mental health/depression. This isn’t exactly something I want to share tbh but I think I shouldn’t shy away from it either. And I feel like I need to explain myself, just for anyone who cares to know.

—

If you compare life to walking on a path, then I at some point - I don’t even remember when - stopped walking and starting digging a hole for myself. It musta been years ago. Right now, that hole is so deep that I have no idea how to get out of it on my own, much less how to move forward. I think I always knew that there must be something wrong with me mentally. This isn’t something that is being talked about in my family, though, so I never extensively thought about it. Not until earlier this year, when my sister told me that she thinks I’m sick and I should see a therapist. My immediate reaction was to reject the idea but I really couldn’t do that for long. As of right now, I have been tentatively diagnosed (not sure if that’s what you call it in English) with depression but I haven’t actually found a permanent therapist and therefore also not started therapy yet. I have no idea what exactly is wrong with me and this not-knowing makes it somehow worse. I haven’t been properly functioning for the past two days - ever since I got called unhinged monster - cuz those words are burned into my brain by now and keep repeating themselves. It feels like my mind was given another weapon to slowly k-ll me with. It keeps reminding me that that’s what I am and then I start trembling and my breathing gets weird and it’s harder than usual for me to distract myself. And this is all so overwhelming for me, I have truly no idea how to deal with any of it. I don’t even know if I named it right, if it really is called a “depressive episode”. I’m hoping I’ll get to find out what exactly is wrong with me and how I can cope with it once I find a therapist. My lack of knowledge regarding what I myself am going through makes it all very confusing and difficult. Another reason why I kind of organized my thoughts and wrote them all down here is cuz I hope it will help me somehow, make my mind stop letting those really bad thoughts in. But in that moment when I felt especially f-cked up, any words of advice or kindness helped. I hope everyone who reached out knows that. Just... thank you. So damn much.

[etirabys]

The solution to “the lesbians I read about aren’t horrible enough” is, of course, to roll your own. Here’s what I’ve been dreaming up recently (warning: this story idea was simply formed by throwing together every lesbian fiction nutrient I currently feel deprived of, I have not designed it to be ‘good’ at all):

Frances Hareva is a military strategist for the ruling planet of an interplanetary civilization, Mars Delta. Actually, she’s not the military strategist – Zlanna is. Zlanna is the AI who takes input from a massive interplanetary surveillance network and provides most of the brainpower for the job. But the values and core decisionmaking is provided by a human hooked up to Zlanna, who is constantly trained for alignment with the collective will of her planet. Some three years into this extremely demanding job that's damaging her brain in certain ways, Frances orders a hit on a ruling family of a rebellious colony planet, Ftam Quedir. She leaves alive the adoptive daughter, Safi.

Safi is a product of heavy genetic engineering, and Frances predicts she will become an influential moderate representative of pro-gene-engineering, an ethical and material issue that's promising to be divisive enough to lead to interplanetary war. Frances has had very little meaningful human contact for several years, and while doing a job that involves spying on millions of people, some of the people she watches have drifted into the friend-shaped hole. Something that is not quite apparent to her superiors, or to Frances herself until she recommends/orders the assassination, is that she’s become very fond of Safi while surveilling the Quediram clan, and has clouded judgment about her.

Soon after making that call, Frances has a nervous breakdown that impedes her relationship with the AI, and is quietly shipped off to a university to spend all her efforts getting an art degree under a false name, which her superiors figure is a humane way of getting rid of her in a way that doesn't embarrass them.

Safi had an ambiguous relationship with her family, who took her in and gave her a very good life, but also were terrible in some ways. Several months into growing into an interplanetary activist of the exact type that Frances expected her to be, Safi realizes that someone meant to set her on this life path by killing her family, rage quits, and disappears from the public eye. She spends time tracking down everyone involved in the hit so she can ruin their lives. She's 18 and a hothead, more than Frances knew.

Frances is on the top of the hit list, so Safi enrolls in the university she's hiding out at as an undergrad (thereby, yes, making this a college fic – look, I've always wanted to write one), also in disguise. She manages to make contact with Frances by enrolling in a class with her. Frances obviously recognizes her but has no idea what Safi is doing here; Safi's first layer of disguise to almost everyone is "normal vaguely foreign student", her second layer of disguise to Frances specifically is "Safi, but she wants a normal life for a while and an education on the ruling planet, and has no idea who Frances is".

There's some dancing around for a while where Safi befriends Frances, maybe roping her into some intensive and actually interesting school project. Safi spends these months trying to ruin Frances's life in RELATIVELY MUNDANE, PETTY WAYS like guilt-tripping her, getting her apartment burgled, and outing her in a planetary culture where being a lesbian is mildly to moderately stigmatized because it's strongly associated with the semi-fringe monarchist movement, all while observing her to design a coup de grace optimized to make Frances as miserable as possible. Meanwhile, in normal life, they are forming a surprisingly strong connection. (They may make out a bit at this point, Safi arranging it so that Frances immediately turns her down but gets flustered and guilty about it, because Safi is playing a sexually inexperienced undergrad who'll be crushed if the first gay contact she tries to make goes badly.)

Safi quickly figures out that, after all that work tracking down her nemesis, Frances is a total wreck of a person who isn't at all satisfying to ruin because she’s already a huge mess. Lots of rage sloshing around with nowhere to go. Also by this point they definitely want to bang each other and are horrified by it. There's a big confrontation where they shed their secret identities, where Safi really lays it in and then leaves. Frances, in the aftermath, decides that her redemption lies in shaping up and being a satisfying enemy for Safi to take down, and so does everything she can to get herself together and become the perfect political rival...

("Eti, please stop, we get it, you kink on –")

With Frances taking the lead on the shape of their new relationship, Safi steps into the dance, into a Locke-and-Demosthenes dynamic where what they say in public is largely reflective of real personal differences in opinion, but also a deliberate partnership to optimize the debate between them itself to lead their civilization away from war. They do this without ever coordinating personally on their goals.

(They say things like "That said, Miss Frances, I cannot wait to take your argument apart. You have published a 35 page supplementary tract on your views since then and I have read it with interest. ... Attached is my 44-point list of objections, follow up questions, and what I believe to be convincing takedowns to the general Mars Deltan audience with an open mind.")

// At this point I lose conviction in what happens next – I’ve filled something out but it’s not inspired, the stuff I really care about is [gestures above].

This is the case for the next several years or so. They are completely and stupidly obsessed with each other and spy on each other. Safi goes and has a defiantly prolific sex life, hoping that Frances will be upset about it. Frances, incidentally, is not, but she tries to return the favor by going on some dates (which Safi does get het up about) although she's too demi to actually sleep with anyone. Eventually, they start a secret line of correspondence – probably Safi starts it after Frances misses too many therapy appointments and says something snippy about it – that over time turns into what's undeniably love letters.

At some point, one of them has a real personal crisis and the other one just materializes at their doorstep. The one who's having a crisis ignores everyone else, grabs their visitor's hand, and pulls her into the bedroom. They don't leave for a couple of days.

More faffing about Whether We Can Do This, which is rendered moot by the fact that they find it impossible to stay away from each other. Agony. Frances comes up with a long, multi-year plan for arranging their public lives to intersect in a way that naturally culminates in their getting married. Safi shoots off five emails arguing about the pre-nup and quibbling about the strategy, before belatedly realizing that Frances just proposed marriage and Safi... wanted it so obviously much that she never even considered contesting the premise of the plan.

There are some hiccups but they execute this fine and get married. Oh shit oh shit oh shit what now. Frances might be sufficiently neuroatypical that, Derek Parfit style, she can't handle actually living with her spouse and they largely conduct their relationship over the phone and meet once a week to talk irl, cuddle, and fuck.

[innovativestruggles]

Daisuke & Suzue’s Relationship - A Consolidation Post

Hey gang, so given that we have 2 episodes left and absolutely zero idea as to what Daizue’s relationship is, I have decided to put together a spectrum of information. A lot of the stuff I am posting here have already been speculated to some degree, but it is nice to have it all in one big post where you can see what’s been gathered so far.

When I write about speculations, I always base everything on canonical evidence. Of course, there will be elements of personal bias and opinions intermeshed within, but I will try and separate facts from opinions as much as possible so that you can also draw your own conclusions.

For the purpose of this post, I will exclude all novel content, considering the anime is vastly different from the novel. I will start with the OP and work my way towards Episode 9. Originally I was going to wait until Episode 10 to complete this post, but I decided that it probably wouldn’t matter, considering Daizue’s relationship may not be revealed until Episode 11 and they most likely would be focusing on the battle with Shigemaru in Episode 10 rather than delve any deeper into Daizue’s relationship.

WARNING: This is a long post

The Opening

I want to look at this from the perspective of a complete newbie, who has zero knowledge of the novel or what the fandom is speculating. When looking solely at the OP, this is how it is seen;

1. Suzue is a beautiful character who is heavily sexualised

2. The show centres around a handsome rich boy with unlimited money

3. Selling the idea of sassy detective work

Suzue plays the perfect Bond girl trope. From the way she is shown in the OP in lingerie, to being tied to Daisuke’s car, to being bridal carried at the very end. As a newbie watching this OP, all I see is, hot rich guy and his hot, sexy, gorgeous sidekick woman whom he develops a sexual relationship with. 

If we all take a step back and just see the bigger picture, anyone, including non-anime watchers, who look at this OP would immediately associate Daisuke and Suzue as some sort of couple/love interests or two characters with immense sexual tension. There is no doubt about that.

So what am I trying to say here? Well, it is clear as day that the FKBU creators were deliberate in the way they showcased Daizue’s relationship. The OP is a foreshadow of what is to come or it implies the way the entire show is set out. 

But y’know...to me, the biggest foreshadow was that bridal carry!

Oops...wrong one...I meant this one below 😏

Episode 2

We are skipping Episode 1 as Suzue did not debut until Episode 2.

1. Suzue’s introduction She introduced herself as Suzue Kambe. That was it. Normally, whether it be in an anime or manga, a person would introduce themselves and their relationship (whether directly or indirectly), to another character. This was deliberately left out to keep viewers guessing.

2. Daisuke’s non-existent response Daisuke did not elaborate on his relationship with Suzue. Remember when Haru said something along the lines of “a woman with black hair entered this building,” to which Daisuke replied “woman with black hair you say?” There was no further explanation of who Suzue was to him or how they knew each other, or what sort of relationship they have.

3. Haru’s question was diverted When Haru asked Suzue, “who the hell are you?” Suzue’s response was “I’ve been following Daisuke’s orders...” Again, no further elaboration/explanation. The question was also diverted and she did not properly answer his question.

4. Haru’s assumption Haru made the assumption, as we found out in Episode 4, that Suzue and Daisuke are married. But this was not explored at the time in Episode 2. Again, another deliberate attempt to conceal information, considering we did not even get to see Haru’s assumption of Daizue’s relationship at the time.

5. Suzue’s use of Daisuke’s name No use of nii-san or nee-chan to indicate a sibling relationship and no honourifics were used. The interesting thing here was, Suzue was shown to drop the honourifics from Daisuke’s name in only this episode. Whether it was a mistake or a deliberate attempt to drip feed viewers information at the time, we don’t know. But let’s just say it was a deliberate attempt on the creators part - it needs to make sense. What I’m trying to say here is that Suzue should be in a relationship close enough to Daisuke to be able to drop the honorific but also be in a professional/lower position to continue addressing him with ‘sama.’ So in essence, Daisuke and Suzue’s relationship is most likely more complex than meets the eye.

6. Suzue’s professionalism Daisuke and Suzue’s relationship is too formal and professional to be considered to be some kind of sibling/family/close relative situation. Suzue works for Daisuke. That is the end point. She follows his every instructions and obeys all his orders. Even if she were a Kambe, she has to be a very, very, very distant relative to even submit to that level of obedience. If she were a closer relative but of a lower ranking than Daisuke’s family, there is absolutely no way she would be put in such a subservient position (more on this later).

Based on the 6 above points, personally, what I see is a deliberate attempt to create drama amongst fans lmao! But jokes aside, you cannot take it on face value that they are just relatives (or siblings at the time when it was first released) because as you can see, there are so many clues in this episode alone that does not make any sense.

Episode 3

Suzue only made a brief appearance here but I’d like to add a couple things.

1. Grandma’s focus on Daisuke Grandma barely acknowledged Suzue, and given that Suzue herself is a Kambe, I find this incredibly odd. Grandma was very focused on Daisuke, from his work relationship to his behaviour, and Suzue was...ignored.

2. Grandma explicitly stated to Haru about Daisuke that she is “his grandma” This piece of information was only available in the English subtitles. Remember that in Japanese language, there is no ‘his’ or ‘her.’ It is gender neutral. But I take it that the subtitles are official subtitles which gave us a bit more of a clue into Daizue’s relationship. We know at this stage here that Grandma is only Daisuke’s grandma and not Suzue’s.

With the above 2 points, if Suzue were a sibling or a closer relative, there would be more focus on her too. And I know the show is about Daisuke and Haru, so why would Suzue get any attention? But precisely this is the reason! Because the show centres a lot around the Kambe family conflict and you would think Suzue would be more involved in this conflict if she were closely related. But she is not involved. To me, this just screams outsider. Poor Suzue.

Episode 4

Alright, here we go on this roller coaster episode. 

1. Suzue addressed Daisuke as ‘Daisuke-sama.’ Kudos to know this because no bloody sibling would say this shit to their elder sibling. So that theory has been written off long ago now. 

Anyways I’d like to point out that there are times where lower members of a family, known as ‘branch’ families, would address the head family with polite honourifics. It’s quite rare nowadays in modern Japan, but in saying that, richer more exclusive families may still tend to do this and some still fight over the title of head of family. So in essence, anyone who succeeds as head of family (together with their immediate family) will obviously be addressed with polite honourifics. 

Just to let you know, branch families can either be closer relatives or very, very distant relatives (so distant that it is negligible they are related to the head family). We don’t know how big the Kambe family is and what the dynamics are like when it comes to the next successor. The bigger the family, the more likely members will want to fight over the title for head of family - usually once when the current head of family and their immediate family are all dead. What I’m trying to point out here is that Suzue may well still be a relative (I’m not gonna deny that during this first point I’m making), considering the above explanation I just made.

2. Daisuke did not elaborate on the type of relative Suzue was to him Another obvious one here. The creators love playing games with the viewers. The fact that Daisuke did not elaborate on his relationship with Suzue was a huge red flag. In the sense that we do not know whether Suzue is a close relative, a distant relative, married into the Kambe family or adopted. The creators are still keeping the viewers guessing!

3. Daisuke’s body language and expression This may be more opinionated base, but you can make judgements for yourself by rewatching the scene again. When Daisuke tells Haru that Suzue is a relative, there was almost a stilted, discomforting demeanour, as if he did not want to discuss the topic. This was heavily exacerbated and reinforced by his tone of voice, which may indicate he could be hiding something?

4. Haru’s assumption that Daisuke and Suzue are married Considering the fandom thinks Daizue look so similar, Haru clearly didn’t. So on his end, they looked more like husband and wife than siblings or relatives..

5. Suzue’s infatuation with Daisuke It was too obsessive. Lovey dovey and just ... plain questionable. I mean, Suzue could still be a relative and do this but the way it was set up was very jarring. As in, Suzue displays a sense of professionalism and obedience towards Daisuke that screams master and servant - not infatuation. 

Normally in anime shows where a character is infatuated over another, there isn’t that simultaneous level of professionalism displayed between the characters. So whether the character is a relative or not, it would be believable. But in Suzue’s case, professionalism + infatuation + relative does not make any sense to me. Also, Do NOT confuse loyalty with professionalism! They are two separate things. Suzue displays both! Characters you see in other anime may display loyalty and infatuation. The biggest incongruence to me with regards to Suzue is the infatuation and professionalism!

From something like this...

To something like this...

6. Suzue attended to Daisuke’s everyday needs Honestly if this wasn’t the most jarring thing, I seriously don’t know what was. I swear, not even the lowest member of a branch family would attend to a head family’s every day needs like a servant/maid. It makes no sense. Considering Daisuke is rich enough to have multiple maids that could attend to his every day needs, and that his butler Hattori could probably do what Suzue does, I do not understand the need for Suzue to do all these personal things for Daisuke.

7. The anime creators deliberately did this episode in a way that would confuse fans even more When you add: Daisuke saying “Suzue is a relative” + Suzue’s weird infatuation + addressing Daisuke with ‘sama’ = you are going to get the biggest explosion of confusion. 

It almost felt like the creators wanted to balance things out for the viewers. That is, “I want Daisuke to say Suzue is a relative, but I also don’t want the viewers to think she is a relative either.” There you go, they nailed it with this episode.

8. Daisuke cooked for Suzue At first I didn’t think much of this scene other than Daisuke’s weird way of making up to Suzue for being petulant LOL. But then I thought about how Grandma and butler were just standing there, uninvited to eat food made by Daisuke...it just goes to show that Daizue’s relationship runs a lot deeper than meets the eye. More important than Grandma that is for sure.

Episodes 5 and 6

Suzue did not make much of an appearance in these two episodes, but what I continued to see was the undying loyalty and continued professional relationship between Daisuke and Suzue. Despite Suzue’s injury in Episode 5, she continued to assist Daisuke (or tried to) in a manner that screams ‘I am forever your servant. Ask and ye shall receive’ kinda vibe LOL 

When she knows Daisuke is safe, Suzue keeps her cool, calm demeanour and powers on with the professionalism, but that weird infatuation kicks in otherwise... what an odd relationship they have...

Episode 7

1. The lack of Suzue in the family photos No Suzue could be seen in the family album. And yes, some people pointed out the baby in the ‘pink’ onesie was Suzue. Could be. But highly doubt it. Someone mentioned that the onesie used to be red but faded over time to a pinkish colour because it has been more than 27 years. That’s also a plausible explanation. Tbh, that entire photo album just screamed Daisuke.

2. All other photos pointed to the fact that Daisuke was raised as an only child No Suzue present or any indication that she was there at the time those photos were taken

Episode 8

Oh boy, the fun episode LOL

1. You can try and see it both ways here.

a. Suzue was just trying to warn Daisuke about HEUSC. That was all. Nothing else.

b. Definitely fanservice. Suzue could have done this in so many other ways. It was obviously a deliberate part on the creators’ side to bring forth a sexually suggestive scene that really further questions Daizue’s relationship. And the way they zoomed in on certain features (yeah we love their lips almost touching and Suzue’s ass in the air whilst her legs were pressed in between Daisuke’s) perhaps suggested something more explicit between the two (or implied to be in the future), but then again, the zooming in of their lips could just emphasise HEUSC’s ability to lip read rather than anything sensual. But ya know, I reckon it probably was both. 

Again, this whole scene puts more question marks on their relationship as to ‘What kind of relatives are they?’ or ‘Are they really relatives?’ or ‘What is their true relationship?’

**

Zooming in on Suzue moving her ass and legs in between Daisuke was completely unnecessary unless they are implying something sexual. Yeah goodbye.

This was obviously more necessary to describe HEUSC’s ability to lip read...but the way it was zoomed in and emphasised between them...

2. The creators made Haru see Daizue walk out the room A hugely obvious attempt at forwarding Daizue’s relationship. I mean, putting Haru in that position completely threw the spanner in the works. He was obviously informed by Daisuke that Suzue “is just a relative,” yet he saw them walk out from Daisuke’s bedroom looking all...well...looking like they just had the most amazing time in there. 

Even though it was obvious to us viewers what Haru was thinking, we were never shown Haru questioning the situation in relation to ‘Wait a minute, didn’t Daisuke say she was a relative? What the f did I just see then?’ We don’t get that point of view from Haru so we don’t know what he was speculating in relation to their relationship. I mean, Haru could just be as confused as we were! The only advantage Haru got over us viewers was that he could have just asked them for more clarity around their relationship. Clearly he was just being too polite lmao

3. Daizue did not attempt to clarify the situation I mean, unless they were both stupid and seriously thought Haru wouldn’t think they got up to no good, despite it being so clear as day that Haru thought otherwise, they did not say anything. Again, another deliberate part on the creators’ side to create further confusion. They really like making Daizue keep their mouths shut when it comes to anything to do with their relationship backstory...

**

The creators went one step further and made Daisuke adjust his shirt. LOLOL

And even further by making Suzue’s hair all messy and dishevelled...

4. Suzue mentioned ‘your father and mother’ to Daisuke when discussing HEUSC Big red flag here that would completely forever bury the sibling theory. It sounds to me that Daisuke and his family are very separate from Suzue.

Episode 9

We are in the present now!

1. Daisuke tells Grandma that only the Kambe family, that is, he himself and Grandma, could infiltrate the system This may imply that Suzue is not a true Kambe or she may have been adopted into the family. It would also help discredit the theory that she may be a lower ranking member of the Kambe family/a branch family of the Kambe. It may also imply that Daisuke may have been hiding something from Haru about Suzue when he said ‘Suzue is a relative’ or he was outright lying.

Other materials

Their appearances

On surface level, they do have some similarities but if you look a bit closer, their eye colour is different (Daisuke’s is a deep blue and Suzue’s is more violet), hair colour is different (Daisuke’s is more black and Suzue’s is more charcoal) and eye and eyebrow shape are different. Tbvh, if they made Suzue’s eye and hair colour completely different, you would see the contrast more. It’s just that the creators deliberately designed the two this way to evoke more confusion.

Concluding opinion: It is obvious to me that the creators are drip feeding us information about Suzue. Here with this post, even when analysing it on a spectrum, I gathered two things from it over time.

a) Suzue is not a blood relative

b) The relationship between Daisuke and Suzue is a lot more complex

Just remember that Daisuke trusts Suzue with his life. So the level of mutual understanding and trust between the two is incredibly profound.

Again, these are all very speculative and a lot of the fandom have garnered their own information over the course of the episodes. This is what I (and a lot of DaiSuzu fans) have dissected so far. 

Although the entire show is centred around Daisuke and Haru and their detective work with regards to the Kambe family, I feel like Daizue’s relationship is like that mini side story. Whether they will delve into it or not in the next two episodes is anyone’s guess really. As I said earlier, if anything, the reveal would most likely occur at the very end of Episode 11.

Anyways, share your thoughts and feel free to refute! But PLEASE, be respectful.

P. S. I will keep adding to this if I think of more stuff. It’ll be part of a new “edit section.” I’ll just reblog it so people can see it easier!

[thejustmaiden]

Why do you think Sunrise did that event in with Sesshomaru and Rin's VAs mirroring InuKag? They have already done that CD Drama, do you think they did that to give hope to the shippers? What if after so many hints, if they reveal in the anime that Sessrin isn't canon, aren't the shippers gonna be disapointed? This may be a dumb question and your answers are always smart and well-articulated, but i seriously don't understand their marketing strategy, do you care to explain for me?

Oh, hey there! I appreciate all the love you've been leaving on my blogs lately. I really hope I'm able to give you an answer you're satisfied with. Sorry it took some time to get back to you. I hope this makes up for it. 🙏

I'm not gonna lie, I'm up and down about how I feel about that livestream and what it means for the future of this ship. My brain has been on roller coaster mode since basically the moment the sequel was announced. We're in the home stretch now, and we better get the answers WE WANT the second that sequel comes out. Since it's evidently not going to happen anytime sooner- welp!

Before the livestream aired, I really thought us fans were on the verge of discovering the mom and that it was going to be Rin. We still had hope she wasn't, but at the same time most of us antis were "bracing for impact." lol

Then nothing happened.

We were pretty shocked but obviously relieved. The days before it came out, I was telling others (as well as myself lol) that just because Sesshomaru and Rin's VAs had a livestream together doesn't confirm anything. Besides, why does that have to automatically mean that both pairings need to be romantic? We all know how integral these characters are/were to each other's storylines, so these pairings make the most logical sense, wouldn't you say?

In the previous livestream with the voice actors who play Inuyasha and Kagome, they discuss the new character Moroha and introduce her as Inuyasha AND Kagome's daughter. Now let's compare that to the other livestream with Sesshomaru and Rin's VAs. When they described Towa and Setsuna, they did so as Sesshomaru's daughters NOT Sesshomaru and Rin's daughters. That to me is the most telling piece of evidence.

Like how could they not use that prime opportunity to tell us Rin's the mom when her voice actor was literally sitting right there??! We were all expecting it and they still insisted on giving us nothing! What this tells me is that it's possible this mom is a new character, and it even appears she is quite pivotal to the new series. I keep changing my opinion on that part though to be honest with you, because sometimes I think she won't be important at all in the grand scheme of things. (See what I mean about being up and down? lol) Idk about you, but it seems to me like we haven't even met her character. If it was Rin, why keep it a mystery? It's not like Sessrin's popularity is exactly a secret in this fandom. Why wait until the big reveal if it's "so obvious" in the first place? How does Sunrise benefit from hiding this information?

If it does end up being Rin, it would've been better to just come out and say it. If this ain't just pure fanbait like some of us still hope it is, why hold back? Give 'em what they want already and let us antis be at peace. If they hope to think that I'll change my mind and give this sequel a go just because I've waited this long so might as well, they're sorely mistaken. If anything, I'm going to be pissed they kept us in the dark this long when they could've just saved us all the trouble. I imagine that goes for a lot of us, shippers and antis alike. Whatever way you look at it, I won't be invested in this sequel if Sessrin goes canon- period. I cannot and will not be on board with a series that promotes such a harmful and insulting dynamic.

Which brings us to Sunrise's marketing strategy. Well, I definitely think they have been catering to the fans of this ship for quite some time now. Because, ya know, money. Whether that's because they plan to make this ship canon or not remains to be seen. "Show meee the moneeeeyyyy!" *yells in Jerry Maguire*

There was first the drama cd and more recently that calendar which included art of adult!Rin with Sesshomaru, but neither of those are canon first off. Also, does anyone know if it was actually confirmed to be pro-Sessrin fan art? I mean, I know it doesn't look very good when the artist who made it is a Sessrin shipper and certain fans are fawning over their OTP, but that doesn't necessarily mean the calender automatically is either last I checked. I wonder why it can't simply be Rin as an adult visiting with Sesshomaru. I believe in one picture she's seen giving him a flower, much like little Rin would've done, or just as any child does for a loved one. So if Rin is still bringing him flowers as an adult, I would assume that means their relationship dynamic hasn't changed at all. That's what's supposed to happen, too! If an adult's relationship was established with another person while they were just a child, then that adult will always view them as a child no matter what and vice versa. Even when those children become grown-ups, that won't change. That's just how things are, or how they're supposed to be rather. In other words, a normal healthy adult-child bond does not resemble one like Sessrin.

Both Sessrin fans and antis agree there haven't been any romantic implications between Sesshomaru and Rin in the original series. That's why I can't understand for the life of me why we're even having this discussion. Alas, here we are. This is what happens when society has conditioned us to believe that the only proper (aka "best") way an adult male and a young female's closeness can evolve is with romance. So maybe it's not obvious at first (because that would be illegal), but we should EXPECT their relationship to shift in that direction. Why, you ask? Well, simply because sexualizing young girls is the norm so why not, right? No clues or foreshadowing required! Because like I just said, that would be illegal. Fiction has loopholes for this kinda stuff, so problem solved?

Nope! Aging her up counts too, folks! When you look at a girl character and the first thing you think is, "I can't wait till she grows up so she can f*ck" then, yeah, you're a part of the problem. You may not realize it, but you are. That's not to say you're a bad person or that it's even your fault, just saying that there are times in all of our lives where we start to question some of our beliefs. If you not only support but desire the idea of a romance eventually forming between a grown man- yes, 19 is an adult- and a young girl, then you should probably ask yourself why that may be and re-evaluate. Please stop using cultural differences and history that dates back almost a thousand years to justify this so-called tradition.

"You all shouldn't think too deeply about this, it's just fiction! Ugh, you're ruining the fun! Antis should all just shut up! Only we can have problems, but when you do it's just complaining!"

Right....

And by the way, most of us are not even complaining. We're being critical of the content we're watching. Criticism isn't always pretty unfortunately.

If Sunrise and Rumiko do decide to go through with this, then I will disappointed, sure, but not surprised. Romanticizing these sexualized images of young or pre-pubescent girls has been happening for far too long, after all. We've become desensitized to it sadly enough, especially when the media continues to glorify it. I wish we'd realize how many young girls- or minors in general- we're putting in danger by sending messages such as this.

To you young teenage girls and even boys reading this, you may not fully understand right now, but it's never okay for anyone to tell you that your body being sexualized is a natural and beautiful thing. It's going through through a lot changes at your age, yes, but they should never use your curiosity to satisfy their sexual needs. Don't allow some of these stories to be an example of what is acceptable to occur in your own life if you were ever to encounter a similar situation, especially if fiction is all that you have to compare it to. It is not in any way, shape, or form okay for an adult to say or do sexual/romantic things to you. Even a conversation that may seem harmless at first could have dire consequences. No, not even if you trust them and they're one of your favorite people in this world are these things ever appropriate. What they're asking from you or showing you is dangerous, and even if it doesn't seem like it they are very likely taking advantage of you. If you're ever unsure about something, don't hesitate to come to me. Or maybe you have a loved one that you can go to, that works too. 😊

Idk if I even gave you a definite answer, but perhaps it's because I'm still figuring it out myself. If I ever do, ha! I hope by allowing you to get inside my head for a little bit you got a better idea. Or maybe not, and I just made it more confusing for you. Oops! lol Feel free to hit me up again, dear, and have a nice day/night!! 👋

[buckys-little-hoe]

Insecure | Peter Parker x Reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Sam and Bucky make both of you insecure. You decide to prove them wrong. 

Warnings: Fluff, no warning I think. 

A/N: Heyaw! I just wanted to tell you that Peter is 21 in this Oneshot and the world knows that he is Spiderman. Thank you!

--

You silently sit on the couch and listen to the men. In the meantime you sip your beer. This would be men's night actually, but for some reason your friends see you as one of the boys. Is it because you only wear comfortable clothes and don't show curves? Is it because of your talent in video games? Perhaps. It's not fair. But thank god you're not the subject right now. Instead, poor Peter Parker is under attack.

“What do you mean, Parker? You just can't be bad at dancing. ” Sam says and you roll your eyes. Poor Peter. He constantly becomes a kicker for the men. You look down. A few strands of hair come loose from your bun and fall into your face. Annoyed, you blow it off your face, missing Steve’s gaze.

“It's a shame to not be able to dance. How are you ever going to take a girl out?” Bucky intervenes and you sigh in sync with Peter. What is that stupid statement supposed to mean? You like to dance, but that doesn't mean that all girls like to do it. After all, you are no longer in the 40s.

“He's right, Queens. How do you want to appear at the gala?” Steve agrees with his best friend. It was clear that he would agree. He also has no idea. With effort to stay calm, you put your beer on the glass table. Next to it is the card game that you played. You pulled the guys over the table with it. Another reason for your friends to not consider you girl.

“Don't listen to these idiots, Parker. Not many girls like to dance these days.” Your voice is encouraging, but Peter only shakes his head. Of course, he'd rather believe the boys than you. Why does your opinion never count?

"And how do you know that?" Sam asks and you take a deep breath. That hurt more than you thought. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and stand up. "You're an asshole, Wilson." you insult him and take your jacket.

“Wait, Y/N. He didn't mean that! ��� Steve calls after you, but you just keep walking. In the middle of the hallway you get your cell phone out. The bright screen makes you pause for a few seconds. Biting your lip, you tap on it.

Y/N: Meet me in the gym tonight, alone. Don't tell anyone.

Spiderling: What? Why?

Y/N: Just do what I say.

Y/N: And put on something comfortable!

Spiderling: Okay, Miss Y/L/N

Grinning, you roll your eyes. He'll never understand that he should just call you by your first name. You are about a few years older than Peter, but you are not that old. - Bored, you tie the buttons on your black body. Your long legs are in see-through tights and your hair is tied up in a tight bun. Your eyes slide to the door, which is still locked. It takes him longer than expected. You relax on the floor and hum softly to the music that is playing in the background.

The door opens and you startle easily. The fear that someone would see you like this is big. However, it is already four in the morning, so the chance of meeting uninvited guests is very slim. You press your lips together and then force yourself to look as calm as possible. It's okay for you to show yourself in front of Peter, but you're still insecure. You'll have to get this under control until the gala.

"Oh! Sorry Miss Y/L/N! Uh ... I meant Y/N. ” Peter stutters and you turn around. His cheeks are flushed with shame. With a gentle smile, you ask him in. “It's okay, Parker. If you agree to my deal, you have to endure me more often. ” You point to your body and he shakes his head violently. "No! You look really pretty!” he says honestly. The corners of your mouth twist into an even bigger smile, if that's even possible.

Together you sit on a bench and you take a few seconds to look at his outfit. He is wearing gray sweatpants and a white tank top with a pair of white sports shoes. That should actually be comfortable enough.

“So, Parker. Would you like to amaze the boys?” you want to know curious. Your eyes flash with excitement. "With pleasure! But how?" the young man asks you. You lick your lips and grin. "I will teach you how to dance." you explain and try to read from his face whether he likes the idea.

"How would you benefit from that?" His confused expression makes you giggle. To be honest, Parker looks confused 90% of the day. “The boys don't see me as a woman. I want to change that.” you answer. At the last galas, you always wore big blouses and wide trousers that showed nothing and covered your body. This time you would put on a short dress, one with a generous view of your cleavage.

"I do see you as a woman!" he replies. "Now just a little bit more ..." he whispers and his cheeks turn red again. You give him a little laugh. He is just too cute. You clap your hands excitedly and stand up.

"It's time to practice, Parker!"

--

You stand tired in the kitchen and wait for the coffee to be ready. You have been practicing daily for two weeks. Sometimes at night in the training room, sometimes during the day on a meadow. It turns out that Peter has music in his blood. During your training, you two got closer and built up a friendship, but in the compound you still have this we-are-only-colleagues-relationship. You don't want anyone to find out anything. The gala is already in three weeks, but as hard-working as you are, you should soon be able to do it blind.

The lamp finally glows green and you don't waste time. Instead, you put the hot pot on your lips and drink. Your skills don't let you feel cold or heat. Accordingly, you cannot burn yourself or get any other injuries that heat and cold bring. You hear Clint groan in annoyance.

"You are so selfish, Y/N." he says (like as if you would care) and turns to the other coffee machine. You put the empty jug down and shrug your shoulders. "The whole world is about me, Clint." you reply and notice how a few drops of coffee run down the corners of your mouth. Peter hands you a few napkins as he walks past. "Thank you, Peter." you thank him with a slight smile and wipe the coffee away. "No problem, Y/N."

Bucky and Steve look up in surprise from their newspapers. Sam stops eating. "What?" you ask and raise a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Since when do you call him by his first name?" Bucky wants to know in surprise. Hmm. Maybe since Peter lifted you up for a while? Maybe since Peter sees you half-naked. You shrug your shoulders as calmly as possible.

"I call you Bucky too, don’t I?" you say and flutter your eyelashes. "But you don't call me Sam!" Sam replies and you roll your eyes. “I have no reason to call you by your first name. That's just for the people I actually like.” you defend yourself “It's okay, Y/N. You don't have to defend yourself in front of us. ” Steve intervenes. "Thanks, Steve." you say and look at Sam when you say his name.

Clint leans against the kitchen counter and looks first at you and then at Peter, who hides his face behind a cereal box. "Interesting." the archer whispers and sips his coffee with relish. "Idiot." you mumble under your breath and leave the kitchen. - You hiss quietly when he stands on your foot. He looks at you apologetically and immediately breaks away from you. You shake your head briefly and then wave it off. He didn't break your foot.

“It's okay, Peter! We'll try again.” you say encouragingly and take a few steps back. He rolls his shoulders to relieve the tension and nods. "OK." he replies and comes closer to you. His right hand rests on your back and the other is knotted with your right. Your left hand is on his shoulder blade.

He guides you and you proudly follow him. Your hips move in time. You can take a quick look at yourself in the mirror. The black sweatpants sit low on your hips and the black sports bra fits like a glove. Your hair is tied up in a loose ponytail. Peter is again wearing the gray sweatpants but this time a white t-shirt.

The music in the background is a bit quiet, but still audible. You roll your head backwards appropriately. The sunlight shines directly on the tip of your nose. Your head is back up when he looks at you. He lets go off you immediately and points to his goose bumps.

You understand of course and quickly slip into your sweater. Peter stops the music and then picks up a few dumbbells. You stand on the treadmill and start running just in time. The heavy doors open and Sam is laughing at a joke Bucky made. Bucky looks crispy, especially his thighs. Even Sam in his sports clothes looks exceptionally juicy. Still, you would never admit that. Their conversation falls silent when they see Peter. "Are you going to pick a few girls up, Spiderboy?" Sam asks and stands behind him.

Bucky grunts loudly and you roll your eyes as usual. The boys can be real idiots. You keep running and ignore their presence. Sam gives you a funny look because he will never understand why you wear a sweater while training. You don't feel any heat anyway, so that's not a problem for you. Instead, you focus on the race. - "How you do that?" Peter asks, pointing to your high heels. You smile proudly. You two are taking a break. The gala is in a week, so you've already decided to try high heels. These are very high because you weren't sure which ones to wear. “Years of practice.” you answer seriously and smile. It is actually true. Back in high school, you started secretly wearing heels. However, you always carried these at home because you hated attention at the time.

Together you get up again and he walks away. Even with your high shoes, he’s still a few centimeters taller because you are very short. "Let's try the lifting figure again?" he asks you and you nod. The lifting figure is not a problem for Peter, after all, he can also lift cars. You have curves in the right places, but you still have a flat stomach. This mainly comes from training and from all the missions.

The sun is beating down on you and the birds are chirping happily. You are standing in a meadow, very far away from the headquarters. You walk about ten steps back and crack your fingers. The lifting figure is a problem for you. Not that you don't trust Peter! You don't trust yourself. You are afraid that you will screw up everything, or that you’ll hit the ground, or that you are too heavy after all. The lifting figure is still part of the choreography and it is important.

He nods to you and you take a deep breath. Your heart is pounding quickly. You swallow hard for a moment and start running. Just before you stand in front of Peter, you stretch out your arms and he lifts you up at the waist. You almost hover over his head and stretch out your body. The wind blows through your hair and you smile happily. After about ten seconds, he carefully lets you down. Overwhelmed by the happiness, you hug the boy exuberantly. Laughing, he wraps his arms around your body.

"We did it, Peter!" you call cheerfully and both of you fall into the soft grass laughing. - You look nervously at yourself in the mirror and tug at your dress. It is light pink and has a few silver and white details on the upper body. The neckline is deep, but not too deep. It just gives a generous view of your breasts. The fabric is tight up to your waist, but then there is a lot of tulle underneath. The dress goes down to the middle of your thighs. You combined it with a pair of silver high heels.

Your hair falls over your shoulders in gentle curls. Only when you put your hair back you can see the expensive diamond earrings. Your make-up is simple. You redraw your pink lips and then nod satisfied. You can show yourself like that. 

The gala started a long time ago. You hurry down the few steps and quickly pull Peter into a corner. He is wearing a black suit and looks very attractive. As you look around to see if anyone has noticed you, Peter lets his eyes wander over your body.

"Wow ... you look amazing, Y/N." he says with his mouth open. Your cheeks turn red and you smile shyly. "You don't look bad either, Peter." you reply and bite your lower lip. "Get ready, okay?" you remind the boy with a serious expression and he nods.

The donation gala is structured as follows: Every male Avenger gets a dance to convince the crowd to donate. Most of the time, it's more of a competition among the boys to see which man makes more money. Only the boys actually have to dance, so you've never had to dance. For example, Vision dances with Wanda, Bruce with Natasha, Clint with Laura, Thor with Jane, Tony with Pepper and Steve with Sharon. Sam and Bucky choose a woman during the gala who can have the pleasure of dancing with one of them. This is Peter's first donation gala.

"Have you spoken to the DJ yet?" you ask your dance partner. He shakes his head and you nod. It is time to overcome your insecurities. "I'll do it quickly." He smiles encouragingly at you. You smile back and set off.

You arrive at the DJ unseen. You quickly hand in your choice of music and understanding he shows you a thumb up. You say thank you and he starts to engage in a conversation. You raise an eyebrow in surprise and just want to give him a no, but another voice interrupts you.

"Hello Beautiful Woman. Unaccompanied here?” the deep voice asks and your heart starts racing. Slowly you turn around and his charming grin turns into a shocked expression. "Y/N?" he says surprised and you smile innocently. "What's up, Wilson?" you reply and suppress a smile.

"You ... you, um. Wow. You ... hello ... you just look ... wow. ” your work colleague stutters and you laugh gently. “Thank you, Wilson. You too. ”, You answer and point at his dark blue suit.

Bucky approaches Sam from the side and ignores you. You quickly turn to the DJ and smile apologetically at him. He just waves the whole thing off and smiles wryly. "Have you seen Parker yet, Sam?" Bucky asks his friend and nudges him. But he doesn't even look at him. Confused, he follows Sam's gaze and sees your back. His lips curl up in a grin. "Hello, you have a dance partner already?" Bucky wants to know and taps your shoulder.

You roll your eyes briefly and then turn around. He sees you, startled. “Uh! Y/N?” he asked hesitantly and you nod with a smile. "You look ... indescribably beautiful!" Bucky says as if he couldn't believe it himself. You lick your lips amused and wink at him.

"I wish you a nice evening, gentlemen." Your voice is so tender and loving that sweet honey drips from your lips. You wave to them and disappear to go to the bar. Both men stand there in confusion.

"Did you see her too?" Sam asks incredulously and Bucky nods. “Yes, buddy. That was Y/N. ” Bucky replies and looks after you. Peter is still standing in the corner and watching you grinning. - Bucky and his dance partner leave the dance floor with raging applause. Now it's Peter’s turn. You two are the last. The applause ceases and Peter stands on the dance floor. The music plays loud and slowly you walk towards him. You start with your choreography. You forget the people around you.

As practiced, you go through the steps and diligently swing your hips. Natasha is the first to whistle you. You can hear the cameras and the talking press. You will definetly occupy the front page of tomorrow's newspaper. The two youngest Avengers are a couple?

But you don't care. Not tonight and not tomorrow either. Now only his eyes count for you. Slowly you loosen up and he takes a few steps back. You also take a few steps back and wait a moment. Then you run towards him and spread your arms. With ease he lifts you up and you stretch your body. The audience applauds.

With a fat smile he lets you down and you two are very close. You can feel his breath on your lips. You look smiling at his lips and slowly he approaches your lips. You quickly close the gap and put your lips on his. The applause gets louder, but you don't hear that. You put your arms around his neck and gently bite his lower lip.

You have clearly proven that Peter can dance and that you are a woman.

[ibijau]

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

The first few pieces of the puzzle are discovered, much to the dismay of everyone involved.

By the time Lan Wangji and A-Yuan reached the Cloud Recesses, Lan Xichen had long left for Lanling. It would have been easy to wait for his return to ask about that altered version of Cleansing which Nie Huaisang shared, easier still to forget entirely about this matter.

Instead, while A-Yuan was in class, Lan Wangji started perusing the restricted parts of Gusu Lan’s library. There was no need to bother checking more ordinary scores, he had quickly decided. If it had been a common song, he would have recognised it. Thus, it had to be one not ordinarily used.

The notion of a genuine mistake did cross his mind, of course. He did not linger on it. The melody, while clearly different from Cleansing, fit with it well enough to not bring direct attention to itself. There was a purposefulness to this that he did not like.

Day after day, Lan Wangji checked collections of songs that, for one reason or another, had to be kept out of reach of ordinary disciples. Aside from his investigation, it proved a rather fascinating exploration of his sect’s history, and of the different ways musical cultivation had been used over the years.

Between this, the morning reading of the rules to the juniors, and time spent with A-Yuan, his days were so well filled that he usually fell asleep easily, long before the hour where he felt the impulse to reach for Wei Wuxian’s soul.

It came as little surprise to discover that his time in the library had attracted his uncle’s attention. Lan Qiren was always interested in any research happening in the Cloud Recesses, and he still had little trust in his youngest nephew. The only odd thing, as far as Lan Wangji was concerned, was the fact that it took his uncle over a month to come see him in the restricted section of the library. Even then, he only did it under the pretext that Lan Xichen had sent a letter from Lanling, and some of the news concerned Lan Wangji.

Lan Xichen wrote to explain that he would be staying in Lanling longer than intended, to help Jin Guangyao settle in his new position. That his friend should be accepted as new head of Lanling Jin happened with surprising ease, which he guessed was due both to Jin Guangyao’s undeniable skills and his impeccable rhetoric. It also helped, of course, that the only alternative was a toddler. Jin Guangshan’s other recognised bastard, Mo Xuanyu, was apparently known all over Lanling as a particularly weak willed fool, and besides he was so utterly devoted to Jin Guangyao that he would never have gone against him even if he had understood what was at stake.

He mentioned, also, how worried he was once again about Nie Huaisang. The young sect leader had departed for Qinghe the instant the ceremonies were over. But while in Lanling, he had behaved very oddly, acting very panicked every time someone asked him his opinion about the situation and never really taking sides. Lan Xichen understood that his brother-in-law was still struggling to find his footing after being thrown into his position, but he still regretted that behaviour. He knew that Nie Huaisang was capable of being quite shrewd when needed, that he had a good head for politics, and so he hoped that Lan Wangji would continue supporting his husband and encouraging him to come into his own.

This struck Lan Wangji as peculiar. After the news of Jin Guangshan’s death, Nie Huaisang had immediately started analysing the situation and wondering how to support Jin Guangyao. It seemed that Lan Wangji was not the only one made suspicious by this very odd version of Cleansing.

When he was done reading, Lan Wangji returned the letter to his uncle, and waited for him to leave so he could continue his research. Instead, Lan Qiren picked up one of the scores he had been inspecting.

“You have been coming here a lot lately, Wangji. I encourage your will to study, but your material of choice seems rather inappropriate. There are no songs here you should ever use.”

“Hm.”

“I was happy to see you start to do better,” Lan Qiren said, dropping the score impatiently. “I rejoiced too fast. It seems your interest for darkness has not relented after all.”

“Hm.”

The accusation glided on Lan Wangji like water off a duck’s back. And yet, as his uncle turned to leave, he felt an impulse to stop him. Not because his opinion still mattered on a personal level. But whether Lan Wangji liked it or not, his uncle was a renowned scholar and an expert on musical techniques. If Lan Xichen was to remain absent, then it might be wise to turn to someone else for advice.

“A certain melody has been brought to my attention,” Lan Wangji explained as his uncle was about to pass the threshold. “I have never heard it before. It could be innocuous, but the circumstances were unusual.”

Lan Qiren stopped in his tracks.

“What circumstances were those?”

A logical question, but one Lan Wangji hesitated to answer in full until he had a better understanding of the situation. There was little point in throwing accusations at the moment.

“At a certain time, a certain cultivator used a spiritual melody that I know. I was not here to hear it, but a person I trust did. When later I played that melody for that person, they remarked that it was different from what they had heard from that other cultivator.”

“And you do not think it was a mistake,” Lan Qiren noted, walking back toward his nephew now that his curiosity was picked. “What was the original melody?”

“A Lan healing song.”

“I could have guessed that much,” his uncle retorted. “That person, were they able to describe what had been changed?”

Lan Wangji nodded, and hummed the song fragment that Nie Huaisang had shared with him. When he finished, his uncle was frowning. Without a word, Lan Qiren sat down and easily put on paper the notes of that song, his scowl deepening as he inspected it.

“I have never heard that played, but I have seen it before,” he announced. “It is definitely something that we have in our collection, but I cannot remember what it is exactly. Do you know if it had any specific effects when played?”

After careful consideration, Lan Wangji nodded.

“The healing song’s effect might have been cancelled by it,” he explained, recalling how little Nie Mingjue’s mood had improved after Cleansing was played to him. “It is possible it even inverted the effects. I cannot be sure. I am not close enough to the person on whom it was used to judge if their temperament was affected by this, or other events.”

“It might be interesting to interrogate that person. It is difficult to say for sure, not without the original score to show the manner in which the song must be imbued with spiritual energy, but it appears to me as though it could easily be used for nefarious purposes.”

“The person has died since then, and cannot be interrogated.”

His uncle’s eyes narrowed at the news, and he glared at the score.

“I see. If the person you are speaking off is the one I think… this could be a dangerous situation, Wangji. Continue your investigation, but do not speak of it to anyone until things are certain. Does your husband know?”

“Hm.”

Lan Qiren nodded and stroked his beard, as if that confirmed some of his suspicions.

“Tell me if you find out what that song is, do not make rash decisions and do not let your husband make them either. If there is need for action, your brother and I will do what is necessary.”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji replied, letting that simple sound carry all of his doubt. Even if that song truly had the effect suspected, the only proof that it had been used was Nie Huaisang’s memory of it, which was hardly any proof at all, considering whose word they would need to go against.

Still, he supposed he should have been grateful that his uncle was offering to help at all.

He refused to be.

-

It took a few more days after this chat with his uncle for Lan Wangji to finally learn more about the corrupted melody, and even then he very nearly missed it entirely. As he was browsing a collection of foreign songs, Lan Wangji encountered a passage that made little sense, with a score starting in a certain style and ending in a very different one. He almost dismissed it as being due to the very unusual nature of that particular anthology, filled with music that aimed only to disorient, hurt, or straight out kill those upon whom it was inflicted. Of course songs such as these might not follow the usual rules of harmony.

Luckily, one of the passages still caught his attention enough to be worth comparing to his uncle’s transcription of the corrupted song. It was not a match, not exactly, but there was a certain harmony between the two, a similarity that made it perfectly possible for the two to be part of the same piece. Indeed, after close inspection, Lan Wangji realised that a part of this particular book, named The Collection of Turmoil, had been very carefully removed, leaving almost no trace of the now missing page.

In such circumstances, it was too big of a coincidence to be ignored. Lan Wangji put back every other material he had prepared to research that day, keeping only the Collection of Turmoil with him and leaving with it.

His plans of showing the incomplete song to his uncle was, unfortunately, thwarted when he learned that Lan Qiren had left the Cloud Recesses, called by some urgent business in Gusu. The elder he had left in charge assured Lan Wangji that his uncle would return in a matter of days. It was inconvenient, but not overtly so. Lan Wangji did not mind waiting a little longer, and would use that delay to further study the broken melody.

The rest of the day passed rather pleasantly. His mind no longer so taken by his research, Lan Wangji was able to better play with A-Yuan when his son’s classes finished. They fed the rabbits together and, since the weather was pleasant, stayed a long while in their pen, watching them hop around. A-Yuan had given names to all of them and although they all looked very similar, he was particularly good at distinguishing between them and noticing their personalities. Due to his age he was still sometimes a little clumsy when catching and holding them, but it was obvious that A-Yuan was trying very hard to be kind to the rabbits. Lan Wangji hoped the animals knew how much they were loved. He hoped, also, that A-Yuan knew how loved he was. He doubted that it would ever be easy for him to say it with words, so all he had were actions.

On the way back to the Jingshi, he picked up A-Yuan in his arms and carried him, holding him with as much gentleness as his son had tried to show to the rabbits.

He hoped it was enough to show how much he cared.

Judging by the way A-Yuan smiled, it might have been enough.

The evening passed just as pleasantly. They had dinner alone in the Jingshi, as they often did when Lan Qiren wasn’t around to complain about Lan Wangji spoiling his son. When that was over, Lan Wangji tried to read a story to his son, only for A-Yuan to interrupt at nearly every sentence because he too wanted to try reading. He was starting to know quite a few characters, and Lan Wangji patiently provided him with those he could not yet recognise. When the story was over, A-Yuan went to bed and, owing to that sunny afternoon with the rabbits, quickly fell asleep. Lan Wangji, now alone, put order to a few things inside the house. He was thinking of joining his son and ending the day when there was an urgent knock on the door.

Lan Wangji barely had time to take a step toward the door before Nie Huaisang barged in, breathless and disheveled, as if he had run there. No, not just run. For the first time since his days as a student in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang had a saber at his hip, which meant he might have flown all the way from Qinghe.

“Huaisang?”

“They took him,” his husband hissed, his face distorted in a terrible grimace, his limbs trembling from both rage and exhaustion.

“Him?”

“Mingjue! Someone took him! His grave is empty!”

Lan Wangji threw a quick look toward the bed, where A-Yuan was fast asleep. He would not stay so if he heard Nie Huaisang’s voice, and his husband did not look in a state to control his volume.

“Outside.”

They went to the rabbits’ pen, where they were least likely to be disturbed by anyone, especially at such an hour. Lan Wangji sat down and gestured for his husband to do the same, but Nie Huaisang refused and instead started pacing in the grass.

“I kept thinking about that song,” he explained. “How you said there’s only one version of Cleansing. And as I was travelling toward Lanling and became more nervous, I kept thinking how when you played it, Cleansing always calmed me down perfectly well. I was a mess before you came to visit, but then you arrived, played a little music, and I started feeling better. So why didn’t it work for Da-ge?”

“Hm. On that matter…”

“It doesn’t make sense that he was so angry!” Nie Huaisang insisted, ignoring the attempt to interrupt him. “It doesn’t make sense that I was so angry! I know we’ve always argued a lot, but never like this, we were never so vicious toward each other! It makes no sense at all, but everything hurt so much after losing him, I was so upset all the time, I didn’t even notice until you started playing the song for me. And so I thought… I thought if something had been done to him, maybe his body would bear the trace. It’s not been so long, I was hoping if I checked, I might find something.”

He stopped his pacing and shuddered.

“I found something for sure. Or rather, I found nothing. The coffin was… it had been weighted down with stones, but that’s it. There was no body inside. Wangji, they stole his body! They… no. Not they. He. It has to be him. Who else would have had the occasion? He was the one taking care of the coffin and the tomb, we let him have free rein over that. He… I trusted him!” Nie Huaisang exploded, before breaking into tears and falling to his knees on the grass. “I trusted him, I fought with Da-ge on his behalf! I trusted him so much and he did this to him, to us!”

Awkwardly, Lan Wangji shuffled closer and patted his husband's shoulder. There were no words of comfort for a moment like this one. The best Lan Wangji could offer was validation.

“Cleansing was corrupted with a fragment of another song,” he announced. “I have found the work from which it comes, but the score itself was torn away. The book was in a restricted session. Even among disciples, few people are allowed there. But there are two strangers to our sect who were given unlimited access to all of Cloud Recesses, owing to their ties to Zewu-Jun.”

“And my brother wouldn’t have done this,” Nie Huaisang sniffled. “He… he did this. He really did this. He killed my brother and he took his body! He… I thought he was my friend. I thought he was our friend!”

Without warning, Nie Huaisang let himself fall into Lan Wangji arms, hugging him tight and sobbing against his shoulder. His first instinct was to push him away, disgusted as he often was by unwanted contact. Instead, Lan Wangji forced himself to relax and tolerate it. There was not much he could do for Nie Huaisang at the moment, but if his husband needed this, he would make an effort.

After a long while, Nie Huaisang’s sobs calmed down. He pulled back, dried his tears, and sighed.

“I must find Da-ge’s body,” he announced. “If it was taken, it must be because it contains proof of what was done to him. Jin Guangyao is many things, but not a fool. He would not have done something so risky if he had not been forced to. If I find the body, I might be able to demand justice. But first, I must find it…”

“It will not be easy.”

“Might not be so hard either,” Nie Huaisang replied, a little more collected already. “The Nie sect has always had an ideal of justice, so we have a few techniques for finding missing bodies. I’m not an expert at any of them, and with my cultivation being what it is, it’ll take some effort, but I’ll manage. I’ll find him.”

“We will find him.”

Nie Huaisang stared at Lan Wangji with wide eyes and shook his head.

“That’s not your business. I… I shouldn’t even have come here, really. I should have kept this to myself. Jin Guangyao has just become the most powerful man in the country, to have him as an enemy is… It’s better if you stay out of this, Wangji. I’ve already caused you enough trouble.”

“You are my husband,” Lan Wangji retorted. “You are my friend. I already left one friend to fend for himself against Lanling Jin. I will not make that mistake again.”

For a brief moment, it looked as if Nie Huaisang might start crying again, but he managed to contain his emotions and smiled instead.

“You are a good man, Wangji. If you are really willing to help, I’ll be selfish and accept it.”

“I would not have let you refuse.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile widened, and he even managed a short laugh.

“Rude. Very rude. I can’t see why people call you a gentleman when you’re so rude to this poor husband of yours.”

Lan Wangji smiled back. He knew better than to take Nie Huaisang’s laughter as a sign he was well, but if he could at least use his usual defence mechanism again, he had to at least be better.

Still, as they walked back toward the Jingshi, Nie Huaisang fell into deep silence, which he only broke when they reached the door of their home.

“Wangji, if you come with me to Qinghe to investigate, what do we do with A-Yuan?”

“He comes as well,” Lan Wangji replied, although he did not particularly like the idea of dragging his son into this.

“But it could be dangerous,” Nie Huaisang protested. “I don’t know Guangyao as well as I thought I did, but I still think I have a good grasp of who he is. If it really is him who stole Da-ge’s body, he’ll have taken every step necessary to ensure it is never found again, so there can be no proof of what he did. He’s learned the hard way to be careful about things like that.”

“Hm. We leave him here with Hou Tianjian?”

“It’s a better option, but won’t that bring attention to us? It is well known that you never part from him. It could be explained when we went to Qinghe together because you’ve never bothered to hide that you disliked my brother. But now that he's gone? If we travel together, people will find it very odd that we did not take him with us. We're known as quite the happy little family after all.”

“You said it was too dangerous,” Lan Wangji pointed out.

Nie Huaisang sighed in frustration.

“It is! But if he stays here, we need to find a good excuse to feed Hou Tianjian. This is too delicate to tell her the truth, I’m not trusting anyone except you. What to do… it’s really too bad you’re such a poor liar, or it’d be easy.”

“Hm.”

Again, Nie Huaisang sighed, and he started pacing in front of the door.

“How to make it work… the guard on duty at the entrance saw me, as did a few servants probably. I’ve been flying for a week straight, so I must look like a mess. And everyone knows I’m just a little idiot who’s good for nothing aside from badly painting landscapes.”

“You are not…”

“Hush, hush, I am, I don’t mind, I don’t care. I’ve worked hard to make sure I’d never be anything more than that. So here I am, an absolute mess, knocking at your door in the middle of the night, causing a scene… and I did, don’t deny it. I caused such a scene we had to go talk among rabbits, Wangji! That’s true, and that’s what you’re going to tell Hou Tianjian when you leave A-Yuan with her.”

Nie Huaisang finally stopped pacing, and instead played with the hem of his sleeve.

“You can tell her that I have been unwell since my brother’s death, which is also true. You can tell her that I’m faced with problems I can’t handle alone which…” he snickered. “It certainly is true, isn’t it? And if you tell her that right now you don’t think it’s safe for A-Yuan to be around me, that’s true as well.”

“Hm. I will do that.”

It would be unpleasant to paint such a portrait of his husband, no matter how true each individual statement was. It would be even more unpleasant to do it for  Hou Tianjian, with whom Nie Huaisang had a certain friendship and who always seemed to have a good opinion of him. But if he was willing to sacrifice that for A-Yuan's safety, Lan Wangji would play his part.

“Great. And I’ll… find somewhere to spend the night,” Nie Huaisang decided. “It’s probably better if A-Yuan doesn’t see me, it’ll upset him if I’m here only to steal you away, won’t it?”

That, unfortunately, was true. A-Yuan very frequently asked when they would return to Qinghe, wanting to check both on Nie Huaisang and on the garden they had planted together. It would be difficult for him to understand that for a time, the adults in his life needed to have other priorities.

As to where Nie Huaisang might spend the night...

“Brother is still in Lanling. His house is empty.”

Nie Huaisang startled at the suggestion, and laughed nervously.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll sleep better if I go back to the rabbit’s pen,” he said. “The night isn’t so cold anyway. I’ll hide there until you come pick me up, when you have dropped A-Yuan with Hou Tianjian and Jingyi.”

“Your choice.”

“I never get much of a choice,” Nie Huaisang chuckled. “Not for this, not for anything else. Ah, well… good night, husband. Please hug A-Yuan for me tomorrow morning.”

“I will.”

Nie Huaisang smirked at his answer, but made no comment as he turned back toward the path that led to the rabbits’ pen.

[takonei]

Beta AU - Main story: Chapter 2, deadly life (Part 4)

Note of the author: I underestimated the length of this, this chapter is going to be the end of meeeEEEEE-

Chapter 2: The wolf and the lamb - Daily life

The tailor slowly lifted her head.

“... Excuse me?” she turned to Kirumi.

She lowered her head. “As I said, I do not see any reason why you would kill Kaede, seeing how close you two were, but you had my motive video, didn’t you?”

“I saw your name on the tablet and turned it off, then brought it to the others like everyone else in this godforsaken room.” Maki sounded really mad, tears in the corner of her eyes.

Ryoma sighed. “Kirumi, for someone backed into a corner, using Maki as a scapegoat is a low blow coming from you.”

She tightened the grip on her podium. “As I said, I highly doubt Maki would do such a thing, but we cannot ignore the possibility.”

“SHUT UP!!”

Maki yelled, her voice cracking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about! If I even tried to kill anyone to get out of here with someone, that would have been with Kaede and no one else!!”

Kirumi held onto her podium. “I know I didn’t do it, I said it’s between Keebo, Ryoma and you, since you three knew about my talent.”

“I didn’t!!” Maki shouted. “I didn’t and I learned at the same time as everyone else!”

Rantaro tried to calm the two. “Hold on, let’s just calmly talk through this, we’ll know whether Kirumi and Maki are lying or not.”

Tsumugi nodded. “Agreed. We’ve lost enough time talking about useless nonsense. We’ll know who’s lying when we get to the alibis.”

Maki glared at Tsumugi for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. “I took a walk with Kaede around 8 PM and we went to our respective rooms at 8:30 PM, and I didn’t leave my room after that.”

Shuichi turned to the ‘maid’. “Kirumi said she was in her lab from 9 PM to 10 PM.”

Keebo looked at Ryoma. “And Ryoma and I were in the warehouse from 9 PM to 11 PM, then my battery was almost out so we went back to the dorms.”

Miu weakly raised her hand. “I... I couldn’t sleep well and I heard some noise outside my room around 11 PM... I didn’t check who it was but I can say that from 11 PM to 12 AM no one left or entered the dormitory, if that helps.”

Tsumugi placed one hand on her podium. “So Ryoma and Keebo are clean, which leaves us Kirumi and Maki.”

Angie tapped a finger on her chin. “Which also means the killer did everything before 11 PM!”

“Although there is something I don’t understand.” Ryoma crossed his arms. “Doesn’t the method of elimination look strange to you guys?”

Rantaro replied. “Now that you mention it, Miu poisoned the glasses back then, not the entire bowl... Do you think the culprit thought we would all assume Miu would be lying when she said she poisoned the glasses and not the bowl?”

The smaller man shook his head. “Not what I was thinking about but that’s definitely a possibility.”

Shuichi thought about it, then realized. “You don’t mean-”

“Exactly.” Ryoma said.

“Anyone here could have been the victim. It didn’t matter whether it was Kaede or someone else.”

“Wait... The culprit didn’t even care about who the victim was? Does that mean they don’t have an accomplice?” Kaito asked.

“We’re getting closer to the truth~” Angie commented.

“But Maki said if she wanted to escape it would be with Kaede! That means the culprit is Kirumi, right?” Himiko jumped in.

“Hold on a second-” the mercenary tried to defend herself.

“Not that I’m trying to defend Kirumi, but I don’t think we can completely rule out the ‘they had an accomplice’ possibility.” Tsumugi interfered.

“What do you mean?” Shuichi asked.

“While ‘the culprit didn’t care about who died because they had no accomplice’ is definitely a plausible theory, I think we can also keep in mind someone could have been indirectly included in the plan.”

“You mean the culprit told someone they were going to poison the drink so the other person made sure they didn’t drink it?” Rantaro suggested.

“But in both cases, there was never a matter of an accomplice being used a scapegoat so the blackened would win to begin with, right?” Angie asked.

Kiyo continued. “And there is a high chance the two were part of the same group when watching the videos, if your theory is correct.”

Himiko pouted. “But we know the accomplice didn’t do anything directly!”

“That can still help us understand the culprit’s motive.” Rantaro gained the attention of everyone. “Kirumi’s group was formed of Ryoma, Keebo and herself. I know Ryoma has nothing to gain from escaping just like me and while this is only a gut feeling, I don’t think Keebo would do it due to... His nature, no offense.”

“None taken.” the robot replied.

“And my group had Maki, Kaede, Angie and myself. And we know Maki’s choice of accomplice would have been Kaede herself.” Tsumugi added.

“I can confirm this...” Shuichi muttered.

Kaito frowned. “What are we even questioning at this point? If Maki decided to kill someone to escape with Kaede she would have told her! Kirumi is the only choice we have!”

Kirumi’s annoyance was clearly visible at this point. “I also have nothing to gain from escaping. My life wasn’t exactly wonderful before the game.”

Keebo winced. “I can confirm this as well...”

“But if we focus on who has a motive and who hasn’t we’re getting nowhere! She could have done it just for survival!” Miu yelled.

As everyone was debating, Shuichi noticed Kiyo suddenly lifting his head.

“Can we be sure Maki would have told Kaede about her supposed plan, though?” he said.

“What?” Maki turned to the therapist.

“I think we all remember when Kaede broke her tablet in front of all of us. She said she wasn’t going to let a motive be the end of her.” he added, visibly nervous. 

Shuichi was starting to panic. “Hold on! Even if Kaede wasn’t going to go along with Maki’s potential plan to escape, that gives no reason for Maki to kill her!”

“I’m saying Kaede’s death could have been an accident.”

Everyone turned to Kiyo.

“Are you saying I killed someone on accident, and Kaede of all people??” Maki exclaimed.

“Trust me, I want to be wrong, but this is definitely a possibility, considering how Kaede acted after watching the videos.” he explained.

“So either Kirumi killed Kaede with no accomplice at all or Maki killed Kaede when her intent was to kill someone else...” Rantaro continued.

The class continued to debate on which theory was more plausible until-

“Puhuhuh... Am I hearing a split opinion?” Monokuma chuckled.

“Not this shit again...” Kaito groaned.

Rantaro sighed. “We don’t have a choice do we?”

“Nope!” the bear exclaimed as he played with the key.

The podiums started floating and separated into two sides. Shuichi also noticed the portraits of Kaede and Gonta on the right and Tenko’s portrait on the left.

Who is the culprit?

On the left, Kirumi, Keebo, Kokichi, Tsumugi, Ryoma and Kiyo. The culprit is Maki!

On the right, Maki, Shuichi, Himiko, Miu, Kaito, Rantaro and Angie. The culprit is Kirumi!

Scrum debate, start!

Kiyo: Maki killing Kaede on accident is definitely a possibility.

Himiko: Even if Kaede wasn’t part of the plan, Maki could have still told Kaede not to drink the beverage and prevent an accident !

Keebo: Maki’s alibi is way too vague to be ignored...

Miu: Kirumi was literally in her lab during a full hour, her alibi is way more suspicious!

Kirumi: I only checked if poisons were missing this morning, there is a possibility she could have retrieved it two days ago.

Kaito: You spent a huge amount of time in your lab and you say you didn’t know the poison was missing?

Kokichi: But if Kirumi says the truth, Maki wouldn’t have to take long to just go in the kitchen and poison the drink...

Angie: Kirumi knew the truth of the missing poison from the beginning, is trusting her really a good idea?

Ryoma: If both of them knew about the drink, both of them could have done the deed.

Maki: Kirumi literally prepared the drink with Miu, she knew about the best method to sabotage it!

Tsumugi: It doesn’t take a genius to read the etiquette on the bottle.

Rantaro: Yet it would have taken an immense amount of time for Maki to find the right bottle in Kirumi’s lab.

Kirumi: I am telling you the truth, I am not the killer!

Shuichi: Both of you could be the killer, we just need to think back about the remaining clues!

The podiums went back to normal.

“But what clues are we missing?!” Miu exclaimed. “They both have their alibis, which are more or less flawed!”

Angie crossed her hands, elbows on the podium. “And both could be lying, even though my doubts are on Kirumi~”

Shuichi lowered his head. Think, think think!-

He suddenly froze.

...

No one knew about Kaede going to the library yesterday, at night.

No one knew that she was stressed and needed to write in her notebook to relax.

Kaede wasn’t even feeling down after destroying her tablet this morning, she had a newborn confidence to help her get through this.

The only reason she could have felt nervous was if someone warned her about something.

Only one person could have warned her about something coming.

That ‘something’ being a murder.

“...”

.

.

“...-i...”

.

.

“Shuichi...”

.

.

“SHUICHI!!!”

The young boy was startled by Rantaro, who had woken him up from his state.

“Did you find something? You look unusually pale.” the medic asked.

Shuichi opened his mouth, shaking. “I...”

"I know who the culprit is.”

Tsumugi fiddled with a hair strand. “Did you remember a major clue?”

He nodded.

"Maki... You...”

“I didn’t do it!” she cried. “I didn’t kill Kaede, I swear!”

“But everything falls into place! Please, even though you didn’t do it on purpose we need to know the truth!”

“There is no way I would kill Kaede, I only briefly talked to her last night and then I went to my room!”

“It’s that meeting that pushed Kaede to go out, whether you intended it or not!”

Shuichi remembered what Kirumi said only a few days ago.

“If another class trial occurs, perhaps the culprit won’t be as merciful as Tenko. Perhaps cornering them would be necessary, and being passive would lead to nothing.”

Shuichi had to make Maki and everyone else understand. He had to, for everyone’s sake.

<HowdoIwriteArgumentArmaments.txt>

“This is clearly wrong!”

                              “I didn’t ask her anything of the sort!”

     “Everything you

                                           say is just

                                                                         about suspicions!”

                                                     “I would have never thought about doing this...”

                               “I knew Kaede more than anyone else!”

                       “She was my everything!”

“I would have told her 

                                                                   if I even planned

                                              on doing anything!”

                   “I can’t let you accuse me of being responsible for her death!”

“Kaede wouldn’t have wanted me to commit murder!”

                 “It’s just natural

                                                   I would think about her

                                                                                                 before acting!”

                                 “I can’t believe any of you... “

“This is purely wrong!”

                             “And how would you know how Kaede felt??”

                              Night         time          brief          meeting

“Maki... Kaede was confident this morning and suddenly felt nervous before going to the library... You said something to her, right?”

“Besides, I can confirm her being nervous, since I came across her when I left the library.” Tsumugi added.

“I am not the culprit! You- You have to believe me!” she yelled, tears flowing from her eyes.

Rantaro looked away from Maki. “Let’s just... Go through this one more time, shall we?”

Shuichi nodded.

Everything started the day we got the motive videos. The culprit and Kirumi had each other’s videos. The culprit watched Kirumi’s motive video until the very end, learning her real talent as the ultimate mercenary.

However when they came to the dining hall, they followed the group and said they didn’t watch it.

We established the groups and the culprit made sure they weren’t with Kirumi, and eventually officially learn about her talent.

The Miu incident came, where Miu tried to kill us with homemade poison made with chemicals from her lab. This was mostly out of instinct, because she had watched her own video.

The killer somehow learned about the incident, and tried to use it at their advantage.

The culprit had enough time that night to go through Kirumi’s lab to search for a poison that would allow them to use Miu as a scapegoat, most likely an odorless poison not to raise any suspicions for the potential victim.

The next day came the accomplice motive and the motive videos being watched by groups. This was the perfect opportunity for the culprit to strike, since they had someone to protect.

Kaede, however, was not willing to let the motive video influence her or make her try to do anything, even though she wanted to escape.

The culprit panicked, they had the perfect plan but an accomplice most likely unwilling to cooperate, so they had to stay silent about the plan not to mess things up.

Around 8 PM, Kaede and the culprit talked to each other, the former not knowing about the latter’s plan. The culprit warned Kaede about someone potentially doing something, so they had to be careful and stay in their room.

After pretending to go back to their room, the culprit left again to use the poison they had kept. Just poisoning the beverage, and leave. The victim would potentially be dead by the next day. The culprit just tried to make sure Kaede didn’t leave her room.

However their attempt to make her stay in her room backfired, and Kaede, as an attempt to relax, went to the library to write for a bit without thinking twice.

Around 12 AM, she must have felt thirsty and went to the kitchen to get something to drink, and saw the beverage. She took a glass and returned to the library.

Just one sip was enough to kill her. She died without knowing who sabotaged the drink.

The next day, we all found her dead body, and that’s when the culprit realized their mistake.

And the culprit...

Is none other than you... Maki Harukawa, the ultimate tailor.

...

“Please Maki... It’s over...” Shuichi pleaded.

“I... I... I didn’t...”

“You still won’t admit it, huh?” Tsumugi muttered. “It’s fine. We have our culprit. Monokuma, we’re ready to vote.”

“No, wait!!-” Maki yelled, turning to the bear.

“Aaaaaaalrighty then! My favorite moment, it’s voting time!”

“Please! I-I’m not the culprit! Y-You have to believe me!” the tailor begged, tears streaming down her face, her eyes red from the crying.

The faces of everyone appeared on the screens of the podiums. Shuichi felt a tear in the corner of his eye. He didn’t want this. But he had to.

He closed his eyes and pressed on Maki’s icon.

...

“Now then, it seems the voting has finished. Let’s see the result.” Monokuma declared.

The giant screen turned on and everyone’s icons appeared.

12 votes for Maki Harukawa and 1 vote for Kirumi Tojo.

A picture of Maki appeared on the right, indicating the majority vote.

She was shaking, unable to say a word.

“Who’ll be chosen as the blackened? Will you make the right choice or the dreadfully wrong one!?” Monokuma continued his usual speech.

VERDICT

The wheel turned for a few seconds before slowing down... And landing on Maki.

The coin machine on the screen made its distinct jingle, and coins rolling out of it.

Maki froze at the sight. Fists clenched, shaking.

“Oh my! You all voted correctly! What an unexpected and unpredictable outcome!”

Shuichi glanced at Maki. He had never seen her so horrified.

“The blackened who killed Kaede Akamatsu is Maki Harukawa, the Ultimate tailor!”

[loulilie]

On O-Kiku

Kiku should be considered a transwoman and adressed accordingly. "If it is not possible to ask a transgender person which pronoun they use, use the pronoun that is consistent with the person's appearance and gender expression or use the singular they." - Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation https://www.glaad.org/reference/transgender So I’ve spent quite some time today and yesterday arguing about this topic, so I figured I’d collect some of it in this post. I won’t repeat every argument I’ve seen made, because there’s some really ridiculous ones out there. But if anyone wants to make another argument not included here, I’ll just argue against that too. “I’m a woman at heart” So, the original japanese says: "心は女です。♡", "Kokoro wa Onna desu.♡" It means something like “My heart is a woman” (“kokoro” can mean heart, mind, soul, feeling, etc...Either way, I think the intention is obvious) If you read a translation that had a “Yes, but...”, that is actually not in the japanese text, but added by the translators. So Kiku doesn’t even give the question of “Are you a man?” the benefit of confirmation or denial. She just says she’s a woman, and that’s all that matters.

Honestly, I think this alone should stand above anything else, but if you have a different opinion, the counter arguments and confusion will be tackled below the cut:

Kiku uses a male pronoun! Okay, so bear with me, because this might be hard to understand if you’re not familiar with it. First of, if you refer to Kiku as “he” because she uses “sessha” ( 拙者 or せっしゃ) then I’m afraid you’re gonna have to refer to, for example, Big Mom as “he” too if you don't want to be a hypocrit, since Big Mom uses “ore” (俺). But, that’s not the case right? So: Pronouns aren’t necessarily gendered in japanese. Pronouns show your status in the setting or conversation. You can use a more humble pronoun like “watashi” when talking to your boss, but use a more tough one in privat, like “ore”. It’s like changing your clothes. A man doesn’t necessarily identify as a woman the moment he puts on a dress. This is why many of the instances that are usually translated as insults in the form of calling names in english, are usually just second person pronouns used to degrade the status of the other person. They didn’t even have gendered third person pronouns in japanese before they started translating western literature and had to make something up. Of course based on social norms there are pronouns that are considered “proper” for people to use based on their gender, but the pronoun itself isn’t gendered. Big Mom uses “ore” because she’s super tough, which is something not expected from women, so it’s not associated with them. So, “sessha” ( 拙者 or せっしゃ) is an archaic pronoun used by samurai. Historically samurai were expected to be men, so obviously there’s no pronoun commonly used by specifically female samurai. Kiku doesn’t use sessha to express her gender identity, she uses it to express her status as a samurai.

The Nine Red Scabbards are specifially male! Okay, so first off, in general, you will often encounter “man” being the default in japanese language. The word for siblings, “kyoudai” “兄弟” uses only the signs of big brother and little brother, despite it also being used to refer to sisters. Now specifically to the name: Those who don’t know, the japanese name for the “Nine Red Scabbards” is “赤鞘九人男” Akazaya ku-Nin Otoko, in which “男” otoko means man/men (Remember the joke with O-Toko?) Now I personally only see this as a narrative device to foreshadow O-Kiku hiding being a man or a transwoman until further confirmation (such as we got this chapter, 948), similarly to her name also being a reference hinting at it. But if you want to argue in-universe: The name isn’t necessarily chosen by the mebers itself? Zoro never called himself a Pirate Hunter, these titles are made up by the public. And in this very chapter we have an outsider calling O-Kiku a man. This random prisoner doesn’t decide Kiku’s gender, neither does the general public. Kiku is based on an Onnagata, so a man! What a character is based on doesn’t dictate what they are in the story. Usopp is partly a reference to Pinocchio, and we are not waiting on a reveal of him being a wooden puppet turned real boy now are we? For those who don’t know, Onnagata are male actors playing female roles in theatre. There’s also no way of determining whether or not no Onnagata ever was a transwoman. The concept and recognition is still pretty modern and history has shown to try to erase people from the LGBTQ+ community from the records.

There is no concept of Trans in Wano/One Piece / they don’t exist Now, I’m sorry, but this one is especially silly if you ask me. There being a concept of and them existing are different topics. If we’re talking about One Piece as a whole, the concept of transgender has come up before, specifically with Ivankov and the “Newkama”. Even if there is no understand of “transgender” in Wano (If you want to assume there isn’t, due to it being based on feudal Japan, which again look point above) that doesn’t mean there can’t be transgender people. They also don’t have a concept for devil fruits, but we can recognize a devil fruit user anyway. They also have no concept of “gun”, but we all know a gun when we see one. We, as the readers, can easily recognize Kiku as a transwoman, irregardless of whether or not the fictional society she is from has reached that level of understanding. I just want something more evidence. I genuinely don’t understand how it could be anymore clear. Like I said, you won’t be able to dictate Kiku’s gender by the pronouns used in the japanese original, because that is not how pronouns work in japanese. This is a japanese shonen manga, you cannot be any more obvious than literally saying “My heart is a woman”

Alright, so these are all the counter arguments I considered worth adressing. I know there is some confusion specifically because of people not knowing enough about japanese as a language itself.