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therealvinelle · 3 years ago

Note

Ok I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I'm just now copying your Norwegian Bella AU into a text translator, and if you don't already have 50 people in your inbox demanding a translation then shame on ALL OF US because this is glorious! And while Google Translate does have a certain charm (it translated "piper hun ut" as "she beeps") I'm curious to see how you'd put it in English.

Troquantary is referring to this post. In which Bella doesn't speak English.

Fun fact, you're the only one who's gone into my inbox to request this. I was so sad, had the translation half-written and everything, but I was too proud to beg. So thank you, Troquantary, for popping this ask.

As for the dictionary fuckups, sounds about right. I made a few typos, too, that made Google Translate suffer even more. (Such as managing to mix up "henne" (her) and "hendene" (hands), resulting in Aro patting Bella instead of clapping his hands. Poor Google.)

Also, there are a few cultural references and language things that would be lost in the translation, in an attempt to keep them I included notes clarifying things.

Some things, like Aro and Carlisle's very old man way of speaking, are easier said than done to translate, you'll have to bear with me there.

Additional notes are that I added a few things to this version, many of them because translating is hard, but a few because while translating I thought "oh you know what would be much funnier-" and then wrote that.

Alright, without further ado:

When Renée left Charlie she did not go to Florida, she went to Oslo. And she went all in to make her daughter a true Norwegian, hiring Norwegian nannies and making sure never to speak English around the child. Since transatlantic flights are expensive, little Bella Swan rarely got to visit her father, and as such she never did learn what should have been her native language.

She quickly forgot what English she did have in favor of Norwegian, with the exception of words like “Yes”, “No”, and “I’m Bella”.

The few trips she took to visit her father were all the more awkward than in canon since she couldn’t play with the Black kids. Let not the blame fall upon Charlie: he took Norwegian classes and speaks conversational Norwegian. He can’t speak to Renée, because her Norwenglish is incomprehensible even to Norwegians, but he can communicate with Bella.

Not that he’s had a lot of chances to do so.

Bella makes it to seventeen years old, she’s in second grade at Handels* and is a major outsider among the preps there, and then Renée marries a handsome skier**. Together they shall travel the continent all winter to participate in as many skiing races as they can, and in the summer they’ll take gigs at Hurtigruta to see the coast.

*“Handels” is the nickname for an Oslo high school infamous for its pupils being rich and beautiful blonds who are going to be CEOs when they grow up.

**Skiing as a sport is huge in Norway

***Hurtigruta is a famous ferry that travels across the Norwegian West coast

Bella, who sucks at skiing and is too young to work at Hurtigruten, takes the hint.

With dread in her stomach and dictionary in hand she goes to her father in America.

Where she doesn’t speak the language.

Faen.

Charlie gives her a car, and I wish this meta was set in the present because I could have joked about electric cars and the automat only driver’s license*, but Twilight is set in 2005 so I can’t. The car part proceeds without drama.

*An increasing number of Norwegian youth take the driver’s license for automatic cars only, and we’re the country in the world with the highest percentage of electric car purchases.

School is worse than in canon, because she is now a thousand times more sensational than if she was merely the new student. She is from another country! All of Forks keels over with excitement.

To make matters even worse, our girl doesn’t understand a word of what people are saying.

She is too awkward to let them know she doesn’t know English. It’d become a thing, and they might think she’s dumb. To be fair, it’s not good that she’s been through primary, secondary, and now a year and a half of high school and still sucks at English.

So she nods, smiles, mumbles “Hi, I’m Bella” to the new faces, and blushes heavily when anybody says anything.

People assume she’s shy. That’s a bit boring, but oh well.

She has her biology class with the redhead hottie she noticed during lunch. She watched him and his family, they were fascinatingly pretty, but she doesn’t know anything more about them. Sure would have been great if she could have asked the tiny girl (was it Jess?) about them.

Biology proceeds as in canon - Edward badly wants to eat the delicious girl, but fortunately doesn’t.

She runs into him in the office when he tries to switch to another biology lesson, but she has no idea what he’s saying so she only has the suspicion that this somehow concerns her. Which is still uncomfortable, but Bella is probably the problem here. The hottie surely can’t be.

He’s missing from school for a week, Bella finds that weird.

He returns, and to her great horror he starts talking to her.

“Hello”, he says.

Bella dies inside. He’s too handsome!

"I'm Edward Cullen," he continues, and ok, she got that. The hottie is called Edward, that’s good to know. She’s not sure she caught that last name, though, Köln?

He says something else, it’s gibberish to Bella even though she’s concentrating, and at the end there he says “Bella Swan”.

She gulps.

"I'm Bella Swan," she confirms and nods. That should be correct. God, she hopes it’s correct.

He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. She’s awed. She didn’t think it was possible to be so beautiful.

He says something else.

Bella didn’t catch it.

She blushes even harder, she hasn’t been more embarrassed in her life. Here he is, the most handsome guy in all the world, and she has nothing to say to him. Literally, they don’t speak the same language.

She should tell him.

It’s one thing to chicken out of telling the town she doesn’t speak English, but there’s something different about Edward Cullen. He deserves the truth.

But...

He’s the most beautiful person she has seen in her life. He is American, too, so the odds of him knowing Norwegian are microscopical. If he finds out she doesn’t understand a word he says he’ll stop talking to her, and selfish as she is she doesn’t want that.

So with a slightly guilty conscience (but not enough to fess up) she contributes to the conversation with enough words and smiles to pull through. "Yes", "No", "Thank you", and "That's nice".

He is surprised by several of these answers, but instead of giving her odd looks and losing interest he grows more invested in the conversation.

Class ends.

The next day the near accident happens, and he saves her. She is stunned - dear god, did he just pick up a whole car? After teleporting across the parking lot..?

Soon she’s in the ER, and more than a little bit stressed about that fact since she knows the Americans have a terrible healthcare system.

She hopes Charlie has an insurance.

An insanely beautiful man walks into the ER, and Bella is shocked. He is just as handsome as Edward and Edward’s lunch friends!

He introduces himself as Carlisle Cullen, and Bella can only assume this is someone’s older brother. Possibly related to the blonde girl.

He smiles at her, says something, and she answers, "I'm Bella Swan."

He frowns.

That must have been the wrong answer, then.

His hands return to investigating her scalp, and to her great surprise he switches to perfect Norwegian, "kjenner De* noe ubehag når jeg holder her?" Do you feel any discomfort when I touch here?

*De is the Norwegian polite pronoun for “you”. Du = thou = the French tu, and De = you = the French vous. These polite pronouns went out of use in the 1980’s, save for when addressing royal persons, and would be considered antiquated in 2005.

He hurries to add, "Norsk lærte jeg i... fjor sommer. Det var et nettkurs." I learned Norwegian… last year. Online class.

"Hvilket da?" Which one? Bella asks, because Charlie needs to hear about this. The doctor has beautiful, if slightly outdated, pronunciation.

The doctor’s smile turns uncertain. She gets the feeling there’s something he doesn’t want to say. "Husker ikke," I don’t remember, sier han etter en litt vel lang pause.

That’s a shame. And weird.

"De hadde hellet med Dem i dag, som ikke ble truffet av den bilen." You were lucky today, not getting hit by that car. he then says, noticeably changing the subject.

"Det var ikke hell, det var Edward," It wasn’t luck, it was Edward, she replies sharply.

The doctor definitely looks uncomfortable.

She continues, "Han krysset skolegården på et blunk, og plukket opp hele bilen. Jeg så det," He crossed the schoolyard in a moment, and picked up the whole car. I saw it,

The doctor laughs. "Om han kunne det hadde nok gymkarakteren hans vært meget bedre. Nei, frøken Swan*, jeg beklager å si at det høres ut som at De er litt omtåket. Det er helt normalt ved hjernerystelse." If he could do that, his PE grade would be a lot better. No, Miss Swan, I’m sorry to say you seem confused. That’s normal with concussions.

*Addressing a young woman as “frøken” is even more outdated than using polite pronouns.

Why does Bella get the feeling he’s lying?

She’s discharged.

We’ll jump ahead to her trip to La Push - that trip uneventful, since Jacob knows she doesn’t speak English. They stick their hands in their pockets and stare at the sea.

The next day she’s shanghaied to Port Angeles, because apparently she said “Yes” at the wrong time when talking to Jessica (Turns out Jess’s name was Jessica!) and accidentally said yes to a day trip to Port Angeles.

Like in canon she wanders away from the others, and as in canon she is nearly gang raped. And again as in canon she is saved at the last moment by Edward.

He buys her dinner, and she can’t believe her own luck- and misfortune. A date with the most handsome guy on the planet (hence the luck) and she can’t say a word to him (hence the misfortune)!

He says things to her, lends her his jacket, and really this is it for Bella, she’s peaked, life can’t get better than this.

(That’s a lie, it would be better if she spoke English.)

He’s so amazing.

She’s gotten pretty good at navigating conversations with him, so she nods and aha’s her way through.

In his car on the way home the tone takes a more serious turn.

He asks her about something, and it’s a serious question, that much she’s gathered. She answers in the confirmative.

He is silent.

Did she say anything wrong?

(Edward, on his end, just asked if she knows what he is. She said yes, so calmly, not even a trace of fear in her.)

A few days later he takes her out on a walk in the woods.

He shows her a meadow in the woods, and when he steps into it he lights up in the sunlight.

Bella is in shock.

She knew there was something different about him, but- holy cow. This guy isn’t human.

Is she dating a god?

She stumbles into the clearing after him, and they spend a day together where he says things, and she can barely hear any of it (nevermind understand it) because she’s so distracted by how pretty he is.

The next day he takes her to a house in the middle of nowhere. She doesn’t want to guess that this can be where he lives. Surely gods don’t live in houses?

He shows her inside the house, and introduces her for Dr. Cullen and a lady with a name she doesn’t catch.

Bit weird that these two are acting like a couple of parents, they’re far too young and divine for that.

Edward shows her around in an old-fashioned office, and she doesn’t know what to make of i when she sees a painting of Carlisle. Edward launches into a long story when he sees her watching it, unfortunately she doesn’t catch any dates or artist names. At one point she heard the word “suicide”, though, and that’s not good.

She doesn’t get much out of the story.

The baseball game doesn’t happen because Bella didn’t pick up on what Edward wanted and didn’t realize she was being invited to a thing. They spend the afternoon watching a movie instead.

The relationship continues, impeded slightly by communication problems, but she’s mostly able to cover those up.

Until her birthday comes around.

She gets a papercut.

Jasper lunges at her. Edward throws her into a glass table, and then everyone is leaving.

Carlisle is kind enough to switch to Norwegian when he’s stitching up her arm, perhaps remembering the last time she was his patient. "Jasper har ikke vært på dietten vår så veldig lenge." Jasper hasn’t been on our diet for very long.

"Diett?"she asks. She’s never seen Edward eat anything. She wasn’t clear on what the Cullens ate, honestly she thought they were above such things. She was thinking maybe photosynthesis. The knowledge that they apparently eat food astounds her, but diets?

"Dyreblod istedenfor menneskeblod," Animal blood in stead of human blood, Carlisle clarifies.

Whachasay?

Carlisle gives a slight smile. “Jaspers liv som vampyr fikk en brutal start." Jasper’s life as a vampire got off to a brutal start.

...

Vampire?!

Bella’s missed something here.

Oh dear lord, oh fy faen, she has missed something.

“Åja”, uh huh, is all she can say, and suddenly she’s very aware of the fact that she’s sitting there with a bleeding arm.

And Carlisle.

Who is a vampire.

Over the course of the following conversation Bella makes a host of discoveries.

Edward has been a vampire this whole time, and he’s a telepathic vampire. Whether Bella should be a vampire too or not has been a matter of hot debate, but due to religious reasons Edward doesn’t want that.

Carlisle also brings up how Edward died of the Spanish flu.

"Jeg var under den oppfatning at Edward fortalte deg bakhistorien min?" I was under the impression Edward told you my back story? Carlisle asks at one point, and Bella just has to ask very nicely if he’d be so kind as to repeat it.

Turns out the guy is nearly four hundred years old.

Jaha.

Jahahaha jaa ha.

That’s… a lot.

She wanders out of the house in shock, and hardly notices Edward’s strange behavior over the next couple of days.

One day he picks her up at school, and takes her behind the house.

That works out.

He’s a vampire, but he never hurt her. He is endlessly beautiful, perhaps easier to love now that she knows he’s not a god. He’s her Edward, and that’s suddenly easier now that she knows.

They can still be together.

But now that she knows this about him, it’s about time he knows something about her as well.

It’s time to finally be honest with him.

So when he opens his mouth, she opens her mouth as well, but she doesn’t get any further than to “Edward-” before he launches into a monologue.

She’ll have to wait until he’s done before saying her piece. It’s a bit embarrassing, but it doesn’t seem like he intends to stop talking anyway.

And what he’s saying seems to be serious, so it’s probably best to let him finish.

Edward concludes his monologue by kissing her forehead. Then he disappears.

Where did he go?

A big unsure, Bella goes back to the house. She’ll just have to wait until he gets back.

She doesn’t know what to think when Charlie returns from work and tells her the Cullens have all left.

Oh, god.

Edward must have found out she doesn’t speak English.

She made a mockery of him.

He has every right to leave.

Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier to live with.

Bella sinks into a depression.

The hallucinations begin, as in canon, though Hallusinward speaks Norwegian. Thank god for small mercies.

The friendship with Jacob (dictionary in hand) blooms, as someone has to help her see those hallucinations.

The cliff diving happens, and Alice shows up. Bella’s not sure what this is about, but she has gotten good enough at English to know that something bad happened, and Alice wants them to do something.

She’s a bit surprised to find herself on a plane to Italy, though.

Alice tells her to “Run to Edward” and ok, she got that, actually.

So she saves Edward.

After that she’s taken into the sewer, which turns out to house dozens of vampires.

Bella, Edward, and Alice are received in some kind of hall, where an unusual vampire has quite a bit to say. She understands some of what he’s saying, at least the part about “la tua cantante”. She knows a bit about Italian, see, so she knows that he’s talking about a song now.

She wishes she knew the context.

At one point he takes her hand, and appears fascinated by it. She wonders if he’s a palmreader. Not very vampirey, but what does she know.

He asks her a question.

"Yes," she says.

Saying yes has gotten her this far, after all.

But when he lights up and claps his hands together, and Edward and Alice stare at her in shock and betrayal, she knows she must have said the wrong thing.

The two are dismissed from the room before Bella can do or say anything, she’s just listening to Edward make a racket outside in the hallway.

Not good.

The unusual vampire brings her further down in his sewer palace to a basement, and she is given comfortable clothes to wear.

This is getting terrifying.

The vampire leans towards her - and she chickens out.

"Jeg snakker ikke engelsk!" she squeaks. "Non habla ingles!" I don’t speak English.

Han stanser, og ser forvirret ut. "Que- Hva behager*?" I beg your pardon? spør han etter et øyeblikk.

*A very formal, and slightly outdated (you can use it, but people will think you’re putting on airs. And they will be right) way of saying “excuse me?”

Sobbing, Bella tells him the whole story, from how she didn’t want to be the weird kid in school to how she’s now somehow in Italy without knowing why nor what she just agreed to.

When she’s done the vampire starts laughing.

"Dette forklarer jo en hel del," This explains quite a bit, ler han. "Men, kjære Bella, jeg er redd det ikke endrer noe." But, my dear Bella, I’m afraid it changes nothing.

He tells her that she has agreed to serve him and his army of undead warriors into eternity.

Well fuck.

"Du skal få slippe det, når du ikke visste hva du samtykket til - men skjebnen din forblir den samme. Loven er loven." You’re released from that promise, as you didn’t know what you agreed to - but your fate remains the same. The law is the law.

After a moment of silence, during which she looks terrified, he hurries to add, "Vi har en lov. Du må bli en av oss." We have a law. You must become one of us.

A law that Bella Swan has to become a vampire?

People are finally speaking Norwegian, and Bella is still lost. And it’s too embarrassing to keep pestering this poor, polite man with questions.

So she nods.

He gives her a glittering smile, and bites her.

When she wakes, Aro offers her an English course. A language course that, naturally, leads to her staying in Volterra. Why not learn a few more languages while we’re at it, dearest Bella?

Some time later Edward breaks into Volterra to save his Rapunzel, only to barely recognize her now that she’s a vampire who says things. Lots of things, she talks all the time now. WHAT DID ARO DO TO HER.

Too mortified to admit that she never spoke English, Bella claims she’s been brainwashed.

Aro is having too much fun to correct her, and the whole sad affair sets off a regrettable flood of rumors.

#troquantary #norwegian things #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #evighetens kyss #evighetens kyss meta #evighetens kyss renessanse

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eureka-its-zico · 4 years ago

Text

Irrevocably Yours

Request: hey! can i request a scenario of jungkook being a rich kid who has ome of his legs is leg failure , basically can't walk without a cane , And he falls in love with a normal girl , and they end up running away , happy ending plz , also if u can , LIT IT Up with smut ' thank u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: So. This request was sent to me a long ass time ago. I mean a LONG time ago, and I spent so much time working on it...it became too long. So I broke it up in half. Just to see if anyone actually becomes interested in how this ends. Just to see if anyone still reads anything I write. So if you end up enjoying this, please let me know and I’ll post the last of this. I have so many things buried inside my google docs that need to be set free from hibernation.

Also, I’m sorry if this isn’t any good. I’ve rewritten this a thousand times trying to fix it, and I’ve done all I can for now. I hope someone out there enjoyed this craziness. And to the original person who asked for this, if you ever see this, I’m sorry it took so long. P.s. I also took creative liberties and changed it up a little. Much love, Jenn

Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 13,756 (yeah I know, it was longer before I halved it. Sorry!)

Genre: fluffy/Smutty(later)/First Love drama sorts mess

A part of you would always remember the first day you’d met Jeon Jungkook. His presence standing in the doorway to the classroom held every single one of your classmate's attention along with yours. Jungkook silently demanded to be noticed, even though in a way he wanted no one to notice him at all. The classroom felt louder than usual, or maybe that was just how you recalled it. Maybe it's what caused the ringing in your ears when the room was swallowed up in silence. The sound of his cane hitting the stained linoleum; ticking like a time bomb with every step.

At first you couldn't see why he necessarily needed it. Jungkook was a master of hiding things. Even pain. It wasn’t until he’d reached the teachers desk, his hip moving to rest against it to ease the extra strain off his good leg, that the stories of his accident became true. Not one of you were willing to look too long at the challenge in his face. Defiance turning his soft features bitter as he glanced out across the room. Jungkook wanted to appear strong; to dare anyone to mutter even a word that he wasn’t. That he wasn’t the same person he was before the accident.

He must have been able to fool your home room teacher into forgetting. His eagerness to introduce Jungkook only caused him to accidentally come too close to his legs in passing. The teachers’ waist moved and harmlessly bump against Jungkook’s bad leg. A small movement that was enough to change Jungkook’s entire demeanor for just a second.

The whole room collectively took a breath; waiting for him to scream out in pain. To turn savage and yell or curse at the stupidity of the teacher. Jungkook did none of it. He continued to look out into the room with his chin held high.

You could see, however, through the crinkle by his eyes and how heavily he now leaned on his cane that it’s caused him a great deal of pain. A brief moment in showing what he tried to hide and if you weren’t staring so hard at him, you were sure you would’ve missed it.

An infamous legend among other schools as his face showed up on Sports articles that featured proud features of parents beaming excitedly at cameras. Taekwondo and track metal’s around his neck by the dozens. Grades to match the intensity of his athletic drive with a rumor that if he tried something for the first time, Jungkook would still be phenomenal at whatever it was.

Even without ever actually meeting him - everyone in that classroom knew who he was. Jeon Jungkook was a hard man not to hear about.

In the beginning of the year there’d been a different headline for him, however. He’d been the passenger in a friend's car that was struck by a drunk driver. The ferocity of the impact leaving the car looking like a bow. Jungkook lost a friend that night, and part of the mobility in his left leg. The driver himself died instantly and you weren't sure if that was justice enough for the two boys who’d lost so much in a matter of three seconds.

And with so much, yet so little known about him you found yourself unable to join the others in measuring up the boy in front of you.

Jungkook was taller than you thought he would be, or maybe you’d silently been hoping the universe wouldn’t be so cruel to give someone talent and every single attractive feature known to man. He’d been played up like he was a god among the rest of you feeble mortals. You figure’d girls were overacting, I mean it happens. Imagining after listening to all their swooning, you’d somehow shockingly find out he was nothing more than your average - ordinary - boy.

Jungkook was anything but ordinary.

His lean frame still retained years of training that wasn't so easily hidden, even under the layers of the school uniform. You could see the care he still placed on his outward appearance. The rising star who was still handsome, even underneath all his brooding. His school uniform strained against tight muscles in his arms and, worse, was his legs. Your cheeks heating into an embarrassed blush as his eyes landed on what seemed like your desk. It was silly to think he’d caught you gawking. Everyone was gawking at him, but even a millisecond of his gaze made your cheeks light up with embarrassment at the idea of being caught.

There was gossip of him not wanting to go back to his old school; his old life. You didn't really blame him. Why be stuck in a place where there were millions of memories of a time you had with a close friend? Of having the ability to walk down the halls without everyone looking at you like you were damaged goods.

“Everyone pay attention!” Mr. Choi shouted.

It all seemed unnecessary. Your attention was already on him whether he wanted it or not.

“I’d like to welcome our transfer student, Jeon Jungkook. I expect you all to be on your best behavior.”

“I don't need you to defend me,” he snapped.

He started moving his way down the aisle towards the only empty seat in the room: the one next to you.

You quickly turned away from him and started cleaning up your space. Jungkook got to the desk faster than you thought and dropped his backpack down on top of the desk. His long body slumped down into the seat, placing his cane next to the window seal.

“We’re going to continue with our previous lecture from yesterday. You can share with Y/N until you get your own books.”

You flipped to chapter eighteen with your many notes scattered inside. Your eyes giving him a sidelong glance before sliding the book neatly between the desks. Jungkook didn't bother to look at the pages: his gaze was locked elsewhere. Somewhere outside the window with the freedom far beyond the gates of the school.

The enter class you’d spun a hundred different sentences in your mind. Each one playing out in your head as pure idiotic or unnecessary. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that it felt wrong letting him sit there like no one cares. To be a part of the prying gazes of the class; to know his name and him not knowing yours in return. You weren't sure why you gave a shit so much, anyways, but you did.

At the sound of the bell he was the first one to hop back onto his feet. His hand instinctively taking hold of the cane to keep him propped up as he moved to situate his backpack over his shoulders. You’d followed close behind him and gathered up your things.

You didn't see him again until fifth period. His brooding presence in the back of the class hung like a dark cloud you couldn't shake. You knew you weren't necessarily the most cheerful person in the room, but even Jungkook’s sour puss attitude was making you want to throw glitter at him.

He didn't acknowledge you when you came to your usual seat at the window, and it didn't bother you. No one usually acknowledged you anyways. What did bother you was that he was sitting in your window seat. Statistics was by far your least favorite subject this year, and the one thing that kept you sane was that window seat.

“That's my spot.”

Your voice didn't hold any hint of malice. It was just definitive: you wanted your seat. Jungkook didn't look at you straight away. His eyes still daydreaming through the window and the world beyond. When he did finally look at you, you were sure the annoyance in his face was meant to send you packing. Too bad for him you’d seen worse.

“Is that look supposed to scare me? It doesn't change the fact you're in my spot.”

“I don't see your name on it.”

Your laughter turned to a scoff; cut short by your disbelief.

“What are we in middle school? If you want to get technical, it was assigned by the teacher aka my name is theoretically on that seat. So -”

You acted like he was a pet you could shoo off your bed. The hand motion earning you his brow to raise in return.

“You’d really make a cripple get up?”

“Is that what we’re calling you? A cripple? Because it looks to me like you’re still capable of doing things, oh say, a paraplegic can't.”

The anger rolled through him suddenly like storm clouds. All the possibilities of playful mischief disappeared as he regarded you with so much hate, it was as if he’d struck you.

“Oh, really? I didn't realize that they were giving away M.D titles in high schools now.”

Your mouth opened to - to what? Apologize? The sensitive part of you told you that you should. His accident hadn't been a full year yet, and here you were badgering him. Yet, you knew if you continuously babied him like everyone else it was only going to do more harm than good. Your next choice of words were cut short when your teacher walked in and asked why you were still standing.

“He’s in my spot.”

God, now who sounded like they were in middle school? Your teacher seemed to draw a blank. His gaze moving from you to Jungkook then back to you.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You did so with a huff. Your arms pulling your backpack you’d sat down on the desk closer to you like a pillow. Just so you could rest your chin on top of it and tried to ignore the smirk that was now on Jungkook’s face.

After you’d gone to your next class you couldn't stop thinking about your exchange. It turned your mood sour the rest of the day, and you couldn't understand why. A part of you wondering if it was because of your choice of words or the defeat that shown all too bright in his doe eyes.

The end of the day couldn't have come fast enough. You just wanted to get home and out of your uniform and maybe get a chance to go take some photos before your parents got home. You were too preoccupied with thoughts of where you wanted to go, and what coffee shop you wanted to stop at, when you collided into the back of someone else. A loud curse followed suit of the sound of a cane dropping on pavement making your eyes shut tight and your throat constrict around a groan.

“Jesus, can't you watch where you’re goi- oh, it's you. Enjoy attacking cripples, do we?”

You opened your eyes to see a less than amused smile on his face. He acted more like a judge at your hearing and whatever sentencing he was giving out, it wasn’t in your favor.

“I’m sorry I wasn't paying attention.”

You moved to pick up his cane for him when his hand angrily swatted yours away making you jump back a step.

“I don't need your charity. I can do it myself!”

“No one said you couldn’t! I was only trying to be nice.”

“Yeah, well, go and be nice somewhere else.”

He situated his weight on his good leg and bent at the knee low enough for his hand to reach out and grab his second form of support. The movement so graceful that it left you stunned, but not as much as his words did.

“You know, just because something bad happened to you, it doesn't give you the right to be an asshole. You aren't the only person to lose someone or something important. Get over yourself.”

With your hands latched underneath the straps of your backpack you stomped around him. Not caring that you left him standing stone still. His mouth slightly agape as he watched you take your exit.

During your walk home, somehow, Jungkook plagued your thoughts. Your mind unable to comprehend why you were still thinking about him. It was the first time you’d met, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. If you were being honest with yourself you knew from replaying the last thing you said to him.The look on his face saying plainly that you were an asshole.

Everyone’s pain mattered. Grief and loss wasn’t measured by anyone else’s pain but the person who experienced it, and to diminish it in any way was unfair. Regret was building inside your chest and it was all you could do to keep your feet from sprinting back in his direction.

When you got home you went directly to your room, throwing your bag on the bed, and sulked to your desk. You had more pressing matters to attend to than a boys’ possible hurt feelings. No matter how many times you tried, however, you weren’t able to write out theories on government history or explain anatomical questions.

The only thing your brain appeared to focus on was how to apologize.

You thought about Jungkook while you showered and brushed your teeth. You thought of him when you laid in bed and struggled to find a way to sleep. Your mind playing out the million different possibilities of how your apology would be taken from him. You didn't necessarily understand what it felt like to have your dreams stolen from you. To be forced to cope with a new life you hadn’t asked for and the emptiness of losing someone you loved all in one go.

If the tables were turned and it was you, wouldn’t you feel equally as bitter?

The following morning in between toaster cooked waffles and fixing your uniform in the mirror, you’d resigned to apologizing to him. No matter how much thinking of it made your teeth grind and a growl rise in your chest at the thought. You imagined him sneering and replying with smart remarks and it caused your mind to waver, but you were better than the pettiness swelling in your chest. You were okay with knowing his prickled exterior came from something you couldn't ever understand.

You made sure all the time you had while you walked to school was used up by mumbling the speech you’d made up the night before. At crosswalks practicing the best stance that didn't appear threatening, was friendly, but wouldn't be misconstrued as flirting.

That was by far the last thing you wanted to happen in his eyes. Sure, Jungkook was undeniably attractive...as much as you would've loved to laugh sarcastically in his perfectly sculpted face that his obviously very masculine features did nothing to make you weak in the knees. That you hadn’t noticed when his elbows, still clad in his jacket, moved to rest on the desk it’d caused his biceps and shoulders to equally fight for whatever was left of the fabric. Or that small scar on his cheek caught your attention when he became annoyed; his tongue poking out at the side of his jaw.

No, you hadn't been paying an embarrassing amount of attention to him at all (or at the ridiculous outline of his thigh muscles in his school uniform) with every step he took.

So, since you hadn't personally taken notice of any of physically appealing traits, why would you flirt? You were well aware of the vast difference of not only your social scale, but also of your class ranking, and looks overall. You were lightyears away from ever being able to consider being more than a female acquaintance he happened to get stuck next to at school. He wasn't the first boy who was out of your league, and Jungkook wouldn't be the last. Why it bothered you so much was a child's thought you refused to entertain.

When you finally got to school you hurried up the steps and briskly made your way down the hall. Not stopping even after Jenny cursed after you for nudging her as you went by. As soon as you swung open the door for homeroom, your eyes landed on Jungkook’s position. His cane leaning against the desk, hands tucked inside the pockets of his uniform slacks as he leaned back against the chair.

His gaze was focused somewhere outside the window, completely blank and motionless, and you wondered if he could've been having a thought at all. He was close to being marked as unreal in your book when he blinked and turned his gaze towards you.

You hadn't realized you’d been staring until that moment. Your gaze dropping to the worn linoleum as you briskly made your way down to your desk. A mumbled, “Good morning,” falling like a bad habit from your lips while you came around the side to slid into the desk chair. Nervous hands clutching tightly to your bag as you stared straight ahead, unwilling to glance in his direction.

Somewhere between cursing your awkwardness and staring out the window like an escape hatch your teacher started the lecture. None of it to which you were paying attention too, which was probably why you heard him call your name. You jerked in your seat as he yelled it a second time. Your eyes no doubt wide from giggles that sounded around the room.

“Y/N, since you're listening, you can go ahead and answer number forty-seven in the workbook.”

Panic sent your eyes wide as you stared back at his expectant face: waiting for you to fail. You hadn't even taken your book out since you’d sat down, finally moving to do so, when you felt a light tap against your bag. It was enough to jerk your gaze away from the teacher and down to a completed book of all the problems done by Jungkook.

He cleared his throat and tucked his hands back inside the pockets of his trousers easily not understanding the severity of how his actions had left you wide-eyed in surprise. You were still taking too long, causing your teacher to prompt you with a grunt and Jungkook to casually reach out and tap the answer again. Your eyes trailing over the written answer before standing up and clearing your throat. The answer rolling off your tongue as easy as breathing; as if you didn't just steal it from a notebook.

You made a silent prayer the teacher didn't notice the sweat threatening to break at your temple. The nervous ticking of your feet tilting from spot to spot. A rush of relief escaping your lips when his response to your answer was to continue class.

You took your seat next to Jungkook; unable to acknowledge him just yet for saving you from whatever punishment your teacher would've no doubt thought of. The realization that Jungkook himself was the reason for your lack of concentration making your cheeks flush an embarrassing pink making your arms wrap protectively around your backpack.

You’d never even brought out your textbook. Never dropped your bag from your desk and no doubt Mr. Choi knew you were given the answer. You buried your mouth against the coarse nylon in a weak attempt to stifle your embarrassment.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes caught the soft tilt of his brow as it rose at the muffled words. You could make out his left shoulder leaning him down towards your huddled position, making your hands involuntarily tighten into your backpack.

“What was that?”

The husky whisper of his words weren't anything you’d heard before, and they resonated up your spine to leave you staring starry-eyed.

“Th-thank you. For giving me the answer.”

He didn't respond. His gaze fixed solely on your face until you forcibly struggled to keep from fidgeting under its weight. After what felt like a small eternity, Jungkook nodded his head and faced forward. The sudden ghost of the death of your conversation causing you to blink at his profile.

The rest of the class was spent with your focus lacking on taking notes. How could you focus with his presence commanding your attention? A small army of ants creeping along your nerves demanding to acknowledge him. It was so strong, when the bell rang you jumped up from your seat to try and escape into the freedom of the school’s hallway, only to end up with your knee connecting straight into the hardwood of the desk. Jungkook’s snort at your misfortune was enough to remind you how much of an arrogant pain in the ass he could be.

“Wow - good job doofus.”

Your head snapped back in his direction; tongue rolling in your cheek as he hopped up from his seat. A hand snaking out to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder as the other reached for his cane. You held your head high despite how awful your knee was stinging, and stood up adjusting your bag.

“Seriously? That's all you've got? Doofus? Next time let’s try harder.”

Jungkook didn't seemed miffed by your retort, actually seeming more amused than anything, and for some reason it only bugged you more. Did you really want to get into another argument like you were in primary school with him? You discarded the thought as you tightened the strings on your backpack and decided to take the mature route and leave him behind.

The hallways mass of bodies rushing to get to their next period giving you comfort; until you remembered you shared the same economics class. Today was also a field trip to a farm to learn the process of making soy products. It would take up the last few classes of the day. You’d been excited to spend the day out of class and enjoy the rustic scenery out of town. Your only hope was that he hadn't been able to get his parental slip signed; he’d just started the day before. How could he?

When the teacher walked in and asked Jungkook for his permission slip you wanted to howl. Why was the universe so cruel? But why did you care so much?

It was a question you didn't bother to think about; you just grumbled the whole way to the bus. Your teacher standing at its entrance to put a check by your names every time one of your classmates passed him by like lined up cattle. You were the last checkmark: the last person to find an available seat. You rounded the final step and your stomach sank down into your shoes. The universe seeming to play a sick joke of musical chairs; your only options being Jungkook or Amber, the girl who actively struggled to make sure your life was a living hell.

You’d rather be eaten by dogs than even attempt to sit with her. Jungkook it was, then.

Your hand clasped tighter around the strap of your bag as you moved it farther up your shoulder. A large sigh accommodating your steps as you side-stepped down the aisle ending with you in front of his seat. His cane taking up what was left of it.

Jungkook didn't seem to register your presence or he just decided to pretend you weren't there. Either way you felt your annoyance grow as you cleared your throat to grab his attention. His chin barely leaving the perch of his fist as his head turned; gaze intimidating in a way that left your fingers pinching the fabric of yours clothes just to make sure they were still there and he hadn't stared straight through them.

“Can I help you?”

“I need a seat.”

He looked back and no doubt noticed the open spot next to Amber. Jungkook’s giving the slightest nod as he retorted, “There’s one right back there.”

“Come on, Jungkook. What do you want?”

“You're bribing me now?”

His smile was so bright, borderline adorable, and you hated how it threatened to make you retaliate with your own.

“Stop being a brat and just tell me,” you snapped instead.

Jungkook shot a quick glance back at Amber’s giggling figure. You were sure most people thought she sounded like wind chimes or something else cute and feminine, but to you it just sounded like a cat dying. When he looked back at you, Jungkook checked you out one last time. His eyes stopping at the lone earbud that sat against your chest. For a moment, you thought he was actually staring at your breasts making your cheeks burn and your gaze to look anywhere else but at his smug face.

“Let me listen to your iPod there and back on this trip, and I'll let you sit with me.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

Jungkook did a lavish hand sweep at the window. The motion reminding you of the showgirls on The Price is Right, making you believe maybe he’d somehow watched it, and one too many times.

“You get to use your imagination while you look out the window.”

“No way. Joint custody.”

“Fine. Joint custody, but I get to pick the music the whole way. If you have shitty taste the deal's off.”

He stuck out his hand for you to shake and there was a moment, a minor second, that it felt like you were making a deal with the devil. However, the sound of Amber’s laughter practically had your hand bolting into Jungkook’s. You shook it harder than was necessary before dropping it and shooing him to move.

Jungkook removed his bag and cane from the seat. Your legs giving out moments later so you could plop down in it, only to be greeted by his outstretched hand. The smile that spread across his lips shining brighter than the mischief in his eyes.

“As per our agreement: the iPod.”

He wiggles his fingers and you wanted to smack him. Your own squeezing tighter against the metal until, reluctantly, you chose your fate by placing it into his hand. Jungkook didn’t seem to mind your current look of displeasure while you watched him begin to scroll through your assorted music collection.

At least the seat was warm.

The first few seconds were somehow more awkward than you thought possible. Eyes locked in a fifty-yard stare so intense a soldier would’ve been envious. The only movement you caught of him was from your peripherals. Jungkook’s thumbs picking up speed from the leisurely way he scanned through the artists you’d offered. And no you did not, whatsoever, happen to notice the way his bottom lip would dart inside his mouth just to be held gently between his teeth. All the while his eyes focused on the task in front of him.

Nope. You weren’t paying attention to him. Not even a little bit. So how he was able to make you jump twelve inches out of your skin, while you were most definitely not embarrassing yourself by gawking over a beautiful man, was beyond you.

“Ya!” Jungkook clicked his tongue in distaste. His hand wiggling the ipod in your direction, as if it had caused some great offense. “What is this?”

Your neck tiled as you regarded him like he’d grown two heads. You were also positive if your eyebrows knitted together any harder you’d end up with a unibrow.

“Ugh, a mystical device that plays music.”

The look on Jungkook’s face faltered from frustration to annoyance. It was so sudden it ended up sending a bark of laughter in his direction. And just like that, the annoyed look was back again.

“I mean, what the hell do you have on this thing. Who is The Dead Weather? City and Colour? Joji?”

“They are artists I enjoy.”

“They’re shit.”

You rushed to try and snatch it back from him. Jungkook’s reflexes proving to be faster than your growing urge to smack him.

“Excuse me, little miss,” he began. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He used his index finger to push gently against your forehead, but with the current level of irritation, he still proved faster than you. Your failed attempt to swat his hand away meeting only empty air. Earning you a smirk of smug satisfaction.

“I’m trying to get my things back.”

“That wasn’t part of our agreement.”

You tried one last time to take him by surprise. Your right hand shot out too hard to grab at the object clasped in his large hands. The momentum carried you forward to land shoulder first against his chest. Leg nudging against his with enough force that it caused his cane to move an inch. It took everything you had to keep your head down to hide your flaming cheeks.

“And now you’re assaulting me.”

If your eyes were capable of rolling back any father you might've seen brain cells.

“I was only trying to get my property back. Since the only thing that’s coming out of you is complaining.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snapped. “You’re acting like an Indian giver.”

“Is that all you know how to do: complain?” You continued, completely ignoring him. A slight smirk now etching your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flicking down to notice your amusement at his expense. “I believe they call it, ‘trying something new.’”

His eyes narrowed on you and for a split second your pulse began to race. Sure, the agitation on his face at your teasing was obvious, but you could’ve sworn...maybe...just maybe he was smirking. Could you have possibly been able to make him smile?

“I should make you go sit with Amber.”

The smugness in his voice and the cocky smile that joined it instantly made whatever fun you were having come to a complete halt. Jungkook was so pleased with himself he had the audacity to shimmy his shoulders like he’d already won. The rolls had reversed. It was your eyes turn to throw daggers in his direction.

“Now who's the Indian giver.”

Even though he played up on what he felt like was a win, you could tell he was not as amused. His non-injured leg bounced to an incredible rhythm that he could only hear. Probably a furious count to a hundred to keep himself from saying anything else to continue your usual thrilling conversations. So when he handed over one earbud, and the iPod, but placed the other into his ear, it was fair to say it left you baffled.

You were waiting so long for him to give an explanation, but all he did was continue to stare at you. It was starting to make your pulse race again. Why did he constantly have to feel so intense? Everything about him. Not even his current state made him seem any less notable. It just didn’t seem fair.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat did you realize you’d been staring. For god knows how damn long.

“You gonna play something or not?” he asked.

His hand motioned towards the music while his fingers adjusted the earbud he’d kept.

“I’m so confused.”

“You look it,” he retorted, causing your earlier thoughts to remember, although handsome, he was an incredible pain in the ass.

“Ten seconds ago you complained about my music. Now you want me to play it for you.”

Jungkook turned his gaze away, his body relaxing back against the hard foam of the seat. His eyes still cast outside the window as if he was trying to find some way to escape.

“Either I can spend the next couple hours listening to you talk, or “try” out some new music. If I have a choice, I’ll pick the music please and thank you.”

Oh, how you wish you could’ve shoved him out that tiny window. But as much as you hated to admit it, Jungkook was right. Music was the only reasonable escape from possibly having either of you commit murder.

It was your turn to try and get comfortable. This time your thumb scanning down the list of artists until your eyes caught sight of one he’d mentioned. Without giving him warning you pressed play. The haunting melody of Joji’s “Dancing in the Dark,” flooded the earbuds. His voice melancholic as he began to sing a sad tale of not wanting to be the hidden second option.

The song choice was enough to finally get Jungkook to look back at you. Somehow already having enough with the song choice before it’d barely even reached the chorus.

“Just listen.”

It was the only advice you could give him, and hopefully the reassurance you’d tried to ease into your tone was enough. Whether it was or not, by the time the chorus began he seemingly relaxed again into the seat. His arms moving to cross lazily against his chest. He seemed to actually be taking in the song while he watched out the window. The passing of the steel and concrete that was Seoul into the rural areas of green and forest.

The music itself was calming. It was enough to let yourself fully relax back against it and close your eyes. With your eyes closed you could easily fade out the sounds of the sporadic conversations on the bus. Even though you only had one ear bud, all you needed was to concentrate on the music to drown out the world.

It took a few seconds for you to be pulled into a Joji’s song about terrible longing and being left behind by a lover. I mean, you didn’t really know too much about the latter, but hey, a girl could daydream. His voice was seconds away from heading into the second verse of the chorus, when you heard the sound of the melody being lightly sung beside you.

The voice was beautiful. The most startling part, not the fact of its softness, or the way it swelled in perfect harmony with the song, was that it came from Jungkook. Your eyes flung open with your head snapping to gaze at his serene expression. He continued to face the window, daylight playing along the profile of his face, and his gentle voice singing perfectly in tune.

It wasn’t loud enough that anyone else could’ve heard it over the dozens of bursting conversations being spoken throughout the bus. That the only conclusion you could come up with to why he would be singing at all. He thought no one would be able to pay attention. You probably would’ve stayed gawking at him if his eyes fluttering open didn’t send you crashing back against the seat and clutching your eyes shut. You needed to pretend you hadn’t noticed. Or else he would stop. He would hide this part of himself that showed he was more than what he tried to portray.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was glancing in your direction. To see his eyes gaze over you with suspicion before settling back and listening to the next track. Khalid’s intro of “Talk,” beginning to play into your earbud.

You spent the rest of the trip staying beside him, close as you could get without looking creepy, just to hear him gently sing. He breathed a gentle version of each one he knew, or came to like, and made it his own. Even being a few times were his nerves got the better of him. His voice rising ever slightly when he drew too deep into the song. He would quiet after each outburst, but to your pleasure Jungkook would start back up moments later.

After all the bickering, you could definitely say the trade was worth it. You were so taken with listening to him that when the bus came to a stop, you didn’t realize it until your earbud was yanked from your ears. Your eyes heavy from sleep fluttered open and closed a few times before they focused on Jungkook’s face.

“Ya, didn’t you hear them call us off the bus?”

Your response came in the form of slow blinks and a mouth half-hung open. You wished more for a nap than going out to explore a farm, but your limbs were screaming to be stretched. You went to answer him when, instead, Jungkook grabbed his bag, cane, and started to try and scoot over you.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to get by! So excuse me!”

His backside rubbed against your arms and, to your horror, your chest. Without thinking, your hand lashed out to smack across his bottom causing both of you to go as still as the dead. Your heart was thundering as you looked at your hand like it’d just finished committing murder. Maybe it had. But the only person it’d murdered was you with your eyes roaming up to see a shocked Jungkook gawking down at you over his shoulder.

“Did you really just smack my ass.”

“It was an accident!”

“An accident?” He questioned.

“Self-defense!”

Jungkook tried to hide the amusement your no doubt panicking was causing him. His mouth struggling to keep the frown that was tilting ever so slightly at the top of his lips.

“If anything needed to be defended, it was my honor. Over here just smacking people’s ass’s without a warning.”

You knew by now your face looked like a fire hydrant.

“Self-defense from you dragging your ass all over me! I’m not a seat, ya know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

This time Jungkook didn’t try to hide his smile. To your surprise, it wasn’t a malicious one that showed he enjoyed your embarrassment. No. This one decorated his face in something softer that made your heart thunder to a different rhythm entirely.

“Oh, look you guys. Shit Stain and The Cripple are flirting.”

Amber’s grating voice was one you’d grown painstakingly accustomed too. The sinister way she spoke impossibly loud just so everyone was forced to hear her. Whether they wanted to or not. You were used to her coldness and the constant way she harassed you. What you weren’t so used to, was having Jungkook as part of the punchline.

Immediately, you felt his legs tense where they touched you. The muscles ramrod straight and flexing under the skin. The lighthearted tone you’d heard seconds before in your banter was now replaced with an aloofness that made you stiffen in your seat. Jungkook’s jaw held tight as he regarded Amber as if she were no more than a pest buzzing at his ear.

“Ya, fix your nose before you bother talking to me. I can see half the planet up there.”

Amber’s eyes flashed hellfire as she glowered over her shoulders to stop the giggling that ensued. When all grew quiet enough to where she felt like she would be heard, a harsh smile spread her lips. Her legs began to take a step to move away from the two peasants who’d held enough of her attention.

“Whatever, Cripple. Try not to get your stick in any holes.”

She was passing the front of your shared seat when, suddenly, Amber’s legs gave way. A tumbling mess of shrieks, bleached hair, and her arms flapping rapidly a solid indication of her mysterious attempt at taking flight. The only thing that moved to catch her was her face. The minute the laughter began to bubble up inside you, you quickly placed a hand over your mouth. Least the she-devil hear it escape.

You took a second to inspect what could’ve possibly taken down the ice queen. Even when she wore ridiculously high heels, Amber walked with a grace you knew you’d never pull off. Not without looking like a newborn giraffe, that is. Glancing down you noticed Jungkook’s cane strategically placed right where her foot would’ve landed. The culprit in making Amber a freshly minted carpet on the bus’s floor. Somewhere on the bus you knew she was up from her tumble and huffing a few choice words. You were sure she knew, just like you did, that Jungkook was the one who’d done it. You paid no attention to her tantrum and kept a transfixed gaze on him.

He’d finished scooting the rest of the way to get to the middle of the bus and was situating his cane and shoulder bag. His hand suddenly reaching down into view and patiently waiting for you to take it.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.”

You knew you looked like a fool. Your eyes mirroring the thousands of silent questions that threatened to make you ill. A part of you hoping he understood your dumbfounded look simply begged him to find some way to answer you. You’d stared starry-eyed up at him for so long you half expected the patience of Jungkook’s open hand to fall flat. Instead, he continued to surprise you. His gaze gentle, and hand openly waiting for you to take it when you were ready.

With eyes wide and mouth agape, your body rejected your stunned silence and placed a small hand in his. His own quickly enveloped yours perfectly and gave you the added support you needed to find stable footing beside him. Jungkook finally looked away from you to stare at the remaining goons.

The moment you stood beside him you became painfully aware of the noticeable height difference. Your gaze moving up inch-by-inch until your eyes were locked onto his face. The stubbornness of a hard set jaw and eyes that dared anyone to speak enough to make your heartbeat pick up in your chest. When he appeared to be finished making sure his presence was known, Jungkook’s eyes turned back to you. A silent request of reassurance to know you were alright making you answer with a quick nod.

Your cheeks blushed furiously as you struggled to look away from his gaze. No longer were you so worried about Amber; your mind trapped on a repeat of questions. Did Jungkook always smell like Calvin Klein cologne? Could it be considered weird how you felt undeniable comfort pressed up against him? Or really weird if in your head you suddenly imagined recreating this scene a million times later with you being braver beside him, instead of being the damsel in distress.

He didn’t seem at all perplexed with your case of sudden shyness. His strong legs pulling you both forward and past the horde of Amber and her lackeys without missing a step. His head held high while the other hand helped him keep his balance without using his cane. For the small world that was high school, Jungkook showed them he was still that once popular boy who was known for not taking shit from no one. A demi-god amongst mere mortals that were somehow honored by his presence.

And here you were. So close to the orbit of his sun and walking away unscathed.

Your train of rushing thoughts kept you from paying attention. It was something you soon were going to regret when he led you off the steps of the bus and onto the dirt road. Jungkook’s exit was obviously graceful while yours in comparison was a train wreck. Instead of your feet stepping off the last step and landing like a normal person, you lost your footing. Your clumsy feet sending you struggling to find a balance with the earth before you crash landed on the floor. Luckily, Jungkook’s back was there to catch you.

The momentum of your fall sent his feet skittering to correct you both before you fell into the dirt. A few choice cuss words leaving his lips and crimson flaring up on your cheeks to make the dance of falling even more entertaining. You could practically hear the cackling of the witches echoing out of the bus like a cave.

Jungkook made quick work of righting you both; his good leg furiously hoping to support the weak one. His cane dug into the earth a good inch to add some more stabilization. You let go of his hand and moved away from his side where you’d previously been planted. You weren’t worthy of being there. This boy who saw your distress and helped you. Only for you to ruin it in the process.

“Well that’s one way to ruin an exit,” he huffed.

He glanced in your direction and you could’ve sworn he was smiling. Or was that a smirk? Whatever it was, it was quickly washed away as his eyes took you in. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry!”

Your words rushed from your lips with your back snapping to bow a perfect ninety-degrees. Your hair a curtain to try and hide your embarrassment.

“Ugh...for what?”

“For bumping into you like that. I should’ve been paying attention.”

A soft laugh bounced from between his lips and you were willing to beat his face lit up like pure sunshine. You moved to stand upright just in time to see you were right. Jungkook was either oblivious to the way you were looking at him, or was simply unfazed. His shoulder hiking the backpack where it’d begun to fall as he adjusted himself to get ready to move to join the rest of the class up ahead.

“You did ruin one hell of a stylish exit.”

“I don’t know how stylish you can be stepping off of a school bus, but...thank you.”

The both of you locked eyes with one another. A large part of you hoped Jungkook was able to see the sincerity or at least hear it. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a pain in the ass after all. That soft smirk you’d grown accustomed to etched back on his lips as he took the first step towards your waiting classmates.

“No problem. Plus, I figured I owed you for letting me listen to your music.”

You felt your brow shoot up in mock surprise. Your legs falling into step beside him.

“I thought you said I had terrible taste.”

“I never said terrible,” Jungkook corrected. His eyes danced with a playfulness that lifted a smile to your lips

“You could’ve fooled me.”

“Well, it wasn’t the greatest, but thank you. I actually ended up liking most of it, at least.”

“Oh, what a sweet way of insulting my musical taste.”

“Hey! I said I liked most of it. It’s like a win-win. Kinda.”

You wanted to be snappy. Give him some more hell for always playing up on being a condescending moody jerk. In reality, walking next to Jungkook while the silence swelled around you without the awkward pressure; you knew that wasn’t all of him. He’d proven how sweet he could be at the memory of how easily you’d felt protected by a simple stretch of a hand. The look in his eyes while he waited for you to take his extended hand a plea to know you could trust him. Strangely, a part of you already felt like you could.

You snuck a look over in Jungkook’s direction, and felt a smile begin to sweep up the corners of your lips. It was a different, but nice, change to have someone come to your defense. Yeah, most of the time you wanted to throttle him for seeming like he could care less. In that moment, however, he cared enough to help. That had to mean something.

“You’re welcome.”

You hoped your words conveyed the gratitude you felt in that moment. Prayed that Jungkook could hear it. When he looked at you, you made sure to give him a quick smile before you looked away. Your eyes struggled not to look back at him; to tell him all the things that were racing through your head. It took every ounce of your will to stay focused on the group of classmates that were growing closer. Somewhere along the way, you’d hoped Jungkook would’ve replied with his usual smart ass remarks. It worried you how sad a small part of you felt at his silence.

Now, you worried maybe you were going a little nuts.

Instead, you came to the edge of the group in silence. Your ears struggling to grasp on to the middle of what your teacher gave out for instructions for the day.

So what if that insane part of you didn’t receive a smart ass remark in return for your gratitude. You were more than happy with the fact Jungkook stayed by your side. The close proximity just enough to convey what you were both feeling without unnecessary words.

______________

For the past hour the farmer -Kim Sejung - had shown the class around his vast property. The beginning of this magical tour starting with where he manufactured the tofu once it was fermented then sent down to be processed for packaging. He was a man who took immense pride in his work. The next room where the fermentation took place and, his overeager explanation, spelled out how devoted he was to his craft.

The whole entire backwards presentation was something your teacher decided became a chance for everyone to write down everything you’d been shown. A punishment you knew was coming when Kim Sejung lost half the class to their own conversations long before you’d hit the second part of his speech.

Now, anyone could be wondering why all of you were taking the longest stroll of your life out in the middle of the farm. A fair question you’d been asking yourself since you realized your shoes were completely covered in mud. You’d been trying to understand why this hadn’t been the first place Kim Sejung would’ve taken all of you. Your only guess being he just enjoyed showing the process backwards. Or maybe he was secretly a mastermind at torture. It was the only logical conclusion you could come up with at having the entire class now out in the muddy acres of his farm.

And sure, maybe your attention was being sent over your shoulder every five seconds. A certain boy with exhaustion creased in his brow making it harder for you to ignore. You were looking back so often you felt like you’d end up with whiplash at any minute. Really, it was all Jungkook’ fault for causing you to worry; becoming painfully aware with each glance at Jungkook’s struggling frame.

How Sejung -, or anyone else for that matter, hadn’t noticed he was falling further behind the group with every step left you completely perplexed. You’d gave up listening to whatever the farmer or teacher talked about or what questions they were throwing around. You could bet it had to do about soil.

If everyone else could ignore him why couldn’t you? It’s not that you hadn’t tried, cause of course you’d done exactly that. Your bottom lip now held a semi-permanent indent from your teeth. Whenever you felt that tick in your neck to look back to check on him: you bit down. When you felt like drawing attention to him by saying something: you bit down. A part of you willing to bet Jungkook would never forgive you if you did.

Your solution? It was ingenious, really.

You fell back behind every classmate. Patiently, you waited for everyone to pass you up. Your feet dragging in the muddy dirt until you were sure no one would notice when you inevitably stopped.

With a soft count of three under your breath, you came to a halt at the back of the group. Your small count continued for another round before you were comfortable with the distance it’d placed between the group, Jungkook, and yourself.

You let out a huff of satisfaction as you turned around to give Jungkook your complete attention. Your neck thanking you for the small favor. What you found, however, greeting you was far from what you’d hoped to find.

Jungkook’s current location became a solid five feet behind the group. His feet finally coming to the large puddle of mud that you and the class had easily maneuvered Jungkook had not. His struggle coming to a standstill at the muddy puddles edge. Jungkook’s face etched itself in harsh determination to no doubt allow him from moving forward. You told yourself you would stay back and wait for him.

Just wait, You kept telling yourself over and over. A broken record having nothing on what you felt capable of standing there. Your pulse bonding in your veins and feet bouncing with anxiety as he assessed his options. All you were supposed to do was hang back to walk with him. That was it. You weren’t his nanny. You knew how he felt about being pitied, and yet, when he took his first tentative step out into the mud and his cane sunk deep and his bad leg followed suit, your feet deceived you.

It appeared Mother Nature had her own way of pushing you past your reserved good intentions. Your feet sprinted forward fast enough that you were embarrassed at their quickness. The expected movement bringing Jungkook’s frustrated gaze up from his current dilemma to you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?”

The annoyance held in his question didn’t go unnoticed by you. If it was you in his position, you’d be annoyed seeing you standing there too and not offering to help.

“I came to help you.”

The words just streamed out with your running thoughts. Your feet willing to move forward back into the mud to help him. Jungkook noticeably began to struggle to remove his foot that submerged quickly underneath.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“You didn’t have too, Jungkook. I want to help.”

“Let me rephrase myself.” His irritation was pure fire in his eyes as his words hurled in your direction. “I didn’t ask for it and I don’t want it.”

You wish you could say you handled his dismissal with grace. That you understood he was only being a jerk because he was embarrassed and angry at his current predicament. You really wanted to be that bigger person. Well...that most definitely wasn’t what happened.

Your eyes narrowed in on him. Your previous desire to help evaporated as you watched his leg sink deeper. His other foot soon joined the first in a poorly calculated attempt to release the other. Your arms crossed over your chest as you took in the scene before you.

“Well, Jungkook, I’m not sure if you noticed but you’re slowly heading towards being buried under that mud.”

“Thank you for that astute observation. Anything else you’d like to add?”

“Why are you being such an asshole?!” you snapped.

Your arms came loose down at your side and turned to clenched fists. You weren’t exactly sure what you expected his reaction to be. You knew Jungkook held a hatred for being pitied. Hell, you would too if it was the other way around. You knew he wasn’t helpless, but you also knew he couldn’t do everything alone. No one could. So what was so wrong with offering to help him?

You weren’t sure how you looked. Maybe crazy? Or did the desperation of not knowing how to handle the situation have you appear sad? Whatever it was Jungkook saw, it was enough to look away. His eyes dropping down to his covered feet.

The space between the two of you swelled with tension. His hair perfectly covering his face, and kept you from being able to steal any glance. It was enough to make you unsure if you should prepare yourself for a verbal battle with him or if you should simply walk away. What if you’d made a mistake thinking Jungkook would want to be bothered at all with help. Especially from you.

“God, this is embarrassing.”

His words were so light you weren’t sure at first if he’d spoken. A part of you wondering if you’d made up the sound of his voice as Jungkook’s face continued to be hidden by layers of hair. But, lord help you, you knew you weren’t imagining things. The sound of his voice is something you’d come to recognize with ease. You knew without a doubt it most definitely was him. And the sadness that reverberated from his words made your anger dissipate instantly.

“What?”

Could you have picked a stupider response? When Jungkook lifted his head up to look at you, you knew he silently agreed.

“It’s embarrassing!” His hands motioned to take in his current predicament. The hurt shown on his proud features made your heart ache to comfort him. “How pitiful can I get? It’s so damn frustrating! The cripple unable to get himself out of some stupid mud.”

“Jungkook, you are literally the least pitiful person I’ve ever met.”

“And yet, it doesn’t make me any less stuck.”

You took a step forward and began to try and edge around what you could of the puddle. You knew there was no way you weren’t getting more mud on your shoes, but the purpose was worth it.

“Why didn’t you just go around it?” Your question earned you a dead stare. One that reminded you of your mother when she felt like you’d asked the silliest question. You held your hands up in surrender and said, “Hey. It’s a fair question.”

“If I just go around it, it proves that I can’t do the simplest thing, Y/N. It proves…”

“That you aren’t like everybody else,” you finished for him.

You could’ve kicked yourself. How could you not have noticed it sooner. Jungkook just wanted to prove to himself that he could still do things like he did before his accident. Because even though he showed people bringing up his disability didn’t bother him, it did. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened, and believed the current state of his leg deemed him less worthy.

He looked away from whatever he saw in your eyes. His own fighting not to show the sadness that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“You aren’t like everyone else, Jungkook.” Your words tore his head back in your direction. His shoulders quickly squared up to take whatever verbal blow you were about to hurl in his direction. You were happy to convince him otherwise.

“You don’t need to prove anything to a single person. Yeah, you aren’t a hundred percent who you used to be, but it doesn’t make you any less you. You aren’t defined by a damn leg and if another human being does treat you differently because of it: fuck’em. Now, get your shit together and hand me the end of your cane.”

The both of you stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Jungkook’s face unreadable as his eyes took you in making you squirm just the slightest bit. Whether he was looking for a hint that you were deceiving him; that something hurtful laid underneath, he wouldn’t find it. You made sure with your hand this time open and waiting for him, that he could see just how much you meant what you said.

After what felt like a baby size eternity, Jungkook answered you in a way you’d grown to expect. In one swift motion, he picked his cane out from the mud and placed it, dirty end first into your waiting hand. Your face scrunched up in disgust, as the leftover mud squished between your fingers. The action enough to break the coldness of Jungkook’s blank expression into the smirk that was all too familiar.

“Oh my god! You would do that.”

The amusement on his face was enough to tell you he’d most definitely done it on purpose. Of course, you’d already known that. You didn’t need his raised eyebrow or that devilish smirk to inform you of that.

“Oh, so you think you know me now.”

“I know enough to know, without a doubt, this is something you’d do. Brat.”

You saved the last word for good measure and it was met with a bark of surprise laughter. His reaction was not something you’d expected, but a welcomed one as his face instantly lit up brighter than you’d ever seen. Jungkook’s laughter and smile was genuine and good god, was it breathtakingly adorable.

Who knew calling him a brat led to so many heart stopping possibilities? Like no longer having a permanent scowl.

“Alright smart ass, how about we settle this for when I’m not stuck in the mud.”

“You got yourself a deal. Only if you stop pouting.”

“I was not pouting!”

It was your turn to laugh wholeheartedly while your other hand moved to secure itself to his cane. There was no way you’d be letting it slip free from you. Mud or no mud.

“Tomato potato: pouting is pouting.”

Jungkook’s head tilted to the side. His brain noticeably trying to comprehend what it was you just said.

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Jungkook now grab a hold of yo-“

Honestly, you should’ve seen this coming. He’d already given you a muddy end of a cane. It was the perfect foreshadowing moment that was leading up to this, and yet, somehow you were surprised when he pulled with full force. You figured he was strong - not freakishly. Not enough to send you flying face first toward the large mud puddle with the sound of a squeaking bird of surprise that you could only assume was yourself.

The only thing that kept you from going face first was a split second decision to ruin just the lower half of your outfit.

The impact with the mud was squishy and came with the weirdest sound effects that reminded you of pushing your hand into a container of slim. God, was it squishy. An immediate, “Ewww,” dragging out from your lips as your hands lifted up from where they’d been buried. Your eyes taking in the full extent of your lower half now resembles the Swamp Thing.

Jungkook’s laughter brought you back to reality and flinging what was left of the mud on your hands in his direction. It only earned you another bark of laughter.

“What in the hell was that for?!”

“Now whose pouting?” He teased.

You wanted to hit him but you knew you couldn’t reach. So you settled for flinging another round of mud.

“Are you kidding me? You pulled me in here cause I said you were pouting!”

“Yup.”

“Unbelievable. You’re a child.”

“I thought you said brat?”

“That too! Ugh! Jungkook! You’re such a pain in the ass. I’m not helping you anymore.”

You moved to try and pull up one leg and found it way more difficult than you’d imagined. Seriously, was this shit superglue? No matter how many times you struggled to pull up either leg it wouldn’t budge; producing an agitated groan to seep from your body.

You wanted to murder him.

When you glanced up at him at least Jungkook had the decency to appear worried.

“Do you need help? I didn’t think it’d be so hard for you to pull yourself up.”

“Oh, so you’re worried about me not being able to pull myself up, but not about me covered in mud.”

The shrug Jungkook gave as an answer made you want to throttle him. You wanted to tell him to shove his help up his ass. Realistically, however, you knew there was no way you were getting unstuck without getting dirtier from crawling around. For a second time, his hand appeared, like magic, in front of you.

Your eyes trailed up his hand to that devilish grin of his and found your earlier agitation disintegrate. What you hated the most, was how his eyes lit up to match his smile. This warm version of Jungkook wasn’t someone you were used to. You’d seen the cocky jock who knew he was good at everything. Experienced the real asshole Jungkook that made you want to rip out chunks of hair. But this side of him...was worth a heartache or two.

Without another thought you reached out and took his hand and allowed him to start lifting you up. It wasn’t until you were half way you came up with your own plan. A devilish grin of your own spreading your lips wide as the idea grew into something worth doing .

Jungkook had a moment to be confused before your free hand shot out and took fierce hold of his forearm. You made sure it was locked in place before your body went completely limp, and sent his body into an unbalanced mess.

“The fu-!”

Jungkook’s descent, at first, made you feel like you’d accomplished a victory. One you didn’t get to relish in for long. Jungkook may not have been able to finish his earlier sentence, but you easily made up for it. A softened, “Fuck!” came pressed from your chest as he landed sideways on top of you. The angle reminded you of an awkward pair of scissors: if one part of the scissors was ridiculously muscled for a student.

You’d had little time to move your hands up to brace yourself against his weight. The air from your lungs whooshing out in laughter with your body struggling to recover from underneath him. And no, no you weren’t painfully aware that your hands could feel every well lined muscle under the fabric of his t-shirt. And no, you were not blushing. Not even a little.

You were sure when Jungkook lifted his head up to look in your direction, he’d see the sinful glee you took in your awkward positioning. Instead, your lungs erupted into laughter. One side of his face perfectly smeared with mud making one eye remain closed and his right doing most of the work. He looked ridiculous...and cute.

“You think this is funny?”

“I think-I think it’s the best thing I’m going to see all day.”

It took a few tries to speak through your laughter, but when you finally got the words out you couldn’t have been more proud. Jungkook on the other hand, seemed to struggle to keep the annoyance on his face. The first sign of a smile cracking into the mud that began to dry on his face.

Jungkook moved to prop himself up - the action giving you the room you needed to wiggle out from underneath him. You were about to call it a success, a retort to an unspoken comment he’d yet to make. All of it came crashing down, however, when Jungkook’s mud covered hand rose from the depths and placed a long streak down your nose with his thumb giving an artistic sweep across your cheek.

The marks he gave reminded you of those old western movies you’d seen. Warpaint covered faces of men getting ready to square off to defend their home from invaders. The thought seemed to match perfectly with the beat of your heart thundering like a drum inside your chest.

It wasn’t just because Jungkook touched you - on purpose - in a playful way. It had nothing to do with the fact his muddy hand was currently resting against your cheek. Or from the denial that it brought out a spark of mischievous happiness to ignite inside you as your mouth fell open to expose the sound of laughter. No, your heart pounded against your chest purely for the look that passed behind chocolate eyes and the soft smile that followed close behind.

So, sure. In that instance it could’ve just been a plan old look. You weren’t a hundred percent sure it wasn’t more than just a look though, either. There was that one boy in first grade, however, who did give you an aggressive teeth-clacking peck on the lips during recess, but this was completely different.

And because you were so uncertain of what it all meant, your only reaction was to lift your hand up from beside you and slam it palm first against his face.

Jungkook’s face lit up in shock and you couldn’t stop the eruption of laughter that spilled from your lips. It was an immediate rush of joy at seeing his handsome face marked by your small muddy handprint that streaked itself across the plains of his face. Normally, you’d be mortified: waiting patiently to be scolded and made to feel small. Instead, the shock wore off his face in an instant. Jungkook’s eyes lighting up with childlike excitement as a giddy, “Oh yeah?” rushed between his lips.

You didn’t have a chance to wonder what he meant before he reached into the mud and brought up a snowball version of the earth.

“Oh, no you don’t!”

Your eyes went wide and frantic giggles exploded free as your body struggled in vain to get out from under him. The previous joy of being pinned by his weight dissipating when that large mud ball found its new home smeared on top of your head.

“Jungkook-ah!”

His own laughter rose up around you as your body began to move in earnest to get out from under him. When you finally realized it was pointless, another bright idea overtook you. If Jungkook noticed the renewed mischievous glint in your eye, he didn’t show it.

He continued to smile obliviously down at you until the two fist fulls of mud you’d taken in both hands came crashing down on top of his head. It didn’t matter that your face caught some of the aftermath: the face he made was priceless.

You didn’t get a chance to enjoy your tiny victory before the two of you were a mess of arms and limbs rolling feverishly around; the two of you playfully wrestling for dominance. The mixture of your laughter rising up until you weren’t sure where Jungkook’s ended and yours began. By the end of it, you were both resembling the pigs you’d seen earlier on the farm. Bodies fully covered in wet earth and lounging beside each other in exhaustion. Every few moments random fits of giggles overtaking the two of you until you realized you both needed to get back.

This time, instead of the two of you refusing help from the other, you eagerly took it. The both of you worked together to reach the edge of the mud pit and, without further incident, pulled each other out.

The walk back to the main barn was done in silence. In other circumstances, you would’ve been consumed with a need to fill it. The impending weight of anxiety would’ve flared across your skin until you would’ve blurted out anything. Small talk was never one of your strong suits, but a comfortable banter had somehow formed between the two of you. You knew if you started talking, Jungkook would respond. It was still a fifty-fifty on whether or not it would be a smart ass response or a real one, but a response nonetheless.

You didn’t try to start a conversation. You chose to enjoy the reassurance that he was beside you. Your mind running through what exactly just happened and how you both ended up looking like bad impression art. You’d spent so much time stealing glances in his direction that you could’ve sworn you caught him doing the same. But who were you kidding. No one had stolen glances at you since middle school, and that was only to steal the answers off tests.

There was no way Jeon Jungkook would be the one to break that trend. No matter how flattering the thought. So when you felt that knowable itch of being watched you found yourself surprised that Jungkook was indeed staring at you.

“Are you cold?”

Jungkook’s question jolted you from your train of thought and sent you reeling into another. He was closer to you now. Close like you’d been while sitting on the bus with your shoulders brushing with every movement. Every bump helplessly sending you lightly banging into the other.

On the bus you could easily play it off as something out of your control. But now? Now there was no good explanation that you could find to why Jungkook decided to walk so closely beside you. There was no way to explain away the way his gaze drew across your face like he’d save it to memory.

“Well I am covered in freezing mud water.”

You’d tried for sarcasm but your voice barely carried over a whisper. It made Jungkook’s head subconsciously dip lower just to hear you. The devilish smirk he was infamous for spread like wildfire across his lips.

“I would offer you my jacket, since it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, but you see some crazy person pushed me into the mud.”

A scoff escaped you as your hand playfully whipped out to slap his shoulder.

“Ya, Jungkook! You? A gentleman? That’s funny. What is also funny is the fact you got yourself stuck in the mud first. I just came to rescue you.”

“Rescue me?” He asked with an eyebrow coyly cocked.

“I’m like your knight in shining armor.”

A throaty laugh came from between his lips; sending his head back exposing his face to the sun. You were mesmerized watching him as the sun kissed down across his face and weren’t at all ashamed at being caught watching as he brought his attention back to you. A smile of your own growing to match the one he wore along with your mind fluttering in wonder of how he was even real.

“If you’re my knight, Y/N I’m in a lot of trouble.”

You feigned hurt but couldn’t hide the grin happily splayed on your face and, crazy thing was, you didn’t want to. It felt impossible that the two of you were so giddy with each other. A strange familiarity brewed heavily between you to the point it felt like the two of you joked like this for years.

Jungkook’s own smile enough to warm the chill that began to creep up your arms to expose goosebumps on your skin. The two of you fell into a shroud of companionable silence and continued to make your way back to the main entrance of the farm. Your heart skipping a helpless beat every time you feel Jungkook’s fingers graze across yours. Your mind hopelessly wanting to believe maybe, just maybe, he was tempted to reach out and hold it.

You came back to the main farm and found your teacher and classmates impatiently waiting. The immediate shock your teacher showed at your appearance seemed to grow more intense until he came storming over: hysterical at your current condition.

“What on earth have the two of you been doing?!”

“They’ve been rolling around with pigs.”

You knew that tart voice anywhere and wasn’t surprised it was Amber that spoke. What did surprise you was how much you didn’t care with Jungkook standing like an equally filthy calm current by your side.

“We’re sorry, seonsaegnim,” Jungkook began coolly with a bow. When he realized you were still standing a hand shot out to the back of your head to bring it down. You quickly slapped it away but kept yourself in a bow. “We got lost from the group and found ourselves stuck in a giant mud pit.”

“It seems to me like you were playing in it,” the farmer chuckled. “I could hose them off before they get back on the bus.”

His offer left heat rising to your cheeks. The sound of a sea of giggles making your stomach ache in embarrassment. You used the curtain of your hair to hide and hoped they’d come up with a different suggestion, but with a small shrug of his shoulder, Jungkook brought your heated attention back to him. A soft smile cracking the now dry handprint you’d left across his cheek.

It was ridiculous. You both looked ridiculous, and yet, he was still handsome. You probably looked like a troll.

“Hey Knight in shining armor,” he whispered. “It seems we get to take a bath together.”

The sun couldn’t be anywhere near as hot as your face felt. The heat spread from red cheeks and down your neck until the butterflies in your stomach were out of control. Jungkook knew what he had done. He could see it plainly on your face and he loved it.

You, on the other hand, wanted to hit him.

And just like divine intervention your teacher did it for you. His curled up pamphlet struck down on top of Jungkook’s head, but it only made his smile grow impossibly larger.

“Ya! I don’t think so! We’ll have you go one at a time to clean up. I’ll look for something for you both to change into.”

Jungkook went first to be hosed down. The farmer actually allowed him to have his privacy so he could get into his more...private areas in peace. The clothes that were found for both of you to wear were old gym clothes thrown in a box in the storage bay at the bottom of the bus. You imagined they must have been thrown there for a reason. The colors were sad and faded down to a color that resembled the mud you’d fallen in. An even sadder rim of yellow wrapped around the sleeves the only hope of color in the terrible outfit you were now forced to wear. At least it was warm with the added bonus Jungkook somehow ended up with the shortest shorts in the box.

After the two of you dried off and changed you were shepherded onto the bus. The place that held Amber and her minions now vacant due to the teacher demanding you sit exactly in the far back in their spot. He must have imagined it would be like putting two naughty kids in time out. The only effect it really had was giving you the chance to breathe and enjoy the solitude.

Jungkook dug around for your earbuds inside your bag. Finally finding the small container and lifting it open. His fingers pulling out the left and surprising you by placing it gently in your ear. Your face must have shown this but Jungkook paid you no mind. He was busy placing the other bud into his ear; flipping the case shut and throwing it back inside to forever be lost until you practically tipped out your bag to locate it again. Oh well. A problem for another time.

“Put on something for the ride home, Y/N. I trust you to be dj again.”

You wanted to tease him. To joke about putting on the YMCA or Macarena . The only thing that stopped you was the relaxed features of Jungkook’s face. The lazy way his neck rested back against the seat and his head languidly gazing in your direction. You tried to squish back all the butterflies that look gave you and a hushed, “Alright. Lady Marmalade it is,” embarrassingly came from between your lips.

Your eyes were too focused on your music list. You didn’t allow them to look as he chuckled beside you. The sound light and rough all at once - demanding you give it attention.

“Don’t make me regret it,” he joked.

You kept scrolling until you found Deans’ “D (Half Moon)”. The soft piano and tone of his voice quickly filled the ear buds and by the soft hum of the voice beside you, you knew you’d pick a good one.

You allowed yourself to relax beside him. Your right hand placing the playlist down between the two of you. Your body was so relaxed you didn’t think about moving your hand anywhere else. Your eyes falling comfortably closed as you continue to listen to the acoustics of the song and the even softer, and equally pleasurable, song of Jungkook singing along.

When his left hand found its way down beside yours, you didn’t question his reasoning. The music held between the two of you and maybe he wanted to change the playlist. You let your mind continue to think that even after his finger gingerly grazed yours and found a home beside them. Both of your hands stayed this way the entire ride back to campus. Neither of you moved to change positions; lost to the sounds of the melodies of the playlist.

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Captain Potter

Summary: Lily Evans has a secret that the army cannot know and it doesn't help that her captain is trying to be her friend.

Note: So I was watching Mulan and it's Shirtless JP May and this got me into googling shirtless army man, so please enjoy this piece of very much self-indulgence set in another AU. Also, I have no knowledge of military ranks, so bear with me.

Read on AO3 or below:

‘Evans’, the captain calls, and Lily turns to him, slightly afraid as she always feels when she hears her name. Maybe this is the day her secret will be found, this is the day she will be expelled and will fall in disgrace —

But Captain Potter has one of his carefree trademark grins, none at all looking as if he is about to arrest her. He looks at ease, leaning against one of the training posts, arms crossed lazily, watching her with interest shining in his hazel eyes as if she is a puzzle he will understand someday.

Lily truly wishes he won't, so she avoids looking at him directly in the eyes.

‘Captain’, she answers at least, saluting. That seems to amuse him.

‘I have a name, you know’.

‘Hum’, she stops, unsure. Her interactions with the captain have been restricted — well, her interactions with everyone have been limited —, but she has watched him from afar.

He is young and yet he never tries to act bossy with all the other soldiers, never tries to impose himself. He may have a more affinity with three of the soldiers (his friends for a long time, as she gathered), but he tries to treat everyone fairly, encouraging and teaching all soldiers equally, from the weakest of them to the strongest, and it’s not hard for her to see why everyone is willing to follow him into battle. The only one that he hadn’t been able to reach some sort of relationship was with her.

Something that had fit Lily’s plans and worries very well.

‘Captain Potter?’, she tries.

‘I am someone besides a rank’, he suggests.

‘Mr. Potter’.

‘That would be my father. I am James ’, he says at least, as if she is unfamiliar with the name of the youngest captain of the army.

‘I know , but — it would not be proper —’

‘Liam’, he stops her and, just as anytime someone uses that name, Lily wants to look around searching for that person until she remembers her situation. ‘Can I call you Liam?’

‘I’d rather Evans’, she answers, grimacing, and when he looks dismayed, she adds quickly: ‘It’s how everyone calls me. Not… it’s more personal, really’.

‘Fine, Evans’. He grins again. It’s a beautiful smile, so open and inviting, that again Lily has no difficulty understanding the success he makes with all the other soldiers, why their unity is unanimous in praising him. There is something on him that draws people to him — her included. ‘Well, call me James. I can order you to if it will make it more proper’.

Lily lets out a laugh before she stops herself, biting her lips, worried. She shouldn’t laugh; though she can disguise her voice mildly well, her laugh is too thin, too sparkling. It’s not a man’s grave laugh.

Fortunately, the captain doesn’t seem to find anything amiss. He looks just… glad with her reaction.

‘So you are capable of laughing’, he notes teasingly. ‘I had my doubts, you know’.

‘There has never been an occasion, Cap — James ’.

He opens his mouth in an offended expression; it’s so dramatic that, again, she wants to laugh. ‘I beg your pardon? Yesterday, when someone — a very clever someone, I might add — pretended to be shot by an arrow? That was an occasion!’

‘Wasn’t that you?’, she asks, raising her eyebrows. It had been a long tense one minute in which one of the other soldiers, Sirius, had been sure he had shot by mistake the captain and his best friend before James had revealed himself alive, laughing hysterically and showing the fake arrow attached to his badge.

Sirius had punched him, all rank forgotten, but then he was laughing too and everyone thought it was hilarious.

‘It was fun ’.

‘It was terrifying’.

‘Oh, so you were terrified I’d died?’, he jokes, his grin now very smug. ‘And I thought you didn’t like me’.

Lily blushes, lowering her head and hoping he hadn’t noticed it. Truth was she had misjudged him on the first day, annoyed by the way he acted with that captain badge pinned on his chest. He came from a long family of militars, after all, and he was very young, no matter what his father would praise about his grades in military school, so she had truly believed he didn’t deserve to be a captain, that he had only got there for his family name.

In the last few weeks, though, she was forced to admit he was a good captain. He had the vision for it, good ideas, an efficient way of training everyone and, of course, he was a leader.

‘I have nothing against you, sir — James’.

‘I’m glad to know’, he says, sounding earnest. ‘I am worried about you, you know’.

‘Have I done something wrong?’, she asks, surprised, fear involving her again. Lily had taken care of doing all exercises, overworking herself, all to prove that that stupid rule that forbid women in the army did not make any sense. They needed everyone in the fight against Voldemort, after all, and she would not wait patiently, especially when people like her were one of his targets.

‘No, no, you’ve been perfect, really, no one dedicates as much as you’, he assures her. ‘But you don’t socialize. You stay quiet during dinner. You don’t participate in any of the games', he pauses, before adding again dramatically: 'You don’t laugh at my pranks!’

All of it is true. Lily has purposefully gotten away from everyone, afraid they would notice something different about her, though that quiet soldier, Remus, had tried to talk to her. She just feels she can't risk.

‘I do not think it’s time for pranks, James’, she answers, deciding the last point was probably the easiest.

He shakes his head. ‘We are at war, Evans. If we don’t laugh now, we may not laugh after’.

She supposes he is right. And even though he enjoys more pranks than she thinks it’s reasonable, she knows he worries too. More than once, when she is on guard duty, she has noticed the light of his tent is on very late in the night. James may look carefree with everyone else, but he has concerns about the war — and what lies in his shoulder.

‘Your work has been impeccable’, he adds quietly. ‘I just want you to get to know more of your colleagues and for them to know more about you’. Lily presses her lips, hoping her worry doesn’t show on her face. That was all she was trying to avoid. ‘You will need to count on them in the battlefield and they will need to know you have their backs too. And the only way to do that is if we trust each other. Can we do that?’

James is waiting for her answer, his eyes boring into hers firmly, and Lily can’t turn away now. In the light of the morning, with the sun shining on his face, his hazel eyes seem to glint in gold, the pupil barely visible. He has wrinkles on the side of his eyes, and she suddenly wishes they weren’t meeting in the army while she is pretending to be an introverted thin young man.

He seems the kind of guy she would like to meet in college, or to grow up together with, or even in a dancing club with her friends; they would talk and she could be then fully herself, could share with him her witty side and even help him in a prank or two. In that other life she would appreciate how nice and beautiful he is, with that black hair that’s always messy no matter how much he tries to comb, and those hazel eyes that were made for laughing, not to be worried for the war.

But that’s not her life and she is sure that if he ever finds out about her, he will hate her. Somehow, with how much she has learned to admire him in the last weeks, she fears his rejection more than she fears being expelled from the army.

Lily knows she would trust James Potter with her life, knows she would do her duty and die for him if it was needed, and yet she also knows she can't ever tell him her secret.

So she does what she has been doing best ever since she joined the army.

‘We can trust each other’, she lies.

He beams. ‘Great, Evans! And I thought we could start sharing your mourning runs’. He raises one eyebrow when she looks surprised. ‘I’ve noticed you awake at dawn to run’.

‘I like to train’, she admits. ‘I am… thinner than the others, so I am trying to get fitter’.

‘You look a lot better’, he compliments, touching her arm, where her biceps have been evolving nicely. It’s a pat, a soft brush, and yet it sends shivers down Lily’s spine; his hand is warm . ‘Mind if I join you?’

She hesitates just a little. ‘I will stay quiet’, she warns him. ‘I like to think while I run’.

‘Works for me. And if you want to share a thought or another, well, I’m here, Evans’.

He winks at her, again so friendly that she turns her eyes away, wishing she could tell him the truth. But she can’t, so she presses her lips, ties the ribbon around her hair so the bun stays in place, and kneels to make sure her shoes are tied. Then she raises and her heart stops for a full second.

James has taken out his shirt. She knows he is fit — there is no way he can’t be with all the years of training he had — and she has seen before shirtless, but only when she was far away in the line, hoping to get unnoticed as she trained the movements.

Now, it’s only him, his tanned skin glistening under the morning sun, a god coming out of her dreams. She is staring and she knows it, but there is no way she can avoid it; weeks at the army have made her lost a lot of discomfourt around men's body, but this... This doesn't seem fair.

She watches the muscles in his arms, his biceps far more evident than hers will ever be, and it suddenly occurs to Lily that she would like very much to feel them around her, involving her, holding her. There would be only benefits in hugging him, she realizes, as her eyes move to his torso, enjoying the firmness of his chest and the muscles in his abdomen, a six pack that seems drawn perfectly. In his arms, she would glide her hand through his chest, would place a kiss over his heart and then she would raise her head and they would be so close —

And then James stretches his arms, raising them above his head, and she notices the hair on his torso, a few patches near his chest that shine with a few drops of sweat she wouldn’t mind drying, and then the darked patch over his abdomen, in a path that goes on vanishing inside…

When she finds herself staring at his pants, Lily decides she has crossed more limits that it's reasonable.

She turns, all her concentration in avoiding glancing at him again, though she feels it's fruitless. The sight of him seems to be recorded in her mind. He will appear on her dream, she is sure of it.

‘Everything all right, Evans?’, he asks, right behind her, and she jumps. 'You look red'.

Lily knows it; her face is hot, burning even before she has started to run, and she won’t fool herself pretending she doesn’t know the reason.

‘I'm fine, let’s go’, she answers quickly, heart racing in her chest. This was a horrible idea; mourning runs with her very gorgeous hot captain will do no good for her keeping her secret.

She sprints without warning, but he catches up with her easily. She keeps her eyes ahead. Don't look, don't stare, don't ogle.

‘There is something special about you, Evans’, he declares, the run not seeming to disturb his breathing. ‘I will find out one day’.

#Shirtless JP May #Jily #Jily AU #Pining Lily #Captain James Potter #Army James Potter #Lily is a soldier #Lily would never stand out a fight #James would just be smitten with his recruit #oh the pining

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nanowrimo · 4 years ago

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The Best Writing Tools to Win NaNoWriMo

Five-time WriMo-Winner Jenna Plute won her first NaNoWriMo in 8th grade and hasn’t looked back since. She’s here to tell us about some of the unusual apps she’s test-driven to help a wide range of writers navigate their way to the finish line!

The goal of National Novel Writing Month is to write fifty thousand words. That's it. Sounds simple, right? You could copy-paste the word "purple" fifty-thousand times, and you would win. Unfortunately, it's not that easy. Your inner-editor steps in, and no words seem good enough to put to paper. And maybe this is good if you have years to write your magnum opus. Each turn of phrase can be molded, each comma artfully placed, each setting fully fleshed out. But when you're writing a novel in a month, overthinking is the enemy of success. To avoid this, nothing has helped me as much as programs that force you to write continuously. With these programs, I can bash out 1,667 words in 45 minutes. Are they good words? No. But will I win NaNoWriMo and have a first draft? Yes. And that's the goal.

Fighter's Block:

Fighter's Block is a RPG-style writing program. You are the protagonist seeking to defeat some monster, whose XP bar corresponds to your word goal. Each time you type a word, you decrease the monster's XP while raising your own. The catch is that the monster also attacks you. You can set the speed of the attack in the settings based on how fast you type. The goal is to write faster and reach your goal before the monster can defeat you.

Pros: This gamifies writing and makes it seem less intimidating. You just have to type to win, and the settings are adjustable. The concept is cute, especially if you love fantasy. There is also a local save that can hold all of your writing, so you don't NEED to save it in another document.

Cons: It is easy to delete your local save and lose thousands of words with a single click. For added security, you really need a secondary save.

750 Words:

750 Words is inspired by the concept of "morning pages", which is the habit of writing a few pages every morning to put your thoughts to paper. It's a repository to hold all of your daily pages in a private area and will give you feedback on how much you pause or get distracted while writing. You can also see automated summaries that display the general emotions, themes, and ideas of your work.

Pros: This is a great way to create a writing habit and gives you a secure platform to hold all of your work. You can also gain insight into the mood and emotion of your story (or life, if you want to use this for journaling).

Cons: Though this helps motivate you with a simple goal, it does not force you to write. It gives you the information to analyze your patterns, but that still puts the onus on you to stay focused.

Written Kitten:

Written Kitten is for those motivated by praise as opposed to punishment. Each time you write a hundred words (you can change this amount), you receive a cute picture of a kitten, puppy, or bunny. The more you write, the more cute pictures of animals you can see!

Pros: This program is less stressful which can allow a more leisurely writing session. The animals are all certainly cute, and it does exactly what it promises.

Cons: The local storage isn't reliable, so you have to transfer your work to a separate document every so often. The less stressful nature of this program also works against it in maximizing word count in a short amount of time.

Write or Die:

Write or Die's operation is encapsulated in the name. While the website won't actually kill you, it will kill your words in the method you choose. If you aren't typing fast enough (at a rate you choose), the site will begin deleting your remaining words, turn your screen bright red, or play an explosion sound effect.

Pros: This program is extremely effective in making you want to type. There's also a huge amount of customization available, especially if you're willing to pay for the full version. With the full version, it will also save your work.

Cons: Even with adjustment, the consequences are too harsh for me. It's just annoying to see the screen flash red or your words be deleted. Failing multiple times was just disheartening and made me want to quit NaNoWriMo out of anger.

My personal conclusion is that Fighter's Block is the best. I've used it for the past three years (and past three wins) and have remained impressed. The format is intuitive and it's not difficult to transfer to Google Docs. The level of consequence also fits me the best. 750 Words and Written Kitten are too soft, but Write or Die is too stressful.

In the end, choosing which software all comes back to what NaNoWriMo stands for: a fun challenge that generates a first draft. Winning is word count. If these focuses sound like you, try one of these programs and see if it helps.

Good luck and happy writing!

Jenna Plute is a five-time NaNoWriMo winner originally from Colorado. When she's not reading or writing, you can find her studying math or drawing. Though she hasn't yet published a book, she hopes to before she dies.

Top photo by Dan Barrett on Unsplash.

#nanowrimo #writing #amwriting #writing apps #writing resources #writing tools #by nano guest #jenna plute #camp nanowrimo

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delvine · 3 years ago

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beautiful blossom in tainted lungs

author's note : it's shameful how long this has been in my google docs, but chapter three!!! we're here!! just so y'all know, this is a piece that i actually wanna complete so bad (or at least, let it catch up to the manga) cause it's been in my head so long. so prepare for that and enjoy!! <3

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

warnings : cussing, mention of blood and death, threatening

pairing : megumi fushiguro x black!fem!reader

word count : 4K

“I refuse. Even if the me inside you dies, my soul is still cut into 18 pieces. Though frustratingly the one who controls this body is not me. If you want me to take over then that’s fine. But when that happens, before I go for the cursed spirit, I’ll kill those two brats first. Next is that woman. It’s full of vitality. It seems like I’ll be able to have some fun.”

‘I’ll show you what’s an ‘it’,’ you thought, but you held yourself back from barking, knowing that it could only make things much worse than they already were. You could only frown as Itadori told the cursed spirit he shared his body with that he wouldn’t let that happen. “That’s what I thought. But if all you’re concerned about is me, your friends will definitely die.”

You watched the special grade curse before you, inhaling deeply, and you already stood aside as it made its blow between Itadori and you & Fushiguro. You noted how the curse just lashed its magical power, not even using sorcery, as it giggled. It almost reminded you of Kokoro, the malice in its actions and how openly it was enjoying itself in the process. It was disgusting, infuriating even. “Fushiguro! Nomura! Take Kugisaki with you and run away from here!”

“There’s no way I can do that! There’s a high-grade opponent right there!” Megumi objected and although you wanted to agree, you knew where Yuji came from. “Look closely. It’s having fun. It’s totally underestimating us. We can at least try to buy time,” Itadori responded and you nodded in understanding, though Fushiguro still didn’t and still argued. “There’s no use-”

“Fushiguro, it’s the best we can do,” you interjected and you looked from him to Itadori. “You better not make me regret this,” you said to the pink haired boy and he nodded determinedly. “I’m counting on you guys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Search for Kugisaki!” Fushiguro commanded his demon dog.

While Fushiguro sprinted through the unfamiliar halls, you used your plant manipulation to keep up with his speed, carrying yourself through leafs and vines. Though the sound of footsteps and growing plants dominated the echoes of the hallways, it felt dead silent. With your heart beating rapidly in your chest and adrenaline rushing through your veins, you could only think of Kugisaki and Itadori, hoping they were still alive. “Nomura.”

You turned towards Fushiguro, stopping your movements abruptly. “She’s in here.” he signed towards the floor the demon dog was barking at. You placed your hand on the floorpiece, weeds slowly spreading on the metal, making it grow moldy. “Think you can break through?”

He knew you could, which made you scoff. You bawled your hand into a fist and raised it as high as you could. “Don’t patronize me, Fushiguro.” You barely felt a scratch as you punched through the metal. Megumi summoned his Great Serpent and Toad as he got a view of the cursed spirits that got Kugisaki in their clutches. He let the snake shikigami attack them as the toad got a hold of Nobara. “I’m not good with frogs.”

“Well too bad!” Fushiguro exclaimed as he looked at you, who was ready to take on the remaining two mushroom-looking cursed spirits. “Nomura!”

“Go already! I’ll be there with you guys. Just give me a minute,” you said, your lower body getting into a firm squat as roots came out from the ground under your feet. A new use of your plant manipulation you learned recently. You barely even thought of plants growing from other parts of your body than just your hands. You smiled slightly at Yuji’s suggestion that got you to learn the technique. You noticed Fushiguro and Nobara leaving and you looked the cursed spirits in the eyes. An unknown sensation of adrenaline rushed through your blood and you sensed the slight pinch of fear coming from them. You moved the roots under your feet to get to the height of the curses and conjured long branches with sharp ends to thoroughly stab the two with. The hit made them both land on the ground, screeching in pain. Standing between them, they tried to reach for and attack you, but you noticed the great serpent being done with the grand one that held Kugisaki. “Yo scaly!”

The shikigami’s head turned towards you and you pointed at the two cursed spirits, still laying on the ground. It wasted no time as it devoured the spirits and then shifted itself towards you, waiting for any other commands, but it was met with your praise instead. “Good boy,” you cooed at the shikigami snake as you stroked the scales under its chin. It closed its eyes at the touch in contentment and soon vanished. You turned to the exit of the building, whispering an apology to Itadori for the wait, but soon found your way at the departure of the building. The demon dog seemed to wait for your arrival, as it immediately howled as you stepped outside. You petted its head swiftly and let yourself collapse next to Fushiguro.

“Y/N,” Megumi called to you, voice sounding fatigued, but you couldn’t blame him. The mission was exhausting.

“Hm,” you let out in response, your eyes closed, thinking it would help listening to your friend. “I’m staying behind,” he stated, sounding determined and you opened one eye to catch a glimpse of him before adjusting yourself and sitting up.

“Alright, but then we should-”

“No. I’m staying behind.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Come on! Mama will be mad if we stay here any later,” your brother said, trying to drag you back, but you got yourself out of your brother’s grasps. “No! Just tell her I’m here,” you objected and picked up the flowers you accidentally dropped on the grounds of the forests. Your brother still wanted you to come with him, but huffed in annoyance at your stubborn nature. “Fine! Just make sure you don’t regret anything when she scolds you!” he exclaimed and ran back to the house. You looked up to him running, but soon went back to the flowers. “How were these ones called again?” you questioned yourself, trying to dive deep in your memory of the name of the flower. “Kinmoo...kuuusei? Kinmokusei! It must be!” you exclaimed to yourself in joy and you observed the orange osmanthus. You stepped further into the forest, trying to look for more of autumn’s flowers. What a beautiful day of fall it was. November 1st, 2011.

You tried to walk further, but felt a sudden hesitancy waver over you. Is this really okay? Your parents barely got mad at you for wandering off in here. They were confident you knew this place better than even the gardeners. Then why do you feel this way? Maybe you should’ve gone with your brother, but that thought of guilt was interrupted by numerous screams you could barely hear. You turned your head, worried as you knew the place where it was coming from was your home. You dropped the flowers, running as fast as you could. You now only realized how deep into the forest you’ve gotten and prayed that everyone was alright. That you just heard something. Because it must be your imagination, right? Your family must be fine. They must be.

Blood.

That was the new decoration that covered the outside of your home. Every part of your body shook in horror of the sight before you. Your family, your friends, they were…

“No...nonono NO!” you exclaimed to yourself and went into your home, not even noticing the tears streaming down your face. You slammed the door open and screamed at what you saw. Your brother..your father and your mother. “Mama! Wake up. Wake up, please! Please,” you sobbed, trying to cradle your mother and reach for your father next to you. The screams you let out were deafening and tiring. Your voice was filled with remorse and grief.

“Poor girl.”

You flinched at the sudden, unfamiliar voice, but knew you had to defend yourself. You grabbed the bamboo stick your mother still had a hold of and you stood up, trying to stop your trembling. You looked up at the being before you, a cursed spirit in a human form and you tighten your grip. As the curse tried to get closer, you pointed the stick at it, which made it raise its arms. “Woah, Easy now. I won’t hurt you.”

“You’re lying! You...Did- Did you do this?” you asked, pointing to your dead family. “No. I didn’t. I promise,” the curse said, but you remained hesitant, so the curse introduced itself. “I’m Kokoro, you wanna tell me your name?”

You sniffed, but furthermore remained silent. “No? Well that’s fine. Will you remain here?”

“I..don’t know,” you said, sniffling once again and the cursed spirit approached you. “You could join us, if you wanted to.”

“Us?”

“Yes. I have friends out there waiting for me. You’d get along so well with them,” he said in an almost mockery tone to you, but you were too intimidated to ask him if he was. The energy in the room soon shifted, from pity to slight malice. But even when Kokoro tried to hold back his cursed energy, it was overwhelming to you. The sweet, young, poor you. You could barely make a sound as the special grade cursed spirit reached out his hand to you. With the movement itself, you felt threatened that you would be hurt if you didn’t take it, and so you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I have to carry out my responsibility to deal with him.”

“We can deal with him together, Fushiguro!”

“Nomura-”

“No!! Don’t do this to me now! I’m in a perfect state right now. I can help so do not shut me out!” You were shocked by your own words. By the unspoken truth now being spoken. Megumi & you weren’t the type to open up, more so you both had numerous walls built around you. With the way you seemed to get closer to each other, sometimes you or him broke down a wall that was too close to you, you’d build everything back up again.

“Fuck,” you sighed in frustration and your gaze shifted from the boy in front of you to the grounds. “You’re not going to let me stay, are you?”

“No.”

“What will you do to get me out of here?”

“Anything,” Megumi said without skipping a beat. Not a single bit of him wanted to risk another life, especially yours. The response made you sigh, hoping you wouldn’t regret your decision. “Fine. I’ll go. You deal with him.”

As you headed into the back of Ijchi’s car, you bit the inside of your cheek, secretly hoping both Megumi and Itadori would be okay. Making promises now would be childish, all you could do was hope. As Megumi told Ijchi to bring a special grade sorcerer after he dropped both you and Nobara off, you could only put your hands into fists in frustration. Why couldn’t you do anything?

You silently huffed in frustration and could rarely relax as you felt the car moving.

“You did well, Nomura.”

Your head focused from your fists to the rear view mirror, meeting Ijchi’s eyes. “The fact that you’re still alive and not injured is rare for a sorcerer your age and grade. All that you did there you should be proud of,” he reassured you and you smiled in gratitude, relaxing just a little.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What?” you asked in disbelief and denial. “He’s dead, Nomura,” Megumi stated again. How fucking awful it felt to hear your last name now. You bit your lip, frustrated. Almost infuriated. “Shit..SHIT!” you exclaimed, throwing your bamboo stick away to the ground. You trembled in response to the news, overwhelming feelings being thrown to you at once. You couldn’t even look at your classmate before you, scared to show any more of your emotion. How out of control you felt angered you even further and made your hands into fists again.

You should’ve done more. You should’ve been stronger. You should’ve been able to protect them. Protect your friends. Just like your friends would protect you. How they’d be able to not even be close to giving up their life. That was because they were strong. Why weren’t you strong? Why aren’t you strong?

“Fushiguro, am I poisonous?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “What? No, Y/N-”

“It’s just, everyone I am too close with..dies. Everyone I touch dies. I just- don’t want what happened to my family or Yuji or anyone that gets involved into this Jujutsu nonsense. I don’t want that to happen to anyone else. Especially you and Kugisaki,” you said, calming down with every word you spoke. You were sick. Sick of the repeating cycles in your head and tired of the thought of death, of curses. All that your young self surrounded herself with at such an early age.

“Y/N.”

The sudden touch of Megumi’s hand holding yours shocked you slightly, but the movement of your hands slowly intertwining made you look up at the boy before you.

“You are not poisonous. Yuji’s death is not your fault, okay?”

“It isn’t?” you sniffled looking down at your fingers that were tangled with Megumi’s.

“You followed through with him immediately, believing in him. If anything he’s grateful for your trust in him. So this is not your fault. And neither is the death of your family.”

Your eyebrows raised at the mention of your family. No one ever told you that. That you weren’t at fault for the death of your loved ones. It was obvious for them, you would guess. But you could only put yourself to irrational blame for the inevitable circumstances. You relaxed your body against Fushiguro and he wrapped his other hand around your waist, holding you firmly against him. His chin placed lightly on your head made you giggle a little, breaking the silence and you took a deep breath. “Thank you,” you sighed and you felt him smile slightly, though he didn’t say anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh, how sweet of him~”

Your face was bruised up from the hits that Kokoro sent your way while explaining the mission. You didn’t know why you said that Fushiguro comforted you, it just blurted out. “Hm. Oh well. At least those sorcerers taught you some durability.”

You were confused by your ‘mentor’s’ statement until you realized you were still standing. After all the hits where you’d regularly would be knocked down, you were still standing. You were silently amazed by yourself. The adrenaline was coming back and you charged towards Kokoro only to have him hold your wrists tightly. You struggled against his grip, but it only tightened, his nails close to piercing your skin. You hissed in pain and stopped your movement. Kokoro kissed his teeth at your behavior. “The more you hang around those shamans, the more of a brat you become.”

“Poor you,” you retorted and Kokoro didn’t hesitate to slash the skin of your wrists as punishment. You bared with the pain, letting the cursed spirit show little to no response at his operant conditioning. It didn’t work on you anymore. You needed to let him know that. He hummed at your actions, maybe even your thoughts. “You must really like him, don’t you?”

“I’m holding up my end of the deal.”

“Curses don’t care about their deals, my blossom. Haven’t I explained that to you? The curses in forests and cities are merciless. They don’t have a single shred of that humanity that you seem to love so much. All they have are the most negative thoughts and in these areas, they carry wisdom with it as well.”

Kokoro was right, you knew that. But you also knew him and how he worked. There was not a single chance that he wouldn’t break your deal without you breaking it first.

“If you even think about coming near him-”

“What, foolish girl?”

Foolish girl. That name sent you back to your first days that you were with Kokoro. A term of degradation. Calling you weak, naive and ignorant. He really believed you didn’t change a bit from those days and the wrath you felt from that knowledge was ablazing, like a fire was lit under the ends of your soul.

“I’ll kill you,” you said and you released yourself from his grip, grabbed the bamboo stick that was left behind in the fight once again and made your way back to Jujutsu Tech. All the while, the ear piercing and menacing laughter of Kokoro echoed through the forest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You couldn’t get the threat out of your head. It was as much of an impulse as it was the truth. Kokoro indirectly or directly hurting your friends would crush you, but you hardly understood how fast you got attached to your classmates. Maybe it was the closest thing to humanity. You spent your life long enough with curses, you convinced yourself that you were one too. Your emotions going from high to overwhelmingly low made you realize you’re a lot more human than you thought. Hearing Megumi tell how Yuji died the second time didn’t hurt as bad as you thought, but you couldn’t guess how Nobara would feel about it.

“He told us to live long.”

“But all your problems vanish when you die...is this your first time one of your comrades died?” she asked and Megumi answered honestly. You didn’t need much time to think about it either. “Hmph. You both seem oddly fine.”

“...You too.”

“Well, I only knew him for about two weeks. I’m not such a soft woman, that I could cry over the death of someone like him,” Nobara reasoned, though you could notice the slight trembling on her lip as she tried to bite it back. You placed your hands behind to support yourself as you leaned back, eyes on the single white cloud that covered the blue sky, while you could hear your classmate’s short banter on the weather.

“What the hell? You’re more depressed than ever, Megumi. Is this a wake?” an unfamiliar voice asked and you lowered your head a bit to see a girl. Black hair with bangs and put up in a ponytail, glasses that covered her hazel eyes and a lengthy bag with what you could guess was a cursed tool. She was rather tall and with her approach you would say she is rather the straight forward type. “Zenin-senpai.”

“Don’t call me by my family na-” the girl tried to say before she was called by first name. You turned towards the ones calling her only to widen your eyes at the panda that seemed to talk. “He really did die. Yesterday! A boy from first year!”

“Katsuobushi flakes!” the boy that semi-hid behind the tree with the panda said and you quirked up your eyebrow at that. A peculiar bunch.

“Say. It. Earlier! I’LL SEEM LIKE A COLD, HEARTLESS DEVIL!”

“Actually, that’s exactly what you are, you know?!”

“Tuna mayo.”

You watched in amusement at the arguing from the three individuals before you as you tilted your head to the left. “The second years?”

“Yup. Our second year senpais. Zenin-senpai, she’s the best at handling charms out of us students. Inumaki-senpai, a specialist in spells. His only vocabulary is onigiri ingredients. And that’s Panda-senpai. There’s one more; Okkotsu-senpai. He’s the only one I can openly respect, but he’s overseas now.”

“Are you seriously gonna leave the panda’s introduction at ‘Panda’?” Nobara asked which you wanted to as well.

“Oh, sorry guys. You’re still in mourning, but I want you to attend the Kyoto sister school exchange.”

“What is that?” you asked as you stood up, eyebrows raised in curiosity. “It’s a joint program with the other magic technical college in Kyoto,” Megumi explained and you nodded in quick understanding. “But the event is mainly for second and third years, right?”

“Those third-year halfwits are suspended from school. We don’t have enough people, so you guys gotta go.”

Well, how lucky you got. The thought of the event itself sounded exciting enough to have you smile only slightly. Finally a distraction and a way to get stronger. “What do you do during the program? Super smash bros?” Nobara asked intrigued. “Tokyo school and Kyoto school. The match types proposed by each school principal will be given one day each. The event is carried out over two days. Well, that’s the official consensus. Every year, the first day is a team match and the second one is an individual match.”

In your head you already made your mind up on joining the program. Training you trusted the second year senpais with, they seemed strong and reliable. Labor shortage concerned you a little bit, but it didn’t change your point of view on the event. The only real worry you had was your agreement. You couldn’t keep your word now, but you knew it would rather do you harm than good. Kokoro was strong and sadistic, he would in fact beat you around more if he knew you already wore yourself out during the day. But nonetheless, you wanted to become stronger. You would become stronger and you were willing to do anything for that. “I’ll do it.”

“But if I think the gruelling training or the exchange is useless, I’ll stop immediately,” Nobara added and you and Megumi both agreed on that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re so slow, Megumi. What were you doing?”

“It doesn’t matter, right?” Megumi said as he approached Maki & Toge, while Nobara was busy being chased by Panda. He looked around for you, seeing you weren’t in sight. “Where’s Nomura?”

“She said she’d fetch some more cursed tools for you and her, but she hasn’t been back in a while,” Maki answered, only for Megumi to see you skipping back with tools at hand. As you exclaimed you made it back, you excitedly walked towards the three, avoiding whatever Nobara and Panda-senpai were doing. “Zenin-senpai, what kind of people do you want to save as shaman?”

“Huh? I don’t give a damn about who I save.”

Well, he figured and as he mumbled how he shouldn’t have asked, he planned to ask you when you two would be alone. “I got them finally! Sorry for the wait,” you said as you approached Maki, which she waved off pretty quickly. “FUSHIGURO!!! THIS ISN’T THE TIME FOR A Q&A SESSION! NOMURA! SUB ME OUT! THIS BOY’S UNIFORM IS ALREADY BOTHERSOME! LET ME GO BUY A CUTE JERSEY!!!”

You watched with confusion and a little amazement as Panda seemed to toss Nobara around. “What are those two doing?” Megumi asked bluntly.

“Why are they doing it?” you added and lifted up your tools to toss one towards Megumi which he got a hold of. “It’s ‘cause you guys’ approach is weak, you know. First, take one of those from us. We’ll talk after that.”

And so while Megumi went along with Maki, you went and took Nobara’s place. As she immediately seemed to run away when she got her blessing, Panda turned towards you. “What you got?”

“Plant manipulation, inherited technique.”

“No limits?”

“None that I’m aware of,” you said confidently as you smirked and Panda grinned and seemed to notice your bamboo stick. “What’s that for?” he said as he pointed towards it. You knew it radiated no cursed energy, so him asking that was not surprising. “Personal good luck charm.”

“Personal?” Panda asked and you made your aura change only slightly to warn him not to get too nosy. As he sensed the change in cursed energy, he snickered and waved the topic off. “Let’s see how much good luck your charm gives you.”

#fic ; beautiful blossom in tainted lungs #— del writes 💌#megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro x black!reader #megumi imagine #megumi drabbles #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years ago

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Michael in the Mainstream: The Suicide Squad

Suicide Squad has frequently been touted as one of the worst comic book movies ever, and honestly? I don’t really agree, even if I almost wholeheartedly agree with every criticism of it. The editing is bad, the story is a mess, the Squad’s friendship is nonexistent, characters like Waller act like absolute idiots, Enchantress is a bad character and an absurd villain for these people to face… And yet, the core cast of scoundrels are all pretty likable when you wipe off the crap they’re buried under. These characters all could have shined bright if they were given competent writing and direction; the ideas are there, but the execution is unbelievably flawed due to excessive executive meddling (and probably a bit of pretentiousness on director David Ayer’s part). If only there was a director capable of taking the concept of a bunch of C-list villains getting together and performing dangerous missions and, along the way, becoming a found family…

That director thankfully exists, and his name is James Gunn. Gunn has already shown twice that he is capable of doing “a bunch of assholes become a found family” really well with the two Guardians of the Galaxy films, films that have a lot of style and flair that help make them the best films in the MCU, and considering Suicide Squad was mangled the way it was to try and be more in line with his Guardians films, it only makes sense to pull him in to give Task Force X another shot. Why settle for imitations when you can get the real thing? It’s not like he was doing anything else while Mickey Mouse put him in time out for naughty tweets, after all.

But this isn’t Gunn under the thumb of the Mouse, oh no; this is Gunn allowed to go absolutely wild. This is Gunn given the budget of a modern superhero film and asked to make a Troma picture, with all the blood, gore, and cheesiness that entails, and by god did he pull it off. Right from the get go we are given a taste of just what sort of movie we’re in for as a mangy child-murdering weasel man shows up and Nathan Fillion detaches his arms from his body to gently tap enemy soldiers on the head, and somehow things only get wackier from there.

Gunn seemed to actively go out of his way to fix every single problem of the original film. The characters, for instance, are all fairly similar to those of the first film. Bloodsport is clearly the stand in for Deadshot, but where Deadshot was just your average charming, funny Will Smith role to the point it could get distracting, Idris Elba makes Bloodsport a tired straight man to the wacky antics around him and portrays his growth through the film very well. Peacemaker is the jackass of the team in the vein of Captain Boomerang, but where Boomerang had little use in the narrative despite being the best and funniest non-Harley member of the team, Peacemaker is given his full due, with John Cena making him one of the funniest assholes ever put to film and even giving him a bit of depth and moral complexity. King Shark, AKA Nanaue, is obviously Killer Croc’s replacement, but where Croc was bland and really just stood in the background the whole movie, Nanaue is a sweet, charming, funny oaf with brutal strength who is just absolutely lovable and adorable, all capped off with hilarious vocal delivery from Sylvester Stallone himself. Polka-Dot Man is something of a replacement for El Diablo, though while El Diablo was really bungled by the narrative despite being well-acted and sympathetic, Polka-Dot Man is given ample opportunity to be funny, tragic, and useful all at once, and gives him a bit of an arc (pretty impressive for a character who was added in solely because Gunn googled who the lamest DC villains were). And finally, Ratcatcher is something of the replacement for Katana, being the second woman of the squad and the token good teammate, though where Katana was awkwardly shoehorned in at the last minute, Ratcatcher is clearly the heart of this team and brings the band together. Overall, the new Squad is leagues better than the original, and you will care for this band of criminals by the film’s end.

Returning characters get their due as well, particularly the ones really screwed over by the first film Waller and Flag get it the best of all. In the first film, Waller’s entire scheme was stupid, nonsensical, contradictory, and basically everything she did went against what was told to us about her, namely that she is a master manipulator. It was really a waste of Viola Davis, who had the presence and mannerisms down but who was constantly being failed by a shoddy script. Thankfully, that’s not the case here; Waller is very much the ultimate, manipulative girlboss she should be, from using her own troops as a distraction for another team to threatening Bloodsport with his daughter getting raped and murdered in prison over a minor offense if he doesn’t join her Suicide Squad. She is a stone cold bitch you will love to hate, and is easily one of the best comic book villains in film now (quite the turnaround all things considered). Flag is an actual character in this movie, with great chemistry with the members of the new Squad, particularly Bloodsport and Harley. Much like Bloodsport, he also gets a bit of a rivalry with Peacemaker going, which ends up being entertaining and even leads to a truly sad moment late in the film. Quite impressive for a guy who did nothing but spout awkward exposition in the first film.

Then we have Harley. I’m going to be honest, Harley has never been written better than she was in this film. While Robbie has had the character down from day one, the scripts have consistently failed her. The original film did nothing with her but sexualize her and have her spout crappy one-liners, and while Birds of Prey was a massive step up and had her written as she should be, the overall narrative of that film didn’t quite give her the due she deserved due to her feeling like a passive character pushed around by the flow of the plot. Here, though, Harley fully grasps at what’s given to and takes charge when she can, leading to one of the best action scenes in a film full of them. She ahs great interactions with her teammates and is just consistently funnier than she ever has been before, and it makes me happy to know someone who loves this character as much as Robbie does is finally getting to truly shine as she deserves.

The music and editing are vastly better. Remember how the original film had a new licensed song every minute, and almost all of them made no sense, and the music that played for Deadshot was exclusively rap artists (which was lowkey kinda racist)? Well, Gunn is bringing his ability to weave songs into the narrative with this one, but he also gives plenty of time for the music composed for the film to shine. As for the editing, gone are the obtrusive comic-book style cards that announce stupid throwaway details (and in a few cases, plot points you will very likely miss), replaced by more amusing and less obtrusive gags. The movie is also cut in a way where, you know, it makes sense. Everything flows naturally, and while there are a couple of points where time rewinds so we can see how we got to a certain point, it’s never so confusing that you can’t follow it.

The stakes are vastly overhauled. It made zero sense in the first film that Waller would assemble a team that consists of people whose powers range from “is good with weapons” to “is an Aztec fire god” to “is a big ugly crocodile man” to take on Superman-level threats. This is like if you sent a Boy Scout troop to fight Godzilla, it’s just not gonna end well and there’s an absurd disparity in power levels. Here, the team is being sent on a general black ops mission and have their skills selected by who would be most useful for the mission, and while they do end up taking on something a bit outside their context in the form of a certain cyclopean starfish alien, it’s a bit easier to swallow because of the buildup and because “big angry alien” is a lot more sensible as a threat to black op vigilantes than “ancient interdimensional witch goddess with a zombie army.”

Most importantly, though, is that this film lives up to its title. This is very much a suicide mission, and where the last team made it out relatively unscathed, this film suffers a lot of casualties. Characters die for gags, characters die suddenly, you might think a character is going to be a big, important part of the plot only for them to be dispatched right when it seems they’re getting going. For a film like this, it works perfectly, and some of the deaths are absolutely hilarious. That being said, you can kind of predict who lives and who dies based on star power alone; do you really think Harley’s gonna bite it? Come on.

I don’t really have many issues with the movie, but I will reiterate: this is essentially a Troma film with a massive budget, made by one of their alumni. Troma is a studio that makes gory, gross, and awesome B-grade movies and a similar irreverent mentality is on display here. If you can stomach gore, violence, and absurdity then this is a film you’re probably going to get into, but it’s definitely not the kind of comic book movie for everyone. Thankfully, it is exactly the kind of comic book movie for me. It honestly feels like the sort of movie I’d want to make, where I take a bunch of stupid C-list villains with dumb powers and give them actual development and characterization to the point the audience feels something for them. You’re going to be moved by a girl who controls rats, a stupid shark man, and a depressed dude who shoots polka-dots from his hands, and you’re not going to care.

I really hope they follow this up with another one, especially if they bring James Gunn back. There were a lot of characters he considered for the team, and a lot of them have potential, be that hilarious or dramatic. I mean, the man considered Mr. Freeze, that guy could be one hell of a leading man! Round out the team with some of the considered ideas like Rainbow Creature, Solomon Grundy, Chemo, Livewire, Punch and Jewelee, Man-Bat, Dogwelder, and the almighty Kite Man, and you’ve got one hell of a Suicide Squad! Also, maybe get Gunn to consider Crazy Quilt and Condiment King.

Really, the possibilities are endless, and that’s what the fun of a Suicide Squad movie should be: seeing the dumbest dregs of comic book history thrown into a place where they’re probably going to die horribly. Gunn managed to get that when Ayer couldn’t, and the results are perhaps his magnum opus. This is Gunn at his best and most free, unchained from the restrictions of forcing a film to tie into a bunch of others while also using all the tricks of his signature style to craft a damn fine film that easily holds up on its own outside the context of the DCEU. These are the kind of comic book movies we need, so let’s hope this film gets the respect it deserves so it acts as a wakeup call for studios content to churn out

#Michael in the Mainstream #review #movie review #The Suicide Squad #James Gunn #DC #DCEU #Harley Quinn #King Shark #Bloodsport #polka-dot man #Peacemaker #comic book movie #action movie

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mrpenguinpants · 4 years ago

Note

I am a firm believer that Childe is indeed younger than Keqing and has no form of respect for her regardless.

It’s moreso a form of me establishing that the Keqing is a short adult in her mid to early twenties who has to inevitably deal with the constant neck pain she gets from having to look up at her co-workers just to make eye contact. She curses either herself for it for never growing an inch or curses everyone around her or, well, both. Regardless, she can occassionally be found in her office stomping the floor and feeling like the battle is her against the world LMAO

As a side note, I loved the little headcanons of the boys as children you included! It was a different thing that would’ve never came to mind otherwise. While I’m totally ride or die on the “four men accidentally hire themselves a babysitter and a daily slander machine (she does it out of love)” train, I do appreciate different variations to the idea.

Oh and seeing myself on the anon list makes me feel a bit warm, it feels like I’m being acknowledged as family for crashing this wonderful blog with brainworms lmaooo— on a much serious note, I really appreciate hearing me out whenever I have an idea or two to share.

Sincerely, Keqing harem brainrot anon

(I felt like using a dash was too orthodox, and these are basically my mini love letters to you for being an overwhelming amount of seretonin, so I figured why not give it a little twist)

Minor Spoilers for Character Backgrounds

I wrote some more on this here: Genshin: Royalty AU HCs

---

FUCKING CATCH ME CRYING IN THE CLUB AS I HOLD THIS PRECIOUS ASK IN MY HANDS. I THOUGHT YOU DIED. I WAS SO UPSET. REMEMBER THAT ANON ASK THAT I JUST REPLIED TO WHERE ANON FELT LIKE THEY WERE COMING HOME? THAT. THAT IS HOW I FEEL RN.

Yes. I know anons have lives outside of tumblr. Am I a parent penguin now? Yes. Yes I am. I’m fucking crying, it does feel like I’m seeing my family again.

---

Out of all the “adult” genshin characters, I firmly believe Childe is the youngest. He is just hovering that adult status because of his height. Can I also say how much I love that the “culturally insensitive white boy” idea came from people on twitter getting tired of Chili fanart where Childe calls Zhongli “sensei” even tho the mans Chinese?

Speaking of short people, and because I will never shut up about this, XIAO IS 5′2. Ty for coming to my ted talk. I can literally astral project and visualize Zhongli being Keqing’s boss or co-worker that’s super respectful - but lowkey a bit slow because he keeps forgetting his wallet and Keqing is too nice to leave him without lunch - but when he’s spitting facts about the ancient art of ink blocks she’s cursing him in her mind. Why is this man so tall?? She can feel the neck muscles in her neck crying out in pain that when she finally relaxes and stares forward rather than upward, she get’s a killer cramp and ends up dying on the floor (I HATE THAT FEELING BTW). She’s out here googling ways to grow taller after puberty and chugs milk cartoons like it’s air.

This is why I absolutely love sharing ideas with others. There is so much food to be brought to the table so I always try and encourage others to share their ideas. Plus it let’s me get my over-active brainworms out haha.

I just love the dual personality of younger vs older genshin characters. We got to see a little bit of young Diluc in the manga (pls..I know it’s completed but crumbs. I beg of you) where he was this starry eyed and friendly knight attitude. Actual sweetheart. Your typical childhood boy next door type of vibe that was sweet and polite but was a lot smarter than he looked. He has a pet turtle (or tortoise?) and I find that so cute. I can totally see Diluc being hard working to make his father proud but also slacks hard and watches his turtle awkwardly eat a strawberry most of the time haha. He would both die for his turtle and go to war for it. Honestly, I just love the idea of child Diluc being a bit of a slacker compared to his older self, who is trying to speed run his life.

As for Kaeya, I’m going to say this now. I fully believe in the art of shy and quiet Kaeya when he was a child. It makes sense in terms of the lore since he was basically shoved into an unknown world and all alone. Poor guy probably has a lot of insecurities and is super standoffish to happy and loud children his age. He might come off as rude but he just doesn’t know how to socially interact. As sad as this may sound, he probably mimics other children as his way of expressing emotions. Since he spent most of his time with Diluc, he probably tried to mimic Diluc’s mannerism to try and fit in but Diluc is smart and caught on. It was actually a really wholesome connection of Diluc trying to help Kaeya express himself rather than copying others. Until well, the incident that separated them.

Complete side note since I know we’re talking about a modern au but: I know I’m stretching this super thin and this doesn’t hold up in the lore at all but I really like the idea that Kaeya is secretly the Prince of Khaenri’ah and Khaenri’ah is a code word for the Abyss. This is basically me saying I want the Abyss mages and Kaeya to actually get along but due to moving in with Diluc’s family and the world’s view on monsters. He has to talk and play with them in secret. I think it’s kinda cute haha.

As for Childe, actual angel. Have you seen Teucer? Who is this pure innocent soul and what the FUCK happened to create this Grade A Brat? He got too many vitamin gummies and became a gorilla. I mean, both younger and older Childe would walk an old lady across the street but only older Childe would then try to 1v1 the old lady. I’m actually crippled by the idea that Childe used to be this scrawny kid that decided to bulk up due to deep insecure attitudes towards himself or protection ideas for his younger siblings. Fighting became a need to survive and he hated it at first until he met his Master and found the fun in it because it was his way of having control of a situation. Though of course, while this man has two braincells, he’s still sensible. Childe may be a clown but he’s a good big brother.

Then there’s Zhongli. In my mind, he was basically like Kaeya. Probably came from royalty as well. He didn’t know how to express himself except his boy was actually hollow. A complete husk of a person that was just doing what he was told to absolute perfection. That was until Guizhong, who I completely headcanon as someone older than Zhongli and acts as a sister figure (fucking fight me), grew concerned for this poor child and tried her best to teach him how to have fun. That there was life outside his studies and duties. While it didn’t work out perfectly and Zhongli is still a bit slow on the uptake, he genuinely is thankful to her and her help. I can see him have a little notebook of all her advice and teachings - heck, drawings of human emotions - that he sometimes has to turn to because he’s lost. (why..do i keep making Zhongli’s part so sad).

BUT ASIDE FROM MY BRAINWORMS. “Four men accidently hire themselves a babysister and a daily slander machine” IS SUCH A CONCEPT. I want them all to have the worst habits. Childe LICKS the yogurt peel in front of Keqing slowly because he knows it absolutely disgusts her, Zhongli eat’s his sandwiches vertically, Diluc blends coffee with 5 hours energy and doesn’t tell anyone (so everyone has the worst hangover 3 hours later because they all leech off each other), and Kaeya, for the love of god, cover your tit window. It’s too early to get arrested for public indecency.

---

I’m happy my anon list made you feel fuzzy 💕💕. I’m probably missing a lot of anons on that list because I have the memory of a goldfish so I just listed the ones I could remember. Since you know, you’re some of the few that came back to talk to me which I honestly really appreciate. I know you all have lives outside of this small blog so it does make me really happy seeing you all come back. I’ve mentioned it before but don’t be afraid to chat with me about anything, doesn’t even have to be genshin^^ but I absolutely love the stuff you come up with.

I never thought of an anon list acting like a family acknowledgement (more as a literal list) but I’m fully on board with that. I went back to my older anon asks to see if I missed anyone (and I probably have since the tumblr search tag is garbage) but I hope they are all still around on this blog and wanna drop by to say hi^^

I’m going to go change my anon list to pengu family because holy fuck that’s cute. But with that said,

Welcome back home keqing harem brainrot anon!

#keqing harem brainrot anon #welcome home #the double take i took when i saw that signature #i still love that name #"-these are basically my mini love letters to you for being an overwhelming amount of seretonin -#y-you can't just attack me like this #um wow okay #um let me just bask in what happiness feels like for a hot minute #oh no im gonna cry #...yo no I FEEL SO EMOTIONALLY VUNLERABLE RIGHT NOW WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME #this was...really sweet #my serotonin levels have completely peaked for the next year #super duper big mwah #lovely anon #anon ask #i have noodles #im going to go cry in them for a hot second

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dearamericaroyaldiaries · 3 years ago

Text

Get In Losers. We’re Going Witch Hunting

I Walk in Dread- 1691(-1692), Deliverance Trembly

By Lisa Rowe Fraustino

Don’t judge the picture. Google had no images that I felt comfortable using license wise so I took a (bad) picture of my copy.

Age of Protagonist: 12

#ReadingThoughts

-Before I even start I am digging the Puritan names. First Remember Patience and now Deliverance (and I would come to find ANOTHER MEM!!).

-My edition looses points or not having a ribbon even though it’s hardcover. This negatively impacts my reading experience for Reasons.

-Hold it. Is her uncles’ name really Razor Strap? I know Puritans were big on using random phrases from the Bible for their naming, but is that really a phrase in the Bible? Also, Sister Mem had me confused it was Mem from the last book for a hot second.

-SO do Mem and Deliverance just live with their uncle? Just the three of them? (The answer I quickly found was yes.)

-I appreciate the lesson on town politics. That's important for the Salem area in 1692ish.

-I am confused by what’s happening with the year. Why is it Dec 31, 1691, then Jan. 1, 1691, and then Jan. 2, 1691/2. There is a bullshit explanation in the about the author section. If you’re worried about Accuracy when it comes to the Julian vs Gregorian calendar, put something in the text. You’re average grade schooler isn’t going to jump to that . If I remember correctly, there’s something about the Gregorian calendar differing from the Julian calendar in the Anastasia book that is handled better. Liv explains other things to the reader, why not this?

-Why is a 12 year old more responsible than a 17 year old? Especially in 1692. Mem should at least have a higher opinion of herself in the family hierarchy and be preparing to keep her own house as a wife.

-Again, I feel Mem should be more mature than Liv.

-Liv can use her sister’s boy-craziness to her advantage. Mem is willing to shovel shit if there are attractive members of the opposite sex in the vicinity.

-Allergies=Witchcraft. That explains so much about me and my life. Though I suppose it makes sense from a 17th century Puritan POV.

-Mem wants to be a stepmom to 9 kids all of whom are most likely closer to her age than she would be to the potential husband? The last part might not be a big concern in the time period but good gracious that’s too many kids for my liking.

-Age update- some of the kids would be older than her or her age.

-I feel the average target reader would need an explanation of what “God’s Elect” means. Most 12 year olds don’t have a strong grasp on post-Reformation Protestant Theology.

-Poor Liv. She wants to fit un but is failing spectacularly.

-Is Liv going to be among the accused? She’s not on the best of terms with the accusers and has been or will be associated with at least three people who were accused and killed.

- They used the strong trick for loose teeth in the 17th century? I have no evidence or data to argue one side or the other but I am suspicious. Somewhat amused, but suspicious.

-I find the tithing man hilarious. I want a stick with a fuzzy rabbit foot on one end and a knob for whacking people on the other. Also, he deserved getting thumped back by the one guy,

-I am calling bullshit on Goody Corey sniffing out only girl scent. Either it’s a bit or she’s a witch, not her husband. (Spoilers: He’s accused and refuses to confess so the town can’t take his land and is pressed to death while trying to get a confession. Post reading note: I totally forgot/didn’t know that Goody Corey was also accused and killed.)

-I don’t know really anything about the real Goody Corey, but she seems like a stand-in for an enlightened modern person, above the provincial notions of witchcraft and the commonplace racism toward Amer Indians. I’m not saying everyone thought they were the devil, but a majority thought that they were superior to the indigenous peoples of the American colonies.

-Mr. Cooper’s letter is too vague! We need deets!

-Because this is told through Livs’ eyes everyone asking about their uncle and checking in on them comes off as invasive and nosy but as an adult, a twelve year old and a seventeen year old have been left on a farm by themselves for almost two months at this point is an issue. Is he ever coming back?

-WHAT!? Goody Corey has a bi-racial son born when she was estranged from her first husband? Prepare for a wikipedia tangent because I had to a a google to corroborate this. Wikepedia backs this up but what it doesn’t back up is the timeline. I read her as in her 40s or 50s in the book. According to wikepedia (don’t judge me, it’s good for basic facts and a starting point) she was 72ish in 1692 and this biracial son was her first child who would have been 50ish at this point and was born before Martha Corey was ever married. *End Tangent* Good for her though if she did indeed five her husband an earful after Liv left.

-Hold on. Mr. Cooper wants to talk to Uncle Razor Strap about Mem marrying Darcy, not him. Mem is gonna be devastated.

-Would electricity have been a concept a) known in 1692 and b) be well enough known that a random 12 year old in the colonies with little formal schooling would be comfortable enough using the phrase “electrical lightning.” No, I will not be googling this. Googling historical facts is one thing, googling sciencey things is another thing entirely,

-Did the girls hear the stories and then claim to have witnessed ZYX or did they independently corroborate the stories? One is much less suspect than the other.

-At this point I wonder will we ever meet Uncle Razor Strap? Is he dead? Is he trying to get back to Salem? Is he abandoning them?

-I feel the leap to “Am I a witch?” after having a weird dream about nursing a baby Sarah Goode is sensible as someone who has been about to call the Vatican several times when their period was late. In those cases clearly the only explanation was pregnancy, even when physically impossible just as being a witch is Livs’ conclusion here.

-Hopefully the girls can just get out of the Salem area soon and the landlord giving them to the end of the month is a neat enough excuse.

-So Mem thinks that Goody Corey is a witch but is okay with Liv going over there?

-How scary it would be to worry that the one family member you have in the area, who should be protecting you because you’re 12, might accuse you of witchcraft.

-I am delighted the the horse can act as a chaperone. Really? Okay.

-How does the horse give permission to whisk a fainted person into the house? It’s a horse.

-So now Mem is forcing Liv to read her diary to her. Rude.

Thoughts on the Afterward

Meh. Mem marries Darcy but dies young so Liv gets her man. They return to Salem. They don’t go West like they talked about. Liv has a gagillion great grands. No one ever fount her journal. Meh. I’m happy she was happy and all but meh.

Overall Thoughts After Reading

It took almost 200 pages to get through four months. I think I just don’t care for the author. I should have liked this book. It ticks multiple boxes that should be my jam but something about it just... is a no for me. Maybe it’s because I have zero nostalgia for this book. It took me about 4.5 months to get through this book and finding it boring is one of them. No one seems like a well rounded character who has any growth. Last book Mem had a whole arc where she came to terms with losing her mother but this time Liv didn’t really seem to change or grow.

I had high hopes. This book came out right as I was aging out of Dear America but I remember the hype around it on the Scholastic website. (Yes I was a wee nerd who hung out on the Scholastic website.) Sadly I was disappointed.

Also, we nope out of the actual trials. The first trial wasn’t held until JUNE. The book ends on April 30. Yes, we get to see the initial hysteria and flurry of accusations and arrests, but this was just the beginning. This seems like a cop-out.

Rating: 3/10 Sisterly Cat-Fights

Other contenders included False Accusations (this one seemed unfair because while I believe no one who was accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch Hysteria was actually practicing witchcraft, I can’t say with confidence that the accusers were all lying. They may have believed honestly that they were afflicted by witches so calling them false accusations seem disingenuous.) and Bible Verses because Puritans. In the end, I had to honor the brutal way Mem and Live went after each other. Apparently in addition to being sickly, Mem was also small because how else could a 12 year old take her 17 year old sister like that.

#Dear America #Read with me #Puritans #History #Historical #Deliverance Trembly #Salem Witch Hysteria #Salem Witch Trials #I get minorly sweary again. At this point just accept it.

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pitiless-achilles-wept · 4 years ago

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Not dead yet!: Marking my 2-year anniversaries

On Sunday I marked my two-year “cancerversary” of my diagnosis and on Tuesday a member of the support group I co-founded (for young women who are stage 4) died. Like me, she had triple-negative breast cancer. Like me, she was diagnosed stage 4 two years ago. Like me, she had exhausted several types of treatment (because triple-negative is a beast) and was looking for the one that would work. She asked me about Saci (Sassy!) and proposed trying it to her doctor less than a week before she died. Nine days before she passed she joined our Sunday cancer yoga group from bed at the hospital to join our meditation exercises. Like me, she remained confident and positive and absolutely refused to give up hope. (Like me, she also wore her hair purple sometimes.)

There were many things that are unlike about us too. She had two teenage children who now don’t have their mother. She was twelve years older than me and had had Hodgkin’s before she had breast cancer--even worse luck than mine, to triumph over one cancer only to get this diagnosis. Unlike me, she wasn’t strong enough for Saci, the only targeted triple-negative line of treatment, because her body had reacted badly to immunotherapy. She was in the hospital for two weeks with somewhat mysterious symptoms all of which added up to her body shutting down. On Saturday she went home with her family in hospice care. 2 days later she was gone.

It’s not usual for things to go so fast. Typically, doctors, patients, and family members all have some advance warning and patients spend a solid amount of time in hospice care. I am sure that people will ask me why it went that way for her. I’m asking myself why too, since it is so shocking and so entirely unfair. The fact that it can happen that way at all is frightening to me as a fellow patient since it’s the scenario of nightmares. That really could someday be me. No one ever wants to think that--and I cannot live my life focused on it either--but it has to be acknowledged as a possibility.

[More below the cut about memories from 2 years ago today and hopes for the future. Also, an invitation to contribute to some writing if you want.]

Today, January 28th, is the 2-year anniversary of my stage 4 diagnosis. In a way, it feels more significant than my initial cancer news. I had four days being horrified, but thinking that I would get through this as a phase in my life. It would be terrible--I’d have a double mastectomy, scorched-earth chemo, radiation, anything to get rid of the cancer--but then it would be done. On the Monday following my first set of CT scans I learned that that was not true. My lungs were full of tumors. (Later, after lots of waiting, MRIs and biopsies, I'd find that my lymph nodes, spine, and liver were affected too. I still have tumors in all those locations, but no new ones.) I wrote a description of getting that news in an email to a friend over the summer, after I had read Anne Boyer’s "The Undying”:

“The worst part about the lung tumors for me was that my dad had gotten a very early flight and I learned the news while he was in the air. My mom told me we could not text or tell him on the phone, that he would need to be with us both. So I drove to Newark straight from the doctor's office. It was in the teens outside and windy as we slogged to the baggage area where we were to meet. I saw my dad in his warmest and ugliest puffy orange down jacket, looking small in it, forlorn and horribly vulnerable. I fell into his arms, thinking at least that airports were such horrible places, so impersonal and banal, that no one would look twice. 'It's in my lungs,' I said into his shoulder so that I would not have to see his face. I was crying into the jacket that somehow smelled of winter cold even though he had been inside for hours. 'Please, Daddy. Fix it, please.' I spoke like a child because, on some very deep level, I think I really did still believe that my father could fix anything. I was embarrassed, though, and so I tried to stem my tears as he put his big hand on the back of my head and said, 'Oh sweetie, we'll get through this. We will.' I knew that really he could do nothing--and that this was his nightmare of powerlessness--and so I sniffed and blinked and I did not let myself cry again until June.”

Two years later this moment seems as if it just happened. The impact of my diagnosis on everyone dear to me, and especially my parents, is one of the worst things about it for me. We all know that there’s only so much “better” I can get, with the current science, and we’re all playing for time while the research moves forward towards something better, something that would make this a treatable chronic condition. I go back and forth, emotionally, on how likely I think that is and how good my position is for the future. Right now, comparing myself to the group member who died, I feel relatively fortunate, even as chemo exhausts me, I lose every scrap of hair that was ever on my body, and I spend half of my days being almost unable to eat from nausea and loss of taste. I feel glad that I was able to get Saci, that my body has so far stood up to the ceaseless trials I have put it through, with four treatments and surgery (and full-time work and living alone etc. etc.). I feel strong, not scared, even as I feel the emotional toll of terrible loneliness from covid isolation, winter, and carrying a sick body through my days alone.

I do not love the “fight” metaphor because so much of having an illness is completely out of your control and I never want to take myself (or anyone else) to task for “losing.” And so instead I will praise my body for enduring. I will praise myself for my enduring also, in both an emotional and physical way. I checked back in on how I was feeling as this anniversary approached last year and was pleased to see how much better I feel about it now, partly as a function of being in a treatment that is (likely) keeping me stable rather than in the midst of choosing another new one. Here is what I wrote back to my group of friends in November 2019, the run up to the one-year mark:

“I’m feeling like I can’t plan and don’t want to celebrate, like I can’t perform “fine” for the people in my life to spare them from the pain I’m causing by not doing better and feeling horrible about it. Perhaps it would help if I let them know that they didn’t need to perform “fine” for me? I understand the desire to protect me from the obligation to take care of them and appreciate it. But sometimes it can feel like I’m the only one experiencing anger or grief or pain, though I know I’m not. Feeling so isolated in my emotional response provides no catharsis for it. Compassion and sympathy function on the notion of “fellow feeling.” If you’re just out here, feeling by yourself, you can’t expect any comfort. As always, I think of the moment in the Iliad when Priam and Achilles cry together over dead Hector. Grief (and you can grieve for many things aside from a death) is something explicitly to be shared.” So I guess I’ve shared it here. I can do that. And I can do another thing, which is to tell you I love you. People don’t really say it enough and reserve it too entirely for romantic contexts. It’s weird--it’s not like we are wartime rationing love! And every time anyone says it to me it helps. It’s an affirmation that I am integral in some way to people’s lives which, in a society that so greatly valorizes marriage/partnership and children, is something I can be in doubt about.”

There are some things I like here, though, and that I would now like to reiterate and invite you, my far-flung friends, to do for my 2-year milestone. Never has the notion of “fellow feeling” in times of grief and depression hit harder or been more important than during covid. In a way, the nation (or even world) was forced into much the same position, emotionally and practically, that my cancer put me in. People are isolated, unable to perform “fine” and wondering if other people feel the same way, or even if any of us can take care of each other at all. I am here to tell you that you can. Maybe not immediately but--sooner than you think--you can. Emotional reserves may be low but reaching out to support someone else can actually replenish them. You do not have to feel alone, or to feel, alone.

And for me, for this milestone and for the cancer-related depression that I certainly do have, I’d like to invite you to help me, so that I can do the same for you. I invite you to write something about how this milestone feels for you (either about me or not), how it relates to all the other insane things going on in the world or with you (not about me at all), how you felt on the original day when I shared my stage 4 diagnosis (definitely about me)--really anything that is on your mind or in your heart.

“Oh great,” you may think, “the English PhD has asked us to do homework!”. But no! It's up to you what you do. Write in whatever form you want, however long, even anonymously. And if you do I will write you back! Not with grades or comments, but with something to connect to what you shared. It is a way to create fellow-feeling; to open up, connect, heal. With me, yes, but also as the group of extraordinary people who have gone with me so far on this hard road. It’s a very different proposition to support someone through time-limited treatment with a good outcome than it is to sign on for whatever comes next. You are all, truly, pretty extraordinary.

Anyone who wants to send a note or reflection can email me or drop a file or post in this Google drive folder. Like I said, feel free to share whatever and do it anonymously if you’d rather. You can also askbox me here (better than DMS) or submit a post to this blog. (I'm taking a chance with open DMs for now...we'll see if that needs to change.)

I am grateful for all of you every day, but especially today.

Love, Bex

p.s. The title of this post refers to the cinematic classic "Monty Python and the Holy Grail," a film my high school self and friends loved. They, along with other wonderful folks. gave me a "cancerversary" cake with "Not dead yet, motherfucker!" on it this Sunday. p.p.s. The average life expectancy for people who get this diagnosis is 18 months to 3 years. Hitting 5 years would be extraordinary. Starting Year 3 is a huge deal and I have every intention of being extraordinary. (Never been average at anything in my life...I either succeed spectacularly or fail epically!)

#my life as a cancer patient #cancerversary #stage 4 #mbc #metastatic breast cancer #personal #memories #bex writes #writing invitation #quarantine life

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scribble-blog · 5 years ago

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Soulmate AU part 7!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Damian was not panicking.

Marinette was at his side, her hand securely in his offered arm, and whatever sixth sense produced the electricity between them mellowed as they kept in contact. They were walking the gardens, but aside from their initial introductions, he hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to say that wasn’t overly blunt, didn’t reveal his own confused nervousness, or wouldn’t sound entirely idiotic.

Marinette, for her part, seemed content to walk in silence. Which, from what he’d read from her and what Tim has said about his meeting- which Damian was still scowling about- with her last night, was out of character. But he found that with his own normal faculties so misaligned, he couldn’t exactly hold it against her.

“Here,” she said, letting go of him, and as Damian stopped accordingly he realized she’d drawn him to one of the further greenhouses, which was empty of people. Even with him leading, she’d drawn him somewhere alone, which sent off his internal alarms instantly.

Except that she was his soulmate. And perhaps she just wanted to talk to him for the first time without the threat of the public recognizing him.

He’d been grappling since Tim had mentioned her ability to take him down without warning with the thought that- perhaps, despite what he’d been trying to do for years in making himself someone worthy of being both Batman’s son and Robin, he was still the person who was raised as an assassin, and his soulmate might, possibly, also be on the less savory side of those who knew how to defend themselves.

The immediate revelation about supervillains in Paris and the fact that she knew how to fight like that to protect her life was a point back towards comfort, but he still couldn’t discount it.

And then his whole family had wondered why Tim had stopped to speak with a random civilian on a rooftop in the first place, and he was mostly sure they hadn’t bought Tim’s half assed excuses, so they would surely know about her by noon.

He realized he’d just been staring at her, yet again. Photos didn’t do her eyes justice, he thought, the blue both sweet and dazzling. Her mouth was still curved into a small half smile, the way it had been since she’d spotted him. In her white dress, surrounded by plants and with the natural light filtering in from the windows, she looked almost- angelic.

“I’ll go out on a limb,” Marinette said, eyes meeting his. “We’re soulmates. I’m sure with your status you’ve had people try to fake it, so-“

She moved the neckline of her dress, pulling it low but not scandalously so, until he saw the tidy script of his own handwriting across her shoulder. For half a moment, he wanted to reach out and trace it.

She licked the pad of her thumb and scrubbed it against the mark, but there was no movement, no blurring or smearing.

“You realize that is entirely unnecessary,” He couldn’t stop himself from saying scornfully. “Seeing as how your name is also on my skin. Though you’ll excuse me if I don’t show you.” He chose deliberately not to bring up the electric feeling that still thrummed faintly in the space between them.

“Not everything is as easy as shoulders,” Marinette just shrugged, the motion slipping the dress back into place.

“You successfully pulled me away from any onlookers,” he kept going, and somewhere in his mind he was already despairing over himself. “What did you want?”

She didn’t wince, but it seemed like a close thing. “I wanted to be able to introduce ourselves. Properly.” She sat on one of the garden benches, and he sat beside her. “I know nothing about you.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe you didn’t do hours of research on me when the marks first appeared.” He knew that even in France the Wayne name was well known, even if it wasn’t a household name like in Gotham.

“Did you?” She asked, and he made a face. She laughed in response to it, and it made him want to smile. Before he could think about it to much, he let his mouth tug upwards, sharing just a bit of her infectious joy. “I didn’t think so, somehow. No, when the marks appeared I was entirely in love with someone else, and I refused to look you up out of spite. It was only yesterday after running into you like that, my friends made me look you up.”

He was not comfortable with whatever ugly feeling settled in his chest when she mentioned being in love with someone else, so he firmly pushed it aside. “I googled your last name- two years ago, but I didn’t actually look you up until last night. I have to say, you’ve got quite an impressive resume from that google search alone.”

He didn’t miss the slight twist to her lips. Insecure about her accomplishments, perhaps? He’d have to put an end to that.

He realized he was already very much thinking about her being around for a very long while.

Shit.

“I barely found anything on you, though,” she hummed instead of acknowledging his praise. “Only articles about you arriving here in Gotham, and something about you being presumed dead for a while? But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. Do you like animals?”

He felt a bit thrown by her rapid change of subjects but also- grateful, that he wouldn’t have to start immediately lying to her. It didn’t hurt that she’d chosen a favorite topic of his. “I have several. My dog, Titus, who my father gave to me, a cat named Alfred, given to me by our butler, and a cow.”

“Hold on- you have a cow?”

He held back his amusement at her bewilderment. “Her name is Bat-Cow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He thought it looked cute, like when Alfred had been a kitten, eager to attack his foot when he walked by.

“I’m not sure if I believe you.”

He shrugged. “Bat-Cow doesn’t need your belief to be any more or less real.”

She continued staring him down before finally nodding to herself. “I’ll take it on good faith.”

“Do you have any pets?” He returned the question, still awkward but trying to be as interested in her as she was in him without all of the- quirks of his personality. He was historically not good with first (or continuing) impressions.

“None,” she sighed, “but I desperately want them. If you googled my last name-“

“Ah, the bakery. No pets allowed?” He inferred, and she nodded.

“I’ve always wanted a hamster. Maybe a cat. Although that dream has died off a little in recent years...” She looked more amused than sad, so he let it go. “How do you take your coffee?”

He managed to keep up with her constantly changing topics, flitting from coffee to school subjects to languages. He found himself- for once- falling into actual easy conversation, and she kept up with him just the same. She was smart, he realized as they talked about school, where she told him about being moved up a grade and still taking advanced classes, and whenever he said something a bit too wry and sarcastic her eyes would flit away and one side of her smile would tick up, as if trying not to laugh and agree. He get uncomfortably as if he were flying, the swooping sensation in his stomach uneasy but- she would smile at him again for something and he would find himself hard pressed not to give her a small smile in return. And then they were interrupted.

“Ah, the littlest Wayne.”

The woman at the door was very familiar to Damian. Her long red hair, skin with its faint green pallor- Poison Ivy, but mostly now just Pam Isley, who was practically the reason his father had poured so much into these gardens and other green initiatives.

And she was bleeding from a bullet wound in her side.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic #OH SHIT EVERYONE!! is this some actual plot and action going on???#theyve met; Damian’s hopeless and trying and already half in love #Marinette is being her usual sweet subtly sassy and wonderful self- but whats her side of the story look like??#AND IVY IS BLEEDING #OOPS

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itsclydebitches · 4 years ago

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YYH Recaps: Koenma Appears

Welcome to episode two, everyone! Before we get to the recap proper, I want to continue down Nostalgia Lane for a moment. Remember how last time I mentioned a Hiei bookmark I used daily back in middle school? Well, I tore through an old "treasure box" I created as a kid (a collection containing everything from a shark tooth to a small book on witchcraft. You know, the important things every child needs) hoping to find it... but I didn't. It's a hard life we lead.

However, I did find some other YYH relics that I thought you all might enjoy seeing. Behold — and, if you'd like, laugh at — my collection:

First up is a picture of young Toguro and Genkai that I wanted to use as my bookmark, but found that it was too wide. For the record, I didn't (and still don't) care about Toguro much, he was just the byproduct of finding a cool Genkai picture. Not shown is the back of the image with the names of my classmates because I made them all sign this along with our yearbook.

God bless my friends for putting up with me.

Second is a collection of very pretty trading cards that I ordered from god only knows where. I have vague memories of not finding any at my local comics shop and convincing my mom to let me order on The Olde Internet. Did I want the trading cards to trade them? Absolutely not. They exist to sparkle and make my heart happy.

Finally, I've saved what is perhaps the best for last. Now, you have to understand that grade to middle school age Clyde did not have the education that she would receive later on, which includes a knowledge of the ephemeral nature of fanworks and the importance of accurate record keeping. What this means is that I have absolutely no context for this. No author, no explanation... just the image itself.

Was this a standalone fanart? A part of a fic? Some specific request or just the will of the artist? I cannot answer these questions. I tried a reverse image search (which is, admittedly, the extent of my tech skills) and you know what the single hit I got was? "Fiction." Thanks, google. So yeah, I can only assume that my child self considered Kurama giving a de-aged Hiei a bubble bath adorable enough to save, but the artist wasn't important enough to jot down for future viewing. Sorry about that, mystery artist. And, as should go without saying, if anyone does know where this came from please let me know! Though I suspect that this is a case of a YYH-specific site closing down and the fanworks getting lost along with it. That happened a great deal before the age of AO3 when volunteers decided to put their time and talent towards saving fanworks of all sorts...

But enough of all that. Let's get to recapping!

As we established last episode, Yusuke and Botan are on their way to the spirit world to kickstart Yusuke's ordeal. Watching this after over a decade of consuming other media, I really appreciate that Yusuke acts like a human person and asks lots of questions about this. When Botan is cryptic for the sake of the audience — we're going to see "the person" who can explain everything — Yusuke is justifiably like, and what person would that be?? I mean, this is also a way to establish basic facts for the viewer and it simultaneously feeds into Yusuke being someone who is difficult for the sake of being difficult — "If someone wants to say something, they should come to me!" — but it's just nice to see a character who doesn't accept cryptic BS because the story needs them to. If Botan gives an unclear, but ~dramatic~ explanation, Yusuke is going to call her out on that.

So she explains that they're going to see King Yama and Yusuke is all whoa whoa whoa, there's royalty involved? Suddenly, he's not so adamant that they come to him.

Botan tries to reinforce this rare spark of humility and demands that Yusuke be on his best behavior from here on out.

Pff. Yeah right.

But “he can send you to oblivion forever if he wants to!” is a suitable enough threat to cow Yusuke for now. Which is interesting considering that a few hours ago he was happy to accept hell as his rightful ending. Granted, we could argue that there's a big difference between hell and oblivion — a character may not be afraid of punishment in the same way they are a lack of existence — but I'd say this ties more into Yusuke's development at the wake. Now that he's accepted that people care for him and that he should strive to return to them, the threat of having it snatched away actually means something. Even if that line is otherwise positioned as a comedic moment.

Botan flies them through a portal where we see the River Styx below and Yusuke comments on how big everything is. At first I was like, "What are you talking about? You were just flying over some major city in fictional Japan, wasn't that big too?" but this line makes more sense when they reach the palace and you realize that yeah, it's big. As in, the camera blurs while tilting down its length to show how insanely tall it is. Yusuke and Botan are tiny gnats at the gate's entrance.

"Oh man, what a pad!" Yusuke says and sure, that's one way to look at it lol.

Botan announces that she has a "new arrival" and the gates open for them, but so far there's no one else around. One part of me wants to question the time and budget put into this scene because shouldn't there be, like, thousands of people? Even just waiting outside? The idea that this is the hub of the underworld and that Botan is responsible for ferrying all the souls, yet she is guiding just this one (1) dude for a solid day is, from a world building perspective, kind of nuts. But beyond the need to develop Botan as a character (she can't be a part of the story if her job is treated realistically, with all the endless work that entails), I think this choice functions rather well from an atmospheric perspective too. Meaning, this moment is supposed to be rather tense for Yusuke. He just died, just found out the afterlife exists, just discovered a desire to get his life back, and is now about to meet a King who can toss him into oblivion if he's rude — which Yusuke always is. So this is a Very Dangerous Moment and their relative isolation feeds into that. As does the setting. Yusuke flinches back from the hallway, saying that it looks like a giant throat, so he is now literally walking into the belly of the beast.

Suddenly, the size of the palace isn't an indicator of awesome wealth, just general intimidation. Also, check out the spikey purple mountains in the background and the harsh reds of the scene, especially compared to the soft yellow of the river. All of it is designed to create an, "Oh shit" reaction in both Yusuke and the audience.

Yusuke's image of King Yama matches these surroundings:

Oh wait! Wrong character ;)

He's massive, red, shadowed, and poses a formidable threat. And how does Yusuke deal with threats? By fighting them! Even those he can't hope to beat. Remember, this isn't a situation where Yusuke has any power here, but he still desperately holds onto the possibility that he might. What if he gets off a punch on King Yama's nose? Then goes for his eyes? Yeah, that'll work!

Overlooking the fact that it absolutely would not — Yusuke's fantasy conveniently skips how he escapes Yama's clutches — what exactly is Yusuke hoping to accomplish here? Somehow take over the entire underworld? Escape as a ghost and live out his afterlife in hiding? We don't know and that's because Yusuke doesn't know. He doesn't think ahead, he just obeys this instinct to fight. An instinct that, crucially, overrides everything else. Botan has already told him that all Yusuke needs to do is be polite and everything will be fine, but it's not even that Yusuke believes that he can't achieve that; that he knows himself too well and, fearing a slip, starts planning for a potentially inevitable confrontation. There are simply no plans outside of battle plans. Yusuke just hears about someone vaguely intimidating and his brain jumps straight to, "How do I beat him in a fight?" no matter the odds, or that other options are readily available to him. Again, much of YYH's characterization occurs though its comedy, so outside of the general humor of witnessing this fantasy, it actually does a stellar job of reinforcing precisely who Yusuke is. In life the only thing he had going for him was his ability to fight. It was his one joy, his one skill, arguably the one good thing he did if we frame those reflexes as "saving" the kid... so is it any wonder that fighting dominates his every thought? It's all he knows.

And, as we'll see down the line, that single-minded obsession is very useful to the spirit world.

For now though, Yusuke finishes his absurd plans to take down King Yama and Botan asks what in the world he's muttering about back there. Which is an unintentionally hilarious line because by the end Yusuke is not muttering, but full on shouting. Botan. How did you not hear him?

Not important. They reach the next door and we get our first inkling that all is not as Yusuke (and we) expect when Botan leans into an intercom to say that they've arrived. Tech in a fantasy spirit world? This feels not only out of place, but rather... mundane? That's the point. When the doors open Yusuke expects his super scary monster, but gets... a whole lot of monsters that aren't scary at all!

The underworld is run by various demons (or ogres), though their looks are contrasted with the harried office worker personalities they've got going on. Someone is running by with a comically tall stack of papers. Someone else is shouting into a cell phone. The first two demons we see cross paths, looking like they're about to punch one another, just as Yusuke expects... except they're just dramatically getting out of the other's way, worried not about the hierarchy of this realm, but the fact that someone is behind schedule. The nerve!

"This place is a madhouse!" we hear somehow shout and yeah, that's the joke. The afterlife is just as chaotic, overworked, and — ultimately — boring as any human office. For all the strangeness of seeing hundreds of demons, this is familiar.

Which, alongside Botan's bubbly nature contrasting assumptions about the Grim Reaper, is one of the first instances of YYH undercutting the viewer's expectations in terms of looks. No one entirely looks the part they play in this tale and if you're trying to teach people to look past surface characteristics... there are worse ways to do it. Horrifying creatures with horns and sharp teeth? Nah, they're just chill dudes trying to do their job. Cutesy girl who looks like she belongs in a mall reading magazines? Nah, she's the Grim Reaper. Terrifying delinquent with a spine-chilling reputation? Nah, he makes faces at kids and saves them from cars.

Of course, the "nah" isn't accurate either. These are monsters with horns, Botan is a cutesy girl, and Yusuke is a delinquent with that reputation. The message isn't so much that people look like Thing A, but get to know them and you'll discover they're actually Thing B, it's the idea that you can be A and B (and C, D, E...) simultaneously. People — or rather, seemingly simple archetypes — can, in fact, embody multiple characteristics at once.

We'll get our third example in just a second.

Yusuke makes a comment about this being the "dead people stock exchange" — accurate — and Botan leads him to a more ornate door past all the desks. It's clear they've arrived at King Yama's office, since she's bowing and formally presenting him to... someone. Yusuke looks around for the giant beast he's imagined, only for a tiny voice to hail him from the ground.

Looks are deceiving!

“This is Yusuke Urameshi and he’s honored to meet you." Botan knows what's up. She knows Yusuke isn't going to express anything of the sort without some prompting. Too bad he's busy cracking up at this apparent child running the show. Side note: Yusuke has a fantastic laugh.

He even goes so far as to accuse Botan of lying to him.

“Why would I lie about such a thing?!”

“Why would the spirit world be run by a toddler?”

It's true! That’s a legitimate question! I love that Yusuke asks questions. The "toddler" goes on to explain that he's actually the "mighty Koenma," son of King Yama, though he's lived fifty times as long as Yusuke, "so watch your mouth." Assuming Koenma knows and/or remembers how old Yusuke is — fourteen — and is good at math, that puts him at seven hundred years old. He looks good for his age!

"And in addition to knowing the secrets of the universe," he says, "I am quite potty trained."

You've gotta love Koenma.

Yusuke's attitude changes drastically once they get down to business. Koenma produces an egg, saying that Yusuke's ordeal is to hatch it and face what comes out. The hatching part isn't difficult, all he needs to do is keep it on his person. The challenge is in the fact that this egg will feed off his spirit energy and that energy in turn will change what kind of creature develops. If his spirit is wicked and cruel, so will be the beast and it will devour Yusuke upon hatching.

However, if his spirit is good and kind, the beast will become a sort of guardian, guiding him back to his living body.

Note though that throughout this conversation the egg is always a "beast." It's a "monster." It's not necessarily intentional, but there's a strong bend towards the negative here in the description that really emphasizes the whole "ordeal" aspect. Koenma briefly reassures Yusuke that he can remain a ghost if he prefers, but he's already made up his mind. Despite another threat of being lost to a void — this time through spiritual digestion — Yusuke takes the egg almost without hesitation.

He regrets it later though.

"I can't believe I did that."

Can we blame him? I'd be nervous about some egg feeding off the energy of my soul too and I'm a former, almost straight A student (damn you, math) with no life-altering regrets and a general desire to put as much good into this world as I'm able. I’m boring. But what if those occasional, mean little thoughts you have add up? What if the prejudices you're still unlearning stack against you? Does the egg care about what you do, or only how you feel about the act? This sort of test would eat me alive!

Maybe literally.

Good thing Yusuke doesn't have time for an existential crisis!

Just as he's beginning to regret this decision, Botan points out that it won't matter if he passes if he doesn't have a body to return to. Now, why wouldn't he have a body? Maybe because his mom is set to cremate him tomorrow.

Whoopsie.

Yusuke is, understandably, distraught. We get another excellent exchange:

“Botan, is there any way for ghosts to communicate with living people?”

“Yes.”

“SO ARE YOU GONNA TELL ME?”

I swear, Yusuke is the only smart protagonist. I mean, he's dumb as a sack of bricks at times, but that's neither here nor there. Bless this fictional boy for reacting like an actual person.

Botan explains that people are more attuned to the spirit world when they're asleep, so Yusuke can deliver a message to someone in their dreams. Seems easy enough. They first head to Atsuko, but find that she's raging drunk and nowhere near sleep.

"You fool!" she yells. "No one gave you permission to die!" Atsuko continues to yell about how plenty of people survive car accidents, so why couldn't you? "Were you mad at me, Yusuke? Didn't I raise you right?"

Botan comments on how sad the display is. Yusuke's response?

“The only thing that’s sad is now she’s got one more excuse to act that way."

Y'all, that's some mature shit for a goofy shonen anime. Yeah, Yusuke recognizes that, while she's obviously heartbroken, his death has just given her another reason to do what she's been doing for years: drinking herself into a stupor. Toss in Atsuko putting the blame on Yusuke — "No one gave you permission to die!" — plus the belief that she did do a good job — "Didn't I raise you right?" — and it paints a rather bleak picture. This is by no means an uncommon theme. Negligent parents, whether they're framed that way or not, are pretty common in shonen series, but it's still rather jarring to re-watch this as an adult and go, "Oh. The situation’s like that." It's honestly a lot when you remove it from YYH's otherwise humorous, casual context.

Yusuke heads to Keiko's next and finds her sound asleep, commenting on how her room looks more "girly" than when they were kids. Check out that smile!

He's about to try and deliver his message, but Keiko is in the midst of a nightmare. “She’s crying… what’s wrong?”

Oh my god. Remember how I just said Yusuke is also the densest protagonist around? Example A right here. You just died, you fool! You just saw Keiko collapse at your funeral. What do you think is wrong??

We get a peek at Keiko's dream where she is — shockingly! — thinking of Yusuke. He's far out of reach, walking away and unresponsive to her calls. Keiko soon trips and Yusuke disappears completely.

Luckily, she has the real thing at her bedside. Yusuke tries talking to her and at first it's unclear if this supernatural stuff is really working. That is, until Keiko murmurs about how heavy he is.

Reassured, Yusuke delivers his message that Keiko needs to help Atsuko pull herself together and, most importantly, call off burning his body. We get this very soft and pretty background to establish their yet unspoken feelings for one another, though Yusuke gets close with, “I’m coming back. I don’t want to see you cry anymore" as he brushes her tears away. Aww.

Keiko wakes, thinking at first it was just a dream, but no, "I'm sure I felt it."

The next morning she heads to Atsuko's to explain the dream, only to first hear that Atsuko had a dream too, this one about Yusuke "living in some other world full of ogres and he kept knocking them down until he became their leader." It sounds absurd, of course, but it brings Atsuko some comfort to think of her boy in a place like that and Keiko backs down. Right, she'd only had a comforting dream too.

Now, there are two important parts to this exchange. The first is that this is an excellent example of how you let the characters drive the story, rather than forcing the characters adhere to the plot you've come up with. Meaning, in the latter situation, our cast would have needed to have their personalities twisted and the viewer's suspicion of disbelief tested to give Yusuke what he needs: a sleeping family member willing to believe his message. But it absolutely makes sense for Atsuko to be drunk rather than sound asleep, so Yusuke can't rely on her. Likewise, it absolutely makes sense for Keiko to be asleep, but not believe the dream once she's woken up. After all, how many times have we been persuaded by something in the dead of night only for things to look more logical and less likely in the morning? The characters act both like themselves and like people who do normal, people-ish things, which means that Yusuke runs into more conflicts. That's good! It not only raises the tension and stakes — now he has less than a day to convince someone — but makes his inevitable success feel that much sweeter. A less well written show (cough-RWBY-cough) would have had the characters change their personalities, behave in unlikely ways, or just come up with a sudden, contradictory solution because Yusuke needs to keep his body. Instead, Yusuke actually has to work for that within the bounds of the rules established and the likeliness of each plan succeeding. The first one fails? Move onto plan #2.

Second, this dream of Atsuko's has some cool implications within YYH's world. Meaning, we're about to learn in just a moment that some people are naturally more aware of the supernatural than others, even when they're not asleep. We'll also see down the line that spiritual awareness tends to run in families... so perhaps Atsuko possesses more than the average mother? I'm not saying it's necessarily intentional on the author(s) part, but we can choose to read this dream as evidence of spiritual awareness — true insight into the world Yusuke was just in and the fantasies he'd had about conquering it — rather than just a coincidental joke for the viewer. After all, Yusuke gets his own spiritual awareness from somewhere...

(Okay, so there's totally another, canonical reason for that, but we can have both!)

So, as Yusuke puts it, “This dream business isn’t gonna cut it.”

“There’s always the final method," Botan says.

“You always this vague?”

I am literally living for these interactions.

Botan explains that the more extreme form of communication is possessing a living person, but there are two rules attached: it has to be someone you know and the vessel has to be someone who is quite spiritually aware, as discussed above. Atsuko isn't a contender because the story hasn't acknowledged that she might be sensitive, that's just my own headcanon now. Yusuke outright says, “In that case I’m screwed. There’s no one like that!"

Cut to good old Kuwabara.

At first it looks as if he's just oh so conveniently sensing a spirit right when the audience has learned he has this power, but in reality it's Yusuke and Botan flying behind him that sets it off. Again: this show is pretty good about keeping things internally consistent, rather than making choices because That's Just How Stories Work, I Guess. Kuwabara's friends note that he's acting strangely and I love this detail that apparently one of the guys is new to their group because the other two need to explain that this is the "tickle feeling." Ever since Kuwabara was a boy he's been able to sense the dead around him. Some nice, some... not so nice.

He looks directly at Yusuke — even though he's not able to see him — and declares that what's following them is “A puny low-level ghost, like a haunted racoon or something.”

I'd support Yusuke's anger more if he hadn't just exclaimed his surprise that Kuwabara serves a purpose 😂

Yusuke is pissed enough though to proclaim that he won't do it, nuh-uh, no way is he possessing this guy's body. Botan's response is one of my FAVORITES in the WHOLE SERIES:

"Here's my impression of Yusuke: look at me, I’m burning!”

Literally 75% of this series is just about a found family sassing one another and I love it.

Obviously this helps Yusuke remember his priorities and he grudgingly agrees to the plan. Botan prepares Kuwabara's body somehow — idk, spiritual magic or whatever — and warns Yusuke that he only has an hour to find someone and warn them because a human body can't handle possession any longer than that. Sure. I buy it.

So Yusuke takes control and please ignore the incredible ethical issues here. The show will never acknowledge them again.

He blurts out, “Hey, check it out! I’m inside Kuwabara, feeling smooth!"

Istg I don't remember the series being this unintentionally gay. I don't even ship Yusuke/Kuwabara and I'm digging the possibilities here lol.

Back on track, his friends drag him with, “Looks like he’s back to normal” because again, 75%. What's not normal though is Kuwabara (Yusuke) suddenly charging down the street to leave them behind. He heads straight to the restaurant where Keiko's parents work, demanding to see her. They're rightly concerned about this stranger barging in and screaming for their daughter.

Upon asking who he is/why they should tell him, Yusuke makes his biggest mistake: “Because it��s me, you guys, I’m Yusuke!”

Obviously the time limit and raw emotion of knowing who he is has outweighed the knowledge that, you know, no one would believe that. Yusuke has spent the last two days bopping around as a ghost and familiarizing himself with some of the afterlife's insanity. The knowledge of what's normal for everyone else — AKA, not dead boys appearing in strangers' bodies — is not at the forefront of Yusuke's mind.

So, Keiko's parents react accordingly! The father in particular is disgusted by this claim, going so far as to threaten Yusuke with his knife and outright insult Kuwabara's looks: “Yusuke was never ugly like you… we were close family friends with that boy!" His wife chimes in that this kind of joke is particularly heinous on the day of his funeral. Between Atsuko drunkenly blaming Yusuke for his death and Mr. Takenaka grieving for what he might have been, this is one of the few times we see someone just sad for Yusuke's passing, exactly as he was and without regrets or criticism. "We were close family friends with that boy" paints a nice contrast to the delinquent persona Yusuke was cultivating.

As he's thrown out of the restaurant he says, “We should have special passwords for times like this!” Fun fact, my family does! Well, not this exact situation lol. I was given a password as a child to memorize in case my parents ever needed to send someone else to pick me up or interact with me in any way. If the stranger didn't know the password, I was to kick up a fuss. I rest easy with the knowledge that this password would not doubt assist me if I was ever in Yusuke's position!

With Keiko's parents a bust, Yusuke starts sprinting to everywhere she frequents with the hope of running into her. Or at least he tries.

Yusuke is suddenly waylaid by a group of nameless teens with a bone to pick with Kuwabara. And you know what? I like it. I wonder how much of my praise stems from coming off of RWBY Volume 8, but it's just so nice to watch a story where the plot — simple as it is — hangs together. We've established that Kuwabara is a street fighter. Last episode we watched him start a fight with Yusuke. Yusuke is on a time limit. Now Kuwabara's tendencies have created a new hurdle for Yusuke!

Needless to say, Yusuke kicks butt, even in Kuwabara’s body.

As one guy is passing out he says, “Man that hurt! I didn’t think anyone could throw punches that hardcore except Yusuke Urameshi."

Yusuke: “Darn, giving Kuwabara a good name." LOL

You think this challenge is finished though? Nah. Over the course of about half an hour Yusuke encounters a comical number of people trying to get even with Kuwabara.

As always, I like the nods towards this writing decision to help justify it, with Yusuke wondering how Kuwabara has pissed this many people off. If you want to pull off something that has a low chance of happening, it can help to give the characters a "Seriously?" moment. If both they and the audience are on the same page over how ridiculous this situation is, the audience is more likely to accept it once the character does.

By the time Yusuke escapes his hour is nearly up. However, thanks to some coincidental plotting, he spots Keiko's friends just across the street!

YYH does a decent job of making its characters feel like they have their own lives outside of what's immediately happening on screen and we get a good example of that here. We pick up the girls' conversation partway through, both of them worried about Keiko's state of mind and, given that we'll see in a second that Keiko was in the store with them, it implies that something happened to reignite this worry. They're off enjoying their day, doing their own thing, there was an event we're not privy to, and now we catch the response to that. It just helps make the characters feel more well-rounded even though they are, at their core, one-dimensional background characters who don’t even have names yet.

Case in point: the one girl is still concerned with their image. "People are starting to say things!"

Yeah, your friend's childhood friend just died. Hopefully they're saying, "Poor thing."

Anyway, Yusuke runs up to ask where Keiko is only for both girls to run away screaming. Turns out his face is messed up from the numerous fights and Keiko's friends are easily scared.

Luckily, Keiko comes out just a second later and Yusuke is faced with the challenge of how to convince her in, oh, about five minutes. Remember, we've already established through Keiko's parents that just saying, "I'm Yusuke" doesn't work. That's why he hesitates. It's not just drama for the sake of drama, he's stuck.

“I’ve known her my whole life, there must be something between us that only I would do!”

Yeeeeaah. About that 😬

Suddenly inspired (I suppose that's one way to put it...) Yusuke runs up behind Keiko and grabs her breasts. “Keiko, nice uniform! They’re so squishy!”

It goes without saying that, like flipping her skirt up, this isn't okay. More specifically, the problem lies in the story framing this as a joke for the audience, something to laugh at despite Keiko's discomfort, rather than the concept of two childhood friends actually be that comfortable with one another. But, as already established, this is one of the more ehhhh aspects of Yusuke's characterization that, luckily, will mostly disappear as the story goes on.

Note though that the show clearly wants us to think highly of this. Not just as a "joke," but as a smart solution to his problem and more evidence of their inevitable relationship — the background becomes the same soft, bubbly background we saw during their dream conversation. And, admittedly, it does work. Keiko instinctively slaps Yusuke hard enough to knock him to the ground and he starts laughing, saying that he doesn't care what anyone on the street says, she hits the hardest.

What I do like about this is that the assault isn't the only thing Keiko bases her faith on. Not only has she already had the dream, we get to see Yusuke from her perspective, showing all the mannerisms she picks up on by superimposing Yusuke's real body over Kuwabara's. Indeed, she says as much: “I knew it was you from the first time you spoke…and it’s not just your stupid gags, or how you laugh. There are ways you move and speak that in a hundred years I wouldn’t forget."

Catch me crying in this club!

Knowing she believes him and that he's almost out of time, Yusuke reiterates his message: please don't burn my body and also keep Mom on track. Only, you know, it's phrased far better than that lol. As he speaks, both Yusuke's and Kuwabara's voices overlap until the latter grows fainter and only Yusuke's voice remains. His body too. It's a nice touch, avoiding the awkwardness of Keiko having this moment with a stranger, even if that is what's happening on some level.

“I know I’ve been a bum to you at times, but please wait for me."

His hour up, now we can get the awkwardness! Kuwabara comes out of his weird trance thing to find Keiko crying against his chest. Wow, he thinks, this girl must be really into me!

God, to have the confidence of Kuwabara.

Of course, Keiko quickly realizes it's not Yusuke anymore and slaps him too for cuddling her closer. My favorite thing is that when she does this a crowd INSTANTLY appears. I mean they TELEPORT in. We needed an audience for Kuwabara's shame and YYH delivered, all logic be damned.

“Um, sorry about that!” Keiko yells as she runs away, because she's a good person who recognizes that weird spirit things just went on and Kuwabara isn't actually to blame.

“No, that’s okay. I probably deserved it," Kuwabara responds because he's also a good person and I didn't appreciate him nearly as much as I should have as a kid.

Keiko runs all the way to Atsuko's place where she finds her dressed for Yusuke's funeral. She blurts that Yusuke might still be coming back and Atsuko goes, "He already has." Turns out she opened his coffin to "smack him one more time for leaving me" — yikes — and found that his heart had started beating again, just as Koenma said it would.

Being in a shonen anime, they apparently decide to just trust Keiko's message rather than, idk, taking him to a hospital or something.

The camera tilts up to show that Yusuke has been watching all this, including that both women break down again and comfort one another. Aww. How heartwarming.

What's less fuzzy though is this mysterious egg. Yusuke takes another look and finds that it has developed a heartbeat too, presumably in time with his body's. He theorizes that he did decent things today, right? But Botan (teasingly) points out that he did beat up a lot of other kids. Rather than getting angry, Yusuke remains uncharacteristically pensive, emphasizing the magnitude of what this means for him. He's got to get it right.

No pressure or anything! We'll have to see how Yusuke balances his karmic scales in the next episode. Until then, I'll try not to put all my TV time into Star Trek: Voyager :D

See you then! 💜

#YYH #Yu Yu Hakusho #YYH recaps #mymetas

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loverspersonas · 4 years ago

Text

the most beautiful moment in life | part vii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

↳series masterlist

“So it was under this character?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“And it was in English?”

“Yes,” Seokjin said.

“Spelt exactly like this?”

“Yes, Taehyung, okay?” you exclaimed, exasperated. “We covered this already. We were under the bridge by the river and we saw it on the graffiti wall.”

The next day at school, the eight of you met in the library after you and Seokjin had called in a meeting. The way you spoke about it made it sound like you were some sort of breakfast club. You had met in detention, after all. Maybe you could even form a band like they did in the movies.

Taehyung gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just making sure we don’t miss anything.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” the librarian appeared in front of your table, shooting a scalding look between all of you. “This is a library, and we don’t tolerate noise here.”

“Would you look at that,” Yoongi said dryly without looking at her. “Must’ve slipped our mind.”

He didn’t bother hiding any irritation in his voice, so the librarian opened her mouth to retort until Namjoon started with a polite smile, “We’re sorry. We’ll keep it down.”

That seemed to be reassuring enough for her, because she walked away. Leave it to Namjoon to pacify any of the teachers.

“Isn’t it kind of weird that we didn’t notice it before?” Jimin asked in a lower voice.

“We were a little distracted,” Namjoon said. “And it was dark.”

“What if it wasn’t there before?” Hoseok asked.

Jungkook frowned. “Meaning what? Someone wrote it afterwards?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No, it magically appeared there overnight, Jungkook. Yes, someone put it there.”

There was something you didn’t like about his tone. Something about his mood had been off all morning. He could’ve been sarcastic to anyone else, but to you, Jungkook was a little different. You felt almost defensive about him. “You know, that attitude isn’t very helpful,” you spoke pointedly.

Yoongi’s expression was as dry as sand as he looked at you. ”Sorry, did I hurt your feelings, princess?”

It was clear since your first conversation that the two of you would have a kind of relationship where teasing and picking at each other would become a norm. But you hadn’t realized before that he would have these major mood swings. You glanced at him in slight disbelief. “I told you not to call me that.”

“And I told you I don’t care—“

“Guys, really?” Namjoon said, looking between you. “Can we get through a conversation without you two biting each other’s heads off?”

“If one of us stops acting like an ass,” you muttered under your breath.

“Or if one of us stops being such an entitled princess,” Yoongi retorted, apparently having heard your comment.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said, his eyes holding something like a warning.

The older boy let out a sigh and grumbled, “Fine.”

“Back to the main point,” Jimin spoke slowly, like he was making sure you and Yoongi were finished. “Smeraldo. We’re assuming it’s an artist. But none of us have ever heard of him?”

“Or her,” you corrected.

He nodded at you. “Right. Or her.”

“It could be a small artist,” Taehyung said. He was rolling a coin around the table, not so concerned about the noise it was making. “You know, like a local thing. They don’t have much of an online presence normally.”

“Explains why I couldn’t find anything on google,” Namjoon added.

“Then how do we find them?” Jungkook asked.

“The old fashioned way. Look through books, magazines, shops or galleries. Maybe even more graffiti locations.”

Taehyung gave a small sigh. “I forgot how difficult life was before the internet.”

You shot him an amused glance, to which he gave you a sarcastic boxy smile. “Ever the dramatic, Tae.”

“How did the painting end up here?” Seokjin asked. “At Sky Academy of all places.”

There was a small gap as most of you pondered over it. Then Hoseok asked, “As in, what if somehow the academy is connected to the artist?”

“Maybe.”

You gazed around the table for a bit, watching your own expression being mirrored. Seokjin had a good point. What if Smeraldo was associated with the academy? It could make sense since all kinds of people and places endorsed the brand that was Sky. Did that mean that it was just a coincidence you had come across that painting? Or had it been left there intentionally?

You broke out of your thoughts as Yoongi shifted in his chair, grabbing his things as he got up. “Well, you guys have fun with your little research project.”

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked.

“History.” His eyes flicked in your direction. “Which I currently have a 90 average on, to all those who doubted me.”

You held back a scoff, shooting him a fake smile. “Who did you have to pay to change your grade?”

He looked like he wanted to make a retort equally snarky, but settled with mimicking your fake smile, though his was much colder.

Taehyung watched him leave before looking back at the rest of you. “I can really feel the love here.”

It had been a while since you last found yourself on the rooftop of the academy’s main building. Students weren’t typically allowed access to it, except for the gardening club who had done a very nice job of decorating the place with green and shades of purples and pinks and yellows. You loved breathing in the air from up here, where the floral scent fused with the breeze. It was also quiet, and so ideal for when you wanted to think or be on your own.

Which seemed to be often these days.

“Hey.”

The voice startled you a little, but your shoulders sunk in relief when it was just Jungkook walking towards you.

“How’d you know where to find me?” you asked.

“I saw you leave,” he said, sitting down next to the ledge you were occupying. “Not very stealthily, might I add.”

You were downstairs with him and a few of the others and were about to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when you found yourself abruptly wanting to come up here instead. You rolled your eyes slightly. “I’ll work on it. We seem to have thing for rooftops, huh.”

He looked around the vast space, at the plants and the glass ceiling cover with a newfound amazement. “I didn’t know we could come up here.”

You couldn’t help but find his innocent fascination a little amusing, but refreshing too. “Me either. Not until last year when Min-hyuk—“ Now, you remembered why you’d also been avoiding the roof. “We stumbled upon it trying to outrun the football team.”

Jungkook noticed the break in your sentence and your mood, but didn’t comment on it. “They’re that bad, huh?” he joked.

“You have no idea.” You glanced sideways at him. “Say… how come you’re not on any sports team? You look like you could be a jock.”

And you meant it, especially in this lighting that was doing wonders for his side profile. If he wasn’t such an introvert and recluse, he could very well fit in with the sports crowds. You don’t think you noticed it before, but Jungkook was handsome. Soft, shiny hair, a sharp nose and jawline. Not to mention, he was well on his way to being built like an athlete.

He snorted. “I thought jocks were obnoxious and dumb.”

Your mouth formed into somewhat teasing smile. “But you’d be a nice jock.”

“An oxymoron,” he said, returning it with a laugh. He cleared his throat a little as the laugh died down. “Min-hyuk was nice, wasn’t he?”

Your demeanour lost every trace of amusement. “Everyone’s nice at first. Not everyone stays nice.”

“You did.”

At first, you didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you realized it was harder to talk about yourself, especially personal things like insecurities. Was that what Min-hyuk had meant in that one argument when he’d called you unattached and indifferent?

“Can I ask you something?” you started. “When you were on the roof that night, if I hadn’t been there... what would you have done?”

He turned away from you, staring into space as he thought about it. “I don’t know. I feel like if it had been any other day, it would’ve been different. But that was the day we all met. When we found that first painting. It doesn’t make sense, but something kept telling me to hold on a little longer. And then you showed up and it was almost like a sign.”

“I have been called many things,” you mused. Somewhere underneath, maybe you were even amused or flattered. “A sign is not one of them.”

“It’s hard to explain,” he ended up saying.

“Most things are.”

You weren’t going to push him to talk about that night anymore. It was his lowest and darkest point. But you were glad he’d found something to cling to, whether it had been the words transpired between you two on the other roof, or the ambiguous hwa yang yeon hwa. That sliver of hope was like a raft in the middle of the worst kind of ocean. Staying afloat in the storm that was your mind was a struggle you knew all too well.

“Yeah.” His voice trailed off for a bit, like he was gathering courage to ask his next question. You could feel him watching you, as though expectantly. “Were you expecting someone else to come up here?”

“No.” As you turned your had to look his way, you bit back a smile, happy that nothing about it felt forced. “But I’m glad it was you.”

Slowly, his mouth curved into a similar smile, and you think you would’ve just stayed that way if you didn’t turn back to the skyline.

Jungkook released a wistful sigh. “The sky’s really nice from up here. No wonder the garden club doesn’t want to share.”

You laughed. “Right?”

“I hate this,” Jimin said for what you were almost certain was the 500th time.

“The hospital?” You left the elevator of the said memorial hospital first, stopping when you realized the boy wasn’t walking with you. “You’ve said that already.”

He only began walking down the hallway after he noticed the expectant look you were shooting him. “No, the paint on these walls. What is that, eggshell white? It’s atrocious.”

“Okay, first, I really liked your usage of atrocious. And second, relax a little, Jimin.” The tension set in his shoulders was obvious not just to you but the staff and visitors passing by. Granted, hospitals had that sort of effect, but he didn’t need to be this anxious before he even stepped foot in the doctor’s office. “This place doesn’t hate you as much as you hate it.”

He scoffed. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were long enough for him to keep pulling and tugging at. “That’s hard to believe. If the building was alive, I’m sure it would spit me out instantly. I’m like that piece of cardamom you accidentally bite on.”

“You don’t like cardamom?”

“It’s possibly the only thing more atrocious than this paint. How can you like it?”

After the sharpness in his voice and the brief silence that followed, you asked, “How’re you feeling now?”

He wouldn’t look your way, but the blush staining his cheeks was obvious. With his shoulder, he gave you a light push before speeding up. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You let out a small laugh, picking up your pace to match his. If only you were blessed with legs as long as his. “I got you to loosen up a little.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. You let him speak to the receptionist on the floor as you lingered by the side, walking back and forth with your hands in your pockets. He returned to your side a few minutes later, and somehow the anxiety was now practically radiating off of him.

“So, have you always come here alone?” you decided to speak to get his nerves down.

“My parents used to come with me,” Jimin answered. “Then they got busy and… well, I didn’t feel like their presence was helping anyway.”

You raised a brow. “And mine does?”

He pursed his lips together, finally looking at you. You noticed then that he wasn’t much taller than you. Sure, you usually wore boots with platform heels, but out of all the boys, he might’ve been closest in height to you. “I’m not sure yet. I just know that when I ran into you last time… it didn’t feel so horrible to be here.”

“Park Jimin?” A nurse with a clipboard was looking around the waiting area.

Jimin released a breath before stepping forward. “That’s me.”

She nodded at him. “The doctor will see you now.”

As soon as she left, you noticed that Jimin was hesitating to follow her. You came forward to stand beside him, and touched his arm lightly. It seemed to bring him out of some kind of trance. When his gaze found yours, you tried for something like an encouraging smile. “I’ll wait out here.”

Finally, he managed to nod, slowly walking in the direction the nurse had gone in.

While you waited, you found yourself roaming the floor in your boredom. No one paid you any attention, so you didn’t think it was a problem. As you were walking, eyes moving with the patterns on the floors, there was something like an itch in the back of your mind. Like something in your memory being tugged forward.

That was when the floor, the walls, the rooms and posters you passed, all became a familiar sight. Too familiar for someone who tried to avoid the hospital in general. You swore you could even hear someone saying your name. Until you realized that someone was actually saying your name now.

There was a woman in a white coat and a long black ponytail offering you a friendly smile. “Y/N. I thought I recognized you.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts from inside your head to acknowledge her appearance. “Dr. Kim.”

“It’s been quite a while.” Her brow furrowed. “While it is good to see you, I hoped you didn’t need to come back here.”

“I’m not here for me,” you said quickly. “I’m here for a friend. As moral support.”

“Of course.” As she stepped closer, her voice lowered a little. "Can I ask though… how are you doing? The migraines haven’t come back? If your prescription’s out, I can get you—“

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, hoping she understood that you didn’t want to talk about that. “I’m—I’m fine for now.”

She looked at you before sighing sympathetically. “I know you refused to see the psychologist I recommended, but I do hope you’ve been talking to someone.”

With a careless shrug, you said, “My guidance counsellor is trying, for sure.”

The way she was looking at you made it seem like she was debating whether or not to continue. “After the night they brought you in, when I actually had the chance to speak with you…” Her mouth turned into a contemplative frown. “I could just tell there was something more. I’d hoped therapy would help.”

Now, it was your turn to frown. The discomfort was like an itch on your skin, but you tried to ignore it, forcing a confused smile instead. “Help with what? I’m fine, Dr. Kim. It was just a little scratch.”

“Some wounds run deeper than you think,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on yours until she tore them away, and her face regained some lightheartedness. “Have you visited that boy recently?”

At first, the abrupt change in topic took you aback. Then you shot her a puzzled look. “Boy?”

“I know you didn’t want anyone to know it was you leaving flowers in his room, but his family really appreciated it—“

“Y/N.” Jimin reemerged by your side, his gaze then landing on the older woman he too recognized. “Dr. Kim. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

Dr Kim smiled at him. “I presume that you’re the friend who needed moral support.”

He laughed, only with a tinge of uneasiness as his hand moved to the back of his neck. “That would be correct.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She looked from him to you, eyes fixating on yours with something you didn’t fully understand, or didn’t fully want to understand. “I hope you can do the same for each other.”

Jimin waited until she was out of sight before turning to you. “What did she mean by that? How do you know her?”

“She was my old family doctor,” you lied. “How did it go?”

“Oh,” he said, as though remembering why he was even there. "Better than I thought it would. It was just a checkup.”

You started to nod and then your eyes caught a glimpse of the paper he was trying to tuck into his pocket. The kind of paper you were quite used to seeing yourself. “You got a prescription. Jimin… you’re not—“

“It’s nothing serious, Y/N,” he said, lips tugging into a little smile. “Just something for my throat.”

He did that a lot, you realized. Answering with a charming smile to distract the person from the actual answer. You wouldn’t press on, even though you wanted to. A part of your mind was still stuck on some of Dr Kim’s words.

“Come on,” Jimin said, tugging your arm forward. “They’re still serving bagels.”

When you reached home, the lights were on and your mother was sitting on the sofa in the living room. And you would’ve been at least a little surprised, but you were a little distracted.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, getting to her feet. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“My phone was dying,” you replied distantly as you removed your shoes and jacket. “I didn’t see.”

She released a sigh. “Look, you can be mad all you want, but at least text me where you are or that you’re okay.”

You finally stopped and glanced at her briefly. “I was at the hospital.”

Suddenly, your mother’s voice dropped. You couldn’t read her face, but she swallowed almost nervously. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“A friend didn’t want to go alone.”

Her eyes widened. “Your prescription. I completely forgot.”

“It’s fine. I got it already.”

She stood there like she still wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure how. “But is everything okay… with you?”

“I saw Dr. Kim,” you decided to say. Maybe because you wanted to make sense of what she’d said, and because there was a chance, your mother might know something. She’d been there that night in the ER with you. “She said something, and it was kind of strange…” You shook your head. “You know what, it’s probably nothing.”

You turned to leave when your mother spoke again. “I know that I haven’t talked about the night they brought you there.” You opened your mouth to tell her you didn’t want this conversation again, but she raised her hand to stop you. “It’s not that I don’t care, I just—I thought it was better that way for you. I wanted you to move on with your life.”

For the longest time, that was what you wanted too. And for a longer time, you’d really just wanted to hear from her. You tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m starting to think that you can’t really move forward without looking back first. I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed now.”

“Y/N.” You turned halfway, waiting for what else your mother had to say. She hesitated, unfolding her arms from her chest, and finally met your gaze. “I didn’t mean what I said the other day.”

You found that your voice wasn’t working in that moment. And maybe that was because you didn’t know what to say to her. So, you glanced at her another time before heading to your room.

The last thing you wanted that night was to leave the apartment to find yourself at a park near the Academy. What you wanted was a nice bath, to watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, maybe even a bowl of ramen. But the universe didn’t want those things for you, because as soon as you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a text. And normally, you would’ve just ignored it, but you knew it would stay in the back of your mind like an itch you couldn’t get rid of.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too late that buses had stopped running, and that your mother had already retired to her room. You found yourself at the park about a half hour later, and a familiar figure by the swings.

“If you were anyone else, I would think you brought me out here to murder me.”

Yoongi turned his head at your voice. Although, it wasn’t too chilly that night, he was wearing a wool beanie. “Why do you assume I didn’t?”

You gave a small hum. “You don’t give off murderer vibes. You’re more… gothic, underground rapper.”

His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, expression maybe just slightly amused though the streetlights weren’t bright enough to be sure. “How long did you take to come up with that?”

You might’ve retorted if it was another time, but it was late and a part of you didn’t want to agree to his message, asking you if you meet, but another part did want to despite any better judgement you might’ve had. “I don’t have a lot time before my mother notices I’m not in my room. And if you don’t kill me now, she most definitely will.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well,” you said with a shrug. “You can’t always be a princess.”

He paused for a second. “I was being an ass earlier.”

Good, you thought. He caught on to your jab at him. “When? I didn’t notice.”

There was a noise of disbelief as his hands fell at his side. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Wait,” you found yourself saying. Maybe it wasn’t so tactful to respond with sarcasm when someone was trying to be serious. At least, not all the time. “You wanted to apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Who said anything about apologizing?”

You raised a brow. “So, you dragged me all the way out here this late at night because you didn’t want to apologize?”

He gave a half frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t trying to sound like a jerk. Sometimes I’m thinking about something else and it just… happens without me even realizing it.”

You started to nod in understanding. “You project.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You project your feelings on to other people. Even when they’re not who the feelings are directed at.” You shrugged at his surprised expression. “That’s what you were doing earlier, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t mad at any of you,” he said finally, sighing to himself. He brushed some of the hair out his eyes. “There’s just—other things I’m dealing with right now.”

You wanted to feel for him, and deep down, you probably did. But you didn’t want to let people off for being cruel just because they thought they were allowed to. You didn’t want to do that anymore. “That’s not an excuse to be mean.”

“I know.” At least, he had the decency to sound like he meant it. He didn’t meet your eyes as he went on, instead glancing at his feet. “Sorry about what I said to you.”

Suddenly, Yoongi wasn’t the only one who felt awkward with apologies. You forced something in between a scoff and a laugh. “Please, it’s not like you hurt my feelings or something.”

“I didn’t think so. But you probably wanted to hear it, didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes, smirking a little as he saw your expression. “Don’t even deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. “Yes, Yoongi. Thank you for stroking my ego with a half decent apology.”

His expression actually became slightly incredulous and offended. “Half decent? I had to ask Namjoon how to do it.”

Raising your eyebrows partly from surprise and partly because that was the first time you’d heard of anyone asking for instructions on how to apologize, you said, “So, you’ve already practiced this before, possibly more than once, and yet you’re still this unrehearsed?”

“Okay, fuck off,” he scoffed. When you started to laugh, you were sure he was actually going to punch you. “I’m not good at talking to people. Sue me.”

“Well, I can’t for that,” you said with a shrug, the laughs gone but a smile still lingering. You grabbed on to one of the swings, settling into it. “It would be too hypocritical.”

“What, you?” Yoongi said with skepticism. He followed your actions, taking the empty swing beside you. “Please, you're Sky’s favourite girl. You don’t even have to try, and people will fall at your feet.”

It was funny how easily moods could go from amused to sour. “Everyone keeps saying that,” you said under your breath.

“What?”

“It’s not like that.” Shaking your head, you tucked some loose hairs from your ponytail behind your ears. “Not anymore, at least. Everyone keeps imagining this past version of me, but present me is someone else, and I—I’m so confused which one I am or I’m supposed to be.”

It had to be something in the air, you told yourself, that was making you open up this. It had to be, because you didn’t randomly just burst out with your thoughts. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d already talked to Yoongi about serious things once. Because he seemed like someone who wouldn’t make fun of you or be condescending. He seemed like someone who could try and relate.

“Well, which one do you like more?” he asked after a second.

At first, the question took you by surprise, because no one had ever asked you anything like it. But you knew the answer without having to think. “Neither.”

“Why?”

Because they’re either fake or distorted beyond recognition. “I don’t know.”

The swing continued to move without you controlling it, and could feel his hooded gaze on you, both calculating and curious. “Why were you in the middle of the highway?”

“What?”

“The night we all met at the river. What were you doing?”

“I don’t have a death wish,” you said darkly as soon as you sensed the undertones in his voice. The same undertones everyone at Sky, including people who’d been your friends, had shown to you the previous year.

Yoongi didn’t argue with you. His swing wasn’t moving anymore, so he sat there patiently, hands still folded in his pockets. “Then what were you doing? And don’t say you don’t know.”

“I was thinking,” you answered finally.

His mouth quirked up slightly. “Only for you would something so normal actually become dangerous.”

The glance you cast at him was part affronted. “What does that mean?”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “It means don’t hate yourself because you think everyone around you does.”

You glanced at him a little surprised. “How straightforward.”

But it wasn’t quite exactly that. It wasn’t that you hated yourself in a pitying way, or that made you want sympathy from other people. It just felt like there was something like poison rooted in the back of your mind, the tiniest drop that was touching every other part of you. At least then you could tell yourself that there was a reason for everything bad that had come your way, even if it meant it was your own fault.

“But true. Not everyone hates you, Y/N.”

In the back of your mind, you realized it was one of the rare times he actually said your name. “You don’t?”

“I apologized to you, didn’t I?” he said as though it answered the question.

“But you never did? Not even before?”

He shrugged, as though the answer wasn’t as important to him as it was to you. “I didn’t know you enough to hate you. And neither does anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything at first, letting the creaking of the swings’ chains fill the empty space instead. “I thought you said you didn’t care. About any of this.”

He sighed, like you were a child who had too many questions that he didn’t want to deal with. “Back to this, are we?”

As you turned your head to look at him, you narrowed your eyes a little. “You know, you’re really good at diverting, too.”

While throwing a grin at you, he said, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

But you knew that him trying to divert from the topic wasn’t because it was a bore to him. You’d spent a lot of time pretending to care about things yourself. Somehow, you could tell the difference even now. “You do care,” you said again. “At least a little. Or you wouldn’t have been there at the river with the rest of us.” You wouldn’t have pushed me out of the way of that car.

“Believe what you want, princess,” Yoongi said with another eye roll.

This time, you chose to ignore the nickname, and instead, you grinned at him cheekily, pushing your swing further. “You know what? I’m going to get you to admit it.”

He scoffed lightheartedly, in a way that told you this was amusing to him, and looked at you still swinging. “Don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Some day,” you emphasized. “You’re going to admit that you care. That Min Yoongi has a heart after all, and it’s so big and capable of— wait, where are you going?"

“To find somewhere this conversation won’t follow me.”

As he got up from the swing and started walking out of the sand box, you were watching him only with the faintest incredulous expression. “You’re hilarious.”

chapter vi // chapter viii (coming soon)

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