#it seemed like the article was framing the teacher as wrong???

[rubberduckyrye]

.................................

Did a terf just like my fucking posts.

[sunfoxfic]

Okay, no, re: the last post I reblogged, I'm fucking annoyed so I went and found the article.

As far as I can tell, this is the original. And as annoyed as I am about the headline and the photo, the article isn't as obnoxious as it sounds - not for most of it, anyway.

The educators interviewed actually frame the change as positive. It lowers stress for students who can't read clocks very well when they're in exams, and otherwise lowers the chances of getting the time wrong when you're in a situation where small amounts of time can make a big difference.

Someone insinuated in the post I reblogged that schools are failing students by not teaching them to read clocks, and as I said in the post's tags, it's important to remember that people only retain skills when they practice those skills regularly. If schools teach students how to read clocks and have analog clocks in the classroom and students still aren't learning, then it might be because of absence of analog clocks at home.

Seriously - do you have an analog clock in your home? How many? How often do you consult it instead of your phone or your microwave? If you do have analog clocks, do you buy them with the intent of using them, or with the intent of decorating? Do you change the batteries regularly? Are you punctual about changing the time when it changes (if you have daylight savings)?

There is exactly one analog clock in my home. My mom hung it, and the batteries have been dead for years. It's set to 5:08ish.

And as I said in the tags of the post I reblogged, I am typically in favor of teaching people to do something the traditional way. As an example, I'm actually pretty massively in favor of retaining cursive education in schools, which seems pretty controversial in a lot of circles.

But to me, this issue - with analog clocks - is not an issue. It's a matter of technology becoming obsolete over time. It's not manufactured, like the removal of aux jacks from phones; clocks and watches are still available for purchase, and people just don't want them anymore.

Inasmuch as this is illustrative of a problem, it's that if we as a society want to teach skills, we need to provide parents the resources to reinforce those skills at home. Reading literacy is a great example of how schools can do everything to teach students a skill, but unless parents have the resources to reinforce those skills at home (money to buy books, time to read with their children) they won't learn.

Now, I do dislike the framing of the article, because at the very end it takes a pivot to talk about how students can struggle to hold pencils nowadays because of the fact that parents don't spend as much time with them drawing and writing and instead let them do those activities on screens where less hand-eye coordination is necessary. At best, this framing makes it seem as though that issue is as simple as teaching students to read clocks. At worst, this could actively be used to frame the evolution of technology as a bad thing.

Anyway. Read articles instead of reading their clickbait-y headlines seen in screenshots on social media.

[dumbestthingiveeverheard]

Dumbest Thing I've Ever Heard: 8/1/2023

Fifth Place: Asa Hutchinson

Despite being the only Republican running for President who I have any respect for, people need to face a rather important fact: Asa Hutchinson is not going to be President. Since the start of the 2024 race, it has been obvious that if Donald Trump entered he was going to be the nomination--and Trump has entered. This was demonstrated perfectly when Hutchinson was on CNN last night and we saw this graphic:

He couldn't even break half of one percent in any of the eight groups listed--seriously think about that.

Fourth Place: Laura Ingraham

Can we just admit that Fox News is a neo-Nazi network at this point? For fuck sake, last night brought us yet another example of a host pushing the horribly racist Great Replacement theory, with Ingraham saying:

Now, this is what Democrats have always wanted though, isn't it? An open border that would help usher in a new America. And this is what we're getting: Millions upon millions of illegals who fanned out across America with their free cell phones and dubious intentions.

I don't even know what to say about this outside of--well, this is the same thing Fox has been doing for years, and it seems like barley anybody, including the people whose job it is to monitor the right for things like this, barley notice it anymore. Media Matters barley took notice and from the looks of it no other media watchdog even mentioned it, it takes something especially offensive--like Greg's recent comments on the Holocaust--to even cause people to notice that Fox is engaging in the same rhetoric that actual fascists do.

Third Place: Steve Benen

MSNBC is easily the best out of the three cable news networks, but even they sometimes fall into the trap of not framing the story correctly. For example, Steve Benen's article on the website ran the headline "Dems slam Justice Alito’s latest claim as ‘stunningly wrong.’" However, this headline should make it a point to note that it's not merely the Democrats "slamming" Alito for saying Congress has no authority to regulate the Supreme Court, but it is them pointing out that what he said was, in fact, incorrect. This would be like claiming a teacher "slammed" a student who incorrectly answered a question on a test--except the student was also one of the nine most powerful people in the country.

Second Place: Michelle Goldberg

Her column "The Radicalization of the Young Right" falls into the typical liberal trap of having nostalgia for the terrible conservatives of the past because maybe they weren't as bad as those on the right today. The article sees her giving the benefit of the doubt to Nate Hochman, the DeSantis campaign staffer who was fired for putting fascist symbols into campaign ads, by writing:

Though the video’s imagery is clearly fascist — the sonnenrad, or sunwheel, is flanked by two rows of marching soldiers — Hochman has said that he didn’t know what the symbol meant. Given that he is Jewish, I’m inclined to believe that rather than being a covert Nazi, Hochman is simply a callow young man immersed in a milieu in which fascist idioms are so commonplace they can be picked up inadvertently. 

And honestly, who here hasn't accidentally put a fascist symbol into a video? (Or made their crossword puzzle look like a fascist symbol on the first day of a Jewish holiday?)

As Hochman clearly recognized, these days, young reactionaries find their inspiration not in the adolescent superman fantasies of Ayn Rand but in the nihilistic Joker energy of 4chan.

And how exactly are those two things different? Ayn Rand wrote stories about how everything was bad in mainstream society and those on the sidelines need to take over and get rid of all of those who disagree, and that's the motto of the modern right-wing. Of course, Ayn Rand was never a source of inspiration for reactionaries, who were primarily conservative, because Rand was not one--William Buckley, the person behind the post-World War Two conservative movement, even hated Ayn Rand and pushed her out of his new right.

Winner: John O'Connor

It's not everyday you see somebody attempt to defend Richard Nixon, but O'Connor did just that in his Townhall column "How Watergate Journalism Sowed the Seeds of Today’s Toxic Division." Even ignoring the silliness of the claim that Bob Woodward, a registered Republican, would do something like take down a sitting Republican President, and that The Washington Post would use Watergate as nothing more than an attempt to take down Nixon but wouldn't release most of the information on it until after the 1972 Presidential Election (George McGovern changing running mates was covered far more than Watergate during 1972) is nonsensical, but O'Connor is here to tell us what really happened:

But what was so patently false about the Washington Post Watergate journalism?  From the first days of the burglary arrests of June 17, 1972, the Post knew facts strongly showing that this had not been a White House campaign operation but, rather, was a small part of a widespread, long-lasting CIA program of surveilling prostitutes and their Johns.  Inveigling seeming White House approval from lower aides, the CIA hoped to gain a get out-of-jail-free card if later exposed.

And the fact that the organization which did this was called the Committee to Re-Elect the President is--what, a really bad coincidence? For those curious, O'Connor shows no evidence for this claim--instead he just spends the rest of the column insulting Mark Felt and modern journalism.

John O'Connor, you've said the dumbest thing I've ever heard.

[eviltothecore13]

I'm British and similarly my parents read to me, they also taught me the alphabet and "a goes ah, b goes buh" etc when I was like 3, and again they assumed I'd memorised books at first and then realised I was actually reading them.

When I started school, I got told off in front of the class for knowing how to read ANYTHING, my parents were called in and told "why did you teach them to read? you'll have ruined their ability to read properly now, you'll have done it wrong, only SCHOOLS can teach children anything!", and they refused to believe my parents when they said I hadn't been formally taught to read and had picked it up from being read to. I was then forbidden by the school from reading any books above the level I was "meant to be at" i.e. well below the level I was actually at, even though this led to me being insanely bored in class (and therefore "acting out", and therefore getting a reputation as a "bad kid", and therefore being blamed for all kinds of things that I didn't even do for the next few years and generally harassed and bullied by teachers and students until my parents finally took me out of school when I was 8 and homeschooled me.)

I never paid attention in a single school phonics lesson: I DO think kids should be taught about the sounds letters make, but teaching it in very rigid formal phonics lessons where they are ONLY allowed to read the Approved Phonics Books which were written with Teaching Phonics very very obviously taking priority over telling a good story, and when you have finished one phonics book your only option is to move onto the next phonics book, with the school timetable giving NO time to read anything else that might be more interesting, seems like a very good way to convince kids that reading is a horrific chore. Pretty much every kid I knew in school who was taught to read exclusively through that method, and didn't have many books at home or their parents reading more interesting things to them, didn't enjoy reading much and didn't pick up reading for fun even when we were older and got more access to the other books in the school library. Maybe they picked it up eventually, maybe they didn't, but they weren't spending their spare time reading for fun when they were 8 or so.

Meanwhile by the time I was that age I spent a lot of my spare time reading, children's books of course but they ranged from collections of short stories, Diana Wynne Jones, H*rry P*tter unfortunately, the Hobbit (I think I was more like 11 or 12 when I read LOTR)... and I could probably have read SOME of those books earlier, when I was 6 or so, except that 5/6-year-old me had a bit of difficulty moving from books being something I always finished in one sitting to longer books--because I was proud of always finishing the shorter books for younger children in one sitting, I thought that I was meant to finish every book that way, so it took me a year or so to warm up to the idea of reading books where that wasn't possible and during that time I wasn't reading books that I was technically capable of reading. Which wasn't directly related to my actual reading ABILITY. As for the homeschooling lessons I had from the age of 8 onwards...well, by that point we'd moved past "letters make these sounds" and onto "read a book and write a short report on it", comprehension exercises, and similar stuff.

By the time I was 13 I had read some Shakespeare, I'd read Oliver Twist and Great Expectations though I got incredibly bored with both of them, I think I read Les Miserables about that time as well, all for fun or in some cases because my parents found lists of "books everyone should read" but they always framed those as a suggestion and not as "assigned reading" that I was FORCED to do... and by the time I was 14 I had an A* in GCSE English Language (which included things like...reading a news article and spotting bias, comprehension on a short story, writing a short story, and writing a formal letter) and English Literature (writing essays on poems, The Tempest, and I can't remember which novel now)... so it doesn't seem like being exposed to books before the age of 6, or not having Formal Phonics Lessons In A Classroom Environment With Books Written Specifically For That Purpose (though when I couldn't read a word in a book my parents would definitely help me sound it out, so I'm pretty sure I learned all the same phonics stuff just through a less formal method), did me all that much damage.

(What did do some damage was people assuming that "has the reading age of an X-year-old at Y age" was the same as "should be expected to understand anything that an X-year-old would", or even just that "has read an adult-level book that covers this topic" meant I'd have an adult-level understanding of a topic, but that's another matter, and something that was mostly done by *accident*. My parents were very well-meaning but considering they at least once, by their own admission, forgot that I was *shorter* than them [I was 5], I suppose keeping track of my reading age vs my actual or mental age was a bit challenging for them. For anyone else interacting with a kid with a reading age above their actual age: please, please, don't assume that they are properly understanding everything they read. This is especially important with books covering difficult topics, and with older books that might contain bigoted language and views. I read some Sherlock Holmes short stories when I was 8 including The Five Orange Pips. I didn't learn until MUCH later that the KKK wasn't fictional--in fact, since I didn't know what a "negro" was, and knew nothing about the American Civil War, I didn't even understand that the story was about a racist hate group and not about a vaguely defined secret society of scary bad guys who did bad things because they were scary and bad--even though rereading as an adult it's pretty explicitly condemning them for being racist thugs, so it's not the story's fault at all. Though my parents still did a better job than my school teachers in that regard--when I encountered a racist slur in a book in school, the teacher outright lied and tried to pretend it was a kind of bird!)

my dad and I just finished listening to a fascinating (and really pretty alarming) podcast about American literacy education recently—Sold a Story by Emily Hanford—and it got me wondering what my peers’ experience was, so here's my first poll! This pertains to people who learned to read in the U.S. specifically, so even if one of the other options matches your experience, I'd politely ask you to refrain from picking one (presumably you guys have better school districts than we do anyway). 

(the most horrifying part out of the entire thing was the fact that dubbya was the one to realize something was wrong. even a broken clock, I guess...?)

[eureka-its-zico]

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.

[youkaigakkou-tl]

Warning: This is a nearly 2000 word long self indulgent essay about a whole lot of nothing. I also end up talking about Monogatari Series and Genshin for some reason. (If you’re scrolling through the tumblr search for those and see this, I’m sorry, posts leaving target audience and all that)

If you haven’t seen this Yoseito culture festival chapter or chapters 17 to 23 of Yoseito, I suggest you read those before this nonsense essay. It’s on like, mangadex or whatever.

The Yoseito culture festival chapter was released in the 2020 Feb GFantasy issue, along with Chapter 62 of the main story, which was about the Principal and Ranmaru going through Haruaki's culture festival maze. 

It is unnumbered, and simply referred to as "side story".

The Feb GFantasy issue would have been released around January 18 2020 (look up "cover dates" on wikipedia, very confusing, I also hate it), making it right before the release of Chapter 17, Feb 6 2020. 

That said, it felt wrong to number it 16.5, and I'm tempted to go for 23.5 instead. (As of writing this I'm still debating. I presume I'll have picked one of them by the time I post this.) 

This is due to the contents of the chapter, for one, it being about Hatanaka's school years, the focus of ch 17 to 23, the Izuna and Rintarou arc. 

The flashback of this chapter chronologically happens way after the flashback in the arc. The culture festival happens in September/October, and the arc happens over the span of about 3 days around the start of the school year, in April. 

By the way, in this chapter it says both "9 years ago" and "Mame (8 years old)", which can't both be true. Even in a world where the culture fes happens in November, after Mame's birthday, that would still make him 16 turning 17 in the year Yoseito happens. 

Anyway, the second reason is Miki Ibara's presence, as a teacher. 

This is probably the main reason. In chapter 21, a major focus is how she, a character we know and has previously never hinted at it, is a teacher. This is expressed in the framing, as well as Hatanaka's confusion. 

Compared to this chapter, where Ibara's appearance has much less emphasis on it. Like "oh yeah, she's here, it's no big deal." 

Why am I deliberating so much over such a small detail as the placement of a chapter? 

It's all about first impressions, I think. 

Indulge me on this tangent. The Monogatari Series is famous for having a super non-chronological watch/read order, and yet it makes sense, in a way. Plenty of essays have talked this to death. Going by the watch order, characters are shown at stages of development out of order, and their secrets and pasts are revealed out of order, all for the sake of thematic cohesiveness. And yet it works. 

Personally, I watched Kizu first before Bake, because I'm someone who can't watch/read something if I don't care about the protagonist, and Kizu seemed like the easiest way for me to start caring about Araragi. 

Because of that, I'll never know what it feels like to go into Bake blind, not knowing what the deal is with Araragi, with Hanekawa. 

I will never know a Bake episode 1 from the perspective of Senjougahara, distrusting of this guy who claims to "know a guy", and takes me to an abandoned building. My experience is permanently stained by my knowledge of the series, and you'd think first impressions matter less the more you've rewatched/reread something, but it's about the emotion of that first viewing. In fact, the more I rewatch Monogatari series (and rewatch I do, I've seen the whole thing front and back like 10 times by now) the further I get from a first time viewer, from the intended watch order, from episode 1 Senjougahara.

Is this the intent of showing Ibara in this chapter, I wonder, as a hook?

This "first impression" thing is something that hit me particularly hard with Genshin too. A part of the game that’s massively overlooked by video essays, by articles, is the environment design. Sure like “wow look at these period appropriate houses” okay cool I don’t care though. What I care about, and what I imagine every player has experienced, is walking through the world and being met with just, grand vistas.

One of the first scenes you're met with upon starting the game, right after scaling a wall, coming out from a gorge with walls on all sides, is that sprawling view, with the statue of the seven in the middle.

The way it funnels you to this scene, the way the cliff faces and trees frame the sight, the way the walk up to it is slightly angled upwards to hide the reveal until the last possible moment, it’s all so precise, so deliberate. It's a memory I'll keep with me for a long time, and yet no matter how many times I return to the same spot, retrace the same steps, it never feels as magical as that first time. 

A second example, and my all time favorite experience in a video game, would have to be the sight of Liyue. You're mostly on your own on the path from Mondstadt to Liyue, and while there is a path, you could approach the city from any number of angles. And yet there is reason to following a path in an open world game, because after climbing a giant flight of stairs, I got the view of the city of Liyue bathed in sunset colors, framed by the giant stone arch I'm under and the shadow it's casting on me.

(Wait, this post is turning into Monogatari and Genshin loveposting) 

This is the single moment that convinced me the environment artists are geniuses.

And yet, because of that, I've started wondering how many other such "framed" scenes have I missed, by haphazardly running around? I've tried looking, but this isn't something you can find by putting your mind to it. The surprise, being taken off guard, is a major part of it. You can't manufacture surprise, and you can't manufacture first impressions. 

I guess, the point I’m also trying to make is, it’s a lot like manga panelling and framing, I think. It’s not something as easy to parse as a beautiful character design or impressive double page spread, but it’s so incredibly important to a work.

To bring this back to Youkai Gakkou, I think a contributor to my complicated feelings is the fact that I read Yoseito out of order. It's the same order I translated it in, the latest Takahashi arc, then that Izuna and Rintarou arc, and lastly the first 15 chapters in order. (Well, actually, I read the first maybe 5 chapters back in 2019, but I don’t remember much from that reading)

My feelings about this chapter, which came out before the entire Izuna and Rintarou arc, are permanently stained by my knowledge of that arc, of its contents, that it exists. I've reread all of Yoseito and the main story far too many times to count, and I feel I'm drifting further from the essence of a first time reader, the essence of the author's intent. 

How terrible, to be from the future from the perspective of something in the past. 

I can imagine a couple reasons for why this chapter and everything in it is the way it is. 

First of all, it would be to tie it in to the main story chapter about the culture festival, which this chapter is placed right after in the magazine. 

The point of this chapter would be to get readers of the magazine interested in the spinoff, and go read that, which is hosted on a different place than the magazine itself. 

Izuna and Rintarou arc being right after the release of this chapter, has two possible reasons. 

First, it was planned, and while the memory of Hatanaka and Miki's school life is fresh in readers' minds, expand on it more. 

Second, the idea of Hatanaka and Miki's school life was fresh on the author's mind because of this chapter, and she wanted to expand on it more. 

It could well be a combination of both, or neither. 

All this is to say, am I egotistical to assert that I have a right to dictate the read order of new readers? By nature, putting this on a manga site necessitates a number being attached to it, a number that determines what a new reader will see before and after this. This, a chapter that exists outside the linear structure of the numbering system of the rest of the series. A chapter that exists outside the very platform the rest of its series is hosted on, in fact.

The nature of translation is exerting my own personal thoughts upon the work of someone else, and yet simply numbering it feels like an intrusion of the sanctity of the work? 

Is it hubris, that I presume the author to have gotten Mame's age wrong? To continue calling the spinoff “Yoseito” despite everything? To guess at the intent behind the author, behind a chapter of manga in a magazine? To analyse the framing, structure, characters of a work at all, to inflict my views upon others, forever staining their perception of it? 

To assume that I know a better read order than the order it was originally released in? 

Is it hubris, to translate a work? To presume that I am able to convey the same idea an author conveys, in a different language, to different people? 

I wonder if I should exert my will, the will of a person from the future who read it out of order, upon new readers, or if I should preserve the experience of an old reader who's been following this series for longer, who read every installment in order, as they came out.

…

The thrilling conclusion: I wrote everything above at like 3am, the hour I lay my soul most bare. Now that it’s the next day, I’m not even sure I want to post this open wound of an essay, but if you’re reading it that means I did.

The thrilling conclusion, the punchline, the number I’m choosing, the solution to this existential conundrum: 16.5

Because I showed this to my friend and she said:

So she will be bearing the burden of this choice! Like how our dear Haruaki in volume 11 did it,

Just hoist your burdens unto other people!

Also, remember the second line of this essay?

If you haven’t seen this Yoseito culture festival chapter or chapters 17 to 23 of Yoseito, I suggest you read those before this nonsense essay.

This is what the same friend had to say about it:

Anyway, I wonder how many people even read this or got everything I was trying to say. The venn diagram overlap between Youkaigakkou-Monogatari-Genshin can’t be that big. Or not, since those other two are pretty popular and if you’re here you like youkaigakkou. The nature of statistics and all that.

I guess, I’m sorry for posting this nearly 2000 word dissertation about something that doesn’t matter to anyone but me? I started this blog trying to be like, professional, and distant, like so many other cooler scanlators and translators are, but I can’t help being the combination of personality and interests that I am.

[mystic-sky]

This is just a request, but do you think you can write something short about gojo meeting his s/o who is a poc and how he’d react to her curly hair 🥺👉🏾👈🏾 the fandom is still pretty new so there’s not a lot of poc drabbles out there if any at all.

Here you go bby, I hope you enjoy 💕✨

Summary: An AU where you’re a sorcerest whose stationed in Japan due to the National Sorcerer Exchange Program I just made up lol. Even though it’s your first encounter Satoru is a big flirt, as usual✨💘

Word count: 1.7k

It was annoying, being one of the few special grade sorcerers based in Tokyo. Satoru Gojo often wished he could duplicate himself at least three or four times, just to reduce some of the workload stress he had. The older he got, the more he wished he wasn’t the strongest- and that’s a pretty surprising statement on his end.

He felt he couldn’t catch a break. Between special grade work, his students and now looking after Yuji Itadori, who hysterically swallowed a special grade object, he had a lot on his plate.

It was hardly a burden for him. He only wished he could be in multiple places at once. This way, he could make sure the higher ups wouldn’t mess with his students, who meant so much to him.

In sight of the increased special grade activity in Japan and several other countries, the first ever Sorcerer Exchange program was implemented by higher ups across the world. It would ensure that special and first grade sorcerers were evenly spread out and or placed in regions that needed special attention. Satoru wasn’t particularly fond of anything the higher ups did, but this idea wasn’t so bad.

“A government funded, international sorcerer exchange program,” Yaga informs Satoru, who sits across from him, idly drinking his tea.

“And how does this work exactly?” Satoru raises a brow at Yaga before dropping cubes of sugar into his cup, stirring loudly.

“For 6 month spans, high level sorcerers who applied to the exchange will be stationed in different countries to regulate curse activity.”

“Sounds like it pays more. Nanamin might like that.”

“It does, depending on your skill level.” Yaga sits back in his seat. “We’ve already received a few sorcerers from America, Africa, China, Russia-”

“All special grade?” Satoru interjects.

“Currently the exchange program only allows special and first grade sorcerers. Considering the high levels of cursed energy around the world this year, it would be best if we avoided any casualties by placing inexperienced sorcerers in the wrong places.”

“That reminds me. You’re prohibited from participating, considering we’re a red area. Until cursed activity improves here you won’t be allowed to participate.”

“Aww c’mon, you guys suck.” Satoru cocks his head back, sighing loudly.

He already traveled a lot for special grade missions but never for more than a few days. Now there was a whole six-month program and he wasn’t allowed to participate in it? Then again, he couldn’t leave Yuji here with the possibility of the higher ups trying to hurt him again. He promised himself he would protect all of his students.

“There are several meetings I must attend tomorrow and I’d like for you to be there. Don’t be late.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Satoru is already up and gripping the handle on the office door.

“I’ve also decided to assign a co-teacher to your first years, for your shorter stationed trips every now and then. She’s an extremely talented special grade from the exchange program. So you needn’t worry of a repeat of the detention center incident with Yuji.”

He had already swung the door open, towering above your body in the door frame. Your nose is barely touching his jacket, and hand almost touching his chest as you were attempting to knock. You take a step back, a bit startled.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I tried to knock,” you say, looking up at the blindfolded man in front of you. “I’m looking for Masamichi Yaga?”

Satoru is startled by your flawless Japanese, considering you’re clearly not of Japanese descent. He took note of your tan skin and big, curly hair that was pinned back in certain spots to display your face.

What a cutie.

“No, I’m Satoru Gojo. Principal Yaga’s the one sitting behind me.” He’s not entirely surprised by your appearance, considering he’s traveled all over the world to fight curses. “And you are?”

You almost think he’s flirting, considering how smooth the question was. Also, you’re now recognizing who he is, cheeks reddening a bit.

“I’m (Full Name). You’re the special grade I’m going to be subbing with for the first years! I’ve heard great things!” You politely bow a bit.

“I know.” His grin large and cocky as he steps out the way, allowing you to walk in. “No need to be so formal though.”

You’re slightly put off by his attitude, but principal Yaga interjects quickly.

“(Last Name), come in. I’ve been awaiting your arrival. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Yaga is on his feet now, bowing towards you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’m excited to work with you all.” You say as he motions you to sit and have some tea.

Satoru has found a reason to stay in the room, plopping down beside you and taking up his tea he had previously abandoned.

“Thanks for sending Ichiji to the airport to help with my belongings. I brought so much stuff, I hope it wasn’t too much for him.” You brain flashes back to Ichiji struggling to hold all of your luggage outside the baggage claim.

“Pffft, feel free to call on him whenever you want. That’s what he’s here for.” Satoru assures you, flashing you a toothy grin. You get the feeling that he probably made Ichiji’s job a living hell.

“I must say, Ms. (Last Name), your Japanese is remarkable. How did you become so fluent?” Yaga asks, filling your cup.

“I’m flattered. I taught myself what I could before attending (insert random ass college name in Japan) University. I’ve always admired Japanese culture so I studied it pretty hard. I can also speak (Native language, if you have one) and (two other languages of your choosing).”

“Wow, your Japanese is better than most locals.” Satoru chuckled. “And you’re pretty too. Lucky me.”

You shifted in place on the sofa. The most powerful sorcerer known to man was sitting beside you and he was complimenting you.

“Thank you,” you say loosely, picking up your teacup.

“Ahem,” Yaga interrupts, earning a tiny snort from Satoru.

“He hates it when I flirt.” Satoru whispers as he leans over towards you. Your face feels a bit hot, and you decide it’s from the steam of the tea in your face and not the handsome man leaning a bit too close to you. You set the cup down after the lightest sip.

“I hate to get down to business so soon Ms. (Last Name), but I’d like for you to get settled in as soon as possible. I’ve mapped out a few assignments for you this week. This is your first.” He slides the first report across the table.

“There have been several reports of abnormal cursed energy in Shinjuku City. It’s likely a special grade. I’d like for you to get to the bottom of it. It shouldn’t be a problem, considering your level of expertise. I’ve forwarded the documents to you as well.” The glint in his glasses makes you chuckle a bit. You flip through the report briefly.

“I skimmed this one on the flight. Whatever it is,” you begin, taking out your phone, “seems to be luring children. This corresponds with the rise in missing childrens’ cases I read about in Shinjuku.”

You place the article on your phone down on the table for principal Yaga to read. You liked to do your own research on locals news to see if curses had any sort of correspondence with a certain area’s events.

“You think a curse is kidnapping children?” Satoru suggests.

“It’s just a hunch. It’s nothing I haven’t encountered before.” You bite the nail on your thumb, realizing the inevitable.

“Unfortunately, if I’m correct, those children most likely aren’t alive.”

You stand up, firmly.

“I trust you’ll take care of it then,” Yaga hands your device towards you.

“Most definitely,” you look at your watch. “And I’ll be done before dinner.”

You offer the principal a smile before you slip on your trench coat, eager to take on your first mission.

“By all means, it can wait until the morning after you’ve rested.” Yaga persists.

“Nope! Not when children are potentially involved. I can’t risk it.” You straighten your clothes, and bow once more. “I’ll report back soon.”

“(Name) doesn’t let jet lag stop her from doing her job. What an admirable woman.” Satoru cooed.

“Well, Gojo-san, it was a pleasure meeting you.” You begin to wave but Satoru is on his feet, and right behind you, making you stumble back again.

“Oh no, I’m coming with you.” He grins. “I’ve gotta see what the most powerful special grade sorceress is capable of in person.”

While you had heard of your own nickname before, you hated when people called you that. You tried your best to be humble about it. There’s always new ways to improve your cursed technique, even if you don’t know how yet.

“So you do know who I am,” you shifted your stance, hands on your hips.

“I’ve heard a few things,” he says slyly. “But I’d like to see them first hand.”

“Hmph, alright then. I suppose you can show me around Shinjuku. It’s been a while since I’ve been there.” You flip your hair, making your way towards the door.

“And it’s your lucky day, I feel like showing off.” You say, peaking over your shoulder.

“Great, it’s a date.”

You stop dead in your tracks, just two steps out of Yaga’s office.

“What?”

“Even after four years of university in Japan? I said, it’s a date.”

The door shuts behind him, and his grin is even more smug.

The audacity.

“You’re not going on a date with me unless you ask me properly.” You roll your eyes, swaying down the steps. So this was Satoru Gojo.

“C’mon sweetheart, we’d be iconic as hell— the strongest man and the strongest woman? We’d be unstoppable.”

“I don’t even know what you look like underneath that thing.” You say, motioning towards his blindfold.

Oh , but you lied. You’d seen his Instagram.

He was a selfie fanatic. That and a cake fiend.

“Wanna see right now? Will it change your mind?” His voice low and steady behind you.

“I’ve got a curse to excorcise.” You roll your eyes, speeding up ahead of him. It didn’t help much considering his legs were so long.

“You know you wanna,” he bends down, voice deep in your ear.

“I’m not listening~

You’re far ahead of him now, attempting to hide the heat on your face and hearing deep chuckles echo behind you.

“Ah, this is going to be the best six months ever!” He laughs heartily.

A small smile crept on your lips.

Maybe it would be.

[ravennm84]

Don’t Mess with my Friends, Don’t Mess with my Family

TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains physical, verbal, emotional abuse and talk of rape; please be aware before proceeding. And know that if you are a victim and need help, don’t give up, there are people out there who can and want to help you.

This is a story told from Lila’s point of view, about how down hill her life has gone because of the choices she’s made. Lots of Lila salt to come!! Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Life had not been kind to Lila Rossi for many years now. It had all fallen apart during lycee, starting when she had pushed that bitch, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, down the stairs. It had been the first day at their new school and she hadn’t noticed the hall monitor, the teacher, or the security cameras. They had caught video and audio of Lila threatening the girl before giving her a hard push down the stairs. Before she could even say a single thing in her defense, the teacher had grabbed her by the arm and marched her down to the principal’s office to wait for her mother. No matter how many times she tried to lie, the witnesses and video proved that she was the one who hurt Maribrat.

Lila had been suspended for three weeks and later expelled at her hearing after evidence of her harassing the same girl during college had surfaced during the investigation by the Board of Governors. Lila’s mother, had been absolutely furious and had been struggling to find another lycee that would accept her daughter; but the assault, bullying, and forgery of her signature and multiple doctors’ notes were now on her permanent record, making it a struggle.

The next incident occurred two weeks after her expulsion, Hawkmoth had been defeated and unmasked as Gabriel Agreste. That meant no more akumas for her to try and destroy Marinette or Ladybug, no more being a Gabriel model, and no way to force Adrien into being her boyfriend. She had lost her ride to the top.

In fact, with his father out of his life, Adrien seemed to have grown a spine and did a tell-all on TVi News a few days later. He admitted how his father seemed to change after his mother “disappeared”, how he tried to do anything and everything to please him, but it was never enough. He talked about the long hours on photoshoots, which were against child labor laws, and the way his diet had been strictly monitored. How he’d considered it a large victory to finally go to school, but that freedom was constantly under threat by his father if anything went wrong.

Then he went into the first time something did go “wrong”, when he had borrowed his father’s book to look over it, only for it to be stolen. 

“You say ‘stolen’, do you know who did that?” Nadja Chamack asked him.

“Yes, I do. Her name is Lila Rossi and she has been the bane of my existence since the day I met her.”

Lila was speechless as she and her mother watched the news. She wanted to hide in her room but her mother kept her in her seat as they continued to watch Adrien vent his grievances about her.

“She stole the book from me and threw it away after she got what she wanted out of it. If my friend, Marinette, hadn’t seen her take the book in the library and then throw it in the trash, it might have ended up in a landfill somewhere. She then claimed to be the holder of the fox miraculous and Ladybug’s best friend. Only Ladybug, herself, showed up a couple minutes later because she had seen Lila’s fake interview on the Ladyblog. She told her to stop lying since it was dangerous and she hated liars. I can’t even be mad at Ladybug for calling her out, since she was right.

“After that, Lila practically became a stalker. She followed me everywhere, lied to people about how close we were, lied about one of my best friends, Marinette, to isolate her since she knew Lila was a liar, lied her way into my house and got Nathalie and my bodyguard in trouble, but that wasn’t even the worst of it. She started working with Gabriel to keep an eye on me.” Adrien practically spat his father’s name, looking absolutely hurt and disgusted as he continued on. “He made me start working with her while she kept trying to isolate me from my friends, telling him who the ‘bad influences’ were in my life, and telling everyone that we were in a relationship. I couldn’t even contradict her because she threatened me!”

“How did she threaten you?” Nadja asked, her voice full of concern when she saw Adrien shaking.

“Told me that if I didn’t do everything she said and agreed with her when she lied, she would get me pulled out of school again. I didn’t realize how bad it could be, but then she started tou-touching me and kissing me without my permission. When I told her to stop, she’d grab my arm and dig her nails in until I bled, I’ve still got scars from all the times she grabbed me too hard.”

Lila really wanted to be anywhere else but sitting beside her angry mother at this point. Everything Adrien was saying maybe true, but there was no actual proof. Those scars could have been caused my anyone and she had never written down any agreement with-

“The only thing I could do was get proof of what she was doing, so one of the times when Lila was forcing herself on me, I had a camera going in my dressing room. I even made sure to have the manager put up signs that the area was under video surveillance so it would stand up as evidence in court.”

Well, shit.

“With your permission, Adrien, may I play the recording.” Nadja asked him, her voice gentle and reassuring. Taking a breath, Adrien nodded while closing his eyes and covering his ears.

The recording showed Adrien getting his shoes on in his dressing room before standing quickly and backing away when the door opened. “What are you doing in here, Lila? I’m trying to get dressed.”

“I don’t mind, there’s nothing wrong with a girlfriend seeing a little more of her boyfriend,” Lila purred as she stepped into the frame.

Adrien took a step back. “We’re not dating, and I’m not comfortable with you being here. Now get out.”

Lila gulped, remembering this day. It hadn’t struck her as strange at the time why Adrien seemed to be talking back to her more than normal, and she had taken her anger out on him. Now it all made perfect sense…

The video showed Lila stomping over with a cruel grimace on her face before she roughly pushed him against the wall. She then proceeded to dig her nails into the soft parts of his arms. “I think you’ve come to the delusional conclusion that you actually have a choice in the matter, Adrien~,” her voice continued to purr, but the angle of the video showed a threatening gleam to her eyes. “Unless you do what I say, you can kiss everything good in your life goodbye. You’ll go back to being homeschooled; your little friend, Marinette will be expelled again and it will stick this time, I’ll even tell everyone that you tried to rape me and people will believe it because I’m a girl.”

Lila dug her nails in harder, causing Adrien to whimper before she leaned in to give him, what the audience saw as a forceful, sloppy kiss.

“Hurry up now, we don’t want to keep the photographer waiting.” Lila said in a sing-song voice before skipping out of the room.

Adrien took a few breaths before looking at the camera and stepping closer. Pulling up the sleeves of his shirt, the video clearly caught the nail marks that were already bleeding and forming bruises before the video stopped and returned to Adrien and Nadja. “That is only one of multiple incidences where Lila hurt or forced herself on me. I tried talking to my fa- to Gabriel  about what she was doing, but he only told me that Lila would be a ‘good match’ for me and that I should consider dating her. Now that he’s out of my life, I want everyone to know the kind of people both of them are. I refuse to let Lila Rossi have any more power over me. I’ve already filed police reports and a restraining order, given them the video recordings, and sworn statements. Even if it feels like I’m running away from my problems by doing this, I never want to see either of them ever again!”

The rest of the interview became background noise as Mrs. Rossi began screaming at her daughter for doing such despicable things, but was interrupted when the police came knocking on their door a few minutes later. Her mother ordered the police to get Lila out of her sight and that she would be waving whatever diplomatic immunity she may have.

That was eight years ago. Since that night; Lila had stood trial for her crimes against Marinette and Adrien, was found guilty, and had been deported back to Italy where she served seven years of a 10 year jail sentence. Now that she was out, all she could think of was the same thing that had been on her mind since that night, destroying Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste. First thing she did was look them up on the internet at the library, since she didn’t have a job, laptop, or smartphone anymore. 

Adrien was reported to be living a quiet life at an undisclosed location in France. He’d quit modelling, sold off his father’s company, and had graduated from a private lycee with his close friend, Marinette. Lila tried contacting her followers from college to discern his exact location, but many had changed their numbers. Those who hadn’t, hung up the moment they figured out she was calling and then blocked her number. Deciding to save finding Adrien for another day, Lila decided to focus on Marinette. That bitch was a lot easier to trace; and the more she read, the angrier she got. 

Marinette had become well known as a designer; becoming the go-to girl for musicians, movie stars, and the powerful elite. There were multiple articles on her clothes, how they were always praised and seen as the new wave of fashion. She had won countless awards and had founded her own fashion house two years earlier! Lila recognized one of the models as that quiet, goth freak, Juleka. That girl had been named the top female model three years in a row! Lila quickly decided that she would take the time to ruin that girl’s life as well, once she was done with Maribrat.

More research showed that Marinette also did charity work; including multiple high end donations, school sponsorships, and there was even a video clip of her standing with Rose and Prince Ali doing a ribbon cutting at a children’s hospital in Achu. The look of pure happiness on both of the women’s faces made Lila’s teeth grit so hard they almost cracked.

But the worst, the absolute worst thing she read was an article in which Marinette talked about balancing her career and family life. The bitch hadn’t married Adrien, it was a small comfort, but not much. Instead, she had married Luka Couffaine, Juleka’s older brother. He’d made a name for himself as an international rockstar, only rivaled by his father, Jagged Stone. Reading his list of popular songs, Lila’s anger swelled when she realized that she’d heard more than a few of those songs over the radio in prison. The two had a blissfully happy marriage, no scandals or anything that Lila could use against them. They even had a child! A little girl named Melody that looked to be three years old.

Lila had never hated Marinette Dupain-Cheng… Marinette Couffaine, more in her entire life! The bitch had the life that should have been Lila’s; rich, famous, respected, and with a handsome/rich husband. Even her brat daughter looked cute. SHE HATED IT!

She was five seconds away from screaming and punching out the computer screen when she saw the most recent article. Marinette and her family were coming to Milan, Italy next week for Fashion Week. She was going to be showing her autumn and winter lines and was scheduled to be one of the biggest shows of Fashion Week.

A cruel smile stretched across her lips as her mind was already forming a plan, but things would be different this time. She wasn’t going to stop with just hurting Marinette or ruining her reputation. No, this time, nothing would satisfy Lila other than that bitch’s life.

~oOo~

In the days leading up to Fashion Week, Lila had made her way to Milan and staked out the airport to wait for her prey to arrive. She watched the arrival of every limo that came, day and night, until the family arrived. When she saw them, she sneered at how sickly-sweet they appeared. Luka held his guitar case in one hand, Marinette held her purse on her opposite hand, and their daughter was giggling between them, holding both of their hands and wearing a small Ladybug backpack. The little girl giggled as her parents swung her into the air by her hands and they smiled down at her in adoration.

Lila easily followed them to their hotel, stacking it out as she learned their routine. Within three days, she saw how the three of them would have breakfast together every morning before Marinette would walk to the venue where her show would be held a couple blocks away, while Luka stayed with their daughter. Luka and Melody would go to the venue later in the day to pick her up, and then they would walk back to the hotel together. Deciding to make her move on the fourth day, Lila stole a decent sized kitchen knife from a restaurant and waited half way down the second block during the morning.

Sure enough, Marinette came strolling down the sidewalk, seemingly without a care in the world. However, there was a slight difference today, her daughter was holding Marinette’s hand as she sang one of her daddy’s songs. Lila barely pondered for a second if she should hold off on killing Marinette until the little girl wasn’t around, but immediately disregarded the thought. If nothing else, she could kidnap the girl while leaving the bitch with just enough life to hear her daughter screaming for mommy. That would be even better!

So, brandishing her knife, Lila jumped away from the the building she’d been leaning against to kill her hated enemy and get revenge for ruining everyt-

The next thing Lila knew, was waking up to an EKG machine beeping to her right, her left arm handcuffed to the bed, and her entire body hurt. Her right arm and right leg were both in casts and she could feel a large bandage on her head. She would find out later, when speaking to her court appointed attorney, exactly what had happened to her. And it wasn’t because he told her, oh no, it had all been caught on another damn surveillance camera.

Lila had jumped from her spot with the knife, only for Marinette to push her daughter behind her, grab Lila’s wrist on the third swipe, and break her elbow over her knee to force her to drop the knife. When Lila had continued to attack her; Marinette had kicked her in the side of the knee, dislocating her kneecap, and then punched her in the face so hard that she’d flown backwards and was knocked unconscious when her head hit the street. There were also dozens of witnesses to the attack, all claiming that Lila had a mad look in her eyes and that Marinette had been fighting like a mama bear protecting her cub. 

The lawyer then told her that he would defend her to the best of his ability, but that her case didn’t look good. She had violated her parole, violated the restraining order, and was being charged with stalking and two counts of first-degree attempted murder. 

Days later, while still handcuffed to her bed in the hospital, nearly every news channel was showing Fashion Week. And who had the biggest show with the most coverage? Maribrat, that’s who! The critics couldn’t get enough of her fashion lines or the recent attack on her and her daughter. 

To Lila’s never ending frustration, Marinette stayed calm and demure the entire time as her daughter cuddled her side and Luka kept a supportive arm around her shoulder. “I’ll admit, the attack happened so fast, all I could do was react. I just kept thinking that this person had a weapon and might hurt my baby, so I attacked and didn’t stop until she was down. It wasn’t until she was unconscious that I recognized her as Lila Rossi, a girl from my past that had done a lot to try and hurt me and my friends. Last I knew, she was in jail and I had a restraining order filed against her. This time, I have a team of lawyers at my disposal and I’m going to make sure that she’ll never be able to even try to hurt my family or me ever again.”

Just like that, sales for Marinette’s brand skyrocketed, with critics describing her as a strong woman designing clothes to empower people around the world. 

Lila lost her case, the lawyer had attepmted to argue that it was never her intention to hurt the child, but no one believed it. She was forced to finish her previous sentence, and had a life sentence added on top of that. And because she had broken her parole to stalk and try to kill Marinette Couffaine, she was denied the possibility of parole ever again. 

Taglist:

@animegirlweeb  @iamablinkmarvelarmy

@karokatten  @abrx2002

@delightfulcookiesrecipespizza  @unmaskedagain

@insomniac-nerd-posts-things

[kaitycole]

Love One: the love that looks right

Summary: Ushijima has been your neighbor and best friend for most of your life, so it's no surprise that you two end up being each other's first relationship. But can a relationship that's label as perfect from the beginning, that's seen as being 'The One', can it last?

Parings: Ushijima x Reader

Word Count: 4916

Warnings: Fluff? Light angst.

Rating: 16+

A/N: This series is based on an article that talks about how in live, most of us experience three types of love. I’ll link the article in the series master post for anyone who wants to read it!

2000 – 6 years old

“Toshi! Toshi!” You ran down the steps in front of your house, skipping across the yard and into the neighboring yard, continuing to shout out of the young boy. You found him, watering can in hand, inspecting some plant whose name you can’t remember even though he’s told you several times.

A smirk appeared as you slowed your pace, creeping up behind him before you jumped onto his back, yelling his name a bit too loudly and too close to his ear. He gasped, water spilled everywhere as the can fell, and before he could balance his footing, you fell off his back, landing directly on his plant.

“Oops, sorry Toshi.” You took the hand that he offered, fixed your eyes on the tips of your shoes, tears pooled in your eyes. “It was an accident. Promise.”

He didn’t say anything, gentle hands tried to get the plant to stand, but the broken stem caused it to just fall back onto the soil. His face remained stoic and you couldn’t help but feel terrible, waiting for him to get mad at you. But he didn’t, he just stared at the broken plant, small hands tightly gripped the watering can handle.

He finally looked over at you, tears fell down your cheeks as you stood there, trembling.

He looked around until bright yellow and blue caught your eye, walking to the other side of the yard he picked up the volleyball, turning towards you. “Let’s play.”

A huge smile tugged at your lips before you eagerly agreed, running over towards him, this time just throwing your arms around him. Even though you do most of the talking and he’s usually just going along with one of your various demands, Wakatoshi always seemed to know how to make you feel better. After all, you had both promised to be best friends forever.

*                      * 2010– 16 years old

You let out a sigh, tugging at the purple tie around your neck before glancing out the window. For some reason that day just won’t end, each minute creeping by at a snail-pace, but the blur of green catches your eye. You watch at Ushijima walks through the courtyard, carrying some large box for a teacher who seems to be repeatedly thanking him and you can’t help but smile.

The Ushijimas have been in your life since before you were even born, both of your dads had attended Shiratorizawa Academy back in the day and never really lost contact, even when Utsui moved overseas. Unlike Ushijima, you have a younger brother who’s five years younger than you, but most days the two of you would be found together, usually with either him suggesting volleyball or him just dragging his feet to follow after whatever you wanted to do.

The bell finally rings, signaling the lunch break and you eagerly pack up your books before grabbing your bag and heading out to the courtyard. At first you were worried about school, wondering how you’d be able to fit in, but you ended up going to the same schools with Ushijima and even if you’d only get a small head nod, you still knew he was there. The downside was the amounts of classmates that would try to use you to get close to him, those confessing their crushes for him to you in hopes you’d spread it along with a good word. Not to mention the lack of confessions you’d receive due to the intimidating aura that surrounded Ushijima and the well-known fact you two were close.

“Y/N!” Your best friend, Ren, smiles as she waves you over to your usual table. Ren is one of the only girls who hadn’t tried to get you to talk them up to Ushijima, her sight is set on Yamagata Hayato.

“You okay? You look tired.” Tensei asks, sitting across from you, unscrewing the bottle of juice in his hand.

“The day just feels like it’s dragging for some reason.” You let out a small yawn, excusing yourself as you start to eat the lunch you packed.

“Are you—” Ren starts before she’s interrupted, a random second year coming up to your table.

“Hey, L/N-san,” she starts, “is Ushijima seeing anyone?”

You want to roll your eyes, to let out an agitated sigh and tell her to just leave, but you don’t because it’s not entirely her fault that you get asked this frequently. You couldn’t blame her, he was easy on the eyes, but it didn’t stop part of you from getting a tad bit jealous.

“He’s actually in a committed relationship with Mizuna.” Tensei says, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Or was it Misaka?” Ren teasingly add, watching the second year cross her arms as she storms off.

“You two are trouble.” You laugh, taking a bit of the sandwich you brought, “what are you gonna do when she figures out they are sporting brands?”

“I doubt it. She’ll probably spend the rest of the term trying to figure out which year and class they are in.”

You just shake your head, completely entertained by that idea, mentally noting to use that next time someone asked you about Ushijima’s relationship status. Ren and Tensei are talking about something, but your focus shifts to Ushijima as you see him and Tendou walking through the courtyard, missing the smirk that your two friends share.

“Y/N,” you snap your attention to Ren, “speaking of Ushijima, when are you two going to date?”

It feels like the wind has been knocked out of you, but when you try to breathe in, it’s an icy sensation like winter air. The topic has come up before, several times in fact, but why did this time feel different? You feel your cheeks heat up when Ushijima makes eye contact, he throws up a hand, the closest anyone gets to a wave from him.

“You guys would make a good couple.” Tensei adds, getting an encouraging nod from Ren.

“We’re just friends.” You wave them both off, hoping they’d let it go.

Ren shrugs, “I don’t know. He looks at you differently than everyone else.”

You feel your heart start to thump against your chest, the heat from your cheeks rising to your ears and all you can hear is your racing heart. Did he? Was there a chance that maybe he felt the same way you had? It didn’t take a genius to see that he’s handsome or that even if he’s not the brightest academically, he makes up for it with his athletics.

It never bothered you when you had to help him study, in fact you preferred it because the little crease he got between his eyebrows when he was determined to get something, it was one of your favorite sights. You just never bothered to voice those feelings, hoping that maybe it would help things hurt less when he started dating someone else.

** “Y/N~”

“Tendou!” You jump up from the spot you’ve been sitting outside the gym, wrapping the middle blocker into a hug.

“Have you been out here the whole time? It’s cold, Y/N!”

You give him a sheepish smile, “I forgot my jacket and was waiting for Toshi.”

Tendou shakes his head before tightening his hug around you, he’s warm and you try to soak up the heat. “Ushijima, give me your jacket.” “You have yours on, why do you need mine?” “Just hand it here.” Tendou leans his head backwards to see Ushijima, “please~”

Unfazed, the wing spiker slips out of his jacket, handing it over. Tendou takes it and drapes it over your shoulders, it practically swallows your smaller frame.

“Thanks,” you mumble, basking in the warmth the oversized jacket brings you, your nose burying into the collar as you take in Wakatoshi’s scent. Your eyes widen when you realize what you’re doing, the heat you felt at lunch covering your face again.

“Y/N?” The tall olive-brown haired boy calls out to you and you slowly peak around Tendou, who has a mischievous grin on his face.

“Hey there, Toshi!” You grip the strap of your bag a bit tighter.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming, I’d have given you my jacket before practice.” There’s a flicker of concern in his eyes as he walks closer to you.

“I was fine, really.” You smile up at him before Tendou announces his departure leaving just the two of you. It’s not an uncommon situation, you grew up together but for some reason ever since lunch, just the topic of Ushijima leaves you a mess. Ren’s comment from lunch running through your mind repeatedly.

He looks at you differently than everyone else.

“Ren said we should date.” You tell him, laughing as you recall the conversation. The walk to your dorms is rather peaceful, the two of you exchanging highlights of your day, er well more of you talking about everything that happened while Ushijima listens.

“Okay.”

“Hm?”

“Let’s date then.” Ushijima says matter-of-factly, before he leaves you standing in front of your dorm, dazed and confused, as he heads towards his.

** Your eyes are closed, sleep still weighing them down as you sling your bag over your shoulder, opening the door of your room to head out. But you stop abruptly when you feel yourself run into something, or rather someone and looking up confirms it’s Toshi.

“Uh—” You’re at a loss for what to say, this wasn’t something that happened…ever. Sure, you’d both would sometimes hang out in each other’s rooms, but he never just showed up to yours first thing in the morning.

“Good morning, Y/N.” His voice is his usual even tone which confuses you even more because Ushijima didn’t do anything without a reason, everything had purpose.

“Toshi?” He raises an eyebrow at your question, “don’t take this the wrong way, but uhm, why are you here?”

“Tendou said people in relationships do things like walking to classes and such together. Should I not have come?”

For the first time in 10 years, Ushijima looks unsure and even a bit nervous which is new to you. He’s always put together on the court and at school that it’s almost refreshing to know this was as nerve-wracking for him as it is you.

“I like that you came.” You smile up to him, closing your door before you both begin walking down the hallway. The warmth his hand brings yours causes your heart to thump against your ribs, his larger hand embracing yours. “Tendou tell you about that too?” “No, I figured this out on my own.” He clears his throat, looking away from you but slow enough for you to catch the faint blush under his eyes.

** A month had passed since you and Toshi started dating before you had been able to go home and tell both sets of parents. You felt that a phone call would’ve sufficed, if you were honest, Toshi’s mom scared you a bit, but he persuaded you that in person was better.

The first half of the dinner is awkward, the atmosphere feels heavy around you as you engage in simple small talk about your studies and clubs, luckily for you Toshi had lots to say about volleyball and took over the conversation.

“Anything new in your lives?” Toshi’s mom gave you a look and you could’ve swore that she already knew.

“Actually, Y/N and I are dating.” Toshi’s tone is flat and even, throwing you off on how he just continues eating after dropping such a bomb. It wasn’t lost on you that his family still has traditional views and part of you wonders if you’re good enough to fill the spot at his side. A comforting hand is placed on your thigh, as if he’s read your mind and you smile to yourself.

“That’s wonderful news.” His mother smiles, turning to yours before they start discussing officially announcing the relationship (whatever that meant) and how it was about time the two of you got together. Listening to them going on and on about things made a lot of your worries fade away, it was a relief that they both were so onboard with the relationship.

*                      * 2011 – 17 years old

It’s been a year since you started dating Ushijima and it’s been a lot different that you thought it would be, not that you thought about it that much. And while things didn’t seem to change all that much, they changed completely. You weren’t just two friends walking to classes, but a couple. You weren’t just watching his matches like a childhood friend, but as a supportive partner.

When you had thought of dating, of being in a relationship, there was always the anticipation of getting to know your partner, but with Ushijima, you don’t get that. With Ushijima, it’s just seeing what you’re always known within a different light, but somehow that makes you feel like he’s ‘The One’ because how romantic is it to fall in love with the one who has been by your side for as long as you can remember? Even with the deep level of comfort you two share, your face still heats up when he reaches down to grab your hand, when he leans to kiss you goodnight and even when someone refers to him as your boyfriend.

*                      * “SHIIIIRATORIZAWA!!”

The beatings of drums and cheers of support fill the gymnasium, your voice getting hoarse from chanting as loudly as you can. For as long as you can remember, you attended Toshi’s volleyball games and somewhere during one of the games you found yourself truly loving the sport. Nothing really changed now that you were dating, other than the fact you seemed your swell up with even more pride when he hit spike or made a service ace and you were also seen sporting one of his spare athletic jackets with a simple purple shirt.

There was just something special about seeing the person you love doing something they’re so passionate about that make it impossible to not smile the whole time you’re watching them.

“You two are the cutest couple!”

“Oh, thank you.” Even after a year, you still weren’t used to people commenting on your relationship, mostly because no other relationship was talked about as much as yours.

“Talk about a perfect match!”

Another classmate seems to appear out of nowhere, adding the other comments, “I’m so jealous!”

You try to drown out their conversation, not wanting to hear about their surface deep comments, but you can’t. Standing up you look at the court one more time, Ushijima clearly in his element, a few points away from taking not just the set, but the match. Then, for the first time since you started attending his matches, you left the game early.

** “So, Y/N, when’s the wedding?” Ren jokes, getting a glare from Tensei who wants to get back to the focus of their gathering: studying for their upcoming math exam.

“What?” There’s a lot more panic in your voice that you intended and you can’t help but feel your face burn with embarrassment. You grab your math textbook, trying to hide your face before either of them sees, but of course they do.

“You and Toshi, are you planning to get married out of high school? Or waiting until after college?”

“Clearly Y/N wants to get back to studying. You remember, the whole reason we are here?” Tensei side eyes Ren before shaking his head. The two start to bicker back and forth, arguing about if breaks are really needed during studying or if they just cause unnecessary distractions that derail the whole point.

Your thoughts have you far from their debate and more so on what Ren asked. Marriage, it wasn’t like you didn’t think about it happening…eventually. But lately the whole concept, even the word alone has you on edge.

Back when you first started dating, you two were quick to share the news with your families and while you had a feeling they assumed this would happen eventually, they still seemed thrilled. Part of you could barely contain your happiness that your relationship had been accepted so quickly, knowing from movies and books you’ve read, not all relationships get family support. Another part of you was filled with a sinking feeling, a fear that eventually as your relationship grew and matured, the expectations from your families would increase, and they were doing just that.

Just a few weeks ago, you heard both of your mothers talking about it between themselves, seemingly making plans without any consideration of you or Toshi’s feelings. After that it left you wondering about your future and how your plans would fit into the heavy expectations the Ushijimas seemed to already have. Remembering the almost pitying laugh Toshi’s mother had given when you mentioned going to college and how she was quick to remind you that someone had to be the stay-at-home parent with children and Toshi couldn’t since he had a promising future in volleyball.

** “Happy birthday, Y/N!” Ren, Tensei and Tendou shout at you, crossing the courtyard to get closer to the table you were sitting at. Embarrassment crept across your skin, feeling like everyone’s eyes were suddenly on you, something you hated.

“Thanks.” You give them all a tight ‘please never do that again’ smile which just makes them laugh.

“Y/N.”

The voice causes you to quickly turn and you see Toshi standing there, a slightly obnoxiously large bouquet in his hand and you wish you hadn’t felt so embarrassed over your friends because now you definitely knew people were looking.

It had been a while since you and Toshi had gotten together for more than ten minutes, his schedule had gotten busier, you couldn’t remember when he was ever this busy before. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he remembered your birthday and gotten you something.

“Toshi!” You throw your arms around him, smiling even more when he tells you happy birthday, loud  enough for just you to hear.

Comments about how cute you two were, how great a relationship you had start to fill the courtyard and while you usually get sick of hearing it, it reminded you that you didn’t have much to complain about. Sure, Toshi’s schedule seemed to get busier every day, but he still carved time out for you and that’s what really mattered.

*                      * 2012 – 18 years old

You look up and towards the door when you hear the bell ring, hoping that it’s Toshi. The two of you agreed to meet up at a café before seeing a movie, he was running a bit late because he had a meeting with Coach Washijō. A deep sigh leaves you as you realize that it’s not Toshi and instead you are still alone.

DING!

Toshi: Coach Washijō wants me to meet with some alumni players. (12:31PM) Toshi: I can’t make it today. (12:32PM)

You should’ve seen it coming, honestly. He has always been a force in the volleyball circuit, but with graduation coming up and professional scouters about, he seems to be in even more demand. You are proud of him, proud of all he’s accomplished, but as his partner, you felt like you were just getting the short end of the stick most of the time.

** “I’m all yours today, I promise.” Toshi says, standing at your room door, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

You can’t help but smile, you’re still upset about yesterday, but you know he’s trying and that the small amount of free time he actually gets, he spends with you. You step aside and let him in and he takes a seat in your desk chair, even after years of being friends and almost two years of dating, he refuses to just sit on your bed. He really could be a huge dork sometimes.

“Did you have something in mind?” You wrap your blanket back around you, originally planning to spend your free Sunday catching up on shows you missed.

“Anything you want to do, I owe you.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you jump up, rushing into the bathroom. “Face masks!”

He nods, “whatever you want.”

** You look over at your calendar that’s hanging on the wall, today’s date is circled and you feel a little silly for being so upset. Today marks two years with Toshi, but for what felt like the hundredth time this month, you were in your room alone. He had sent flowers and a small gift, of course, he never missed sending something on anniversaries, birthdays or other holidays, but coming second to volleyball was getting old.

The part of you that is petty wants to think Coach Washijō is doing it on purpose, but what did you think would happen when dating one of the top 3 aces in Japan? Still, you just thought this time could be different. Then you were hit with an overwhelming feeling that this would be your life. At least your life if you ended up staying with Toshi. He would go pro, you knew that and with his family’s traditional ways, you’d end up staying at home with children your mothers had envisioned for you, not bothering to ask either of you what you wanted.

Waiting, that’s what their future held for you, just waiting for him to come home. And just like yesterday and today, every day would just feel the same.

Did you want that?

There was nothing wrong with those who wanted that life, but it wasn’t ever what you thought yours would be. You wanted to go to a good university, to join the career field you dreamed of and definitely saw traveling in that future.

What’s worse that the feeling of a bleak future is knowing if you told Toshi, he’d do anything he could to fix it. And what’s worse that that is the feeling that while you love him so much you could feel it deep in your bones, a future without him was more desirable that one with him.

How could a relationship that seemed so perfect to everyone around you, feel so wrong to those in it?

** “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

Finals were just around the corner and Toshi had thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to visit home, not to mention being at home meant less volleyball obligations and more time he could spend with you.

“I don’t think things are going to work out with Toshi.”

The room stilled, though you’re sure if it had been a movie scene, the glass vase in her hands would’ve shattered as it hit the ground.

Yesterday when you two got home, both your parents had been acting strange, so happy that it was like they were floating. It wasn’t until later in the night when you met up with Toshi for a walk that he told you his mother mentioned you two getting engaged, dropping not subtle hints of a post-graduation proposal.

The ground fell from beneath you, all the air in your lungs being sucked out, the only thing saving you was how Toshi told you that he didn’t agree with her plans. That you two should be the ones discussing it, not your parents and that his focus on volleyball blurred out things like proposals and weddings. Even with those words, you still knew how hard it would be for family-oriented Wakatoshi to go against his family; the thought of how different he would be if his dad had raised him crossed your mind.

“Whatever the problem is, I’m sure you can fix it.”

You snort, how cliché for her to blame you. “I just don’t know if our futures line up. We both want such different lives.’

She finally turns to face you, her jaw clenched, “nonsense, you two are perfect together.”

Perfect.

That word has long been on a list of words you hate, one you are tired of hearing, sick of being called that when you know it was far from true. By definition, it means having desirable qualities or characteristic, something that was as good as it could possibly. If you tried hard enough to see your relationship from an outsider’s perspective, maybe after you squint hard enough you could see it. Could understand why perfect was used, how great things looked. You had a boyfriend who would try to move the sun for you if you asked, one who did his best to be there for you and see every chance he got, on the surface level you really had nothing to complain about.

But on the inside, you were two ships passing in opposite directions. Maybe it was true that some relationships are just too good to be true, that some people are better as just friends, that some friendships can’t last when changed to a relationship.

** “Y/N~”

You look over to see Tendou practically skipping towards you, a smile on his face while he wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaning to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Tendou!”

“What’s wrong?” He lets go of, taking the empty seat beside you. You had been sitting on a bench, hoping some fresh air could clear your head. It was just a few days until graduation and the looming expectations of both families started weighing down more, plus Toshi was even more busy with volleyball since word got out that he had gotten a few offers already, so you didn’t have anyone to really talk to about it.

“Nothing. Just tired.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know Tendou doesn’t believe you. He had an uncanny ability to pick up on things like that.

“Tell me, Y/N.”

That’s all it took for you to finally break, the mix of the gently words and his soft tone. He listened as you tell him about Toshi’s traditional family (most of which he already knows) and the over the top expectations both your families seem to have.

How a future together seems more like a nightmare than a dream come true but not because you don’t love him, maybe because you love him too much. Love him so much that you don’t want him pushed into some life just or being with you. And by the time you finish up by telling him how it’s been hurting you to hold everything in, not wanting to burden Toshi, you are in tears.

** “Can we talk, Y/N?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. Graduation had been a week ago and since coming home, your parents (namely mother) had been discussing wedding plans and wondering just when Toshi would pop the questions, so it’s no surprise when they light up when seeing it’s him at the door.

He takes your hand, gently squeezing when he feels you flinch, the notion instantly calming you. He motions for you to sit on a bench in the nearby park that you’ve been walking towards, but when he sighs, you start to worry.

“I spoke to Tendou a few days ago and he helped me understand a few things.” “Toshi, I—”

He holds up a hand, “please let me talk first.”

You nod, noting a small crack in his voice as he squats in front of you, taking your hands.

“My life has always been volleyball, it’s what I’m good at and I know that being a boyfriend isn’t something I’m good at. But even with that, you still carried our relationship even when you stopped being happy.” He keeps his eyes focused on your hands, leaving you to look at the top of his head. “Now It’s time for me to take the burden from you and I’m okay with being the bad guy if it means that you’ll smile like you used to. So, Y/N, will you break up with me?”

You burst into laughter and tear, knowing that he must’ve been given that words from Tendou and practiced them ‘because it didn’t sound like him. “Our parents are going to be disappointed.” He shrugs, “I’ll blame volleyball.”

You wipe the tears from your cheeks, the sleeve of your sweater gets a bit damp. “It hurts because I love you so much.”

He grabs your wrists, tugging you into his chest, the calming scent of his body wash soothes you. “I love you too.”

“Is it selfish to ask if we can still be friends?” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, fresh tears pricking your eyes. How was it fair that two people who love each other so deeply, just weren’t meant to be? You didn’t have a breakup to compare this one too, but you didn’t think anything else could ever hurt this much.

“I believe someone declared we’d be friends forever. I might have been a bad boyfriend, but I think I’m a good friend.”

Smiling, you look at him, he wipes the tears away with his thumb, his hand cupping your cheek. “I don’t think you were a bad boyfriend, just a busy one.” “You were a perfect girlfriend.” He stands up, pulling you to your feet as well.

“I can still come to your games, right? Having an ex wouldn’t be too weird?” “No. I’ll always need my number one fan.”

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

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[axiang-n-chengling-s-dads]

11. Extraordinary You: Theories Part 1

Self Awareness

An obvious question that any viewer would have while watching the show, is, how and why do the characters gain self-awareness?

Though I do have a theory for this, there is good reason why the characters never find out the answer to the question: like everything else, there is immense amount of uncertainty regarding the very nature of self-awareness-- is it a boon, or another trick of the writer’s? Even so, the fact that there is no fail-proof formula for it means that a character once losing self-awareness could never get it again, or a character never gains it in the first place, leading to tragedies like the end of ‘Trumpet Creeper’.

Keeping that in mind, in the last scene of Extraordinary you, we see some philosophy by Heidegger, so I thought it would be worth to read up a bit on his beliefs to see if Extraordinary You borrowed anything from it.

And I found some parts that help explain my initial theory, from the article linked here (https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/heidegger/).

This gives us a way of understanding statements such as “Dasein is ontically distinguished by the fact that, in its very Being, that Being is an issue for it” (Being and Time 4: 32). Mulhall, who tends to pursue this way of characterizing Dasein, develops the idea by explaining that while inanimate objects merely persist through time and while plants and non-human animals have their lives determined entirely by the demands of survival and reproduction, human beings lead their lives (Mulhall 2005, 15).

Here, Dasein, seems a lot like gaining self-awarness, a state where one is aware of one’s Being, as an individual and in reference to the rest of the world. If we move forward with this connection and learn about Heidegger’s different modes(?) of being, then we see this para.

Thus when I am absorbed in trouble-free typing, the computer and the role that it plays in my academic activity are transparent aspects of my experience(readiness-to-hand). But if the computer crashes, I become aware of it as an entity with which I was working in the practical context of my office, in order to write an encyclopedia entry aimed towards presenting an introduction to Heidegger's philosophy.(un-readiness-to-hand) And I become aware of the fact that my behaviour is being organized for the sake of my being an academic. So disturbances have the effect of exposing totalities of involvements and, therefore, worlds.

In other words, (Readiness-to-hand) is sort of like being un-self-aware-- the characters play their roles fluidly, without seeing the mechanism or trope that they’re playing out, or their role in the bigger scheme of the story.

(Un-readiness-to-hand) then, is them becoming self-aware, i.e. becoming aware of the tropes and roles they play in the story, or essentially how they’re used as a tool in it’s making.

In the first state, i.e. Readiness-to-hand, while one is still somewhat aware of their Daesin, it is not completely. Even so the capability of being fully aware still persists. It simply needs an event to occur to bring it to the forefront.

Similarly, I believe that the character’s self awareness already exists within them, but they need something to go wrong, or malfunction as it is, for them to become self-aware.

What event must that be then?

I propose that this is made of two factors. One, considering that in our theory, Self-awareness is something already present in each character, something needs to occur, on the stage or otherwise, that goes against the personality or decisions of the Self-aware self.

Two, there needs to be questioning of their current Un-aware state, which can only really be done by other already self-aware people. I will elaborate on this later.

As we’ve seen, Jinmichi Fairy, Dan Oh and Haru all were self-aware in the previous book, and are the first ones to gain awareness in ‘Secret’ too. Taking the first aspect of our theory, all three had untimely tragedies in ‘Trumpet Creeper’, i.e. events that can be the trigger that causes ‘malfunctioning’ in their stage-selves; and seemingly have their self-awareness therefore passed on to ‘Secret’.

When Soo Hyang is added to the book towards the end, she is also immediately self-aware, having her own untimely death in the previous comic as her trigger event. A character like Baek Kyung, though he seemed to be gaining awareness towards the end of ‘Trumpet Creeper’, did not, and therefore does not gain self-awareness quickly like the four others in ‘Secret’.

On the other hand, for character’s like Lee Do Hwa, Baek Kyung and Yeo Ju Da, who did not carry any self-awareness from previous books, and therefore had to become self-aware for the first time, our theory still holds out.

Lee Do Hwa starts to become self-aware when his stage-self only loves Ju Da passively, where as his shadow-self starts to want to actively pursue her and change his role as the second-male-lead. For him, Ju Da is what triggers the ‘malfunctioning event’. Additionally, he is also in a lot of contact with Dan Oh, who is already self-aware, and keep making him question his un-aware-self (“You will not remember once the stage changes.” etc).

Baek Kyung also gains self-awareness when his stage-self keeps on ditching and mistreating Dan Oh, while his shadow-self starts to have feelings for her, running back towards her once the stage is over. Dan Oh is the reason for his stage-self to ‘malfunction’ then. He is also repeatedly told things like “It doesn’t matter you’ll forget anyway.” “It was just the stage, you’re just a character.” etc. It is a combination of this that finally renders him fully self-aware.

With Ju Da it is also the same. Initially her self-awareness starts to blossom when she wants to stop being bullied and take revenge on her bullies, but it is accelerated when Lee Do Hwa starts to make her question her stage-self, and is finally fully self-aware when she falls for Do Hwa instead of Nam Joo. For her, Do Hwa causes the ‘malfunctioning’ of her stage-self.

Characters like Nam Joo, Sae-Mi and others show signs of becoming self-aware once or twice, but never really become so, because the event that would trigger it never occurs. Ju Da returns his feelings eventually, his rift with Lee Do Hwa does not last too long, and more importantly, no one really tries to make him question his role or his stage-self.

Similarly, Sae-Mi shows signs of becoming self-aware when Baek Kyung shows her that she’s always framed as a villain, and when she begins to fall for Soo Chul even when she’s still supposed to be in love with Nam Joo. But ultimately the writer does pair her up with Soo Chul, and she is called-out for her bullying by Ju Da, so even when her becoming self-aware seems like a promising aspect it never really occurs.

Especially from the fact that self-awareness is carried from one comic world to another, and that once lost self-awarness can be regained again, I am certain that, like Dasein, self-awareness is an inherent quality in all characters, it only needs trigger events for it to be brought to the surface.

An Extra: Symbolism

This is a small extra section where I thought it would be fun to point out a scene where I saw some other-than-obvious symbolism. While there is a lot of it in the content that teacher’s speak in the background, it is comparatively more obvious and easier to spot, so I’ve left that out.

Here is the scene:

As you can see, this scene is the height-measuring scene that Baek Kyung and Dan Oh have, after Dan Oh loses her self-awareness. In this scene, especially in the last shots of it, the two are framed so that Dan Oh does not have a shadow while Baek Kyung does. As the scene finishes, the camera focuses first on Dan Oh’s shadow-less self and then on Baek Kyung’s shadow.

Here the symbolism is simply that while Baek Kyung is fully self-aware and is in his ‘Shadow’ self, Dan Oh is not her real self, having lost her self-awareness. Not being her true ‘Shadow’ self, she is framed without a shadow in this scene.

[qqueenofhades]

Some additional points about that grave find in Finland that you may or may not find interesting. And that may or may not be dated, because I studied history 20 years ago. That said, I'm not sure if 1000 years ago is firmly middle-ages in this context? At least back in my uni days, they told us that here middle ages got going slowly during 1100's and 1200's when Sweden started converting the population to Christianity and the prehistorical era gradually ended. Maybe they teach differently now.

More about the grave. I don't know why The Guardian would talk about Vikings in this context at all, because the erstwhile population of current day Finland is not considered to have been Vikings, afaik. They were similarly warlike, and the graves from that era have a lot of weapons, and they certainly encountered Vikings, but they never participated in the raiding, and isn't that what makes Vikings Vikings? Their language and religion was also different. But anyway. I don't mean to correct you because the larger point stands. When I saw the headline in a Finnish news paper about that grave and traditional gender roles my first thought was, well, maybe the gender roles hadn't become traditional then yet. Just some additional context, which could be illuminating or could be totally dated.

I did the stupid thing and sent you asks about the Suontaka burial before reading the Cambridge article about it: I'm reading it now, and my comments seem fairly useless. Feel free to ignore with extreme prejudice. We're in agreement on the guardian article.

Aha, well, we all make mistakes from time to time, so no worries! However, since you do touch on a few points that I would like to discuss, I'm going to go ahead and answer, whether for you or anyone else who might find it useful. (It's the teacher in me, I'm afraid.)

First, I have to say that I had a definite "eeegh" moment at the idea that the eleventh/twelfth century isn't "medieval" in Finland just because it (at least prior to the Baltic/Northern crusades, if we're considering them to begin with the Wendish Crusade in 1147) wasn't yet fully Christianized. Scholars pretty universally accept "medieval history" as referring to the time period between 500--1500 CE (the fall of the Western Roman Empire to the Renaissance). These, of course, are horribly Eurocentric frames of reference, but there you have it. Any event or culture taking place within that span of dates, no matter where in the world it is or what its socio-political circumstances may be, is medieval. We have to call out the pernicious equivalence of "medieval" with "Western Christian European," since that seems to be the underlying assumption. This is also what makes people mistakenly think that the medieval world (which, y'know, was just as big as it is now) is exclusively about white Christian Europe, and that no other global regions have a medieval history. Either way, the eleventh/twelfth century is actually closer to the end of the medieval era than it is to the start. I'm certainly not suggesting that you were consciously implying this; I have no trouble believing that that is indeed how they taught it twenty years ago. But yeah, the idea that still-largely-pagan eleventh-century Finland couldn't be "medieval" until it's Christian is definitely not the case as understood now.

The idea that anywhere in eleventh-century Europe is still "prehistorical" in any sense of the word is likewise a little baffling, tbh. Once more, it associates "history" only with "Christianity," and that would get quite a bit of pushback if included in a paper on medieval studies today. That is what also annoys me deeply when I see people describing the pre-Columbian Americas as "prehistoric" (read: pre-white-people-historic). If the chief marker of "history" is "written history," sure, there is a very narrow pedagogical argument to be made that these societies don't have narratives or chronicles in the standard historiographical sense. But also, uh, European colonialism and conquest destroyed vast swathes of records that we have never been able to read, understand, or even access, because they're just not there anymore. There is ample evidence that the ancient (and I do mean ANCIENT, up to thousands of years BCE) and early-to-late-medieval Mesoamerican societies had complex systems of writing, astronomy, calendar-keeping, and other history-recording practices, right up until 1492. There are something like four (FOUR) pre-Columbian Mayan scrolls still in existence, out of probably thousands and thousands, because the Spanish destroyed the rest. So "prehistoric," unless you're literally referring to the Stone Age, is never a politically neutral word or a word to use uncritically...

...and speaking of the Stone Age, we actually have histories for that too! Or rather (iirc) the Ice Age, because for example, Aboriginal Australians transmit their history orally and require each new generation to memorize it, word for word, exactly as taught to them. Some of these histories stretch back over ten thousand years, which means that we actually have first-person accounts of life during the end of the Ice Age, and scientists recently discovered that these traditional narratives accurately reflected the archaeological and geological record of Australia during the time period in question. (Indigenous people know what they're talking about and should be listened to, example number 85,000.) Of course, the Western-white-supremacist model of historiography calls these just "legends" or "myths" or "folktales" rather than history, because I guess not writing it down in a chronicle as a monk in a European Christian monastery in the year 1015 or whatever doesn't qualify as history for some people. (I don't have strong opinions about this or anything. Welp.)

I likewise don't know why the Guardian article brought up the Vikings, aside from the fact that they were quoting someone who explicitly used the Vikings in a hypothetical scenario about "traditional gender roles." This person expressed surprise that an intersex person living in a medieval Scandinavian society could rise to a high social role, by citing the widespread belief that "Vikings" were all dedicated to being very manly at all times and nobody with feminine qualities/feminine-coded social power could rule over them. I don't know if this was just a bad phrasing (plus, it obviously overlooks the often-egalitarian nature of medieval Scandinavian societies and plays into the favored white supremacist stereotype of the Vikings as some Master Aryan Race Where Men Were Men, etc) or what, but yeah, it's wrong across the board. Viking is the name of an occupation, not an ethnicity. It comes from the word wicing, meaning "seafarer" or "sea raider," and referred only to those guys who went out on their longships and stole a lot of stuff from their neighbors, most notably in the eighth to eleventh centuries. Their families back at home were part of the exact same society and benefited from those raids, but strictly speaking, they weren't vikings. We use the word "Viking" to describe any member of a medieval Scandinavian society, but it's similar to describing everyone living in the eighteenth-century Caribbean, no matter who they were or their social status or ethnic background, as "pirates," which is obviously inaccurate.

As you correctly point out, the Finns aren't considered quite the same as the Norwegians, Danes, and Swedes (as anyone can tell from looking at their written language; N/D/S are mutually intelligible and derive from the same linguistic family, while Finnish is COMPLETELY different and comes from an altogether separate branch of the tree) and therefore it's even more baffling that the person quoted in the Guardian article would cite them as an example of a "Viking" society. Likewise as you note, the whole phrase "traditional gender roles" is intensely problematic in most contexts, and especially here. It assumes that modern Western ideals of sex and gender have been static and unchanging throughout history, and that means that we tend to read our own (biased) assumptions onto the historical record and then get surprised when, shock of shock, they don't fit. The burial at Suontaka seems to have been of a biologically intersex person (i.e. someone with Klinefelter syndrome), but this is also the case when it comes to people assigned the usual male or female at birth, without any complicating genetic conditions. I'm working on a book review for an entire edited volume that discusses the intense gender-fluidity and proto-transgenderism in some medieval saints' lives, and how obviously the fact that they have been held up as a holy example, while explicitly subverting the so-called Traditional Gender Roles of the Middle Ages, means that it was (and is) a lot more complicated than shallow stereotypes and Bad Medievalism would have it.

Anyway, this is long enough (especially considering that you graciously offered me the chance to ignore it) so I think we'll stop here for now. But yes, there you have it. :)

[vladdocs]

Dracula's life from birth to 7 years by Lyzhina Svetlana Sergeevna (Лыжина Светлана Сергеевна) originally in Russian. http://samlib.ru/l/lyzhina_s_s/dracula_7.shtml In this article I have tried to collect ALL the information somehow related to the early childhood of Dracula, and the story of childhood always begins with the story of the birth, so that's where we'll start. When Dracula was born. The year of Dracula's birth is reported differently by different books. Some say 1429 and some say 1431, but all of these statements are based on the same facts. _ _ _ _ _ Fact 1 - Dracula had an older brother, about whom we know that in 1442 he was 13-14 years old. This is reported in Jean de Wavrin's "Anciennes Chroniques d'Angleterre". Fact 2 - Dracula first ascended the throne in November 1448 and began to rule without the help of a regent, which means that Dracula was already 17 years old at the time. _ _ _ _ _ These two facts are the basis of all the assumptions we find in various books, so it is not difficult to guess where the numbers 1429 and 1431 come from. If the elder brother of Dracula in 1442 was 13-14 years old, it turns out that this brother was born around 1428, which means that Dracula himself couldn't have been born before 1429. At the same time, if you count Dracula's age from the time of his first reign, that is, subtract 17 from 1448, you get 1431. By the way, that is why the birth of Dracula is often associated with another fact - the entry of Dracula's father into the Order of St. George (Order of the Dragon). It is presumed that the accession took place no later than January 1431, since in a letter dated February 8, 1431, drawn up in Nuremberg, Dracula's father, among other things, states that he enjoyed the support of Emperor Sigismund of Luxembourg, who was the head of the Order. House in Sighisoara It is common knowledge that Dracula's early childhood was spent in the Transylvanian town of Sighisoara, where our hero lived with his father, mother and older brother until the fall of 1436, which means that at the time of his departure from the "land of childhood" Dracula was no more than 7.5 years old. How many memories could Dracula have of Sighisoara? About as many as each of us remembers of kindergarten and the first school bell. Is it a lot or not - you decide. The house where Dracula lived is located on the corner of Zhestianshchikov Street and Museum Square. Zhestvenshchikov Street is a historical name, and Museum Square was a street in the Middle Ages and, of course, was called differently. The most likely name is Blacksmith's, so you can imagine the sounds that little Dracula heard from morning to night. The mint in the house. It is also known that Dracula's father set up a sort of mint in the family nest. Special people came to the house and were engaged in minting gold money - the very coins with dragons, thanks to which Dracula's father got his nickname. The minting process and the coins themselves looked like this: https://img-fotki.yandex.ru/.../440.../0_acb55_83f50b94_orig Of course, the presence of unauthorized people in the house and the constant hammering of the stamp caused some inconvenience to the family, but it was impossible to move the "production" to another place, because only Dracula's father had the right to mint money, and in order to comply with legal formalities, he had to do it in his own territory. Frescoes in the house Unfortunately, we don't know exactly what Dracula's house looked like in the 15th century. What we see now is the 17th century, but many researchers believe that the house still has something that existed in the 15th century - a mural on the wall of the second floor. I read on the official website of House of Dracula that there were originally 4 people in the mural, although only 3 images have survived. It is believed that the "man in a turban" and the woman next to them are Dracula's parents, and to the right and left of them the artist depicted guests invited to the feast. That the fresco depicts four people, not three, is more than

likely, but the assumption that next to the owners of the house are depicted guests, I personally think wrong, because Dracula's parents, ordering a painting, would have preferred to see there not guests, but really close people, i.e. relatives. I think the mural was a family portrait, not just a sketch from life. The gray-bearded man on the right side of the fresco looks a lot like Dracula's maternal grandfather, the Moldovan sovereign Alexandru the Good. If I am right, the portrait on the opposite side, which is not preserved, belonged to the Romanian sovereign Mircea the Old, Dracula's paternal grandfather. https://img-fotki.yandex.ru/.../4400.../0_acb56_233d42a_orig By the way, there are other frescoes on the second floor, or rather remnants of frescoes. In some places we can see floral ornaments, and on the upper slopes of the windows we can see figures of some people, depicted waist-length and placed in round frames. Most likely, the frescoes on the slopes date from the 16th century, as the numbers 1576 are visible on one of them. The only thing we can say for sure is that these frescoes depict noble people. Near one of the images there is a figure of a two-headed eagle. Next to the other image is the inscription "archi..." (Latin: archiepiscopus - archbishop). In a third image, a woman's hairstyle and a richly patterned dress are clearly visible. https://img-fotki.yandex.ru/.../440.../0_acb57_354e446a_orig Services in the house Dracula's family was Orthodox, and the population of Sighisoara in the 15th century consisted almost entirely of Catholics, since at that time Transylvania did not belong to Romania, but to Hungary, a traditionally Catholic country. There were no Orthodox churches in Sighisoara at all, and this posed a serious problem for Dracula's father and mother. Dracula's parents were supposed to live a church life, which is possible only with the participation of a priest, who can take confession, baptize the newborn, etc. Dracula's parents lived in Hungary for many years - first at the court of Sigismund of Luxembourg, and then in Transylvania - and all this time were away from Orthodox parishes. For example, it is known that in the Middle Ages there were no Orthodox churches in the Hungarian capital. Such a temple appeared only at the end of the 15th century in the neighboring city - in Pest - and was a wooden church built by the Orthodox Serbian settlers. How did Dracula's parents deal with the issue of confession and baptism of their children? After all, someone had to baptize the newborn Dracula as well! Most likely, the parents, being well-to-do people, hired a certain Orthodox priest, who conducted home services, took confessions, etc. By the way, little Dracula, living in Sighisoara, is unlikely to have confessed, because in Orthodoxy all children under 7 years are considered absolutely sinless, and Dracula at the time of his move from Sighisoara to Romania was (recall) no more than 7.5 years. Dracula's first steps in comprehension of sciences If you believe the textbooks on the history of pedagogy, the basic principles of education since the Middle Ages have not changed so much. In the Middle Ages, as now, science was taught from the age of 7, but Dracula probably began learning a little earlier. The Dracula researcher M. Kazaku suggests that Dracula and his elder brother had teachers in common, as the difference in the age of the brothers was insignificant - two years maximum. If further to follow this logic, then it turns out that the older brother Dracula began to learn reading at age 7 as it should be, and Dracula was put in school at 6 or even 5 - just for the company, so that the younger brother did not hang around while the older one was sitting in class. All the textbooks on the history of pedagogy say that in the Middle Ages the teachers of the "book sciences" were from the church milieu. Even if it was to teach a child who was not prepared for a spiritual career, he was still taught by churchmen, because they were the most literate and educated class. By the way,

this is another argument in favor of the assumption that while Dracula's family was wandering around Catholic lands, an Orthodox priest lived there all the time. Dracula's parents needed this priest also because someone had to teach their children to read and write. In any case, we can say with absolute certainty that the literacy learned by the young Dracula was Slavic. He simply could not have been taught Romanian literacy, because it did not exist in the 15th century. If we look at the history of the Romanian language (old Romanian to be exact) we see that it was an oral language until the 16th century. The earliest known letter written in Romanian goes back to 1521 and is in Cyrillic script, because most of the official documents in Romania at the time were written in Slavonic and the liturgies were held in the same language. Exactly in Slavonic, not in Latin, as many people think for some reason! This gives us reason to believe that the little Dracula, as a child of an Orthodox family, studied first of all the Slavic letters, and not the Latin. It turns out that already at an early age Dracula knew three languages: - Romanian, because it was spoken in the family; - Hungarian, because the family lived in Hungarian lands; - Slavonic, because it was the starting point for literacy. It seems incredible that a child at such an early age could be taught a Slavic language - essentially a foreign language - but there is nothing surprising in all this. At a later time in the so-called "classical gymnasiums" young children had to learn two foreign languages at once - Greek and Latin - but no child died or went mad from this teaching. So could not the little Dracula learn the Slavic alphabet? That is, perhaps, all there is to it, and of Dracula's further maturing one can

[hanniiesuckle17]

Anything But Normal

A/n: this was such cute Idea I hope I did it justice. It’s been a while since I’ve written a comedy piece. There are probably spelling errors I’ll go back and fix them later. also I love Jon Favreau as Happy so I had to put him in. (i swear he is one of my favorite actors) btw this is not edited (i’ll come back and do that eventually)

Requested by: @tokiokiedokie​

Warnings: Cussing,(come on it's me guys), partial nudity.

Member: Han Jisung

Summary: When Y/n’s best friend goes through a drastic change he starts keeping secrets. Secrets that include him being New York’s one and only friendly neighborhood spiderman. Shit hits the fan when his new secret life is exposed and she gets dragged into it.

Genre: Spiderman!au, romance, comedy, friends to lovers!au, little bit of angst

There are only three things that truly matter in life. Good friends, good pizza, and a good story. So far I had two of those at the moment. Sadly I was lacking a good story. Our school newspaper had been quite dry despite my efforts to discover new and intriguing stories. 

“Stop sulking and eat.” My best friend said, shoving a piece of cheese pizza in my face. Jisung laughed when I bit the end before returning to look at my laptop. We were at our usual pizza place seated next to the window with the big bright red neon sign lighting up our faces. The sun set over the New York skyline making the moment almost perfect. If only I was writing an exciting article. Instead, I was putting together a riveting look into the school’s menu changes. 

“You know I invited you because I thought you were going to be good company.”

“Please. You invited me because Felix was busy with a stupid Lego project and no one else will eat pizza with you.”

“Whatever.”

Jisung and I weren’t the most popular people in our senior class. To be frank, Jisung was my only friend. So going out and eating pizza every other day at ten o’clock at night was often the highlight of my week. Having had enough of the lack of attention Jisung slammed my laptop closed and removed it from the already small table. “Hey! I didn’t save!” 

“That’s what Google Docs is for.”

He was right. I needed to stop working. I had been slaving over that stupid and boring article all week. He didn’t have to be such an ass though. “You are such a teenager.” I scoffed, watching him shovel yet another slice of pizza down his throat. “Oh, and you are such an adult!” The mocking tone of his voice threatened a laugh. 

“I swear you are God’s punishment for enjoying sex. Everyone’s libido just disappears when you are around.”

“Hey don’t ruin our date. I was considering sleeping with you tonight.”

He laughed when I threatened to smack him. It had been like this for as long as I could remember. Just me and Jisung. My parents had been friends with his before they passed away in a car accident. Now Jisung lived with his Aunt May and his Uncle Ben a few blocks away from me. 

I remember after the crash I would wake to a tap on my window to see an eight year old Jisung on my fire escape. Not wanting to bother his Aunt with his nightmares, Jisung had run all the way to my apartment and climbed the fire escape to my room on the sixth floor. I would open the window and let him sleep in my bed. My eight year old brain used to think maybe my bed was like force field keeping away the bad dreams about his parents.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” Jisung asked bringing me out of my thoughts. 

“Mr. Finoli asked me to take pictures of the science field trip so I’m going with you guys. Why?” A look of realization crossed Jisung’s face making him freeze. “Did you forget to ask May to sign your permission slip?”

“I forgot to ask May to sign my-...you can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?”

Laughing I pulled a ten out of my wallet and left it on the table. “Come on, you’ve gotta get your slip signed, dummy.” “I can pay, it’s no problem.” He said watching me pack up my stuff. “Nah, you can get the next one.” Bellies full of pizza, we left Tony’s Pizzeria and headed in the direction of Jisung’s apartment, his arm draped over my shoulder and talking my ear off about some random experiment they had done in Physics that day. 

The next day I woke up bright and early to meet the class at the New York Museum of Science. Camera bag on my shoulder and camera around my neck I stood outside the museum with about ten other students and two teachers. My tired eyes brightened when I saw Jisung step out from the subway, May right behind him.

I laughed as he wiped a kiss from his cheek before waving goodbye to her. His dyed blonde hair was messy and blew slightly in the wind. Jisung waved when he saw me and jogged over. His hoodie lazily hung off his shoulder and his shirt and jeans were somewhat wrinkled. “Don’t you look nice?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his appearance. 

“Shut up.”

He laughed throwing an arm around my shoulder, leading me closer to the group. Soon the tour began and I busied myself with taking photos of the group for the paper and yearbook. Jisung followed the group, only half-listening to the teacher as he looked at other random exhibits. 

At around one in the afternoon, the group moved outside to have lunch on the steps. I sat off to the side with Jisung, his legs spread out across the stairs and his elbow rested on the step above us. It was refreshing to be next to him talking about absolutely nothing. Even if he stole my food. 

Eventually, we were all called back to resume the tour. I angled a shot of two students looking at a bug exhibit, but just as I took the picture Jisung jumped in the frame throwing up a peace sign and crossing his eyes. “Hey! Stop hitting me!” He yelled as I smacked his shoulder over and over again. “Look I’m just innocently observing the exhibit. Leave me alone crazy woman!”

Sighing, I pushed him away and resumed taking photos. As the group was moving onto the next room I noticed Jisung was missing. It wasn’t unlike him to wander off into a room he wasn’t supposed to just to look at probably like some DNA model or some other weird science shit. I could never get over the fact Jisung was super into science when he gave zero fucks about his other classes. 

“Jisung?”

“Ji?”

“Ji, we are moving on,” I said looking for him. My eyes landed on a semi-open door marked ‘Lab’. He wouldn’t. He did. Just as I started to walk towards the door, he exited with a goofy smile on his face. “Y/n! Dude, they have all these cool spiders and test tubes in there it was so cool! One of them bit me!” Like an excited three-year-old, he showed me his wrist where he indeed had a red spider bite. 

“Ooooooh! Take a picture!” 

He shoved my camera into my hands and held up his arm pointing to the spider bite making the dopiest smile. Knowing he wouldn’t shut up until I complied, I took the picture. 

“Let’s catch up with the group,” I said taking his hand and dragging him back to the class. When we reached the group a teacher looked over at us his brows furrowing. “Excuse me, Miss L/n, is your friend okay?” He pointed to Jisung, a concerned expression on his face.

“Jisung? There are certainly things wrong with him but he’s oka-”

My words stopped when I turned to look at my best friend next to me. “Ji- Oh my god! Ji are you okay?” His face had obviously paled and he looked dizzy. A thin layer of sweat lay on his forehead. 

“Hell yeah. I’m doing fine, baby.” His voice sounded drowsy.

“Miss L/n he is not alright. Does he have anyone who can come get him.” The teacher said pulling out his phone. I shook my head. May worked in the day and his Uncle Ben was on a business trip. “No, they are working.” 

He sighed and turned to me. Jisung was clearly getting worse by the second and was wobbling a little. “What about you? Can you take him home?” Jisung laughed and wrapped his arms around me loosely. “Fuck yeah, I’d her take me home.” 

“I have a test in my last period.”

“I’ll write you a pass and send it to your teacher. Take him home please.”

Nodding he typed something on his phone and returned to the group who had started to move once again. “Okay Ji, let’s get you back to May’s.” Slowly we started moving to the exit. Before we made it to the doors, Jisung practically turned green. He pushed away from me and burst towards the nearest restroom. 

“Jisung!” 

Ignoring the looks and yells I followed Jisung into the restroom and looked for the stall he was in. “Hey, lady get out of here!” A man standing at the urinal screamed. 

“Oh please. Get over yourself.”

“Ji?”

Following the coughing and gagging sounds, I pushed the final stall door open. Jisung sat on the floor his mop of blonde hair hanging over the toilet. I crouched next to him and rubbed his back gently. “Oh god, I hate puking.”

“Jisung everyone hates puking.”

“Yeah well.....your face likes puking.”

“Nice comeback.”

Feeling too terrible to respond, he just threw up the contents of his stomach again. When he seemed able to stand the two of us made our way outside and down the subway. Jisung leaned most of his weight on me as I slid my metro pass through the scanner. How I managed to get him through the turnstile and onto the metro I have no clue. Thankfully there was once last seat free for Jisung to sit down in. 

“Y/n, I don’t feel good.” 

“I know,” I said softly as he rested his head against my stomach. The train turned sharply making me hold onto the strap, not wanting to fall into Jisung. Soft whines and groans came from him every now and then. This was the worst I had ever seen Jisung. 

I listened to the stations being called out as I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping that would calm him down a little. We were only four stops away but more people were getting on the train. Jisung looked up at me a sick expression on his face. It changed when he looked at the passengers boarding the car. 

“Here, Ma’am. You can take my seat.”

“Thank you so much, young man.” An older woman said taking his seat as he got up. “Jisung, you feel terrible. Are you okay to stand?” He shrugged latching onto the strap next to mine, his face paling again. “I’ll be fine, it’s only four stops.”

Jisung’s eyes started to droop as the train started up again. His body began to act heavier than it was so he resorted to leaning on me and nestling his head between my neck and shoulder. I did my best to make sure he didn’t fall over.

“You two are very cute together.” The old lady said with a smile.

“Oh- we aren’t--” 

“You better hold onto a good man like that, sweetie. Handsome and kind. Those are hard to come by.”

Before I could respond we turned again, and I had to keep Jisung from falling in this poor nice old lady’s lap. I felt his skin burning against mine. Could this train not go any faster. Soon enough our stop came. I said bye to the old woman and helped Jisung get off the train and up the subway stairs. 

“Come on, Ji. We are almost there and we both know I cannot carry your ass.” 

Eventually, I made it up the stairs of his apartment building to the fourth floor and managed to drag him to his door. “Jisung, where’s your key?” Trying not to hurt his head I propped him up on the door frame. He laughed when I started searching through his pockets.  

“Y/n if you wanted to cop a feel just ask. That tickles.” 

“Jisung where are your fucking keys?” 

“Back pocket.” He said drowsily. I sighed and reached behind him. My hands searched through his jean pockets for the cold metal keys. “Having fun back there, because I’m sure enjoying it.” 

I suppressed the urge to punch him in the stomach out of fear he would vomit all over me. Finally finding his keys, I unlocked the door and threw my stuff inside, before lugging him in as well. Jisung leaned on the couch while I put my stuff on the table.

“Y/n it’s burning up in here.” 

“Jisung, you just have a temperature.”

“It burns like fucking hell! It’s too hot!”

Before I could stop him Jisung was shedding layers like a snake. He tossed his shirt somewhere in the small living room. He was sweating like crazy, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Ji, come on let’s get you in the shower.” I started running a cold shower for him before rushing back to the living room to call May. It would only be a couple hours until she got home, but I should still let her know what’s going on.

While Jisung was in the shower, I grabbed some medicine from the cabinet. I had absolutely no fucking idea how to treat a spider bite. Antibiotics? Hearing the shower turn off I knocked before entering. Jisung had a towel wrapped around his waist and was leaning his head against the wall. “Y/n...”

“I’m right here, Jisung.” Cautiously I led him to his room and watched him collapse onto his double bed. Rummaging through his drawers I found some mostly clean sweatpants. “Ji, do you even do laundry?” 

“Y/n, I feel a little too fucking sick to do chores now.”

“I know. I know.” He slipped on the sweatpants and let me dry his hair. I wrapped his arms, covering the bite so it wouldn’t get more infected then it already probably was. Jisung’s temperature flipped like crazy. One minute he was burning up and the next he was freezing. 

A sigh of relief left my chest when I heard May call out in the apartment. “Y/n thank you so much for taking care of him.” She gave me a short hug before running to go get more meds. She would know better than I would, being an ER nurse. “Ji, do you want me to stay? I can call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night.” He slowly shook his head.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“I can stay really-”

“Y/n, I’ll be fine. You can go home.” 

He gave me a half-assed smile and squeezed my hand. There was no arguing with Jisung sick or not so I gathered my things and left. May promised to keep me updated and I told her I would have my phone next to me.

The walk back to my apartment seemed longer than usual. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jisung. When I got home, my parents greeted me before telling me they would be working tonight. My dad was a cop and my mom worked at a hospital downtown. It was rare they were even home, to begin with. Exhausted from taking care of Jisung, I rolled onto my bed and fell asleep.

This boy really texted me at five the morning telling me to meet him at his locker three hours later. If he wasn’t still sick I would for sure have throttled him. Except for the fact that Jisung didn’t look sick. Not at all. He looked perfectly healthy as he walked down the hall towards me. In fact, he looked...really....good. It pissed me off. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“Yeah, I got better.”

Jisung opened his locker like it was any other day and got his books. “What did you want to talk about?” He sighed and looked over at me. There was something different about him. Did his jaw always look like that? No. No jaw looks like that. 

“So this morning I woke up and like I felt completely fine. In fact, I felt the best I have in years. And this weird thing happened to me on the subway-”

Jisung’s words were interrupted by the sound of his locker closing, only the entire row of metal lockers rattled as his shut. “The fuck? Did we have an earthquake or something?” I asked looking around. “What? No. New York isn’t on a fault line.” Shrugging it off I turned back to Jisung.

“You were saying?” He seemed distracted now, looking at his closed locker. “Ummm.... I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “Ji, you don’t need to thank me. I’ll always take care of you if you need me.” As I pulled away his hands stayed on my waist, which wasn’t totally out of the norm. Jisung was always a really touchy and flirty person. It drove me crazy sometimes, knowing that it was just his personality and not him acting on something else. 

“So this weird thing happened on my way to school this morning. My hand-” Again Jisung was interrupted. This time by the bell ringing for homeroom. “Hey Jisung, I’ve gotta go, but you can tell me at lunch right?” He nodded, his expression becoming more uneasy. As I turned his grip on my waist stopped me.

“Ji, I know you wanna tell me now but I have to go!” I said with a laugh. A nervous breathy laugh escaped his lips as he tried to pull away from me. “Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you.” Arching an eyebrow I chose to ignore his weird behavior and walked off to my homeroom. 

When the lunch bell finally rang I took my food outside to where Ji and I normally ate. However, he was nowhere in sight. As if he could read my thoughts, my phone notified me of a text from Jisung.

Lix asked me to help him with some Chem work. Sry I can’t eat with you :(

I sent him a quick reply saying it was okay. It wasn’t the first time I had eaten alone and it surely wouldn’t be the last. To no surprise, Chaeyoung and one of her friends walked by. “Have you seen that kid? What’s his name? Jihyun?” She said in her shrill voice. It was hard not to hear her conversation even from twenty feet away.

“No, I think his name is Jisung. Han Jisung. He is in my physics class. Kind of a dweeb if you ask me.” 

“Well, that dweeb filled out. He was probably just a late bloomer, but like all of a sudden, he got really hot. Have you seen his arms and his chest? Oh my god! A girl could die.” 

The girls laughed and continued to objectify my best friend. They were right. Jisung had seemed to have had a huge glow up overnight. His lanky form did seem more toned and his arms were much more muscular than I remembered. 

“Can you believe he still hangs out with that new junkie girl? Like, please. He could get any girl he wants now. Why stay friends with that waste of space?” 

“That bitch is so full of herself. Literally, no one even likes her.” Chaeyoung said laughing. Having heard enough, I got up and decided to go to my next class early. It didn’t necessarily bother me what she had said. Chaeyoung always liked to mess with me.

All my classes seemed slower than usual and Jisung was answering my texts. At this point in the day, we would probably be having a meme war or a stupid conversation ignoring our teachers, but my phone was silent. Not a single notification. 

By the end of the day, I was feeling totally depressed. English was my last class and thank god I had it with Jisung. No doubt he would be late though. He rarely ever showed up on time to class. But, as I walked through the classroom door I did a double-take seeing my best friend in his usual seat right beside mine. 

He gave me an innocent smile. This was strange. Jisung was never early. He looked...normal. I mean other than the physical overnight puberty storm. He slouched in his chair his long legs spilling into the aisle, not that he cared, and he twirled a pen between his long slender fingers. 

“Yo, wassup, cutie?” He said as I sat down. “You seem to be the talk of the school.” He shrugged and shuffled through some physics work he had on his desk. “You jealous?” That stupid smirk appeared on his mouth. “No. Just confused.”

“Okay, class. Settle down. We are going to be returning to our analysis of Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility.” 

I busied myself with taking thorough notes knowing Jisung would just fall asleep again or just play a random game on his phone. The teacher droned on making a seemingly not boring book a complete snooze fest. The lecture continued without end threatening to send me to sleep as well. Out of habit, I looked over at Jisung, except he was not asleep. Jisung was wide awake and he appeared to be listening intently. 

As if he sensed I was looking at him he turned and smiled at me before returning his attention to the front of the classroom. This was too weird. Where was my Jisung? Maybe he was still sick. That could explain the weird behavior, right? 

The harsh sound of the release bell brought me out of my thoughts. Jisung was already packing up his stuff. “Hey, you wanna stop by Tony’s on the way home? You can buy me a slice!” I said latching onto his arm. The girls were right. Jisung had filled out. Feeling myself starting to blush, I let go and looked back up at my best friend. 

“I can’t. I’ve gotta run some errands fro May and then Uncle Ben asked me to pick up dinner and some other stuff.”

“I can come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll text you later!” 

Without another word, Jisung raced out of the classroom. I knew Jisung pretty well and it was clear he didn’t want me around today. Alone-again- I rode the subway back to my apartment to be greeted by an empty living room. My mom had left a note on the counter leaving me money for dinner and saying Jisung was welcome to come over. “Yeah, well he’s too busy,” I said to no one in particular. 

It got dark pretty quick. All my homework was finished. I even managed to submit the stupid article on lunch menus. Eventually, I had nothing to do but stare at my ceiling. The news was getting pretty boring. After the whole Avenger’s fiasco, things had quieted down, and no interesting stories were in sight. By 11:30 I had given up hope Jisung was going to text let alone call so I did the next best thing. 

“Hi, May! Is Jisung busy?” 

“Hi, sweetie! Jisung got home about an hour ago. He said he was out with Felix. Should I tell him to call you?”

“No, no. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell him. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Okay, honey. Goodnight!”

Han Jisung you filthy little liar. If he didn’t want to hang out with me he should have just said so. Deciding I had finally had enough of this awful day I curled up under my covers and fell asleep.

Months had now passed and Jisung had started acting normal again. Well as normal as Jisung could be anyway. Our near daily trips to Tony’s had decreased to only twice a week and Jisung always seemed to be busy after school, though he made sure to text me back for fear of facing my wrath. 

“What do you think of this Spiderman guy?” I asked typing away on my laptop. Jisung lounged across my bed, the Saturday afternoon light casting a warm glow over his face.  He looked up from his place beside me. “Uhh...I don’t know. What do you think of him?”

“He seems a little childish and amateur, but he is a great story. Vigilante helping out downtown New York? That’s gold.”

“Childish? What do you mean childish? He’s professional as fuck. I heard he stopped a bank robbery the other day.”

“Yeah, and they found the criminals hanging from a lampost by their underwear.”

Jisung laughed and ran a hand through his blonde hair before looking up at the ceiling. “You’ve been talking about Spiderman a lot lately. What do you have a crush on him?” I scoffed, fingers flying across my keyboard. “Please. I don’t date children. Besides, I just think he is a great story.”

“You wanna order takeout?” Jisung asked reaching over me to get my phone. My dad was on duty and my mom was on call so Jisung had come over to keep me company. I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice how amazing he smelled as he leaned over me. “You know you should really stop eating junk food. You are what you eat.” I said distracting myself from how close he was.

“Well then if we are what we eat, I guess I would be fast, cheap, and easy.” 

Jisung winked at me, making my eyes roll. Jisung had grown at home in his new body and somehow he got even cockier than he was before. He groaned at my lack of response and instead let his head rest in my lap, giving him a good view of my screen. “Play with my hair, bitch.”

“Excuse me, dick. I’m working.” He laughed and unlocked my phone. I often wondered why he liked just sitting with me. I think I remembered him telling me once that he liked the sound of me typing. He said it had sort of a rhythm that only belonged to me. How he could pick up on that I had no clue. Like he had superhearing. 

“I ordered sushi. Don’t worry, I’ll pay.” Jisung said, adjusting his body slightly so he wasn’t at an awkward angle. I smiled continuing to write about our masked arachnid hero. “Please tell me you got boba too.” I sighed suddenly craving the sweet drink.

“Of course, baby. I’ve got you.” 

There was a moment of silence. Any minute now Jisung was going to break it. The boy couldn’t go three minutes without talking. “Do you think Spiderman is hot?” Jisung blurted out. 

“Jisung...do we need to have a talk?”

“What- no! Oh, what- no! I mean like do you think he’s hot?”

“The guy wears a mask; how am I supposed to know?”

He shrugged and played on my phone. “I don’t know. What do you think he looks like?” With Jisung’s mind, he wasn’t going to drop this until he got an answer. Saving my work, I closed my laptop and moved it onto the side table. “He’s probably like thirteen. I’m mean he is skinny enough to be a pre-teen.”

“No, like his face.”

“You are weirdly obsessed with this you know.”

“Answer the question already. I’m getting bored.”

I thought for a minute, my hand unconsciously moving to run through his blonde locks. What would spiderman look like? “He is probably just some random white dude. Dark hair, blue eyes maybe?”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. The topic changed after that. Jisung told me about spending time with his Uncle earlier that day and we talked about his weird physics experiments. Soon enough, the food came and Jisung paid for it like he said he would. We spent the next several hours sitting in my bed eating sushi, drinking boba, and watching a drama Jisung insisted I ‘needed to see or my brain would explode out of my ears from being lame’.

After several episodes, my room was obscenely dark and my parents had yet to come home. My back rested against Jisung’s chest letting me feel the vibration of his laughs. “Hey, it’s late. You should probably head home.” He smiled when I made no attempt at moving or letting him up. “Do you want me to stay?” “Yes  please.”  He chuckled and pulled out his phone, calling his uncle and letting him know. 

Soon I began to grow tired, my head slumping back onto his shoulder. He poked my side, trying to wake me up. “Hey, go change for bed.” Sleepily, I nodded and shuffled out of bed to sift through my closet for a nightshirt. Jisung moved around getting comfortable while I changed. 

As I walked back over to the bed Jisung shut my laptop and placed it on my nightstand. When I climbed back into my bed he pulled me on top of him, wrapping his arms around my waist. It had been quite a while since Jisung had stayed over. It felt so nice just to be next to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat lulled me to sleep. 

Jisung’s ringtone blared in my small room quickly waking me up. “Ji-” I said shoving my head under the covers. “I got it. Go back to sleep.” A quick glance at my clock told me it was two am. Who the hell was calling Jisung at two am? Jisung reached over me and grabbed his phone off the stand. He tried not to move a lot because my head still lay on his arm. “Hello?”

“Happy? What’s wrong?”

“Jisung tell the Disney dwarf to hang up. I wanna go back to sleep.” I whined, drowsily. Snuggling back into his chest, I reluctantly listened to him sleepily talk on the phone, Jisung not being fully awake himself. “Where am I? I’m at Y/n’s.....Yes....Yes, you can add the location to the list.” I felt Jisung run a hand through his fluffy hair and sigh.

“Mr. Stark said what? Yeah, yeah I have it in my bag....What now?....She’s gonna kill me....I can be there in ten.” Jisung hung up and started to get out of bed. “Woah, where the hell are you going? I need my personal space heater.” Jisung let out a tired laugh as he slipped his baggy shirt back on and rummaged through his bag looking for something. 

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”

“Jisung who the fuck is calling you at two am? What is so important that you have to leave?” I asked still not really awake and comprehensive. “Uhhh....my....internship.”

“Your what?”

“My internship.”

“Your what?” 

“My internship.” 

“Yeah-Ji- you keep saying ‘your internship’ like my half-asleep half murderous mind will understand what your saying.”

 “I got an internship with Stark Industries. They have uh... a problem....with some of the...code that I wrote....last week.” 

Jisung started slipping his socks back on as I stared at him in confusion. “When did you get an internship with freaking Tony Stark -You work with Ironman?!” He laughed and started searching for his shoes. 

“Y/n, go back to sleep. I’ll see you on Monday.” Then he left. I was alone once again in my room. A random siren went off in the distance and I just sat in bed. Suddenly, the police scanner on my dresser crackled to life. My dad had given it to me for my birthday a few years ago. 

We have a 647g Disorderly Conduct at 284 Hickom Av.

647g? Why bother calling that in at this time of night? That was just loitering. Sighing, I got up and walked over to turn the radio off. Another voice coming through stopped me. 

Disregard suspect has left the premise with another group of guys. Headed south down Hickom. 

South down Hickom street? What had my dad said earlier this week? Something about several high arms deals going down near there. If I could catch one in the act this would be a great story! Throwing on some pants and slipping on my sneakers, I grabbed my camera and put on my jacket. “Finally a great story!” 

Hickom Avenue was maybe about ten minutes away. The streets were pretty dark at two am, but it didn’t really bother me. My curiosity overpowered any fear I should have. My eyes scanned the area looking for any sign of the guys the scanner mentioned. Just as I was about to cross in front of an alley I saw them. Quickly I doubled back and pressed against the wall. 

“If I’m paying 4k for some lightsaber shit, I’d better get a demonstration, man.”

Carefully I peeked around the corner. Seven men stood in the hallway. Three were next to this heavy-duty van with blacked-out windows. This was definitely an arms deal if I had ever seen one. Which....to be fair...I hadn’t. But it was pretty clear. 

A guy with muscles bigger than my head pulled out a large weapon with green glowing lights. Quickly I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures. They proceeded to fire this huge light cannon around the alley. Holy shit. This thing was powerful.

“Okay, you got a deal. I’ll take four-”

Let’s dance the night away,

Let’s  dance the night away,

Yeaaaahh

One, Two, Three! Let’s go!

“Fuck,” I whispered ripping my phone out of my pocket and struggling to turn it off. “Turn off, come on.” Finally, I silenced the phone and turned to see if they had heard. Instead my eyes met a broad chest only a couple inches away. 

Okay....think, think, think. Too busy panicking. Can’t think. Uhhhhhh......fuck. I followed my first instinct and threw a punch at the guy’s nose. His head did not recoil like it was supposed to. He just simply cracked his neck and glared down at me.

Okay.....instincts bad.

Before I knew it I was struggling against the man’s grip as he dragged me into the alley. “We’ve got a visitor.” He said throwing me onto the ground in front of all the other men. They sneered and inched closer clearly quite upset I had interrupted their little party. 

“Make that two. Hey, how are you guys doing?” 

All heads turned to the roof of the liquor store we were next to. My eyes widened. There was Spiderman. Complete with the red and blue suit and cocky childish attitude. “Who the fuck are you?” The buff guy, who now had his foot digging into my stomach, said.

“Bro....Come on. I’m Spiderman. You know. I shoot webs and kick ass.” 

“Isn’t he that guy from YouTube that did the flip on that building?”

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

The man scoffed and pressed further onto my stomach, making me wince slightly. “Scram, Arachne Boy.” The men around me laughed at I assumed the leader’s joke. The hero sighed and shook his head.

“See now I have to beat you up. You can’t just make fun of my name. That shit hurts, bro.”

“What the fu-” Before he could finish his sentence a web shot and grabbed onto his face and flung him into the side of the building. Soon a fight broke out. Trying to remove myself from the situation I crawled away as Spiderman fought all the men. 

“Ah!” 

A strong hand grabbed the back of my neck and hoisted me off the ground. “You aren’t getting away that easy, little girl.” The man sneered. A huge welt was on the side of his face from Spiderman’s attack. My airway’s started to close as he squeezed tighter. My hands tried to pull his fingers away and slapping at any place I could reach. Meanwhile, the last thing I would hear before I died would be Spiderman yelling something about Naruto running a dude into the next Millenium. 

As the edges of my vision started to fade, I heard another voice come closer. “Get your fucking mutant hands off her!” It screamed. I was dropped to the ground. Air filled my lungs as I took huge gasps. Looking up I saw Spiderman taking on the huge monstrosity of a man with nothing but his own two hands. 

“I was told never to play with guns. But I think today might be the exception.”

A web shot out of his fingertips and pulled the weird contraption into his hands. A bright light emitted and fired at the man, blasting him into the building wall. Within seconds Spiderman had wrapped up the villain in a little cocoon of sticky webs, keeping him secure. A quick look around told me he had already done the same to the others. 

The boy in the red suit danced around like a weirdo, while I sat on the ground. “Go Spidey! Go Spidey! Hell yeah! I made all of you my bitches!” I coughed still trying to get air back into my lungs. The white eyes on his mask widened. It must be some pretty advanced tech in that suit.

“Holy shit- Are you okay, Y/n...........I mean...wait-...random citizen I don’t know who means nothing to me personally. Are you okay?”

His voice weirdly got lower halfway through his sentence. Dazed, I looked back up at him. He offered me a hand up and gratefully I took it. “Thanks for helping back there,” I said, voice coming out a bit sore. He shrugged and puffed out his chest. 

“Yeah, I did kick some serious ass didn’t I?”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my camera and started to walk away. “Wait! Where are you going?” He swung from a lamppost and landed in front of me the suit’s eyes widening and shrinking again. His suit must have facial readers or something. 

“I’m going home. I’ve got my story; I’m done.”

“Hey it’s not safe. Let me take you home. What would your friends say if you weren’t at school tomorrow?” 

Spiderman continued to follow me as if he were a lost puppy. I laughed when he almost tripped over a trashcan. “Okay, one- how do you know I’m a student? And two- I don’t really have any friends. People don’t like me at school.” He stopped in his tracks. 

“What do you mean- Are you getting bullied at school?” His words stopped me. He sounded genuinely concerned. By now we were halfway to my apartment. I simply stared at him as the old streetlights flickered and struggled to light up the sidewalks we were on.

“A couple people bother me, but I just ignore them. Look I’m gonna go home. Thanks for back there. You were a real hero.” 

He looked between me and my hand as I stuck it out for him to shake. Slowly he took it, his grip firm, but cautious. “You know, usually heroes get a thank you kiss for rescuing such a gorgeous girl.” I scoffed and pulled my hand away. 

“Sorry, Spidey. I’m not interested in cocky little shits who run around wearing masks.”

“Yeah well, you’d be surprised. What is your type? Bet, I’m still it.”

My eyes lit up thinking about him. “I guess I’m more of the boy next door type. They say you always fall for your best friend right?”

He blinked as if he was processing my words. What I thinking? A horny fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t understand. “Night, Spidey. Thanks for the save.” Not letting him say another word, I headed back to my apartment. My apartment was still empty when I returned. My parents wouldn’t be back until after I left for school in a few hours. Reluctantly I went back to my bed, missing the space where Jisung lay only a few hours earlier. It was harder to fall asleep without him next to me.

My legs carried me as quickly as they could. I ignored the crazy looks from people on the street as I raced to May’s apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I burst through the building’s main entrance. Knowing the elevator would take too long and it was probably broken again, I took the stairs up to the fourth floor. 

The door was unlocked when I ran into the apartment. “May? May!” I called, looking for her in the living room. Hearing small cries I turned to find her exiting the kitchen. With open arms, I let her hug me and cry into my shoulder. 

We sat in the kitchen in silence. Occasionally one of our cries would slip, but the emptiness would return. He wasn’t answering any of my calls. I was beginning to worry. May said they were together. Where was he? It had been hours since May had called me. The sound of the door opening made us both stand from our seats. 

Jisung walked in with heavy shoulders and blood on his forehead and smeared across his shirt. He had dried tears staining his cheeks. I had seen the footage of the shooting on the news with May, but the sight of Jisung standing before us made my heart break. 

I held myself back as May went to her nephew. They needed each other. I could wait. Whispers between the two were shared, most likely about her husband. She had already gotten a call, but hearing it from Jisung seemed important to her. After a moment she excused herself, saying something about wanting to go to bed. 

The two of us stood in silence. I had no idea how to comfort him. How could you comfort someone who just watched their uncle die? Jisung started to slowly move towards his room. Wordlessly, I followed. 

After I closed his door, I turned to find him staring at the walls small cries coming from his form. There were pictures of him and his uncle all over his room. Jisung sighed when I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He turned around so he could hold me to his chest. Hot tears fell against my neck as he cried. 

It felt like hours before he calmed down. Gently I led him over to the bed and sat him down. All he could do was stare at his hands as I grabbed a clean shirt from his closet and a wet cloth from the bathroom. There was no fight from him as I lifted the bloodied shirt from his body and put it in the hamper. 

Carefully, I lifted his chin and gently started cleaning the blood away from his face. I tried not to wipe away the tears that slowly ran down his cheeks. He looked broken-and tired like he hadn’t slept even before today’s events. My heart shattered when he finally looked me in the eye. 

“I’m not ready for this.” He whispered, more tears falling. 

Wrapping my arms around him, I let the clean shirt fall to the floor. “I know...” I tried to keep tears from falling from my own eyes. I concentrated on running my fingers through his hair and how tightly he held onto my waist. “You’re never going to be ready for it.” He cried even harder, making me want to scream for him. 

Slowly, I laid back onto his bed, holding him on top of my chest. “No one is ever ready for what you are going through,” I whispered. His body shook from crying and he buried his nose into my neck, holding onto me as if I were the only tether keeping him from floating away. “But, you are so strong. We aren’t faced with challenges we can’t overcome.” His breathing started to steady as my hand traced patterns on this bare skin of his back. “Sometimes I wish I was normal,” He whispered.

“Ji, you are anything but normal. And that’s okay. But for now...you can just be here. I’ll be with you. When you’re ready you can do whatever you need to. But...just stay here for now.”

He nodded and held onto me even tighter. I listened to his breath, gently rubbing his back and playing with his hair. When I knew he was asleep, I let myself do the same. Tomorrow would be another day. I would most likely have to leave and let Jisung and May grieve, but for now, I could be with him. Hopefully, that was enough. 

Early the next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. Jisung’s covers were loosely wrapped around me and his window was cracked open, letting a strip of sunlight in. Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my head. It was quite unusual for him to be up this early. Well, it was quite unusual for me to be up this early, but it was like my body had a sensor for when he was gone. I pulled my phone from the table and started to text him.

The sound of the window opening caused my attention to turn. I froze as I saw Jisung climbing through the window. “What the fuck!” He froze when he saw me. My eyes widened, taking the sight in. Jisung was standing before me wearing a familiar red and blue suit, a mask in his hand. 

“Y/n, I can explain...”

Was Jisung Spiderman? Was my best friend Spiderman? Holy shit! “Okay explain!” He simply stared at me, eyes wide. His hand came to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes avoided mine as my arms crossed my chest. 

“Jisung, might I suggest explanation protocol #38 for Miss L/n?”

“Oh my God! Friday, shut up! You aren’t helping.”

I watched as Jisung said to the AI apparently in his suit before he tossed the mask onto his desk. “You have an explanation protocol for me?” The look on his face showed that he knew he was in trouble. 

“See the thing is...I’m not Spiderman-...” He stopped when I glared at him. “Okay, I am Spiderman. This is my internship with Mr.Stark.” Without hesitation, I got up from his bed and started slapping his arm.

“This doesn’t even hurt, does it? You have superstrength. Oh my god, I’m going to fucking murder you.” An aggravated sigh left my chest. “So this whole entire time you have been swinging around the city saving people and doing flips on buildings and I was none the wiser?” I said turning back to him.

“That was one time! But...yes.” He stood awkwardly in his own room. “Look, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” He gulped when my stern gaze turned back on him. “So, anything you ask I’ll answer.” 

“Who else knows?”

“Mr. Stark, Happy- the guy who is my supervisor-, and Felix.”

“FELIX?”

He flinched as my voice raised. Taking a breath, I calmly sat back down on his bed. He watched as I crossed my legs and turned off the sound on my phone. No way was I gonna let my parents interrupt this conversation. “How did you become like...this...” I asked pointing to his clearly toned physique.

“At first I thought it was just like another puberty thing. But, like puberty doesn't make me shoot webs out of my hands. I think it was that spider from the lab.”

“So do-...are all your...bodily fluids...like...webs? Like do you shoot webs out of everywhere or-”

“You wanna find out?” Jisung said with a smirk, coming closer. I did not hesitate to slap him. 

“You couldn’t think of a better name though? Spiderman, really? You couldn’t come up with something more aggressive?”

“Well, I mean...like - spiders are cool, okay!”

I could tell he was uncomfortable. Usually, Jisung always stood up straight and had some sort of a smile or smirk on his face, but he was truly nervous. He watched me expectantly, waiting to answer whatever questions I asked next.

“So when you said you were away on a company retreat for the weekend. That was actually you who was fighting Captain America and all that shit in Prauge?”

“Yes.”

“When you left that night, did you go to the arms deal?”

“Yes.”

“So, it was you who saved me.”

“Your welcome.”

“Don’t push it.”

Nervously, he let out a laugh. No matter how many questions I asked...he was still my best friend. I was proud of him. He was doing so much good. Don’t get me wrong I was still very pissed at him for not telling me. “You owe me pizza at Tony’s for the rest of the fucking year.” A sigh of relief left his chest and he wrapped me in a hug. 

“That’s fine by me. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask about the whole crush thing.” I pulled away to see that fucking smirk on his mouth. “I think it’s cute you’re in love with me.” He tugged me closer to his body, gripping my waist.

“Who says I’m in love with you?”

“Me.”

“You’re an asshole- you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“I’m an asshole, not a liar. There’s a difference.”

My breath caught in my throat when I saw his eyes glance down to my lips. I could practically feel my heartbeat pulsing through my entire body. It was true and he knew it. I was in love with him. “Well....what are you going do about it? Prick...” I said in a shaky breath. He let out a soft laugh, his eyes lighting up. 

“Kiss you....bitch.”

My heart went crazy as he pressed his lips to mine. Closing my eyes, I melted into his touch. This was definitely the craziest two days of my entire life. I never would have imagined I would have to comfort my best friend, find out he was a superhero running around New York, and then have him kiss me in his bedroom.

Jisung smiled as I kissed him back, draping my arms around his neck and threading my fingers through his blonde hair. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought kissing Jisung would be like this. Without his mouth leaving mine he pushed me up against the wall of his bedroom. He sighed when my teeth caught his bottom lip.

“Fuck...do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” He asked before returning to my lips. 

“Kissing me?”

“To be honest I’ve been thinking about more than that since I was thirteen.”

Ignoring my scoff, Jisung continued to attack my lips like he had found water for the first time after walking in a desert. His hands slid under my legs, making me shriek when he picked me up. In one swift motion, he turned around and threw me onto his bed, before hovering over me. “I love you,” He whispered, before placing a soft kiss on my lips. Slowly, he moved down to my neck, my hands running through his soft hair. Impatiently, I pulled him back to my lips. 

Our little makeout session was interrupted by the sound of Jisung’s phone ringing. He sighed and dropped his head onto my shoulder. “I have to get that,” He sighed and pushed himself off the bed, walking over to pick up his phone. My eyes couldn’t help but rake over him. Now, I could freely ogle how gorgeous his body was. I bit my lip, looking at the lines of his broad shoulders go down to his slim waist.

“Happy, now is not a good time.”

“Yes....among other things...” A blush flooded his cheeks as he looked back at me still laying on his bed. 

“Can’t Mr. Stark send someone else?”

“I’m not just going to up and leave.”

Getting bored, I got up and wrapped my arms around him. He tried to look over at me, but I just buried my face in his chest. Patiently, I waited for him to finished the call with Happy. Finally, he threw the phone onto his bed and kissed me again. “Do you have to go?” I asked against his lips. He pulled away another smirk filling his face.

“You want to go to Berlin for a week?”

“What?”

“Mr. Stark needs me in Berlin. Something about S.H.I.E.L.D and an Avenger thing. But, there is no way May will let me go. Especially after yesterday.”

“Why am I going?”

“Happy said I could take you with me, you know to convince May to let me go.”

I laughed and kissed him again. “Sure. I’ll go to Berlin with you.” He laughed and spun me around the room. “However, you are gonna be the one to tell my dad that we are going alone with no chaperone to a country where the drinking age is sixteen.” 

“Fuck.”

“Good luck, Ji.”

Requests are open, just send an ask my lovelies!

Masterlist

[gaylorlyrics]

the last great american dynasty

Rebekah rode up on the afternoon train, it was sunny

Her saltbox house on the coast took her mind off St. Louis

Rebekah is Rebekah “Betty” Semple West Pierce a sculptor, and philanthropist born on April 17, 1915 in St. Louis. She also composed music, one of many similarities between her and Taylor.

Bill was the heir to the Standard Oil name, and money

Bill refers to William Hale "Bill" Harkness, the grandson of David Harkness who invested with John Rockefeller in Standard Oil. When David died he left what would today be over a billion dollars to Bill’s father, who was also named William Harkness. Eventually Bill inherited what would today be approximately $185M dollars from his father (approx 70% of this wealth was from Standard Oil shares).

And the town said "How did a middle class divorcée do it?"

In 1939 Rebekah married Dickson Pierce, descendent of President Franklin Pierce. However they divorced in 1946, and then in 1947 she married Bill. Her father was a stockbroker, and her grandfather started a trust company - so she wasn’t exactly middle class, but her wealth was significantly less than the wealth of the Harkness family.

The wedding was charming, if a little gauche There's only so far new money goes They picked out a home and called it "Holiday House"

Holiday House was built on Watch Hill in Rhode Island by Mrs. George Grant Snowden who, contrary to the song, named it Holiday House. Seems like this house has been having raucous 4th of July parties for a long time - at least according to this NYTimes article from July 6, 1941:

Their parties were tasteful, if a little loud

The language here mirrors that of the first verse - “the wedding was charming, if a little gauche”.

The doctor had told him to settle down

Bill died in August (interesting!!!!) 1954 of a heart attack - he had also had a heart attack the year prior, but that one was obviously not fatal. He and Rebekah had one child together named Edith who eventually committed suicide at the age of 34. 

It must have been her fault his heart gave out

This line calls attention to how women are frequently blamed for, well, everything. Something that is explored more in mad woman.

And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty" Who knows, if she never showed up what could've been There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything

The chorus and the title of this song seems to come from the title of a book about Rebekah called “Blue Blood: How Rebekah Harkness, One of the Richest Women in the World, Destroyed a Great American Family” written by Craig Unger. The from cover of the book reads “The story of Rebekah Harkness and how one of the richest families in the world descended into drugs, madness, suicide, and violence”. [Also, interesting that the background of the cover I found looks a lot like the blue/pink in the Lover cover!]

The chorus also references “mad woman”, another track on folklore. This song subverts the idea of a mad woman. The title and subtitle of Blue Blood use Rebekah as a scapegoat for everything that went wrong, blaming her solely for violence, drugs, mental illness, and loss. It uses several classic, sexist tropes of a gold-digger, a “crazy” woman, and the whore. However, in this song Rebekah is not taking the blame or feeling guilt about what is happening - she is having a marvelous time.

Another interesting thing is changing “great American family” - family is defined as “a group consisting of parents and children living together in a household” - to the word “great American dynasty” - dynasty is defined as “a line of hereditary rulers of a country.” I find this specifically interesting because dynasty, unlike family, acknowledges a long lineage of people and decisions that lead to this outcome, as opposed to placing all the responsibility and blame on Rebekah, who only entered the picture at the tail end of this story. The title of Blue Blood has no accountability for the people who were involved with the dynasty before - framing it as if David Harkness didn’t choose to leave his wealth to his lineage, as if Bill Harkness did not choose to marry Rebekah, and as if the wealth Bill inherited wasn’t already diminished by 81.5% from what the family’s original wealth was (as passed down from David Harkness to Bill’s father).

However, Taylor is changing the narrative here to give Rebekah a more joyful way to be remembered.

Rebekah gave up on the Rhode Island set forever Flew in all the Bitch Pack friends from the city

Rebekah and her fellow debutantes formed a group called the Bitch Pack and were known for causing a scene at parties, doing strip teases on the tables or putting mineral oil in the punch, which acts as a laxative.

Taylor is drawing a parallel here to her famous squad days, when her and her group of girl friends were constantly under fire from the internet/press.

Filled the pool with champagne and swam with the big names

Rumor has it that Rebekah cleaned her pool with Dom Perignon. Being a socialite and one of the richest women in America, she frequently kept high profile/famous/successful company - hence the “big names”. Stories of her involve J.D. Salinger, Alvin Ailey, and Andy Warhol, to name a few. However, swimming in champaign is also a metaphor or the carefree life of the rich and famous - something that she used in This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things, from Reputation, where Taylor describes a similar scene:

It was so nice throwing big parties

Jumping to the pool from the balcony 

Everyone swimming in a champagne sea 

And there are no rules when you show up here 

Bass beat rattling the chandelier

Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year

Another interesting tidbit is that the house where The Great Gatsby (1974) was filmed is the Rosecliff Mansion in Rhode Island, about 1 hour away from Holiday House.

And blew through the money on the boys and the ballet

Rebekah married twice more after Bill’s death, once in 1961 and once in 1974. As a life long dancer, she spent the majority of her time and energy founding (in 1964) and developing The Harkness Ballet Foundation, which still exists today as The Harkness Foundation for Dance. As part of this endeavor she also established a ballet training school and the Harkness Theater. She paid for everything for the company, from teachers to housing to plastic surgery. The company went on tour and performed at the White House, although it had a generally negative critical reception. At the peak of the company’s success Rebekah abandoned the project and started a different company

And losing on card game bets with Dalí

Although I couldn’t find anything specifically referencing a card game, Rebekah was good friends with Salvadore Dali. Here they are pictured holding a press conference together.

A portion of Rebekah’s ashes are in a $250,000 urn created by Dali called “The Chalice of Life”. The urn was designed to spin, so that Rebekah could always be dancing.

And they said "There goes the last great American dynasty" Who knows, if she never showed up, what could've been There goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen She had a marvelous time ruining everything They say she was seen on occasion Pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea And in a feud with her neighbor She stole his dog and dyed it key lime green

According to the NYTimes, Rebekah dyed her neighbors cat green 

Fifty years is a long time Holiday House sat quietly on that beach Free of women with madness Their men and bad habits, and then it was bought by me

Weeee the classic Taylor Swift storytelling twist! This is a great flex by Taylor to just casually drop in a reminder that she is a rich woman who has made her own money and can buy whatever she wants. The phrasing of this also let’s us know that the house is no longer free of women (plural, more than one woman) with madness (we’ll hear more about being a mad woman later in the album), their (possessive, something owned or bought) men, and their bad habits (bearding?). Taylor is admitting to having all of these things. Who knows, if I never showed up what could've been There goes the loudest woman this town has ever seen I had a marvelous time ruining everything I had a marvelous time Ruining everything A marvelous time Ruining everything A marvelous time I had a marvelous time

This makes me think of the line at the end of Miss Americana - “Sorry I was loud in my house. That I bought. With the songs that I wrote about my life.” 

Taylor, like Rebekah, is used to being blamed for everything and causing a scene. Even her purchase of Holiday House caused considerable backlash and commotion - with the governor creating a tax in 2015 (two years after Taylor purchased the house) called the “Taylor Swift tax” on homes worth over $1M dollars - something that affected many people in Rhode Island, especially those with large houses and vacation homes. All Taylor did was buy a house to live in (with her money, that she got from writing songs about her life), and she was immediately brought under fire.

However, like she did with Rebekah’s story, Taylor is flipping that narrative and focusing on how much fun she is having instead.

[mk-wizard]

Is Heatwave really an Autobot?

Two fan theories in one day! This one came out of the blue and it was inspired by @geminiofpluto​ who had an art piece in her reblogs that seemed strange, but now, kind of explains a bit about Heatwave. The big obscure fan theory I am going to discuss is the Autobot from the beloved Rescue Bots series aimed for small children and how he may have a huge skeleton in his closet. The big theory and mystery is... is Heatwave really an Autobot?

Now, I know what many fans are thinking. Of course he’s an Autobot! He’s got the insignia, he calls himself one and he’s a Rescue Bot for crying out loud! However, might I remind everyone that in the beginning of the series, Heatwave didn’t want to be a Rescue Bot especially not for humans. He wanted to be a soldier in Optimus Prime’s platoon and even after he was given his task, he practised it begrudgingly making it constantly obvious that he didn’t want to be there. While his coworkers found joy in their jobs, Heatwave never completely did. Sure, he does save people and he does have a good spark, but that doesn’t mean he’s a saint. Heatwave always came across as the most hostile out of the four bots and even when he went on to become a teacher in Rescue Bots Academy, this aggression remained.

I also noticed something else that is worth noting even if it seems a weird: Heatwave is the most frightening when angry. He bares his teeth, raises his voice, clenches his fists, is not above making threats and has even gotten spiteful at times. Another thing about Heatwave that is unbecoming of an Autobot is that he doesn’t seem to like people very much in general not just humans. And not in an unfriendly-I-just-want-to-be-left-alone way like Gears does. Heatwave is an-I-hate-everything-and-everyone level of not liking people. And the more he doesn’t like you, the meaner he can get. I mean, just look at how he treats Hotshot. Yes, Hotshot is a handful, but I have to say it if no one else will, Heatwave actively singles him out and when he becomes his personal instructor, he is negligent and even tricks him into doing janitor work. Moreover, he only starts warming up to Hotshot when the kid starts idolising him which just seems off to me. The only type of people Heatwave does seem to like are fighters and fans hence why he idolises Optimus and respects Cody. And why he only took a liking to Hotshot when he started to idolise him. The more I look at Heatwave’s personality profile, the less I see an Autobot. Yes, deep down, he is good and tries to stay on the straight and narrow, but it seems to be a struggle with him. This has lead me to think that maybe just maybe Heatwave isn’t really an Autobot at all. Methinks that Heatwave has a bit of Decepticon in him.

Like I said, this doesn’t mean his moral alignment isn’t good. It is all the way. However, having Decepticon code in your data does have an impact on you and it is a fact that it does give the Transformer a predisposition to be a fighter. While some bots are better at managing these aggressive urges, they all have it. I would imagine that these urges are even harder to manage in an Autobot society which is well meaning, but has the backwater lifestyle of suppressing negativity rather than dealing with it which explains why Heatwave is a bundle of nerves. As DeviantArt user beccaboo13 explains in an article post of hers, she noticed the same traits in Heatwave and explains that he either was once entirely Decepticon and converted or one of his parents was a Decepticon meaning while his frame and insignia are Autobot, his data had Decepticon in it.

However, unlike her, I don’t think Heatwave is aware of it because he has the Autobot mentality and patriotism. He also only knows the Autobot way hence his loyalty to the Prime and wanting to serve him directly. My theory is that Heatwave was born a Decepticon, but converted as a sparkling or very small youngling by a set of adoptive Autobot parents who have yet to confide in him. Or one of his parents converted to Autobot, but this process is not perfect so some Decepticon got carried over to Heatwave. Keep in mind that in Autobot society, interfactional marriage is forbidden so having the Decepticon parent convert was the only way they could get married and both live on Cybertron.

Now, this isn’t to say that the Decepticon data (if it is there) has done only a disservice to Heatwave. The same Decepticon code that makes him hostile, stubborn and daring also makes him protective, passionate and willing to take heroic risks hence why he is a Rescue Bot at all. I mean, why should he be reduced to pretending that he’s a mindless robot and never take credit for his own hard work? And seriously, is he really in the wrong about being angry that he got reduced to a playground? Is this honouring him really even under the guise of a mindless robot? It’s not and frankly, if his partner respected him back, he would have at least asked the kids to not bring food on him and handle with care. This... come on. This is objectification and mockery.

Anyway, that is my fan theory inspired by @geminiofpluto​ and hope you all liked it.

[whattaloser]

Why I’m a Leftist

I know I’m probably just some dude who reblogs cool stuff to most of my followers but I’ve got a nice long story/rant about my political beliefs here that I’ve been wanting to write for awhile

I am a leftist first and foremost because I value human life. Everyone matters. No person is inherently more important than another person. Everyone has inherent rights that should not be infringed. People who infringe on other’s rights are morally wrong to do so. In essence my leftism is based on doing what is right. Obviously everyone has their own opinion on what is right but what is vitally important is knowing why your moral code is right. This is why so many people become liberals or conservatives or otherwise rather than leftists. They simply do not know enough about how the world works. There are a lot of reasons they don’t know, not the least of which is intentional covering up history and preventing education. I don’t believe people who aren’t leftists are stupid, but I do believe leftists know more. It’s kinda fucked up but it’s the only way you can explain inconsistencies in other’s values.

My path to leftism was full of cringe. When i was 7 years old Al Gore was running against George Bush for president. I did not know enough to have a real opinion on it but I am happy to say that I wanted Al Gore to win. This thought was based on very little if any logical reason. I basically flipped a coin in my head I think. Or maybe there was some outside influence that I wasn’t aware of, like my older sister who I looked up to might have said she liked Al gore. Either way, from then on I was in favor of democrats and did not like George Bush. When 9/11 happened I remembered thinking how dumb it was that people lined up around the block to get gas. Even as a child I knew that some buildings going down wasn’t going to end the great nation of the United States. In general I thought the United States was a great country. I knew from movies and tv as well as elementary school history that the United States was the most powerful country in the world. 

I recall in Sixth grade my teacher mentioned she liked George Bush because he was against gay marriage. Somehow at the time my opinion was the opposite despite being raised Catholic. I believed in god until I graduated high school and suddenly my desire to be religious slipped away and so did my belief. I do not consider this a great loss. 

Sometime in middle school or early high school I had solidified my opinion that the war in Iraq and Afghanistan was pointless and George Bush was a bad president. I was heavily influenced by movies and somewhat by video games that had imparted plenty of anti-war messages. Talks with my dad about nuclear missiles, watching History channel shows about world war 2, and playing Metal Gear Solid which had explicit nuclear disarmament messages, all informed me on the horrors of war. This was not enough to make me totally anti-military. In high school I wanted to join the military because I thought it was an easy way to get life experience and eventually pay for college. I was attracted to the Marines because of how cool movies like The Rock and video games like Call of Duty made it seem to be a Marine. I thought they were the best of the best. I was simultaneously against war, against veteran worship, and very pro-military. I was indoctrinated by years of government propaganda but also disillusioned by all forms of media including the book All Quiet on the Western Front which was about a soldier becoming disillusioned by witnessing horrors of war and the negative impact it had on everyone in his country. I spoke with a recruiter during my senior year and expressed my desire to be a Marine but I told him I wanted to wait a year after high school so I could get physically fit enough. The recruiter did not care that I was underweight and out of shape. He didn’t even care that I was very enthusiastic about joining, he was still putting on his best salesman demeanor which made me incredibly uneasy. The experience is supposed to pressure people into signing up on the spot, I think they even had forms for me to sign (i can’t really remember though) but I was not ready and was aware enough how I was being manipulated although not entirely cognizant. After that I no longer wanted to be in the military.

I also have to point out that I grew up in an unstable household. My parents were both loving but they were flawed and made mistakes and had problems. My dad was a typical Gen x man’s man. A little bit too emotionally repressed, but actually really good with kids when it came to play time and still is. He worked a lot because my mother couldn’t. My mother has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder as long as I can remember. Her medical bills related to her problems combined with other financially bad decisions by my parents caused my home life to be fraught. I lived in varying degrees of poverty until my parents separated and me and my siblings moved with my mother to her parents’ house away from my father. Prior to moving though, we endured great financial difficulty. We were unable to afford school lunches but could not apply for free or reduced lunches because technically my father made a lot of money, however it was all garnished for medical bills. My father always tells about how he bought a car that had hidden frame damage and when he attempted to sue the dealership for selling a bad car he lost and was garnished for that as well. Despite making over 25 dollars an hour in 1999, my father could not afford school lunches for three kids and couldn’t afford to pay the gas bill. Without going into too much more detail, life sucked and continued to suck until I graduated, at least financially. I still found plenty of joy and it wasn’t always that bad. We still found ways to have good things like video games and we could always rewatch old movies but there’s a lot of psychic weight that comes with being that poor as a child and I’m sure it affects me and my ability to empathize with others who in bad conditions. 

So i watched a lot of movies and documentaries, read a lot of books growing up, discovered internet forums at the age of 11, played video games, moved to a town that had a very large Hispanic population, and I even grew up poor. All of this life experience turned me into a very average liberal upon graduating high school. I was a very optimistic 18 year old. I thought science could save the world. If I was 18 today I would be an average redditor stereotype probably. The point here though is I still wasn’t a leftist. Only vaguely progressive and full of optimism. This is when I got sucked into the anti-feminist pipeline.

I can’t remember what exactly what I had going on in my life but I remember it was around the time of Gamergate. Everyone on the internet, celebrities, and pop culture were saying “if you believe in equality between genders you’re a feminist” an did not like that. And there was a ton of people online to tell me I was right in not liking that. They all said feminism was not necessary anymore because legally you couldn’t discriminate against women and I agreed. Gamergate made it worse for reasons too complicated to get into in this already long post but suffice it say I was “pro Gamergate.” This put me at odds with my closes friends who thought feminism was great and had no qualms with it, and were already embracing the idea of being a “social justice warrior.” Despite reading all kinds of anti-feminist think pieces and reveling in the discourse, I was still very progressive and liberal minded person. Still thought the military was bad, that black people were discriminated against etc. But so many aspects of anti-feminism were appealing to me as a white guy who tried their hardest to do what they’re told is right, had low self esteem, undiagnosed adhd and depression, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what feminism was. Two things got me out of anti-feminism though. The first and most important thing was having friends who were patient with me about it. I didn’t reveal how into anti-feminism I was because I was ashamed but they could sense it and pushed back when they could. The second thing that got me out of it was actually finding feminists online and reading what they had to say, staying away from poorly written clickbait articles that fueled misogynist tirades against feminism. After reading and learning from feminists it finally clicked. Our society is patriarchal and that affects how people interact with each other regardless of what is legal. Many of the complaints of anti-feminism talk about how men have it in society, so how can society be patriarchal. It’s because of patriarchy that men are put in bad positions. Some of the more self aware anti-feminists had retorts against these ideas but they were emotionally charged. There’s still some anti-feminists I have respect for because of how well prepared and logical they were when it came to disputing feminism. But when it came down to the fundamental tenants of feminsim all they could respond with was anger or outright denial of reality. (If you’re like I was and don’t understand how anyone can thing modern feminism is good please feel free to ask me more, I just can’t get into specifics in this long ass post) Anyways, once you understand patriarchy and how it affects an individuals actions then you can start seeing how other institutions and cultural norms can affect an individual. This is basically fundamentals of leftism. I’d say about 90% of my path to leftism was just naturally absorbing cultural and historical information through consumption of media. The most conservative people I know are people who haven’t read very many books or seen very many movies. I’m not saying watching Austin Powers at the age of 10 will make everyone a leftist but constantly recontextualizing the world by learning something new, even if you learned it from some dumb comedy movie, can give you better grounding in a shared reality.  Don’t know how to end this but I want to say when I was a teenager I thought “communism is good in theory but it doesn’t work in practice” and I had almost no historical basis for it other than the vague notion that USSR = bad despite having consumed a massive amount of media. None of it taught me what communism actually was, I didn’t know who Karl Marx was, and I had no clue why communism in the USSR failed. You can know a lot without knowing the truth so if you’re struggling with a loved one who is mind poisoned by conservative keep in mind that they know a lot but they’re missing something important to give clarity. 

This has been my Ted Talk