#slight trauma dump oops

[sweetcheeksschemmenti]

Beyond The Classroom

Pt. 1

I don’t expect this one to be very popular, this is a self indulgent piece 🫡

Summary: Once a Little Eagle, always a Little Eagle. Melissa keeps that promise to you year after year as she shows up for you in every possible way.

Warnings: Child abuse, neglect, abandonment, over all sad stuff (Mel makes it better!)

WC: 3.9k

Notes: Wrote this because it’s the week before Mother’s Day and I just want my mama (she’s an awful human being and will never be a part of my life again, 6 years no contact). Melissa is a comfort character for me, so I’m using this as a hug from her. I know there are plenty of other people with bad relationships with their moms (gotta love mommy issues), so I thought I’d share in case someone else would also like this hug.

I see you, I love you.

P.s. This story is about 85% based on events I experienced as a child/young adult. I’m thankful every day for the teachers who stepped in to be the parents I didn’t have.

You grew up in a not-so-wonderful household with abusive parents and older siblings who wouldn’t have noticed if you had decided to run away one day. Melissa Schemmenti knew. She was the one person you felt you could confide in as a child. She called CPS on your parents a handful of times during the year she taught you, in hopes of keeping you safe. Unfortunately, with a broken system and a mother who could sweet talk The Devil himself, your parents got off scot-free, leaving you to deal with the aftermath each time.

You would go into school the next day with a new bruise and tears in your eyes. Melissa would hold you close and let you cry all you could before pulling a chair up next to her own so you could be near your safe person all day. When it came time for dismissal, she would hug you extra tight and send a silent prayer to God that you’d walk through the doors again in the morning. On Fridays, she would sneak a Tupperware container of homemade food and a handful of snacks into your bag with a note that said ‘love you, kid’, knowing that your parents restricted your access to food and that she was probably the only person you heard those words from most days. The world sat heavy on your second grader shoulders and Melissa did everything she knew how to make it a little lighter.

Even as you moved on past second grade, Ms. Schemmenti was there. She would check in with each of your teachers at the beginning on the school year and pop in to say hello at lunch from time to time. If you had a particularly rough night at home you would stop by her room and ask her to hold you for a minute before other students arrived. She always obliged.

The day you moved on to middle school, Melissa cried right along with you. Both of you knew she wouldn’t be able to hug the hurt away or keep tabs on you as often. Of course, she made sure you knew how much she loved you, she gave you her personal phone number and said, “No matter how old you get or how far you go, you’ll always be my favorite little eagle. I’ll always be here for you if you need me and I mean it. If things go south at home, you call me and I’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’re gonna be okay.”

As the years passed, Melissa made sure she remained a constant- the only constant, really- in your life. Through your middle school years she became your tutor, meeting you at your school’s library every Thursday after dismissal to help you with your homework. Of course, those sessions were always a little more than just help with homework; she would bring you food and make sure you had clean clothes and basic necessities. One time you let it slip that your mother had ‘forgotten’ to buy you toothpaste and she dropped off a small bag of Colgate tubes on your front porch that night.

When you entered high school, Melissa made an effort to show up for every one of your art shows and track meets. Your parents never even made it to one, but Schemmenti was there. She always was. Your high school teachers even began to think Melissa was your mother; you never corrected them. And when you started working at the hoagie stand your sophomore year, Ms. Schemmenti would stop by once a week to have dinner with you.

The physical abuse dwindled a little as you got older and were able to fight back, but the verbal abuse got worse as a result. At one point during you senior year, your mother kicked you out after throwing a fit about you not inviting her to see you try on prom dresses. You called Melissa and she drove forty-five minutes at three in the morning to get you. Your mother knocked you to the ground and pulled fistfuls of hair, creating a tangled mess. When you were finally able to get her off of you, she screamed at you the entire time you packed your bag.

“FUCK YOU Y/N, YOU SELFISH BITCH! Couldn’t even include YOUR OWN MOTHER! It hurts, it’s almost like not getting invited to your WEDDING!” You dodged books and trinkets she threw at you as you tossed whatever sentimental things you could think of into trash bags to take with you. Photos of your grandparents, your favorite stuffed animal, and some of your artworks made it in before you heard Melissa honking in the driveway.

“You’ve never been my mom,” you seethed with tears streaming down your face as you dragged your bags down the stairs.

She blocked you from leaving at the bottom of the stairs and backhanded you, her ring catching the tender skin beneath your eye. You yelped in pain and stumbled forward, she grabbed you by the throat and squeezed. “You walk out that door and NEVER come back, you hear me? You are worthless, a waste of space and air.” She dug her nails into your skin before she released you and practically pushed you through the front door.

“You’ll never have to deal with me again. You want me out? I’m out.”

Your father followed behind with his fists balled up, “If you ever come back, it’ll be the last time you see daylight!”

Melissa waited for you by the car with her baseball bat, ready to swing if need be. Once your bags were in the backseat, Melissa tossed her baseball bat into the trunk and drove off. Your mother chased the car all the way down the driveway calling you every derogatory thing she could come up with.

The drive to Melissa’s house was silent save for the occasional quiet aob from both parties. Once you arrived, Melissa took your bags inside and walked you up the stairs to her bathroom to nurse your wounds. You winced as she swabbed your cheek with isopropyl alcohol and she frowned. “I’m so sorry, hon. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner to stop her.”

“Don’t be, you still showed up when I needed you. It coulda been a lot worse. Thank you,” you cried as you leaned your head against her stomach just like when you were a second grader.

She held you until your tears dried then left the room to grab a change of clothes for you. Moments later, she handed you a pair of her sweatpants and an oversized Eagles t-shirt. “You can take the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch. My spare room doesn’t have a bed right now, but we can fix that tomorrow after I call out of work. You need anything before I head down, kid?”

You looked at the ground, embarrassed to even ask, “Would you maybe… would it be okay if…. never mind, it’s stupid.” You shook your head and climbed under the comforter, it smelled like Melissa.

She somehow knew exactly what you were asking without hearing the words. She climbed into the bed and lifted an arm for you to scoot in. “Of course, sweet girl, it’s not stupid at all. I’ll keep you safe, promise. Try to get some sleep, I’ll be right here.” You settled into her embrace and took a deep breath.

You whispered, “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Sleep tight,” she whispered back before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Sleep was the last thing on her mind as she held you, watching as the rise of your chest slowed. She stayed awake the whole night, guarding your peace.

Late the following morning, you woke up to an empty bed and the sound of people in the house. You popped your head out into the hallway to see Melissa directing three men where to go with the new bed set. She heard the door creak and looked over at you with an apologetic smile, “Hey, hon, sorry to wake you! They’ll be outta here shortly. I called your school and work to let them know you wouldn’t be in for a few days so you don’t have to worry about it. I washed the clothes that were in your backpack, they’re sitting by my bathroom. There’s also a clean towel for you and a new toothbrush on the counter. You’re welcome to use my hairbrush and whatever else you need.” You smiled back at her and closed the door.

You picked an outfit from the pile of folded clothes and shut the bathroom door to shower. Your body was sore from the adrenaline and you groaned in pain as you shed your pajamas. Standing naked in the mirror, you looked over the marks your mother left on you. The nail marks on your neck were already scabbed over, but the gash under your eye was bruised and definitely going to leave a scar. You traced your fingers along each mark, tears forming in your eyes. The shower was hot enough to leave your skin red, you wanted to burn away any remnants of what happened to you. You sobbed loudly as you tried to detangle the mess of hair your mother created, it hurt and you were so worried that you’s just have to cut it all off.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Ya decent?” You opened the door for her and she gently took the brush from your hands. She directed you to sit backwards on the toilet while she worked at the knots on your head. You nearly fell asleep sitting there as she hummed and massaged conditioner into your hair, working diligently to make sure you kept your beautiful hair.

“You sleep okay,” She asked as she rinsed your hair in the sink.

“That was the best sleep I’ve had in a very long time. I haven’t slept in a bed in months, it was so soft.” You said it like it was nothing.

She paused. “Whatduya mean you haven’t slept in a bed in months?”

You sighed deeply. “They took my bed away because they said I was a whore and didn’t deserve one. I told them that I’m a virgin and they took the door off of my room, callin’ me a liar.” You hadn’t told her that detail when you saw her at one of your track meets a few months before. You figured you’d shared enough heartbreaking details with the woman, she didn’t need to be even more worried about you.

Hot tears silently flowed down her cheeks. She was angry. Not at you for not telling her, but at the low-lifes you called parents. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” she spat. She was ready to call in one of her favors from The Tire Iron. “Well I’ll tell ya one thing, kiddo, you ain’t goin’ back there ever again. You’ll never be without ‘long as I’m around, ya got it? And you’re welcome to stay here for as long as you want, no strings attached.”

You choked back your own tears. “Thanks, Ms. Schemmenti. I truly appreciate you.” She wrapped your hair in a towel and you turned to hug her. “What would I do without you?”

“Starve, apparently,” she teased when your stomach growled loudly. She grabbed your chin to look at you, “And no more ‘Ms. Schemmenti’. You can call me Melissa, Mel, Aunt Mel, whatever you want, just not that. You’re family, kid. Now c’mon, I’ll make you something to eat before we head out for a shopping trip.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her brow furrowed, “You tryin’ to make me feel old? None of that ma’am stuff either.” You giggled and followed her down to the kitchen.

She made French toast and sausage and you devoured the meal in just a few bites. Satisfied with you having eaten, she grabbed her purse, dragged you to the car and pulled out of the driveway. Along the way, she asked you to make a list of anything you might need or want. You took your phone out and looked at it for the first time that day. The screen was full of awful messages from both of your parents and extended family members. You chose to clear the screen and turn off notifications without reading them all and opened your notes app to jot down a few things you knew you missed when packing bags.

Melissa pulled into the mall parking lot and looked over at you, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what happened?”

You rubbed your eyes and tried to fake a smile, “Nothin’, I’m just tired.” She knew you well enough to know when you were lying, but she wasn’t going to push you on the subject.

“Mkay, kid. If you decide you wanna talk about it, you know I’ll always listen. And you know I’d kill for ya.” She gently nudged you with her elbow and the two of you made your way into the mall. You showed her your list and she took charge, guiding you around to every clearance rack and bargain bin in the vicinity. You paid for the majority of your new finds, but she insisted on helping with funds here and there. Many stores later Melissa stopped for a bathroom break and you found yourself in front of Auntie Anne’s. Remembering how much she loved soft pretzels- she’d get one every field trip- you decided to buy two, one for each of you. It was a very small token of gratitude, but you knew she’d be excited.

When she exited the bathroom, she scanned the food court for you and found you sitting at a table with all the bags. She sat down across from you and you pushed the soft pretzel her way with a little cup of honey mustard, “Thank you for today. Normally I hate shopping, but you made it fun.”

She gave you an upside down smile and took a bite. “I’m glad I could be a good distraction for ya, hon. And thank you for this!” She clinked her pretzel with yours to ‘cheers’ the day. As you finished your pretzels in silence while people watching, a dress shop on the upper level caught your eye. Despite trying on prom dresses, you never actually bought one.

Melissa‘s eyes followed your gaze and when she spotted the shop she knew what she was going to do. “Hey, I know you said you normally hate shopping, but since we’ve been having so much fun today… why don’t we keep the fun going and go pick out your prom dress? It’s what, two weeks out?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I can’t afford it now that I’ve spent half my savings on shit I needed today. Besides, I got to do prom last year, I’m alright missing out on this one.” You played with the straw in your drink absentmindedly and took the last bite of your pretzel.

Melissa thought back to the conversations she had with you about how excited you were for your senior prom. You buzzed about it every time the two of you spoke for months, it broke her heart to see you resign to not going. “My treat, hon. And I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, I know how bad you wanna go. C’mon,” she said as she prodded you up and dragged you to the dress shop.

You spent about an hour browsing and trying on different dresses, even somehow convinced Melissa to try one on with you for shits and giggles. You pretended not to see her sneak a picture in the mirror of the two of you in the matching dresses, a sweet moment she wanted to remember forever. Finally, you found the right one. The a-line strapless dress stopped mid calf, it was wine red and fit like a dream. When you emerged from the dressing room to show her, she gasped.

“Oh, beautiful girl! My favorite little eagle isn’t so little anymore.” She stuck her bottom lip out in an upside down smile as she reached to tuck your hair away from your eyes. She took a small step back and asked you to spin so she could see it all. The smile on your face told her you made your choice. With misty eyes she pulled you into a tight hug, limiting your ability to breathe.

“I can’t… breathe… help,” you choked out. The redhead lessened her squeeze and apologized but didn’t let go, she needed that moment to collect herself. You stood there embracing each other for a couple of minutes before Melissa finally released you. Once you changed back into your clothes, she took the dress to the register and paid.

You walked out together and stuffed all the bags in the trunk, laying the dress flat in the backseat. “Thank you. For everything, Aunt Mel. For a few hours, it didn’t feel like my world was crashing down around me. I’m lucky to have you.”

She kissed her fingers and then pressed them to your cheek before she started driving. “I’m pretty lucky to have you too, kid. And I’ll always be here to pick up the pieces when you need me.”

The drive back to Melissa’s house was quiet, aside from the classic rock station playing the weekly hits countdown. You checked your silenced notifications to see even more messages and missed calls from your family, Melissa glanced over and saw them too. “If you want, we can change your number this week, that way they can’t bother you anymore,” Melissa offered.

“They still pay for my phone, I can’t. They’d cancel my service the moment they found out.” You shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“Then I’ll just move you over to my cell plan. They don’t deserve the power they have over you, hon.” You opened your mouth to protest but stopped when she pointed at you. “Let me help, please. Because I can and I want to.”

“Thanks, Aunt Mel.”

A few minutes later you arrived back at the townhouse and dragged all of your new belongings up to your new room, hanging up the dress immediately. Melissa said she’d help you make the bed and get settled once she got dinner in the oven. While she was working in the kitchen, you curled up on the couch and flipped the TV on, settling on ‘Rick Steves’ Europe’ reruns. Rick’s comforting voice began to lull you to sleeping and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

Melissa walked in to tell you she was ready and found you fast asleep. Her heart melted at the sight. She draped the couch blanket over you and lightly tucked it in so as to not disturb your slumber. ‘How could anyone hurt something so precious,’ she thought to herself. After she tucked you in, she made her way upstairs to gather your new sheets and comforter to wash them before starting on the rest of the room.

She grabbed the basket of your clothes from her own room and began to hang them up in your closet. Once she finished the task, she cleaned out the dresser and filled it with your socks, pants, and undergarments. One by one, she removed her family photos from the walls and replaced them with the handful of framed photos you brought with you. She recognized your grandparents’ photo from the one time she had met them at the beginning of your second grade year, right before they passed. They were your best friends, you were safe when they were around. Melissa decided to place the picture on your nightstand so that they’d be watching over you every night. Lastly, she organized your toiletries in the guest bathroom and set out a fresh set of towels and one of her robes.

Satisfied with her progress, she took a short break to check on you, change over the laundry, and take out the lasagna. You were still asleep and she didn’t want to disturb you so she ate alone in the dining room and texted her mother.

Mel: Hey, Ma. You mind setting an extra place at the table for family dinner on Sunday?

-Ma: Hot date?

-Mel: Nah. You remember me telling you about Y/N?

-Ma: You’ve talked about her for the last ten years, yeah I remember. Is the poor kid okay? Her parents treating her like shit again?

-Mel: They kicked her to the curb, said she wasn’t welcome back. She’s staying with me for as long as she needs to.

-Ma: Of course I’ll set an extra place for her, Amore. She need anything? You need anything?

-Mel: She needs all the love she can get, just make her feel like family. I’ve got everything else handled. Thanks, Ma.

-Ma: We can do that. Talk soon.

She finished her meal and gathered the clean bedding from the laundry room, making her way back upstairs to make your bed. Once the sheets were on, she fluffed the comforter and pillows before opening your backpack to retrieve your favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Bunz. Even at eighteen, you slept with him tucked in your arms every night. She hugged the well-loved bunny to her heart and thought back to the day she gave him to you. Right before holiday break your third grade year, she pulled you aside at dismissal and tucked him into your backpack. She told you to give him a hug whenever you needed to feel loved and she wasn’t around to give you a hug herself. Little did she know, that was the only gift you received that year.

Melissa placed him in the middle of the pillows, like the cherry on top, and went back downstairs to wake you for dinner. She sat on the arm of the couch and gently began to run her fingers through your hair. “You need to eat somethin’, sweetheart,” she whispered as your eyes fluttered open. You stretched and sat up, leaning your head against her leg.

“What time is it?”

“About 7:30. You’ve been through a lot the last 24 hours, figured you could use the rest. I got your room all set up for ya. I’ll heat up your plate and we can watch a movie before bed. How’s that sound?”

You rolled off the couch and rubbed your eyes. “Sounds good,” you yawned. You followed the redhead into the kitchen and sat at the counter. She warmed your plate in the microwave and placed it in front of you with a glass of water. You demolished your meal like you hadn’t eaten in days, complimenting her cooking after every other bite. You washed your dishes and then made your way back to the living room, joined by Melissa. She turned on one of your favorite comedy movies and watched the light return to your eyes a little more with each scene.

Sitting there, laughing at the stupid jokes on the screen with the closest thing you’ve ever had to a real mom, with a full stomach and a warm bed waiting for you upstairs, you realized something.

For the first time in your eighteen years of life, you were finally home.

[hollow-prey]

I need to move out for many reasons (the main problems why I cannot at the moment being that everything, housing included, is Fucking Expensive, and I cannot reasonably afford a house or rent at this time), and one of the less serious reasons is so that I can start dressing like the eccentric, whimsical goth gf I've always wanted to be without agonizing over what my parents would think. "oh but you're an adult now you can do what you want" while this is true, I have HORRENDOUS anxiety regarding parental opinions about stuff I do, specifically coming from my dad. Like the first time I got high at a friend's house, I was genuinely having a great time, only to keep periodically lamenting and worrying about what my parents would think of me if they found out. I was also 24 in a state where weed had been legalized for everyone 21+ a few years prior. And now we both have edibles on hand and my parents take a piece of chocolate every day to help them sleep. anyway

I'm not entirely sure what kind of buried trauma such anxiety might indicate, or where exactly it manifested from, and while my dad has never judged me to my face and seems mostly chill with my inherent weirdness in other areas (probably thanks to my mom), I already know he wouldn't be super amused or thrilled if I started wearing gothic dresses with corset details or tattered skirts and fishnets or black lipstick and black platform heels or if I started dressing like some mysterious fae elf etc. etc. He likes to make snap judgements and jump to conclusions based on appearances and surface-level details, and I feel like his whole attitude (even if he didn't express it directly to me) would be "why do you need to dress like that? what is the purpose? why do you have to be weird and make a statement and draw attention to yourself like that? why can't you just dress in Normal Clothes like everyone else?" And I just can't escape that lingering feeling of dread and inevitable judgement whenever I think about dressing differently for a change. Once I live on my own and don't have to see my parents every single day I think I'll feel more comfortable and confident and less anxious dressing how I want, even if it may not be that drastic of a change (at first).

[nicomoon69]

ignore the slight style inconsistencies, I am tired :3

oc lore dump under cut!!

little background:

the isolated area in which these characters live is about the size of Eurasia. there’s five main islands with littler ones mostly near the bigger islands. two islands belong to the humans and two belong to the elves with the last island being mostly neutral.

there’s been a war going on between the humans and elves for as long as anyone can remember. while they may not be actively fighting there’s a lot of hostility and distrust. no one exactly knows how it started.

elves are split up into two sub races: Sylvestrean elves and Mageian elves. elves specialized in their own type of magic over a long period of time, creating the difference between the sub races. Sylvestrean elves are in touch with nature, their powers based on the elements and all that is living. Mageian elves focus on more abstract magic, usually a something that enhances a skill and is something that they’ve developed and passed down through their family.

regardless of sub race, elves have an increased life expectancy compared to humans and age slower. they worship the moon goddess Ela and worship of any other god is a punishable offense. while they aren’t as developed technically compared to humans especially the Mageian elves are catching up. most of the elven states/countries/regions are ruled by nobility.

humans despite being one race are much more of a mixed bag than elves. some humans live like they’re form medieval times, but on the other end of the spectrum there’s human who live in a sort of steam punk society. they also have no innate magical abilities but can practice magic through other means and are thereby also not limited to one thing. this however is generally frowned upon and will even get you a prison sentence in some places.

humans generally live a way shorter life than elves. they worship the sun god Sol, though there’s also some that will pray to Ela since laws surrounding religion are less strict. humans have all sorts of governments, there is no one way to do it. due to that humans are far less united than elves.

Lavern Levesque (they/he, 24)

pirate captain of ship the Levesque (though if you ask anyone in their crew they’ll tell you he’s usually too busy tinkering to care about what direction they’re sailing). former trust fund baby (parents were no1 wine exporters in the nation) but after their entire family got burnt to a crisp in a fire that may or may not have been caused by the mafia they’ve been homeless and on the run. at some point in his homelessness career he and the rag tag group of friends he collected over the years stole the Levesque from some poor chap who was doing business. that was when Lavern Levesque was truly born. ever since he’s been busy scamming the rich and robbing the snobbiest they can find. (they’re also in a committed relationship with the daughter of one of the people he tried to scam- oops??)

Ida (she/her, 26)

formerly part of the mafia (that’s gonna be a real awkward conversation with Lavern at some point) and currently on the run. with little options she’s been doing a lot of physical labor for whoever will hire her which finally led her to the Levedque. due to the captain’s lack of involvement with hiring she didn’t know who she was going to work under, which led to an uncomfortable realization. ever since she’s been hiding her past and trying to get over her middle child related trauma (imagine having 8 siblings and you’re exactly in the middle, yeesh) as well as living with the guilt that she was in fact a part of the reason Lavern’s family is dead.

Hedvig (they/it, ??)

not much too say about their past since they suffer from heavy memory loss and barely remember their name. it has a suspicious amount of buried combat knowledge though and magic that lets them shape whatever they want into any form as long as the matter is non-living. was found by Eleanor (she’ll pop up later) on her parent’s ship and immediately left a bad impression by being scarred, wet and not speaking the common language.

Finn (he/they/she, 16-18)

he’s honestly just a poor little guy. he was the product of an affair between a human and an elf, which since a young age put a huge target on his back. despite trying to hide it Finn could never fit in with his peers or even his family. his step father resented him and his mother wasn’t in a position to defend him. this all reached its boiling point when he was about eleven years old and was put on a ship to another island. unfortunately, his ship got caught in a storm and he washed up on the shore of a dangerous island. ever since he’s been stuck, the island’s forest having all sorts of dangers. he’s seen countless people wash up, attempt to leave or get resources and get killed by the island’s mysterious forces. his survival has relied solely on what has washed up and what little he could find.

Elanor Sylvian (she/they, 32)

part of the royal Sylvestrean family, she’s the eldest daughter of the king and queen. she was raised to be the next queen, not exactly having a childhood or many friends. as ruler she would’ve been responsible for making sure the nobles under her were doing their jobs well. she set out with her parents to a meeting between nobles which was when she found Hedvig on the ship. due to her having studied many languages she luckily could understand Hedvig, who only spoke in a which was thought to be extinct Mageian dialect.

[rkwendy]

The night is deep at Haeundae | Solo

Wendy Seungwan Son — Nova Ent Evaluation, May 2017 Song: 해운대 엘레지 (Haeundae Elegy - 2:57-3:37, 5:14-5:43)

Improvisation... using her strongest skill. In other words, this means singing on the spot. Oh, she has to sing acapella on the spot, with a song of her choice. No problem at all.

Being forced in surprise situations wasn’t new to her. After all, she just survived a surprise exam yesterday. She should have known her trainers had something up their sleeves the when they were avoiding all questions about monthly evaluations.

The real challenge was trying to find a song that will show off her vocals and prove her usual ability to think rationally under high-pressure situations. She shuffles through her things trying not to let panic show on her face as she fishes for a pen and her notebook. She needs to visualize her list before she narrows it down to her ideal song choice. She’s got several songs in her head, and she needs all the time in the world to strategize and figure things out.

She keeps a straight face as she scribbles her ideas on her notebook. Her coaches cannot see her trying to sprint for that perfect idea. She is a smart, rational young woman, and she will not succumb to pressure. She mutters under her breath in English as she crosses off several songs from her list. Being far back in the alphabet gives her enough time to think and plan. She ignores the other trainees’ looks as she continues to cross of songs from her list. This is an advantage she shouldn’t squander.

She can easily just go for any hit song at the moment, but that’s what her coaches will expect. That’s what others will sing. But Wendy Son isn't one to go for a generic song choice. She needs a song that will make her stand out. She wants to keep surprising her coaches and her fellow trainees. She’s not just a one-trick pony confined to one genre. Time is running out and she still hasn’t settled for a perfect song. Every idea she gets, another trainee ahead of her beats her to it. Cursing under her breath, she scribbles more furiously than before, cursing herself and her rotten luck.

They’re getting further down the alphabet, and Wendy’s eyes land on a piece she remembers practicing. She isn’t very confident with singing in this style yet, but she has to give it a shot. Time is running out, and she’s still drawing a blank regarding song choices. This is it. She’s made her decision.

Now that she’s a little bit calmer and secure in her song choice, she looks up to see that she’s dumped most of her things on Ricky oppa in her quest to get to her pen and paper. Shit. She then looks up to see Huidong sunbaenim looking at her like she’s grown three heads. Oops? She owes them both cookies for this slight trauma.

She’s a lot calmer now than she was earlier by the time they call her name.

She adjusts the microphone stand to match her height. She’s got nothing to lose at this point.

She’s ready.

울던 물새도 어데로 가고       The crying waterfowl is now gone 조각달도 기울고         The cresent moon has set

Singing in the traditional style is an art not many can master. This is a huge risk Wendy is taking, and it’s time to see whether this pays off. This idea was a last minute thing, but she hopes the way she singing makes it look like she prepared for this. 

바다마저도 잠이 들었나         Even the sea seems to be asleep 밤이 깊은 해운대      The night is deep at Haeundae

The thing with singing in Bangulmok style is that it involves a lot of throat-rolling.  In this form of singing, she does not use resonation techniques. The singer uses chest muscles and produces sound directly from the throat. This has been a bit of a struggle before, and this is a good time for Wendy to show she’s improved her technique as well. 

나도 가련다 떠나가련다        I’m going. I’m leaving too 아픈 마음 안고서       With a broken heart

Wendy starts belting out at this point, forgetting shes being evaluated. She imagines that she’s just at the noraebang with her friends and they’re all singing like it’s nobody’s business. She figures she’ll be laughed at for her song choices, but she might as well have fun. To her relief, she hits the high notes perfectly, without sounding like she ran out of breath.

Her voice is prepared to take on the last part of the song. She has to be, or else, she’s doomed. 

정든 백사장 정든 동백섬    I’ll miss the white sand and Dongbaeksom Island 안녕히 잘 있거라       Goodbye, take care

She whispers the last part, bidding an imaginary lover goodbye. Or probably, not so imaginary, as she recalls both her failed attempts at romance. She lets out a sigh of relief and pumps her fists in the air. It’s over. However, in her haste to get off the stage, she doesn’t realize that her shoelaces are undone, until she steps on them. As she attempts to balance herself, she knocks the mic stand down. She catches it before it can hit the floor. Oops. 

She hopes no one caught that on video or something. Everyone’s going to use this story on her for years. 

That is... if Nova ever decides to let her debut.