#so if i stick with this job and enroll in their thing i guess i get my pick of the litter for surgeons!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keanureevesisbae · 3 years ago

Text

But professor… - c.2

Summary: Penny continues to have some questions about the assignment, but thankfully professor Marshall is right there to help her out

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next Chapter

My second criminology class, I was feeling a bit under the weather, but like the real die hard that I am, confusing to give in and rest (which would’ve be the better idea), I continued to go to class. I hid part of my face behind my scarf, while I would take a sip of my tea every now and then. I barely absorbed anything that class and professor Marshall must’ve noticed, because he didn’t call for me the entire class.

Thankfully.

But now I feel better and am going to make up for my lack of attention last class. While the the class can be pretty gore, it has become my favorite class, partially because I really like professor Marshall.

No wait, solely because I like professor Marshall.

I don’t want to admit it, but I kinda went out of my way to look presentable for class. I spend my entire life being invisible, unnoticed, but that’s not the case in this class. It’s nice to be acknowledged (I could do without Fitzgerald, who continues to creepily stare from a distance). I put on some lipstick, that matches my blush pink sweater.

Professor Marshall looks up from his notes when I walk in the lecture hall, one corner of his mouth curled up a bit. ‘Morning,’ he says, his tone low and brass.

‘Good morning,’ I say softly, walking towards my assigned seat. Since last class happened in a blur, I am going to pay extra attention to this one.

It is hard though, to focus. We have to understand the crime scene, trying to dissect what happened exactly. However, all the blood, fake or not, makes me want to vomit. I swallow hard and thankfully professor Marshall is skipping over me.

Until…

‘Miss Townsend,’ the professor says, ‘overlap between the victims. I want at four points.’

Four points? Is he for real? That’s a lot. I hate that I made a sort of good point the first class. I have to live up to that expectation now.

Think, Penny, think. ‘All victims are fathers,’ I start, ‘white collar workers and have a brunette wife.’ I try to remember what he told us about and what I read prior to this class. ‘They had affairs with someone they worked with, someone who worked a job that paid less than theirs.’

‘And what does that tell you?’

‘The killer has a type,’ I say, but from the looks of it, he wants more. ‘The victims are carefully picked out, maybe because… These men remind the killer of someone?’

He nods. ‘Exactly.’

I let out a deep relieved sigh, knowing that there is a possibility that he won’t pick me again. I see Fitzgerald looking over his shoulder, to basically gawk at me. He is going out of his way to say intelligent stuff during classes, but everything that leaves his lips is… Bullshit.

After the class ended, I stay for a bit, because of course I have another question. I might not be entirely stupid, but academically gifted is not applicable to me. ‘Professor Marshall,’ I say, as I walk towards him.

‘Miss Townsend,’ he says, ‘you did well today in class.’

‘Oh.’ Stupid me, blushing again. ‘Thank you. I have another question about the assignment.’

‘Why?’

Did he seriously just asked me why? I start to stammer a bit, taken aback from his retort. How am I supposed to answer that? Maybe just stick with the truth? ‘Because I don’t understand.’

‘What don’t you understand?’

‘The case I chose,’ I say.

‘You have time at four?’ he asks. ‘To meet me in my office? I can help you out.’

I nod with a smile. I am going to his office! ‘Yes, thank you, sir.’

‘Where are your glasses?’ he asks, placing the presenter on the table.

He noticed that I wasn’t wearing my glasses today? Is it because I look stupid without them? ‘In my bag,’ I answer. ‘I sometimes switch between lenses and glasses. Why?’

Professor Marshall shrugs. ‘Just wondering. See you at four. Sharp.’

✎ ✎ ✎

I knock on professor Marshall’s office door at four sharp (I mean, he felt the need to emphasis it, so I should be on time, right?) and he says: ‘Come in.’ I open the door, to see him sitting behind his desk.

‘Is that… a chair?’ I ask, pointing to the pretty comfortable looking chair on the my side of the desk.

Professor Marshall nods. ‘I didn’t want you to stand,’ he says. ‘Don’t get used to it though. I plan on removing this thing as soon as you leave.’ He smirks. ‘It gives me the creeps. I usually don’t like people hanging around in my office. Whether that is at NYU or the MPD.’

I take a seat and blink my eyes a few times. Gosh, I don’t think I have ever wore my lenses this long and they start to hurt a bit. Just keep them in for a few more moments. Be subtle. ‘My question is about the literature.’

Professor Marshall tilts his head. ‘Are you okay, miss— Penny?’

Apparently I’m not at all subtle. ‘Just my lenses, that’s it.’

‘You can take them out. Please, go ahead.’

Thankfully I brought my stuff with me and I grab my bag, searching for my glasses and lenses case. ‘The literature that is required for the assignment… There isn’t a list provided by you and I have a hard time finding some.’ I remove one of my lenses and continue to take out the other. Gosh, the relief. I put the glasses on and place both cases in the backpack.

‘I can email you a list of literature you can use,’ he says. ‘Why is it giving you difficulties?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, professor.’

‘Walter,’ he says.

Huh? ‘Excuse me, what?’

‘It’s after school,’ he continues, ‘so you can quit with calling me professor and start calling me Walter, okay?’

Walter. Seems so personal, so intimate. Not complaining at all, if I’m being honest. I nod. ‘Okay, I’ll try.’

‘Why did you choose psychology, Penny?’ he asks.

That’s a deep question. It’s almost like a first date (if I have to believe the movies, because yours truly never went on a date in her life). Why does he even care? ‘My parents thought it was important I went to university. They wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, but I’m not that intellectually gifted. Besides, psychology might give me more of an idea of who I am or what I am. I traveled after high school, hoping to figure out who I am, but so far, no luck.’

Professor Marshall nods. ‘And you think criminology is gonna help you with that?’

I chuckle. ‘No, it’s not. Originally, I wanted to go for the child psychology course, to see if I could understand myself better through that, but I missed the enrolling date. It was either criminology or animal behavior.’

‘Animal behavior? That’s a course?’

‘Mhm.’

He nods. ‘Well, you’re really good in criminology,’ he says. ‘We could’ve used you in the force.’

I run my fingers through my hair and smile nervously. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You noticed the droopy eyelid. Took detectives long enough before they realized that.’

‘Lucky guess.’

Professor Marshall leans back in his seat. ‘You’ve got to stop undermining yourself,’ he notes. ‘You are sharp, notice the details. You have a lot of potential, in this field or any other. I think you just don’t know it yet.’

My cheeks heat up. Is he saying what I think he is saying? ‘Really?’

He nods. ‘Really,’ he confirms. The professor keeps looking at me, but weirdly enough I don’t feel uncomfortable. ‘Tell me something what you want to find out about yourself.’

I clear my throat. ‘I don’t know yet.’

‘Tell me something about yourself then,’ he says. ‘Something that’s a foundation for who you are.’

I bite my lip and try to think of something. What is a foundation of who I am? ‘Well,’ I say, after contemplating for a moment or two, ‘I was adopted after I was left at a Catholic church doorstep when I was few hours old. I was brought to a hospital, where they found out I was a premature baby with heroin in my blood. They never discovered who my parents were.’

‘Oh, Penny,’ he says. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He is sorry for me? I bite my lip, before I say: ‘My adoptive parents are sweet, they really are, but I’m scared sometimes.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, because if I’m that unloveable at a few hours old, I bet I’ll become that later on, you know? Especially when they will find out that I might not even work in this field, because it’s not where my heart is.’

He places his underarms on his desk, folding his hands together. ‘You’re not unloveable,’ he says in a soft tone, ‘you could never be.’

I smile. ‘We’ll just have to see about that.’

The professor squints his eyes for a few seconds, almost as if he is trying to figure me out without asking anymore questions. ‘Tell me, what field has your heart?’

‘Cosmetology school,’ I say. ‘I know, a huge downgrade from this, but… I love stuff like that.’

He is smiling at me. ‘It’s not a downgrade,’ he says, his town a bit lower than before. ‘I bet you would be great at it.’

I clear my throat, a bit taken aback by the impromptu therapy session. ‘Thank you, Walter, for answering my questions. I feel like I’m bombarding you with questions to a point where it gets annoying.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it, you could never annoy me.’ He grabs a piece of paper and writes something down on it, as I stand up. ‘Here.’

‘What’s that?’

‘My number. If you have another question or anything else, you can always text or call me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Of course I have another question. Is it inappropriate to ask this much time and attention of your professor? I almost think it is, but I really want to understand the assignment and my other teachers aren’t as nice as Walter.

While I wish I wasn’t doing this entire major, I do want to prove myself, especially in my criminology class. I don’t want to let him down.

Oh my, have I taken an interest in my professor? That would be improper behavior, right? Isn’t this totally illegal?

Well, my feelings aren’t and he does not feel the same way, so nothing will happen anyway. No need to think about the illegality of the situation when it’ll never get that far.

I grab my phone nonetheless and the piece of paper and add him to my contacts as Walter. I check his profile picture. It’s a slightly blurry photo of Walter sitting in a police car, but even through the blurry pixels, I can still recognize him. The same type of sweater. The messy curls, the beard and the deep frown between his thick brows.

Me: Professor Marshall, can I ask you something?

Me: This is Penny btw

Walter: What did I tell you, Penny?

Me: Oh, I’m sorry

Me: Walter

Walter: Atta girl

My eyes widen as I read his text, while my heart skips a few beats. ‘Oh,’ I whisper to myself. This is making me slightly giddy. What is happening here?

Walter: What’s your question?

Me: I’m still having troubles with the literature

Me: You know what? I’m sorry, I am totally asking to much of your time and I shouldn’t do that.

Me: Forget it, I’m sorry

Walter: No, no, no, Penny, it’s alright.

Walter: I gave you my number, remember?

Me: Right…

Walter: The literature is your only question?

Me: Yes

Me: It’s just a lot and I don’t know which piece of literature is applicable to my case

Walter: You had case four, right?

Me: Yes

Walter: I’ll send you a list of the literature you can use

Me: You sure it’s not too much?

Walter: I’m sure

✎ ✎ ✎

During my counseling skills class I am in the back of the lecture hall and heavily distracted. This professor is incredibly boring and really enjoys hearing himself talk. However, I’m occupied enough. Since there is no on behind or next to me, I open another tab on my laptop, to see I have yet another message from Walter.

Yes, I said Walter. I’m not in class, so it’s not professor Marshall.

Walter: Still in class?

Me: Yes, still am.

Me: What are you doing?

Walter: Consulting on a case for the NYP

Me: Do you miss working for the police force?

Walter: I do

Me: Why aren’t you working for the police now?

Walter: I’m suspended

Me: Do I want to know what you did?

Walter: I may or may not have yelled at some guy, thrown around some chairs during interrogation.

Walter: Thanks to me we solved the case though

Me: Remind me to always be on your good side 😅 😅

Walter: You are, Penny

Walter: Don’t you worry 😉

Me: Do you enjoy being a teacher?

Walter: No, not in the slightest

Walter: How are your assignments holding up?

Me: It’s going okay… It’s just a lot.

Walter: I bet

Me: It kinda feels like I’m drowning

Me: Already

Walter: You need help?

Me: I can’t ask that of you

Walter: You didn’t ask, I offered.

Me: Okay detective 🙄

Walter: Did you just roll your eyes at me?

Me: No, sir, I didn’t 🙈

Walter: I can help you out, I promise

Me: Where?

Walter: My loft?

Me: Your loft?

Walter: Yes, I can pick you up from somewhere

Me: You have crime scene pictures around your place?

Walter: I’ll have them gone by the time you get there

#walter marshall #walter marshall fanfic #walter marshall x ofc #walter marshall x oc #walter marshall x asian ofc #walter marshall x penny townsend #asian ofc #penny townsend #henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x penny townsend #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #but professor

156 notes · View notes

roseredsnow · 9 months ago

Text

Wanted to chip in that my cousins are homeschooled and while it helped the oldest it did not help the other three.

M, 20 this year diagnosed autistic at like 7

T 18 this year

Z and R twins 16 I think this year, once my aunt mentioned she thinks Z might be autistic but never followed it up as far as I know.

So when M was young he was having a lot of trouble in school, like physically throwing furniture, he was eventually put in a specialist school but even with that my aunt decided it was best he was homeschooled.

So she homeschooled all four of them with three different ages and three different things they should be learning, not to mention her (now ex) husband barely helped to take care of them and she lives about three hours from all our family so none of us can just like drop by to help.

At one point the younger three were enrolled back into public school and doing well, infact R was doing so well in maths they were running out of things to teach him.

My aunt for some reason took this as a reason to go back to homeschooling and they fell behind again.

So now while yes homeschooling mayve been better for M my aunt never made sure he found some other way to make friends himself.

T seems to be doing well, he's got a job and is taking driving lessons which considering he used to be an absolute terror to me massive improvement.

R and Z I don't really know last I saw was R last Christmas.

All of them used to at least mostly stick in their rooms when stopping at our grandparents and not interact much.

Basically what I'm trying to say is completely agree its child dependent, but also parent dependent I guess, like are they gonna make sure all needs are met and skills developed that are usually learned through school.

(She does also have a new boyfriend who I haven't met yet but is apparently making an effort to try and help M)

Is anyone out here arguing that there are pros and cons to public schooling and homeschooling which depend a. On the actual methods of schooling used in both scenarios and b. On the child and what would be best for them? Or is it just me and the centrist goblin?

254 notes · View notes

ysapawithfeelings · 2 years ago

Text

From Basher to Believer

I’d always been on the slender side from when I was a kid until I graduated from college. When I started working and adult life happened, my metabolism started to slow down. I had minimal movement and maximum exposure to all the food I could ever want in the world. When I turned 25, that was when gaining weight happened regularly for me, and family and friends began to notice. In hindsight, I wish I did something about it the first time it was called out, but of course, I dismissed the ‘harsh’ observations at the time, and I was probably in denial too.

By 28, I was officially overweight. This did not come as a surprise. However, I was also diagnosed with polycystic ovaries (PCOS), a hormonal disorder common among women of reproductive age. This condition was also a contributing factor to my rapid weight gain. My sugar was at a pre-diabetic level, and my cholesterol was sky-high. I started taking maintenance medicines for these – Metformin, Atorvastatin, and contraceptive pills. My OB kept saying these weren’t enough. I needed to exercise and stick to a healthy diet. I did not budge. Maybe it was a combination of stress at work, lack of time, and yes, laziness. I would rather sleep or hang out with friends than strain a muscle on my free time (which was not exactly abundant)—if you get my drift.

By 30, I was at 185 pounds and was diagnosed with obesity. In fact, dark spots suddenly appeared on my feet, as a result of “popped veins” because my feet could barely carry my weight. I would crash diet for several days and then resume eating unhealthily. I would also get nauseous from time to time because I also had anemia. The weakness and fatigue were palpable. People around me expressed concern more and more often. Some suggested that I go to the gym, but I silently sneered at the thought of ever going there. Because I didn’t know better then, I silently mocked those who would post workout photos, when in truth, they were worth emulating. They took care of themselves the best way they can, and not everyone had the will power to do so.

When I turned 33 and I got retrenched from my previous job at the height of the pandemic along with thousand others, I suddenly had too much time on my hands. All the books were read; all the errands were accomplished; all the chores were done. I guess I felt so sad and empty that buying a stationary bike online seemed like a good idea. That was the first thing I purchased from my separation pay. Side trivia: I never learned to ride a bike without the training wheels because my parents were overprotective when I was a child. At least now I could ride a bike without falling flat on my face. 😊

It was probably around July 2020 when I started doing indoor cycling for about 20-30 minutes a day. On days that were extra dull and lonesome, I would pedal for an hour until I couldn’t feel my legs. That got me exhausted enough to sleep earlier at night. That was also the beginning of things changing for the better. I also decided to be more carefully aware on the kind of food I ate, but I never really excluded carbs and desserts. I still drink milktea as much as I’d like—but with lower sugar level.

By the end of 2020, I was able to lose 28 pounds, then 35, then 45 in the ensuing year. Whenever I’d get bored with cycling, I would search for easy home exercises on Youtube. I bought an exercise mat (which is quite tattered now), and I also did Zumba. I highly recommend MadFit! I didn’t do crazy-hard exercise routines that I knew I wouldn’t enjoy. I wanted to move, but I also wanted to keep it fun. I also chose the music that best resonated with my soul while exercising. The amazing thing was, I just didn’t feel lighter on the outside—I also felt lighter inside.

Several months after I got hired by Accenture, I decided to enroll at Anytime Fitness, so I could still exercise on some nights after work. I’ve never been happier to realize just how wrong and ignorant I was back then about people who went to the gym. It was a slap on the face for the judgmental person I used to be. Devoting time at the gym was not easy at all. I’d get lazy every now and then, and I'd bail, but whenever I did go, I felt physically (and even emotionally) better.

These days, my weight has gone on plateau, but the important thing is to keep moving—no matter how minimal. I have to admit, there are days I feel sheer frustration when I see that I’m gaining some pounds again, but I proactively remind myself that I’ve come a long way, and that’s enough. I’m still a work-in-progress, and I just want to embrace this journey, wherever it may lead me. It also makes me happy being able to fit in my old clothes again. A small win is still a win, and slow progress is still progress.

So to conclude this rather long story, and if you’re still reading at this point (thank you), I guess here are the “best learnings” I can share:

Something always seems impossible, until it isn’t. It’s hard to start, but all worthwhile things have to start somewhere.

Go at your own pace. Rushing to meet your goal will only birth frustration.

Don’t keep checking the weighing scale. The more important thing to check is how your body feels. The body never lies.

In losing weight, you also begin to realize you’re losing the weight of other people’s opinions that never really mattered. You do you.

It’s not always a bad thing to remember the past. Looking back reminds you of how far you’ve come. The first person who should be proud of yourself is you!

“And I said to my body, softly, ‘I want to be your friend.’ It took a long breath, and replied, ‘I have been waiting my whole life for this.’” ~ Nayyirah Waheed

#fitness #exercise #workout #health #health and wellness #transformation #mantra #progress #healthy lifestyle #wellness

2 notes · View notes

jamieatthebarricade · 4 years ago

Text

Maids to Wives

An Outlander AU based loosely on the TV Show and real life in the historic Jamestown

In 1619, one hundred and forty-four English women from good families crossed the Atlantic in response to the Virginia Company of London’s call for maids “young and corrupt” to make wives for the planters of it’s new colony in Virginia. One in six of the maids could even claim gentry status. Although promised a free choice of husband, they were in effect being traded into marriage for a bride price of 150 pounds of best leaf tobacco, the profits to flow to individual investors

In 1619, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp made the voyage to do one thing: marry a man she's never met. But when she arrives, she comes to the startling realization that her heart belongs to someone else, a certain James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.

Chapter 1/? : Aboard The Ship

April 17th, 1619, Claire’s POV

“I feel like my innards are swasheling ‘bout” Geillis hacked out her dinner for the 4th time this week. I tried my best to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders lightly, but the smell of old fish and stomach acid from the other’s puking made it hard to keep anything down. Most of us hadn't been on a boat before, let alone in the middle of the ocean where the monstrous waves led to monstrous waves of sea sickness. It took all my strength not to succumb to the churn in my own stomach. Poor Geillis didn't have the same strength as I.

Geillis was one of the first women I met on this voyage. Me and her bonded over our love of herbs and our older age. She has become one of my closest friends on this trek to find my future husband.

My Husband. The word had only rolled off my tongue a few times in my life, but suddenly it was my entire world. It was all the ladies talked about, all they thought of, all they could remember dreaming about. But, the rest of the women on the ship were different from me, and from Geillis too: they were young, and they were trained. Geillis and I were the eldest of all the brides -she being 31 and I being 27- and didn’t receive the same education as the rest of the girls. I myself spent my childhood traveling Europe with my Uncle Lamb, not learning how to be a good wife that could keep house. Perhaps if my parents hadn’t died when I was so young they could have instilled the passion for housekeeping in me, but a childhood under my Uncle’s influence assuredly led to the demise of any interest in such things. He even tried to enroll me in a dame school, but I refused. Can you imagine? Years of learning how to sew and knit and cook. I couldn’t think of a more revolting thing. I had longed to continue to travel with Uncle Lamb, as his career as an antiquarian required him to do, and so he had no choice but to keep me by his side. I imagine him beside me now, as if this voyage was just like any other: exploring new lands with curiosity and excitement.

As Geillis continued to empty her stomach, I scanned the cabin, seeing some of the younger girls on the ship playing a card game. Their eyes lit a bright light inside of them when they got a good hand, and their smiles sparkled like pearls in the faint lantern light. Despite the ship muck they resided in, they still radiated beauty and grace. That and their training would make them excellent wives.

Perhaps I should have let Uncle Lamb enroll me in that Dame school, I thought as I turned back to check on Geillis. Even though I got to choose the man I married, there was no guarantee that my husband would keep me when he found out how many skills I lacked. But no man could be so cruel, could he? While it made no sense to wish for a kind husband, I still did, as did all the women. I could only hope that my husband would be caring, smart, and understanding (and have a face and body with equally desirable qualities, but both together was the most rare of all).

A tug on Geillis’s hair called me back to reality. It seemed the sickness had faded for a moment or two, enough for her to speak. “Claire, I swear to ye, if I don’t make it on this ship, bury me in the new world. I dinna care if my flesh sticks up the whole bloody ship, I wilna be thrown to the sea, like a bone to a dog”

“You’re not gonna die Geillis, it’s only 3 more weeks till the captains said we'll see land. If you die on this ship, I swear to you I’ll kill you” My remark managed to stifle a chuckle from Geillis’s sickly body. She smiled at me, and then her moment of peace was over: she went back to being sick almost immediately. I never found myself in the comfort of women, but Geillis was like a sister to me. Spending a month at sea in tight quarters did that to a friendship.

Geillis wasn’t the only friend I made on the ship. To my left sat 15 year old Mary Hawkins, the youngest of the maids. Mary was just… small. A small frame and small face were the most startling of her features, and the month on the ship caused an almost deadly thinning of her figure. When she spoke, the words came in small stutters, and any movement made her jump. When I first saw her I wondered how Mary could have thought she could survive the trek across the ocean; that was, until I found out being a maid was her father’s scheme. After finding this out, a sisterly urge surged inside me, and I was her protector on the voyage ever since. And as her protector, I saw her shivering as I helped Geillis, and moved my arm from Geillis’s back to around Mary’s shoulders. She gladly nestled herself into my side, but the shaking didn’t stop.

“A-am I going to die here, C-Claire?” She stuttered out. I quickly shook my head and turned to look down at her. I saw tears running down her face, but she didn’t look me in the eyes. She kept her gaze on the wall across from us, where a woman who looked the most sick of all rested her head. She didn’t look alive anymore, but with closer examination I saw her chest rose ever so slightly. I made a mental note to check on her later, if she hadn’t already died. So far, 34 women have died. While the cause of death varied from maid to maid, it was all from the same sickness that plagued our ship since the beginning of the second week aboard. Not all the women were victims, but the ones that were died swiftly and in immense pain. But, for every maid that died here, the same amount of men were left without a bride, and that would mean another wave of maids. I couldn’t imagine putting more girls through this hell. I was fortunate to be well, and above all else, alive.

“No, you’re not. You’re gonna leave the ship with us and meet your husband.” I rubbed Mary’s shoulders gently. I felt her breath loosen, and she slumped slightly. Good, I thought. She fell asleep

I then stayed with Geillis until her nausea faded. After cleaning her up using my dress as a rag, I laid her down and watched her drift to sleep. I touched my hand to her forehead, and was thankful for not feeling any unusual temperature. I removed my arm from Mary’s shoulders, and slowly set her down near Geillis’ head. I tucked a small bag of grain beneath both of their heads, and thankfully none of them awoke from their slumber. I looked across the cabin and saw the pale woman from before. She hadn’t changed positions, but her chest still rose and fell like before. I moved in front of her, and placed my hand on her forehead. Hot. Burning hot. I shook her awake, and when she opened her eyes, they were bloodshot.

“Will... you tell my husband that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to make it” The sentence flowed out like any other statement, but the meaning behind it was darker.. She was a young woman, nearly 23 I guessed. Her hair was a soft blonde, and she had a pleasing aura about her. I could also tell she was quite pretty, underneath the sweat and sickness. Her hair stuck around her face, but she had the complexion of a sheet of paper. She was transparent, the veins of her body stuck out harshly against her pale face. When she spoke, it came out in a low whisper, as if her body didn’t have the willpower to use any strength.

“I’m Faith” She flashed a quick but weak attempt at a smile. I wished there was something I could do, to give her the strength that had saved me these past weeks. I reached beside her to grab a rag, in hopes of maybe wiping away the heat, but she put her hands over mine.

“Make the new world good for us” She spoke, before closing her eyes. Everything happened so suddenly, I could barely register it all. The minute she closed her eyes, any color that was left in her face disappeared. The rising of her chest stopped, and a hand fell limply from mine.

I removed myself immediately, and sat next to Geillis. She stirred in her sleep before sitting up, tired. She must’ve heard what had happened, because just as I sat down she put her arm around mine. I wanted to cry, to feel some kind of pity for the woman, but nothing came out. ‘You should mourn her’ my brain told me but how could I? I just met her.

I didn’t have time to be like this. In a few short weeks we would be on the island with the men, living in the new world. Instead of feeling pity, I felt a sense of guilt. Out of nearly 100 women, only a few would step off this ship and into a new life. And I was one of them. Why did I get the luxury? I wasn’t ever a quiet, obeying miss, and I don’t think I could ever be. Why did god and those above think me fit to take on the responsibility of marriage? Faith would’ve probably made a fantastic wife, but here she lies dead by my feet and I am still breathing.

These thoughts ran rampant in my mind, so much so they exhausted me, and I felt myself roused into a deep slumber, with Geillis’ arm still around me and the soft breathing of the living filling my ears, reminding me I was still alive, that we all were. We bore the weight and responsibility of those who didn’t live, it was our job to make the new world good and prosperous.

- - - - - - - - - -

Hello everyone! This is my first chapter of a fanfiction I’m looking forward to writing! I’m a fairly new author so if everyone could be kind/give solid constructive criticism, that would be amazing! I’m looking forward to hopefully releasing more chapters later on!

#outlander fanfic #Outlander #Claire Beauchamp #Claire Fraser #james alexander malcolm mackenzie fraser #Jamie Fraser #jamestown au #Outlander AU #Outlanderrr #;maids to wives #;my_works

150 notes · View notes

beelsnack · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your blog❣ Can I request a brother + undatables ( if you do that) reaction with a very obedient mc? Like they do everything they've been asking and stuff? Thank you in advance!❣❣

Aw, thanks a bunch, Nonnie! This will be a good test for me, since I usually end up writing snarky characters who fight authority. I hope you like it!

I’m going to stick this under a cut because it, uh, got away from me a little bit. I didn’t even do all of the undateables and I was over 3k. ^^”

Lucifer: “I’m sorry to keep piling tasks on you.”

With a grunt, the human set the heavy stack of books down on the table in Lucifer’s study. “It’s alright, I don’t mind.”

Lucifer let his professional mask slip for just a second to smile warmly at them. “If only my brothers were as agreeable as you.”

“At least they provide entertainment.” they laughed. “What are all these books, anyway?”

“Old spell books,” he removed the top book off of the stack, unleashing a cloud of dust that sent the human into a coughing fit. “In desperate need of some maintenance.”

“That sounds more like Satan’s territory.” they rasped as the couching subsided.

“It usually is, but I don’t need to give him any more ideas for his curses.” despite his words, there was a glint of fond humor is his eyes. “If you aren’t busy, could you give me a hand with these?”

“Sure!” they took a seat in the armchair across from Lucifer. “I’ve been studying all day, so I ind of need a break.”

“Oh? An dutiful helper and a diligent student?” he hummed, smoothing out the crease of a page that had been marked with a dog-ear. “I may just have to reward you.”

“What kind of reward?”

“Hm...” he pinned them with a heavily-lidded stare. “Anything you want. What kind of reward do you desire?”

“...Ice cream!”

Lucifer couldn’t hold back his surprised snort before he quickly devolved into laughter. “My, but you do know how to surprise me, my dear. Very well, a trip to Madam Scream’s as a reward, then.”

Mammon: They looked really tired.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Promise!” Asmo was tugging insistently on their sleeve like a child begging for their parent’s attention. “You’ve never been to a club like the Fall, I guarantee it. It’s the perfect place to get up to something naughty ~”

Alright, that’s it.

“Oi, Asmo!” Mammon rounded on the other demon. “Quit trying to drag the human along with your gross BS!”

“Oh, but it’s fine when you do it?” Asmo shot back, amber eyes narrowing. “At least I’m not conning people out of cash.”

“Whatever!” Mammon grabbed onto the human’s upper arm, shaking Asmo’s hands off of their sleeve. “Come on, human, I need you to help me with somethin’.”

“Whoa, okay, um...maybe next time Asmo.” they managed to get out before Mammon dragged them into his room and slammed the door.

He was muttering under his breath so quickly and quietly that the human could just barely make out a few phrases. “...fuckin’ Asmo...advantage of...where does he get off...”

“Uh, Mammon?” they asked hesitantly. “You said you needed my help with something?”

“Huh?” he whipped around, looking slightly startled. “Oh. Nah, I was just sayin’ that so Asmo would let you go.”

They blinked, tilting their head like a puppy. “Why would you do that?”

“Come on, human, don’t lie to me,” he rolled his eyes, hands on hips. “You don’t want to go clubbing after spending the day running around like Lucifer’s little servant, do ya? You look like you’re about ready to pass out.”

Instinctively, their hand shot up to beneath their eyes, where there were some pretty prominent bags. “...Do I look that bad?”

Mammon flinched. “No! That’s not - I didn’t mean - ya look tired!” he scratched at the back of his neck. “It’ll look bad on me if you keel over from exhaustion, and since you can’t seem to say no to anyone, I’m gonna have to do it for you!”

For a moment, they just stared at him. Then, slowly, a big grin spread across their face and they stepped forward to wrap their arms around his middle. They only came up to his collarbone, and he was suddenly very aware of this fact.

“Thank you, Mammon.”

“F-For what?”

They laughed, squeezing him a little bit tighter. “For looking out for me.”

He stilled for a moment before resting his chin on top of their head and returning the hug. “’S my job, ain’t it?”

Leviathan: Knock-knock-knock.

“What’s the password?”

“I’ve got your Akuzon order.”

Levi practically ripped his door off of the hinges as he flung it open. “Yes! Thank you, thank you, omg!” he was already ripping the box open, leaving the door open in his excitement.

“What did you get?” the human asked, poking their head in the doorway.

“The anime adaptation for I’m A Human Who Accidentally Enrolled In A University For Monsters But They’re The Only School That Has My Major So I Guess I’ll Stick It Out! Anime based off of dating sims usually aren’t that great, but I loved the game so much!”

They laughed. “We played it together, remember? We had that big debate on the order we should do the routes.”

“Right, yeah, we did!” Levi paused for a moment, looking down at the cover, and then back up at the human with a slightly blush on his cheeks. “Hey, um…since you went and picked it up for me, and, like, you were just as into the game as I was, so…maybe, um, you would want to watch it with me?”

“Really?” they blinked. “You sure?”

“Yeah, marathons are always better with friends.” Levi was already popping the first disk in. “Hey, go get some snacks!”

Satan: “Oh, you’re still working?”

The human glanced down at him from their position at the top of the ladder, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s taking me a bit longer than I thought.”

Lucifer has asked them to clean the library earlier that day. Well, not just them - Mammon was supposed to help, but he had oh-so-conveniently remembered that he had something else very urgent that he needed to take care of. So, here they were, five hours later.

Honestly, the library wasn’t even that dirty. But it was quite a large room, far too large for a human to clean by themself.

Satan sighed, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing I made a pit stop on the way home, then.” he set down the cardboard drink carrier in his hands. “Come down for a moment, will you?”

“Ah, yeah, just give me a sec.”

Satan heard the slight clattering of wood against wood, and looked up to the the ladder swaying slightly. The human was carefully picking their way down, seemingly painfully aware of the instability.

“Oh, here, I’ve got it.” one hand on the side of the ladder was enough to steady it, and he heard them let out a sigh of relief as they clambered down the rest of the way.

“Thanks, Satan.” they said as their feet touched the ground. “I didn’t realize it was shaking until I was already on it.”

“Mention it to Lucifer, he’ll do something about it.” Satan replied, brushing a bit of dust out of their hair. “Come on, I brought you some coffee.”

They followed him over to the table, and their eyes lit up when they saw the logo on the bag. “Starbats! Yes, thank you so much!”

“Did I get your order right?” he asked, plucking his own drink out of the carrier. “I was pretty sure, but…”

“Perfect, as always.” they beamed. “You’re the best, Satan.”

“Hey, come on, now,” there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re the one who does everything around here. Buying you coffee is the least I can do.”

Asmodeus: “Well? How did it turn out?”

The human stared at their D.D.D, brow furrowed in concentration as they studied the picture they had just taken. Asmo had texted them frantically, telling them to hurry because the light in his room was just perfect for a photoshoot and he needed a full-body shot.

“I mean, it looks good to me, but you’ve nixed every shot I’ve taken so far…”

“Let me see it then,” he hopped up from the chaise lounge that he had elegantly draped himself over. His silk bathrobe just barely covered all of the essential parts, and the human had to make it a point not to stare. Not that Asmo would mind in the slightest, but still.

“This is it, darling, this is the one!” he pressed an affectionate kiss to the side of their head. “You’re a quick learner, I knew it. Text this to me, okay? I’ll tag you on Devilgram, promise!”

“Glad I could help.” they laughed as they began making their way out of Asmo’s room.

“Hm…wait a minute.”

The paused just in front of the door. Maybe there was an issue with the picture after all? They bit at their lip, ready to question Asmo, but he pressed his deceivingly strong hands against their shoulders and shoved gently.

“Go stand by the window for a second…mm, no, not quite, sit down for me…”

Confused, they obeyed his orders. They placed themself on the window seat, one of those fancy three paneled setups with a bench in the middle.

Out of habit, they turned to look out the window. Asmo was right, it was pretty out. The full moon cast a silvery glow over everything, but it was low enough in the lavender sky that it cast long, creepily elegant shadows all over the garden below. The whole landscape just screaming Gothic novel.

For just a moment, they forgot about Asmo and turned fully to gaze out at the scenery. The Devildom was always pretty in a morose sort of way, but very rarely did they get the chance to appreciate it. They shifted to get more comfortable on the window seat, pulling their knee to their chest and wrapping their arms around it while the other foot kept their balance on the floor.

“Perfect!”

When they whipped around in shock, Asmo was grinning victoriously. “Look, look, this is perfect!”

“Did…did you just take a picture of me?”

“Mhm!” Asmo bounded over to their side and handed them his D.D.D. When had he picked it up? His robe didn’t have pockets. Shaking their head, they looked down at the photo.

“...Oh wow…”

“Right?” Asmo cooed. “Don’t you look absolutely stunning? That longing stare, the way you smile, you look like the protagonist in a paranormal romance”

They blinked down at the picture. “Can…you text this to me?”

“Of course, darling.” he said. “Oh, but let me post it to Devilgram, okay? I want everyone to be jealous of me.”

He plucked his phone out of their hands, stealing a quick kiss from their lips.

“Well call this a reward for being good and obeying orders, okay?”

Beelzebub: “Where are we going?”

It was their lunch hour at RAD, but Beel was taking them in the opposite direction. He had asked the human to come with him, but hadn’t explained where they were going. He had just linked their hands together and smiled down at them, saying it was a surprise.

Finally, he pushed open a door that lead to one of the many internal courtyards. Rose bushes scented the air around them, and a stone path led to the middle of the courtyard where a gazebo stood. As they approached, they saw an amazing array of food spread out on a blanket.

“Beel…?”

“My brothers had you running around the whole weekend.” he said, running his thumb over the back of their knuckles. “You were so busy last night you didn’t get to make your lunch for today. So I asked Barbatos to make lunch for us.”

“Aw, Beel!” they wrapped their arms around his middle and squeezed. “You’re so sweet. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I should be thanking you for taking care of us.” Beel hugged them bag, almost painfully gently so as not to squish them. “My brothers don’t appreciate you nearly as much as they should.”

“It’s fine, Beel, I don’t mind it.”

“I do, though.”

They backed away from the hug a little to look up at Beel, brows furrowed. They were about to say something, but, as usual, the moment was interrupted by a growl from his stomach. The confused expression broke into a grin, and they rejoined their hands, tugging him forward. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Belphegor: Finally, they were alone.

It was rare that Belphegor got to spend any alone time with the human. It almost made him miss being hidden away in the attic, if only for the privacy. But, today was apparently his lucky day, because when he had finally managed to drag himself out of bed, he stumbled - quite literally, he was struggling to keep both eyes open - into the human on their way back to their room.

“I mean, I’m going to be studying, but if you want to come over, you can.”

“You say that like I’m not going to be sleeping.”

They laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. He really liked their laugh, especially when it was genuine.

He was almost home free. They had just made it up the stairs when -

“There you are!”

…Damn it.

“Oh, hey Asmo.” they greeted the other demon, smiling at him. “What’s up?”

“I left my makeup bag at RAD!” Asmo wailed like someone had just kicked his pet hell hound. “I have a date tonight, and I need to get in the bath, which you know is a solid two hour process. Do you think you could be a dear and run and grab it for me?”

The human was going to agree. Belphie could see it in their eyes. They didn’t want to, clearly, but that naturally agreeable disposition usually won out in these scenarios.

“Go get it yourself, Asmo.” he drawled, draping himself over their shoulder. “You’re a grown demon, aren’t you?”

“But - “

Belphegor straightened up from his perpetual slouch, one hand remaining on the human’s shoulder while he shouldered his way past Asmo. His shrieks of irritation were abruptly cut off when Belphie slammed the door to the human’s room behind him.

“What was that for, Belphie?” the human asked.

“You were going to do it.” he shrugged. “Even though you didn’t want to.”

“Well…”

Belphie made his way over to the bed, flopping down on his side with an oh-so-graceful thwump. “I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“I don’t understand me sometimes either.” they sighed, folding their arms. “It’s like, I feel guilty for saying no even if I’m perfectly within my rights. I don’t know why.”

“Eh…” Belphie hummed, sitting up a little bit. “Well, since you can’t seem to say no, I might as well take advantage of that.”

They recoiled a little bit at the wording, but he continued, opening his arms. “Let me cuddle you.”

For a moment, they were silent, and Belphie worried he might have put his foot in it. But, slowly, a smile tugged at their lips, and they clambered into bed with him. With a soft, contented sigh, they snuggled against his chest.

“It’s about time someone else took care of you, you know?”

Diavolo: “Lucifer needs to stop making you deliver his reports for him.”

The human laughed as they handed Diavolo they manila folder containing Lucifer’s paperwork. “I don’t mind it. The scenery at the castle is amazing to look at, it gives me an excuse to walk around a little bit.”

Diavolo grinned down at them. “Always so positive! You truly do brighten the room, my dear.” his molten gold eyes shined with a bit of mischief as he extended an arm to them. “Shall I make the trip worth your while? If you love the scenery near the entrance, you’ll be absolutely enchanted with everything else.”

“Oh,” their eyes widened slightly. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” he beamed when they hesitantly linked their arm through his. “Honestly, you have enough on your plate without Lucifer using you as a mule.”

“I told you, Lord Diavolo, I don’t mind it.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he replied, leading the two of them through a door that lead to a courtyard with a rose maze. “But I didn’t bring you here to be a servant. It’s unworthy of him to take advantage of your agreeable nature, even if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.”

“I mean…” they glanced around the courtyard, avoiding Diavolo’s painfully earnest eyes. “The brothers let me stay at the House of Lamentation, so helping out wherever I can is the least I can do, isn’t it?”

“It’s not like you’re intruding.” there was a hint of laughter in Diavolo’s voice as he expertly guided the two of them through the maze. “You were deposited here with nothing but the clothes on your back, the fact that you’re thinking about paying them back is astonishing.”

He paused. They had reached the center of the maze, stopping just beneath a great stone statue of what the human assumed was a previous king, or maybe even the current one. Diavolo turned to face them and took their hand in his large one, bringing their knuckles to his lips while never breaking eye contact.

“It’s one of the many things I find so charming about you.”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo

166 notes · View notes

kookiebunnii · 4 years ago

Text

d4u || c’s get degrees

sept. 2018. this is my first time having a class with guk. we like to make bets on things to satisfy jungkook’s competitive instinct and the reward is usually food-related. i guess this quarter will be no different.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: slice of life

word count: 2.4k

warnings: n/a

sept. 2018

If there was one thing Jungkook loved, it was competition. You still remember the phase where he’d respond “bet” to anything you said, even if it made no sense.

Let’s have Chinese takeout for dinner. Bet.

Don’t forget your keys like you did last time. Bet.

If you say “bet” one more time, I’ll throw your Widowmaker mousepad out the window. Bet.

He’d always be the one to suggest playing rock, paper, scissors for the last slice of pizza, betting that if a coin turns up heads then you would have to do the dishes tonight instead, or begging you to play some new video game with him so he could 1v1 you over a large sum of five dollars. Maybe it was the adrenaline he craved or the fact that he could rarely find something he was not skilled at. However, after all the years he’s known you, he has realized that he’s finally met his match. You always watch uninterestedly as the coin lands on tails and Jungkook howls in pain over the kitchen sink. Similarly, you grew used to noncommittedly charging him $5.00 on Venmo as he repeatedly demands a rematch because the game was bugged or his character was lagging.

Perhaps the boy was known for being good at everything, but it seemed that luck was always on your side.

Breaking out of your reverie, you watch as Jungkook dashes across the apartment in search for something. While you spread Nutella over a piece of lightly browned toast, your eyes follow his frantic movements in amusement. Biting into your breakfast for the day, you hum happily as the chocolate-y flavor spreads across your tongue.

“What are you looking for e-boy?” you ask before taking a sip of the milk in your cup.

“I can’t find my penny board…have you seen it?” he starts opening all the cupboards one by one, as if his skateboard would be in the kitchen shelf next to the canned spam.

“I hid it,” you casually state, hiding your grin behind a nibble of toast.

He stops in his tracks, looking you dead in the eye before calmly replying, “And why would you do that?”

Brushing the crumbs from your fingertips onto your plate, you skip past him to respond in a chirpy tone, “Every time you used that cursed thing you’ve come back with a new cut or scrape. We’re running out of my favorite Hello Kitty band-aids, so I’ve decided you need a break from your precious board.”

He seems to be ready to retort something back in response, but with one look at his right arm he’s forced to agree that maybe he should rely on his own two legs for the next week or two. Huffing indignantly, he grabs the other piece of toast you’ve left for him on the plate and begins spreading generous amounts of the hazelnut spread while you get ready for class.

Surprisingly, you and Jungkook have the same class this quarter on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Since the two of you were different majors, you never really discussed schedules with him and only ever really asked about his classes to know when you should expect him to be at home. However, it turns out that this class in question is notorious for being an easy pick to fulfill a GE requirement all students had to complete for graduation, so you couldn’t say it was a complete surprise that the two of you were simultaneously enrolled.

Minutes later, you cover your mouth as you yawn at the doorway, watching Jungkook sling his backpack over his shoulder. He freezes, mumbling something that you assume is a list of all the things he needed for the day to ensure that he doesn’t forget anything.

As he does this mental recital, you reach up and smooth out some hair sticking up at the top of his head. He’s rather tall, so you do your best to tip-toe and ensure that the gel in his hair is adequately spread over his brown locks to make him look as presentable as possible—which you admit must be tough for the poor gel product. He flicks you gently on the forehead as soon as he notices you holding in your laughter over this thought.

“I know you’re thinking something funny about me again. Stop.”

You give him your most innocent smile before heading out the door, slipping your earbuds in to listen to your regular “commute tunes” playlist.

After the short bus ride, he gently bumps into your side to get your attention. You pull out your earbuds and give him a questioning look and soft shoulder bump of your own. Based on the mischievous look on his face, you knew that the premonition you had this morning about Jungkook’s competitiveness was a warning sign.

“Since we have the same class this quarter, how about we bet on who will get the higher grade?” he grins happily, his whole body seemingly lit with excitement.

“Are you sure, Mr. Film Studies major? This is a philosophy class,” you quip, watching as masses of students trickle around the two of you like slippery salmon in a never-ending stream.

“It’s not like you’d have an edge either Miss International Business major” he laughs, and you can hear the confident tone in his voice. Jungkook genuinely thinks he has a chance.

How cute.

Right before you two enter through the classroom door, you pull him aside. The confident way he leans back to look at you tells you that he knew you wouldn’t be able to reject his offer. You never backed down on his challenges, and that’s why he liked you so much.

“Loser treats winner to Korean BBQ,” you state plainly, casually glancing down at your phone to check the time. Two minutes before class starts.

“Sure.”

Satisfied, you head into class and look around for two empty seats that were side-by-side. It wasn’t a habit that you were used to, since you rarely had friends in your university courses. However, with Jungkook beside you, it felt like a natural and customary reaction to scan the room for two empty seats instead of one. It was like pulling out two plates for dinner every night, stopping at a bakery when your cravings hit to buy your favorite dessert and a slice of banana bread to-go, or sending him a meme as you scroll through Reddit that you knew would make him laugh. You were unconsciously conscious of him.

The weeks passed like a summer’s breeze, so enjoyable that you’re left awestruck until it’s over. You enjoyed dodging around Jungkook’s questions whenever he struggled with the homework, watching him nap on his notebook while you took lecture notes, and distracting him with text messages when you didn’t want to pay attention in class so that he wouldn’t be able to either. It was almost like high school again, back when you used to be able to spend time with him and mess around in class with the teacher being none the wiser. Before long, finals had come around and you were feeling a little nervous to say the least. Jungkook refused to tell you what he got on the midterm, and by extension his grade in the course, thereby keeping you in the dark. Your grade wasn’t terrible, but you knew that Jungkook wasn’t a complete dummy because he always performed well when he was focused. Free Korean BBQ could do that to a man.

“Do you want to study together?” you ask, finding him laying on the couch and playing a racing game on his phone. You watch as his round eyes focus on the screen intently, waiting for him to blink.

“Sure. I’m not helping you though.”

You laugh, bringing your face close enough that it was right above the phone in his hands. Making weird faces to distract him from his game, you reply, “As if. I’m just checking to see how behind you are in this class.”

He finishes and tosses his phone on the tabletop. Looking at you disinterestedly, he pinches one of your cheeks and gets up when you wiggle out of his grasp. It looks like he’s going to get his stuff, so you head into your own room to prepare your books for a productive study session.

One of the highlights of your university was its library. You always came here to study instead of studying at home or going to a café. Being at home was sometimes distracting, especially when you could hear Jungkook roasting his team over voice chat well into the late night. Given how much you were consuming at your new barista job, you also decided to avoid places with delicious pastries, lest you wanted more feelings of disappointment during your next weigh-in at the doctor’s.

Finding a table with space for two, you sit down and begin pulling all of your supplies out of your backpack. Your enjoyed studying with a particular organization of notes and texts, so you had your favorite animal post-its on hand. Using them to indicate the beginning of your lecture notes, you begin going through what you’ve written with a light yellow highlighter. After doing this for a few pages, you peek at Jungkook’s work to find him doodling in the margins.

Leaning over, you draw a cute stick figure pointing to Jungkook’s doodle in awe. To get the full effect, you include a speech bubble of the character saying “WOW!”

He smiles before giving your stick figure a gorgeous mustache and top hat.

Surprisingly, the two of you get a lot done that day. You expected to be consistently distracted, but Jungkook kept to himself whenever he was really focused. Maybe he was always like this with studies he was interested in, but either way you quite liked how focused he was being. His wide eyes were trained on the text in front of him as he absentmindedly tapped his pen against his cheek in thought. Once in a while the pen tilts dangerously close to his mouth, and as you catch him proceeding to take an unconscious bite of the cap, you pull his hand away in alarm.

“You have a habit of putting things in your mouth. Perhaps you’re into that, but for your health let’s not,” you chastise, pulling the pen out of his grasp and tapping him on the head with it.

Grinning, he proceeds to try and bite your shoulder. You almost screech in alarm at his attack before remembering that you’re in a very public library with students already taking notice of the way you were practically falling out of your chair in horror. Clearing your throat and straightening your jacket, you give Jungkook a dirty look before turning away to focus on your textbook again.

Finals turned out to be much easier than you anticipated, which matched up to the past experiences you’d gathered from previous students of the course. It was clear to you that you and Jungkook had over-studied, but what captured your interest with greater intensity was the final grade in the course. As you happily noted the bright 97.6% flashing back at you on the screen, you could practically taste the yummy samgyeopsal on your tongue. Guess what makes food even better? When it’s free!

You slide over to Jungkook’s room and peek inside, hoping he wasn’t in the middle of a game. Luck finds you again when you witness him exiting out of the League of Legends application on his setup and spinning around in his bright orange gamer chair to greet your new intrusion. He quickly pulls his headset off to hear you better, to which you respond by diving face-first onto his bed and rolling up in his blanket like Y/N burrito just to bother him. When he makes a sound of annoyance and begins prying the sheets off you, you know you’ve attained your goal and begin helping him unravel you.

“What do you want?” he prods you off the bed so he can redo his sheets.

“Have you seen your PHIL grade yet?” you begin pretend-boxing with his back as the punching bag. He doesn’t seem to like this very much either, because he quickly spins around and grabs onto your fists to stop you.

“I have. Guess you’re taking me to KBBQ tonight?” he tries to tickle you out of spite, but you know he’s in a good mood. You’re rarely this playful with him, preferring to silently annoy him or treat him more like a troublesome younger brother to look out for. But what can you say? A free dinner peaks your mood.

“What’d you get then smartass?”

He pretends to think for a bit with his hand on his chin, “You first.”

Confidently, you stand up to him and puff your chest out in pride while jabbing his chest with each digit that comes out of your mouth.

“97.6% baby. Anyways, there’s this new spot 15 minutes away Luce told me about, I think you should treat me there-”

“Hm, 97.7% here baby,” a smirk sliding easily across his features as he mocks your previous tone, “What was that about a new place?”

Wide-eyed, you demand to see his grade on the university’s portal page. There’s no way this slick kid managed to get a higher grade than you…especially by a tiny percentage point! He’s got to be joking, maybe betting that you wouldn’t actually fact-check his claims or something…

Alas, as he shows you his screen while laughing in crazed triumph, you feel like breaking his obnoxious rainbow-lit keyboard as he runs around his room doing victory laps. You always thought luck would be on your side, especially when it came to studies, but perhaps you had used up all your free passes this year.

Breezing past him, you head to your room to find a light coat for the evening and your car keys. Jungkook seems to find that following you as you complete this task is entertaining, because you have to try your absolute best not to look at him as he tries to get your attention by making his typical crackhead expressions.

“Put on one of your weeb hoodies with the anime chicks and let’s go.”

“Wind out of your sails Y/N?”

He grabs you by the shoulders in an attempt to spin you around, but one well-aimed knee to the balls later, Jungkook seems to enjoy lying on the floor clutching his precious package more than teasing you with his antics.

Mental note: never make a bet with Guk again.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

<< previous || masterlist || next >>

110 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years ago

Text

The Dragon Egg (Parts 26-29)

Final parts for @secrettunnelatla

Azula is several unique and distinct layers of anxious. There is the first layer; the typical stresses that come with knowing that she is in for a make or break moment. The layer beneath that is a knowingness that a break is going to be particularly devastating for her. And below that is knowing that Blue Talon is in the room over, that she will once again be forced to listen to Chan’s botched version of her abuse story.

Under that layer is knowing that the subject of said story will be in the crowd, she has already spotted him striking up conversation with Wan Shi Tong after being snubbed by Raava and Vaatu.

And then there is the deepest layer. Hama has invited herself to the performance, after she so adamantly refused to take her advice to not perform. The old bat tried her damndest to dissuade her. Worse still, the woman’s concerns are more than valid. After finally confessing that she had done cocaine, albeit only a little, Hama lamented that that’s more than enough to explain her baby’s low birth weight. And more than enough to put her into early labor. Early labor when her age alone already put her at risk for that. “You can go into labor any time now.” The woman had put it. She can’t say that she doesn’t feel as though it is a possibility. The contractions are becoming more regular.

She holds out her hand and their makeup and SFX artist carefully dresses her fingers with blue claw tips. The fix her up with dragon contact lenses and carefully paint shimmering scales onto her cheeks, neck, and hands.

The woman hands her a sugary blue drink, it is the one comfort she has tonight. With luck it will give her tongue the blue effect that she is looking for.

They fashion her hair into a messy bun and begin working on her undercut. She hopes that it will be another seamless blend between metal and opera aesthetics. With her locks in a pile on the floor they dress her hair with ornaments and hand her, her prop mask--the final piece to her costume.

It has been some time since she has worn something form fitting and she has to admit that she is a little nervous to do it for the first time in front of so many people. But the design team that Zhao had hired for her is masterful, they have crafted a dress that works well with her baby bump. The scales are positioned in just the right ways to shimmer over and around the bump. And they are rather comfortable, more so than she anticipated them being.

“Azula, you have a visitor.”

“Tell Seicho that I got her flowers and we can talk after the show.”

“It’s...uh...it’s Chan and I think that the other two are here as well.”

“Send them away.” Zhao calls from across the room. “We don’t have time for drama.”

“What do they want?”

The woman shrugs. “I didn’t ask.”

“You can let them in.”

Chan is anything but discreet when staring at her belly and even less so when they fall on her chest. Perhaps if she didn’t want to risk breaking her faux claws she would have given him a good slap. “What do you want?”

“To wish you luck.”

“I don’t need luck. I have skill.” She pauses. “And I didn’t leech off of someone else’s material.”

“We’re not going to be performing those songs.” Ruon replies.

“We should though.” Zirin mutters.

“I figured that it would be disrespectful.”

“You figured that out quite late, didn’t you?”

Ruon sighs. “Maybe, yeah.”

“And let me guess,” she turns to Chan, “you decided that you want to be a father.”

“Fuck no!” He replies abruptly. “I don’t want anything to do with the baby, okay.”

“Then I want nothing to do with you. See yourself out.”

“Azula.”

“I am quite busy. Zhao can lead you out if you can’t find the exit yourself.”

She watches him leave with Zirin tethered to his side. “Sorry about those two, Ruon mutters. If it makes you feel any better, we’re going to be going with our new surf rock image after this concert. I convinced them to take up a new band name and give you the rights to Blue Talon.”

At least she can go into her performance knowing that at least one of her former friends isn’t morally bankrupt.

She gets one final visitor before she takes to the stage. Raava pulls her into a careful hug and kisses her on the cheek. “I am delighted that you were able to make it.”

“I couldn’t possibly miss this.” She replies. “Not for anything.”

Her baby shifts.

.oOo.

She is cradled in an egg, a large shimmering thing blue in color and shot with veins of gold. The hiss of a smoke machine lets her know that it is almost time. By now Zuko has emerged from a pile of simmering soot.

She hears a bang and she knows that his fiery wings have burst to life. She makes a note to incorporate pyrotechnics into her shows after giving birth. She hears the crackle as his phoenix wings flare. And in tendrils of curling smoke with the mightiest roar she can manage, she emerges from her egg.

Slipping back into her harsh vocals is like slipping back into a well worn and favorite robe, somehow it always fits just right. Somehow it is always comfortable. She is aware of her limits, well aware and they have several plans to work with them. Should breathing become too difficult, she will gesture for Zuko to fill in. She will resume with an adjusted set of clean vocals.

For the time things are going well, she is still pleasantly reeling from the explosive applause that came with her appearance. Her surprise appearance.

Her lips curl into a smirk as her initial, teaser verse echoes about.

“It’s good to see you all again!” Zuko calls.

The claps are damn near deafening.

“I’d like everyone to give my sister an extra pleasant welcome, we wouldn’t be here without her pestering and nagging.”

“You’re an ass, Zuko.” She scans the crowd for her father. She finds him, arms folded, the most hideous snarl on his face. She imagines that the two bottles on the table will be empty by the end of the night.

“Tonight, a dragon joins the Phoenixes!”

Tonight, a dragon will take flight. TyLee pounds out the first notes on her drum. The crowd is already abuzz with a frantic energy. An ecstatic energy. An energy that has been slowly building band by band. She can only imagine how frenzied they will become by the time it is The Tui Las’ turn to take the stage.

She doesn’t have the energy to move and flounce about as she usually would, so she stands upon a raised platform with glittering ashes at her feet, singing into the microphone while thin wisps of smoke furl and unfurl around her.

Mai’s guitar thrums, she can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that the woman can so liberally headbang, it is washed away by the sight of a banner unfurling from the balcony. She sees, in glittering acrylic paint, the maw of a dragon, its forked blue tongue thrashing. She can’t quite make out the words upon it, but she knows that it is for her. For her and her alone. Likely a gift from one of the fanclubs that had caught wind of her surprise enrollment. She closes her eyes as Mai’s solo wails on. And it is sound, everything is pure sound.

For a moment anxiety and trepidations give way to elation. To the highs of success and adoration. To the thrill and liberation that only music can bring. She tilts her head back and spreads her arms out. The spotlight glints off of her dress.

And while Zuko runs through his part, Azula points to the banner. She makes eye contact and sticks her tongue out, mimicking the image on the banner. The light twinkles upon her tongue piercing. And the crowd goes feral.

Zuko helps her down from the platform as she works her way back into the song. Her head spins with euphoria as the last vestiges of her misery, fear, and helplessness are shaken away by Zuko’s bass.

She makes a mental note to learn to play an instrument too. Perhaps the drums, she can’t name many lead vocalists who also play the drums. But she can do it, right now, she can do anything. The dragon is in flight and her wings are powerful.

She transitions into her operatic vocals. By now she is somewhat breathless, but it is alright. This is the sound she needs. The sound that is on her albums. The sound that has granted her so much attention. It is all her own. Indisputably so.

Zuko grins at her as she lowers the mic, a job well done. He gives her shoulder a little squeeze. And then he steps back. And Mai steps back while TyLee comes forward.

Zuko and Mai lay their instruments in the egg and TyLee sets her drumsticks at the bass of it. An offering to the dragon. They lay themselves down in those glittery ashes and wait until it is their turn to rise once more.

The stage goes black and then the light falls on her. A single beam that paints her body in a radiant halo.

As a forest falls into a hush before a storm, the venue falls into a silence so complete. Complete until she decides to break it. Break it with a voice like wind sifting through curtains. Like a summer storm rousing bells into a frenzy. Something powerful and light all at once. Something both airy and sturdy.

The spotlight is growing uncomfortably hot, and there is a new energy in the air. She doesn’t think that she has ever been paid such close attention and from so many people at one. She slides into the next note. The baby shifts. The breath she draws is sharp, she improvises a high note to accent it. There is a murmur of amazement.

A small smile play on her lips as she transitions into the next set of notes. The theater throws her voice back at her and she throws it back at the theater. It is a deviation from what she had planned but it is easier somehow. Easier and otherworldly. It is an experiment, a risk. This whole night has been a risk, what is one more? The night is going too well for her to not garner successful results.

As her last chorus begins, her wings unfold as shadows on the back wall. The smoke machines cough out plumes until she is lost in the smoke. And with her body fully enveloped, the stage fades to black once more.

She isn’t sure what to make of the tangible silence to follow. Not until it erupts into a deafening applause.

And then come the sparks, the sparks and flames and Zuko, Mai, and TyLee spring back into action for a bombastic finale. She feels much bolder now, unstoppable. Perhaps if her solo had been even a degree less successful she would have come down enough to know that she is pushing too hard.

As things are, she is taken by the night, by the magic of sound and melody. By the connections; to Zuzu, to Mai and TyLee, to the audience… These connections, for a time, block out a different connection. A connection she should be feeling by nature.

She slips back into her harsh screaming vocals and just in time. She holds her note as the first sharp pang bursts through her core. She screams louder, harder. By all means, it is the best scream she has ever done on stage. She isn’t sure if she is dismayed or relieved that the audience thinks that it is just part of the show. Most of the audience anyhow, Hama goes rigid. She grits her teeth as Zuko sings through his part. She feels a cramp like no other. And she sees faces. There is her father his expression is something conflictingly smug and shamed, he turns his head. There is Seicho, wincing. And Raava, she hasn’t seen that brand of concern since her mother died. She can’t find Hama.

The music cuts suddenly and with it, her dreams and aspirations.

Zuko hooks her under the arm.

“What are you doing?” She mutters, “you need to finish the show.”

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Mai replies.

“Or, at least, to Hama.” TyLee adds.

___________

Y’all are gonna have to forgive me lol, I don’t know too much about childbirth and I couldn’t find some of the answers to the questions I had about c-sections. That said, this is your warning if childbirth and surgeries make you squeamish.

She wants to cry. Cry for the pain and cry for her lost dreams. She had been so close. So, so very close.

And now she is here in a hospital bed, here in excruciating pain that anesthetics can only seem to take the edge off of. They give her commands, they tell her to push and breathe. They are vaguely reminiscent of the mock sessions that Hama has taken her though. But her head is too dizzy to truly do anything beyond hear the orders.

She picks out Hama’s face, but the woman mostly lingers back waiting to be called on for reminders and forgotten rundowns on her condition and medical history. She thinks that Seicho is there too, banished to the other end of the room so not to obstruct.

Azula screams again and they demand that she pushes. She thinks that the push she gives is more instinctual than a response to the order. There is another reminder to breath. She can’t do it. She is growing faint.

She thinks that this baby is going to rip her in two. Spirits, she could have sworn that they said it would have a low birth weight. Spirits, she can’t imagine what a standard weight baby would feel like.

Tears are running down her face but she barely registers them. And then she hears the words Caesarean section. Her face pales further and then further still when they mention that the baby’s heartbeat is unstable.

It is just as well, she doesn’t think that she can keep herself awake to deliver this baby naturally. She clutches the bed sheets as they clean her abdomen. They say something to her, something that she doesn’t catch. She thinks that they are trying to explain what they are doing.

She feels a hand holding hers. It is Seicho’s. Woefully and resentfully, she wishes that it was Ozai’s. Her father should be here. He should be holding her hand. He should protect her when she can’t do it herself. And this time she doesn’t think that she can.

“It’s alright.” One of the doctors promises. “You’re going to be fine.”

To her horror, they keep her awake. They carefully fix the IV into her arm and administer a regional anesthesia. Agni, she wishes that they would just put her out entirely.

“You did good tonight.” Seicho says.

“Mmm hmm.” Azula mannages as they begin to make the incision.

“Really good. You should see what they’re saying about the performance.”

Azula grits her teeth, “that I’m a fool for performing eight months pregnant.”

“No! Okay, well, some people are saying that…”

She must admit that Seicho has just provided her with a rather solid distraction. “They have no right to say anything about…”

Seicho laughs. “But they’re also saying that it was impressive that you could do it at all. And that your performance was amazing, they were only disappointed to see it cut short.”

“Are ‘they’, the audience or the judges?”

“Both, I think?” Seicho replies. “The competition is still going on of course, but your odds of winning still look pretty good according to the live updates.”

Azula’s grimaces at a tugging sensation that radiates up her abdomen.

“Are you in any pain?” The doctor asks.

She shakes her head, “it’s not comfortable though.” And the discomfort seems to last hours. The doctors insist that it had been only an hour and twenty-minutes. And for that hour and twenty-minutes she doesn’t even get to hold her baby.

“She’s being transferred to the NICU.” They inform her. “It might be several days, possibly weeks until you get to hold her. We need to get her stable first.”

Azula can only nod. She is lucky that her baby is alive at all.

______________

Her baby comes with a list of risks and warnings. Obligations and an extensive list of follow up appointments. Here and there she does interviews, ones wherein she promises that she is still very much active, that new songs are in the works and that she has several music video ideas in mind. Ones wherein she announces that she plans to collaborate with From Ashes to Phoenix more and that she plans to take up drumming while on maternity leave. That interviews will be less frequent and that her first tour isn’t slated for at least a year.

She thinks that she is driving Seicho mad with anticipation, she has only been promising her a real date for ages now. But she has things to attend to first. She is putting the finishing touches on her nursery, while profusely but silently thanking Zhao’s wife for providing her with the toys and baby care supplies that she had neglected to buy herself. What Zhao and his wife don’t provide comes in the form of gifts from Iroh, Zuzu, Mai, TyLee, Raava, and Vaatu. Chan has given her a gift as well but a boob pillow isn’t exactly the sort of thing that she wants in her baby’s crib. She supposes that it’s the thought that counts. It is a small little gesture, something that has her inclined to think that he doesn’t want to sever ties with her completely. She puts that to the side for when she has time to deal with it.

“This is so exciting!” TyLee gushes.

Azula is nearly inclined to say that TyLee is more excited to see the baby in her mother’s arms than she is.

“You must be thrilled.” Seicho notes.

Truth be told there is a shot of nervousness too. She hadn’t had enough time to consider what kind of mother she would be. And that in itself is a red flag. Surely she can be no worse than her own father.

The doctor beckons her into the room. “Are you ready to meet your baby?”

Azula nods.

“Did you pick out a name yet.” Inquires another doctor as the first leaves to retrieve her baby.

Azula nods again. “It’s Anzu.”

“That’s so pretty.” TyLee smiles.

“Thank you.”

The doctor emerges. “Here she is.” Gently the woman transfers Anzu into Azula’s arms. She is a precious little thing. Soft, squishy, and terribly small.

“Is she going to stay this small?” Azula asks.

“Most likely, yes. Even if she wasn’t a pre-term baby, you are rather small.”

Azula flushes lightly.

“That’s her polite way of saying that you’re super teeny!” Seicho ruffles her hair.

Azula holds Anzu’s head against her breast. It doesn’t remain there for long, Azula finds that the baby is a wiggly thing. She opens her eyes but they don’t seem to find focus on anything in particular. Azula holds out her finger for the girl to grasp.

“She’s quite a fussy one.” The doctor notes. “Preterm babies tend to have irregular sleeping and eating patterns, so that’s something to prepare yourself for. We’ll be keeping her for another week, just to make sure that she stays stable, but she’s just about ready to come home.”

“I’ll pass the warning onto Zhao.” Azula replies as she strokes Anzu’s hair. “Have you been playing music for her like I asked? I want her to be a musician too.”

“We have.” The woman assures her. “Mostly classical music for now. But she is fond of zither music and the pan pipes.”

Perhaps she will learn to play the zither and the drums. “You know how to play the zither, don’t you, TyLee?”

“And the harp.”

“I can play an accordion!” Seicho declares.

“You can?” Azula furrows her brows.

“Sure. I just can’t play it good.” Seicho shrugs.

Azula sighs, she isn’t sure of just what kind of upbringing Anzu is going to have. With Seicho as a fill in father. Though Zhao, his wife, and Iroh show more promise. At least she has options. Options and a solid support system.

A musical career and motherhood. She will make them both work somehow.

____________

She lets Zuko, Mai, and TyLee tag along. Zhao and his wife have kindly extended her a much needed night off and she is spending it in Seicho’s chair. “I don’t need hand holding, Zuzu.” She rolls her eyes as Seicho brings the needle to her chest. “If I can handle childbirth, I can handle another tattoo.”

“You were numb for the childbirth.” Zuko points out.

“I suppose that I was, yes.”

Seicho makes great time, at this rate they will have time to go out for dinner after the tattoo has been finished. Already, she has the outline of the dragon egg and she is working to surround it with music notes.

Azula closes her eyes and relaxes as much as the constant needle bites will allow. Her mind wanders away from the tattoo parlor and to the stage. It is strange to think that it has only been a month since Audio of Agni. A month since she was able to hang her award certificate on the wall of her recording studio.

She almost can’t distinguish the buzzing of her phone from the whir of the tattoo gun as it pumps more shimmering blue into her skin. She declines the call.

“Who was it?” Zuko asks.

“It was father.” She mutters. “He’s been calling a lot lately.” A lot since he realized that his gleaming little star is shining perfectly fine without him. Much better in fact, without the pressures that he puts on her.

“What does he want?” Mai grumbles.

“Who cares.” Zuko scowls.

Deep down, she does. Deep down she misses him. Misses his praise and his subtle and hard to acquire affections. Misses the man he was before the booze. “Do you think that rehab would help him, Zuzu?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“I think that you shouldn’t make it your problem.” Seicho pulls the tattoo gun back and shrugs. “You have a baby and a career to worry about and that’s plenty. You can talk to him when he calls you to tell you that he went to rehab on his own.”

And yet her heart aches for the people that she has cut out of her life. She supposes that she has let enough people in to balance things out. She has friends now, real friends. She has a brother, an uncle, a spunky, highly agitating, girlfriend. She has that dolt Zhao and she has her baby.

She has more than she had lost.

“I don’t need him.” She finally replies.

“Good.” Zuko replies. He has made more progress of his own, perhaps more than even she. He’d built From Ashes To Phoenix from nothing. He’d kindled the flame and then doused it and then flared it up again higher than before. All that remains of his troubles are a series of faint puncture scars on his arms.

“When does your tour start, Zuzu?”

“The beginning of next month. Are you gonna see us play?”

“I’ll let you know when Anzu tells me.” She laughs.

“Well, let us know when you’re touring again, we’ll see your show.”

“I sure hope so, TyLee, you guys will be the opening act!”

“Stop moving so much!” Seicho exclaims.

“Sorry.” Azula mutters. She watches as Seicho moves the tattoo gun across the egg. Somehow she has managed to create an effect not dissimilar to that of her Audio of Agni dress. She pauses to swap out the ink colors. Her hand is so dainty and elegant as she fills in and shades. Finally she pulls it back and hands Azula a mirror. She doesn’t need it to know that Seicho’s work is as fine and painstaking as ever. That it is perfect. That it is worthy of being on her skin.

Seicho gently applies a layer of antibiotic ointment.

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to make adjustments to that tattoo while we’re here?” Seicho gestures to the dragon curling around her arm.

“I’m sure, Siecho. I need this tattoo as it is.” There are nights when it is painful to look at. Nights when it is a glaring reminder of the people she lost. The friends who betrayed her, who almost reaped her of everything she had. But it is also a reminder of what she had tamed and reclaimed.

For better or for worse, Blue Talon is a part of her. Just as much as Anzu and the music industry. And for better or for worse, Blue Talon is a mark on her skin. Just like Anzu.

Tattoos aren’t art, she decides, they are stories. Profound ones. And Seicho has a particular way with words. A particular way of helping her tell her story.

“Alright then, we’re all done here!” Seicho pecks her on the forehead.

Seicho locks and darkens the parlor. She takes Azula’s hand. TyLee takes her other one. And Mai takes TyLee’s free hand. Zuko completes the chain. She walks down the street. A dragon among phoenix.

She thinks that it is best this way.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Azula/Cupholder girl #Fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

kpopisthereasonihavenolife · 4 years ago

Text

genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff

warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms

w.count: 5.4k

summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier! That is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night.

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13]

a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh)

“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment. You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.

Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul. “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out. Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.

It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul. But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof. It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.

You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap. You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.

This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing. Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school. It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be. Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were. Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more.

“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes. “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around. Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening. Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.

It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes. Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well. Dance history and theory for example. Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must.

Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds. Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates. Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student.

You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped. You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.

You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.

As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years.

As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare. You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality. Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about.

You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares.

When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him. Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head. He smiled, waving at you.

“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat.

“Oh, yeah. I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years. Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding.

“Makes since though. This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat. “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.

“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void. Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.

“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed. He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand. He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away. You looked back to your lap and let out a breath. You smiled. If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.

Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner.

At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you. Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students. Some familiar, some not. He just smiled at them all as a group.

“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him. “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that. If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors. “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.”

You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against. You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age. Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories!

However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you. One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.

Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career.

Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie.

It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes. You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it.

You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule. He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad. Rules be damned.

You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor.

Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s.

Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it. Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead.

You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos. All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.

“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes. You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.

“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not.

“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm. “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.”

“You’re walking with me?”

“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.

“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you. You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class. Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could.

You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.

“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes? Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.” Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job. It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet. You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows. She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no.

“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there. “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.

“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do. Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled. She ran to you behind the counter. Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.

You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours. You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you. Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.

He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand.

“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock. He cringed as you addressed him so formally. Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested. You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.

“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered. “Just call me by name,” he told you. Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was. He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine. “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.”

“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint. “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going.

You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape. “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.”

“But of course,” your boss mused. “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood.

“It was good seeing you-”

“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart.

“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago. “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.”

“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true. The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby. Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift. “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel.

“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.”

Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk. You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend. It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back.

“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused.

“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep.

“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused. You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to. He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off.

Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching. He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.

You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes. Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness. A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.

You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return. Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing.

This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time. In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.

You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely. When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out.

Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.

His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you.

“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio.

Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour. How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.

A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.

You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door. You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression.

“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure. Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room.

“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness. “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out. I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel. We just have to tough it out for one night.”

He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders. He could understand though. You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits. Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him. You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead. Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover.

However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous. It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either. It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious.

The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties. You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous. The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.

“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck. “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.”

“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.

Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you. He cleared his throat. “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results.

“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation.

“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile. You cracked a smile back to him finally.

“That’s-”

The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window. The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle. The instructor whistled.

“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms. “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap. You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll.

It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you. He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him. He offers it to you, hoping to ease you. You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head.

“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.”

“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite. “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.”

Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning. Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least.

He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.

“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back. You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled. “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position.

“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing. He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist. Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks.

He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance. You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.

What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again.

Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible. He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip. He showed you how to dance certain parts as you mirrored him.

You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing. You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter.

The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am. Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.

“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face. He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look away now. “Hoseok?”

He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush. “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them. “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?”

You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin. You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.

“I- uh, huh?”

“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.”

“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him. He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything.

“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up. You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.

“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished. Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.

“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep. We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.

How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.

~END~

73 notes · View notes

currentfandomkick · 5 years ago

Text

Miraculous and the Batboys - Week 3

So i am back(ish) and I bring the Update. Editting is for those with patience and time that i lack. ao3 link HERE

A weekend dodging Gina was… eventful. Even moreso when celebrating ‘No More Gabriel Brand’ time was cut short by a barrage of akuma.

All weekend.

Marinette is convinced the man has too much free time.

She would admit (ONLY when no one else was around) that having someone else checking info during battles was nice. Out of the visiting bats, she had come to rank them from least to most irksome: Red Robin (most helpful), Nightwing (helpful), Red Hood (… he was slightly less annoying—he seems to understand she is the leader of the team) then Robin (who can’t get that she knows what she’s doing, AND hurts the minions more than necessary).

Okay, maybe she’s holding a grudge from when they first met (Tikki enjoyed reminding her of that new found habit—grudge holding) but you don’t go around calling a bunch of magic jewelry powered superheroes incompetent before finding out what they’re fighting and how they have to fight!

And yes, this is a hill she will die on.

Chloe and Adrien are in full agreement, well, Queen Bee and Chat Noir are.

“Are you sure we can’t just…” Chat gestured with his eyes to where Robin was perched at the edge, “just a little?”

Marinette didn’t answer him. She turned to Queen Bee. “You need to influence chaton less.”

“Never.”

Tim almost collapsed when he saw Marinette on her own. Why?

Because he was Certain that he saw a, a red thing—creature? Poke something out of her purse.

Red was Ladybug’s color. Yep. She’s. Yep—mini Red Robin hard since he’s pretty sure she’s avoiding someone too.

She was too—he knew for a fact she’s avoiding Gina excellently (either hiding at the hotel with Chloe, the teashop or one Adrien Agreste and his… legal cousin but Tim is certain there is something off about that with the Holy Doopleganger Batman! Vibe he got from checking out the pair’s apartment. He now had a fun thing to look into when he’s bored and tired of Hawkmoth Shenanigans).

She’s also… yep. Dodging a bunch of teens he’s certain are her classmates.

And… Damnit demon spawn!

Marinette managed to disentangle herself from class parkour (miraculous training as civvies) when she got a text from Damian.

Apparently he wanted to ask how she was handling the whole… Thing with Bustier and Lila.

She wonders if he’s dealt with bullying too, and was looking for advice. She was certain hers was crap, but she did say she’d be around so…

She met up with Damian not too far from the park at a café, nothing fancy, and waited for him to start once they’d placed their orders.

“I know it is a personal matter and not my place to ask, however I would like to know how you have managed to endure the repugnant behavior of our teacher and the harlot.”

Marinette forgot she should think before responding.

“Pretty sure whores and sex workers are paid. She’s more con artist for attention than anything else.”

She missed Damian’s response as the waiter put down their drinks and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Remember the girl that framed me a while back and tried to expel me the first Scarlet Moth round?”

“Ah.” The waiter turned to Damian then. “Don’t insult whore by putting them in with that, well, work and I see my boss so I can’t say what I want again, but we both know what she is, and whores are no where near that level. Politicians, most, whores? No.”

Marinette snorted into her drink as they left.

“And to answer your question, well, I don’t really have a choice.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at that.

Marinette could feel his eyes on her, but couldn’t meet their gaze with this topic. (It still hurt, even though it’s a been years since it began.)

“Lila had everyone charmed or uncertain if she was lying until two weeks ago. Bustier said I had to be a good example and class representative putting that above everything else in my life. Even though everyone knows I’ve been helping run three different businesses on top of handling my program and own business and clientele, and help take care of Fu with a few other small business kids. Nothing could come before the class’s harmony—nothing.”

Marinette took a small bite of her pastry.

“So I saw someone who could force her to listen or have to deal with actively and knowingly violating anti-akuma laws—something she’s only managed to narrowly avoid since, well,” Marinette gestured to herself. “I got tired of constant akumas in class and managed to convince the school board as my last act as class rep to require daily and weekly mental health checks and mitigate potential akuma triggers during weekly checks, daily being more ‘answer these questions honestly’ for stress levels. The system flags major changes, and the students affected see one of the counselors immediately to find ways around what’s bothering them.”

Marinette missed Damian staring at her for that, or how his mouth opened ever so slightly.

“When I stepped down, everyone noticed I wasn’t comfortable alone with Bustier, so it became a rule to stop it whenever they could. The other classes are field specialty and ours is the only one for people doing more than one program or close to.”

Marinette looked up at that with a smile. “Fashion is my official program, but since I do so much business outside of school, I kept having to take classes to help out early on. I never enrolled in the program officially like Chloe did, but the school has me credited as able to graduate with both programs, so until they can justify opening another multi-program class, I’m not allowed to transfer out of the class and stay in Dupont.”

Her eyes hardened when she said, “And I’m not letting a liar and a Bustier be the reason I left the only school that’s willing to go as far as they have for me program-wise—especially not when I only have a year left.”

Damian nodded at that, deciding he’d have to sic Drake on the harlot either way… perhaps Todd and Gina too. He was feeling spiteful.

Marinette decided that when she meets Hawkmoth, she is not only punching him in the face, she is going to do, she doesn’t know exactly what (Tikki has a few ideas that Marinette is certain involve torture) but it will hurt.

Why?

Third akuma on a Sunday. THIRD! What is this man not doing that he was before? She wants to know since whoever freed up his time is on her list now.

Robin was being less annoying (re: tracking the akuma and leaving the minions less battered than usual) while Red Robin was helping the police evacuate affected areas with Nightwing. Somehow Red Hood got it in his head to stick with Chat for “on the job training” her team is trained asshole and she is debating how far she should go when they finish off Hawkmoth for good.

Monday was… interesting. The emancipation was approved—Adrien Agreste legally required no legal guardian.

When Gabriel tried to fire Gorilla, well, Adrien pointed out Gorilla had been in Adrien’s employ this whole time as mother hired and paid him from her accounts. Which transferred to Adrien when she was declared dead.

Marinette dreaded the akuma Hawkmoth might cook up using Gabriel. How he wasn’t akumatized again was anyone’s guess.

Class was…

“So last night Damiboo said—“

Marinette put her head on her desk, and decided to raise an eyebrow at a… for some reason ill-looking Damian.

“Is it because you guys share a name?”

Damian blinked.

Adrien turned around then. “Or because someone has commitment issues.”

Marinette squinted at Adrien because… “What?”

Nino sighed. “Adrien is on another MatchMaker spree.”

“ah. Who are the victims?”

“Not touching it dudette, not touching it.”

Marinette snorted. “It’s not like he’s going to match anyone with well,” Marinette gestured at herself.

“Your infamous army.”

“They are not an army.”

“How many ‘relatives’?” Nino used air quotes.

Marinette narrowed her eyes. “Well under a hundred thousand, so not an army.”

“I am counting the fans.”

Marinette scoffed. “They do not count.”

“They do, and I’m pretty sure Adrien’s fan girl army is applicable.”

“Okay, just because they made up titles and help out during akuma evacs does not make them an army—they’d need weapons training, clear chain of command, coded strategies—”

“And the fact you know this only proves my point, you have an army.”

“Who has an army?” Chloe asked as she walked over.

“Marinette.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” Chloe agreed. “Kim!” the boy looked over at that. “Marinette’s ‘family’ is a small army.”

“I, yes?” Kim’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Any one that picked her up had how many knives on them when we were kids?”

Damian turned to her with a suspicious eye.

She blushed. “Nonna’s friends.”

Damian nodded slowly.

Marinette wondered if the earth could just… swallow her up now.

The rest of the week was in a similar vein. Constant attacks, the batboys helping, her class being weirdly fixated on her family (they aren’t violent, just… prepared.)

Her gymnastics classes were a godsend, and her instructor was checking up on her more than usual, but that might be her more or less running her own classes and lessons as she worked out her routine, music choice, and requirements for her teammates and partners for her routines on trapeze.

Tim was around more. He got it in his head that she needed “guidance” (and okay, she does) on how to conduct corruption investigations into the whole company’s practices and staff.

Then there was Damian being… distant? She was busy but they weren’t talking as much as they were at first and fine, whatever, she got it. She’s not someone he wants to be around…. It happens.

It just… hurts a little is all.

At least she had Adrien and less secrets there. He was fixated on Damian having “commitment issues” and she thinks he’s trying to set him up with someone (Chloe maybe? Why else would he be this focused…. It’d be interesting explaining she’s pretty sure Chloe like girls better than boys and that Damian isn’t her type. At a later date—she’s too busy to now).

Then she had chores and was called in for a hearing on Bustier which was… interesting…. (her duties weren’t too bad for class president. she wasn’t making lesson plans or anything. The role model and forgiving everyone for hurting her and being told to let Lila walk all over her for years was not okay at all, but any teacher would have said that, right?)

Oh and Gina was now convinced Marinette needed protection and now semi-stalking her (Jason was weirdly close to Jason now and talking to him a lot). So random Grandma Attacks when she wanted to draw in Peace.

Lord Murder was her best stress buddy, and Gina is now well acquainted her. She was also given Gina’s Seal of Approval to take over her house for the purposes of keeping Lord Murder and staying there once her current tenants were out (no seeing it until then… unfortunately. She did get dimensions for cat things though. she may browse a bit obsessively… only a bit.)

Tim froze when he ran into Jason with Civilian Chat Noir. And a giant man (Gorilla). At their base. Playing videogames.

“Hey Tim, this is Adrien, Adrien, Tim. Adrien is your mini’s buddy and this is the guy that keeps the harpies away, Gorilla—yes he refuses to tell me his real name—and they’re family now. B can suck it.”

Adrien waved at him before turning back to the game. “I have no idea why he keeps saying that.”

Tim took a deep breath. Apparently adopting strays was just another Bat-thing. “So its nurture, not nature.”

Damian came out, sighed when he saw the group still there, and took a drink into his room while saying. “I did not adopt him.”

Adrien looked back at him then. “You have too many commitment issues to. Don’t worry, though, I’m good at destroying pesky problems like that.”

Tim blinked at that.

Damian sighed as they had this conversation too often now. At school and apparently, his home now. “I am not going to—”

“That’s just your fear talking—we both know that.” Adrien spoke like he was talking to a petulant child. “Why don’t you text your friends and see what they think since I already know the answer and you need more convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Jon thinks you are annoying.”

“I’m a delight.” Adrien turned back to his game then.

Jason grinned proudly next to him. A bit too much like a proud parent for Tim’s comfort. (He may also be realizing his keep-his-mini-from-Damian-dating may end up in vain thanks to one Adrien Agreste(?))

Dick sent Bruce exactly (1) update: You are a grandpa now—Jason has a blond cat-hero son who can’t dodge.

Bruce may have had a small heart attack as now he has a magic grandson that he never met, apparently controls raw destruction, and is deeply traumatized. (It was the grandpa part that freaked him out—the rest is par for the course as Batman. He’s a Grandpa Alfred—he’s too young for his children to pull a him and adopt tiny traumatized children and train them into (heroes) vigilantes. Alfred stop laughing, he’s being serious!)

-------------

HEY so thanks for patience with the updates as life is Extra Hell now between puppy training when i'm finally home and work being Extra Hell with longer shifts and more to do during.

And before anyone asks about the peacock!marinette thing, look at the two series I have going with Bronywn as those are ongoing as my stress writes.

Any preferences for next update? Open to ideas as my mind is too stressed to do more than work off a prompt of some kind for the time being, and next to none of this story has been planned so far, so ideas are very welcome to keep it moving forward.

@worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @littleredrobinhoodlum @northernbluetongue @kceedraws @pirats-pizzacanninibles @theatreandcomicfreak @daminett4life @catthhay @weird-pale-blonde-person @amayakans @chocolatecatstheron @tired-butterfly @multplelifes @yin-390 @area51qt @toodaloo-kangaroo @bzz75 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @freshbark @soup-served-chilling @daminett4life @smolplantmum @karategirl119 @goblinwhoships @melicmusicmagic @maribat-is-lifeblood @spartanxhunterx @maribat-is-lifeblood @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #daminette idea au #miraculous team and batboys #my writing #my writings #long post #somehow still alive

77 notes · View notes

putschki1969 · 4 years ago

Text

Keiko SPICE Interview ~ English Translation

Notes: This is an amazing and very insightful interview. I did my best to translate it as quickly as possible. Please enjoy. Keiko is alluding to having a nephew now in addition to her niece. Ahh, that’s great. I know she loves being an auntie. She also mentions a chronic illness. I know she was having issues with her voice ever since late 2015/early 2016 (mild bronchitis) but I didn’t know it was that bad. Kalafina’s busy schedule probably didn’t allow her to fully recover. So glad she was finally able to recover properly. Anyways, let’s get to it! As always, be aware that my Japanese is by no means perfect so take everything with a grain of salt.

Source: https://spice.eplus.jp/articles/270870

In her first public interview since 2 years KEIKO talks about her quest to find music she can imagine herself creating. Regarding her solo debut she shared, “I liked these songs so I wanted to sing them!”

Three-person vocal unit “Kalafina”. KEIKO, one of the three members who created beautiful harmonies together, released her solo debut single 「命の花／Be Yourself」on May 27. After two years I got to interview KEIKO who is finally launching her solo career. She shared her thoughts regarding those two years of silence and how she ended up creating her new songs. She also told me how she felt about her 10 years as part of Kalafina~

The moment when music was no longer present in her life

――It's been such a long time. My last interview with you was back in March 2018.

Wow, has it really been this long...

――On May 27, you released your debut single「命の花／Be Yourself」 as solo artist, what did you do during your hiatus? How did you spend your time until you started working at your new agency? Did you prepare yourself for your solo activities?

No such thing. For me it was a period where I had to come to a full stop in order to get some clear answers for myself.

――Were there any specific things you wanted to try, a new start so to speak, without having to stick to any schedules?

I spent a lot more time in nature and with my family, there were also some days when I helped out my grandmother with her everyday chores. During these days I talked a lot with her and while we were reminiscing about the good old days the topic of kimonos came up, my grandmother is a “kimono instructor”, you know. “You have always loved kimonos, right?” she asked me one day so I ended up trying some of them on with her help. It’s a very special feeling for a girl to have someone put a kimono on for you. I wanted to provide that feelings for other people, especially my little niece and nephew. Also, I remembered from all of our previous overseas lives that Japanese kimonos are very popular all across the world so I felt a strong determination and decided to go to a Kimono School, "OK, let's go to school!."

――So you really enrolled in a school?

Yes, I went back to school for about half a year.

――Did you get a qualification?

At first I just wanted to take some classes. But as I spent my time there, I realised that wearing a kimono also meant studying a part of Japanese history. I was so absorbed in my studies and then all of a sudden someone suggested, “why don’t you take the exam?” “Eh?” I was slightly taken aback, “should I really do it?” “You definitely should!” It was kinda like that *laughs* So I got my qualifications by sitting in for an exam in front of very sophisticated teachers who asked me lots of questions.

――This was probably refreshing for you, like a switch had been turned off in your mind?

Yes... At that time I felt like I got to experience all the good and bad aspects of my work and I was able to determine the field and scope of my activities all by myself.

――I thought so.

When I went to Kimono School it was very refreshing to stay anonymous, I was able to put myself in a state where I was a nobody. There was pretty much no one at school who was close to my age in their thirties. There were either very young people who aspired to get a job in the kimono field or refined older ladies who were wearing kimono on a daily basis. But no one in my age-group.

――It was an environment where you only had seniors and juniors around you but no peers?

Yes. It felt like a natural environment to start from scratch without having anyone around on my level. Jumping into such an environment was a very relaxing experience.

――In a sense it might have been a refreshing time for you.

Naturally, when you put yourself into an unfamiliar situation, you will treat everything with a lot of respect. You are also starting to reconsider the way you treat the people around yourself, your attitude towards people.

――So it was a time when you were analysing the relationships and distances between yourself and other people? Within all of this, was there also some time you dedicated to music? For example, did you take singing lesson or anything like that?

Some fans may know this but towards the end of our activities my chronic illness had gotten pretty bad to a point where I wasn’t even able to do lives any more. Restoring my health and giving my voice a chance to recover was a major catalyst for me to take a break, that’s why I didn’t do anything music-related for about half a year.

――So you didn’t even take care of your vocals during this time?

Exactly. I took a complete and total break from music. In those moments when I was resting properly, music was no longer a part of my life.

――Music has always been a part of your life, you have dedicated a lot of thought, work and training towards music. In turn I think that music also provided a lot for you. So how was it to be separated from this integral part of your life? Did you maybe feel sad or a sense of loneliness?

I don't recall feeling any of that but my memories are quite blurry and fragmentary. I really don’t remember the time from our final stage greeting at the Toho Cinema Hibiya until around autumn of the same year. Maybe I was too absorbed with jumping into a new environment and resting my body. Even if I look back at that time now and try to remember what I was feelings back then, I can’t really remember anything of what was happening for about half a year. it’s very strange.

――So there was nothing, just a feeling of emptiness?

Yes, a feeling of emptiness. I guess that’s why I was trying to do so many new things, to fill that void.

She continued to search for an answer until she finally found it - a return to Kajiura Yuki

――After all this time you have returned with your solo debut. I wonder, was there a particular moment that had you become active again and which eventually motivated you to work towards your solo debut?

I remember the moment clearly when I started to be active again, it was actually a very simple thing. I became aware of the voices of our fans who had always supported us, everyone was wondering, “will KEIKO be singing again?”, “How does she feel about music right now?!”

――Yes, everyone was really curious.

Naturally, as my body recovered, my mind and heart became brighter and healthier too. After the end of summer and autumn, my body was in a great state. From then onwards I felt motivated to finally meet up with people in the industry again. I had a chance meeting with Yoda-san* who is now working together with me as my producer. During our initial talks he asked me, "you have sung songs of all kinds of genres in the past but what kind of music it is that KEIKO-chan wants to sing?” I was baffled when he asked me that because for a moment there I had no idea what to answer… [*She is referring to Haruo Yoda who also produces MISIA. She uses UNIVERSOUL999 STUDIO for her recordings.]

――You just froze up?

Yes, for the life of me, I couldn't answer his question. I wondered, "what is it that I want to sing?" I was super shocked because I was clueless. In that moment I knew I couldn’t go on like that, it was like a switch had been turned on in my mind.

――Not being able to answer immediately, that’s unexpected.

I had always been so invested in music, for all this time I had done nothing but pursue music so it was very shocking to realise that I didn’t have an answer for such an important question regarding music.

――So did you also start to become active again to find that answer?

After that switch had been turned on, I spent every day in the studio. I turned off the lights and listened to music all day every day pretending like I was at a concert venue.

――You spent all your time at the studio?

Yes.

―― Was it like trial and error? I don't know if you can give a specific name but were there any songs or artists that left an impression on you while you were listening to all of that music?

Kajiura-san for sure.

――Oh…….

No matter what I listened to, I always ended up thinking, “no, that’s not it, that’s not what I want to do.” At one point I thought that I just wouldn’t be able to find anything for me and then suddenly there was one of Kajiura-san's OSTs playing in the background. I was like, ‘oh... that's exactly what I was looking for."

――What exactly was that?

It was refreshing to once again realise that Kajiura-san's music is still able to touch my heart. All this time I had been looking for something "new!" After all, in order to start something new you want to find new music, right?

――I guess so.

But once I thought about it carefully, I realised that both the FictionJunction songs as well as the Kalafina songs were incredibly rewarding and worthy, so much fun and engrossing. Without even realising it, I had spent a decade performing these songs. I could do that because I loved the music. I felt like I was once again thrown back to a time when it was just about that simple feeling. That was the answer I ended up with in the final days of 2018.

――You were looking everywhere for the right answer but turns out the answer was right in front where you originally started.

I was kinda going back and forth needlessly, I felt very sorry about that *laughs*. The answer was right there all along *laughs*.

――I am sure that was a very emotional time for you... That's how you ended up appearing at Kajiura-san’s lives again after a very long break, how were those lives for you?

They were a lot of fun! I kept saying, “I am having a blast, I love this so much!” *laughs* Looking back at that time now, I think the biggest change for me was that I felt this immense joy to be back. I think it was because I took such a long break.

――But your heart was never able to let go.

Perhaps so. I think as an adult it takes quite some courage to put a halt to your life like that. But it was absolutely necessary for me to stop for a while.

――It's wonderful that you were able to gain a new sort of awareness during all of this.

Starting a new chapter like this felt really nice because my past and present got connected. And now I see it as my duty to strengthen my body and mind for a long-lasting music career.

――When I first asked you how it was to perform again after such a long time and you replied with a huge smile, “it was so much fun!”, that felt very refreshing to me, it made me incredibly happy to see you like that.

Thank you. I guess I am just so excited to be back at Kajiura-san's lives. It was so nice because everyone was there. Kajiura-san, the other singers and the band-members, they were all there. So I think that’s what made me happy. It might have been very different if my comeback had happened under different circumstances, on a different stage.

――There may have been a different kind of nervousness.

I agree. This way it just felt like coming home, a warm and welcoming home.

Two songs she decided to sing because she fell in love with the melody

――Please tell us about the release of your digital solo debut single, 「命の花 / Be Yourself」. Let’s start with the time when you found out about the release.

I am currently busy with the music production process so it may be best to ask my staff members about all the details regarding the release *laugh*.

――We have someone from the record company with us here today so let’s ask them, shall we? Is there anything strategic about the timing of this digital single release?

Person in charge: We decided to release an album around autumn for her big solo comeback. But we knew that the fans would be very curious about what kind of music they could expect from KEIKO in the future. So to start with, we wanted to do a little greeting by KEIKO and a digital release with two very good songs, 「命の花」and「Be Yourself」. This way we would get the chance to receive some feedback from the fans.

――I see, thank you for your input. Now back to Keiko, I would also like to know your impression when you first heard those two songs?

Doing solo activities is like starting from scratch for me. I am working based on my instincts, my gut-feeling, right now my premise is "if I like a song I want to sing it."

――You want to be able to like and appreciate the songs.

When I heard 「命の花」 for the first time I was immediately blown away, “OMG, I NEED to sing this!” I fell completely in love with the melody. With 「Be Yourself」it was a different way of falling in love. It’s the kind of song I enjoy listening to as a personal hobby. When I want to get hyped or motivated I listen to this sort of song. I shared my impression with the people around me and then we all ended up deciding that I should try singing it and just match my voice to that type of song. If you think about it, my way of falling in love with 「命の花」and「Be Yourself」was the complete opposite.

――Yes, you liked both but your approach of liking those songs was totally different.

That's right. Nevertheless, I love both of these songs. For some reason they resonated with me.

――When it comes to 「命の花」you were also in charge of the lyrics, weren’t you? Did you fall so much in love with the melody that you immediately wanted to write the lyrics?

No.

――Eh! ?

Well *laughs*. I haven't studied songwriting and I have never written lyrics before. So despite wanting to sing songs I never thought I could write the lyrics.

――That’s your attitude toward music.

But this time I was asked, "if you feel like it you could try and write the lyrics yourself?” so I said, “okay, I will give it a try.” But if I hadn’t been able to put my own worldview into words I would have probably asked the composer to do it.

――Do you feel like you prioritise the world views of the music when you are writing the lyrics yourself?

First and foremost I think that listening to music should make you feel good. It’s about the placement of words and how you feel a certain atmosphere. I'm not saying that I dislike writing lyrics but depending on each song, I think I would like to decide whether I want to write the lyrics or not.

――So you will not write the lyrics for everything.

I really don’t think so.

――Is it very difficult for you to write lyrics?

I guess because I was so in love with the song I set some really high goals for myself. It took a lot of time. The production period was in January so the cold weather made it even more difficult for me, I was constantly sitting there and sighing into the cold air. “Phew...” *laughs*

――The cold season is perfect to let out heavy sighs *laughs*.

It really wasn’t easy. But I didn’t see it as hardship. The feeling that I really wanted to sing this song was too strong. At the end of the day I managed to write the lyrics thinking that I wanted to sing this song as soon as possible.

――If you can't write proper lyrics you won’t have a song to sing.

That's right. "I can't sing it right now so I have to deal with this situation!” So that’s how I spent all of January, singing and writing and lots of sighing, trying to put my feelings into words. Lots of trial and error, “no, this doesn’t sound right, no that doesn’t resonate well here,...”

Everything leads to the feeling of "doing music and having fun".

――When I listened to the song I got this really silly impression, I felt like, "this is all so KEIKO-like, bursting with KEIKO-ness."

Why is that? *laughs*

――You put so much thought into your singing, I was able to hear all sorts of colours and sceneries in your voice, a great mixture. So the first thing that came to mind was, "this is all so KEIKO-like" *laughs*

Hahaha! *laughs*

――Overlapping colours, getting glimpses of the shades below, a multicolour structure. How was it when you actually sang the song?

Rather than writing the lyrics first and singing the song afterwards I wrote the song and sang it at the same time. So when I had finally completed the song, it felt like a natural progression.

――It’s not so much about trying to sing something that is already written but more about finding the right words to express the song properly?

It's difficult to put all of this into words... I wanted to use sharp sounds and vowels in my singing that would emphasise the images emerging from the melody. This is what I struggled with the most. It took me some time to find a balance where the melody and words would match.

――You wanted them to match?

Yes. I think that's because of my activities as a member of Kalafina, my ears are trained in such a way and used to that kind of harmony.

――Probably because you have heard such a wide variety of singing styles, this made you very particular about how things are supposed to sound like.

When the lyrics are written by someone else and the notes and words are fitting nicely together I never thought it would actually be that hard. But from the very first moment I started to work on my song, I really gained an understanding for the difficulty of writing lyrics yourself.

――When you are thinking about that you quickly realise that what composers and songwriters are doing is simply awesome, it’s out of this world.

I think it's amazing. At the end of the day I am just a newbie so all I can do is a beginner’s work. You have to be aware of yourself and what you can do. That’s something I have learned, you can’t do anything in life unless you are fully aware of your capabilities. The very final vocal recording was a lot of fun though.

――I think it's great that you can do music and have fun at the same time.

That's right! It's so much fun!

――Do the words and themes used in the lyrics reflect some parts of yourself?

Yes, some parts for sure. But... hmmm... it's difficult. This is my first time talking about writing lyrics but I am not really sure how much I am supposed to say? I guess it’s all hidden within the lyrics somewhere, I think everyone should go and look for those parts.

――I guess it all comes down to the individual interpretation, listeners discover the things that they want to hear?

I agree. There are all kinds of people who are doing their very best every day and working hard. I want to create and sing music for those people. I'm most happy when they can listen to my music and find something that resonates with their own lives.

―― Now I would also like so hear a few things about the second song "Be Yourself." It made me feel great to listen to it while going for a run.

Thank you, I am so happy to hear that *laughs*. I have also done some of my workouts and muscle training while listening to “Be Yourself”, it really got me motivated.

――It's such an exhilarating song!

For me it has this particular vibe of youthfulness. We are all at an age now where youth feels quite far away, doesn’t it? *laughs*

――Well, yes... *laughs*

However, the beat and momentum of the song drown out any sort of embarrassment you might feel, there is a kind of overeagerness conveyed. I wanted to sing a song that you can just listen to without having to think or worry about anything, you can just have a great time.

Maybe one could say she is a “Sound Otaku”

――It's been a while since the release. An official Twitter account has also been launched, it’s something you have never done, right? Have you seen some of the fan reactions?

I am seeing them. But for the most part I am busy with making more music at the moment so I am leaving a lot of that work to my staff members. I am very much aware of everyone’s feedback though so thank you!

――How was everyone’s feedback?

As you mentioned earlier, people were just really happy to hear my voice and bothing but my voice in two whole songs. Others said they were really curious to hear more of my music. I was particularly happy to hear everyone’s impressions regarding my singing voice.

――In the future you will most likely release lots of albums and sing your music live at concerts. Have you already thought about the fact that you will be standing alone on stage then? Have you been imagining yourself doing that?

I have already started to research different ways on how to best express my songs with my newly created singing voice. I am doing image training, taking care of my voice and preparing myself for live performances

――What do you mean by expressing the songs?

As I have said earlier, I started to make music again because I really loved the melody so I wanted to add my voice to it. During the production process I spend a lot of time in the studio and I try to find a voice and sound that fits the song perfectly. This period right now is super fun since I am putting everything on the line, I am taking a lot of risks. Depending on the song, my voice and singing style can be completely different.

――That’s quite something. It’s very stoic of you that you can find so much joy in that.

I wonder if stoic is the right word here... I think “otaku” would describe it better.

――So you are a music otaku?

Maybe a sound otaku? *laughs*. Wondering about what kinds of sounds are echoing in the background while listening to a song...Being curious about the base-line... It’s these things I am super interested in. My infatuation with sound (“otomo”) is very strong. The word otomo is probably made up by Kajiura-san *laughs*.

――It’s a good word. A word that accurately describes an infatuation with sounds. I feel like you are even more infatuated than you used to be in the past.

Everyone around me is making the pursuit of my infatuation possible, that’s why I am so determined. I am just really grateful.

――After listening to everything you have just said right now, I think everyone will feel the need to check out your songs.

I want everyone to listen to them. I think they are both very interesting *laughs*.

――Speaking of which, is there anything particular you would like to share with your fans before they listen to your songs?

Not really. Everyone should freely decide whether they want to listen or not. And they should listen with an open mind. I feel like my motivations, infatuations and interests are very different from what the fans like. If I share all the aspects and points of my songs that I consider special then fans are very likely to focus on only that.

――Yes, that’s true, if you provide all this information beforehand then people may end up being biased.

I want everyone to enjoy my music with an open mind, without being bound by preconceived notions.

How she currently feels about 10 years of Kalafina

――I would also like to hear your thoughts on Kalafina. Looking back, how do you feel about the 10 years as part of Kalafina?

My 10 years as part of Kalafina, well, yes, they are the reason I can sing now. It’s the binding link of everything, it’s why I can sing now, it’s why I want to sing, it’s the axis of my very existence. That’s what my time in Kalafina means to me.

――Now that you have released your solo debut single in May all three of you have started your solo activities. How do you feel about Hikaru and Wakana's solo activities?

I want them to do their very best and achieve everything that they couldn’t achieve as members of Kalafina. I think that’s the only thing I can say about that...I think there is no point in comparing our solo activities. I just want them to sing with all their might.

――I think for many people Kalafina is still very important. I am assuming there are quite a few fans who yearn to hear Kalafina’s harmony again one day when they listen to all of your solo works.

Our lives as singers is based on that very harmony so I am honestly very happy that many people are still thinking that way. We put all of our heart into Kalafina’s music and activities so to know that everyone wants to hear that harmony again feels like an affirmation of our hard work, it makes me very happy.

――Last but not least, please share a final message for the fans.

In the past I have talked about all kinds of thing with SPICE. I am happy to once again share my thoughts with SPICE now that I am starting out on this new path in my career. My solo activities as KEIKO have just begun, I am really enjoying making music. I am looking forward to the day when I can sing my songs for you, please look forward to that day as well! Thank you for your lifelong support. *laughs*

#kalafina #keiko #keiko solo debut #keiko solo work #my translation #my translations #spice interview #such a long interview #I am dead #my baby #everyone #please read this #the amount of candy that was needed to finish this translation #there goes my diet XD

48 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 5 years ago

Text

(abandoned) i don’t want it at all

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: sugar baby au, sugar-babies-scamming-the-same-daddy-au rating: mature themes words: 2.3k warnings: sugar babies a/n: i would have liked 2 finish this one and maybe i will one day but for now here is the incomplete first draft that makes me laugh still

His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

(1)

Jeongguk was broke.

It was his own fault - that’s the price you pay for enrolling in University, studying something he probably doesn’t actually need but loves. It’s all fine and dandy studying Music until he realises that famous musicians don’t become famous because they got a degree. Ask any musician how they made it big and they’ll reply with good luck and hard work, not some fancy degree that means nothing unless you’ve got the talent to be successful. Well shit, now it’s in perspective, Jeongguk’s spending all this money on a degree that’s probably not going to make a difference when the time comes.

Now he has a part-time job at a random pizza takeaway that makes no money because Dominoes opened up across the street a few weeks ago, and he’s barely making enough to buy him more than two packets of instant noodles at a time. His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

This evening, the library is fairly quiet. Across the stacks are small candles inside black lanterns, a Harry Potter-esque vibe filling the room as the clock rolls into ten. Jeongguk loves when the school year ends, because for the past week, it’s only been the sad and broke music kids doing exams, meaning the library is virtually empty now that everybody else has finished up. Jeongguk’s last exam was yesterday. Huffing out a sigh that turns one of the only other heads in the library in his direction, he stretches his arms up over his head and arches his head backwards.

“Where’re you going over summer?”

Yoongi is another sad and broke music student, a third-going-fourth year who met Jeongguk in the music society during Jeongguk’s first weekend at University. Leaning his chair back on two legs, he throws a paper ball into the air and catches it, not even looking at Jeongguk as he talks to him.

Jeongguk shrugs in reply, tapping his nails against his laptop. “Dunno. Home, I guess.”

“Any plans?” Yoongi asks. “Wanna go to Lollapalooza?”

“Can’t afford it,” Jeongguk sighs, as Yoongi forces out a, “me neither” in between a chortled laugh. “And I don’t know. Probably going to have to get another job.”

“Good,” replies Yoongi, yawning loudly. “You can’t keep working at that shithole. I’m your only friend, and even I go to Dominoes instead of where you work.” As an afterthought, he looks at Jeongguk with a small frown, “sorry.”

Shaking his head in reply, Jeongguk slumps in his chair and sighs once again. Yoongi’s just suddenly put it all into perspective for him; Yoongi’s his only friend, he works a job that barely puts a meal onto his plate, and it’s not going to get any easier.

The ball in Yoongi’s hand begins to bounce again and Jeongguk glances over at the student librarian, who buries her head into the crook of her elbow and sleeps her way through her night-shift. It’s only Jeongguk, Yoongi and four others in the library right now; none of them are reading, none of them are doing anything particularly productive. Two students are tucked into an alcove pouring wine quite openly into small glasses with a board of chess unfolded out on the table, the others on computers, wishing the night away. Jeongguk just doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, to where his roommate and his loaded to the brim stomach of Chinese food and unhealthy diets is waiting for him.

“You planning on staying here all night again?” questions Yoongi. He probs his feet up onto the partitioner under the table, accidentally kicking Jeongguk’s ankle in the process. “Sorry,” he adds.

“Yep,” Jeongguk replies, popping the ‘p’. “I’d literally rather sleep on the boys changing room floors than go back to my dorm.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s disgusting, don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m being deadass,” Jeongguk insists, his eyes blown wide. “Want to swap dorms for the night? Ten dollars and you’ll be dry heaving in the hallway before midnight.”

“I’ll pass. Either way, you know my apartment is always open for you,” Yoongi reminds him. “You’ve got a key. Come by once you’ve finished whatever it is you’re doing. My wifi’s out.”

Another sigh. Jeongguk’s not defeated his boredom yet, the twitch in his fingers to do something still there. If he goes to Yoongi’s apartment now, he’ll just annoy him with the need to do something energetic, and Jeongguk knows best that Yoongi values his quiet time on an evening.

“Okay. Well, I’ll stay here for a little bit, and come by when I’m done,” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn that would otherwise expose the fact that he’s absolutely knackered. “I won’t make a sound.”

“You will, you always do, I just pretend not to notice because I love you.” Yoongi says I love you with a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out with a fake gag that Jeongguk knows just proves how much he cares. Yoongi’s good like that, the more subtle type of loving older brother that Jeongguk’s been deprived of all his life. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Won’t.”

Yoongi picks himself up and irons the aches out of his shoulders. “Cool. Stay safe and smart, Guk.”

“I can’t do both,” he sighs sadly, and Yoongi collects his bag and affectionately throws the paper ball at Jeongguk’s head. It bounces off and lands near one of the bookshelves. Neither picks it up, and Yoongi leaves the library. It dawns on Jeongguk three minutes after Yoongi leaves him that he’s actually really fucking lonely. Add that to the big long list of things Jeongguk is this year: friendless, broke, sad and lonely. God, he needs a hobby.

He also needs money. Very badly. After opening his phone and banking app and realising that he’s so close to slipping into the red, Jeongguk refrains from spending what he has left on something fried and takeaway and opens Google. One click, a few types: How to make money fast. Google will know what to do.

Jeongguk scrolls. Take online surveys and get paid NOW! No. Review apps and earn money! Not enough phone memory to download an app to review it, he scrolls down. Lonely AND Horny? Get yourself a Sugar Daddy TODAY! Oh? He’s listening.

The blog that opens up as he clicks the link is somebody’s personal blog, the title in a gross and thick font that Jeongguk almost can’t read. They talk a while about why you shouldn’t become a sugar-baby, but Jeongguk remembers that one time Tana Mongeau did a storytime on how she had a Daddy and got a lot of money, and Jeongguk’s got assets. He’s smart, has abs on a good day, and his dick isn’t half bad looking. That’s what Yooa had said to him, anyway. Finally, there’s a hyperlink to Seeking Arrangements, and Jeongguk feels kind of overwhelmed.

At least once in their lives, everybody’s thought about being a Sugar Baby. Jeongguk definitely has, all the damn time when he’s sitting around at work doing nothing because they’re about as busy as one can expect for a pizza place with two stars and a rival Dominoes parallel from the front. He’s even read about experiences, where people meet their daddies or mommies on the streets or through apps- and there was even that one crazy story about somebody’s Principal becoming their sugar Daddy, or something, he can’t quite remember. Regardless, Jeongguk’s entertained this thought before.

He looks down at himself. If he really tried his best, he could be kind of good at it. Without sounding conceited, Jeongguk’s good looking. What lets him down at school is the fact that he always dresses lazily and ignores people, rejects requests to go out and then complains to Yoongi about not having friends who hang out with him. All he needs is to fix his appearance, upload his best photographs, and he could secure the bag quite easily.

Jeongguk fills in the boxes and makes an account. petkoo is what he decides to name himself, and he picks his best selfie off Instagram as an icon. He leans back, as if a look from far away will change the way it looks. It’ll do. Luckily for him, he’s into men and women, and it just so happens that American men are both the dumbest and easiest to please. Suddenly, he’s excited, his leg bouncing under the table until he hits his knee and stops. The student librarian raises her head quickly, afraid that a member of staff’s come in to supervise. They haven’t, and so she drops her head again. Ten fifty three, ish. Jeongguk blinks sleepily.

All that’s left to do is get his account verified, and life will be forever changed.

(He hopes).

(2)

Yoongi’s apartment is off campus, about fifteen minutes away if he’s walking. It’s small, but significantly bigger than Jeongguk’s dorm on campus, and decorated with whites and creams, big and open windows letting in golden light, when the time’s right. It’s the type of apartment you saw online, on Tumblr posts or in movies, looking like a perfect backdrop - sometimes, Jeongguk can’t believe that Yoongi lives here, and wakes up every morning to the view of the city below his window, power lines like train tracks connecting houses, dangling fairy-lights on the trelacing of his across-the-street-neighbour’s rooftop.

That being said, Jeongguk technically lives here, too. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s actually stepped foot in his dorm at the same time as his roommate; he only goes in there to collect things one at a time. Today, for example, he had dropped by to empty out his small and pathetic wardrobe and put it inside one suitcase, wheeling it right up to Yoongi’s front door with a bright smile that Yoongi couldn’t say no to. His couch in the living room was Jeongguk’s comfortable bed when it wasn’t cold and when it was, Yoongi would huff and offer an invite into his bed, because he loves Jeongguk like he’s his baby brother, and it would suck if he died from pneumonia, or something. He said that to Jeongguk once. Jeongguk smiled for ten minutes afterwards.

Harry Potter plays on TV, the fourth movie because it’s Jeongguk’s favourite and Yoongi’s a sick man who can’t say no. It’s around five, and Jeongguk’s literally been holed up in Yoongi’s apartment the entire day. The most sunlight that he got was when he walked out of Yoongi’s house to take the trash out, and even then, the bin was in the shadows and the sun never touched his skin once. He can see the sunlight through the window, which technically counts. Yoongi cringes and takes away a plate from the coffee table.

“You’re allowed to stay at my place, as long as you clean up after yourself,” he says with a huff. His nose upturns with a scrunch, “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“By choice!” Jeongguk adds, pulling a thread out from his sock. “They’re too much hard work.”

“You’re just fucking lazy,” Yoongi points out. He dumps the plate in the sink and comes back to Jeongguk. “You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a silence. Then a sigh, “Yeah.”

Jeongguk loves staying at Yoongi’s place, especially when Yoongi is feeling particularly soft and lets Jeongguk do whatever he wants, given he’s not going to get Yoongi a noise complaint in the morning. The movie continues to play undisturbed, the sight of Beauxbatons’ carriage swooping over towards the runway leaving Jeongguk with an open-mouthed smile on his face and Yoongi folds his arms, burying himself further into the sofa. On the coffee table, Yoongi’s laid out some snacks, both his phone and Jeongguk’s laying down flat because it’s supposed to keep Jeongguk distraction free, even though he’s the type of friend to never be on his phone around his friends unless he absolutely needs to be.

Another huff is in Yoongi’s mouth, begging to be huffed out. Over on the coffee table, Jeongguk’s phone lights up with his lock screen of Sansa Stark blurred out by a notification, the ringer on loud. Attention is pulled from Dumbledore to the light, Jeongguk’s brows lifting with interest but his eyes immediately back on the TV.

“Yoongi,” he calls out, and Yoongi glances over, “can you see who it’s from?” Could be his Mom, it could be important.

The huff is released. “Come into my house and boss me around…” Yoongi mutters under his breath and reaches for Jeongguk’s phone, pressing the home button to read the notification. He’s silent for a long moment, and Jeongguk’s so enthralled in the movie that he doesn’t notice, not until Yoongi looks at Jeongguk with a confused and funny look, his top lip curled to his nostrils as he blurts: “Why the hell are Seeking Arrangements telling you you’re profile’s ready?”

Jeongguk looks away so fast from the television that Yoongi’s almost frightened. His eyes are wide and twinkling, “They’ve finished it?”

“What the fuck.”

“Gimme!” Jeongguk splutters, his hand diving towards his phone urgently. “Bro...it’s been like, five days.”

Yoongi is bewildered. “Why do you have an account? What-why-when…?”

“I don’t know, I need money and I thought it would be funny,” Jeongguk shrugs. His thumb moves quickly across his phone screen. “I can’t believe they’re done. I’m gonna be rich, Yoongi.”

“Do you know how sketchy half the people on that site are?” Yoongi questions. “Plus they’re all old and perverted men.”

“Rich men.”

“Rich, old and perverted,” Yoongi nods. “Guk, I know I said you needed another job...but this doesn’t qualify. I’d rather you flip paper thin pizzas.”

#me posting all my abandoned wips for attention and something to do #bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #sugar baby au #bts imagine #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jjk #gwoongi #abandoned

77 notes · View notes