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florrickandassociates · 3 years

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TGF Thoughts: 5x10-- And the violence spread.

So, that’s it for season five. I’m still trying to sort out how I feel about the season as a whole and Wackner’s arc. I’m hopeful that writing this will help me decide.

This episode has a Previously, and it’s rather conventional. I’m guessing it’s here to bookend the season, with conveying information being only a secondary objective.

Did we see Rivi scream, “You’re done, Wacko, you’re done! Canceled! Canceled!” in the last episode or is that new to this previously? I feel like I absolutely would’ve had things to say about a) Wackner being called “Wacko,” which has been RIGHT THERE this whole time, and b) the use of “Canceled,” which is a thing Rivi would never say but is VERY thematic (you know, cancel culture and also Wackner having a TV show and also this being a TV show that’s wrapping up* Wackner’s arc).

* The way things end this episode, I’d say we’re done with Wackner. The Kings have said they aren’t sure about the plan for season six, so never say never, but I think that if we see Wackner again, it will be as part of a different arc.

I went back to 5x09 and while we do see the same shots of Rivi screaming, whatever he’s saying in 5x09 is in Spanish. So either he was saying this in Spanish or the dialogue here is totally new.

I’m a little sad that I knew in advance Robert King had directed this episode, because I want to know how long it would’ve taken me to guess. I’d like to think this first shot, of Diane flopping down on her bed in a very pretty floral print dress, then Kurt flopping down in the opposite direction, would’ve given it away. We usually don’t get shots that are both striking and kinda balanced unless RK’s directing.

This also has some big season three opener vibes—the scene where Diane turns to Kurt and says, “I’m happy,” thus jinxing the entire season.

Diane and Kurt are about to go on vacation, which means, of course, that Diane and Kurt are definitely not about to go on vacation. I’ve watched 12 seasons of this show; I know all the tricks!

If I didn’t get it from the initial staging of the opening shot, the camera panning to Diane and Kurt’s suitcases and then back would’ve been another clue that RK directed. He ALWAYS has the camera in motion.

I love that Diane’s travel outfit is a dress you could wear to a fancy party and a statement necklace. Of course it is.

And if I needed evidence that RK and MK wrote this episode (which I didn’t; it is a finale so I knew they wrote it), Diane quoting Waiting for Godot is a clue there.

I really should read Waiting for Godot, shouldn’t I?

“Wow. Educated and a good lay,” Kurt responds. I know that the political stuff between Diane and Kurt can get more than a little murky, but banter like this reminds me why they stay together and why politics never drive them apart. Also, it’s really nice to see Diane and Kurt have some fun banter that isn’t about politics.

And Diane making kissing noises and asking Kurt to meet her halfway! This just feels like I’m spying on someone’s private life and I love it. Not in a voyeuristic way, since this is actually a little uncomfortably private, but in a, “ah, yes, these do feel like real people” way. This is the kind of “a little goes a long way” character moment I always want more of, and Kings episodes ALWAYS include stuff like this.

And there it is. The phone rings as Diane and Kurt are about to start out for the airport. Diane thinks the call must be for Kurt, but it’s for her. It’s a very flustered Liz, informing her that STR Laurie’s execs are on their way to the office for a surprise visit.

If the Diane/Kurt scene didn’t tell me that Robert King directed, I almost certainly would’ve gotten it from the sudden cut to Liz, walking through the hallways and doing a million things at once with a ton of background noise. No one loves chaos the way Robert King loves chaos.

This episode STRONGLY reminds me of the Wife season five finale. It is equally chaotic and also spins a ton of plates. But, mostly, the similarity I see between the two episodes is that they are both extremely fun and captivating to watch because of how much momentum they have, but everything just feels slightly hollow and not exactly focused on the thing you want to see.

(Shout out to my friend Ryan, who messaged me the 5x22 comparison before I could message it to him!)

I decided I should rewatch the first few minutes of 5x22. I am now 15 minutes into 5x22 of Wife and 2 minutes into 5x10 of Fight. Oops.

Apparently, STR Laurie planned a surprise visit because they heard RL was dysfunctional. You don’t say!

I felt like 5x09 concluded with STR Laurie being won over by Allegra and the RL team, so this is a bit of a surprising place to start the episode. But, since Diane seems surprised too, I’ll allow it.

Now Liz and Diane have 90 minutes to agree on a financial plan! Kurt’s on the phone with the airline before Diane even hangs up with Liz.

Diane is determined not to lose out on her vacation and asks Kurt to change the flight to 8:00. “Kurt, we are going on this vacation if it kills me!” is a line I would worry was foreshadowing on basically any other show.

The RL/STRL PowerPoint template is pretty ugly. They want to call 2021 their best year yet, thanks to the deal between Rivi and Plum Meadow Farms we saw last week. Even though we saw champagne and signatures, the deal isn’t done yet because Plum Meadow can back out if Rivi goes to jail.

RK also loves close-ups more than any other director on the show; I do not love close-ups.

The Plum Meadow deal is such a big deal that for the quarter, they go from $45 million to $5 million without it. They should just not say numbers. I can believe it’s big enough to take them from a modest profit to being behind projections or whatever, but I can’t believe that they have $5 million in other business and $40 million on this one deal.

It seems that Rivi was arrested. I don’t think it is ever said in this episode why. I assume the arrest relates to his behavior in Wackner’s court, since there were police officers there, and I suppose that Rivi is a big enough deal the police would actually take him to real court, but are we not going to address the weirdness of Rivi being arrested in a fake court where his employees are being tried, then taken to a real court by the same people who just an episode ago were disillusioned with real court? This seems like a plot point.

Carmen on a frantic phone call in the backseat of a car feels very 7x22.

Who is James that Carmen has in her contacts!? And why does everyone always put Liz in their contacts as “Elizabeth Reddick” when everyone calls her Liz?

Carmen calls Marissa to go argue in Vinetta’s court since she’s on Rivi duty. Carmen doesn’t take Marissa’s job in Wackner’s court seriously and then notes that this instruction is coming straight from Liz, so Marissa falls in line.

Wackner’s case of the week is about rural Illinois wanting to form its own state separate from Chicago. There’s a farmer who feels like his tax money is only going to the big city and he wants it to stay in his community.

They’ve just now added stage lighting to the set of Wackner Rules, dunno why they wouldn’t have done that earlier!

I don’t know what standing you’d have to have to bring a case about wanting to divide the state in two to court, or if this is even something a court would or should decide, but, sure, Wackner and Cord, go for it. There are no rules!

This map splitting Illinois into two new states that Cord is holding is a dumb prop because Galena, where this farmer is from, is in the same section as Chicago. Do I pause every reference to Chicago on this show and then google information to see if the writers bothered to look it up or pretend they’ve ever set foot in Chicago? You know I do.

“Secession!” the audience screams. Does the audience of Wackner Rules really want to see this?

A Good Fight Short! And it really is short: “Stop this obsession with secession and breaking up the Union. It’s boring and it’s dumb, end of song.” I feel like that’s the thesis statement for this episode, or one of them (that this episode seems to have about ten thesis statements is kind of my problem with this episode, tbh). This episode is very much about danger of things becoming too fractured—the COTW, the copycat courts, the firm drama—and I feel like the writers come around to just saying no, this is enough, we need structure and consistency.

But more on that later. MUCH more on that later.

Marissa is swearing more because “the world has required it.” She notes this to Wackner as she calls him out on the secession case. Cord barges in.

Take a look at the employee of the month poster on the back of the door at 5:39. Then at 5:40, look at what’s in the box just to the right of the center of the screen: it’s an employee of the month poster with Wackner on it! Cute easter egg. (Would Marissa definitely notice this and have questions? Yes. Is this here as a cute easter egg for eagle-eyed fans? Almost certainly.)

“Insane is just one step away from reality if you get people to believe, and you know what makes people believe? TV.” Cord explains when Marissa asks how they can possibly be litigating this case. That’s thesis statements two and three, folks. The first is that if you get people to believe, then anything is possible, which sounds like a tagline for a Disney movie but is actually super dangerous; the second is that reality TV is a way to persuade people and change opinions.

So we’ve got: (1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. Let’s see if there are more.

(Yes, these theses do kind of add up to a whole—The rules don’t matter, so if you persuade people, through reality tv, you get factions of people believing their own sets of rules and facts—but what I'm interested in tracking throughout this episode is how well the writers actually bring these theses together.)

(And this is setting aside that key themes in previous episodes, that I think many of us were looking for resolution on, included outlining the flaws with the extant “real” justice system and exploring the role of prison in the justice system. From this episode, I don’t think the writers ever intended to really tackle either of those issues. That’s fine—I'm not sure that TGF has something to say about prison abolition and I don’t want a thought experiment where the writers actually try to fix the legal system—but feels a bit disjointed. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, but 5x08 and 5x09 needed to do a better, clearer job of setting up this finale. The key themes of Wackner’s arc were always present, but they needed to slowly narrow the scope so the resolution felt inevitable and clear. Instead, we spent time on things like parking spaces (when we could’ve had a real plot about how Wackner’s court gains legitimacy through violence, incarceration, and playing on people’s frustration with the real systems) and Del’s focus groups (when we could’ve instead done a plot about Wackner gaining fans who wanted to use his methods to do ill). Everything I just mentioned in the parentheticals is in the show! It’s not subtext! We see it all! We see Cord use violence and prisons to enforce Wackner’s rulings; we see the cops turn to Wackner out of frustration; we see that the people drawn to Wackner Rules and to Wackner’s court are increasingly sounding more and more like right-wing populists! I can’t be too hard on this arc because, again, all these ideas are there. I’m not coming up with them on my own!)

I’m just saying: this ending would’ve been a lot clearer and a lot more interesting had the writers focused on what I mentioned above instead of the distractions of the last two episodes.

Whew, that was a ramble. Hope you’re ready for more rambles.

On a similar note, I’d like to reiterate my problems with how the writers used Marissa after the private prison reveal. I don’t have much more to say than what I wrote last week, but it’s another example of the same problem. Marissa objecting to Wackner’s court because she notices what it’s becoming and how Cord plans to use it for political gain (two Illinoises (??) changes the Senate and the Electoral College...) always was going to be part of the endgame. Marissa only seriously objecting after the fourth or fifth line Wackner crosses feels bizarre.

Cord does NOT like that there is another court, and wants to protect Wackner’s IP. Wackner, as we saw last episode, does not feel threatened by the other court. In fact, he seems to be excited by it.

I love Liz questioning Diane’s outfit like it’s unprofessional. It’s a little low-cut and showy, but I don’t think unprofessional is the word I’d use for it.

Now they have 45 minutes to decide The Future Of The Firm and Diane wants to be considered a name partner. Oh, that debate is still raging?! Every time I think it’s done it comes back, which should probably be a sign to Diane that her options are to leave and start something new, jettison Madeline and the others, or step down. Staying on as name partner and calling it a black firm is just not an option.

“Diane, there is a split in the firm that...” Liz starts, before asking some associates to leave the room. Ha! The reveal Liz and Diane aren’t alone is a pretty fun touch.

“The Black equity partners don’t want to be in your work group,” Liz informs Diane. “Because they think they’ll be punished by this firm?” Diane asks. “No, that’s paranoia. We don’t punish here,” Liz responds. “Of course you do. My fracking client. My union client. The Black lawyers who work on those cases—they're considered traitors” Diane says. “Because those CEOs are racists,” Liz counters.

Lots going on here, and I’m not sure I understand it all. Why would the equity partners—who are partners—feel like they’re being punished by being in Diane’s work group? (And also what does a “work group” mean and why haven’t they talked about it in the past?) When Diane starts talking about the lawyers who staff her clients, she’s not talking about equity partners; she is talking about associates.

And people are giving associates shit for working on Diane’s clients whom they happen to be staffed on!? That’s sad, though believable.

“So what do we do? Only bring in clients who can pass the racial smell test?” Diane asks. I mean, actually, yes. IF the goal is to be a black firm and to have that designation mean something in moral terms rather than marketing terms, then yes.

“It’s okay if you’re a drug kingpin like Rivi, but it’s not okay if you want me as lead attorney?” Diane says. Also, yes. Diane makes good points here.

“Diane, this is not about you,” Liz counters. Um, sure, but it has to be about something, Liz. Unless you’re trying to build a firm you don’t control that makes 88% of its revenue from a drug dealer (40 million out of 45 million this quarter = 88%; I told you they shouldn’t give me numbers) but happens to have black people in charge, you have to grapple with this question. I don’t think anyone who’s fighting for the firm to be a black-led (not owned, bc STRL) business is the type of person who thinks that having a black-led firm that does all the same shit as any other firm is in itself a good thing, so you NEED to address your client list. Madeline is anti-Rivi, anti-Cord, anti-Wolfe-Coleman (the rapist guy), pro-social justice, and pro having a black led firm.

“I mean, why... why do white people personalize this?” Liz asks. “Oh, now I’m just a white person?” Diane responds. I... don’t know what to do with this! Liz is right that Diane is taking this personally; Diane is right that Liz needs to deal with the rest of the client list. But no one is saying the things that REALLY need to be said: That all their decisions are meaningless in the shadow of STRL, and that deciding to be a black led firm isn’t the end of the discussion if they haven’t decided what types of clients they want to have.

“What happened, Liz? Last year we were intent on an all-female-run law firm,” Diane starts. Oh, THIS AGAIN! Diane never learns, does she? She never seems to realize that no one she’s approached with this idea is NEARLY as in love with it as she is. She probably still wonders to herself why Alicia—who partnered with her at the end of season seven basically just because it was the easiest, most frictionless thing to do—didn't seem more committed to their firm.

“Diane, there is history here that we are trying to...” Liz says, but Diane cuts in to note that women (women like Diane Lockhart!) have history too! In fact, she’s spent “35 years fighting gender discrimination to get to this position.” “And we have spent 400 years fighting racial discrimination to try and, you know...” Liz starts, before cutting herself off to get back to the ticking clock.

Sigh. Just talk about the actual thing instead of talking around the thing, guys. Diane is obviously deserving of A name partnership, in the abstract. This is an undeniable fact. And while Diane is definitely making this about herself rather than the big picture, I don’t think Liz trying to trump Diane’s 35 year career with the history of black people is going to win her any arguments? Like, just say what you mean and say it clearly. What Liz, I think, wants to express is that Diane’s individual accomplishments aren’t the issue here and everyone thinks she’s deserving (though Liz suggested Diane was not deserving a few episodes ago, which I didn’t understand then and don’t understand now). The problem is that Diane is trying to fight a battle that’s about something much larger than herself with, “but I'm a good lawyer!”

And that’s KIND OF what Liz is saying here, if I add all her sentences up and read between the lines, but, again, why not just say it?

“Alright, now we have 43 minutes to fix race relations, gender relations. STR Laurie’s gonna fire our asses, and you know it,” Liz says. I am curious what that would look like. Wouldn’t that just mean that STRL wouldn’t control them anymore? I’m sure being fired would be bad and all, but wouldn’t it free them from the contract they wanted out of last year?

“Let’s split the firm down the middle. I hire half the lawyers, you hire the other half,” Diane suggests. What does this mean? Why are you hiring your employees? Huh?

“You hire the white associates, and I hire the black associates?” Liz confirms. This seems like a very bad idea that would make things a lot worse and open them up to lawsuits! I also still do not know what they’re even talking about. And I don’t know why Allegra isn’t a part of this conversation.

“I’m not saying it’s good. I’m just saying it’s what we’re left with. It's what we can agree on,” Diane says. I really wish I understood what “hire” meant in this context because I don’t understand why they have to split anything or why this has to be done now and I don’t understand why this would possibly be a good solution. Can you imagine the backlash when people realize all the white people report to Diane and all the black people to Liz and that people were taken off of the accounts they’ve worked on for years to accomplish this? And this must be something that the employees would know about eventually; otherwise they could just randomly assign half to Liz and half to Diane.

I’m sad Madeline isn’t in this episode because I feel like we needed to see more of her POV as well as the associate POV. I don’t really understand the divides at play within the firm or what the staff and other partners are asking for, but I suspect it isn’t this.

Hallucination Jesus is back, and at least there’s actually a point to him this time (he shows up when Jay is in Vinetta’s court and reminds Jay that Vinetta will rule based on her religious beliefs). I still dislike the hallucinations.

Jay advises Marissa, who is Jewish, to talk a lot about Jesus in her defense.

Charmaine Bingwa is really great as Carmen, and obviously she is not fluent in Spanish, but it’s so funny to me that the only time you can hear that she’s Australian is when she’s trying to say Oscar like she’s speaking Spanish.

"I know you’re hiding something when you speak English,” Rivi says to Carmen. Heh.

“Community court” is such a nice, unthreatening term for referring to Wackner and his copy cats. Thanks for that, Carmen!

It’s a smart plan to mention Jesus a lot, I guess, but Jay and Marissa both should’ve realized that Vinetta is too smart to tolerate obvious pandering. I’m a little surprised Jay doesn’t get up and argue since Marissa is, obviously, not familiar with the New Testament.

Marissa wins this round with facts and logic.

Why is the judge who was handling Rivi’s previous charge now in bond court? Make it make sense.

I like that Carmen calls out the ASA for swearing hahaha

Why... would this Matteo kid just casually mention he was holding a gun, omg.

In Vinetta’s court, you can be charged with murder and tried because... you had a gun and also there were murders at other times. Coolcoolcool no problems here.

Community courts for civil cases? Sure. That’s basically arbitration. Community courts for criminal cases? Bad, bad, bad idea.

Vinetta’s reasoning: “Those murders happened on our street, and the police haven’t convicted anyone because they don’t care. We care. This is self-defense. And how is it different from your court?” Aside from the whole imprisoning people in her basement thing, Vinetta’s not wrong. I almost brought this up last week but hesitated because I couldn’t remember the details enough to decide if I wanted to recommend it, but there’s a book I read a few years ago that seems relevant here: Ghettoside by Jill Leovy. Again, been a while so don’t take this as a wholehearted endorsement or anything, but from what I remember, the central issue at the heart of the book (it’s non-fiction) is that a poor black community (I think in LA?) doesn’t trust the police (in part) because the police don’t solve murders, and then with no way of getting justice through the court system, there’s more violence as a stand-in for justice. https://www.vox.com/2016/8/26/12631962/ghettoside-jill-leovy-black-crime

I’m not sure if that’s QUITE what Vinetta is saying but it seems similar, and it’s a decent point (though not a justification for her court). Why should she trust the system to improve her community when it’s ignored her community for years?

I like that the writers chose two very different, very understandable characters for their community courts. It’s easy to see why Wackner and Vinetta feel the need for alternative courts; it’s easy to see why others would trust them. This arc doesn’t really work unless there’s a legitimate frustration with existing systems...

Marissa calls Wackner’s court a “joke,” which she should understand by now isn’t the case. (Marissa’s smart; she knew it wasn’t a joke the second she saw David Cord get involved.)

Vinetta accuses Wackner of copying her court, which alarms Marissa. This isn’t addressed again, and I don’t know if it’s true! I could really go either way on this. On the one hand, I absolutely believe that Wackner saw/heard about it, liked it, and did it himself without thinking much of it—and if this is the case, then the ending where Vinetta gets in trouble for violating Wackner’s IP is a lot more of a gut punch. On the other hand, I don’t really feel like the seeds for this were planted. We see Wackner innovate a lot and try new things and he has an explanation for why he does everything—how much of that is Vinetta? And Vinetta clearly watches the show and likes it or she wouldn’t have recognized Marissa, so it’s a little hard for me to just believe her claim when literally all I know about her is she has a court that looks like Wackner’s and she is aware of and feels positively towards Wackner rules. Also, Wackner knows about Vinetta’s court (from Marissa) and sounded excited about it last episode. Sure, he didn’t necessarily know which one it was, exactly, but I assume if he’d copied the idea and then heard about a case involving people from the exact same community where he found the idea... his reaction would be different. So IDK. My reasons for doubting Vinetta’s claim are probably based a little too much in things I’m not meant to spend that much time paying attention to.

“I fucked up. It’s in the same court, but now it’s a murder case,” Marissa tells Diane. I do like hearing characters admit when they fucked up!

Diane hears that STRL is delayed, so she heads out to help Matteo. When she goes to change into her pantsuit, she finds that she’s grabbed Kurt’s bag by mistake. “Of course. That makes sense,” she reacts.

Diane pushes her flight to the next day, also telling Kurt, “And yes, for some reason, I took your suit instead of mine, so fuck it.” I love it when the characters feel like real people.

I am not sure why Kurt is getting to the office when Diane is leaving or why Kurt is there—to pick Diane up on the way to the airport, maybe?

Carter Schmidt walks into RL at the worst possible time, threating to blow up the Plum Meadow deal. Another 5x10 to Wife 5x22 similarity: he’s in both episodes.

Liz heads out to help Carmen with Rivi, and then STRL arrives. Oops.

Credits!

One thing about Wackner’s court that should definitely be a warning sign even though it seems noble: he ignores just about every warning sign, like this rowdy crowd screaming WE LOVE YOU WACKNER or the potential interests at play in a case about secession, because he thinks his fair judgement can overcome these obstacles. If the world worked that way, there’d be no need for his court in the first place.

Is anyone representing the State of Illinois in this trial? If not, then... how is it happening?

Dr. Goat, some dude who claims to have some hidden historical document about how Illinois is actually two states, is clearly making stuff up and yet Wackner indulges him and Cord. I feel about this the same way as I feel about the Devil’s Advocate: That Wackner would not allow this to go on for more than five seconds before calling bullshit and therefore there is no reason I should have to sit through it.

Why is some guy screaming, “No taxation without representation” like dude you absolutely have representation. But of course, I’m expecting him to be logical, and the point is that he is not.

Dr. Goat’s Latin phrases—shock!-- don’t actually translate into anything like what he said. Even though this information is verifiable by a quick google search, the crowd starts screaming “Liar!!!!” at Marissa. If only I could say this felt unrealistic.

Wackner asks Dr. Goat to bring in the document.

“You look like you’re heading to the beach,” Vinetta says to Diane, who looks like she’s heading somewhere but definitely not to the beach. Vinetta asks where Diane was headed on vacation. Diane says she’s headed to Lake Como, and unnecessarily clarifies that “It’s in Italy.” She assumes Vinetta doesn’t know that... but Vinetta does.

“So you’ve been there before?” Vinetta probes when Diane says it’s beautiful there. “Just once. We don’t get away often. We thought we’d splurge,” Diane says. Vinetta stares at her and smiles, and Diane hits her head on a basket that’s hanging in Vinetta’s kitchen. If I just write out the dialogue here, it sounds like a perfectly average conversation, but everything about this conversation is so charged: Diane is afraid to look like a wealthy white woman; Vinetta’s pleasantness is pretty clearly also a way of sizing up Diane.

Vinetta shows Diane pictures of neighborhood children and young adults killed as a consequence of gang violence. You can see she’s not trying to do anything other than help her community, even if her methods are highly questionable.

Diane argues that Matteo should be given over to the police; Vinetta disagrees: “The police haven’t arrested anyone for those murders, any of these. Since the BLM movement, they’ve pulled back from our streets. No one’s coming to help. That’s why I started this court. It’s not a joke to us.” Wait I’m sorry did Vinetta just blame lack of good detective work in black communities on... the BLM movement?!?!?! Is there any foundation to this!? Why can’t it just be that the police weren’t actually doing a good job of policing/finding justice and were being antagonistic towards the community instead of being helpful and no one trusted them?? That explanation is literally right there.

Jay suggests the Jesus strategy, again.

“It’s women! We could just move on, install men,” STRL guy says. I don’t know if he’s joking, but ugh. Also, what is RL if it has neither Diane nor Liz? A bunch of lawyers who will all promptly quit when they see their bosses get fired and a few opportunists?

Kurt is watching golf in Diane’s office, and the STRL people love it. Of course Kurt accidentally makes friends with them.

Court stuff happens. It’s not good for Rivi, and then Liz and Carmen come up with a theory: Plum Meadow is stalling the deal so they can find Rivi’s more stable second and make a deal with them instead.

Wackner giving Dr. Goat a single point on his stupid little board, for any reason related to his obviously fake totally unverified document, is dangerous. Why would you signal to a crowd that’s clearly not interested in fact that they have a point? That’s basically egging them on.

I know Wackner’s judgment is obviously not 100% sound—need I remind you of the PRIVATE PRISONS?-- but I thought it was more sound than this.

Wackner shows off his knowledge of paper and proves that Dr. Goat’s document is a fake. Why... did he just give Dr. Goat a point???

Or is he moving the point from Dr. Goat to Marissa?

Dr. Goat sounds like a fake name I would call a character in my recaps long past the point of anyone other than myself remembering the joke. (See: Mr. Elk)

“The truth is ugly. The only thing uglier is not pursuing it,” Wackner tells Marissa. How is taking on a case about very obvious falsehoods, funded by someone with a vested interest in the case, that gets people riled up, some noble pursuit of truth?

STRL and Kurt are now drinking and discussing hunting, while Diane’s arguing for Matteo in Vinetta’s living room. Vinetta is—as was always obvious, sorry Jay—far too smart to fall for this patronizing bullshit. She screams at Diane and plays back a recording (on a baby monitor) of Diane coaching Matteo to lie about his faith.

Soooooo yeah no you can’t do that, that is bad, recording conversations between lawyers and their clients is not good even if it leads to you exposing their schemes...

Then Vinetta places Diane under arrest, which obviously isn’t going to end well for Vinetta.

Liz and Carmen suggest a post-nup to Rivi to see if Isabel is planning on turning on him.

“I’m going to have to kill her,” Rivi says sadly. I don’t think Rivi will ever kill Isabel because we already did that with Bishop.

I’m going to assume that Diane chooses to stay in basement prison instead of calling one of the many, MANY, MANY people she could call to get her out/take down Vinetta because she doesn’t want the situation to be publicized or further deteriorate. That said, it’s really not clear why Diane just accepts being sentenced to basement prison with a cell phone.

Love the STRL man looking at that picture of Diane and HRC. They’ve gotten so much mileage out of that photo.

Wackner’s court has no rules, but at least since it has no rules, I can’t complain about how its rules make no sense!

What is this, debate practice?! Ugggghhhhh I can’t deal with this case for much longer.

Marissa takes a breath, then decides to pursue a strategy she knows could blow everything up.

“Then why care what Judge Wackner decides? Why should you defer to him? Why defer to anyone?” Cord says that’s the point—the people have decided to trust Wackner. “So if you don’t like this court’s decision, you’ll just start a new one?” Marissa asks. “I guess,” Cord concedes.

“So then why does this matter? This court?” “It matters only insofar as we continue to agree that it matters,” Cord says. “So if you don’t like Judge Wackner’s rulings, you can just ignore them and create a new court?”

Good point, Marissa. Good point. (Does this count as a thesis?)

“I’m guessing that I will like the way the judge decides,” Cord says. Well, that’s basically a threat.

Wackner takes a break and heads to chambers—without Marissa.

Kurt goes to visit Diane in basement jail. He’s granted a conjugal visit, which means Matteo gets moved up to the bedroom so Diane and Kurt can have some alone time.

Diane is staring at an image of Lake Como in her cell. I thought it was odd she brought a printout of her vacation destination with her, so I LOVED the line where she explains that Vinetta printed it out for her. COLD. (You know who also would’ve done this if they’d for some reason had a basement prison? Bree Van de Kamp. You know what show DID do a basement prison arc I’d rather forget? Desperate Housewives!)

I love how Diane responds to basement prison by making jokes non-stop.

“I thought the craziness would end with 2020,” Diane says. Nope.

Kurt brought alcohol; Diane brought pot gummies.

I love that Kurt has never had pot before. I was going to say that I bet Diane’s had a few experiences with recreational drugs when I remembered we had a whole damn season of Diane microdosing.

Christine and Gary’s acting and their chemistry really bring these basement prison scenes to life. The writing and directing are really sharp, but it’s the actors who make these scenes something special. You can tell Diane and Kurt love each other a lot. You can tell they’re disappointed about their vacation and exhausted by the chaos of the day. You can tell they’re in disbelief over this situation but also find it funny.

Didn’t Rivi and Isabel have an adult daughter who died of COVID a few episodes ago? Weird she isn’t mentioned in this scene. Maybe from a different marriage/relationship?

Isabel called the SA’s office because she thinks Rivi’s a threat? I think this is a power play.

Heh, Carmen saying, “Shut a black woman up!?” in disbelief in court. Love it.

Isabel instead flips her story and supports her husband and fights for his release. With no intervention from Plum Meadow, this gets the judge to free Rivi. I don’t really understand what’s happened here or why. I get the resolution, but I don’t get why Isabel called the SA or why this went away so quickly. I still don’t even get why Rivi’s been arrested.

Diane and Kurt put up Christmas lights for ambiance and talk about how they never go on vacation.

“I wanna see the pyramids on this coast!” drunk & high Kurt insists, hilariously. “I mean hemisphere. I like the Aztecs. They, they care about people.” I’m not going to transcribe the rest of the dialogue because it loses its magic when you’re not watching the scene.

After some fun banter about travel and movies, Diane changes the topic. “I should quit, shouldn’t I? That judge upstairs? She looked at me like I was the most entitled white bitch on the planet. And that’s the way they look at me at work.”

Kurt tries to say that’s not true, but Diane knows it is: “Yes they do. I’m the top Karen. And why do I care? I mean, I... I could find another firm. I could quit. I can’t impose my will on people who don’t want me.”

YES. I see a lot of debate over what the “right” thing to do is here. But I think we are long past “right” and “wrong.” At a certain point, this stops being about absolute moral truths. If Diane doesn’t have the respect of her partners and employees, that is a very real problem for the firm and for Diane. How can she continue to impose her will on a firm that doesn’t want her, all the while claiming to be an ally? (The back half of that sentence is the most important part.) Forget whether or not Diane “should” have to step down. Forget what’s “fair.” If the non-Diane leadership of RL thinks the firm should be a black firm, and the employees of RL think so too, and Diane just doubles down on her white feminism, she’s creating an even bigger problem for herself and ruining her reputation in the process.

Kurt stands up on the prison cot and warns Diane she might make a decision she’ll regret. This scene is so cute. Why can’t other shows do drug trips where the characters just act silly and have great chemistry? Why does it always have to be some profound meditation on death whenever characters get high?

“I think I like starting over. I like the chutes and ladders of life. I mean, I want the corner office, but then I wanna slip back to the beginning and fight for the corner office. I mean, I think maybe it’s better that I don’t get the top spot,” Diane says. LOVE to hear her admit this. I’m not sure I would’ve come to this conclusion on my own, and it sounds like it’s a bit more about how the writers like to write (you know, the “we love our characters to always be underdogs”) than Diane, but... you know what? I believe it. I fully believe it. Diane LOVES to fight, LOVES to feel like she’s in the right, LOVES power plays and to be making progress. She LOVES winning. The fact that she isn’t just choosing to retire right now, even though she’s past retirement age and has a great reputation, is in itself enough for me to believe that she would find it fun to repeatedly start over.

Plus, it’s a fun new direction for the show to take in season six, because they’ll get the same sense of conflict without the actual conflict. This season’s arc was firm drama and resulted in a firm name change... but it didn’t feel like a knock-off of Hitting the Fan. Diane trying to work her way back into power (I assume by becoming a better actual ally, otherwise doesn’t she just end up in the same exact situation?) should also provide conflict without being repetitive.

Hahahahahaha Kurt immediately reacting to this serious statement by being incredibly silly and horny and then Diane singing “I Touch Myself” to him, man, I love these two. I want to know the story behind this song choice.

Wackner emerges from his chambers. The score is tied. Wackner calls Cord corrupt and notes that they can’t just decide to call Downstate Illinois a new state based on his ruling. Now it’s thesis time!

“I was taken by Mr. Cord’s arguments of individualism. So much of our country has been built on people finding their own way, not being held back by bureaucracy. Yet, if we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos. And that was not the point of this court. Or at least not my point. Judgment for the defense. There will be no Downstate Illinois.”

“If we only follow individualism, that way lies chaos.” is probably the clearest of the many theses of this episode. To recap, we have:

(1) Factions are bad. (2) People are persuadable and the rules don’t actually matter. (3) Reality TV changes minds. (4) Institutions only exist when we collectively agree they exist (5) Individualism = chaos.

But let’s put a pin in this for now and let the chaos of individualism play out.

The crowd does not like Wackner’s decision, and decides that an appropriate way to express their displeasure is to make anti-Semitic remarks towards Marissa and then start throwing chairs. What nice people.

As the crowd goes totally 1/6 on Wackner’s court (thanks for pointing this out to me, Ryan—I cannot believe I didn’t make the connection myself!), the door slamming into the desk finally pays off since Marissa and Wackner are able to use it to keep the crowd from reaching them.

They immediately turn to the police, or they would, if they could get service. I’m sure it’s not a coincidence that as soon as things get bad, they want to involve the existing system.

Wackner Rules is, somehow, still taping in the midst of all the chaos. I don’t know if I think they’d air this, but someone certainly would. (I wonder if any of the cameras we see in these scenes are actually the cameras filming the other angles of the riot.)

Cord shakes his head and walks out, unharmed.

“You think they’ll kill us?” “I think they might,” Marissa and Wackner fret.

“My dad said the whole world would be a better place if everybody realized they were in the minority. ‘No matter where you are,’ he said, ‘Make sure you keep an eye on the exits, and make sure you’re closer to the exit than the Cossacks are to the entrance.’” Marissa says. Love Eli Gold coming through with thesis number 6 (and maybe thesis number 7).

“Your dad sounds a little paranoid,” Wackner says, correctly. Remember how I mentioned I accidentally wound up watching 5x22? Eli calls Alicia and responds to her hello with, “DISASTER!!!!” I miss him.

“He was, but he wasn’t wrong. He said, ‘Stay away from parades. They’re cute until they’re not. And don’t trust any pope who was Hitler Youth.” “What’s that law called?” “Godwin’s Law. My dad said anybody who argued for Godwin’s Law has never been near an actual crowd. Crowds love you, they hug you. Then they grab a gun and try to kill you.”

“Why? Why do they do that?” “I don’t know. Hate is fun. It’s clear-cut.”

I really like all of this. It is a little preachy, but it isn’t wrong and it’s self-aware. And, more importantly, it’s in character. I absolutely believe that Marissa would tell lots of stories about Eli in a moment of extreme stress. It’s nostalgic, probably comforting, and it also helps her feel like she’s on the right side with the right arguments. So, even backed into a corner, she’s still a winner: she has theory on her side.

Wackner speaks a foreign language (I do not know what language but I wish I did) and says, “A guy could get killed doing this,” which makes him and Marissa laugh as things crash around them.

Idk about you all, but I couldn’t really get myself to actually worry about their safety during this scene. Maybe Wackner’s, just a little, but I got the sense we were supposed to focus more on the chaos and destruction and monologuing than on the actual danger. That’s not to say the stakes didn’t feel high, but rather to say that this didn’t feel like an action sequence where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. The point was to watch the court fall and think about why it fell, not to worry about if Marissa would live.

Diane and Kurt are woken up by sirens and loud noises. The cops arrive and are shocked to find professionally dressed white people in a basement cell. They let Diane and Kurt out with compassion, but scream, “don’t you fucking move” to the people on the floor.

“It’s okay, they didn’t do anything,” Diane says. This is, as I theorized earlier, probably why Diane just sits there until her punishment blows over instead of escalating things.

If the cops weren’t there to free Diane, why were they there? Why, because they like David Cord and David Cord has gotten Chicago PD officers to protect Wackner’s IP.

If I had to say one thing in favor of Vinetta being the originator of the community court idea, it would be that it’s SUCH a gut punch to watch Diane and Kurt walk away from their bizarre little adventure as Vinetta gets arrested in the background, and it hits ten times as hard if Vinetta’s only being charged because some white guy is claiming IP that’s actually hers.

(I think Vinetta is probably, at this point, actually being arrested for imprisoning people illegally, but, still.)

“Pfft. Some judge,” one of the cops who adores Wackner says of Vinetta. Racist much?

Marissa and Wackner emerge from the backroom. “I think I better get back to work,” she says, meaning her RL job. "Me too,” Wackner says, grabbing a Copy Coop apron. He’s an employee of ten years.

I don’t think this lands as well as it’s meant to. I think the point is supposed to be that Wackner’s just some guy—not a billionaire, not an academic, not a judge, not a lawyer—with an idea. But it’s a little too neat. And it doesn’t explain how Wackner financed his court initially, nor does it explain why he has basically unlimited access to Copy Coop space and resources. I’d buy it if he were the OWNER of Copy Coop, but I have so many questions about him being an employee.

Diane tells Liz she’s actually going on vacation this time, and they laugh about how Kurt bonded with STRL.

“I want you and Allegra to be name partners. I’ll be an equity partner,” Diane says. “Why?” Liz asks. “Five years ago, when I hit rock bottom, this firm took me in. So I don’t like the idea of splitting this firm in two. And I can’t lead if no one will follow.” “And your clients?” “We’ll manage them together.” YES! I love this. I don’t love it because I necessarily think it had to go this way, but because it’s so refreshing to see Diane say that she actually is willing to take a step back because she cares about the firm and the people there more than she cares about being a name partner. This isn’t something we usually see. When we hear “this firm took x in” it’s usually being said incredulously against someone who’s decided to leave and steal clients (cough, Hitting the Fan, cough).

It’s been pretty clear for most of this arc that Diane and Liz like working together and they like their firm, but that no one (other than Diane, I guess) is willing to let RL lose its status as a black firm, and that the employees and equity partners weren’t going to be satisfied until Diane stepped down. Diane really had three options: Stay and piss everyone off and claim the whole firm for herself, quit and go somewhere else and totally abandon the good working dynamic she had, or step down and put her money where her mouth is.

Also yeah the clients were never actually going to be an issue! They were only an issue because Diane intentionally went about informing them she was stepping down in a way she knew would make them worry!

“I think I need to prove myself,” Diane says. I’m not sure that’s the key issue or that she can ever prove herself fully, but we’ll worry about that next year.

“I missed you,” Liz says. “I’m here,” Diane replies. “I know. Thank you,” Liz says.

Diane decides she’s going to move downstairs so Allegra can have her office. I think there’s another office on this floor, since she, Adrian and Liz all had offices. This feels a little bit like Diane’s in love with the idea of making things difficult for herself and maybe hasn’t fully grasped the point, but, you know, I’ll take it.

Diane tells Kurt her decision and he asks if it was the right thing to do. She says she doesn’t know—but she says it with a smile. Kurt notes he’s going hunting next month with the STRL folks and will put in a good word for her. Ah, yes, because STRL still controls all of this and all of this is moot! Thanks for the reminder Kurt! Diane says she wants in on the hunting trip. Of course.

And the elevator doors close. Remember how closing elevator doors was a motif earlier this season??? It’s back!

Then we get a little coda with Wackner Rules airing a new episode that’s just violence and destruction. This sequence seems to straddle the line between being there for thematic reasons for the viewers and there to show what happened in the show’s universe, but I think it’s main purpose is theme, so I will not go on a full rant questioning why Del would want to air this.

A white blonde lady in an apron watches the destruction of Wackner Rules. She looks concerned. “That was violet,” she says with dismay. And then we see she’s holding a guy in a jail cell in her kitchen.

And then we see other courts, as America the Beautiful plays. One’s in a garage debating kicking someone out of the neighborhood; another is across the street about the same case. There’s one in Oregon about secession. There’s one among Tiki Torch Nazis deciding only white people can own property. There’s (inexplicably) one about pronouns. There’s one with arm wrestling, one that happens while sky diving, and a bunch of others. It’s pretty ridiculous, and not necessarily in a good way. It feels at once like the natural extension of the Wackner Rules show and like an over the top parody you’d see on another show. Tiki Torch Nazis screaming “only white people can own property!” is the opposite of subtle writing. Tonally, this sequence feels more like the zany humor of Desperate Housewives or the insanity of BrainDead than anything TGF has done before (and TGF’s been plenty surreal), and it doesn’t quite work for me. It feels like it is trying to prove a point in the corniest, most on the nose way possible. It almost feels like it’s parodying its own plotlines.

On my first watch, this ending for Wackner left me stumped. I knew the writers were making an argument against individualism (Wackner’s speech + the repeated references to The Apprentice) and cults of personality. But I couldn’t figure out a real life analogue to Wackner’s court, and since this ending was so obviously trying to be About Something, that bugged me. Sure, that last sequence could be an argument against people making community courts, but WERE people making community courts? I didn’t see the urgency.

And then I talked to @mimeparadox. And as soon as he said that it was about factions and people playing by their own sets of rules beyond the justice system, it clicked. I’d been looking for Wackner’s plot to be a commentary on the legal system. It is much broader than that. It’s a commentary on the weakening of democratic systems (the Big Lie, etc.), more broadly, and Wackner and his common-sense approach are just a way to get liberal viewers to go along for the ride.

Now that I understand the point, or what I think is the point, I like this conclusion. Circumventing the system leads to chaos; that’s why we have institutions and bureaucracy, and I think the show is arguing that these institutions should still be respected despite their flaws. The many theses of this episode all come together to make this point (though the reality TV stuff is a little more tenuous and I'm a little shocked we got through all of this without any commentary on social media?): If we stop having a shared belief in institutions and instead follow individual leaders (whom we may learn about through reality TV), the rules will stop mattering and we’ll end up with a fractured country and widespread violence.

But, and maybe this is just about me being upset I missed both the obvious 1/6 parallels AND the point of the arc the first time through this episode (my defensive side feels the need to also note I first watched this episode at like 5 am when I was barely awake), I don’t know that I actually think this episode does a great job of driving its point home. There are SO many moving pieces to the Wackner plot and SO many references. There are so many threads we never return to from earlier in the season, and there’s so much that strains credulity (like Wackner taking Dr. Goat seriously for more than a split second). It’s pretty clear what the themes are—even though I’m saying I missed the point my first time through, I've hit on all these themes separately in past recaps and posts—but, I dunno, something about this episode just feels scattered. Maybe it’s all the moving pieces, maybe it’s all the moments where it sounds like the characters are voicing related ideas that don’t quite snap together to form one coherent picture, or maybe it’s that Wackner’s plot gets two endings (the actual ending + the coda) and it’s up to the viewer to put together how they relate.

I really don’t know. At the end of the day, I think there was a little too much going on with Wackner and that the writers needed to use the episodes between the private prison reveal and the finale to narrow—not broaden—the scope of what they were trying to do with Wackner. But I also think that what they were doing with Wackner was really, really smart and original. I don’t think I can overstate how impressed I am that the writers took an idea that sounded, frankly, awful when I first heard about it and turned it into something captivating and insightful that I was happy to spend nine weeks watching.

Overall, a few bad episodes aside, I thought season five was the strongest season of TGF yet. I haven’t seen this show be so focused in... well, maybe ever. Having two overarching plots that received consistent development and felt like they were happening in the same universe at the same time REALLY helps make season five feel like a coherent whole, and I can’t wait to rewatch it.

#tgf thoughts #the good fight

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crumbledmarctw · 3 years

Text

English for Academic and Professional Purposes Reading Record

Unit 1 : Nature of Academic Texts

- I learnt what this lesson is about and took the time to completely comprehend it. Academic texts are, on the whole, impersonal. This indicates that the focus should be on evidence and arguments rather than personal feelings and opinions. Some are intriguing, especially the part where you learn about non-academic texts and academic texts. There are many different types of texts, especially those that are deemed non-academic texts, such as magazines, which you can read online or in print, and other different types. Academic texts are a different story because they are created by professionals and have an academic goal such as research. Oh, and I've learned about all of the different types and branches of academic disciplines including Business, Humanities, Natural and Applied Sciences, and Social Sciences.

Unit 2 : Thesis Statement and Outlining

- In this unit, I learned how to organize my studies and essays by outlining and simplifying my research. The thesis statement is a one or two-sentence summary of your paper's main point, main idea, or main message; one of its functions is to answer questions; it can be found in the last paragraph of the essay or in the context introduction; there are also many different types of outlining, such as Topic and Sentence Outlining.

Unit 3 : Summarizing

- Summarizing is one of the most crucial abilities and techniques to master, especially since I will be performing thorough research and this is not my preferred subject. I can solve my issue on this topic if I just read it and use my vocabulary while concentrating on the major point of the subject I'm reading. This has been really helpful to me in the past, and as a result, I was able to quickly come up with a way to reduce it to its essential necessities.

Unit 4 : Paraphrasing

- I'm both stressed and relieved that I've been able to learn this subject's topic, that I'll be capable of grasping and use my words, and that I'll be able to explore some of the unusual ones I've accumulated. This lesson involves rephrasing the text or work and expressing the content in a new way. I suppose they are basically the same when it comes to summarizing, but there is a significant difference.

Unit 5 : Citing Source of Information

- In this lesson, I was able to learn about a variety of citation styles and how to identify between plagiarism as well as other issues. I've also been learning about the two main methods for citing authors and other sources, which are text citation and parenthetical citation. Text citation relates to the author's name, whereas parenthetical citation is used to immediately highlight the idea. In this topic, I've also learned about the APA and MLA. The APA refers for American Psychological Association, and it uses the authors year of publication approach, whereas the MLA stands for Modern Language Association, and it uses the authors page number.

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enter-remiges · 3 years

Note

are there any headcanons that you have about what other players would be part of the foretelling religion? or worldbuilding that you didn't get to include that you would want to talk about? or follow-up fics to that one? I fell in love with your take on the Soulmark AU!!!!

Ahhhh, I'm so glad you enjoyed In Hours Uncounted! It has some of my favorite worldbuilding, with the different section excerpts. I'd tentatively thought about writing a sequel from Sid's point of view at the time, but it was quite ephemeral. (The series would have ended up being called "Other Losses, Other Lives," from the same poem as the title.) If I'm remembering correctly, it was going to give us more insight as to how other people viewed individuals with names on their skin, and Sid was going to touch Claude's names (with Claude's approval and slight discomfort/bemusement).

Upon searching my docs, it appears I wrote exactly five (5) sentences of the nameless sequel! These include the Pens being out in a bar somewhere and a player seeing a woman with names (though not as many as Claude's) and assuming that meant she'd slept with a lot of people. The idea of names being romantic, and romantic implying promiscuity, is pretty widely held.

"You'll have to double bag it," NAME calls. Then, "Ow, man, what the fuck?"

I couldn't think of any other hockey players who used foretellers, but apparently Flower is one of them. He has a single mark, and the press gobbles it up.

But Flower's got a fairytale of a mark: Veronique's mark.

I don't think a lot of people in the league use foretellers, but there's a dedicated group chat where they swap the names of who they use when people get traded, etc. I wanted to add an excerpt about fraudulent foretellers, but obviously there's no way to tell if someone is Legit or not. Most people find their foretellers through word of mouth, and that's also why Claude's foretellers work other jobs instead of being in business full-time. It's not exactly a lucrative trade, more of a calling? And rich foretellers are generally in the same boat (ha!) as televangelists with gold-plated yachts. Madame Maxine is legit, though! Claude's just biased against her whole beads and incense thing.

There are also some regular tattoo artists who specialize in covering over names, if you find out your have the name of the man who killed your sister, etc. They turn them into other things, but there are also people who elect to have a black box tattooed over the name instead. Hmmm, thinking about it now, I bet there's a famous performance artist who does an exhibit where she has paint and markers and charcoal for people to write their own names on her skin, and then she rolls around on canvas so it smears. She doesn't believe in foretelling, but in the Spectacle of Connection (also the exhibit's name).

Aaaand, the final sentences belong to Sid! I think he was going to be talking to Claude, after Claude started feeling weird about the deliberate name-touching during sex that they try in the future. Also: the basic thesis statement for all of my soulmate-adjacent fics.

"We're a choice. We aren't destined."

Thanks for the ask! \0/

#replies

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rocksandrobots · 4 years

Text

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 6 - The Beach

Saturday had come and Varian and the rest of his new friends were all crowded in Wasabi's car. Wasabi had precisely enough room to fit six people, though perhaps a bit uncomfortably. He and Varian rode in the front seat, with Varian carrying Ruddiger in his carrying cage, while Hiro, Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Fred were squished together in the back seat. The robot, Baymax, was folded up inside his battery pack and tucked away in the trunk to make room.

Apparently today was a holiday and they were all heading to the beach. Well in truth the actual holiday was on Monday, but Americans spent the whole weekend in celebration. Said holiday was Memorial Day and was meant to honor warriors who fell in battle. However, despite this somber origin, most considered the weekend to be the official start of summer and would mark the occasion with picnics, parties, and public swimming.

For Varian and his friends though, this was the end of spring break. Starting on Tuesday, the university they now all attended would open back up and the summer semester would begin. The thought of which sent Varian's stomach churning with butterflies. He'd never been to school before and didn't know what to expect. He was filled with anxious excitement and to calm his nerves he looked out the car window to admire the scenery.

He'd been in this strange new world for a week now but he'd had little chance to admire it. For the past five days he'd been busy studying for his entrance exams for college. Passing the 'graduation' test in particular was important for gaining admittance into the school and Varian had to do some serious cramming to prepare for it. Squeezing twelve years worth of educational knowledge into his brain in less than a week.

Fortunately Varian was very good at memorizing facts and all his new friends were on hand to help him. On Monday, Hiro had helped him gather up the study materials he'd needed and told him what to expect. Wasabi gave him practice tests throughout the week and helped him pinpoint the areas he was weakest in. He was pretty good with math and grasped most of the science quickly, with Wasabi being on hand to fill in the gaps, but he needed help in other less familiar subjects.

Gogo had swung by on Tuesday and spent the whole day giving Varian a crash course in Social Studies, which was a combination of history, geography, and civics.

Varian took a special interest in America's founding and it's chosen form of government, which was unlike anything he had heard of before. They had no king nor royalty of any kind. In fact the country was founded by people who committed treason and fought a war to overthrow their ruler, and who then put into place a democracy made up of elected representatives instead. It most closely resembled the government of ancient Rome, before Julius Caesar had taken over, but was expanded upon to encompass a vast kingdom, larger than even most empires.

Varian had already thought San Fansokyo was an impressively large city, but was completely flabbergasted to know that not only was it not the largest city in the country, it wasn't even the biggest within its own providence; and there were fifty of these states that stretched across the continent from coast to coast with similarly massive metropolises in each.

It was mind boggling and it took him sometime to wrap his brain around the concept. And that was just the tip of the iceberg, he also had to catch up with some four hundred odd years worth of world events on top of that. But Gogo was a patient teacher and she carefully broke down everything into manageable chunks, giving him timelines, charts, and maps for him to refer back to. By the end of the day he had perhaps learned more in those eight hours spent with her than he had in his whole sixteen years.

On Wednesday, Fred had showed up to help Varian practice for the writing portion of the tests. He would have to complete two essays on any given subject for each of the two exams. Fred himself had actually completed one of the same tests, the S.A.T, just a few months ago and knew what the graders were looking for when it came to such essays.

Mainly, they just wanted to know if Varian could follow the basic guidelines of writing; paragraphs and sentence structure, grammar, spelling, and his overall ability to form an argument on paper. All things Varian felt pretty comfortable with, but it was nevertheless a good refresher of those basics. Essay writing and thesis statements were apparently expected of any student attending higher education and he would have to write many during the course of his studies.

Thursday, Honey Lemon stopped by to help Varian with Language Arts. Both tests would cover reading comprehension and even more grammar. Once again Varian was pretty comfortable with those two subjects, especially given the writing practice from the day before, and so they finished pretty quickly. Even with Honey Lemon adding in extra information about various important books and plays that had been written in the past four centuries, just in case any of them made it into the reading part of the exam. Though Shakespeare was still deemed the most influential even in this modern age. A fact which disappointed Varian; he personally thought Marlowe to be superior to the bard.

"You don't even like Romeo and Juliet?" Honey Lemon asked aghast, "But it's sooo romantic."

"But it's sooo stupid," Varian mockingly admonished with a laugh. Which in turn made Honey Lemon give him a not-so-serious pout.

"Look, what was stopping them from just leaving together in the first place?" Varian explained his point.

Honey Lemon opened her mouth to retort back but just as soon closed it again; she had never considered that question before. She screwed up her mouth in thought as she searched for a better answer.

"Weeelll, sometimes it's hard to leave the only home you've ever known. Isn't that why you want to get back to your world?" She asked him.

Varian just stared at her for a moment, thinking of an answer to give that didn't allow him to explain his past in detail. Finally he said, "I wanna get back because my dad is there. I couldn’t care less about Corona itself."

"You don't care at all?"

"It's just a bunch of buildings." He mumbled with a shrug, then he added, more assuredly, "What matters is the people in your life."

"I guess," She replied, "all I know is that I had a hard enough time just leaving Sacramento. Even though it's only an hour and a half away and I can still see my family whenever. I can't imagine what it's like to be lost in a whole other world."

Varian ignored her attempts to sympathize, not because he didn't appreciate the effort, but because he was ready to move on from the conversation. Instead he shut his eyes tightly and tilted his head back, trying to recall some of the new information he had recently learned. "Sacramento; that's the capital of California, right?"

"Yeah. But don't worry, no one actually memorizes all fifty states and their capitals. I only know like twenty or so." She admitted.

"Oh, good." Varian breathed in relief. Soon both he and Honey Lemon were just giggling, happy to relieve the tension in the room.

"Oooh, you know what? I brought my make-up bag with me!" Honey Lemon suddenly exclaimed, and just like that all previous talk about literature and writing gave away to other subjects, mostly chemistry.

Honey Lemon made her own cosmetics. It was a passion of hers to find new, safe, and 'biodegradable' chemical compounds to replace some of the more toxic stuff on the market.

"And absolutely no animal testing." She added in all seriousness.

She even sold her wares over the internet, shipping them to customers as they ordered them, as a means of making money on the side.

She poured out the contents of a rather large tote bag onto the floor and walked Varian through each item, what it was for, and how she had made it. Varian listened intently and even tried some of the stuff himself.

He found he didn’t care much for lipstick nor cakey foundation, the texture was off putting to him. He also didn’t like anything with a heavy perfume. However, he did like the eyeliner and the black fingernail polish he had previously bought. He was still fascinated by the concept of synthesized polymers.

They were both sitting on the floor, makeup strewn everywhere, laughing over nothing in particular, when Wasabi came home from his part-time job. Honey Lemon was in the middle of applying mascara to Varian’s eyes and he was trying his best not to blink but failing at it, which only sent both of them into more fits of giggles. Meanwhile, unnoticed by them both, Ruddgier had gotten into the powered blush and was making a mess in another corner of the room.

“I thought you two were studying.” Wasabi said with a hint of annoyance to his voice. He was tired from work and none too happy to find makeup scattered about his dorm room.

“Sorry,” Honey Lemon tried to say through her laughter, “but we finished early and I’d promise to teach Varian how to paint his nails.” Varian held up his hand to show Wasabi his newly painted nails as a way of response.

“That’s nice.” Wasabi replied back in a sarcastic tone. “Did you also teach the raccoon how to put on foundation?”

That’s when they both finally noticed Ruddiger. Varian got onto his pet and went to clean up the mess, effectively ending the study/make-up session.

The next day, Wasabi gave him two final practice tests and then it was time for him to take the real thing. He met Professor Granville at the school and, alongside a few other hopeful students, took the two tests.

The first test, the S.A.T., went smoothly, but he wouldn’t know his actual scores until his answer sheet and essay were sent off to be graded. The graduation test however was taken over the computer and it took several hours to complete with a few breaks between parts. He felt he could have finished sooner had he had the chance to take the test using a pencil and paper instead, as he found the mouse and keyboard awkward. But the positive thing about using the new technology was that he got his scores back sooner. He managed to pass all the parts, even with him just barely scraping by on the Social Studies section. His official certification would come in the mail, the professor told him, but for all intents and purposes he now had a high school diploma.

Which was apparently a big deal in this world. Earning a diploma was considered to be something of a rite of passage. Obtaining one meant you were ready to start entering the adult world and with it you could gain full time employment or seek higher education, like college. According to his friends, he should’ve been extra proud of this accomplishment since gaining a high school diploma at his age, while not unheard of, was unusual, and he had done it in less than a week when most took years to achieve it.

To signify just how important this was, all his new friends threw him a party at the Lucky Cat. Even Aunt Cass had pitched in and made him a special dinner. It was something called ‘sushi’ and she typically prepared it for celebrations like this one; having cooked similar dinners for both Tadashi and Hiro when they had graduated high school as well.

Varian was appreciative of her efforts, though he didn’t quite know what to make of the food itself. The ‘sushi’ consisted mostly of rice topped with raw fish wrapped in seaweed. The taste wasn’t bad but the texture of the uncooked seafood was weird to Varian. Fortunately, not everything was raw. There were different kinds to be had and Varian was able to pick out some that he did enjoy; ones stuffed with crab, egg, or just veggies. He especially liked the ‘dessert sushi’ made with tropical fruit.

He’d just finished recalling last night, when Wasabi loudly proclaimed, “We're here!”

There were whoops and joyous yells in response from the various passengers and Varian looked out the front windshield to see the familiar blue streak that was the ocean just up ahead. Wasabi parked the car in the designated parking lot and then they all piled out of said vehicle and made their way down to the beachfront.

The sandy beach was tucked in between two rocky cliffs and you had to walk down a wooden stairway to get to it. As he made his way down the stairwell, Varian could look out and see the expanse of dark blue ocean and lighter blue sky go on forever. It didn't look much different from Corona's coast. What did look different were the inhabitants. Corona's coastline was usually deserted save for the ports and the occasional fishing boat off in the distance, but here the beach was a mass of half naked bodies and swarms of vacationers enjoying the summer sun. Spread out along the sandy tolls were towels, blankets, folding chairs, and umbrellas of all sizes with scantily clad people lounging upon or underneath.

Varian tried to remember Gogo's words from a week ago, about how this was deemed normal and not to bring himself to attention by starring. But everywhere Varian looked he was met with the sight of a lovely lady's long legs or a handsome lad's toned chest. Not looking was very much like asking a small child in a pastry shop to hold their nose and ignore the sweet smells of pies and cakes surrounding them. Fortunately, he was able to keep his composure long enough for them to reach the shore and find a spot to set up camp for the day; managing not to hold his gaze for too long on any one person or thing.

They had brought a variety of towels and folding chairs of their own, along with a large parasol and ice chest full of food and drink for the day. Varian and Wasabi had spent that morning making sandwiches for everyone; tuna fish salad, sliced cucumbers with butter, jam mixed with a spread made from ground nuts, and some sort of mystery meat called 'baloney' paired with cheese. Varian couldn't figure out if said baloney was made from ham or chicken, as it didn't really taste like either, though it also didn't taste bad per-say. They also stored small bags of crispy fried potatoes, individually wrapped miniature cakes, and bottles of some sort of fizzy drink called 'soda' in the chest as well. Varian found the carbonated sugary drink to be odd but surprisingly tasty.

While everyone was setting up Hiro unpacked Baymax from his portable charger, the robot inflated to full size again before stepping out, and Varian released Ruddiger from his carrier. The raccoon was grateful to be let out of the small cage at last and promptly snuggled up on one of the folding chairs under the sun to catnap. Varian didn't think the leash necessary as there really wasn't any place for his pet to run off to.

Once done with setting up, the gang then proceeded to unpack the various toys and games they had brought along as well. There was a game you played with a net, like tennis, only you used your hands to pass a 'volleyball' over said net instead of a racket and you didn't want the larger ball to touch the ground at any point. They also brought a flat discus called a 'frisbee' which you threw from person to person. Gogo had with her a flat wooden board used to ride the waves that broke along the shore. Which she let Varian and her other friends try out for themselves.

Varian however was not very good at any of these new sports. While he was fairly athletic, capable of running, climbing, and whatnot, he had never been the best at coordination. More often than not he'd simply trip and fall in his efforts to keep up with the ball or maintain his balance on the surfboard.

Instead Varian found himself wandering off occasionally to try and strike up conversations with new people. He'd hadn't had a lot of social interaction while growing up, especially with others his age, and he wanted some practice before he started school in a few days. Hopefully to ease the awkwardness of being dumped in a world that he knew next to nothing about.

However every time he'd smile at a pretty girl or make eye contact with a cute boy his age, his efforts to make small talk were sabotaged by some mishap or other. Either his own clumsiness would get in the way or he'd put his foot in mouth, as the saying goes. One particularly unfortunate incident involved him getting beaned in the back of the head from a misthrown volleyball while trying to chat up a couple of vacationing teens. Fortunately, his embarrassing failures at flirting would be followed by one of his new friends trying to engage him with some other activity so he was never left alone with his awkwardness for long.

Swimming, sand castle building, more games; like 'chicken', where you tried to push one person off another person's shoulders into the water, or 'Marco Polo' where one person had to find the others with their eyes closed, using the ancient explorer's name as a call and response, digging for seashells, and other similar actives were to be had to pass the time away.

Finally, the sun started to hang low in the sky and they all headed back to the car. They were wet, tired and covered in sand. They tried to knock the irritating substance off their shoes and things before all squeezing back into the ill fitting vehicle in order to head back home. They all sat on towels so as not to get the seats wet and their bathing suits and cover up clothes all clung to them dripping with sea water.

Varian sat again in the front seat, only this time Honey Lemon had asked to hold Ruddiger on the ride back. She, Gogo, Fred, and Hiro were all fast asleep in the backseat with Baymax once again tucked away in his battery case. Wasabi had the radio on in order to keep himself awake as he drove (and to drown out Honey Lemon's snoring if he was being honest). The music that filtered out of the speakers was called 'classical' music, which just meant it was mostly orchestral music from ages past. To Varian it sounded very modern and sophisticated to his ears, like chamber music played for royal courts, not the more rustic folk music he grew up on.

Right now a gentle suite with piano and strings was playing and it along with the steady motion of the car moving was beginning to lull Varian to sleep as well. He looked out again at the houses and scenery that passed by and thought of the day's events and the fun he had had as his eyes grew heavy. This world was so much more inviting and nicer than his own, it was a shame he'd have to leave it soon, but his Dad needed him and that was that. And with that final resolve Varian drifted off to dreamland.

youtube

#varian #tangled the series #BH6 the series #Hiro Hamada #Honey lemon #ruddiger #Wasabi #GoGo #Fred Frederickson IV #rapunzel's tangled adventure

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its-always-the-witching-hour · 4 years

Text

Chapter 4 of Apocalyptic AU - Sanders Sides

Word count - 919 (Short, I know)

Pairings - None mentioned

Warnings - (spoilers) zombies, small panic attacks

Characters - Virgil Tempest, Roman Regalis, Logan Thesis, Patton Chastity

Previous chapter - Next chapter

-----

Looking up through eyes brimming with tears, Virgil saw three figures standing over him. The one closest to him was holding out a hand. Cautiously, Virgil took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. The one who helped him up was wearing a grey cardigan tied around his shoulders and had a cheerful and friendly look to him, despite the fact they were in the literal apocalypse. To his right was a serious looking person, with dark, straight hair and was, for reasons Virgil will never know, wearing a button-up shirt with a tie. Then Virgil looked at the person to the left. They had a strangely shaped shirt that looked like if a collared shirt decided that it wanted to have coat tails. They also had ridiculously long boots with heels at least a quarter inch high. The serious looking one stepped out in front of the friendly one, looking Virgil up and down.

“My name is Logan Thesis. This is Roman Regalis,” he gestured to the boy on his left, who huffed and looked away, “and this is Patton Chastity,” the kind looking one waved, “who are you and what brings you here? Apart from zombies of, course.”

“Y-you can call me Anxiety,” Virgil wasn’t sure why he didn’t tell them his name, but it felt like the right thing to say. He wasn’t sure if he could trust them yet.

“That’s not a name-” ‘Roman’ started, but was cut off quickly as Patton jumped in.

“But we will still call you that anyway, because we want to make you feel comfortable, right Roman?”

“Fine.”

“What are you doing here, Anxiety? Not to sound rude, but we didn’t think that anyone else survived.”

Roman looked down at the floor with that statement, as though he wanted to say something but was afraid he would be told off for it.

“I came from the,” Virgil quickly looked back the way he came, “east side of the city?”

“You don’t sound or look very certain,” Logan observed.

“Probably because I was too busy running for my life instead of checking where I was going,” Virgil snapped back, too tired to be polite anymore.

“Try and dial back the sarcasm a bit there, emo nightmare. We only want to help you,” Roman gestured grandly with his hands, “after all, a prince has to help anyone in need. Now, were you traveling with anyone, or have you been surviving by yourself?”

“I was with two other people, but I… don’t know what happened to them after we were attacked. I left them behind!” Virgil’s voice rose to a wail as he sank down against the wall again, sobbing. To his muted surprise, Roman came and sat next to him.

“Hey, it’s okay. I know what it feels like to run away from someone you care for when they are in danger. I wish that I could just see my brother again to tell him I’m sorry.”

“Your brother?”

Roman sighed, looking down at the ground again, “my twin brother. I have no idea if he got away, but he was in a safe place, so I just have to hope.”

Virgil suddenly looked up at Roman, his own worries momentarily forgotten. The face, his name, the fact that he has a twin, the way he kept looking away from the others, as though he was trying to find someone…

“That’s it!” Virgil stood up excitedly, startling Roman into nearly falling over and causing Patton to jump.

“What’s it, kiddo?” Patton readjusted his glasses with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“I know who you remind me of!” Virgil pointed at the extremely confused Roman, “you have a younger twin brother, right?”

“Yes, how did you -”

“And your name, and the fact you both look basically the same, why didn’t I realize this sooner!”

“What do you mean?”

“Roman, I know your younger brother, Remus! He’s alive,” I think, “and with my other friend Devan!”

“Wait, really! Are you serious?! You’re telling me that my brother is alive!” Roman nearly tackled him to the ground with a hug.

“Roman, this is fantastic news! Unless Anxiety is lying, of course,” Patton regarded Virgil with slight suspicion.

“Trust me Patton, I don’t lie about these things. Besides, Remus had basically the same reaction when I said that it was possible that you survived.”

“He was worried about me!” Roman squeezed Virgil tighter, cutting off his air supply.

“Can’t – breathe,” Virgil croaked. Roman let him go with an embarrassed but happy smile, and helped him up.

“I can now see another similarity to your twin,” Virgil stated dryly, “you both have no idea of what personal space is.”

“Sorry,” Roman rubbed the back of his head, still grinning like a maniac, “are you sure you don’t remember the way back? Because if you do we can leave now to go find him and maybe even get some food on the way!”

“Roman, remember that Anxiety said he thinks he is from the east side of the city. It would take us a whole day to travel there, so it would be better if we camped out here for the night, and left in the morning. It is dangerous to travel during the night, as zombies have better night vision then us.”

Roman sighed and sat down again, “Okay Logan. But first thing tomorrow, right?”

“We’ll leave as soon as possible, kiddo.”

“Good. Oh, and Anxiety?” Virgil turned to him, slightly confused.

“Thank you.”

---

I added last names! Regalis is Latin (I think) for Royalty, Thesis is another word for Logic, and Chastity is another word for Morality

Taglist

@pastelbootybomb @firey-alex @phoenixdoesstuff @aimasup @yesicanbelieveitsnotbutter @dierotenixe @astraheart04 @lovelilijazunde @feralratt @elementalshadowwitch @sanderssidesocfanstuff @oofmood @holliberries @authorized-trash @decentsanders @cass-withsass @amintyworld @sanderssidesweirdo @its-logan-appreciation-day @contemplativespectrum @cattail-breeze @notkolaidoscop @blackrosesintheair

#sandersides #virgil sanders #zombie warning #zombie apocalypse au #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

A New Formula

Summary: Changkyun’s word finds were always easy to crack once you figured out the formula. But this one was different.

Pairing: Im Changkyun x reader

Genre: university au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: this is something I whipped up just now for my lovely Jo @mxdreams. Happy birthday my love! I was planning on something short and sweet, but this idea just came out of nowhere and I’m really glad it did! I hope you’ve had a wonderful day Xxx

Word count: 1160

You glanced at the student who sat down next to you, rolling your eyes before turning your head back to the textbook in front of you. Changkyun nudged you a moment later, unsatisfied with your lack of interest with his arrival.

“What?”

“I need you to look at something.”

“Busy.”

He sighed heavily and you glanced back at him. Normally you could tell when Im Changkyun was here to bother you or actually needed your assistance for something. You had known him long enough from being bio-chem partners in high school and you usually paired up together in lab now as university students. His mannerisms were easy to read and so that sigh meant he really was here for a reason. You noticed his eyes weren’t looking at you directly, his focus darting around the study area, staring at everything apart from you.

This was serious then. Swivelling in your chair, you held out your hand. “Alright, what is it?”

“I need you to figure this out,” he mentioned, pulling out a book from his bag and opening to the page. You glanced down at the word find and then back up at him. Changkyun was still avoiding your gaze and his cheeks flushed with colour. “Come on Y/N, it’s important to me.”

“You interrupted my study session for another one of your word plays? Changkyun, I’ve been up all night working on this thesis, surely you can ask someone else to play your little games. I hear Jooheon has finished with his exam prep, why not bother him?”

He shook his head, adamant. Finally, his eyes found yours, pleading with you silently. You groaned, picking up your pencil and turning to the equation in front of you. Being a science student, you found the structure of such trivial processes easy to decipher. Changkyun always tried to make these harder than the last, but there hadn’t been a single word find you hadn’t cracked yet. You worked on the piece quietly, the fidgeting of your partner distracting you from finding the formula instantly. You shot him a disgruntled look and Changkyun smiled sheepishly, pointing to a row of library books before disappearing from your side. With him now gone, you were able to focus on the task at hand.

You found simple and easy words, but that wasn’t what Changkyun ever intended with these little games of his. He wanted you to search deeper and find a catalyst. Once you had one word, you’d easily figure out the theme for the puzzle and be able to solve it completely with little effort afterwards.

Admittedly, this one was taking you longer than usual. You inwardly told yourself it was due to sleep deprivation from studying for your finals and thesis. The longer it took to figure it out, the further annoyed you became. Did he make it so this riddle had no answer? No, you wouldn’t ever let him win over you like that. You dug deeper, searching for similarities, for clues to point you in the right direction.

Out of nowhere, you noticed your name was in there. How you hadn’t seen it until now you were unsure, but it intrigued you and you looked for related topics to your name, your breathing shortening when you started to pull the puzzle together.

You glanced towards the row of books Changkyun had disappeared down and stood up, walking down them to find him. He had moved from the row he had chosen previously but when you found him, he snapped the book he held in his hands shut, staring at you hesitantly.

“Did you figure it out?”

You nodded, approaching him until you stood with little room between you both. You angled your head up and chewed on your bottom lip silently.

Changkyun blinked a few times, clearing his throat awkwardly. “It uh, took you some time.”

“I wasn’t looking for myself in the pattern process. When I found it though, all the little fragments came together.” You smiled and stepped closer, Changkyun now unsure if he should move back or not. You giggled, he had gone to so much effort to write the word find, for you to discover his feelings for you, yet now that you had solved it, he seemed wary of what to expect next.

You decided you didn’t need him to have an answer since you had come to one yourself when you had found the sentence in the series of letters. Stretching up, you pressed your lips to his softly. Thankfully, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back and you relaxed. The last thing you wanted was for him to take back his clever little confession.

“It took me a month to come up with it.”

“A whole month? You could have just asked me out like a normal person would.”

“I’m not normal,” he surmised and then smiled. “Nor are you. Did you forget that today is your birthday, Y/N?”

You gasped, lifting your smartwatch to check the date. Darting your eyes back to his amused stare, you chewed your lip again to lessen the embarrassment. You had been preoccupied and celebrating another year on this Earth could wait until you were done with studying.

Well, kind of.

“Since you forgot, I decided to make sure I covered the basics. You’ve got an hour until dinner. We can either go like this and leave right after you finish studying, or you could go back to your dorm to change, it’s up to you. And then, I got tickets to that movie you wanted to see that recently came out. Did I cover it all?”

Changkyun was thinking over his plans when you reached to peck his lips again, surprising him. He blinked slowly and then groaned. “Will you keep doing that?”

“Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he admitted, though he leaned in to capture your lips this time instead. “Just let me do it before you take every opportunity away from me.”

You nodded in agreement. “Balance is key.”

“So is studying, right?” he asked, playing with the smile on his lips. You sighed and turned on your heel, heading back to your belongings. Changkyun fell into step at your side. “Really, Y/N, after all that, you’re going back to study?!”

You glanced at him, exasperated. “How could anyone continue to study after being confessed to and kissing in the library? I choose option two; I’m going to get ready for my birthday date.”

“Oh, good choice,” he breathed, helping you pack away your things. Handing him back the book that started all this, you pressed it to his chest, staring at him intently.

“We better end this night with ice-cream or I’m calling off my acceptance of your confession.”

Changkyun chuckled. “Y/N, if this night ends with only ice-cream, I’m going to be pretty disappointed.”

Despite widening your eyes at his statement, you couldn’t help but hope for the same outcome.

_________________

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mittensmorgul · 5 years

Text

The TNT loop got me good today. 7.21 is... a new level of angst now. I’ve been yelling my incoherent feelings at @wigglebox about this, and decided I just needed to make all the parallels. So I’m just gonna quote chunks of the transcript for 7.21 here, and then comment on it. Because it is A Lot™

(honestly y’all should be glad I’m not a gif maker because a) it probably would make this post lethal, and 2) the first casualty would’ve been me)

Okay, here we go. For reference, I’m just using the transcript here, and basically annotating it with thoughts from the POV of 15.03. Some of it will be directly quoted from this transcript at the superwiki if you’d like to follow along for maximum pain (or to fill in any blanks I’ve left in the rest of the episode), and some of it will just be direct commentary.

We begin with Cas awakening, bolting upright, from the catatonic state he’s been in since he’d healed Sam’s Hell Trauma. Remember, Cas took that wound into himself. Cas’s awakening wasn’t “natural.” It coincided with the awakening of the Prophet Kevin Tran, and Dean shattering the ancient rock concealing a long-buried “Word Of God.” I’d like to take a moment here to remind everyone why Sam had even suffered this trauma that Cas had to heal in the first place. Not only was “breaking Sam’s wall” one of the “terrible things” Cas had done in s6 in the name of trying to keep Dean from being conscripted back into service in the new Apocalypse Raphael was plotting, but it also led directly to The Worst Thing Cas Has Ever Done In The Name Of Doing The Right Thing Of His Own Free Will. Because ALL of this was couched in that language. In 6.20, in that final scene, this was the specific language that Cas used with Dean in his final attempt to earn Dean’s trust and support in his (soon to be) catastrophic plan. And Dean couldn’t give it to him. ALL of this is now currently wrapped up into the events of the first three episodes of s15. Free Will, the Word of God, a Cosmic Wound that has injured both Sam and Cas (and that Cas was unable to heal this time), Kevin Tran forced into service, A Plot to gather god-like power through the consumption of souls, a Rift into an afterlife for the purposes of releasing a terrible apocalypse on the world... heck... there’s probably more, but this will do nicely for a start, for the purposes of Painful, Awful Context.

FLASH TO TITLE CARD

(see what I mean? this is gonna be a long, bumpy ride... I should probably put this under a cut...)

The lightning flashes and odd weather effects from breaking open the tablet caused a worldwide disruption to the weather, to the point that a meteorologist on the radio said he wasn’t baffled by it, but offended.

So the Word of God being freed, from being given power by having been revealed, revealed something that went beyond confusion, and was just so wrong it actually made the guy ANGRY. Hmm. Kinda like Dean in early s15, yes? Dean’s our “offended weatherman.”

(I really miss the text separator line function. Thanks for taking that away from us, tungl. I guess I’ll have to insert something else between commentary... asterisks it is... I’ll keep it to three for a visual separation that hopefully won’t screw too badly with screen readers)

DEAN: So, what? We start the storm heard 'round the world? SAM: When we broke this thing [SAM touches the stone tablet] open last night, every maternity ward within a hundred-mile radius got slammed. Looks like any woman in the last month of her pregnancy went into labor.

WELL that’s definitely an interesting parallel... motherhood, giving birth. With the imagery of Rowena’s spell in 15.03 looking both like Mary and Jess in 1.01 as well as a weird sort of “reverse birth” of hundreds of souls.

***

Sam and Dean were planning to head West to Rufus’ cabin, until THIS, that had them heading in the exact opposite direction, because Cas:

SAM: What? [to DEAN] Cas is awake. DEAN: When? [SAM puts the phone on speaker and holds it out.] When? MEG: Last night about eight. DEAN: And you waited till now to call us? MEG: I've been busy with Cas. He's just a tad different than when he dozed off, 'kay? DEAN: What do you mean, different? MEG: Hey, Seacrest, guess what – not a nurse. Just playing one on TV. Want answers? Start driving.

Or, because Demon who teamed up with them specifically because they intended to use Cas for his specific power... Meg intended to earn Cas’s loyalty for her own security/protection/personal mission against Crowley, so she could swing him like a big hammer. In s15, Belphegor’s machinations were much the same, with his long-term plan to earn just enough of Cas’s trust to use him as the key to open the box holding Lilith’s Crook. By hook or by crook, right? Demons, man. I mean, I’ve mentioned the parallel to 8.17, and the crypt scene with the unlocking of this box in a different crypt for a different god-level power item (in 8.17 it was brainwashing and the angel tablet, and in 7.21 it’s denial and the leviathan tablet, but you can draw a big fat straight line through all of it). And this is just another go-around of all those same themes.

***

DEAN: We raced all the way here, and now I don't know. I can't say I'm fired up to see what's left of the guy. SAM: You think he remembers at all? DEAN: That, and I'm guessing whatever kind of hell baggage he lifted off of your plate. It's not gonna be pretty.

Oh remember this? Previously on Supernatural, this was owie, but now it’s been weaponized with new context from s15, with this endless cycle of guilt and blame laid on the table between Dean and Cas. He couldn’t look at Cas, was terrified to see what had become of Cas because of ALL of this. Because of everything that began in s6 and culminated with them finally cracking the Word of God. Or at least A word of god, since we know now that this wasn’t the only thing Chuck wrote, you know? And we’re still due to progress through Metatron’s hackneyed retelling, too. But even back then, Dean’s feelings of guilt, blame, and loss were all tangled up together regarding Cas, and infused with a confusing dollop of friendship, need, and (dare I suggest) love. Because the kind of stuff Dean (and Sam) have forgiven Cas for over the years? Even if it was only in knowing the underlying good intentions and wondering about all of Cas’s motivations, this isn’t the kind of thing you forgive someone for unless you truly care about them, deep down. The only ones who truly have the power to break you like this are the ones you love.

***

After Cas’s unsettling attempt at a “joke,” (pull my finger *lights explode* *disturbing chortling*), Dean needs information, and needs it from Cas.

DEAN: Okay, just hang on, Cas. Wait. Let us catch up to you for a second. SAM: So, you're saying you remember who you are, what you are. CASTIEL: Yes. Of course. Oh. Outside today, in the garden, I followed a honeybee. I saw the route of flowers. It's all right there, the whole plan. There's nothing to add. SAM: You might want to add a little Thorazine. MEG: Right? He's been like the naked guy at the rave ever since he woke up. Totally useless.

Let’s start at the end of this mess and work our way back to the start. Meg declares Cas “totally useless.” Because in his current state (I don’t fight, I watch the bees), he literally can’t be the weapon she hoped he’d be for her own personal needs. Like Belphegor in s15, it took some chipping away before Cas could even remotely be “useful” to him. Cas couldn’t even look at him, and he certainly would never agree to fight for him (the muscle).

Next let’s tackle Cas’s perception of creation, as told in metaphor between his observation on the micro-level scale of the “route of flowers,” which he directly compared to the macro-level scale of “the whole plan.” As if there was a “whole plan” to the universe. I could write a doctoral thesis on just this statement alone, of how Cas’s observation of the plan inherently altered it, how his presence in the garden as observer watching the bees do their thing, following them along their paths to the flowers irrevocably inserted him into the “whole plan,” and whether he or the bees realized it or not, those bees by necessity altered their paths to accommodate Cas’s presence in their daily routine. Did this make their lives easier? More difficult? Regardless, it had to affect their choices, which flowers to visit, which paths to fly, because Cas’s mere presence provided an obstacle to their routes. They couldn’t fly through him, you know? Left or right, over and around, He became something the “whole plan” needed to work around. And isn’t that what Chuck’s been doing since the start? And on an entirely different level, Chuck’s done it all with intent, because “the whole plan” had been his creation from the beginning.

And then, both first and last depending on your perspective, is Dean, asking Cas to stop just long enough for him to finally catch up. Asking Cas to wait. Because Dean feels like he’s the one who’s fallen behind.

Okay, everyone take five to have a good cry *passes out tissues*

***

CASTIEL: Will you look at her? My caretaker. All of that thorny pain. So beautiful. MEG: We've been over this. I don't like poetry. Put up or shut up.

Ah, Cas and “poetry.” He’s temporarily given up on seeking Free Will, temporarily abandoned the attempt to “teach poetry to fish,” as he’d said in 6.20. And Meg doesn’t like poetry either. She just wants Cas to suck it up and do what she needs him to-- be her personal hammer. She doesn’t care about him, but only what he can do for her. Put up or shut up.

***

CASTIEL: Oh. Of course. Now I understand. SAM: Understand what? CASTIEL: You were the ones. Well... I guess that makes sense. DEAN: What makes sense? CASTIEL: If someone was going to free the Word from the vault of the earth, it would end up being you two. Oh, I love you guys. CASTIEL pulls DEAN and SAM into a hug.

Of course The Winchesters would be the Disruptors™ to the natural order, right? Even though Sam and Dean had only stumbled across the word of God by accident, while trying to clean up the planet-wide epidemic of cosmic Goo left behind after Cas’s attempt to rewrite the story and play god. But still, of course it would be Sam and Dean, because it’s always Sam and Dean, right? I mean, Cas already hung a lampshade on “The Whole Plan” being right there for anyone to see, in everything from the path of the flowers right up to the unearthing of the Word.

Chalk another one up to the spiral narrative as everything.

***

Cas mutters something about cat penises, and females not being consulted on that terrible bit of creation. Chuck, man. Throwing barbed penises around with zero consideration for the ladies. Ow. But on to the bigger things:

DEAN: Cas, please, we're losing ground out there, okay? We need your help. Can you not see that? CASTIEL: This is the handwriting of Metatron. SAM: Metatron? You saying a Transformer wrote that? DEAN: No. That's Megatron. SAM: What? DEAN: The Transformer – it's Megatron. SAM: What? CASTIEL: Metatron. He's an angel. He's the scribe of God. He took down dictation when creation was being formed. SAM: And that's the Word of God? CASTIEL: One of them, yes.

They’ve been drowning in goo for months, and Cas coming back had represented a beacon of hope in the darkness. But the reality of the whole situation at hand wasn’t something Cas could deal with. He was so burdened with personal guilt that he chose to ignore the mess, reacting with anger (and by disappearing) with directly confronted with it. In s15, Dean... can’t just disappear, even though he’s the one drowning now.

A... Transformer. A misinterpreted word that changes the meaning, creating a baffling misunderstanding that requires a re-translation and correction before understanding can occur. That’s so meta I could cry. “I always get the words right.” Cas had no idea what “Megatron” or “Transformers” were, but saw that Sam and Dean were literally “speaking language he didn’t understand,” but that they’d come to a satisfactory conclusion that seemed irrelevant to their current conversation anyway, and just... continued on as if the disruption had never occurred. An entire loop of conversation just flew right over his head. He might not get words wrong, but sometimes he just doesn’t get them at all, you know? Nor does Dean always understand what the intent behind Cas’s words are. They need a translator. Or they need to stop speaking in references and metaphor, and speak clearly in unmistakable language. And all of this is wrapped up in the parallel to the indecipherable Word of God, which will require a unique translator to interpret.

Author to Scribe to Prophet, because the knowledge within is not meant for angels. It’s not even meant for humans. It’s just another randomly-scattered puzzle left by Chuck to be simultaneously helpful and dangerous. Choices and drama.

***

CASTIEL: Don't like conflict. CASTIEL disappears and the stone tablet drops to the floor, breaking into three pieces.

Aah, the conflict, that Meg attempts to blame on Dean, when she was the one who (I mean, understandably she was curious, but she’s still a demon that Dean still doesn’t trust, who once possessed Sam and tried to force Dean to kill him, so... she’s not actually their friend, she was “mutually assured destruction” in case things with Cas went sideways while Sam and Dean were running around trying to clean up the Leviathan mess...). Cas’s reaction to conflict back then had been to drop the Word like a hot potato, smashing it to pieces on the floor. Even when he isn’t trying, he’s tearing up pages and altering the shape of Chuck’s story. Bless him. But he’s still... actively avoiding doing anything, including acknowledging his own role in the events that have brought them to this point, and to everything Dean had been fighting almost on his own (Sam’s been “in the bell jar” most of s7 fighting the Hallucifers) and basically surviving with whiskey, denial, and pasting a fake smile on and pushing through trauma after trauma without Cas (or... pretty much anyone else in any measurably reliable way). But we all know this isn’t how DEAN reacts to trauma, right? He pushes people away, by manufacturing conflict when he runs out of organic conflict.

***

DEAN: All right, I'll go handle Cas. Sam, will you please pick up the Word of God?

Dean, delegating responsibilities. He’ll take the broken angel, and Sam will take the broken Word.

***

MEG: We both call, who do you think Cas will come to? I'm guessing me. You heard him – thorny beauty, blah, blah. I'm the saint who stayed with him. He owes me. His words. SAM: Yeah, what about what he owes us? MEG: Well, work on him a little. Maybe he'll start crushing on you, too, hot stuff. SAM: What are you gonna do with a broken angel? Don't be stupid. MEG: I'll take power where I can get it. I've got myself to look out for.

Unlike Belphegor, Meg never even attempted to disguise her motives. She wanted Cas for his power, broken or not. She’d find a way to manipulate him to defend her-- despite his insistence that he doesn’t fight. And it’s interesting it’s Sam who’s given the line “what about what he owes us?” While Dean’s discussion with Cas is far more personal.

***

DEAN: You realize you just broke God's Word? CASTIEL looks away and DEAN sits down at the table opposite him. DEAN: It's Sam's thing, isn't it? You taking on his, uh, cage-match scars. I'm guessing that's what broke your bank, right? CASTIEL: Well, it took... everything to get me here. DEAN: What are you talking about, man? CASTIEL: Dean, I know you want different answers. DEAN: No, I want you to button up your coat and help us take down Leviathans. Do you remember what you did? CASTIEL holds up the board game “Sorry!” He shakes it once and the board and pieces appear on the table, set up ready to play. CASTIEL sets the box aside. CASTIEL: Do you want to go first?

Dean’s still kind of in awe at the notion of directly defying God’s Word, and Cas just... doesn’t even seem bothered. Dean needs to find an explanation for Cas’s avoidance of the Urgent Matter at Hand. He blames it on what Cas suffered after taking on Sam’s Hell trauma, but Cas tries to tell him it’s so much more than that, that his entire experience since the moment he gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition had led to this moment. But that’s too much for Dean to even wrap his head around, and Cas is just... speaking in riddles anyway. So he presses on and demands a direct answer. Cas continues speaking in riddles.

And pushing for a more direct personal conversation, despite the chasm of misunderstandings separating them. For possibly the first time ever, it’s Cas speaking in metaphors and references that Dean does not understand. And it frustrates the hell out of him. He just wants to get some straight answers out of Cas before the world goes up in flames. Or drowns in dark waters.

He needs Cas to “button up his coat” and help save the world. Save it from the mess he technically made of it. But Cas won’t even engage with what Dean’s saying to him, like in s15 Dean doesn’t even engage with what Cas is saying to him (but Cas is also refusing to button up his coat and do what had to be done in s15, refusing to even look at Belphegor... despite actively assuming another equally important job... he wasn’t avoiding HELPING, just avoiding the specific task Dean had tried to give him... as the one of them most qualified to monitor a demon for ~demonic hinkiness~ or whatever. Sam and Dean would’ve just assumed they were dealing with Jack if Cas hadn’t been the one to tell them it was actually a demon, you know?

***

Meanwhile, back in Cas’s room, Kevin is knitting the Word of God back together, while being simultaneously baffled and terrified by everything that’s going on.

***

DEAN picks up a “Sorry!” card. CASTIEL: You know, we weren't sure at first which monkeys were gonna make it. No offense, but I [DEAN moves a marker on the board] was backing the Neanderthals because their poetry was... just amazing. It's in perfect tune [CASTIEL picks up a card] with the spheres. But in the end, it was you – the [CASTIEL moves a marker] homo sapiens sapiens. You guys ate the apple, invented pants. DEAN: Cas, where can we find this, uh, Metatron? Is he still alive? CASTIEL: I'm sorry. I – I think you have to go back to start. DEAN moves a marker. DEAN: This is important. CASTIEL motions for DEAN to pick up another card. DEAN does and moves another marker. DEAN: I think Metatron could stop a lot of bad. You understand that? CASTIEL picks up another card. CASTIEL: We live in a "sorry" universe. It's engineered to create conflict. I mean, why should I prosper from... your misfortune? [CASTIEL puts down a marker and moves DEAN’s marker back to the start.] But these are the rules. I didn't make them. DEAN: You made some of them. When you tried to become God, when you cut that hole into that wall. CASTIEL: Dean... it's your move. DEAN pounds a fist on the table and swipes the board to the floor. DEAN: Forget the damn game! Forget the game, Cas. CASTIEL: I'm sorry, Dean. DEAN: No. You're playing "Sorry!"

Dean’s still trying to solve their bigger problems, but he’s really trying to play along to appease Cas, trying to speak to him on a level he can understand. Trying to “play his game” and hope that Cas will play by the rules Dean had thought they both understood-- give and take. Mutual contribution to the conversation. But Cas continued talking about things Dean believed were irrelevant in the face of the current crisis. Neanderthals losing out to homo sapiens. And again, Cas talking poetry, and referencing the spiral narrative of creation.

The thing about Sorry! is that the game involves a lot of elements of chance, but also a lot of elements of CHOICE. I know someone’s written meta on this in the past, but really quickly, in Sorry, each player controls a number of different pawns, all of which must eventually be advanced from the starting point to their respective finish line. The playing board itself is the defined and accepted parameters of the world the game will play out on, yet there are multiple different “paths” for each player to take. The players draw cards in turn (the element of Chance) and then decide which of their pieces to advance according to the instructions on the card they selected (the element of Choice).

The thing is, in this game, Cas could’ve chosen to “play a different piece.” He could’ve made the game easier on Dean while still advancing his own position, and yet he chose to strategically remove Dean’s piece from the board. Cas was playing not just to win for himself, but to frustrate Dean’s chances to even get a fair turn to play. Cas was playing by the rules, after all, which encourage competition over teamwork. The name of the game is Sorry! after all, and “sending your opponent back to the start” is half the point of the game. Cas wasn’t going to even play in the spirit of cooperation with Dean. He wasn’t going to provide answers. This was, in a horrific way, Cas’s attempt to revert himself back to the “reprogrammed” Cas that came back from Heaven at the end of 4.20. All under the guise of playing sorry, without having to engage with it in good faith.

Dean wasn’t even asking Cas to fight here. He was trying to respect Cas’s choice to “avoid conflict.” But Cas wouldn’t even TALK to him, wasn’t even engaging with him as if HE was real. And Dean was not unreasonably frustrated.

Dean’s been fighting back against an impossible enemy that can’t be killed and has devised a way to suppress human free will into submission, so that all of humanity will willingly march themselves into the slaughterhouse. It’s horrifically WORSE than the apocalypse to Dean, and he’s desperate and at the end of his rope, and is hoping for even a spark of hope to keep fighting himself... and Cas has nothing but poetry for him.

***

And then the angels show up, prepared to take the Prophet with them, as if Kevin was their property. Kinda raises some questions about how the Prophet Chuck could’ve been unaware of what he was, you know? Almost as if it had literally been a lie...

HESTER: You smote thousands in Heaven. You gave a big, scary speech. Then you were gone. What the hell was that?! CASTIEL: Rude, for one thing. INIAS: Where have you been? CASTIEL: Oh, Inias. Hester, I... I know you want something – answers. I... I wish it could be that… There are still many things I can teach you. I can offer, um, well, perspective. Here. [CASTIEL points a finger at HESTER.] Pull my finger. [HESTER doesn’t move.] Uh... Uh... Meg will – will get another light, and I'll – I'll blow it out again. And, well, this time, it'll be funny, and – and we'll all look back and laugh. HESTER: You're insane. DEAN: Hey. DEAN is standing in the doorway. DEAN: Heads up, Sunshine. DEAN puts his hand in an angel-banishing sigil he’s drawn on the wall outside the room. White light flares and the angels vanish.

Unlike Dean, who’d tried to be patient and understanding with Cas despite everything, Hester simply angrily demanded answers from him. And Cas... was equally evasive with her. She labeled his evasion “insane,” but Cas is 100% sane. He knows exactly what it is he’s avoiding answering for, but he’s paralyzed with fear that anything he does will only add to the problem. And Dean gets rid of the angels before they can start killing everyone (including Cas).

I mean, Cas’s answers are pretty obvious anyway, you know? His guilt, his hubris for believing he was choosing the right thing, in trying to teach the angels a better way-- Free Will and the protection of humanity-- that in the execution he lost his own free will (and his life) and unleashed a horror onto Heaven and Earth that he’s entirely incapable of fixing. It’s not like he doesn’t HAVE answers, they’re just... to much for him to even face. Guilt is a terrible thing.

***

DEAN: That is back in one piece, I see. And you're saying that there's some sort of a "How to punch Dick" recipe in there somewhere? KEVIN: I-I don't know what you're saying, but it seems kind of like an "in case of emergency" note. What did they mean by "prophet"? DEAN: Oh, no. [to SAM] Really? SAM: Yeah. Yeah, that's what the angel said. KEVIN: I don't want to be a prophet. DEAN: No. You don't at all.

Yeah... nobody wants to be a prophet. It’s a terrible job. No free will, no freedom at all, just ensnared into the service to God’s Word. (oh, and poor Kevin will try to resist, will willingly nearly kill himself trying to turn God’s Word around into a weapon he can wield. I can see why Chuck would single him out for specific “punishment” for messing around with his story like that.

***

MEG: Yeah. Yeah, Castiel. It's me. DEAN: Cas? Where? Where is he? MEG: [to DEAN] Shut up. CASTIEL: I’ll stop speaking. MEG: No. No, Cas. You talk. CASTIEL: [audible over MEG’s phone] I’m in a place called Perth. MEG: Perth? DEAN: Perth? As in Australia? MEG: What dogs? [to DEAN] He says he's surrounded by unhappy dogs. CASTIEL: They’re chasing a rabbit around [indistinct]… MEG: Oh. Okay. He's at a dog track in Perth. CASTIEL: I’m surrounded by large unhappy dogs. MEG: Yeah, they're unhappy 'cause the rabbit's fake. Listen, we're on highway 94, north of St. Cloud, Minnesota, just passing mile marker 79. CASTIEL materializes in the back seat between MEG and KEVIN.

Okay, first off, miscommunication. This is just riddled with miscommunication. But the background conversation, Cas is at a dog track surrounded by large, unhappy dogs. Kinda makes interesting light of all the “Dean is a Weird Dog” the show has been hammering on for years-- both literally and metaphorically. But... these dogs at the track are given the runaround. They’re trained to run a specific track for the entertainment of the spectators, running in endless circles chasing after a lure that they can never quite catch before they arrive at the finish line, where even winning the race just means they’ll have to run another round around the track the next day. And the lure? The rabbit they’re trained to follow after? It’s fake. It’s all part of the bigger game the poor dogs can’t escape from. I’d be unhappy, too.

Which is all a tidy metaphor for how Dean feels in s15, but how Cas has seen pretty much everything since way back at this point, if not far earlier.

Hence even more miscommunications, or at the very least each of them not understanding where the other is even coming from, based on these wildly different baseline perspectives. Cas, as an angel, had always been one of the spectators before Dean had pulled him into the race, so to speak. He’s always understood all of existence as a sort of game in this way, but Dean had never even had an inkling of the bigger game they were all part of all along. He’d thought he understood the rules, understood his role in the game, and it took until s15 for him to see that all of it had been a game to Chuck. That even when he’d thought he’d escaped the endless go-around of fake rabbits, it had only put him back at the startling line over and over again to run another race. And Cas... can’t understand Dean’s perspective here any more than Dean can understand Cas’s, despite them each believing they actually understand one another and just don’t care... awful, right?

***

CASTIEL: They're from the Garrison – my old Garrison. Looks like Hester's taken over. We were assigned to watch the earth. Often, it was boring. The wars were very boring and the sex – you know, the repetition. Anyway, I was, uh... I was their captain. Isn't that strange? SAM: Cas, why are they pissed at us now? CASTIEL: [to MEG] You know, those racing dogs were absolutely miserable. They can only think in ovals. DEAN: Cas, don't make me pull this car over! Why are angels after us? CASTIEL: Are you angry? Why are you angry? DEAN: No, I-I'm... Please, can we just stay on target? CASTIEL: There is no reason for anger. They're only following protocol. If the Word of God is revealed, a keeper of the Word will awaken, like this [He touches KEVIN’s nose] hot potato right here.

Observing creation enabled Cas to see the “repetition.” The endless loops. Like the dogs running in ovals. But he’s unable to connect with humanity directly right now, unable to risk feeling. And we’re back to doorways to doubt, and the same “only humans can feel true joy.” But also suffering. As long as he remains at a distance, he can protect himself from feeling all of that, from having to recognize his part in it.

And he doesn’t understand why Dean is angry that he keeps talking in circles.

Dean just wants to know why the angels are angry at THEM, why they’re coming after THEM when they’ve got so many other bigger problems they’re trying to solve.

***

CASTIEL: Anyway, Garrison code dictates you take the keeper to the desert to learn the Word away from men. DEAN: What kind of sense does that make? He has to tell us so that we can use it. CASTIEL: That's God and his shiny red apples.

Cas didn’t expect anything less from God. Dean just wants to stop the Leviathan from eating humanity and destroying life as they knew it, and Cas... doesn’t have anything to give.

***

DEAN: Okay, you know what? Screw the Garrison. We need the tablet to end Sick Roman's "Soylent Us" crap. CASTIEL: If you want the Word, you'll have to duck Hester and her soldiers. SAM: Yeah, you're in our corner, right, Cas? CASTIEL: No, I don't fight anymore. I watch the bees.

see? yet despite that declaration, Cas does try to help how he feels comfortable-- painting sigils to hide them from angels, but leaving off banishing sigils or he himself wouldn’t be able to stay. Kind of a conundrum, right? Sacrificing some of the safety Sam and Dean could’ve worked into the sigils so he himself could remain in the room with them.

***

CASTIEL: You seem troubled. Of course, that's a primary aspect of your personality, so I sometimes ignore it. SAM: Okay. Um... right now I'm just wondering about you. CASTIEL: What about me? You're worried about the burden I lifted from you. SAM: I think I was done for. Do you see Lucifer? CASTIEL: I did at first. But that was... It was a projection of yours, I think, sort of an aftertaste. Now I more see... well, everything. It's funny. I was – I was done for, too. The weight of all my mistakes, all those lives and souls lost, I... I couldn't take it, either. I was… I was lost until I took on your pain. It's strange to think that that helped, but – SAM: I know you never did anything but try to help. I realize that, Cas, and I'm grateful. We're all grateful. And we're gonna help you get better, okay? No matter what it takes. CASTIEL: What do you mean, "better"?

And here we have it. Sam plainly expresses his own guilt and regret over what’s become of Cas. But Cas hasn’t even begun to see how deep he’s buried himself to avoid dealing with his own guilt. Using Sam’s trauma as a sort of penance, he’s using that to “transfer” his own guilt away from himself, the way he shifted Sam’s trauma into himself. As if the second shift washes away the first and he’s wiped the slate clean. As long as he lets himself believe that, he doesn’t have to face what he’s done, and the consequences of his own choices.

Which is... kinda what Dean’s doing in early s15.

***

KEVIN: I am not prepared to factor the supernatural into my [DEAN puts the brown paper bag over KEVIN’s face] world view. DEAN: Okay, there we go. [He pats KEVIN on the back.] That's it. That's it. Just breathe. Take it easy. KEVIN holds onto the bag and breathes into it. DEAN: Oh, I don't know, man. What can I say? You've been chosen. And it sucks. Believe me. There's no use asking "why me?" 'Cause the angels – they don't care. I think maybe they just don't have the equipment to care. Seems like when they try, it just... breaks them apart.

I mean, Dean’s seen what trying to care has done to Cas. And Dean... was the one who pushed Cas to care in the first place.

***

And Meg kills a couple of demons who’d picked up their track, but that also brings the angels back down on them:

MEG: Typical. I save our bacon, and you're sitting here, waiting by a devil's trap. Seriously, I just killed two of Crowley's men. I could have gone the other way on that. CASTIEL: It's true, incidentally. There's other demons' blood on that blade. MEG: Look, I'm simpler than you think. I've figured one thing out about this world – just one, pretty much. You find a cause, and you serve it. Give yourself over, and it orders your life. Lucifer and Yellow Eyes – their mission was it for me. DEAN: So, what? We should trust you because you wanted to free Satan from Hell? MEG: I'm talking "cause," douchebag, as in reason to get up in the morning. Obviously, these things shift over time. We learn, we grow. Now, for me currently, the cause is bringing down the King. And I know we'll need help to do it. DEAN: Crowley ain't the problem this year. MEG: When are you gonna get it? Crowley's always the problem. He's just waiting for the right moment to strike. I know what I'm supposed to do. And it isn't screw with Sam and Dean or lose the only angel who'd go to bat for me. SAM breaks the devil’s trap with his foot. CASTIEL: This is good – harmony and communication. Now our only problem is Hester.

yeah, but they haven’t really communicated anything useful yet. But Cas does know that the angels are about to find them again...

***

HESTER: You took the Prophet from us?! CASTIEL: I'm – I'm sorry? HESTER: You have fallen in every way imaginable. INAIS: Please, Castiel. We have to follow the code. Help us do our work. DEAN: He can't help you. He can't help anybody. HESTER: We don't need his help... or his permission. HESTER nods to INAIS, who nods back. There is the sound of angel wings and INAIS disappears. HESTER: The Keeper goes to the desert tonight. INAIS reappears with KEVIN. DEAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back off. We're actually trying to clean up one of your angel's messes! You know that. CASTIEL: He's right. An angel brought the Leviathan back into this world, and – and they begged him. They begged him not to do it. DEAN: Look, just give us some time, okay? We will take care of your Prophet. HESTER: Why should we give you anything... After everything you have taken from us? The very touch of you corrupts. When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost! For that, you're going to pay. HESTER walks towards DEAN. CASTIEL: Please. They're the ones we were put here to protect. HESTER: No, Castiel. HESTER backhands CASTIEL and he falls to the ground. INAIS and the other MALE ANGEL each hold up two fingers to stop DEAN and SAM from going to CASTIEL’s aid. HESTER: No more madness! [She punches CASTIEL.] No more promises! [She punches CASTIEL again.] No more new Gods! [She punches CASTIEL repeatedly and then holds up an angel knife.]

I couldn’t decide how to break this up to talk about it, because one thing leads directly into the next, and it all goes to context.

Hester accuses Cas of falling “in every way imaginable.” In the wake of their brush with free will, the remaining angels are attempting to restore the old order to Heaven, because there’s not much left to them than what they’d known before. When the new rules fail, the only thing they know to do is revert to the old rules.

Dean calls them out on it, and Cas even steps in to support Dean’s words. Only Cas can’t even say *I* and *me* here. He talks about himself in the third person, but at least he’s acknowledging what kicked off this mess, even if he’s still not taking direct responsibility for it. Not only that, he acknowledges that Dean had tried to stop him, and that he’d refused to listen. This seems to be a key point again in 15.03. The inability to acknowledge guilt and responsibility, and the refusal to listen. This entire conversation is just a few painful twists away from the Breakup Scene in 15.03.

But Hester lays down The Worst Truth, that Dean himself is at fault for destroying Cas, for just the TOUCH of him “corrupting” Cas, breaking him until he broke the world. To Dean, this was the equivalent confirmation of all his worst fears-- he’s poison, he’s worthless-- that Cas got from Belphegor in 15.03-- that Dean doesn’t care about him beyond his usefulness. But this is something that Dean will carry with him for YEARS, and which Dean will continue to feel in every dealing he has with Cas going forward-- that HE is at fault, that HE is unworthy, that everything that makes Cas “fall” in any way is because of him, because he’s poison. And so he internalizes every mistake that Cas makes, every burden he endures, as his own, because it’s all his fault anyway, right?

But Cas, too, learned a lesson here as Hester beat and prepared to kill him: NO MORE MADNESS. NO MORE NEW GODS. And when confronted with the truth of what Belphegor planned-- to become a new god in the same way that Cas had-- he understood what he had to do. He would not exchange one problem for another, exchange one apocalypse for one that would likely be even worse. It was a terrible choice, and I think this is the root of his decision.

***

Here have some dramatic irony, and the demon saving Cas’s life:

INAIS: Hester! No! [He grabs HESTER’s arm.] Please! There's so few of us left. HESTER punches INAIS in the face with the hand holding the knife. HESTER: [to CASTIEL] You wanted free will. Now I'm making the choices. HESTER raises the knife. White light blazes from her chest and she falls to the ground. MEG has stabbed her. MEG: What? Someone had to.

Hester claimed she was choosing her actions now, using the same excuse of Free Will that Cas himself had claimed as his motivation for swallowing Purgatory in the first place. Even when everything she’d done had been in the name of restoring the Old Order, of following the Rules that angels had always obeyed. Talk about not getting the point of Free Will.

This is what Dean’s struggling with now in s15, with his own long-held understanding of what Free Will even meant, with this new context that Chuck had repeatedly thrown new obstacles in his path, personally. There are no rules left, or so it feels like to him. There’s nothing to revert back to, or hold on to as an ideal, when every choice they make has been engineered to lead them to equally bad outcomes.

***

But Cas... he’s understood this for a very long time:

INAIS: These are strange times. CASTIEL: I think they've always been. INAIS puts a hand on CASTIEL’s arm. INAIS: I wish you'd come with us. CASTIEL: Oh, I'm not part of the Garrison anymore, Inias. I'm sorry.

Sure, he’ll be forced back against his will, but in a way that will help save him eventually. It won’t feel like salvation for years to come, though, but it’s a journey.

***

SAM: Here. “Leviathan cannot be slain but by a bone of a righteous mortal washed in the three bloods of the fallen.” Uh... It says we need to start with the blood of a fallen angel. SAM and DEAN look at CASTIEL. CASTIEL: Well, you know me. [He holds out a small bottle.] I'm always happy to bleed for the Winchesters. CASTIEL hands the bottle, which is filled with blood, to DEAN. DEAN: What are you gonna do, Cas? CASTIEL: I don't know. [He smiles.] Isn't that amazing?

AAAAHAHAHAH. Angel blood, required by Belphegor’s first spell. This scene was directly paralleled in 15.01, and with context, it’s it awful? After refusing to fight for the entire episode, Cas is happy to bleed. To do penance, but not to be burdened with action or responsibility. And with complete freedom to choose his next move, to choose for himself what to do with himself, he... chooses nothing. And heck, I get it, after billions of years of thinking he didn’t have ANY choices, suddenly he’s presented with EVERY OPTION, and is DELIGHTED by that.

But the one thing he WON’T choose? Staying with Dean. Standing by Dean’s side while he fights to clean up Cas’s mess.

Dean’s next line to Sam after Cas leaves? “Well, let’s get to work.”

They can’t rest yet. They can’t stop, because the world’s still ending and they’re still entirely on their own. Only now they’re armed with at least a DIRECTION they can work toward. It’s something, but... it’s still just the two of them alone against the apocalypse. Which is what Cas had spent s6 trying to avoid. And can’t face at all now.

And this is what Dean had long since resigned himself to-- that Cas, given the choice, would leave. So Cas choosing to leave in 15.03? I think Dean was shocked he hadn’t left sooner.

And then of course there’s the angels dying when they return Kevin to his home, only to be deceived by Leviathan and abducted.

He just couldn’t win. And neither could Cas, and neither could Dean and Sam. It was an unwinnable game that would just break them all again.

I could do a post like this for 7.22, and for 7.23, and probably for every other episode from all the episodes between then and now, but this has taken me all day. I really hope y’all are making all the same connections, spotting all the thematic subversions and twists of every turn of the narrative spiral between then and now. But this episode killed me today. And it gives a lot of obvious context to Dean and Cas’s choices and issues in early s15 that led to the Breakup. But hopefully it also lays down the foundation of what they truly need to put out on the table to move past this impasse.

They need to put down something better than Sorry! They need to use real words and actually listen to each other. But the fact that scene in 15.03 directly called out this miscommunication, this refusal to listen (and it’s not just on Dean here, but Cas has refused to listen, too). And now the narrative demands they have that conversation for real. For their own good, but for the good of the world, to break these eternal ovals and finally break free of this endless chasing after the fake rabbit.

#spn s15 spoilers #spn 15.03 #spn 7.21 #spn 15.01 #spn 15.02 #destiel #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass #it's spirals all the way down #spiders georg of the tnt loop #s15 meta rewatch #using your words #holy crap this is long... it's taken me all day because i had to keep stopping and doing something cheerful in between thinking about it

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malariaessay439 · 4 years

Video

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halfthebattle · 6 years

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Why I was gone for 3 months

Hello!

First of all, Happy New Year!! Allow me to begin this blog post by welcoming my new readers. Here’s a hug for all of youuuu. >:D< I am in shock that I still gain followers despite being inactive for the last couple of months. Nevertheless, I am deeply grateful and appreciative for the messages I’ve been receiving from both of my old and new readers. Thank you all so much for the concern. I know my last post was very alarming. It was wrong of me to leave you guys hanging without any explanation. But here I am. I hope you are ready for another life update from me and I also hope that you forgive me for not replying. I promise that I’ll reply, please just give me some more time. I rarely open my Tumblr app, and if I do, I just want to stay quiet for a while.

You see, I just couldn’t bring myself to blog for the last three to four months even though I really wanted to. I guess I was waiting for all the frustrations, anger, and pain to subside a little bit before I could share what happened. When I first started my Tumblog, I wanted it to be platform for my mental condition – you know, how I break down occasionally, how I have depressive and manic episodes so that others will be aware of the life that people who are mentally ill are experiencing. I didn’t want to share too much about anything from my personal life – family life and love life (haha!). But right now, I feel like I need to share some so that you would know why I was gone for months.

I was busy healing, and I am still busy healing now. I just got out of an almost 5-year relationship with my first love last October 27, 2018. I want to share the reason why we broke up, but I don’t want my first ever blog post about him to be so negative so that you guys won’t have an ugly or bad impression on him. For him, the reason of the break-up is “just a big misunderstanding”, but to me, it was so much more than that. After a week or two, I still fought for the relationship, but I guess he just saw how stubborn and hard-headed I was for begging him to talk things out with me. I admit that this is not the first break-up that the two of us had, but damn, if I knew it would be this serious and difficult this time, I would’ve prevented the small break-ups from the past. Kasi sa totoo lang, sisiw lang pala ‘yung mga ‘yun. I think I was so foolish before to say, “Pagod na ako. Ayoko na.” kasi kung tutuusin, looking back ha, mas kaya ko pa pala ‘yung mga ‘yun kaysa sa ngayon. Noon na sinabi kong pagod na ‘ko, na hindi ko na kaya, parang gusto kong i-take back lahat, kasi walang wala pala ‘yung mga ‘yun kumpara sa ngayon. Gusto kong ibalik yung oras para sabihin na, “Hindi, kaya ko pa. Kaya pa natin ‘to eh. Tara, ayusin natin ‘to. Pagsubok lang ‘to.” Pero ayun, tama nga ang sabi nila, nasa huli ang pagsisisi.

I couldn’t say that I have no one to blame but me, because in my perspective, he was the one who made the wrong choice or wrong move that led us to the break-up – I was only one of the factors that influenced his choice. I guess it’s safe to say that we both screwed and messed up so bad that we were left with no other choice but to end the relationship. We were already toxic to each other, and we weren’t growing anymore. Maybe, right now, we need some time and space away from each other so that we would be able to find ourselves and be whole again. We need to heal. We need to grow apart so that if ever there will come a time when we’ll get back with each other, we’ve already become matured enough for a serious, committed, loving and responsible relationship.

It took us a lot of twists and turns and hurtful failures to make me realize that I’m still not ready to be in a relationship because I, alone, don’t even know how to love myself. But what bothers me about it is that, even before we became a couple, I already warned him that I am not whole, that I am broken, that I do not like myself and when we were already a couple, he told me that he’d love me enough for the both of us, and that love is still aside from the love he alone has for me. Kumbaga, siya ang magpupunan ng kulang na pagmamahal ko para sa sarili ko at dagdag pa roon yung pagmamahal na mayroon siya para sa akin. We were both young and I believed him back then. But it was wrong. I shouldn’t have relied on to his words. I shouldn’t have relied on to him for a love that I cannot give myself. I shouldn’t have ‘obligated’ him or ‘made him responsible’ for the love that I owe to myself.

Another thing that hurts me is that after the break-up, I felt like I was hard to love, na walang tatagal na relationship sa akin kasi mentally ill ako. It pains me to see myself as someone who’s hard to be with that the thought of it made me want to ready myself for growing old alone. You know, tatandang dalaga. Haha.

After the break-up, I did all sorts of things to distract myself and while I know that blogging must be one of those things, I felt like it would only make me remember about what happened. Don’t get me wrong – I want to write about him because it helps but being finally able to write about him in a long post like this gives me all sorts of emotion that I didn’t want to add up to what I’ve already been feeling.

Last November 03, 2018, it was his first birthday in years that I didn’t get to celebrate with him. I wanted to surprise him, because I’m that type of girl – full of ideas and surprises, but I grew weak already. I thought, “What for?”. That’s why I only wrote him a letter instead. A long one. A twelve-page letter to be specific. I poured my heart out to it, but I feel like there’s so much more to tell him.

We still see each other at church and there was this one time before the year ended that his family invited me over dinner because his mom went home from Saudi. I joined them for dinner, but we were not talking to each other the whole time. His family felt like my second home, but damn, that night, my heart was breaking. Napamahal na ako sa pamilya niya at tinuring ko ng mga kapatid ko mga kapatid niya kaya ang hirap.

This year’s New Year celebration was also the first time in years that we are not together anymore. I can still remember that we’d always send each other long and sweet messages during New Year, but while waiting for 2019, I told myself that I won’t greet him anymore because it’s better off to not include him in the year I’m about to face. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, “Ako naman.” But on 12:26 A.M. of January 01, he texted me, “Happy New Year po..”, to which I replied 20 minutes after, “Happy New Year din po.” He responded, “Salamat po.” And that was it.

Like I said, we still see each other at church every week so I got used already to the pain of seeing him from time to time. I can still remember that there were times when I felt nothing but anger, and there were times when I completely felt nothing. As in zero nothing. I became numb.

But right now, I can honestly say that I am proud that I overcame those moments. Knowing myself, I am not strong when it comes to the both of us. He’s like my strength and weakness combined into one. If I were Superman, he’d be my kryptonite. We would always see each other every day no matter how busy we were, and we’d go to church for our devotional prayer every night. During fights, I couldn’t heighten my pride for him, and I couldn’t stand not talking to him and bugging him because I loved him so dearly, so much. That’s why the pain is that strong on me, because the love I have for him is that immense. I can honestly say that this is the longest break-up I’ve survived. It was not easy. It is never easy. Pero kinakaya ko naman. At kakayanin ko pa.

Aside from the break-up, I’ve been busy with school work. This is my last semester in college and I’m hoping to graduate this March. I have a lot on my plate because we have our Strategic Financial Plan which is basically our thesis. Hindi siya ganun kadali kasi real company ang involved dito at gagawan namin sila ng 5-year financial plan based sa mga inputs na binigay nila sa amin, mainly their financial statements from 2013 to 2017.

Busy rin ako kakagala. Share ko lang: After the break-up, saka lang ako natuto mag-inom o ‘maglasing’. Oo, late bloomer na ako, pero nadiscover ko na hindi pala ako ‘yung tipo na kapag nalasing eh umiiyak. Ako yung tipo na lasing na matapang, yung walang nararamdaman, pero ako rin yung tipo na nag-eEnglish o nagiging conyo. Hahaha! Ayun, maraming ganap nung naghiwalay kami. In-enjoy ko sarili ko. I’ve also been busy taking care of myself because I believe that I owe me an apology. May mga times na sobrang sinisisi ko pa rin talaga sarili ko more than I blame my ex (it took me weeks or even a month before masanay na tawagin na siyang “ex” because I was like, “OMG, for real na ba ‘to?!” Haha). I’ve been doing all that I can so that I wouldn’t self-harm or fall into a bottomless pit of despair.

Hindi ko ma-enumerate lahat ng pinagdaanan ko. Ang alam ko lang, I’m still busy healing.

Ikaw? Kumusta ka na? Tara, kwentuhan tayo. 😊

#deardiary #personal #life #life update #depressed #depression #mental health #mental disorder #mentally ill #school #college #lovelife #haha

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chinuppoppins · 6 years

Note

prompt- tandy and tyrone are pen pals that meet up at some point.

So uh, this is going to be a either two or three part-er. I had fun with this one and may have gone a little off topic. Hope it is still alright!

Tandy sighs when her mom hands her the sheet of paper, her brow raising almost off her forehead when she reads the heading. “You adopted a solider for me?” She asked slowly and Melissa nodded from the other side of the counter. The diner isn’t as busy as it usually is, the rainy weather had something to do with it. “Mom, seriously?”

Melissa Bowen wipes her hands against her apron and shakes her head. “Honey, I’m concerned, that’s all. You seem lonely to me, I mean you don’t have any friends, Liam screwed you over-”

“That asshole better hope I don’t get my hands on him!” A voice yells from the back and Tandy sighs when Greg looks through the window at her annoyed face. “What? Who the hell steals EVERYTHING you own and leaves town like that.”

“Mom, Greg, really- I appreciate the thought, but I’m alright on my own.” She told the older, concerned adults while her mom rolls her eyes.

“Just write ‘em, give it a chance. I have a feeling that those men and women serving are just as lonely as you are.” Melissa says.

Tandy looks down at the paper and the name of the person she was sponsoring. Tyrone Johnson. “I’ll think about it.” and then looks down at her phone. “Ah shit, I’m late for class. I’ll see you two later.”

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

A few weeks pass when she comes across the paper that her mom gave her crumbled at the bottom of her bag, smashed by her books. Tandy sits on her bed as she begins to read the letter.

‘Dear Tandy,

Thank you for adopting one of our soldiers through their deployment. The kindness and support that you will be providing will help their time from home a little easier. Provided within is the name of the soldier you will be sponsoring. Please keep in mind that your soldier may be in a remote location so internet access is limited as well as receiving letters.’

She eyes the rest of the letter until she comes across his name again. PVT Tyrone Johnson. She sighs as she reaches for her computer and types his email address. Tandy honestly doesn’t know what to say. So she wings it. “Hi, Tyrone. I’m Tandy Bowen, your pen pal/personal care package sender. So is there any specific items you want or need. Just, you know, nothing gucci cause I am on a college budget. But um, thanks for your service and stuff, I mean honestly, I’m not too sure if I could ever do it, especially with the man that was put in charge of our country. Anyways, hope to hear from you.”

She reads it over a few time before just saying fuck it and sends the email before crashing into her bed. At least she was attempting to reach out to another human.

----------

Months pass and she was in the middle of writing a thesis statement when her computer bings with a small notification at the right side of her screen. She clicks it and is quickly brought to her gmail account and an email from her soldier buddy. A small smile plays on her lips and she quickly opens it up and blinks the sleep from her eyes.

“Hey Tandy, I’m seriously sorry it took me this long to get back to you. I really didn’t know I was signed up for the adopt a soldier program until I got your email. I reached out and found out that it was my mom that took the initiative to sign me up. Don’t worry though, I’m not an expensive guy and besides, Gucci doesn’t play well with desert camo anyway so your wallet it saved for now. It’s cool though that you are in school, what’s your major?

Yeah, I know the country is screwed up. Though my vibe on joining The Marines was to protect the innocent you know? I mean, someone’s gotta look out for the little guy.

Um anyway, below is a list of some necessities if it isn’t too much of a bother for you. Can’t wait to hear from you again!

-Tyrone Johnson.”

Tandy finds herself reading the email more then once and then finally the list he sent, it’s the usual types of things that a person would need. Through her eyes stop at the fact that he requested food and not just any type of food, but candy, specifically sour patch kids. She decides then and there that her first priority was to get this guy some sour patch kids first thing in the morning.

------

For Tyrone Johnson, joining the Marines and leaving his home was what would help him succeed in life. He thought that this path would give him respect and yeah, it was harder most days than others. Though a day he saw as a good one was when he received an email from a spunky sort of girl. It takes him a while to come up with a good reply for her and when he does, he sends it as quickly as he could.

But a reply never comes back, maybe he crossed a line with her? Hell if he knew. However he eats his thoughts when he hears. “Johnson, mail for you!”

It’s a medium sized box that he quickly rips into, his eyes meet a bag of sour patch kids and he beams. She had gotten his email and she actually got him the candy, alright, this Tandy Bowen was amazing. His eyes quickly fall to an envelope with ‘Read Me’ written neatly on it. So he sets aside his candy and carefully opens up the envelope to find a letter written on a piece of college ruled loose leaf paper. The writing is neat, pretty and in a mixture of cursive and print. There is a faint smell of lavender on the paper and some of the items in the box. He skims the note before fully reading it, chuckling at the doodles in the corner of the page. There was something about a handwritten letter that was much deeper and personal.

“Hey, Ty!

Just so you know, the lecture I am in is super boring right now so rather than falling asleep like the sleep deprived girl that I am, I decided to do something much more interesting which is writing to you.

I think that your reasoning for joining the Military is really honorable and of all things, The Marines? Pretty awesome. I am majoring in Biological Sciences at Loyola University. It’s in my home city of New Orleans. I’ve always been interested in science, kinda nerdy, yeah, but it’s what I am was always good at so why not?

So I looked through your list, and while I approve of your candy choice (sour patch kids are my second favorite candy after all) , I decided to throw in a few of my favorites as well. You got to broaden your horizon, my friend. What I wish I could send you is a Beignet, you haven’t lived till you’ve tried one. My mom and her boyfriend own a diner and while Greg is awesome, he sucks at making them. So we get an order every morning from the bakery and I am not allowed to touch them.

I was actually kinda wondering how old you are, Tyrone Johnson, where you came from, life before you joined up? I mean you don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I’m 20 though, I waitress at my mom’s diner and like I said, on a college budget.

Talk to you soon!

Tandy”

Tyrone smile stretched from ear to ear and of course one of his commanding officers notices. “What's got you so giddy, Johnson?”

Frank Castle is a pretty intimidating sort of guy. He was at least six foot two and was complete muscle. “It’s a package sir.” Tyrone explains as Frank nods, folding his arms across his chest and smiles. “My mom signed me up for the adopt a soldier program, so this girl just sent me a care package.”

Frank plops next to him and looks into the package. “Whoa, she sent swedish fish, those are my favorite. Karen would never send me those,” He chuckles. “Though Lisa might sneak some in the care package.” Most of the men knew Frank’s story. His wife and him divorced mutually and a few years later, he met Karen Page. She was a reporter that his daughter had actually set him up with. “So you know anything about this girl?”

“Uh, she is a college student, we come from the same city, but she doesn’t know that.” Tyrone tells him. “Her mom owns a diner and she goes to school for- biological science.”

“So you finally over that Evita girl?” Frank asks, mouth full of swedish fish

Tyrone thinks for a moment and then shrugs. “I think so, maybe.”

“Don’t be so indecisive kid, women hate that. Write back to that Tandy girl, see those written letter hold more of a punch, trust me.” Frank advises before taking another handful of sweets and leaving him with a pen and paper.

‘Hey Tandy,

Thanks for the package and the candy. So you are from New Orleans, huh? Well, we have something in common-’

-----

She is on her break at the diner when she finally reads Tyrone’s letter. It’s neatly handwritten, unlike any sort of handwriting from a guy she had ever seen. She remembered reading something about how you could know someone through their penmanship, and maybe it was right.

‘- I’m from New Orleans too. I grew up in the lower ninth and then moved to MidCity when I was nine. I’m missing the food though and my parents. When I come home for leave, I plan to just eat my weight in beignets and calas. Another thing we have in common? Well I just turned twenty myself while on duty. My mom was upset that I wasn’t home for it. She gets scared sometimes, you know? I have an older brother, he’s in a wheelchair from being gunned down by some crooked cop when we were kids. Mom was never the same after that. I had a nine o’clock curfew till I left for basic. I can’t blame her though. Maybe, if it’s not to weird, we could meet up when I go on leave? I could come to your mom’s diner so it’s not that awkward.’

Tandy doesn’t miss the fact that there is a stray tear making its way out of the corner of her eye when she reads Tyrone’s letter, though her heart skips a beat when he asks if he could meet her. She panics, would he even like the girl that he would be meeting? Weren’t they moving too fast, they had to be moving too fast. What if he was catfishing her, could that be a thing. This whole pen pal thing was supposed to be a way to make a long distance friend, not one that was from her hometown. So in her nature, she decides to run from this and him.

The summer months pass and she still can’t rid of the nagging guilt that had been eating away at her. How she so carelessly ditched someone who was slow close to being called a friend. She has morning shift at the diner, her mom is already there and so is Greg, cooking up breakfast.

“Tandy!” Her mom exclaims as she walks through the door. “Can you do me a huge favor and take care of table three?”

Tandy nods as she walks past the table first, going back to the kitchen to pull her apron on and her hair up. She rounds the corner again and pulls out a notepad and a pen. “What can I get for you?” She asks, eyes trained on her paper.

“A beignet would be great.” A male’s voice says. “Though I was told they were not made here, since Greg sucks at making them. Did you remember to pick them up this morning?”

She freezes and looks up from her notepad, her pen falls to the floor and her voice isn’t quite working. Sitting before her, is a young man in a military uniform. She blinks once, then twice to make sure she isn’t seeing things and then asks. “Tyrone?” In an unsure tone and he smiles. He’s more handsome than she imagined with a strong jaw, beautiful eyes and a sculpted chin. She wondered for a moment if he was made from marble or something like that and had to fight off the need to actually trace his jawline with her fingers. Tandy glances over at her mom who had a shit eating grin on her face and then sits across from Tyrone. She had a million questions, she she just goes with the first one. “How did you find me here?”

Tyrone sits back against the booth, his hat on his left and tells her. “After you never got back to me, I got worried that maybe I crossed a line. I wanted to drop me, but Frank Castle wasn’t having it. He’s my commanding officer and has kinda adopted me as his son? I don’t know. I know that this sounds creepy and down right stalking, but his daughter looked you up and then told her dad, who told me what diner you work at. I’m sorry, you’re weird out, I’ll leave.”

Tandy reaches out and grabs his hand. There is a jolt, a spark almost and he stops in his tracks. “No, stay. I mean it is a little strange but, I should have wrote you back. I just, I don’t know, I got scared. I can’t believe that you actually still want to see me. I really did screw you over.”

He beams at her and she can’t get his smile out of her head, jesus christ, what was wrong with her? “Well” He tells her. “You have all week to make up for it, deal?”

Tandy stretches her hand out to shake his. “You got yourself a deal.”

#cloak and dagger #tandy bowen #tyrone johnson #tandy x tyrone #trandy #Anonymous

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squiishiichaos · 6 years

Text

Tekketsu University AU: 1

“Hey, Yamagi, wake up!”

The lump of human flesh groaned into his pillow, turning onto his stomach and disappearing further beneath the heap of blankets. Inside the nice, warm cocoon of cotton heat, it was hard to imagine why anyone—let alone his kind, caring roommate—would dare wish to awaken him from his slumber. Not after he had spent literally days the past few weeks pulling all-nighters to complete the paper part of his future thesis project while his rowdy roommates enjoyed their time off partying and relaxing.

But when he felt the fiend prod his side and roll him rather easily onto his back, he figured that the reason was probably good enough to face his wrath and possibly viable—enough so not to bloody his face with a mobile suit.

Wait…

Mobile suits?

Oh, “fuck! What time is it?” His jump from the covers clearly startled his two roommates, throwing them back a couple feet as he clambered out of bed and went about locating his discarded jumpsuit. He slipped into the tan material with a moan of effort, falling back onto the comfortable sheets of his bed as his two roommates watched in amusement. He rolled his one visible eye. “Can you please focus? This is important!”

“You know, I’d sympathize with you if it hadn’t taken three tries to finally get your ass out of bed.”

“And whose fault is that?” His blonde roommate—Takaki—had the audacity to look alarmed. It quickly shifted to offense.

“I don’t like what you’re implying. Are you blaming me for you not waking up on time for class? Because I will have you know that I have been up for an hour already while you repeatedly hit snooze.” He crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight in a very sassy manner. Yamagi had the good sense to just roll his eye and finish doing up his jumpsuit, grabbing his extra pair of gloves off his desk and getting out of bed again. He briefly took a moment to jostle his hair around a bit more before deciding that there really was nothing more he could do.

He let out a sigh and turned on his other roommate—Ride. “What time is it?” The fiery redhead looked at the nonexistent watch on his wrist with a green-eyed look of disdain.

“Let me see here, looks like it’s about time for you to get the hell off our backs and drag your ass to class. I’m not your maid; I shouldn’t be getting dragged in here to rouse your ass from beauty sleep just because Takaki here is too chicken shit to do it himself.”

“Hey!” Seniority be damned, the redhead sent an emblazoned look at the offended blonde, knocking him another couple notches off his horse.

“Shut up, you know it’s true!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s rude.”

“So what? It’s true!” Takaki rolled his brown eyes to the heavens and apparently prayed manners into the youngster living in their dorms.

And faced with a headache that could not be put to words, Yamagi decided it was as good a time as any to dismiss himself quietly from the scene. He managed to get his boots on and almost out the door before their voices were yelling after him. Luckily, some of his other dormmates took the liberty of telling them to shut up—saving him the time and effort of that failed escapade. He instead used that to propel himself as quickly as he could to his first class of the new semester, ready for whatever work the Old Man had waiting for him afterwards.

Truth be told, he liked his work.

As a mechanic for the Tekketsu School of Robotics and Mechanical Science, he got the privilege of working with some of the most advanced machinery the human mind had crafted in the last century. He was personally in charge of running diagnostics on all of their mobile suits and mobile workers—and more recently, their Gundam Frames—giving him a hands-on experience with all the finest technology this school had to work with.

Well, most of it. There were still some mobile suits even he didn’t have access to.

Even still, the ones that were available to him were more than enough to sate the need to keep his hands busy. Despite how labor intensive and exhausting maintenance could be at times, he enjoyed every minute of it. There was something about the robots he worked with that he bonded with. Ever since he was a little kid, he’d been fascinated by the ones he watched rampaging and rough housing in the Robotic sporting competitions, and that fascination had slowly grown into an obsession. From there, it had just been fate that Tekketsu happened to work with the objects of his dreams.

Sadly, though, no obsession was going to fix the fact he was late for class. And by the time he barreled into the classroom and managed to quietly collapse into his seat, it was already too late. His teacher—Eco Turbine—had noticed. “Yamagi Gilmerton, just in time for my first lecture of the semester. What’s your excuse for tardiness this time? Got locked in the hangar with your inventions again?”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I overslept.” His one visible cheek took on a flushed appearance at the glare she sent him, unamused by his lack of respect for her class. Not that it was on purpose, of course. He had never been a big morning person, even less so when his respectable roommates decided that going to bed at three am on a school night was acceptable behavior.

In spite of the terrifying dread building in his stomach, she once again released the tension coiling behind her pursed lips in a reluctant sigh of resignation. “Don’t make a habit of it this semester, okay? You still need to pass this class to get your thesis published, don’t forget that.” He nodded his head, sinking deeper into his seat. Almost immediately, the kid sitting next to him smirked, rolling his eyes in amusement.

“Way to go, hot shot.” Eugene commended him, leaning back in his seat and ignoring everything their professor said. Did Yamagi ever mention that he really didn’t like pilots?

Especially ones like Eugene. “You should really pay attention.” The boy scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“As if! It’s your job to make sure the machines are in tip top condition before they go out on the field.”

“But if something goes wrong out on the field, I won’t be there to assess it.” The blonde scowled.

“Like hell you won’t. Everyone knows you’re practically attached at the hip to your machines.” The way he said it made it sound like he should feel insulted, but he hardly took offense to the statement.

“And if I wasn’t, half of you would probably be dead.”

“Yamagi!” He inwardly groaned at the little grin Eugene sent him, turning to the professor and offering a sheepish smile. This time, she wasn’t so pleasant. “If you can’t pay attention, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.” He bowed his head in a defeated nod, sinking deeper into his seat. She let out an annoyed huff and turned back to the smartboard. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted: the most important thing to check before engaging a mobile suit equipped with the Alaya-vijnana system is,” the limiters, he silently answered. Limiters were the whole point of the neural lobe between the suits and the pilots. While on, the user had decent sensory connection with the suit they were controlling, but off allowed them access to spacial awareness of things that weren’t inherent to the human body. Thrusters, for one.

“…the limiters have been disengaged, it is unsafe to hook a pilot up to them. The amount of information that could leak into their brains is enough to lobotomize the user and potentially paralyze parts of their body. It’s always standard practice to allow the pilot to determine the limitations of themselves and their suits, and the ability to engage and disengage to whatever level of their liking. However, in the case of some suits, there are stall mechanisms built in as a safety to keep information overload in control.” Barbatos and Gusion, for instance. Even though Mikazuki—Barbatos’s pilot—had been adamant that he remove all limiters. Akihiro, thankfully, was a bit smarter than that.

“I don’t get the point, though,” one of the pilots in training—Hush—complained. “Of limiters in machines without the Alaya-vijnana system. Shouldn’t they be running at full capacity to make up for the lack of spacial control?”

“The problem with that,” Yamagi interjected, “is that the Alaya-vijnana system can be transferred and installed into any working mobile suit in service these days. Without pre-existing limiters, the engineers would need to go back to the basic coding of each mobile suit to reprogram them in.”

“So? That’s what you guys do.” He rolled his one visible eye.

“No, it’s not. We’re in charge of maintaining and fixing, not remodeling.” Beside him, Eugene scoffed.

“Yeah, right. If Shino asked you to—”

“That’s enough!” Yamagi had never loved Eco more than he did just then. Her dangerous eyes settled over each of them in a glare potent enough to silence them all into a symphony of quiet. “Now, if you’re done fighting, do you mind if I continue my lesson?” All of them nodded and she huffed again. “Good. Now, where were we…”

“I can’t believe how long that took.” Yamagi groaned, collapsing into his work station with a sigh of relief. He was quick about removing his books and slipping on his work jacket, adjusting his gloves and grabbing his trusted tablet. He scrolled through the listing of odd jobs remaining for the maintenance crew, looking for something that interested him. Some days, there were oddities found with the machines that needed special work, and other times—like today—all of them were random jobs that they were all used to doing for the various pilots on the team.

He sighed and chose one of the jobs at random, rushing over to one of the mobile suits and securing the elevation cables to his belt. He quickly scaled up the Grazer, reaching the cockpit and hooking up to the mainframe. He scrolled through the various diagnostics and data coming in through the transfer, digesting the sequence of code and highlighting any errors he spotted in the algorithms. Guessing by the amount left behind by the last technician that had played with this model, he assumed Ride was the dumbass who hooked in last. He rolled his eyes at the idea of the kid half-assing his work—again.

It was no surprise to the rest of the crew that the redhead wanted to be a pilot. Who wouldn’t?

In their school, pilots were treated like heroes. Their dorms were all doubles and singles, dressed up in lavish layers of silken sheets and comfortable beds. The maintenance team lived in suits of six or more, all of them situated in tiny bunkers with rotting beds and hardly enough space for one, let alone five. The pilots got to spend classes out on the field in mobile suits running drills and sparring, having fun in preparation for another match. The maintenance team spent grueling hours inside the sweltering hangar, suffocating in the smell of sweaty men, and looking at more lines of green against a black background than eyes in the jungle at night.

The pilots ate grandiose meals made by some of the best hands this place had to offer. The maintenance team might as well have eaten stools. The pilots all had lovers and fan clubs and supporters. The maintenance team didn’t have time. And while the pilots were well respected and loved by the community at large, no one ever noticed or appreciated them. They were just the hands behind the scenes, always working, always busy. Hell, Yamagi spent more time studying and fixing than he ever did with his friends. He didn’t have time for anything else.

Not when their heroes didn’t exactly have respect for the time, money, resources and energy that went into keeping their precious machines functioning. Half the time, their best pilots came back with their suits in a state of absolute peril. No matter who they faced or who they fought, it was always the same. They were ruthless and competitive, and if that meant losing an arm on the machine, then so be it. It had to be done.

Except that it didn’t.

He sighed again and went about reprogramming the limiters and engaging the locks in the system.

This Graze model had been a gift from the dean of the school—Mr. Naze Turbine himself. After the stunning victory the boys had against their former coach’s new team, he’d figured it was a good prize to offer. And looking at the mastery that went into designing the mechanics of the mech, he could understand why. Someone had taken a lot of time out of their lives to make this baby perfectly fit for workers like Mika and Akihiro. It had durable armor and many of the limiters were disengaged for the alaya-vijnana system, and the structure greatly resembled the make and model of the Grazes that Eco and Lafter had taught the boys on originally. He had no doubt that whoever worked this particular piece of metal would be very proud of the results.

Speaking of which. He scrolled through the list of details regarding the make and model, skimming past the credits and settling on the schematics regarding the use within the school. He stared at the letters staring back at him on the page, burning into his eyes and crushing what little hope he had left for the world.

N O R B A S H I N O

He gulped down the saliva pooling in his mouth and looked at the statistics of the machine again. He double checked the formulas and codes again and again, looking over every letter and number and character. He rechecked every single piece of the mainframe until he was absolutely satisfied with the results, making sure that there were no discrepancies or errors. And then he rechecked again.

Once that was done, he set the tablet into auto, running a protected diagnostic as he toiled with the gears inside of the cockpit.

He could tell from the smell of hot metal that someone had recently finished replacing the old controls with the Alaya-vijnana system. This particular mech had been customized for an integrated system, allowing the user to switch between different modes of control. In the first, the pilot could set the data siphon to focus on spacial awareness alone while the controls were relegated to the manual efforts of the user. In the second, the two parts were shared equally between the manual controls and the Alaya-vijnana. In the third, the machine was set to an auto pilot of sorts in which the mobile suit reacted to the thoughts of the pilot based on the information wrought by the machine.

Knowing Shino and his habit of berserking into the rampage of games and fights, he really didn’t like the idea of leaving the suit on auto-pilot. He knew that the moment the idiot took a seat in the cockpit and felt the rush of steel adrenaline in his neurons that he’d likely rush headfirst into a challenge without the slightest bit of concern. And as much as he would love to see how fast and strong this Graze could be, he also didn’t accept the image of his favorite pilot coming in beaten and bruised every time he went out to spar with Mika or Akihiro. Lord knows he was already foolish enough.

He let out a deep breath and turned back on the limiters, going through each of the manual checks he’d done and the few performed by the system maintenance. He quickly fixed any error codes and told the system to replenish the fuel in the tank, unplugging his tablet from the model and disengaging the reactor. As the mech powered down, he quickly climbed from the cockpit and took a closer look at the physical structure of the mobile suit.

It wasn’t that impressive, really. Unlike the Gundam Frames—seventy-two world class mechs made by only the finest hands in the world of robotics and technology—Grazes were the mass-produced assembly line creations that could always be counted on but never collected. There was something inherently modern and unsatisfying about them that never ceased to bore him. Although they worked well and were easy to maintain, they would never compare to the honor of working with a creation like Barbatos or Gusion.

He doubted anything ever would.

“Oi, Yamagi!” He looked down off the shoulder of the mobile suit, barely taking in the waving arm of the coordinator here in the garage. Old Man Yukinojo wasn’t the oldest person in the school, nor was he the wisest. But down here, away from the limelight, he was the best they had. And ever since he started hooking up with the ethics commander—one terrifying Ms. Merribit—it had become increasingly rare to see the tall, stout man in their midst. “You almost done up there? The boys have practice soon and Shino’s gonna need that up to par with his hefty standards.”

“On it!” He took a couple more minutes to do a final glance through the various monitors stationed around the build of the suit, checking off his list of qualifications until he was one-hundred-percent satisfied that everything was in order. After dusting off a couple flecks of dirt and dried paint, he released the tension on his elevation cord and sailed back down to the ground.

His boots landed with a thud on solid ground, echoed by a second set of footsteps. He turned on a dime and gawked at the man standing there, grinning wide at the mech beside him.

There were a lot of things he admired about Norba Shino.

Number one: he was funny. He told jokes that could light up a room in laughter for hours, sometimes without even trying. He literally spent half of his lunch time just entertaining his circle of admirers with story after story, always ending them with punch-lines and hilarious tags.

Number two: he was charming. He had this way about him that most of the other pilots didn’t. While they were all distant and reserved in their own rights, he was outgoing and determined. Honest and persistent. He always smiled at everyone, regardless of friend, foe or between. He greeted them like they were his equal, looking them dead in the eye and offering his full, undivided attention. And if they didn’t meet his look or return his gaze, he always wore this confused, curious face—like he couldn’t fathom why they wouldn’t want to look at him.

He was handsome, too. At nearly six-feet-tall, Shino was only beaten in height by Orga and Akihiro. His earthy brown hair was kept short and messy, just enough there to run his fingers through without enough to find purchase in. Against it, his honey brown eyes were always alive with mirth and alight with passionate fire. And due in part to their rigorous exercise routine, he had rippling muscles that coiled through his arms and continued into a strong chest, broad shoulders, and a six-pack that could sate an alcoholic for years.

And those goddamn studs. He didn’t know what it was about them, the earrings glistening in his ears. Perhaps because he was the only one who had them. Yamagi could never quite figure out what it was that drew him to stare at the gold diamonds, but even if he did, he dared believe it wouldn’t stop him. It was part of what made it so hard to look at the pilot now, when he was right there in front of him, only a short walk away from being in intimate proximity.

He gulped. “Oh, hey, Yamagi! You just finish checking her out for me? She’s a beauty, right? I think I’m gonna have Ride change up her colors a bit, though. That dull green just ain’t my thing. I’m thinkin’ magenta, ya know, for spirit!” Oh, great. Just make it even easier to pick him out of the damn crowd.

“Sounds…interesting.” He stuttered out, clasping his hands together to keep from fidgeting. It was hard not to when that intense stare was so intent and focused on him. “Umm, I did a diagnostic report on the main functions. The Alaya-vijnana system was installed yesterday, but I had to re-input the limiters. Would you mind…”

“Need me to test the balance?” He nodded and the pilot gave a hearty, jubilant laugh. “Well, of course! I’ll do all the tests you need, Yamagi! Just say the word!” He inwardly groaned—outwardly, he just gave a faint nod of his head and pulled on the elevation thread to take him up the height of the machine and back to the cockpit, Shino following happily behind him.

At the heart of the mech, the pilot quickly hopped into the cramped space and grabbed his hand off the thread, pulling him over the heavy metal framing to hook him in. He quickly took his hand back, intimidated by the warmth that radiated even through the thick polyester of his gloves. Shino didn’t even seem to notice. He just smiled one of his heart-shaking smiles, leaning forward so he could attach the Alaya-vijnana connector to his neck. He did so as quickly and efficiently as he could, checking the cord for any damages or leaks before he grabbed his tablet and engaged the reactor.

“You’re going to feel a slight tug at your conscience for a minute. If it gets too strong, let me know and I’ll dial back the input.” As he spoke, he tapped a few keys and ordered the Graze to start downloading strings of data through the newly established connection. He watched Shino arch out of his seat a moment, eyes going wide and nostrils flaring at the endless waves of data processing through his neural lobe. His normally intent eyes shook unsteadily for a second, flicking over sequence after sequence of code with an understanding that went beyond reason.

After a moment of restless anticipation, he finally relaxed in his seat a little, settling back into the cushion against his back with a long sigh. “Wow, Yamagi, you really weren’t kidding around with this thing. I can see all the adjustments you just made, was it to help stabilize the connection?”

“It was to block some of the unrelated functions. Right now, the suit is deactivated and so are the spacial awareness sensors. I was putting in the commands to turn them on one by one. It will let you get a grasp of your surroundings through the instincts of the machine. Here, I’ll show you.” He tapped on another sequence of code flowing down his screen and quickly made some manual adjustments, inputting another string of letters and numbers. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shino twitch and look over his shoulder, eyes bewildered and fascinated.

“Whoa, this thing is really sensitive, huh? I can practically feel Yukinojo walking behind me!” He turned back to Yamagi and smiled a wide, enthralled smile. “Is that the highest level this baby has?” The blonde reluctantly shook his head.

“There are a couple more bypasses I could run to give you more of a feel for the machine but we’d have to take them one at a time.”

“That’s fine. I have plenty of time to play around with the settings. Let’s try a couple more.” He hid a sigh and nodded, going back to the list of data streaming on his tablet and scrolling through the necessary functions. He grabbed another line of data and began to pick it apart, watching from beneath his bangs as Shino settled into the cockpit and slowly became one with the machine.

It wasn’t until hour two that Yukinojo finally ascended the elevation line and came over to check on their status, and by then, Yamagi could’ve told you Shino’s limits better than the pilot himself.

The brunette had been persistent and endless about testing each and every limiter in the machine, balancing a strong relation between man and beast as they reset all the defaults to fit him. For every battle they won in a single try, there were the six others that took about seventeen, and among them, there had been three tests that had actually forced Yamagi to remove his bangs off his left eye just to focus. And by the end of that, he was so sick of staring at the black background of his tablet that he was compelled to stare at literally anything else just to get the green flash off the back of his retinas.

He rubbed at his tired, sore eyes and stifled a groan, looking at his teacher with a grimace of irritation.

“So, how’s she lookin’? You get everything properly aligned with the hot shot here?” Yukinojo nudged his thumb at the jock and Yamagi just gave an exhausted nod.

“All her functions and attitude modulators have been reset and reprogrammed. I defaulted the reactors back to their base levels for now and redirected the extra power to her motor-drives, just like we did with Barbatos.”

“Sounds good to me. What about her sensitivity scale? To what degree are we talking with this one?” Yamagi reluctantly reopened the manual and skimmed down to that panel, opening the text and scrolling through the different operations.

“I redacted the delay a bit. She was set to stagger with the intentions of the pilot, so I dialed that back down. I turned off the hair-trigger tuner. It has a manual override worked in, though.” The Old Man smirked.

“Programmed that in yourself, huh? Smart kid.” The pilot—who had been previously looking between them with the intensity of a person who was very lost in a foreign country—looked fondly on the blonde, reaching out to ruffle his locks affectionately.

Yamagi had never leaned away from someone so fast.

That didn’t detract from the smile the brunette was giving him. “He sure is! The last time I was tested on one of these babies, it took three days. He did it in three hours.” Yukinojo chuckled.

“Less, actually. S’why I prefer to let him do most of the diagnostic checks with our pilots. He has a sharp eye for equity. Once he finds the comfort zone in a category, he leaves it alone. That’s not an easy feat, even for me.” The blonde sighed.

“I’m right here, guys. Stop talking about me like I’m not.”

“Why? It’s all good things! Jeez, can’t you take a compliment?” He rolled his eyes at the boisterous brunette, leaning away before he could touch his hair again. “Anyway, if that’s all we had to cover, I should probably get going. Akihiro and Mika want to run some sims before our real spars begin. If there’s anything we missed, just let me know and I’ll come in whenever you need me!” His eyes crinkled in a bright smile, melting the icy layer growing around Yamagi’s tired heart. The heat of a flush radiated out of his cheeks, hidden by a curt nod and a quick turn away. The pilot gave another award winning smile and quickly detached himself from the mech, swinging over the edge of the cockpit and descending in one smooth motion back to the ground floor.

They both watched him race to the door, one in admiration and the other in curiosity. But as soon as he was gone, treacherous black eyes settled on him with a Cheshire grin that had him cursing his luck for ending up close to the professor after a chance encounter with his crush.

“So, was it all you ever dreamed of?” He choked on his own spit and the large man bellowed out a laugh. “Relax, kid! I’m just pushin’ your buttons! I know you were just doing your job. I’m still amazed, though. When you worked with Mika, it took twice this long to get him settled. Must’ve been nice.” The blonde shook his head with a long repressed sigh of tension.

“There are so many functions that are going to be a little whacky on the field. I’m going to need to see the actual refined data to really finish off the adjustments, and I’m scared to see what shape this guy comes back in. All of his sensitivity monitors are set high enough to react to a pin dropping. If anyone gets near him, he’s gonna blow without even needing a prompt.” The Old Man gave a slow nod, resting his hands in his belt with his own sigh.

“What do you think the damage will be?” He scoffed.

“Minimal, at best. No way Shino’s gonna come back from a test run unscathed.” The teacher nodded again, and sent him a teasing look. Yamagi immediately shot it down with a glare. “No. Forget it. Don’t even go there.”

The man looked bewildered. “What?! I was just gonna suggest—”

“No, I know what you were gonna suggest and the answer is still no. I’d rather refurbish the beaten and broken form of this mech than get in a cockpit with him.” The teacher shook his head in humor, shrugging his shoulders and taking a hold of his own elevation line.

“Well, suit yourself! Now, when you’re done powering down that new buddy of ours, I have a couple of quick fixes I need you to take care of with the Gundam Frames. Think you can manage to get it done and close up shop tonight?” Of course. Just another all-nighter.

With another reluctant sigh, he nodded his head and hooked his transport cable up to the suspension connecting the machines. He might as well get started before someone else came in to distract him.

#gundam ibo #yamagi #shino #shino norba #yamashino #shinoyama #iron blooded orphans #tekketsu #tekketsu university au

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thedefinitionofbts · 7 years

Text

Hiraeth (M)

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Soulmate/College Au, Light Angst, Fluff, Soft Smut

Words: 18K

Description: We are always yearning for someone, even if that person may not exist in this tangible realm.

A/N: To whomever stumbles upon this piece of my heart, I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay :)

Warnings: Mildly Explicit Sexual Content

Soulmates.

Apparently everyone had one.

And everyone would have the name of their destined other half inscribed on the tender skin of their inner wrist when they turned 18.

Everyone…minus you.

It had remained the sole most exciting thing about turning 18 ever since you learned about the exhilarating phenomenon, something you had been looking forward to more than the pile of presents you knew you would be receiving on said day, more than the “surprise party” you knew your friends would be throwing you, and more than being the center of attention for a solid few hours like all the other birthdays you’ve experienced in your life so far.

It was supposed to be one of the few things in life that are guaranteed, analogous to a type of promise which does not revolve around uncertainty or a surefire plan that is carried out without fail, an occurrence not influenced by outside forces and has been written in the stars since the beginning of time. Its assurance is assumed, which is also why its ultimate letdown was able to spur so much damage.

Because on your 18th birthday, in place of the sparkling letters of the name you could practically feel on your tongue, painted in the vibrant colors of your most beautiful dreams, you are instead left with a black horizontal line- dull, ominous, and utterly frightening.

To say you panicked right off the bat would not capture the exact sequence of events in its entirety. The truth was your mind had initially blanked, leaving your soul drained of any kind of emotion, but the more you looked at the inconceivable marking the more you became intimately aware of everything that was going wrong. The growing tension as you bit back your tears made your heart clench and writhe in the confining space barred by your ribcage. It was a sharp piercing sting that only existed in your mind, but who’s to say mental pain is inferior to physical? If anything, you’d much rather opt to take the latter.

“Maybe that is their name” Taehyung had suggested rather hopefully as he stared at the horizontal line tattooed to your wrist. “Like it’s pronounced dash or something,” He rubs his thumb over the soft marking, making a more than obvious attempt at consoling you.

“Right…” You answer dully, trying not to let your disappointment push you towards taking it out on those around you. It wasn’t their fault, and you had no right to act like a shitty person. “Because some pair of parents out there decided to ruin their child’s life from the get go.”

“Maybe it’ll show up slowly,” Jimin says, also giving you a more than obvious sympathetic look. He had always sported those naturally pouty lips, but the concern dripping from his glossy eyes is enough to patch up part of your gaping wound at the very least.

“Yeah, if anything, they’ll probably find you” Taehyung adds encouragingly.

When you were younger you had never concerned yourself over finding a lifelong partner, a significant other, or “missing half” as some people liked to call it. Heck, no one did because everyone knew that when the right time came, they’d find said person and fall in love to be united for eternity. It was the satisfaction guaranteed offer printed on every individual’s wrist upon adulthood.

Of course, that was before you found out you’d end up being an anomaly.

You reach out and press the doorbell, sensing the icy air threaten to give you frostbite the second you remove your gloves. Taehyung and Jimin had invited you over to their apartment for a small get together after finals, celebrating the start of winter break and the end of yet another hard fought semester. You wait patiently for someone to open the door, snuggling deeper into the warm space created by the woolen scarf wrapped around your neck, observing the white crystalline flakes continue to fall from the sky, drifting and dancing in mid air before making their landing on solid surfaces tied to the earth- the brick windowsill, the frozen railing of the stair steps, the untouched patches of snow on the lawn that was green some seasons ago.

“Y/N!” Jimin’s cheerful voice greets you in tandem with the heated air that escapes through the opened door.

“Hey Chim” You greet, as always, attempting to return a smile as bright and welcoming as his own.

“Come in, come in” Jimin chirps, opening the door wider and scrambling to find you a pair of fuzzy slippers to change into as you remove your snow covered boots.

“Y/N!!!” You hear the familiar baritone voice that can only be described as overly zealous, shoot from the kitchen. He was most likely cooking up a storm and quite literally too. You had heard about the last time he tried to bake a cake in which Jimin ended up calling the local fire department in fear that the whole apartment would be burned to ashes.

“Hey Tae” You return the greeting. “Need some help there?” You inquire, waiting for the male to respond and hoping he knows what he’s doing this time or at least has taken extra precaution.

“Don’t worry.” Jimin reassures. “He’s been taking lessons from Seokjin.” Jimin whispers excitedly.

You laugh. Of course, Kim Seokjin, the resident chef in your group of friends, you can still practically taste the palatable flavors of his unforgettable Kimchi stew on the tip of your tongue. Oh how good that sounded right about now.

“Is he coming?” You question, wondering why Taehyung was cooking instead of the more experienced male.

“He was busy tonight. Said he was still working on finishing up his final thesis since it’s his last year.” Jimin responds.

You sigh as you plop down on their soft couch, looking around at their cozy little apartment that had basically become your second home ever since they moved out of the dorms.

It was no surprise that Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung were destined to be together from the day they were born. After 18 years of an inseparable friendship that blossomed from their days as innocent and unassuming childhood neighbors to hidden high school lovers, no one even battered an eyelash when they saw the characters of Taehyung’s name slowly appear in sparkling coral ink on Jimin’s dainty wrist, swirling in vine-like movements of cursive script and shimmering like the fiery tail of a majestic phoenix. Likewise, Jimin’s own name in celestial blue had emerged on the lightly sun-kissed underside of Taehyung’s upper forearm at exactly the same time, brushstrokes matching the tendrils of a graceful comet soaring across the dark midnight sky, putting the glow of distant stars to shame.

They were without a doubt the definition of soulmates, the perfect combination of opposing poles creating a balanced universe, the poster children of the system the world revolved around.

You didn’t even have to try to not be jealous of them or envy what they had. It’s akin to the type of comparison that’s not even assessable because the objects of comparison were on completely different levels. Like when you don’t get frustrated when someone who is way smarter scores higher than you on an exam or when you lose to someone you didn’t even have the credentials to put yourself up against in the first place. Losing to an obviously stronger opponent is not something to be angry over, just like resenting the world you had no control over was entirely useless.

Why be bitter about something you would never even come close to having?

“So is it just the 3 of us tonight?” You query, as Jimin takes a seat across from you and offers you a drink. Having quaint little get-togethers with just a few of you closest friends had become the norm so to say. Because parties and getting dead drunk on weekends was less fun after all of you had passed the age of 21, something about taking the thrill of performing illegal acts away and being tired of the same old reckless routine.

“As far as I know” Jimin confirms, taking a sip of his beer.

“Actually, someone else is coming.” Taehyung corrects from the kitchen. He walks into the living room to place a bowl of chips on the coffee table.

“What? Who?” Jimin questions, eyes fixed on Taehyung, who was starting to look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I-I..ugh, sort of invited J-Jungkook and his plus one” Taehyung swallows, waiting for the other male to respond to his revelation that you didn’t know why he was getting so nervous about.

“What the hell???” Jimin chokes on his drink making you jolt in your seat. “Jungkook as in Jeon Jungkook? Why the hell did you invite him? We barely know the guy anymore, and he clearly doesn’t share the same values as us.”

“H-he said he was tired of parties and wanted to try out more mature activities.” Taehyung explains. “And n-not in that sense, get that out of your head!” He adds quickly, face flushing a light shade of pink.

“Tae, he’s 2 years younger than all of us, he’s nowhere near mature.” Jimin argues.

“So, who is this we’re arguing over?” You butt in, unsure of what exactly was going on, or why inviting this Jungkook guy was such a big deal.

Jimin turns to you. “Someone you don’t want to get involved with” He advises. “But now that Tae has invited him over, I’m not sure you’ll be able to.” He flashes the younger male a scolding glare.

“A-actually, he…ugh… sort of invited himself” Taehyung reveals, scratching the back of his neck.

“And you agreed to it?” Jimin throws Taehyung a flabbergasted expression.

“You know I have a soft spot for the guy, and he looked so lonely.”

“Tae, Jungkook is anything but lonely.” Jimin reminds.

“He’s just misunderstood,” Taehyung counters.

“He changes girls more than he changes clothes!” Jimin retorts, a statement that makes you raise your eyebrow questioningly.

“Well technically that doesn’t say much because he likes to wear the same shirts over and over.” Taehyung fires back. “But I’m sorry ok, I can call him now and tell him something came up and-“

Jimin sighs. “It’s ok Tae, what’s done it done. Just think a little before agreeing to these things from now on.” He grabs a napkin to wipe his beer-spattered shirt.

So the part about Jungkook changing girls more than he changes clothes was evident the moment he stepped into the apartment with his arm around not one, but two gorgeous representations of the female species. The cocky look on his face screamed fuck boy, and you’d think those wouldn’t exist in a world where everyone had soulmates, but there were a good number of outliers who weren’t satisfied with one partner. The unfaithful, they were labeled, or simply those who wanted to “live young and free”.

“So much for plus one” Jimin mutters under his breath like he knew this would happen.

“Kookie!” Taehyung voice echoes through the room as he opens the door wide enough for the three people attached at the hip to walk in the doorway…barely. It was like they felt it was so necessary to sustain physical contact that they couldn’t bear to be separated for the few seconds it would take to enter one by one.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, arms still wrapped around the two girls.

You hear Taehyung murmur a soft sorry, and return to his smiling self.

“And who are these lovely ladies?” Taehyung proceeds to inquire, directing his attention to the females next to Jungkook. The ones who were eyeing Taehyung up and down and whispering god knows what into Jungkook’s ear.

“I’m Eunbi” The taller, more cold looking one replies.

“Eunha” The shorter one adds with a cute smile.

You and Jimin stare at the awkward scene splayed in front of you, namely Taehyung running out of extra slippers and having to offer his own to Jungkook while forced to be barefoot for the remainder of the night (his Christmas themed socks were pretty adorable if that made it any better), and then Jungkook and his girls walking over to squeeze on the now cramped space that is the couch you were sitting on.

Jungkook smiles and nods his head at Jimin as he makes eye contact with the older male, a grin that to any outsider would not look threatening in the least, but you knew there was some hidden strain in the otherwise casual greeting between the two, especially as you watched Jimin smile back with a beam that, for once, doesn’t reach his eyes.

Then comes the moment his pupils made their way over to land on you. A precarious lingering of distant contact that makes you feel oddly self-conscious and your heartbeat to accelerate from its normally steady pace because his cocky face falters almost unnoticeably, lips parting ever so slightly, and was that sparkle you saw in his previously cloudy iris or was that just your imagination?

“And who do we have here?” The words escape Jungkook’s lips in the form of a question directed at you. His expression had just as quickly reverted back to the way it was when he had entered the apartment.

“I’m Y/N,” You announce. “Friends. We’re friends.” You point at Jimin and Taehyung.

“Best friends” Taehyung corrects with a beam, he hastily slides over to join everyone in the living room

Jungkook ignores the emphasis made by Taehyung, most likely deeming it as unimportant. He proceeds to stare at you, eyeing the way you shifted uncomfortably next to Eunha as she pushes you towards the edge of the couch that was clearly not made for 4 people because you were practically morphing together with the armrest.

“Jungkook, your sweater is sooo soft” Eunbi purrs as she rubs his chest like she was petting a dog.

The smirk on Jungkook’s face makes Jimin cringe.

“I prefer his white button up” Eunha interjects. “You know, the one that’s kind of see through and shows off his…muscles.” A flirty smile spreads across her face.

“It’s too cold for that babe, but look forward to when the weather warms up.”

So you learn that Jungkook has been working out, or more like he announced the fact to everyone in the room, bragging about how much weight he’s able to lift now, in which Eunbi, Eunha -and you want to say Taehyung- all listened to with enthusiasm. Apparently he was a pretty scrawny kid back in high school, and now that he’s a freshman in college, he wanted to sport a new image, or in his own words, “get ripped”.

You’d call what the 6 of you were doing in the living room a “friendly conversation”, but honestly Jungkook was talking 99% of the time, and the other 1% just came in the form of awestruck gasps and one-word comments from the two other girls.

“So, you guys hungry?” Taehyung interrupts just as Jungkook pauses to take a sip of beer. You can practically hear Jimin’s sigh of relief as he hops up from his seat.

“Starving” Jimin grunts, racing towards the kitchen and almost forgetting about you.“Oh, Y/N do you want to help me set up the table?”

You ears perk up at the sound of your name. “Yes!” You reply instantly, thanking god that he turned back for you. “I would love to.”

You don’t turn back to see if Jungkook notices how obviously happy you and Jimin were to get out of there, but you figure it shouldn’t matter, not when he still has Eunbi and Eunha to keep him company.

...

It wasn’t long before the food was plated and everyone was sitting down enjoying the meal. Taehyung was telling stories of how Seokjin was able to teach his formerly hopeless ass how to cook along with Jimin’s re-telling of the infamous he-almost-burned-down-the-apartment tale. Everyone was mesmerized as they listened to the two, laughing at how comedic their expressions were and admiring their unique personality dynamic. It was always times like these when you couldn’t help but sit back and appreciate how perfect Taehyung and Jimin were for each other, something so beautiful that you honestly wouldn’t believe if you hadn’t been seeing it with your own eyes for years.

“So Y/N, is this Seokjin guy your boyfriend?” Eunha suddenly asks, her voice snapping you out of whatever thoughts you were having.

“S-sorry?” You stutter, wondering how the hell she got that idea.

“Seokjin is Namjoon’s soulmate” Taehyung butts in before realizing he said the trigger word. “Ow” He mutters as Jimin pinches his thigh under the table.

“It’s fine, guys. I think I can handle it.” You assure them, still unsuccessful in your attempts to convince their overly worried and protective selves that you’ve gotten over the soulmate thing. It’s been years. You’ve moved on. “But yeah,” You turn back to Eunha. “Seokjin and Namjoon are a pair and we’re all just very good friends.”

She nods in understanding, or what seems like a polite gesture.

Jimin clears his throat moments later. “Taehyung has also prepared dessert,” He says, giving Taehyung a hurry-and-go-grab-the-cake look. “haven’t you Tae?”

Taehyung stares as Jimin confused for a millisecond before the realization hits him, and he glides back into the kitchen to bring out the pastry he had spend all day baking and decorating to perfection.

“So pretty~” Eunha coos, clapping her hands in delight as Taehyung makes his way back from the kitchen with his masterpiece.

“Waa~” Eunbi joins in, nudging Jungkook who seems to have spaced out. You’ve barely noticed that he’s been silent all throughout dinner, too focused on Taehyung and Jimin telling stories and feeding each other lovingly.

You can almost see the faint flush spread on Taehyung cheek as he admires his own creation proudly. He begins cutting into it, serving each guest a piece of the delicious treat until there is only on last piece of cake remaining, and neither you nor Jungkook have been served yet.

“Umm….” You can physically see Taehyung’s Adam’s apple bobble up and down as he gulps in nervousness, staring at the last piece like it was a time bomb about to explode.

“It’s fine, I’m feeling full anyways.” You quickly announce, flashing Taehyung a smile as natural as possible.

“B-b-but…” Taehyung’s eyes switch back and forth between you and Jungkook.

“Actually, I’m not really a fan of sweets.” Jungkook opens his mouth to voice for the first time since everyone began eating, every one turns to the young man who had been staring at you.

“Since when?” Eunbi bursts out. “You told me you loved sweets, and you always go back for seconds when it comes to dessert.” Her mouth hangs open as she gapes at Jungkook in disbelief. You turn and see that rosy pink flowers have blossomed on his formerly uncolored cheeks.

Taehyung quickly clears his throat. “Jimin and I will just share a slice.” He quickly says while pushing his own piece in front of you and serving Jungkook the last slice that had commenced this embarrassing sequence of events.

…

When Jungkook and his girls leave, Taehyung comes back into the living room and looks at you and Jimin uncomfortably.

“Tae, don’t feel bad. It’s his fault for bringing an extra person.” Jimin consoles.

“I’m just, gah, I shouldn’t have invited him.”

“He wasn’t that bad” You shrug, causing both Jimin and Taehyung to look at you in surprise.

“Y/N, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for him already” Jimin makes a mildly disgusted face.

You almost choke on the water you were sipping. “What? No, no, I’m just saying he seemed more considerate than you guys make him sound.”

There’s a pregnant pause in which you have a minor flashback of his cocky attitude when he had walked in and the 40 minutes of straight bragging he engaged in while you were all gathered in the living room.

“Ok, pretend I didn’t say anything.” You correct, making both Jimin and Taehyung laugh.

…

When winter break does finally arrive in burst of frigid wind and snow-speckled air, the university campus turns into a frost covered ghost town-previously bustling sidewalks and grassy lawns now entirely empty and void of life.

Finals were thankfully a thing of the past, albeit not so distant, but at least the end of the semester was allowing you to somewhat breathe with ease. But like every year, you’re hit with that strange hollow feeling that settles in your gut after weeks of overwhelming stress, like diving into cold water after hiking to the top of a mountain in the heat of midsummer or stepping off of a wild roller coaster after your body had already adjusted to being accelerated in a million different directions.

Standing in front of the library, you take a long look at the peaceful patches of untouched snow, the daylight waning under the cloudy, grey expanse and the bare trees rooted frozen in the serene environment- matching with the cool undertones of the white wintery realm that had been cast over this part of the world.

Jimin and Taehyung had both gone home to their families, and were most likely celebrating this joyous season happily with their parents, siblings, grandparents, and undoubtedly, each other. The thought almost makes you wish you had decided to go home this winter break, to be back in the company of your loving parents who would probably be more than happy to prepare all of your favorite foods and talk about the past school year and whatnot. But you stay firm in your decision to give yourself some time alone, some time to think and figure life out, or do whatever you didn’t really know exactly.

You just wanted to be alone for a bit.

Taking a deep breath you begin heading back to your studio apartment, pulling out your headphones and putting your favorite playlist on shuffle. These were the times you enjoyed the most, walking alone after a long day and getting lost in your favorite music as you cleared your mind of stress and only dwelled over pure emotion, sadness, nostalgia, acceptance, hope, or whatever your heart desired.

Just as you were getting in the zone, a figure walking in the near distance catches your attention, not only because he was the only person around this abandoned area, but also because said person’s trajectory on the sidewalk would soon intersect with yours. You pull your headphones out as the dark figure almost bumps into you because he was mostly likely also lost in the music he was listening to-made apparent by his oblivious attitude towards the oncoming collision and the pair of headphones stuffed in his ears.

“Hey, watch it!” He begins to voice as he nearly doubles over while trying to avoid running straight into you. An annoyed scowl is plastered across his face, that is, until he sees who you are and the face of recognition washes over his distorted expression. “Y/N?” He murmurs in disbelief.

It was none other than Jeon Jungkook.

“H-Hey” You greet, casually, trying not to turn this into an awkward encounter or causing it to drag out into a full blown conversation.

“You’re still on campus?” He inquires, pulling out both of his earpieces and tucking them away into his coat pocket.

“Yeah, I decided not to go home this year. I’m still working part time at the coffee shop downtown.” You throw in the last part just for kicks. It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn't the full-blown truth either because you could’ve easily taken work off like you did every year, but you figured you’d spare him the details. “You’re not either?” The words leak past your lips before you’re able to remind yourself that you didn’t want to start a conversation with him.

“I’m not really into family gatherings and the idea of going home” He replies, shrugging and letting out a warm huff of air, white vapor dispersing in trails of wispy smoke.

You nod, ignoring the note of curiosity over what he actually means by that. It was a conventional gesture between strangers who didn’t understand each other beyond the most superficial of levels, a sign that you were ready to end this interaction right then and there. “Well, I’ll-“ You were about to add see you around, but Jungkook cuts in before you could finish.

“It’s k-kind of late. I can walk you back to your dorm or apartment or wherever” He offers rather nervously, if you weren’t mistaken about the way his voice went a pitch higher on a few select words, namely late, I, walk, and apartment.

The prepubescent aura he’s radiating now makes you wonder how he’s able to attract so many girls. What happened to the cocky fuck boy impression that he initially gave off? Or the one Jimin and Taehyung keep insisting he possesses and that he himself had clearly demonstrated less than two days ago?

“Ummm, no that’s ok. I don’t live far from here anyways.” You smile, kindly rejecting his spur of the moment, or so you think, offer.

“Oh, o-ok, t-then” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I’ll, uh, see you around?”

“Yeah” You affirm before proceeding to walk in the direction you had been headed before the collision. You were about to go back to listening to music when some unspecified force temps you to turn around a check to see if Jungkook had left. To your surprise he’s still rooted in the same spot, seemingly just minding his own business until your eyes meet his and causes his expression to mimic that of a deer caught in the headlights.

You raise an eyebrow, wondering why the hell he hadn’t moved at all.

“O-Oh, uhhhh…” Jungkook looks around the empty campus, clearly unsure of what to do with himself right then.

“You alright there, buddy?” You shout back, wondering why he was acting so strange and waiting for him to finish whatever explanation he was probably cooking up in his head.

“I-It’s just, I-I was about to walk in that direction too, and I didn’t want this to be like that awkward situation when you say goodbye to someone but end up walking in the same direction anyways.” The words come out almost slurred, like he was trying to spit them all out in one go. The faint flush of pastel pink is making its way back up his cheek as he makes his way towards you with a defeated sigh.

You let out a small laugh, not even knowing how to respond to this whole situation that was turning out to be more amusing than you expected. “Ok, how about you just walk with me until we end up parting ways.” You suggest, realizing that this situation was made even more awkward because the two of you were trying to avoid being awkward.

Jungkook chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his neck.

The two of you continue walking for quite some time because you actually live further from campus than most people would consider walkable, but you enjoyed it, always relishing in your much needed periods of solitude. But now walking alongside Jungkook with no music to distract either of you, it wasn’t until the silence lingering in the air was beginning to feel so suffocating that you swallowed your social ineptitude and dipped your toe into more small talk.

“So what was that about you not liking the idea of going home?” You query as Jungkook’s previous response to the question you had asked makes its way back to the front of your mind. You hope that it doesn’t sound too personal or prying, but he could always just make up some meaningless response if he was uncomfortable with sharing his real thoughts, right?

You can almost feel Jungkook tense slightly at the sudden sound of your voice before relaxing once more. “I left my home when I was really young to attend a private academy in the city” Jungkook explains. “I was raised by my grandparents in my early years, then I moved in with my parents for a few years after that. I guess I’ve just never considered certain places to be my real home. They’re all kind of just…places.” The look in his eyes is sincere-almost telling of the vulnerability hidden behind his glassy pupils in a way that made your heart soften ever so slightly. The nervousness that had been interlaced in his voice before has left without a trace as well.

“I see…” Is all you can say, and you feel kind of shitty for the fairly cold response you’re giving him.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?” You turn to glance at him startled, not expecting the same question to be directed back at you.

“I mean, why don’t you like going home?” He asks, explicitly wording the question he had previously implied.

“I-I…” You trail off, clearly remembering you had never mentioned anything about not liking to go home, distinctly recalling your intention of specifically avoiding the revelation of things you only said to yourself. It was impossible that Jungkook would know, and you almost convince yourself that he was probably just fishing, that he doesn’t actually know his question had hit a spot you had always chosen to avoid. The part about you that you don’t just reveal to anyone walking down the street or even your closest of friends.

“Come on, you can’t possibly expect me to believe work is the only reason you’re not going home for the holidays can you?”

Oh, so he’s already trying to read in between the lines? You feel a bit of embarrassment mixed with irritancy sprout like little florets in your chest. “Well, I’ll have you know, I take my job pretty seriously.” You attempt to cover up that spot, glossing over it for the nth time in your life. It was all mechanic at this point.

Jungkook looks skeptical, but doesn’t push the matter further, perhaps sensing your reluctance to continue on with the topic. The walk from that moment on turns into a relatively silent one, in which Jungkook doesn’t tell you how far he lives or even motions to head in a different direction even as the two of you close in on your apartment. The sky was already dark and the automatic streetlights had lit up just as the sun dipped below the distant horizon.

“You did this on purpose didn’t you?” You accuse with a hint of playfulness, stopping when you’re both in front of your apartment.

“I-I, ugh…” He’s searching for the words that can form the excuse he’s hoping you’ll believe, but ends up just shutting his mouth before he can make matters worse.

“Thanks” You say anyways, deciding that he was probably just worried about your safety and really didn’t have any ulterior motives.

He scratches the back of his head, tucking his reddening face lower into his scarf.

“It was kind of on the way” He shrugs. “I-I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, see you” You wave at him one last time before walking up the steps to your apartment.

…

Going to work the next week felt nothing short of routine. Now that the crippling stress from classes wasn’t an issue any more, spending long shifts at the café didn’t sound as bad as it had the weeks leading up to midterms and ultimately finals. Since it was the holidays, business was moving at a snail’s pace, causing your boredom to compel you to turn your thoughts to a certain someone you’d rather not waste your time thinking about. But you had to admit he was kind of sweet for walking you home, despite the unconventional way in which the events actually transpired, and your short conversation with him surprisingly felt a lot more personal than most of the ones you’ve had with even the closest members of your family and friends.

Waving off your own daydreams, you attempt to steer your attention towards wiping the coffee stained table when the sound of the bell signaling the entrance of more customers startles you as the coincidence of seeing the person you were just thinking about unfolds in reality, making you nearly jump out of your own skin.

“Y/N, what a surprise” The familiar voice almost gives you a heart attack as you turn around to be faced with the person you already knew it was.

He wasn’t alone this time, bringing his friend who looked to be a few years older than him into the coffee shop.

“Y/N, Hoseok. Hoseok, Y/N” Jungkook runs through the brief introduction, after ordering at the counter and making his way over to you.

Hoseok eyes you up and down, before nodding his head in approval. “Wow, Kook, your new girlfriend is gorgeous!”

“We haven’t gone out yet,” Jungkook quickly says, clearing his throat. “But what do you say we change that, babe?” He turns to you with a smug grin.

You’re caught off guard for a momentary lapse, wondering if the question was actually meant for someone else. But upon realizing that it was in fact directed towards you, you’re immediately appalled. His sudden change of personality had come as a shock. Was this what Jungkook was really like? Was he just hiding behind a façade the other day you two were alone? You were beginning to understand where Jimin and Taehyung were coming from with the way they had been so wary of the younger male. Jeon Jungkook was undoubtedly a cocky asshole, 100% purebred douchebag.

“Um, no thanks” You frown, turning your back and returning to counter to help make the orders.

You can hear Hoseok laughing in the background as you try to ignore the stunned expression that’s probably plastered on Jungkook’s face right then. Serves him right for playing games. Why was he acting like this again?

When their orders are made, you watch the two of them leave the shop, with Jungkook glancing back at you almost apologetically, but you convince yourself that it’s just your imagination.

...

The rest of the afternoon passes as per usual, with customers coming and going. At one point you get a call from your parents, wondering how you were doing and reminding you to take time to de-stress and to not overwork yourself because it was something you had the tendency to do. You can tell by the tone of their voices that they’re still a bit disappointed that you decided to stay on campus over break, but you’re grateful they’ve always respected your decisions even if it went against their wishes.

By the time your shift was over later in the day, you were glad there were no more surprises awaiting you …or so you thought because just as you were leaving the café, you see a certain Jeon Jungkook leisurely leaning against the wall outside.

You elect to ignore his presence and walk ahead.

“Hey, Y/N, wait” You hear Jungkook call before running after you as you strolled past him.

“What do want, Jungkook? I don’t have time for this.” You ask in annoyance, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes and his fake apology that you can practically already hear.

“Listen, about what happened back there-“

“I have no interest in going out with you, so you can stop stalking me or whatever this is.” You interrupt sternly, knowing that if you agreed to his promiscuous antics you would end up being nothing but one of the million other nameless flower petals on his already crowded wall.

“I know it’s weird that I waited for you to get off work, but I just didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable if I had stayed in the shop…” He trails off.

Your walking comes to a halt as you register what he had just said. “You waited for me outside?” Your voice comes as a murmur. In temperatures this low?

“W-well, I mean, I did go to the dance studio with Hoseok for 2 hours before coming back here.” He scratches the back of his neck.

That’s still 3 hours of shivering in the snow. “You dance?” You query instead, attempting to lightened the mood.

Jungkook chuckles. “What you have a thing for dancers?”

You frown at his pick up line.

“S-sorry” He lowers his head once again. “I’m just, I-I..” You see his body waver slightly, and his failed attempt to steady himself before you take notice. You have a hunch that something’s not right, and upon reaching up and feeling his forehead you become aware that he’s burning up.

“Jungkook you have a fever” You voice alarmed.

...

The rest of what happens comes as a blur, namely Jungkook flashing you a faint smile before collapsing against your body. Luckily your apartment was much closer to the café you worked at than the university. You don’t know where Jungkook lives, if he lives alone, or if any of those things passed as an excuse to take him to your place, but you didn’t have time to weigh out your limited options meticulously, not when he’s literally crushing you with the weight of his body.

He at least manages to remain half conscious while you support him for the ten minutes it takes to walk to your apartment; cause god knows it would’ve been impossible for you to carry him there.

You struggle to pull out your keys from your purse and swing the door open, but once you do manage to drag him into your room and throw him on you bed, you stand there and stare at his limp body for a good 5 minutes as he lies on top of your fluffy duvet, fully dressed in winter apparel. Wait, is it better to take off his clothes? At least his coat right?

You get around to removing his Timberland boots, his coat, and his beanie only to find that his clothes underneath were damp. Shit, they’re still sweaty from him dancing. Why didn’t he take a shower and get changed before leaving the studio?

The questions continue forming in your head as you cursed under your breathe, trying to calm your nerves as you slowly remove his coat, sweatshirt, and eventually the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath.

Please don’t wake up and get the wrong idea…

Ugh, why am I acting like this is a crime? I’m just doing what needs to be done.

Stop it, Y/N, calm yourself. You’re making this a bigger deal than it actually is.

The internal monologue kept rolling as you stripped him down to his boxers, you blame it on your inherent habit of talking to yourself and overthinking. In a way it was a form of therapy, distracting your thoughts from the actions that your body was performing, and initially it worked, you had successfully convinced yourself that this was what any compassionate human being would do when presented with a sick person.

Nothing creepy or inappropriate or invasive.

But the minute your fingers come in contact with his heated skin-that was oh-so-freaking soft might you add, and your eyes landed on the gentle rising and fall of his chest as he breathes through marginally parted lips, you’re forced to swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth. And it didn’t help that Jungkook’s abs looked more delicious than the tastiest of chocolates and the series of well-defined muscles on his chest, shoulder, and arms were making your mind go places it should most certainly not be allowed to go. Fucking hell.

He really wasn’t kidding about working out.

You’re able to finally breathe again after the deed of undressing him is done and Jungkook is wrapped tightly in your blanket, which will now probably smell like him for god knows how long you put off washing your sheets. He sleeps for a good 4 hours, in which you take the time to make some porridge, wash and dry his clothes, and change the dampened cloth you had placed on his forehead a good twenty times. You’re staring at the soft features of his face just as the slow fluttering of his eyelids startles you as he wakes up.

“W-wha…w-where?” He begins to murmur, barely having the energy to raise his head off the pillow and lazily look around the room.

“You had a fever and passed out” You begin explaining, feeling a bit tired after going through such a physically- and mentally exhausting event. “I brought you here because it was the closest place-er, because I didn’t know what else to do…” You trail off, waiting for him to respond.

His pupils land on you and the moment they do, the most relaxing of smiles washes over his expression.

“Thanks” He half whispers.

“I just did what needed to be done.” You voice the same words you had said to yourself a couple of hours ago.

There’s a momentary pause as Jungkook slowly sits up, only to find that he was naked under the blanket. His surprised expression is quickly replaced by a coy smile as licks his lips and clears his throat. “I see you’ve washed my clothes.” He says, eyeing the folded laundry placed at the foot of the bed with a playful tone in his voice.

“Oh…yeah…” You voice hitches a little as a powerful heat radiates to your cheeks. Of course he would notice right away. “I also made some porridge.” You quickly add, changing the subject and rushing towards the kitchen so he wouldn’t catch how embarrassed you were.

Jungkook laughs silently as he watches you dash off.

You could tell he was feeling much better as you watched him eat, seeing the color returning to his lips and checking that his body temperature had gone down.

“So about the way I acted back at the coffee shop…” Jungkook begins as he swallows the porridge and lets out a long exhale. “I didn’t mean to come off so-“

“Arrogant? Cocky?” You don’t know why you were interrupting him, but the words kind of just took matters into their own hands before your brain filter could give them a pass or fail.

He sighs. “Yeah. I’m just bad at this.” He hangs his head a little, avoiding direct eye contact as he stirs the contents in his bowl.

“So let me get this straight, you’re telling me you aren’t the smooth-talking player everyone thinks you are?” You half scoff, knowing this is probably just one of his little tricks to come off as innocent. You had seen the real him, or what you had thought to be the real him at least.

“Would you believe me if I told you that’s actually a result of practice?”

You raise your eyebrow. “Practice?”

“I’m not as smooth as everyone thinks,” He admits.

“Oh really?” You cock another brow.

“I thought it was obvious to you.”

You have a minor flashback to the time you had first questioned his social skills back when he almost ran you over the sidewalk a week ago. “Yeah, I’m just still trying to figure out who you really are. I mean, I obviously don’t really know you yet. ”

“To be honest no one really does…” He trails off, looking down at his hands.

“Not even your friends, or multiple girlfriends or whatever they are to you?”

“I see you’re a fan of monogamy.” He comments, avoiding having to answer your prior question.

“Yeah, you can put it that way.”

He laughs a little, shaking his head, and you think you can sense the look of disappointment that flashes across his features.

“Do you ever take into consideration how your soulmate would feel?” Your jaw clenches after the sentence escapes your lips. You don’t know why were you bringing this topic up, especially when you of all people should not have the right to talk about soulmates.

“Soulmates.” Jungkook scoffs, turning his head to face away from you.

“I’m assuming you haven’t found him or her yet, but when you do-“

“Look can we not talk about this?” Jungkook cuts in, voice interlaced with a bit of annoyance and perhaps even anger if you weren’t mistaken.

You flinch a little, an action that he notices and immediately regrets snapping at you.

“I’m sorry.” His face softens as he turns back to you with apologetic puppy eyes.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t be telling you how to live your life anyways.” You didn’t know what had possessed you to bring such a sensitive topic up. You and Jungkook barely knew each other and you were already getting into his personal business. Way to go, Y/N. You mentally scold yourself for getting carried away.

“It’s just…I’m not a fan of the whole soulmate thing.” He mutters, taking another bite of porridge.

Of course, that should’ve been obvious enough.

“To be honest, I’m not either.” You admit. “I just…I don’t know. Forget I even brought it up.”

…

Winter break ended faster than you had anticipated, much to your powerless disappointment. It was a few days after the New Year had begun and classes were starting the very next Monday that you became conscious of just how swiftly time passes. You can’t say you were looking forward to going back to school, but at least you had a couple of classes you were looking forward to this semester.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, you didn’t see Jungkook after that fever incident when he thanked you one last time before leaving your apartment with clothes smelling like your laundry detergent. He had complimented the scent, but with someone as “bipolar” – the word you decided to refer to his multiple personalities as, as Jungkook, you couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or just fake nice. It had just become another addition to the hoard of other questions you had about him. Did he really want to be your friend or was he just trying to get in your pants? Was he a douche or was he some shy kid under the guise of an expert player? You didn’t know what to think or which side of him to trust, but you figured it didn’t matter because you wouldn’t have to see him again anyways.

But oh how wrong you were yet again.

Taehyung and Jimin come back from break the weekend before classes start, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss their bright and bubbly personalities lighting up your days. And of course the first thing they want to do to kick off the semester is go watch the new Avengers movie, it’s so predictable of them but that doesn’t keep you from acting exasperated at their “lame” suggestion.

“Really now? The new Avengers movie?” You cross your arms, looking back and forth from Taehyung to Jimin.

“You know we’re huge fans” Taehyung flashes you a boxy smile. “Oh come on, Y/N, we know you are too~.”

You roll your eyes, pretending like you were being forced to something you would’ve agreed to anyways.

Jimin giggles, slapping Taehyung playfully on the shoulder, and you’re almost tempted to make a gagging motion.

“It’ll be the 3 of us, just like old times.” Taehyung chirps.

You can’t help the smile that forms on your face at Taehyung’s words, but when your eyes trace over to Jimin you notice a look of guilt wash over his features.

“What’s the matter Chim?” You query concerned.

“So I may or may not have invited….ummm, ugh…J-Jungkook” He cringes as if he was about to receive a smack in the face.

“You what!?” Taehyung gasps.

Jimin laughs nervously, preparing to use his crescent shaped eye smile to get Taehyung to forgive him. “He recently agreed to be a part of a three member dance crew with me and Hoseok. Completing our dream of entering the spring dance competition. You know how long Hoseok and I have wanted this, don't you?” Jimin explains quickly, voice full of desperation.

Taehyung practically rolls his eyes 360 degrees. “And that my friend, is how the mouse gets caught in the cheese trap.” He shakes his head and turns to you for a look of confirmation.

“Wait, you guys all know each other?” You accuse with a sharp finger pointing from Jimin to Taehyung and back to Jimin, finally putting the pieces together.

“About that…” Taehyung begins. “We used to hang out at parties and stuff all the time, until Hoseok met Yoongi, and Seokjin met Namjoon, leaving only Jungkook who decided to go solo after that.”

“And it’s always been me and Hoseok’s dream to form a dance team with Jungkook called the 3J’s, but ever since he left the group and started dating a bunch of random girls, we kind of fell apart.” Jimin adds.

You swallow, finally viewing the picture in its entirety. “Hoseok and Yoongi, Seokjin and Namjoon, they’re all soulmates….” There it was again, the word you just seem to be unable to avoid. Taehyung and Jimin nod simultaneously, flashing you a sympathetic look.

“And I know it seems like I’m just letting go of the grudge I held against him because he agreed to join us again, but he seems different lately.” Jimin continues, inciting a skeptical look from both you and Taehyung, but there’s was nothing you could do now that Jimin’s already made up his mind.

“So you only invited him, right?” Taehyung inquires, just making sure there’re aren’t any more surprises.

“Jungkook and his plus one.” Jimin corrects, the statement making your heart fall to the pit of your stomach for reasons you claim are unknown to yourself. You knew he wouldn’t butt in on Taehyung and Jimin’s movie date without bringing an actual date himself, and yet you where somehow clutching on to the idea that maybe he take a break from being in fleeting relationships akin to that of fuck buddies.

“Oh come on Tae, you know Jungkook is rarely seen without at least one girl attached to his hip.” Jimin says. “He’s not the innocent child we knew before.”

“Ok guys, it’s fine.” You cut in. “Being the 5th wheel isn’t all that different from being the 3rd anyways.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but neither Jimin nor Taehyung laughs; they just throw you that sympathetic look you’ve gotten way to use to seeing.

The three of you wait for Jungkook- and whichever girl he was probably screwing now, at the Student Union so the five of you can walk to the city from there. You were listening to Taehyung and Jimin talk about how their break was, how their families are doing, and their plans for this summer (yeah already, and the semester technically hasn’t even started yet). Taehyung was in the middle of suggesting you guys go on a road trip/camping with the crew when he abruptly stops as you hear the footsteps of someone approach.

You turn to see who you suspected it was.

“Hey” Jungkook’s familiar voice cuts through the sounds of the other students in the background, making you tense up as you were reminded of the other times you’ve heard that voice.

He was dressed very casually, wearing a beanie to cover his hair except the bangs that lay flat against his forehead. There was something odd about his demeanor or what you couldn’t really place a finger on…until you realized…

He’s alone.

“So, uhh, where’s Rose?” Jimin asks, looking around and behind Jungkook to see if there was anyone there.

“She canceled,” He says, short, detached, and unbothered in the slightest.

“And you couldn’t find a replacement?” Taehyung raises his eyebrows disbelievingly.

“It was last minute.” Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your muted gazes.

“Ok, then are we ready to go?” Jimin gets up from his seat and flashes everyone a cheerful grin.

The fact that you haven't seen or spoken to Jungkook since you stripped him down naked and tended to his fever and the fact that Jungkook is clearly trying not to acknowledge your presence now doesn’t really sit well with you. If he’s going to be back to being buddies with Taehyung and Jimin, you’re going to have to force yourself to be on good terms with the guy.

You eye him suspiciously as he diverts his attention to the direction of the movie theater five blocks down. Jimin and Taehyung walk in front of the two of you, giggling in hushed whispers, pointing at the interesting objects displayed in the shop windows, forgetting that you and Jungkook were trailing awkwardly behind.

Somewhere in the space between skyscrapers and the muffled hum of car engines, you feel Jungkook’s hand brush against yours. It’s a light touch, the flutter of a feather drifting in the air, but it sends a tingle shooting up your arm and you swallow the saliva that has built up in your mouth.

You hear Jungkook clear his throat, and it was as if there were words bubbling up to his throat but ended up getting swallowing before they could be voiced.

The crowd of people was becoming denser as you neared the busier part of the city, it was hard not to be bumped by some random shoulder, or be squished closer and closer to Jungkook who was walking next to you. Taehyung and Jimin were far ahead now, and you could barely see the top of their head through the swarm of bodies.

“Um, is it ok if I hold your hand?” Jungkook murmurs, barely loud enough for you to hear.

You turn to see that he’s looking at you, waiting for you to either accept or reject him. You’re pretty sure your expression is reflecting how unprepared you were to face such a sudden request, and you’d be lying if you said that was an easy question to answer whether you said yes or no.

“Uh, you know, so we don’t get separated?” He adds in a significantly less confident tone.

You ponder over his statement again, wanting to dissect the expression on his own face so you could figure out what his motives are, but the innocent look in his eyes compels you to nod before your mind could stop yourself.

At your signal, he tentatively reaches over and takes your hand, unable to even make eye contact as he performs the deed because he was so nervous. Jungkook’s hand is surprisingly delicate and soft. You’re not exactly sure what you were expecting because you had never taken the time to imagine what his hands would feel like, but it’s much warmer than yours. And you’re sure he’s taking note of how cold your hand is because he proceeds to stuff your intertwined hands into his coat pocket. He doesn’t look at you for the remainder of the walk to the movie theater, but you can feel his fingers move, and tenderly rub your frozen digits in an attempt to warm them up. His firm grip is strong yet gentle, like he was afraid to hurt you but also didn’t ever want to let go.

You would also be lying if you said walking hand in hand with Jungkook for the first time didn’t feel strange, but it’d be a bigger lie to say you didn’t enjoy feeling so protected and safe for once in your life.

You’re so caught up in your dreamy thoughts that you don’t notice the bump in the sidewalk that you conveniently decide to trip on in that moment. It sends you tumbling forward, but Jungkook catches you just in time, right before you can fall face flat on the hard cement.

“You ok?” Jungkook turns to you with concern while he supports your upper body.

“Yeah, haha.” You try to laugh it off, but it sounds more forced than you intended. “I do that all the time.”

He chuckles silently, relaxing a little for the first time this evening. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here then.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your mind blanks for a millisecond.

“I-I mean, you know, keeping you from falling and stuff.” He quickly adds, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“T-Thanks” You murmur softly, trying to avoid looking at his flushing face. You hope that he can’t sense your own nervousness and the churning of butterflies in your stomach, because you know exactly why that feeling is there and you most certainly do not want to address it.

You can feel his hand still moving as the two of you continue to walk, gripping and releasing like he was gently kneading your hand, contemplating how to start a conversation that would loosen the tense atmosphere hovering over the two of you.

“So, uh, I know you’re not interested in going out with me, but if you ever need someone when you’re with Taehyung and Jimin, I’ll be happy to get you out of that 3rd wheel situation.” He suddenly says when the two of you were reaching the theater entrance.

You wonder if that’s the real reason he came today.

“Jungkook, look, I don’t want to complicate things between us-”

“I understand.” He interrupts before you can finish. “It’s just, I’ve been in that sort of position, and I really hated that feeling of tagging along as an extra. Please don’t think this is just me trying to get in your pants or anything or being fake to get you to do something you don’t want to. I-I just want to help, and I totally get the not wanting to make it awkward between us since our friend groups overlap, and you know, it’s just, ugh, I’m just so bad at this.” He lets out a long exhale knowing that he was ranting again, that habit of his when he gets hit with social anxiety and hasn’t planned a whole speech out to come off cool and composed.

You bite your lip, wanting to let him know what you were truly thinking. Even though his thoughts came out jumbled, you get what he’s saying and you’re shocked at how accurately he hit the spot. It was true. As much as you liked being alone, you did hate that feeling of being out of place when Jimin and Taehyung dragged you along to their “dates”, you have been in situations when you wished someone who just come and take your hand and tell you they’ll be there when you don’t want to be alone. And you finally realized why you were secretly so happy when Jungkook had come without a date. But you don’t get the chance to respond because the heat of the theater lobby was greeting you, and your first instinct is to quickly slip your hand out of Jungkook’s pocket before Jimin and Taehyung turn to wave you guys over.

“We got the tickets!” Taehyung announces.

“Hope you guys don’t mind sitting closer to the back.” Jimin adds. “We probably should’ve reserved seats because this place is packed.”

You shrug. “Fine with me.”

You quickly follow behind Jimin and Taehyung, trying to put off the thought of responding to Jungkook’s offer. You’re immensely thankful that the lighting in theater is dim because it was acting as a blanket to cover all of the untended issues you were choosing to run away from.

“Oh yeah, and our seats are not in the same row.” Taehyung whispers. “Umm, do you want to sit with me and Jimin with Jungkook or I could sit with Jungkook and-“

“Tae, you go ahead and sit with Jimin” You interrupt, knowing that he was just trying to be polite and was probably feeling bad about leaving you with Jungkook.

“You sure?” He says, looking up to eye Jungkook who was pretending he couldn’t hear the conversation.

You nod in confirmation.

…

Seokjin and Namjoon may not seem like a classic soulmate pairing to the untrained eye, but you’ve known the two of them long enough to recognize complementarity at its finest. Kim Seokjin is maternal, protective, and caring, while Kim Namjoon is a genius-born leader and total klutz hybrid.

Seokjin is a complete jokester, always has been, and anyone who wasn’t familiar with his eccentric personality would think Namjoon was the older one in the relationship. But oh how wrong they would be, because despite always emphasizing his age with anyone younger than him, Seokjin has always treated Namjoon as his equal, if not superior. And everyone knew they were meant to be the moment he refrained himself from jumping out of his pants when Namjoon accidentally addressed him informally. It was actually quite a life defining moment.

They now live comfortably in a newly constructed apartment complex downtown, and have invited you, Jimin, and Taehyung over for “afternoon tea”. It honestly did not make any sense to you, but it had something to do with Seokjin wanting to test out the housewife life just for kicks before heading off to grad school.

“I don’t get why Y/N and Jungkook can’t just get together.” Seokjin blurts out, making you jolt at the sound of your name and Jungkook’s being used in the same sentence.

The five of you were currently gathered in their cleanly organized living room, enjoying freshly brewed tea and baked goods courtesy of none other than Kim Seokjin.

“You know that’s not how it works,” Namjoon reminds him, before you can come up with a similar retort.

“He clearly doesn’t care about staying faithful to his soulmate.” Seokjin sighs. “He’s too feisty. I blame it on his competitive nature. I told him to wait for the time to come, but that boy has no patience.”

“Hyung, I think it’s better not to talk about that when, you know” Taehyung gestures to you not-so-subtly.

“Oh sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to-“

“Guys, how many times do I have to say that I’m over it?” You try and convince them that you’re fine with not knowing your soulmate and they don’t have to act like they’re walking on needles when they bring up the topic in front of you.

“Who is Jungkook’s soulmate anyways? Has he told you guys their name?” Jimin suddenly asks.

“I thought he told you guys.” Seokjin responds raising both his eyebrows. “He’s never bothered to tell us.”

“He hasn’t told any of us?” Taehyung gasps.

“Let the boy have his privacy.” Namjoon butts in. “I’m sure we’ll all know once that person shows up.”

There’s a moment of prolonged pause before Namjoon suddenly speaks again.

“So, Y/N, not to be nosy or anything, but what exactly happened to your, ugh, soulmate?”

“Oh right, I haven’t told you yet” You respond, realizing Namjoon has no idea about the line tattooed on your wrist. He probably thought you just hadn’t met them yet. “My soulmates name didn’t really show up when I was eighteen.”

He throws you a startled look. “Like there’s nothing there?”

You roll up your sleeve and show him the faint marking that had already grown almost invisible.

“Ahh, the infamous horizontal line.”

Your eyes widen. “You’ve seen this before?”

He chuckles lightly. “Not until now.” He admits, gesturing at your wrist. “But I’ve heard about how some people don’t get names but different markings instead.” He shakes his head. “They are very rare, and there’s still a lot that is unknown about what they mean, but I found an old book at a library once that explained some of the markings that have shown up throughout history.”

You ears perk up. “Did it say anything about what a line means?” You feel your heart beat quicken as you wait for the older male to respond.

“Well…” He begins, rubbing his hands together and preparing his pending monologue. “It talked about a couple of the more common markings. Like for example, an X meaning your soulmate has died before you met them, a circle for soulmates who will not meet in this life but another, and a triangle for people who have soulmates that have someone else’s name on their wrist and not theirs….” He sighs. “As for a line like yours….”

You lean in closer because his voice suddenly grew soft.

“…the book said that it was the rarest of all the symbols that have been studied so far.” He pauses again. “It means… you don’t have a soulmate.” The last sentence almost comes out inaudible, and you aren’t quite sure if it’s because Namjoon’s voice was so hushed or because your eardrums feel like they were suddenly plunged underwater.

And maybe it was just because you were still clutching onto that nonexistent sliver of hope that a name would eventually appear, or that your soulmate would have the same marking as you and it would mean you found them, but all of that vanished with Namjoon’s words. The other markings are undoubtedly tragic, heartbreakingly so, but in some twisted way that could even come off as romantic depending on how one chose to view it, like those famous tales of star-crossed lovers or sad endings that are so meaningful because of the beautiful love that once was or could have been. But none of that was applicable in your case. It’s like you were torn away from all of that, not even privileged enough to feel the kind of gnawing pain that unforgettable or unrequited love leaves behind because what you are faced with is not even the thought of that red string of fate being cut or disappearing because now you’ve come to the realization that it never even existed in the first place.

You will always be reaching for something that is not there and never will be.

“Y/N, are you ok?” The voice of Jimin cuts through your isolated thoughts.

Breaking away from your reverie, you don’t have a choice but to force yourself back into reality and tell him you’re fine. Because truthfully, you are, and although it may seem unfair at times, you have already come to terms with your destiny, so knowing the meaning behind the rare marking on your wrist should not change that aforementioned acceptance.

...right?

…

On the Monday that classes officially begin, you run into Jungkook again.

You were starting to think your frequent run-ins with the younger male are too odd to be simple coincidences, but then you realize this was strictly only the second (or third?) time it’s been unplanned. But if that wasn’t enough evidence, the way he tries to pretend he hasn’t seen you and attempts to play it off as if the two of you were complete strangers tells you that he was not expecting to see your face among the crowd of swarming students. You watch in amusement as he looks everywhere but in the direction of you, even trying to use his scarf to cover his face.

“Jungkook!”

His eyes widen at the sound of your voice calling his name.

“I swear I’m not a stalker” is the first thing he blurts out of his mouth.

You giggle at how endearing he looks as he waits for you to charge him with a felony. “It’s fine. Coincidence, right?”

“Y-yeah, cause you know, I was walking to class and then… you… and I-I…yeah.” He smiles shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

You smile before looking down at your phone and notice that your first lecture starts in less than 5 minutes. “Well, I better get going. Don’t want to be late!” You turn to leave, but notice that he’s not making a motion to do the same. Instead, he’s just standing there, looking around like he didn’t have a class to catch.

“Ok, don’t tell me it’s because you don’t want to walk the same way again.” You look at him mischievously, crossing your arms and patiently waiting for his response.

“Would you believe me if I said it is?” He almost sounds timid, like he was afraid you were going to get angry with him for being annoying or bothersome.

“Unbelievable.” You sigh, shaking your head but unable to contain the grin that peeks through your incredulous expression. “What class are you headed to?”

“Zoology”

Your jaw drops. “No way.”

Jungkook looks at you confused.

“Me too.” You cannot believe this is actually happening. “But why are taking Zoology!?” You ask the question as if it’s something he shouldn’t be doing when in fact it should be the other way around, but you were in too much of a shock to think clearly.

Jungkook cocks a brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking why you’re taking a freshman class?”

You can feel your face heat up. “I-I” Why the hell were you getting nervous now? “I put off finishing the my last life sciences requirement, and I didn’t want to take human anatomy and physiology because those are two separate courses.”

“Makes sense” Jungkook bobs his head in understanding, not wording another question as the two of you scramble into the lecture hall just in the nick of time.

...

It becomes something of the norm, a routine if you will, for the next few weeks verging on months. Namely you and Jungkook showing up at 8am lecture occasionally together, other times separately. Often times he gets there before you, and less frequently, you get there before him, but whatever the case you make it a habit to try and bring two cups of coffee when you get the chance to stop by the cafe so neither of you end up falling asleep half way through. He says he’s not a morning person, but he always seems to arrive in class earlier than you on most days, saving you a seat next to him with his backpack that he removes upon your entrance.

You have to admit that in the beginning it was still a bit awkward, to see him every other day, bright and early in the morning, especially on the days you hit the snooze button one to many times and have to skip putting on makeup. You swear Jungkook is pretending when he acts like he doesn’t notice your dark eye bags and far from flawless skin, but you know he does and just chooses not to address why you look like you just rolled out of bed (or got ran over by a semi).

“Oh my god. I thought I was going to be late!” You huff as you settle down in the seat next to him.

“You know you could’ve just copied my notes right?” He grins, sliding over a pen and a sheet of blank paper he tears out of his notebook because he already knows you forgot in your frenzy to get to class.

“True” You respond casually, taking the stationary from him with gratitude. “But it’s not the same.”

It really isn’t, but that’s not genuinely the reason you not only haven’t skipped lecture all semester but have also consistently been on time, even in an impossible crunch. And as reluctant as you are to admit it, you secretly know you’re going because you know he’s going to be there waiting for you. Because let’s be real, you’ve skipped your fair share of classes in the past 3 years, and Zoology would not have been an exception had it not been for a certain Jeon Jungkook. You got used to counting on the fact that seeing him would put you in a good mood for the rest of the day, and you’re almost sure he’d be at least slightly disappointed if you didn’t show up one day. That kind of disappointment is not something you want to be held responsible for, not when his smiles makes his eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart feel all warm and fuzzy.

So despite thinking it was maybe a bad idea to put off a freshman course until your junior year, you soon come to realize you’re more than grateful you did because you also don’t think you would’ve survived through dissections without Jungkook as your lab partner.

“That freaking grasshopper was scary as fuck.” You comment as the two of you walk out of lab for the umpteenth time.

Jungkook laughs, making that signature cackling noise you’ve come to recognize from a mile away. “It was dead though.” He points out.

“My statement holds.” You shiver at the thought of how large it was, and how terrifying it looked when you were dissecting it. You hated bugs with a passion, and it didn’t matter that it was a lifeless black corpse, prior green color completely drained from being soaked in embalming fluid for god knows how long. “And it smelled horrible.”

“Not as bad as that dead bird.” Jungkook wrinkles his nose cutely.

“I think that’s only because the formaldehyde didn’t penetrate deep enough into the breast tissue. It smelled rotten.” You think back to how foul the specimen smelled, and mimic Jungkook’s nose scrunch.

“Still. I’ll never look at chicken the same way again.”

...

The first half of the semester passes by at half the speed of light. You and Jungkook see each other in class and lab three days a week and occasionally on the weekends when you have to study for an exam. He’s boyish and funny, and you learn that he’s also really competitive because he goes out of his way to memorize entire taxonomies just to beat you in study games.

“How did you get another hundred?!” You stare, wide-eyed and dumbfounded at his test score. “Unbelievable.” You can’t even ignore the hint of jealousy that’s nipping at your belly.

He shrugs pretending like he did know it was because of his competitive nature and your suggestion to make studying a game of sorts.

“And you’re not even going to thank me?” You inquire, crossing your arms and waiting to hear a declaration of gratitude from him.

“For what?” He tilts his head innocently, still playing the oblivious bystander.

You frown. “Stop pretending like you would’ve set the curve had it not been for the game I came up with.”

There’s a pause as he pretends to ponder over the statement. “You’re right” He smirks. “I wouldn’t have. Thank you…Noona.”

His emphasis on that last word makes you blush like crazy, sinking down into your scarf to hide the blossoming roses. Did he seriously just?!

Sometimes you forget that you’re still older than him because he constantly makes it a point to act like age doesn’t matter. But it’s always when you least expect it, that he chooses just the right words to make your heart pound faster than it should. The audacity.

“Well, I’m off to my next class! ” You inform abruptly.

Jungkook smiles as you hastily turn away, acting like you were going to be late, when you knew that he knew it didn’t start until the next hour. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He yells across the widening distance between the two of you.

“Yup!” You shout back as you almost half sprint through the lawn.

In all honesty, you didn’t think a lame class like Zoology would end up being your favorite class of the semester, in fact, you were actually expecting to hate it with a passion, but something about getting to joke around with Jungkook put a smile on your face on those mornings when it was hard to get out of bed, and that’s more than you could’ve asked for.

…

A couple of days before Spring Break, Yoongi invites everyone to his “annual celebration”. It’s essentially just a small get together that he hosts at his parents’ mansion while they are out of town, so it’s not anything wild, particularly since Yoongi’s parents are a bit anal about keeping the place spotless and Yoongi himself is not a fan of big parties.

This is the first year you’ve been invited, or more accurately Taehyung and Jimin invited you because you don’t actually know Yoongi all that well, but friends of friends are usually forced to get along. That said, you’re not actually going because the they dragged you along for once. You’re going because Jungkook had asked you to go with him a few days before the inseparable pair even brought it up.

It went down something like:

“S-so uhh, a friend of mine…uh, Yoongi, is having this p-party…and I w-was wonder if maybe you want to…?”

“Go with you?” You finish the sentence for him, not even bothering to hide the amused smile that stretches across your face.

The way he still gets choked up by his nerves has always been charming in it’s own unique way, especially when contrasted to the manner you’ve witnessed him joke about anything and everything at this point. So of course you agree, forgetting about the astonished looks on all of your friends’ faces when you walk in to Yoongi’s house with Jeon Jungkook at your side.

Yoongi’s expression isn’t all that different from the way he looks bored 99% of the time. You’ve only been acquainted with the guy on a couple of rare occasions, but according to Jimin, he has quite the natural poker face.

Seokjin and Namjoon have somewhat of a pair of knowing smiles plastered on their faces, and you’re first thought is, you don’t want them to get the wrong idea. You know exactly what they are thinking, and you didn’t want them to jump to any conclusions.

Hoseok’s face is perhaps the most startled. His mouth forms a perfect “o” as his pupils dart from you to Jungkook and back to you.

“Jungkookie!” He suddenly shouts as he snaps out of his trance and runs up to the two of you still standing in the door way. He flings an arm around Yoongi who was still holding the door open as you and Jungkook proceed to remove your shoes at the entrance.

“Hyung!” Jungkook greets with a nod as the older male pats him on the shoulder.

“And this…is Y/N, right?” You look up and notice that Hoseok is now looking at you with a smile brighter than the sun. You’re slightly pleased that he still remembers you from the coffee shop incident a couple months ago.

You nod, returning a smile of your own.

He points at Jungkook and then back at you. “Are you guys finally…?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it.

“We’re just in the same class this semester.” Even as you hear your own response, you can’t believe it flew out of your mouth so quickly. You see Jungkook’s face drop ever so slightly from the corner of your eye, and something in your chest clenches.

You don’t really know what you and Jungkook are because you’re obviously not together in the traditional sense. You’re just friends…classmates…lab partners…or maybe more, you don’t really know. You do, however, know that you don’t want to set yourself up for getting hurt, and if that means being suspended in this ambiguous state with Jungkook, then maybe it’s better to keep it that way.

It’d be a lie to say you never thought about being more than friends, but it’s only a fleeting thought you sweep to the back of your mind whenever you’re reminded of that sting on your wrist. Seldom do you ponder over the idea of being more than friends with anyone, especially not when you know it’ll only be a fling for them before they find their destined soulmate, and you are definitely not one to go against the laws of the universe.

“I see” Hoseok nods in mild disappointment.

“Well, help yourselves to drinks and snacks” Yoongi cuts in. You had almost forgotten he was still there because he had been silent for so long.

“Guys let’s sing!” Taehyung suddenly pipes up.

“Oh god” You hear Namjoon groan in the background, but it doesn’t stop Taehyung and Jimin from giggling like little kids as they hurriedly set up the karaoke system.

It was not a surprise that they would end up being on a team. You’ve always known they were naturally talented singers, and you’ve witnessed their angelic voices first ear on more occasions than one. They know they’re good, so of course they end up going first and getting a solid 95%.

“You guys do this just to make us look bad right?” Yoongi sighs as he takes the mic Jimin conveniently hands him with a playful smile.

“No problem. We’ve got this.” Hoseok loosens his shoulders confidently and smirks. For the few seconds before the duet open their mouths, you’re almost led to believe they might give the reigning champions a run for their money. That is, until the song actually begins and you’re almost tempted to cover your ears.

It’s safe to say Hoseok and Yoongi don’t even try to stay on key. They’re hitting all the wrong notes, and they howl at the top of their lungs as if singing louder will hide their cracking voices.

“You’re turn” Hoseok says to Namjoon as the song ends.

“And don’t even try to let Seokjin do all the singing.” Yoongi adds.

Namjoon starts three pitches lower than he actually should, and suddenly goes up three pitches higher. It makes you wonder if he’s just doing it on purpose or if he’s just vocally challenged. Seokjin, however, has one of the most soothing voices you’ve ever heard, but you’re not allowed to enjoy it for long before it’s you and Jungkook’s turn.

You’re nervous to say the least, but Jungkook flashes you a reassuring smile that quells your anxiety. You’ve never been told you were a bad singer, but you weren’t amazing either and certainly nowhere near the level of Taehyung and Jimin.

When the song begins you start out softly, almost at an inaudible volume due to the fear of singing on the wrong key or messing up the lyrics, but you hear a voice so clear and calming, twirling along the melody like colorful ribbons, that you question if they accidentally forgot to turn off the original singer’s voice. You glance around but detect that no one is making a move to correct what you assumed to be a mistake, and then it hits you that it’s Jungkook. You’re so at loss for words that you’ve stopped singing completely, slowly turning your head to look at the male sitting next to you in awe. His eyes were closed, and he was fully immersed in the song like a lonely man serenading his lover. You’re mouth hangs slightly ajar, and you barely comprehend the ending of the song when his eyes flutter open to meet yours.

“As expected” Jimin sighs at the perfect score flashing on the screen.

Jungkook clears his throat and diverts his eyes the same time you do.

“Well, I kind of stopped singing like 10 seconds into the song.” You admit embarrassingly, even though it was probably obvious to everyone in the room.

“It’s ok, Y/N, it’s just for fun anyways.” Taehyung hops up to grab the mic from Jungkook. “Who’s ready for round 2?”

A series of reluctant groans is heard from Yoongi and Hoseok before Namjoon comes up with a negotiation.

“Let us rap and you’ve got a deal,” Namjoon requests, to which Taehyung and Jimin both permit, decreeing it “only fair in the spirit of the game”.

...

A couple hours later, every one is either passed out on the couch or still drunkenly singing. Yoongi’s house is more spacious than you had imagined, so you decide to have a look around and grab a breath of fresh air. One of the guest bedrooms has a nice balcony overlooking the mountainside, so you decide to do some stargazing or viewing of the enthralling cityscape in the distance. It’s the perfect setting for you to contemplate life the way you always do when you’re feeling that need for solitude.

It was a clear night, the moon was hanging on the dark indigo canvas, looming over the treetops that are partially covering the miniature skyscrapers as seen from afar. The breeze is a bit chilly, but not unbearable and the muted sounds of the night are serene and sedative.

Just as you were watching a dark cloud drift across the starry expanse, you hear a faint click and the opening of the sliding door behind you.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” Jungkook’s voice is apologetic and soft.

“It’s ok, I just thought I’d get some fresh air.” You smile, hoping that the moonlight is bright enough for him to see that you’re not bothered by his interruption in the slightest.

He nods before sluggishly turning to leave.

“Jungkook, wait” You stop him before he steps back inside. “Do you want to talk for a bit?”

A surprised expression sweeps across his face, but just as quickly as it appeared it’s washed away as he approaches you with a relieved smile.

“Things were getting pretty crazy back there.” Jungkook chuckles weakly, trying to lighten up the stuffy atmosphere hovering over the two of you. “They’re all passed out now.”

“Yeah, I had no idea Karaoke could be that intense.”

“Haha, yea. Today was actually tame compared to some other instances.”

You grin, thinking about how hilarious Yoongi, Hoseok, and Namjoon were. “You’re really good at singing.” You comment, not meeting his eye but somehow able to see how wide they’re probably opened right now.

“T-thanks” He clears his throat and swallows. “I’ve always loved singing. I practiced only when I was alone, which used to be all the time, so I guess that explains why I got good at it. ”

“Did you ever feel lonely?” It was more of a test rather than a question. You just wanted to hear his opinion on the matter, the one topic you seem to ponder over all the damn time whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. And it somehow always ends up resulting in you convincing yourself that you’re not lonely at all, and that you simply enjoy being alone.

You still believe it’s indisputably true.

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away, taking the time to really think about your rather impulsive inquiry. He turns his attention to you, and you really don’t have a choice but to maintain eye contact because you had initiated the question and he was relaying an answer.

“Sometimes I feel like I can have all the people in the world and still feel lonely.”

Your breathing slows to a stand still.

“And it’s those times when I’m alone that I feel like I’m with the perfect amount of company. It’s like I can only win by battling lonely with lonely. ” He chuckles. “Ugh, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.” He drops his gaze, and if it weren’t for the darkness you would probably be able to see the color drenching his features.

You cautiously take a few steps forward, making sure not to startle him. “How do you feel now?”

You can see his lip part as he looks back up at you who is now only inches away from his face. Lifting a tentative hand, you reach up to cup his soft cheek, feeling the warmth of his tender skin in the center of your palm. It’s the first time you’ve examined him from such proximity, the curvature of his nose, the slight pout of his lip, and his eyes- a pair of crystal clear orbs that are shimmering under the moonlight, glittering with the light of a thousand stars.

Moving forward, you can sense his hesitation, but he doesn’t inch back. Instead he leans in closer, lifting his own hand to grab your wrist and pull you towards him until your bodies were almost in contact.

And then his lips are melting onto yours.

Your eyes are closed but you can feel him. You can feel the way he releases his grip of your wrist as he uses both hands to caress your face. Your own hold on his cheek is broken as you lose yourself to the sensation of his soothing lips enveloping yours, motions slowly paced with a trained patience that tells you he’s still afraid. Initially, it’s frustratingly delicate, the way he holds back as if you would suddenly pull away if he were too urgent- too forceful, but gradually the momentum picks up and the swirling ways of his tongue incites you to press your body against his, erasing any thought of turning back, like an object hitting escape velocity setting off on its way to the end of the universe.

He supports you against the sliding glass door as he continues to drink you in; hands clasped around your hips as you hastily reach backwards and slide the door open so the both of you can stumble back inside. You fall onto the bed, gasping for air as he cages you underneath him.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispers in between breaths as he searches for the answer in your eyes.

“Positive” You answer with a confidence you weren’t aware you had, but you were ready to finally give in to that desire buried deep within your heart, the one you’ve ignored all this time because you too, were afraid.

He nods gently before connecting his lips with yours once more, working his way down your neck and igniting a flame in your stomach. His hands begin roaming parts of your body that you didn’t think he had the guts to explore, and it makes you question if he’s just as nervous as you are or if you were perhaps analyzing this situation more than you should. Your thoughts are racing as he tugs your pants down, coming back up after he does and taking your lips into his once more. You falteringly start to unbutton his shirt, but it so painstakingly sloppy that he lifts a hand to stop you after only two buttons, pausing to stand up and throw it off completely instead. You can feel your readiness increase as you eye his toned torso, the one you’ve had unspeakable thoughts of since the day you tended to his fever.

His eyes trace along your own bare figure, laid on the bed with no protective barrier, nothing to hide any of your self-proclaimed flaws, and that’s when you’re hit with an instant of vulnerability right before he leans back on top of you. He dips his hand under your panties, an action that causes you to emit a loud gasp and quickly stretch down to halt him, clutching on his arm a little tighter than you intended.

He freezes in place. “Do you want to stop?” He questions in concern, searching for a signal within your eyes.

You shake your head. “Sorry, I panicked.” You murmur, feeling even more heat rise to your face.

He flashes you a faint half smile, giving you a light nod as he proceeds to carefully slide two fingers between your already moistened folds. He plunges them in and out, wiggling in fluid motions, and using his thumb to rub your clitoris in small circular drawings, sensually spreading the fluid that is being released by your arousal. You feel the knot in your lower abdomen tighten, and it’s only emphasized by Jungkook’s own stifled breathing as he continues to dust tiny kisses down your neck to your exposed chest.

“J-Jungkook” You moan rather timidly as he stops to look back up at your pleading eyes. It was embarrassing to admit it, but you couldn’t wait much longer. You needed to feel more of him inside of you. You wanted him to fill that physical hollowness, even if it was only going to be temporary.

He somehow understands what you want without you having to state it explicitly, and you’re relieved when you see him unzipping his jeans, the crotch area of which was already giving away his own unhindered arousal.

“Are you ready?” He voices in a rich timbre, making an excited shudder run down your spine. You nod, straddling him by the waist.

He leans down to leave one last peck on your lips before he begins to enter you, sinking his length into your taut entrance. You can hear a guttural moan emanate from his throat as a reaction to how tight you actually are and how good you’re making him feel. Each of his movements is restrained but contain a trace of primal hunger that leaves you wanting more as he thrusts in and out of you after you’ve adjusted to his girth.

Never once did he lose himself in his own pleasure and forget to tend to your needs, making sure to read every little change in expression, every subtle jerk that maybe meant his movement had hurt you. You think Jungkook’s determined gaze is deceivingly sweet and misleadingly comforting because it’s erasing all of the doubt that you don’t actually have a soulmate, all of the invasive thoughts that you don’t deserve to be loved. It’s wiping away every last tear you’ve cried in the past, when you were lost and had to tell yourself that you’re fine amidst the hidden pain. Jungkook’s dazzling eyes are telling you that he will cherish you for the rest of his life, and despite the skepticism that all of this may be a dream, in that moment, you allow yourself to believe it’s real.

“Jungkook, that feels so good” You reassure him as you throw your head back against the pillow, prompting him to speed up and eliciting a louder cry to escape your lips.

His palm rises to hold your face because he didn’t think his gaze was enough to capture how beautiful you are to him, how much you’ve meant to him all this time. And in that momentary flickering, you can see the welling of his eyes, the gathering of tears that make his obsidian irises gleam with an insurmountable volume of stardust. It brings you to a transitory calm in the heat of the moment, a fleeting pause before the burning desire comes flooding back and you can feel yourself nearing the brink. You catch a glimpse of his eye crinkles as he squeezes them shut in pleasure, biting his lip and trying to delay his release. But another moan from you sends him hurling towards the edge with you chasing after him only seconds later. The last thrust drains him of all energy as he falls on top of you, chest rising and falling in rhythm with yours as everything else dissipates.

That feeling of your tangled bodies finding each other in this sea of isolation is filling the all the spaces that were once left empty. You make an effort to remember the warmth of his body, the scent of his hair, and the dull vibration of his pulsating member still inside of you, but you’re mind is too foggy to do so. Jungkook slowly rolls off of you, shifting into a position where he’s cradling you with his torso before drifting into the deep depths of slumber.

...

Hours pass before you wake up to the dim glow of the moonlight seeping in through the opened curtains. The male next to you is still sound asleep, breathing peacefully through parted lips. You swallow the lump in your throat as you sit up, making sure you cause the bed to move as little as possible as to not wake Jungkook up. Cautiously you stand up, tug on your clothes, and tiptoe over to the door, forcing yourself to not look back at his sleeping form.

He stirs awake, sensing your intent to leave, but just as you were about to turn the doorknob and step out of the room, you hear him whimper faintly.

You freeze in place, dropping the hand that you had lifted to twist the doorknob. It was as if the planet had stopped revolving and the surroundings had frozen in time. You turn back to Jungkook, the boy lying alone in the bed that seemed too big for how small he looked in that moment, and something in your chest constricts, robbing the air from your lungs.

“Please, don’t leave me.” He whispers pleadingly, with glossy eyes that contain entire galaxies, star systems that you cannot even dream of reaching, and looking into them in that infinitesimal second, you realize that he is, indeed, not your home.

He is not the comfort of a place that you ache to return to at the end of time and are capable of doing so, the destination every wanderer will eventually conclude their seemingly never-ending journeys. No, Jungkook is not your home. He is your hiraeth, something that does not exist in this tangible realm. He is that place that you will never be able to grasp because it is not actually there, it’s not real and never will be, but your heart will continuously chase after it anyways.

So you don’t leave him.

You stay.

…

“Oh come on Y/N, we’ve been planning this for months!” Taehyung exasperates, reminding you that he and Jimin have been planning this summer road trip since the begging of the year.

Of course you still remember. How could you possibly forget?

“It wouldn’t be the same without you and Jungkook” Jimin insists, almost in a whining tone as he nudges your shoulder.

You weren’t planning on rejecting their offer anyways. You just wanted to see their genuine reactions to you pretending to be on the fence, being a tease and all. In reality, you loved road trips, camping, and travelling the country. You can practically already see the beautiful scenery that Jungkook will capture on camera, as you had learned of his love of photography and filmmaking not too long ago.

The image of his smiling face pops up in your mind, making you smile fondly before turning back to Taehyung and Jimin.

“Guys, we’re obviously going” You roll your eyes playfully as identical looks of relief wash across both of their faces simultaneously.

You liked the way they accepted your relationship with Jungkook, how seamlessly it blended in to your friend group dynamic, with virtually no objections or awkward feelings. It was like everything had finally fallen into place.

And maybe they were all still concerned for when Jungkook actually finds his soulmate, still wary of the day he might leave you for someone else, the precise thing that had held you back from accepting him for so long. But you somehow find yourself dwelling over these fears less and less as time passes, because Jungkook makes you feel courageous. He renders you strong enough to believe that everything will be ok in the end no matter what happens, and for now, that’s more than enough.

...

It was the end of spring semester when you receive a text from Jungkook telling you there was something important he wanted to say to you in person. He had just messaged you about meeting him by the duck pond near campus, the place students liked to read under willow trees and come to feed their expired bread to the variety of bird species in the area. The blossoming spring was a perfect setting to take a nice walk outside and enjoy the mild weather, but you find yourself racing down the sidewalk because you were already twenty minutes late.

“Y/N?”

“Jungkook, sorry I’m late. I had to turn in my thesis paper last minute, that crazy professor wanted a hard copy. Like what century is he living in?” You shake your head, still trying to catch your breath.

“No worries. I just got here myself.”

You eye his half eaten granola bar, and the rest of the crumpled wrappers he was squeezing within his palms. Jungkook was either a fast eater or he was lying to make you feel better for being nearly half an hour late.

You barely hold back the urge to swoop down and hug him dearly. “So what did you want to tell me?” You query instead, sitting down on the patch of grass next to him, dropping your backpack and leaning next to him.

“I-I, ummm…”

“Or did you just want to see me?” You help him out; completely familiar with the way he gets too nervous to form coherent thoughts at times.

“Yeah, I really did.” He sighs, sitting up more to make room for you to rest your head against his chest as he leaned against the tree.

A moment of silence passes as the two of you gaze out at the pond, ducks swimming in sync and the occasional elegant swan making its way across the water.

“I use to come here a lot by myself.” You say, eyes still focused on the way the warm breeze causes the droopy branches of the willow trees lining the pond to sweep along the water’s surface. “I enjoyed my time alone, and although I’m reluctant to admit this even to myself, the reason I was so obsessed with solitude was because it made me feel like I was alongside someone I really wanted to be with.” You chuckle, realizing you sounded like you were spewing nonsense. “Sorry, I’m not making any sense am I?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond right away, but you know he’s thinking about something from the way he twirls his fingers in your hair, separating the silky strands and taking his time to ponder over your words. “No, I get it.” He voices. “That feeling of always thinking about someone even if that person isn’t real. So we never feel lonely even when we are alone.”

“Wow, that’s way better than I could’ve described it.”

You feel his body shift slightly as he wraps his arm around your shoulder a little tighter, and you can’t help but reflect on the fact that the sensation of being with Jungkook felt almost exactly like the alone times you treasured so much. As impossible as it sounds, it’s like he was somehow always with you disguised as that person who isn’t real or maybe it’s the other way around.

“So there actually is something I wanted to tell you today, and I’m really not sure if this is right time or if I should just wait because I might just be messing things up by saying this to you and I’m so nervous right now- god, I’m never going to be good at this am I?” He closes his eyes and sighs deeply, making you giggle at his flustered state. Truthfully, you’ll always find it extremely endearing, and you wished he wasn’t so hard on himself.

“Jungkook, it’s ok. Just tell me, I’m all ears.” You reassure him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest and being able to hear the rapid pounding of his heart as you nuzzled against his chest.

“I love you.” He says, voice so soft and airy that it was almost carried away by the wind before it could make it’s way to you ear.

Your initial reaction is not of disbelief or skepticism because you somewhat already knew about his feelings for you. And it wasn’t because he had already gotten in your pants and made love to you and it also wasn’t a deceiving result of you own feelings for him. Jungkook had made you feel special with his nonverbal gestures and shy actions for a long time coming, even when he was pretending to be a douchebag and acting unlike his real self to impress the people around him. It was always clear to you that he had placed you somewhere deep within his heart with his showing of his vulnerable side and the seeping of his true thoughts that he only revealed to you. But the weight of the actual words that escaped his lips just now comes as a slow swelling of your heart and makes a home in widening smile gradually stretching across your features.

“I love you too, Jungkook.” You whisper back, hugging him just a tad bit tighter, even though you knew he would never disappear.

It’s astonishing how much importance you used to put on the concept of finding a soulmate, that one person who was meant for you and promised to make you feel whole. You’ve come to learn over time that soulmates are not the final destination; your other half is not the ultimate goal in life or the only window to happiness and security, because in the end, those things are only constructs of your mind and ways that dictate how you ultimately perceive your own reality. Everyone is on this endless journey in search of that which cannot be found in this world or even the next, discovering consolation and solace in the spaces created by things we wished were there to fill the void.

Jungkook may not be your soulmate, but he’s the closest thing in this universe to that which your heart yearns for, and in a way it makes him mean so much more to you than a destined soulmate or an definitive home.

“So, this might make me sound grossly hypocritical, but I never actually received a soulmate.” You confess as you tilt your head up to read his reaction to your statement.

“What do you mean?” He questions, sitting up so he can look into your eyes because he truly cared, and he could tell just by the hesitation and tone of your voice that this was something you were reluctant to share but were doing so because you felt that it was the right time.

You flash him a faint smile before fiddling with your sleeve, biting your bottom lip as extend your upturned wrist towards him. There’s no hue of surprise washing over his face, or any kind of shocked response flickering past his irises for that matter. He just stares down at the horizontal line that you’ve put in the utmost effort to conceal ever since the fateful day it showed up on the tender skin of your wrist with a fondness that you don’t really understand.

“Jungkook?” You whisper, afraid that you might’ve scared him or made him change his mind about you.

He doesn’t respond vocally, still gazing at the exposed skin, pale and raw from the lack of exposure to sunlight over the years. He cautiously lifts his hand to place on your wrist, rubbing the area gently with the caressing touches of his quivering fingertips. You see his eyelids flutter up to glance at you momentarily with glistening eyes and the faintest of smiles. He doesn’t say anything, but instead turns his own arm over, slowly lifting the sleeve of his shirt cuff.

And beneath the fabric that is filtering away the harshness of the world is a marking that almost stops time:

An identical black horizontal line, matching the very one tattooed on your own wrist.

...

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