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#don’t use gods name to put other people down based on your own interpretation
lovee-infected · 3 years
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I enjoy reading character analysis to understand them more and I've also noticed that some insert fics are like too exagerated and their personalities are far from the canon twst. I think some writers are just basing their fics to others and and makes conclusion about it and ignore important details or text on their cards?* And as a reader, I do sometimes think that "this" character are like that. Like Vil, being portrayed as narcisstic and beauty obssessed charac, I think he isnt like that and theres more to him than we think. Sorry for the long ask✌️
You're totally valid anon and I see your point, you know while I agree that each idea and interpretation on characters is worthy on its own and no one is bound to having a specific opinion or belief, getting too wild with personal fantasies and ignoring the originals can totally ruin the writing. Characters are often mischaracterized especially in reader insert fics and the most annoying part is that almost everyone is making the same mistakes about him-! Like some of the noticable mistakes would be:
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(1) Femininely has nothing to do with Vil's terms of beauty
Oh lord what can I say- It's even against what Vil himself directly said through chapter five and how he cleared his point on male and female equal, and you can tell he is pretty strict about it.
Like did you just forget what he told Epel when he complained that he doesn't want to act like a girl: “a boy getting embarrassed about ‘acting like a girl,’ -- what year is your head stuck in??? did you take a time machine from 100 years ago??”
He doesn't seem to be one to appreciate the concept of labeling beauty as a female-only thing and on the other hand, he doesn't really seem to like the way women can be looked down on while being compared to men either. He seeks equality, and beauty wasn't ever defined as a feminine act in his dictionary; while there are tons of requests asking for: Vil forcing their trans s/o to wear more feminine clothes/ Vil asking their fem! s/o to wear more feminine stuff an look cuter/Vil complimenting s/o's appearance for not being feminine enough/... And literally TONS of requests like this. Please, you're forgetting one the most important parts of his personality, he considers male and female to be equal and it's so hecking important to show that he holds respect for all genders nonetheless.
(2) Vil's maturity is often ignored
Honestly, within all twst characters Vil's maturity on its own really impresses me. From the way he speaks to how serious and sincere he is all I gotta say is this man is waaay different from the way he's charactetized in most of the fics. Idk why but, he's sometimes charactetized as a guy who's ready to boil you alive if you dare touch any of his expensive make up pallettes or eyeshadows. Oh please, Vil isn't an angry child.
Also he often decides to keep his anger in, though you can tell when he's mad by just looking at his face. Clinching fists, trying not to talk and most likely, walking off or asking people to leave him alone until he calms down a bit is most likely his usual way of expressing his anger, but I've seen him being described as a loud, feral figure like Riddle is! Oh god no- Are you just ignoring how calm and collected Vil often tends to be?
(3) What's with the potato fetish?
While it's canon that Vil can sometimes call people around him potato. You may like to know that in some languages, potato is translated as "Apple of the ground", which can be an interesting reason of him using this nickname for people.
Watching Vil call students potatoes can be as entertaining as watching Malleus play with his tamagotchi, but again, it's important to realize that you don't have to only use potato when you're thinking of what Vil might say in a reader insert/situation!
Come on there are hundreds of different statements and sentences you can use other than just 'potatoes' and it'll get boring to read him saying the same nick name over and over in a fic. Good lord of course this isn't the only word he uses in communication so please try to avoid using it too much. This, is NOT the only word that he knows to use! (Seriously though I've seen being used like 6 times in a 500-word drabble)
(4) Please avoid spreading false information about him and his personality
Funny how I'm saying it here, but don't forget that you do not own him! Vil Schoenheit is a property of Disney/ Aniplex and all, which means that no one can certainly decide on his sexuality/ background/ unexplained character details unless it's officially announced.
Why am I saying this? Because some people are seriously going to far! I've seen people attacking others saying that Vil's pronouns are She/Her and not He/ Him like: EXCUSE ME...???
I don't want to get into details explaining how this drama is going but I've got to say something anyway, YOU DON'T HAVE THE RIGHT TO DECIDE ON HIS PRONOUNS! None of us do!
It's totally okay to have your personal preferences on his pronouns or anything else, but you must avoid spreading such information and forcing them on others as long as they aren't confirmed! Please keep your headcanons for yourself and don't confuse the fandom with them. Everyone's free to have their own headcanons but it's never okay to force them on others!
(5) Vil has a LOT to talk about other than just beauty!
Man... sometimes I feel like the fandom is just doing him dirty. Most of the reader inserts, fics , and even Vil memes have something to do with beauty while it's important to try and look through his personality as well instead of just sticking with the beauty aspect.
For example, through the Halloween event, I couldn't be any more surprised when Vil found the crying child who had lost their parents through the crowd and instead of just leaving them to headmaster or asking someone to take care of them he actually started to play with the child and entertrain and confront them on his own! That was probably one of his sweetest moments through the whole game and it really changed my mind about him! It was great to know that Vil as well can have a softer side when it comes to children, just imagine how good this can be used while writing a father AU for him!
His talents on the other hand need to be recognized, for example: his acting skills back in the ghost marriage proved how much of a great actor he can be and this can also give us lots of ideas to use in writings. On the other hand he's much of a celebrity on his own ( Woop- he's also got 2m followers on magicam) which gives us another great plot to write for him.
The way he is around close friends, how he compliments them and gets complimented by them in return, the way he manages Pomefiore and tries to put the students into doing their best in using their skills and lots of more interesting details that can be found through his stories are there to tell you that he's a lot more than just a beautiful Queen. A considerable part of his background as well is going to be released at he end of chapter 5 (Yes baby after the overblot Vil) and I hope that gives us all the opportunity to come up with stronger personalities and plots next time that we're describing or even, characterizing Vil!
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Lmao I kind of rushed to finish this so I didn't get to talk about him as much as I wanted to, but hope that this is useful anyway.
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zsocca55 · 3 years
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Hello There fellow Hungarian from Poland!
Do you have aby headcanons about Poland or Polish and Hungarian Relations?
Yay, another Pole! :D Much, much love from Hungary to you guys! ❤️❤️❤️ I tried to summarize my thoughts in short sentences but….eh… sorry for the length of this, but there is like, a ton of history to work with, and one idea popped up after another and then I just got lost typing this. I might as well write a whole book about it. XD
These are listed in more or less historical order. Am I doing this right? I’m bad at making headcanons! Also my interpretation of Poland is very different from his Hetalia presentation and my notes are based heavily on how Poland and Polish people are perceived in Hungary. Sorry if that bothers anyone, but I like to stay accurate to History.
Anyway, I hope this list satisfies!
Poland:
-Used to be really childish and carefree but after the partitions he matured rather quickly
-He is quite the attention-seeker, very social and has many friends but only a few real ones and he has trust issues and fear of abandonment - that’s why he can get very clingy
-Has pride like the size of the moon
-Communicates his emotions poorly - which results in him sometimes mistreating people he likes (Lithuania and Ukraine for example) - he is getting better at reading people though
-He is a “lets get shit done” type of person - you give him a job and he will do it impeccably and in time
-He appears like this happy-go-lucky guy, but it’s actually a coping mechanism
-When he feels down, he becomes emotional - and drinks a lot - he is an emotional drunk
-Had a big fat crush on Ukraine (he even has a folk song dedicated to her, Hej Sokoły!)
-Complains a lot - like a really lot
-Poland keeps old gifts he received from his great kings and queens in a safe (nobody knows about it though)
-The partitions caused him to lose consciousness for weeks. It was the shock of losing his identity as a ‘state’. All countries involved believed that he would die.
-Poland lived with Russia between 1795-1918 due to Russia possessing most of his territory. But he often made official visits to Austria and Prussia to negotiate the treatment of his people with them. He also got away on his own a few times (to help out Hungary in 1848-49 for example).
-Poland accompanied Tadeusz Kościuszko to America, but couldn’t stay for long. Youthful America’s enthusiasm inspired him a lot.
-He is a very bad driver, and had so many accidents he doesn’t keep count, but he is a skilled pilot so he often complains about not being allowed to fly around instead of driving around.
Poland and Hungary:
-Poland was also victim of Hungarian tribal attacks before the 10th century so his boss decided to befriend the new southern neighbour in hopes of making an ally. At first Hungary thought Poland was a girl while he thought she was a boy.
-Hungary first met a Polish tribe called “Lendzianie” and so she named his people “lengyel”. Poland never corrected her though.
-They paid visits to each other often during the early decades of the 10th century and played a lot. Once they jumped in a lake for fun’s sake, without clothes, and Poland quickly realized that Hungary is in fact a girl but he hadn’t got the heart to break the news to her because she was so confident in being a boy.
-They got distanced whenever internal crisises rose in their countries. Even up to this day, if one of them has an internal struggle, the other doesn’t pry and keeps a respectful distance. They respect each others boundaries in every way.
-Poland and Hungary were married twice, but all they ever did was giggle about it like the young teens they were and caused a lot of trouble for their kings with their pranks and mischiefs.
-Poland never understood why Hungary’s attention turned towards Austria in the 1400s though. Hungary also never understood why his attention turned towards Lithuania either.
-Poland and Hungary have a very similar residing scar running in three directions across their bodies which are testimony to them being thorn in three. Poland during the partitions and Hungary during the Ottoman-Habsburg invasions when she was also basically three entities in one.
-Poland fought with Hungary against Austria in 1848-49 but was dragged back by Russia when Hungary lost. He learned of her marriage to Austria through a newspaper much later and was severely disappointed in her.
-Poland tried to negotiate with the Allies in order to save Hungary from being chopped up and lose their shared border, but France faced him with a decision: either shut up and get a place on the map or refuse the treaty and have less territory. Poland never ratified the treaty but he still resents not fighting it more.
-Hungary tried to help Poland during his war with the soviets in 1920-22 but because Czechoslovakia refused to grant access to him out of spite, she turned to Romania of all people, pleading him to help. Romania actually helped.
-Hungary was pretty shaken and isolated from everyone after WW1. Only Poland and North Italy reached out to her, searching ways to keep in contact.
-Hungary resents joining the wrong side in WW2, which made her and Poland enemies. She tried to make the best of the situation and help Poland when her troops were stationed on his territory. They met accidentally in a forest while Poland was marching with partisans towards Warsaw in 1944. She helped him out but Prussia found them and Hungary pretended to take Poland hostage in order to release him later during the night. Her men were killed for fraternizing with the enemy.
-During the German occupation in Poland it was forbidden to listen to Polish nationalist songs and so Hungary and her men played “God save Poland” on repeat just because they could and Poland and his people were very thankful for it.
-When the Iron Curtain was drawn, Hungary hid away in her land, depressed, but Poland kept fighting the new rule until the Poznan protests inspired the uprising in Budapest in 1956. Originally Hungary organized a solidarity march for him but it turned into a freedom fight. She was struck down by Russia though, leaving her bleeding out on her streets with a hole in her chest. Poland flew to Budapest and offered his own blood to save her. Hungary remained unconsious for a week until she woke up. He was at her bedside the whole time.
-Poland often jokes about Hungary probably inheriting his “immortality” because of the blood transfusion.
-Hungary hid away again after 56. He tried to help Hungary get over her trauma by visiting her often during the rest of their years in the Soviet Union, but something broke in her and he didn’t really know what to do.
-This put a certain distance between them.
-After the USSR fell, Poland was quick to make new friends and make up with his neighbours but Hungary came out of her shell much slower. She did admire him for his strength to move on. He also encouraged her a lot to get up and improve her country.
-Hungary considers him her only real friend. She doesn’t trust anybody else with her life anymore. Out of gratitude, she decided to declare a special day for Poland (March 23) and when he heard of it, he actually teared up.
-Nowadays they visit each other on their Independence Days and celebrate together. They also go and cheer for each other’s football teams with hundreds of Poles chanting “Ria, ria, Hungaria!” and hundreds of Hungarians chanting “Polska! Polska!” on the streets.
-After hearing the song “Varsó hiába várod” from the band Republic, Poland thought Warsaw is indeed too far from Budapest so he made a plan to build a railroad so they can come and go between each other’s capitals in five hours. The idea is under construction at the moment.
-Poland and Hungary like to think that they are the heart of V4.
-Hungary goes along with whatever mischief or prank Poland makes up. And vica versa.
-They also promote their friendship with so much enthusiasm that Romania often calls them out for being too mushy.
.
Uh, thanks for reading through this! I know this is a lots of text, I get carried away when making up ideas. I’m unable to summarize my thoughts in short sentences. I don’t have the ability.
Also 50% of this is not even headcanon, some of these really happened or are happening.
Anyway, I hope I answered your question! :’)
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andypantsx3 · 3 years
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statistically significant | 2 | bakugou/reader
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length: 23,490 words | 7 chapters
summary: You’re the scientist who developed a neural net to model the value of assists. Now that your work is feeding into the hero rankings, pro hero Ground Zero has a bone to pick with your results.
tags: romance, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, reader-insert
warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, m/f threats of violence, problematic behavior
note: I cannot overemphasize that this interpretation of Bakugou is based on season 1 Bakugou, which means he behaves very questionably at the beginning. Please heed the warnings!
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Present day
Miruko’s agency was large, much larger than you had expected.
From the street, it had looked unobtrusive enough, a moderately-sized office building with a modern-looking glass front. You could see into a large reception area on the ground floor, and open workspaces on the next few floors, conjoined desks piled high with paperwork and slightly wilted-looking office plants. If not for Miruko’s name emblazoned over the entry in bold, metallic letters, you could have taken it for just another office building.
Once inside, however, the building became much more than that. After checking in at reception, you were led deep into the building, and gestured into an elevator that took you tens of floors down. When the doors opened, they let out into a cavernous space, stretching under what must have been the entire block. The floor was equipped with a gym, several reinforced training spaces the size of office buildings themselves, and what appeared to be a surveillance room where footage from the training spaces could be replayed.
Your mouth dropped open. Did all hero agencies hide deep underground like this? How many other underground floors were there? How big was Miruko Agency, really?
Your guide had enough tact to ignore your inelegant expression, instead leading you towards a training room. A huge, clear window tens of meters across looked into the space, but you would bet anything that it was made of some material much stronger than glass, which was especially evidenced by what you could see going on beyond the window.
Rubble littered the room, scattered in towering piles that gave the appearance of a post-doomsday cityscape. You didn’t know if the room had been set up this way, or if the rubble was the result of the battle going on within; there were two heroes that you could see darting around the space, both appearing to be causing maximum chaos.
Closest to you, a woman with wild pink curls was emitting a powerful stream of some cement-colored substance that ate away at anything it touched, causing it to smoke and hiss and crumble. She melted a huge hole in a pile of rubble, and a man with a shock of golden-yellow hair leapt away from what had probably been his hiding place, backpedaling wildly.
You perked up when you realized who they were--Ashido Mina, the number twenty-nine hero Pinky, and Kaminari Denki, the number thirty-three hero Chargebolt.
Kaminari threw out a hand, and a crackling wave of lightning struck out at Ashido. The lights flickered out briefly, and even behind the window, you could feel your hair stand on end. You blinked past the powerful flash that had temporarily blinded you, casting about for Ashido who had surely been struck down, only to choke on a laugh when you caught sight of her flashing Kaminari the middle finger, sliding away from a huge chunk of rubble she’d dislodged with her acid to use as a shield.
“They’re idiots,” a voice intoned from your side.
You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning to find Miruko herself standing next to you, powerful arms crossed over her chest. Despite her words, a little fond-looking smile flickered at the edges of her mouth.
You schooled your slack jawed expression into a smile. “I don’t know--their personalities are mostly why they’re so popular, so they must be doing something right. I did a little digging into everyone’s results before I got here, and they stood out among a lot of the rest.”
Miruko’s gaze flicked over you. She was short, maybe even shorter than you, but her keen red eyes and very lethal-looking biceps more than made up for her stature. She was intimidating in person, an air about her that told you she could snap and turn on you at any second. Despite the fact that she had asked you here herself, you felt like she might seize you and bodily throw you out of her agency.
“And that’s why they’re idiots. Their results are buoyed by their personalities,” Miruko sniffed. “They need work.”
You prickled a little, feeling like you should say something in their defense, but the truth of it was, you were here to help them work on things.
Some weeks ago, Miruko had contacted the Public Safety Hero Commission with interest in the ranking model. Your version had been in production for close to a year, and you had recently been making scholarly noises about feedback loops, asking for permission to provide pro heroes with individual results breakdowns. Miruko had caught wind of this and demanded on site assessments for her “team of frigging clowns” as she had so eloquently put it. And so you had been loaned out, with the idea of helping to direct the training for the heroes at Miruko Agency, providing them a real time comparison of their training footage to the generic hero ranking model results.
If this trial run was successful, if you could help any of the heroes measurably jump ranks, then the Commission had committed to providing individualized results for the thousands of heroes employed today. The Commission had also expressed interest in your idea of creating and packaging smaller models that took less technical skill to operate, for heroes to use to direct their own training. They had even seemed receptive to giving you a small team of research scientists and software engineers to build such a product, so you would be looking at a pretty sick promotion, not to mention.
Miruko made her way over to the surveillance room, beckoning you after her, and you watched as she leaned over a desk, pressing down a button with one gloved finger.
A crackling sound echoed overhead and her voice followed. “Alright, brats, recess is over. Anyone not heading out on patrol, meet in the surveillance room now.”
The flickering light from Kaminari’s lightning fizzled out, and the door to the training room opened not long after, Kaminari and Ashido spilling out in a chaotic whirlwind of limbs and petty squabbling. They were the first to arrive at the surveillance room, and Kaminari visibility perked up when he saw you.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, interrupting himself on a gasp when Ashido’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “What the fuck, Mina--! Why are your elbows so sharp? Can you just not--?” He grabbed her elbow. “Stop, look, it’s stats girl! From the Awards!”
You startled a little, shocked that he had remembered you. That had been almost a year ago, and you’d only exchanged a couple quick comments in the stairwell.
Ashido looked up from where she appeared to be attempting to crack one of his ribs, her expression shifting into something altogether too interested. You flushed when a sharp grin broke out over her pretty features.
“Oh my god, you’re stats girl? I have been waiting forever. It’s an absolute honor to meet you.” She held out a palm, waggling her rosy fingers expectantly.
A rising sense of horror grew within you. Did...did Kaminari remember you so clearly because he’d told people about the incident? What exactly had he mentioned to her? Who else had he spread the tale to?
“Um, yeah that’s me,” you managed, trying to tamp down your embarrassment.
Ashido grinned wider, leaning forward. “I was totally convinced Denki and Eijirou made you up, except that Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. You’re, like, a legend. Do you do autographs?”
You gaped at her, your mind sticking on the phrase Katsuki wouldn’t stop plotting revenge out loud for months. A nervous, hunted energy crept over you. Revenge...for months.
Miruko’s rabbit ears twitched and she turned to you, frowning. “I wasn’t aware you’d already met some of my circus monkeys. Is this going to be a problem?”
You dithered nervously, not actually sure if it would be. You’d known Bakugou worked at her agency, considering you had done a fair amount of pre-work collecting everyone's results. But you’d honestly put off thinking about this. Bakugou had been in quite the rage at the Hero Awards, but that had been almost a year ago. And Ashido had phrased his revenge plans in the past tense… Surely he didn’t still hold as much of a grudge now?
Miruko eyed you suspiciously for a moment, but she was distracted when the scuffle of boots indicated the approach of other heroes, and a pair of burly men with curling satyr horns rounded the corner, one of them leaning forward to speak to her. Ashido sent you a wink when Miruko turned her back, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like later.
In the next few minutes, a small group of heroes assembled, ranging from relatively well-known heroes like Ashido and Kaminari, to a couple of heroes who ranked deep in the hundreds--you only knew some of their faces because Miruko had provided you with a list of her employees for preparatory research purposes. They formed a small crescent around the surveillance area, chattering lowly to themselves and eyeing you with speculative curiosity.
To your eternal relief, her most famously explosive employee was conspicuously absent, and you felt yourself relax when it seemed like everyone had turned up who was going to.
When it seemed like the crowd size was finally large enough to please her, Miruko barked a loud “SHUT UP” at them. The din of low voices instantly died down.
“Alright brats. Over the next few months, Y/N will be working here at the agency with us. She has been invited on behalf of the commission, and will be analyzing your quirks, your methods, and your recent work,” Miruko said. “She has individualized results pulled from the current hero rankings that can inform you how to improve. I expect you to take full advantage of this opportunity.”
She gestured to you, giving you a meaningful look as if she expected you to introduce yourself. You gave a little wave, glancing at the heroes around you.
“Um, hi,” you said. “As Miruko-san said, I can give you a little advice based on your current results breakdown. I also plan to analyze video of your training in the coming weeks, and build parallel models to simulate future results given your performance. We can compare those to the current rankings for an idea of how much work you will have to put into particular skills for you to move up in the ranks.”
A small murmur went through the crowd at the prospect of moving up in the ranks. Some gazes sharpened in interest.
You continued, “This is also a good chance to work on specific growth areas -- I can train smaller models on subsets of videos so you can compare your skills more directly with each other or with other heroes from other agencies. Please let me know if there is anything special any of you would like to focus on.”
Miruko stepped back in front of you. “Y/N is going to set up in the surveillance room for the next few weeks. I’ve already established checkpoints for all of you to meet with her, but I encourage you to meet with her more often if you can.”
There were a couple of nods, and a few interested whispers from somewhere at the back of the crowd. Miruko took a breath like she was going to say more, but then--
“Hard pass,” a voice growled from your left. Your hackles instantly raised, and it took your brain a couple seconds to catch up with your instincts. You whipped around wildly when you realized you knew that voice, and you almost jumped a full foot in the air when you caught sight of those familiar blonde spikes over another hero’s shoulder.
You hadn’t noticed his approach, but Bakugou had clearly returned from a fight only minutes ago. His hair drooped a little with sweat, there was dirt streaking the points of his high cheekbones, and his costume was shredded by a thousand tiny tears, like he’d been thrown through a glass window. And...was that blood on his gauntlets? Was it his?
You were torn between immediate annoyance and something like concern at the sight of him so obviously roughed up.
“The meetings are not optional,” Miruko’s voice took on a hard edge.
“I already know what this fucking nerd has to say,” Bakugou drawled dismissively. “And I don’t give a shit. I don’t need assists if I’m the one busy saving the fucking day.”
Your mood edged cleanly into annoyance. It seemed he hadn’t changed any, then.
Miruko’s face darkened. “It wasn’t a suggestion.”
Bakugou bared his teeth. They gleamed almost blindingly white against the dark dirt on his face. “No.”
A wild look entered Miruko’s eye at the challenge. “Everyone is dismissed. Except Katsuki,” she uttered in a low, dangerous tone.
There was a small pause. The heroes around you looked at her askance, and her features darkened even further. “I said scram. NOW!”
The effect was immediate. It felt like no sooner had you blinked than the hall was suddenly clear. The sight of Kaminari and Ashido wheeling around the corner was all the proof you had that the team hadn’t suddenly vanished from existence.
Bakugou snorted and propped himself lazily against a column, affecting a slouch, one pale eyebrow raised over his insouciant expression. It looked almost too perfectly arrogant, and you wondered if he practiced it in the mirror sometimes.
“I said the meetings are not optional, Katsuki,” Miruko hissed, taking a step closer to him. “You can ignore her suggestions all you want, but you will attend them.”
Close as they were, you could see she was almost a full head shorter than him, but the force of her anger seemed to make her larger somehow--she wasn’t towering over him, but she was certainly terrifying. Towering under, your mind supplied unhelpfully.
Bakugou, for his part, held his ground. His mouth curled disdainfully. “What’s the fucking point? The nerd’s just gonna tell me stupid shit. And I’m not going to listen.”
Your fingers twitched in irritation. Data wasn’t stupid shit -- it was mathmatical fact, almost as divorced from human bias as it was possible to be. How was it humanly possible that he hadn’t learned anything or grown even the littlest bit? How was it possible that he was just as infuriating as he was a year ago?
But fine. He could have things his way if that’s what he wanted.
Miruko’s face twisted in a scowl, and she took a deep breath like she was ready to start yelling. But you got there first.
“He has a point,” you said, giving him a hard look over the top of Miruko’s head. “I would hate to waste my time on someone who’s been stalled in the rankings for a year now. He wouldn’t know how to implement my advice even if I were to give it.”
You paused, letting an uncharacteristic smirk curl your mouth, trying your best to channel his disdainful energy. “Isn’t that right, Number Eight?”
Bakugou’s gaze sharpened over Miruko’s silver hair, twin pinpricks of red narrowing in on you. He abandoned his slouch, his body tensing like a hound that smelled blood. “What did you just say?”
You pushed down the petty satisfaction that rose within you at his reaction. He was so fucking prideful, so easy to bait.
“Hmm, cognitive delays,” you said, pretending to tap your chin thoughtfully. “Very worrying. Further evidence he wouldn’t be able to process the information, though. No, I think it’s best if we don’t meet.”
Bakugou pushed himself off the column, edging around Miruko as his mouth drew into a snarl. You were immediately reminded of the Hero Awards, that same overwhelming prickle of power edging over you as he stalked closer, the same scent like caramel and gunpowder.
Miruko’s eyes flicked between the two of you curiously, an eyebrow raised in interest. You hoped it meant she was interested enough in your data analysis to intervene if Bakugou tried to sauté you like an onion.
“If you melt through this blazer I really will sabotage the hero rankings and dip you all the way to number five hundred,” you threatened, edging away from Bakugou as he drew closer. “And also you owe me money for that dress.”
“I’m not gonna fucking give you shit,” he announced, looming over you when he’d decided he was close enough to intimidate. He was near enough that you could feel the heat of him, but he hadn’t put his hands to you yet. It seemed Miruko was enough of a deterrent to curb his bad behavior. “And I’m not gonna meet with you.”
“Good, then we agree,” you said, tipping your head back to look him in the eye. “You’re not good enough to do better anyways.”
Bakugou growled, the phrase clearly still enough to tick him off a year later. “Fuck you, I’m the best.”
“That’s not what your ranking tells me,” you clicked your tongue, feigning disinterest. With the dirt and scratches all over him he looked wilder than ever and you would be a fool to ignore it, but Miruko’s presence made you bold. And something else, some latent streak of frustration and pettiness told you to keep going, to keep pressing the buttons that were getting this reaction from him.
“Your ranking tells me you haven’t even improved the tiniest bit in an entire year. At this rate, you’ll never even hit the top three, never mind be the best. I don’t think you could improve even if you wanted to,” you said.
Bakugou looked like he wanted nothing more than to tear your head off with his teeth. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
You opened your mouth to reply but there was a sudden motion at the edge of your vision, something pink and blurry and wild. You glanced past Bakugou’s shoulder to find Ashido leaning around the wall, waving a hand frantically and mouthing something at you. You squinted, watching her lips shape themselves carefully: make a bet.
What? Make a bet?
She wanted you to make a bet?
You looked back up at Bakugou, taking in the oppositional expression, the angry curl of his mouth, the straight slope of his nose, and those keen, blood red eyes glaring down at you. This was certainly the face of a man who wouldn’t be told what to do, who couldn’t be told what to do.
But despite your words and your inherent distaste, there was no denying he was actually your best shot, the cleanest pathway to your promotion. Bakugou was smart, driven, and absolutely lethal. If anyone could turn around a rank at top speed it was him.
But he couldn’t be made to do it. He had to want to do it.
Ashido waved in the corner of your vision again, enunciating with exaggerated facial expressions. Make a bet.
Things clicked into place.
“Hmm, I wouldn’t be so sure,” you looked away from Ashido, inspecting your nails casually, like your focus would rather be anywhere than on this conversation. “In fact, I would bet almost anything that you wouldn’t know how to implement my suggestions, even if you tried.”
Bakugou froze, red eyes passing over you curiously. For one heart stopping moment, you thought he was on to you, but he just leaned down instead, putting his face close to yours.
“I’ll fucking take that bet.”
You tried to push down your sudden swell of excitement, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You knew he wouldn’t cooperate if he thought you were happy about this.
“Fine. You have two months to jump a rank,” you said. “Or I win. And you’ll pay me what you owe me for the dress.”
Bakugou smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. This had the effect of emphasizing both the tears in his shirt and the swell of his biceps.You quickly attached your eyes firmly to his face--that was so not what you needed to be focused on right now.
“I’ll do it in one,” he said. “And then I win, you smug fucking nerd.”
You gazed at him steadily. “Agreed. Miruko’s number seven--you think you can beat your own boss with just a month of work? You’ll never.”
“You haven’t heard what I win yet,” he said.
You stared at him, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “You go up in rank. That’s what you win.”
Bakugou’s handsome face shifted into an uneven smirk. “Oh no. This is twice now you’ve opened your little know-it-all mouth and acted like you know what the fuck you’re talking about. When I win, you’ll tell me I’m the best and I was right all along.”
You suppressed an eye roll. If he moved up a rank, the point would very obviously be that you were right all along. Was he really so unreasonably competitive and spiteful that he needed to be told he was right?
Then you remembered he’d quite literally dragged you into a stairwell and implied he'd fry you to a crisp when he found out he was number eight. Of course he was.
Well, a few throwaway words were worth nothing compared to the promotion you’d be getting. He could have his sense of self satisfaction when you were knee deep in software engineers and fat stacks of money.
You took a deep breath, holding out a hand. “Okay. If you win, which is a very big if, then I’ll admit it. Deal?”
Bakugou considered you for a long moment, red eyes watching you closely, before a calloused hand engulfed yours. “Deal," he growled, a crooked grin flickering at the edge of his mouth. "Get ready to eat shit, nerd.”
You suppressed another eye roll, hoping to god this was going to be worth it.
This was going to be the longest month of your life.
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hokeytheelf · 3 years
Text
Blackinnon, a measured response.
Would update if more discussions comes out. This post is not for a specific person. If the statement doesn’t apply to you, do not take it personally.
If you think Blackinnon is homophobic, think again!
Here are the facts: yes, Blackinnon is fanon. yes, we are a small community. yes, it’s heterosexual. But does that mean we hate queer ships?  No.
Some may think,  “Marlene Mckinnon is not even a background character, why on earth does people ship it? They must be homophobic.” This may be a little shocking, but accusing someone of being homophobic just based on what they ship is an act of denigration. You’re just putting hate on other people’s mouth to make them your foe, even if they have no intentions to be so.
We can ship blackinnon and wolfstar or dorlene. Some of blackinnon shippers actually believe those can co-exist. So what is the problem?  We can ship wolfstar or dorlene and not blackinnon or the other way around. It’s really based on taste and what they’ve read. 
Shipping a straight ship is not an act of homophobia, nor does it make you straight. I could be gay or bi and ship blackinnon. It’s not a hard concept to understand.
I know a lot of people who hate blackinnon rant because they have a passion for their own ship, and I don’t blame them. You can ship whatever you want. But is it really necessary to bring other ship down?
If you have the need to rant and hate about a certain ship, make sure you use the anti tag. If you knew about the tag but still refuse to use it, you’re just writing rants to belittle other people in your favor. Doesn’t sound very accepting.
read more about my points on Blackinnon and sexuality from previous discussions here (x) 
Seriously, though, WHY do people ship it? 
If you genuinely want to know, then ask the person who ship them. I can’t speak on behalf of all the Blackinnon shippers because they ship it for different reasons. Some ship it for their dynamic, from the fanfics they’ve read, from the headcanons, from their view of Marlene, from their view of Sirius and many more.
For me personally, I ship them for two reasons. Their character dynamics throghout almost all the fanfics i read and, because in my mind wolfstar couldn’t work because of Sirius’s insensitivity for Remus throughout the books (i.e. The Prank, him liking the full moon, giving his riches to harry, his suspicion, etc.), and Frankly i think Remus deserves better. Shockingly, that’s just my opinion. And I have no problem with people not agreeing, but that’s what I concluded when I read the books. and the idea of Sirius having someone is nice you know? The flexibility of Marlene’s character is very inviting for everyone because they have their own interpretations.
Someway or another, you should accept that people have different opinions and interpretation. If you think blackinnon is unbelievably bad, then you do you. Doesn’t mean you have to leave a hate-post on their tag, nor should you blame them for shipping stuff they like.
Blackinnon is a very small ship. And if you hate it, you shouldn’t even bother commenting, responding, or ranting. It just makes people defend it, really. Some people love this ship and you’ve gone out of your way to make them feel bad about themselves. Why?
Marlene McKinnon is not even a a proper character
Here are the facts about Marlene McKinnon: Her name means star of the sea, she is a member of the order, her name is mentioned in Lily’s letter to Sirius, Sirius pointed at her in the movies.
A person that we know Sirius is at least acquainted/friends with makes her a blank canvas. As we all know, Sirius has no romance life in canon, so our options are very minimal. 
There are people who ship Sirius with Caradoc, Benjy, Dorcas, Mary, Gideon, Fabian, and so much more. There are less hate for them compared to blackinnon and here’s why: Marlene McKinnon seemed to be in the spotlight because she is second to Remus in terms of possible pair for Sirius. That’s it.
Some Blackinnon shippers like blackinon because Marlene is practically a walking OC. She can be whatever you want.
 But people tend to focus on the fact that she’s female. Putting that aside, Marlene is an absolute blast to read. Yes, she’s mentioned only a few times, but the whole point of Blackinnon is the possibility. Isn’t that always the case for fanon ships?
Understand the hate towards Blackinnon
When I first dive into Blackinnon years ago, all I see is hate thrown at them. The hate hasn’t stop, whether it’s from private messages or from hate-post.
The conversations I have with fellow Blackinnon shippers usually consist of the same things, “Why don’t they just leave us be?” and till this day I still wonder.
I’ve done my research, and really I wanted the results to be different. 
There are many many many ships out there, using incest, pedophilia, or other stuff, and shockingly, it receives less hate from people. Doesn’t that beg the question? 
Do people hate it because they simply dislike it or are they hating it because they have biased opinions about other ships. The truth is, (I’m going to unfilter- god protect me from hate messages) Blackinnon received a lot of hate because it’s the opposite of wolfstar. It’s straight. It’s not Remus. The audacity of people shipping Sirius with a person other than Remus! It’s the same argument for Remadora hate. More than 70%  (not all ) of the people who hate on blackinnon and remadora, I observe, is from wolfstar shippers. (Yes, I counted it. I am a math god, and in need of a job)
People don’t have as much of a problem for Sirius/Mary, Sirius/Dorcas, Sirius/ Benjy, Sirius/Hermione etc. They have a problem with Blackinnon and Remadora (I wonder why).  I’ll say it again, Marlene McKinnon seemed to be in the spotlight because she is second to Remus in terms of possible pair for Sirius.
Hating other ship to make your ship appear better is.... to be honest, understandable. But to tell you the truth, It doesn’t change a thing.
It doesn’t make me hate my ship. If your intentions on writing hate post is to receive approval from other people, I suggest you search for something else than the topic of hatred.
But, again, if you have the need for the feeling of satisfaction of speaking your opinion of something you passionately hate, then use anti-tag. It’s not so hard.
***CONCLUSION***
At the end of the day we have so much love for these characters, and our biases is only for ourselves. Can’t we just agree  that although we love Harry Potter, we can also love different characters throughout the books/movies? There are communities for everything, focus on the community you love, not the community you hate.
If you got offended throughout reading his post, I’m sorry. But let me clear things up, I do not hate wolfstar, queer-ships, etc. I just like blackinnon, as simple as that. This doesn’t prove that I’m straight, or bi, or anything. It’s just what I like. This post is a defense and obviously not a hate-post. What I ask of you is just to leave blackinnon (and remadora) alone. Thank you.
I am doing this measured response so I don’t have to re-write everything every time people leave hate-posts. If you receive this from a link in the comments, thank you for taking the time, and remember that it’s not meant for you specifically. Disclaimer: Do not share this to people in anti tag.
Check out my Ultimate Blackinnon fanfiction masterlist here
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lilyclawthorne · 3 years
Text
Escaping Expulsion Thoughts (once again very stream of conscious-like while i rewatched the episode so there’s a bunch of stuff here)
i fucking knew odalia was gonna be an oracle, i knew and i hate that for her family. i’m not sure if this necklace thing is specifically a form of oracle magic or not but im assuming it is, and either way the second i saw it happen that made my stomach twist. the fact that she just keeps this direct line to her daughter at all times feels so disturbing
so, i get that the joke with glyph lessons here is that eda and lilith are probably acting the exact same way they did when they were younger, but it does also feel a little odd for me. in my post for episode 1 i talked about how it felt like lilith probably missed the structure of the coven, and maybe even having an authority figure, and it does concern me a bit that it could be projected on to luz here. 
also, i saw someone mention that they thought lilith could be regressing a bit, which is interesting seeing as she’s been in the coven since basically being a child and now that she’s out, she could be going backwards because that was probably the last time she had a personality of her own instead of one that was carefully crafted to be socially acceptable for others. and to be fair, the few moments in season 1 when we see glimpses into the true lilith, she is pretty childish.
anyways lilith has such pretty handwriting i love it
gus!! witch puberty!! do not worry buddy eda will get your name eventually. probably.
amity went out and murdered those fairies for luz didn’t she
i need to know why the heck bump has no choice in the matter of the expulsion. typically a pta (or pca in this case) wouldn’t have power that much stronger than the principa?? so i wonder if the blights have something over bump, or if its even just something such as donation money they’d withdraw
odalia blight you gaslighting bitch “I’m appalled you’re not in class right now what are you thinking” YOU MADE HER COME HERE
PLEASE i know gus and willow are sad here but the whole “live off the land” thing and “water you one last time, with my tears” are so fucking funny ok
GO LUZ, YOU TELL OFF ODALIA
i feel like alador doesn’t really care what’s going on and just wants to be back home making his abomination inventions, also he seems to have an affinity for different creatures as well which is an interesting detail
i love that willow stated they would get back in on their own right in front of alador and odalia. these people fucked up her friendship and caused her a lot of trouble that she shouldn’t have had to deal with so i love that she’s unafraid to speak like that in front of them
between the first & second episode, and some of the seasons trailer, it seems like Lilith may have an affinity for ice magic? which is interesting seeing as eda was always a fan of her “spicy toss” aka some fire magic. interesting to see the two of them as fire & ice basically
i LOVE how much bump loves luz, willow, and gus. it’s kinda really sweet, but again it feels so concerning that he had no choice in the matter. makes me think he’s more likely to eventually rebel against the standards that have been in place for so long at some point. (also abominations coven for bump!! interesting!! i appreciate seeing the coven marks included on the adults so far)
what is it with these kids and being dragged off by their hoods in this episode
love that the blights address includes “right arm”, also i took a quick look up of the word “bruegal” which is boulevard they live on, and it’s probably just a coincidence but the first google result was actually for a european think tank that specializes in economics
yknow i actually have wondered about layering glyphs on top of each other and making a super glyph the way eda did, so good to know that would NOT work out
luz you’re really gonna give the blights their own flowers??????
it goes by so fast but please take a moment to take in and appreciate the design of that blight entry room/living room-esque area and it’s combination of abomination and oracle decor. also the blight family portrait.
i could talk about alador and odalia and their relationship dynamic here, when luz is meeting with them, but i think it’s best to save for the end, but i will say i don’t think it’s just odalia controlling everything (though she does control a lot) and alador just suffering and being silent. 
the more i stare at odalia’s hair the more i feel like she has an odd receding hairline
love that the abomination kept the cat shape luz gave it and that amity knew immediately from that
WILLOW’S DADS!!! I LOVE THEM! I love how much they want their daughter to have a great education even if they have to be the ones to do it! (even if it could come across as a little intense) Although, the fact that they’re prepared to teach plant magic to her makes me question why they put her in abominations once again. (wish we could’ve gotten a glimpse of their coven marks!)
odalia is definitely the one who handles more of the parenting and alador is more distant. at least that’s what i get based on the twins specifying to amity not to tell their mom specifically
absolutely insane that odalia is just letting the abomiton destroy the whole place to kill a child
“stay away from my luz!” oh my god,ohmy GOD 
i like how lilith can’t tell if these are normal noises or distress ones. really sums up life in the owl house. also lilith? kicking doors in?? this combined with “I AM A WITCH, UNHINGED” tells me she’ll be as chaotic as the rest of the owl house in no time and i am here for it.
the music when amity jumps in to protect luz is absolutely killing it here i need a soundtrack now
YES AMITY DESTROY THE NECKLACE (and oh god please don’t let odalia give you something even harder to remove or destroy)
Luz is blushing!! The feelings are starting to be returned!!!
“Luz, Willow, and Gus are my friends!” love it. love the open declaration. love that she’s telling her mother off. love that i have something to check off my bingo board already.
okay, i know a lot of people have already suggested that alador is smiling here because he can tell luz and amity like each other, but i’m pretty sure it’s only because he’s noticing how much amity’s magic has grown and improved
small detail but i love the smoke from the units order sign filling the background while odalia is fuming herself
oh? alador has had the ability to tell odalia off and successfully calm her down this whole time? and chose not to use it till now? yeah he sucks too. he very clearly has a plan for amity as much as odalia does as well, but he’s much better at seeing the long-term goal
“the glyph combo, copyright me, lilith” im screaming, lilith you DORK
ok i really wish eda or lilith asked where luz had been. i’d kill for these sisters to go off about how much they hated the alador and odalia in school, as well as threaten to hurt them for hurting luz.
the statue lilith made and her reaction to the gold star she received re-emphasizes my concern about her need for approval and for an authority figure. (ok but her noise at the gold star WAS very cute tho)
alright lets get down to business on the blight parents. so far i definitely do not view their relationship as being one-sided with odalia in control. honestly, i think they do have a sense of mutual respect for the other. to me it seems like all alador really wants to do is focus on his work and nothing else, and odalia seems not only more than happy to let him do so, but willing to take care of everything else the company needs, and he seems fine with that and going along with whatever because he only has to do his part. and clearly his abomination tech combined with her showmanship/advertising (and honestly probably some oracle magic) has clearly made them successful. 
so what im saying is that i think their power in their relationship is actually pretty balanced, if it looks otherwise that’s just because that’s how they best function together, with odalia being more forward and alador being more distant, and therefore they’re very much both to blame for shitty parenting. 
also I know some people have joked about the blight family name coming from odalia (which is also a dumb joke like why is it funny if the family name comes from the woman and not the man) but anyways I definitely do think blight is aladors family name and odalia married in simply because he takes the whole blights keep up their end of the deal thing much more seriously than odalia. probably something that’s been taught to him since he was a kid yknow, whereas she was super ready to ignore it when it inconvenienced her.
as for the very final scene with them and the golden guard, i had an interpretation of it that i saw, but it seems that everyone else ive see react to it so far saw something different than me so maybe i’m just plain wrong. but like, i have this feeling that maybe the blight parents, while they do want power, might not be as aligned with the emperor and his coven as we may think?? not saying they’re good people, just that there could be more going on here. but idk, i’ve seen no one else interpret it that way yet so i won’t go off about it unless either someone wants to know more of what i thought or if i ever actually make myself get around to making a separate post about it. 
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leejungchans · 3 years
Text
— wifey.
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word count: 1.7k
warning(s): none!!
genre: fluff, humour
notes: obviously i don’t know what went on backstage at the sma/award shows in general, especially with the special arrangements of award shows in the past two years due to you-know-what, so this is mainly based on my own interpretation/imagination!!
set during january 31, 2021
summary: juliet tells one of her closest friends her secret backstage at the seoul music awards.
juliet’s masterlist | ask game
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ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:16] do you wanna stop by and chat? 🥺
juliet 🤍 [19:17] didn’t we just talk on the phone yesterday? i didn’t know you wanted to see me this much 😼
ryujinnie 🙄💖 [19:17] ...never mind 🚪🚶🏻‍♀️
juliet 🤍 [19:17] no wait i’m joking come back wifey 🥺🥺🥺🥺 what number is your dressing room?
“Unnie,” Juliet calls out to her manager, “can I go see Ryujin at ITZY’s dressing room? I won’t be long.”
Despite wearing a mask, Juliet can tell that the older woman is smiling from the way her eyes curve up into crescents. “Sure, I don’t think you guys have to be on stage for a while. I’ll text you if something comes up and you need to be back here.”
“Okay! Thanks, unnie!” Juliet says before grabbing her phone and putting on her mask. She passes by San on her way to the door and takes the opportunity to pat him on the head.
He looks up from his phone to find the maknae grinning down at him. “Who are you off to bother now?” he jokes.
She gasps, feigning offence as she places a hand over her heart. “Excuse you! It’s not my fault people want to see me!”
San rolls his eyes. “Okay, Miss Popular, I’m not going to hold you back any longer then. Be careful!”
“Careful is my middle name.”
“Says the person who almost tripped on the red carpet earlier.”
“...Definitely Wooyoungie-oppa’s fault.”
An indignant squawk comes from somewhere else in the room. “No, it wasn’t and you know it!”
San groans playfully. “I hate our family.”
“No, you don’t.”
“No, I don’t.”
Giggling at their banter, Juliet heads out into the hallway of the venue, bowing to the various passing staff members as she looks for ITZY’s dressing room.
She doesn’t miss the screens located on the walls showing SEVENTEEN receiving their bonsang, and she stops momentarily to watch their speech while smiling to herself, heart swelling at how happy she is for them (and specifically, her boyfriend).
When Juliet finally finds her friend in an empty hallway, leaning against the wall next to a door which she assumes leads to ITZY’s room, she immediately runs to tackle the rapper in a back hug.
“Guess who?”
“My worst nightmare.”
Juliet pouts even though Ryujin isn’t able to see it. “You’re no fun, Jinnie.”
“And you’re very cute.”
“Damn, and I’m going to forgive you just like that,” Juliet laughs. “Nice outfit, by the way.” She takes Ryujin’s hand to spin her around as she admires the ITZY member’s all-white suit. “Very fitting for the boss that you are.”
“I knew you were in love with me!” Ryujin teases, which immediately earns her a light smack on the arm. “So, how’ve you been?”
Juliet gives her a flat stare. “We literally talked yesterday.”
“Something could’ve happened since then!” Ryujin defends. “Plus, I just like hearing from you.”
Despite feeling warm and fuzzy from her friend’s sweet words, Juliet plays along by faking a cough. “Whipped. But to answer your question, not much has happened, unless you count almost falling asleep when getting my makeup done at the shop something exciting.”
That was partly a lie. Admittedly, she had been texting Chan nonstop during the day knowing they’d be seeing each other here, but she doesn’t know how to approach the topic with Ryujin. They’re as close as can be, but how do you break the news?
“‘Hey, I’m dating someone. I don’t know if you’ve heard of his group though, it’s not like his group is a million-seller or anything!’ Like this?” she wonders aloud that morning in the dorm.
“Uh, yeah, that’s exactly how you tell someone,” Jongho deadpans from where he’s making coffee in the kitchen. “Well, maybe except the last part. Just say, ‘Hi, insert friend’s name, just wanted to share with you that I’m dating Dino from SEVENTEEN.’ Why are you being weird about this?”
“Did you seriously say ‘insert friend’s name’?”
“Yes, now answer my question.”
Juliet sluggishly rolls off the sofa to lie on the floor in a starfish position. “I don’t know...do people in our industry even tell their friends that they’re dating someone? Or do they, like, let their friends find out along with the rest of the world? Is it pretentious to tell someone just like that? Am I not being careful enough if I do that?”
Jongho frowns, sliding a mug of coffee across the counter for her to drink later before padding over to her. “I think mornings make you overthink more,” he says softly as he crouches next to the starfi—the maknae.
“Of course it wouldn’t be wise to grab a megaphone and run down the street broadcasting it, even though that wouldn’t be the stupidest thing you’ve done.” Juliet raises a leg to kick him lightly as he cackles. “But if you know that person can be trusted—wait, who exactly are you planning to tell?”
“Ryujinnie if I see her later at the award show,” Juliet replies, flailing her limbs around. “Maybe Felix? If I happen to also run into him.”
Jongho moves to sit on the floor. “Why didn’t you tell Ryujin-ssi yesterday over the phone then?”
“I don’t know...” she admits, “the topic never came up, and this doesn’t feel like news to tell over the phone.”
He flicks her head playfully. “You’re acting like you’re getting married or something.”
“Shut up, Jongho,” Juliet mutters, a faint tinge of pink forming on her cheeks.
“Anyways, both of them are people you trust, so I think it’s okay to tell them. They probably saw it coming like us and will likely be just as supportive, you don’t have to be weird about it, though that can be hard for someone like you,” he jokes.
“I will strangle you.” There’s no way he’s taking her seriously, not with one of her cheeks squished adorably against the floor.
“You can’t even crush an apple with your hands, but sure.”
At that moment, Seonghwa walks into the living room to find the two youngest members sprawled on the cold tiles. “What are you two doing down there?” he scolds, “you’re going to catch a cold!”
“Earth to Juliet!”
Juliet snaps out of her daze quick enough to register Ryujin waving a hand in front of her face. “Oh, sorry, I spaced out,” she says sheepishly.
Ryujin giggles. “I figured that, is everything okay?”
Juliet is about to respond when there is a commotion at the end of the hallway. Then she hears a familiar voice, more specifically, one belonging to a certain Boo Seungkwan.
Both girls turn their necks to find the members of SEVENTEEN walking in their direction, likely returning to their own dressing room. Before Juliet can think of a way to dig a hole to hide in, the members recognise her instantly, promptly exchanging knowing glances and letting out aye’s.
Ryujin blinks confusedly. Why are her seniors chuckling amongst themselves at the sight of the two girls chatting in the hallway? And why is her friend suddenly acting so strangely and avoiding eye contact with everyone and everything but the ground?
Her bewilderment increases tenfold as SEVENTEEN draws closer, with Juliet still looking down even when they bow to their seniors and murmur quiet greetings.
What is going on?
The answer to her question comes when the group quickens their pace and walks past the girls, laughing and sneaking glances over their shoulders as they disappear around the corner. All of them, but one.
Ryujin shuffles, awkwardly bowing to the youngest SEVENTEEN member which he returns along with a quiet “hello”. She watches in part shock and part amusement as Chan turns to her friend.
“Hi.”
Despite their masks, anyone could tell they were both smiling widely, and judging from her friend’s sparkly eyes and pink ears, Ryujin had no doubt that their relationship goes beyond a simple friendship.
“Congratulations,” Juliet tells him shyly, “I’ll be looking out for your performance later.”
The corners of Chan’s eyes crinkle even more. “Thanks, I’ll be cheering ATEEZ on too, of course. Stop by later if you have time? Seungkwannie-hyung said he misses you and Wooyoung,” he says the last part with a playful roll of his eyes.
Juliet laughs. “Okay, I’ll bring him with me later,” she promises.
Ryujin and Juliet watch Chan jog down the hallway, presumably to catch up with his members, before the former turns to her friend and clears her throat dramatically.
“Miss Juliet, is there something you want to tell me?” Ryujin asks with a wriggle of her eyebrows. “I’ve heard you mention that you’re friends with Dino-sunbaenim, but I didn’t know you two were this close?”
Juliet bites the inside of her cheek. “Promise you won’t tell?”
Sensing the serious tone in her voice, Ryujin nods solemnly. “Promise.”
Juliet leans down to whisper in the shorter girl’s ear. “We’re dating,” she says quickly before pulling away.
“Oh my God, really?”
“Shh! Not that loud! But yeah... we are.”
“I mean, that kinda crossed my mind when I witnessed your exchange just now,” Ryujin says upon looking down both ends of the hallway to ensure no one else is there. “But I thought maybe you just had a crush on him. Since when?”
“The beginning of this month.”
Ryujin nods again. “Did you tell your company?”
“Yeah. So far, only our families, members and companies know, you’re the first person I’ve told.”
The rapper’s eyes soften as she pulls Juliet into a hug. “Thank you trusting me. You two are really cute together, but I will only support this relationship on one condition.”
Juliet giggles, knowing her friend is simply joking. “Shoot.”
“Please don’t make me third-wheel you guys ever again,” Ryujin pleads. “I felt so awkward standing there while you two flirted with each other.”
“Okay, okay, I promise!”
“Now, I’d tell you to tell me everything, but it seems like there’s somewhere else you need to be,” Ryujin hints cheekily. “So you will call me tonight instead.”
Juliet beams, feeling very lucky to have such an incredible friend. “You know I will.”
“One more question—are you still my wifey, or did Dino-sunbaenim already steal you away from me?”
Juliet can’t help but laugh at how wronged Ryujin sounded before taking her friend’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry, Jinnie, you’ll always be my wifey.”
“Good to know. Now, give me your phone. There’s something I need to do.”
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— bonus!!
Chan reaches the door to SEVENTEEN’s dressing room, already bracing himself for his members’ teasing that will no doubt ensue the moment he steps foot into the room.
As he reaches for the door handle, his phone lights up with a notification.
minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] hello sunbaenim, i just wanted to let you know that she’s still my wifey 😺 please take good care of her! she can be a huge mess sometimes but you probably already knew that 😔 congratulations on the bonsang! - shin ryujin
minnie 🐭❤️ [19:43] aHa anyways 🤡 see you later!! i may be a mess but i’m your mess right 🥺🥺 also please tell seungkwannie-oppa i miss him too!!
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a/n: we stan two besties 🥺🥺 please consider leaving feedback whether it’s a reblog, a reply or an ask, it would mean the absolute world to me as feedback really motivates and supports creators 🥺 and feel free to chat with me about juliet or anything else through my asks!! thank you for reading, remember i’m here for you and have a good day 💕
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Jimmy has no right to *that* hostile (ie downright homophobic). He already almost threw Thomas out onto the street without a reference; if anyone has a right to be scared it’s Thomas; he’s now aware everyone knows he’s gay and he knows at least one or two of those people(one of them being jimmy) would happily throw him under the bus given the chance. He’s literally never been so vulnerable and there’s no need for jimmy to rub it in
Hey Nonny you’re my first official fandom argument! Or you were when I first drafted this over a week ago lol. Since then I've waded into some drama bc I have poor impulse control. Well you're my first argumentative anon still! Do I get a prize, or do you? Have an, um apple of discord: 🍏And I will have one too: 🍏 (Intended tone: genuinely friendly, although if you are not already aware you should know that in fandom spaces messages like these are generally considered hostile acts. Most people don’t want to argue with strangers about why their faves suck, and especially not in response to tags they made about their overwhelmed shippy feelings. (Although I guess if hypothetically you’re the OP of the post I put the tags on and weren’t comfortable with them being on your post that’s admittedly a tough place to be in. Coming to me with your face on and asking me to remove my reblog or the tags because you’re not comfortable with them runs the risk of me being an asshole or taking something in your phrasing badly and starting a big fight. Uh, the chances of that seem rather remote so I’m gonna leave the tags where they are unless OP comes to me and says “I hadn’t wanted to say anything but actually -”.) Anyway I’m not gonna derail this into a long(er than it is) ramble on preferred ways to discuss disagreements in fandom but I might post something like that at a later date.)
God I use way too many parentheses. Apologies to any with a blacklist for Jimmy (do I still have any of those? not sure), obviously I don’t want to put this in the tags. I shall tag this and any further discourse on the subject with “the storyline that shall not be named”. Let’s get (finally) to it!
So, the first thing I wanna say is: yes, Jimmy makes homophobic comments and that’s bad, both because Thomas being gay is not the reason he assaulted Jimmy and because there’s hypothetically a chance someone who doesn’t already know might figure out Thomas’s sexuality based on Jimmy’s comment(s? There's the one before the rope tug and then I could have sworn there was one other one but I'm blanking on what it actually was.)However a) the moment I was commenting on wasn’t one of the homophobic comments and b) I find it important to distinguish between the specific manner of hostility (sometimes homophobic) and the level of hostility (nasty remarks and making a constant point of distancing himself) and the level is in fact 100% warranted. If you think nasty remarks and pointed distancing are more hostile than a person has a right to be towards the guy who sexually assaulted them, then we have a pretty profound disagreement.
As for your other point, regarding fear: Thomas and Jimmy both have very compelling reasons to be afraid of each other but I have to ask exactly what you think Jimmy is “rubbing in?” He initially tried to retaliate excessively against Thomas, backed down from that, and then discovered that instead of facing a reasonable consequence for assaulting him, such as being fired but with a reference that reflected the fact that this was one very bad mistake rather than a pattern*, Thomas was promoted to a position of direct authority over Jimmy. Although Jimmy was bribed into not making a fuss about this rather than, say, threatened, I think he has nonetheless been given a fairly clear message from his employers that they will back the senior coworker who assaulted him against any potential consequence he might try to bring. From Jimmy’s point of view, which is admittedly blinkered by fear and self interest, Thomas is the one in the secure, powerful position and Jimmy is the one extremely vulnerable.
I don't even just mean from his point of view like, ~emotionally. Genuine question: what would happen if Thomas started being overly touchy-feely again, or did worse than that, and Jimmy went to Mr. Carson or Mrs. Hughes or Lord Grantham to report it? I really don't know, and neither does Jimmy. Personally, I'm guessing that whether they believed him would probably depend significantly on things like Jimmy’s demeanor, and exactly what words he used, and basically whether he came across as a victim or as a brat trying to get someone in trouble. And which of those things a person seems like has no particular correlation to the facts of what they’re reporting - as we can see from what happened the first time! Like, Jimmy came off as spiteful and nasty and instead of being fired Thomas was promoted. That is actually what happened! The fact that Jimmy's motives were mixed doesn't change the fact of what Thomas did: Jimmy, when evaluating his safety, has access to one really strong datapoint and that’s that last time the majority of his superiors came down on Thomas’s side, either from the beginning or by the end.
Now, it’s true that he’s had a year to observe Thomas’s behavior and make an educated guess that Thomas really is sorry and won’t do it again. We can only speculate as to what extent he may have reached that conclusion and why he has or hasn’t. Some possible reasons why he might not have: trauma blinkers, homophobic and sexist beliefs, sufficiently bad at reading people to not know what clues to even look for, too self-centered to bother thinking about it in those terms... we don’t know. And perhaps he does know perfectly well that Thomas won't do anything like that again and any lingering fear is of cooties or of people mistaking him for gay and him being in the line of fire along with Thomas next time! You can read him that way if you want. You can say “wtf I see no fear of any kind”. It’s a flexible canon and none of these interpretations are actually contradicted by the text. Indeed I happily read other interpretations and when I babbled in those tags it was more "this is the interpretation I am thinking about right now" than intended to assert it as my One True Headcanon that I will not deviate from. But Jimmy definitely has reasons to be afraid, and of more than cooties.
Of course Thomas also has logical and emotional reasons to be afraid of what Jimmy might do, I'm certainly not denying that. (In fact, one of the things I find so compelling about these two is that they both have such strong reasons not to trust each other and they both reach out anyway.) It seems that Thomas’s belief in who Jimmy is as a person supersedes those reasons (“He wouldn’t be so unkind. Not on his own.”) but if Jimmy has a similar belief about who Thomas he keeps it hidden at least until the fair.
P.S. please reconsider the phrase “has the right to be scared” in every context but especially when discussing someone’s reaction to a situation that involved them being sexually assaulted. I offer you the alternative “logical reason to be scared” or "compelling reason" as perhaps capturing what I hope you meant. I think that’s a language choice that really does matter a fair bit.
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4mph1b10us · 3 years
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korekiiyo shiingujii ana1ysiis
spoii1ers for ndrv3!
iit’s quiite hard to wriite 1iike thiis wiith autocorrect on, so from the 1iine break be1ow ii wii11 not be usiing my typiing quiirk Σ(・口・)
word count (exc1udiing author’s notes): 1,611 words
tota1: 1,717 words
for siimp1iiciity's sake, ii've done thiis on computer so that there's not a wa11 of text
~*~
"You wonder, "Who is this?" Yes... I shall make that clear first. My name is Korekiyo Shinguji... I am called the Ultimate Anthropologist."
~*~
Hello everyone, my name is Milo, and today I’ll be doing my best to cover one of my favorite characters in the Danganronpa universe, Korekiyo Shinguji. He is originally from the 3rd mainline game, New Danganronpa v3: Killing Harmony. Since I don’t physically own the game, I’m basing most of this essay entirely on the Danganronpa Wiki page for Shinguji. Please read that if you desire a more lengthy look at his actions from an unbiased perspective since this one leans more towards empathy than hatred. Whoops!
We first properly meet him after talking to everyone else inside of Hope’s Peak. He’s in the main hall and standing away from the doors leading out to the courtyard. When he introduces himself, Shinguji goes on to talk about anthropology and the beauty of humanity. This proceeds to creep Akamatsu out.
Alongside that, in Chapter 3, we are unfortunately forced to see his relationship with his sister. It’s weird and only gets weirder if you spend two of your Free Time events talking to him when you first play as Akamatsu. He’s evaluated that all girls present at the academy would be great “friends” for his sister, barring Iruma and Harukawa. This is because Shinguji believes that Harukawa doesn’t believe in the power of love, and Iruma is just… well, she’s Iruma. Hardly the girl you would want to send home to your parents.
This weird incest plotline is unfortunately present in most Danganronpa games, such as Leon and his cousin (though one-sided on his cousin’s behalf; he didn’t like her), Tsumugi in the Love Hotel (if you consider that canon), and Monotaro & Monophanie (which is then implemented into Gokuharu’s execution, killing them both).
His sister’s name is never disclosed in-game or in any other Danganronpa media, so the fandom dubbed her “Miyadera/Miyatera,” which is an alternate way of reading Shinguji’s last name. The miya character - represented as 宮 - and tera character - 寺 - are both present in Shinguji, 真宮寺. For the rest of this essay/paper, I’ll be referring to his sister as Miyadera, and himself as Shinguji.
I’ll be getting deeper into his mischaracterization later on, but I want to talk about his appearance for now. Mainly, his hair, his mask, and the lipstick he wears. From what we see of Miyadera in Shinguji’s execution, if that is Miyadera at all, we can see that she had long hair, and when Shinguji was turned into a ghost, it was the exact shade of Shinguji’s hair. From here, we can assume that Miyadera looks exactly, if not similar, to Shinguji.
His lipstick and mask are results of representations of his tulpa, Miyadera. Tulpa is defined as “a concept in mysticism and the paranormal of a being or object which is created through spiritual or mental powers.” In much simpler terms, it is an object or living thing that was created/imagined through spiritual/mental abilities. Shinguji gained a tulpa by being beaten half to death by villagers shortly after arriving there. When he was in a state between life and death, he saw his sister, who joined his subconscious and took control of his body whenever his mask was off. It’s why we only see him take off his make once Saihara dubs him the culprit of Chapter 3, and why his voice suddenly took a more feminine tone. A quote from Miyadera, which can be found in the game, is, "Sweet Korekiyo, calm yourself... Their words are all hollow. There is no meaning to any of them... You must teach these ignorant children a lesson."
That statement can be interpreted two ways, one; that she’s trying to calm him down and two; she’s repeating whatever she said to him during childhood. It’s implied that Miyadera passed away from disease sometime before Killing Harmony takes place, which is both a good and bad thing. It’s great because then we have some time frame of how she was and how she acted when Shinguji knew her best.
Whenever I read the quote above, or any of her quotes, to be honest, I am filled with a sense of dread, or even, despair. The following quote especially makes me feel terrible; "Calm yourself, Korekiyo. You mustn't raise your voice. You mustn't stutter. You mustn't lose composure. You mustn't become flustered. You mustn't waver. Look at their horrid faces. This sorry lot is not worth agonizing over."
Have you noticed how she’s setting guidelines on how to defend himself? She’s turning Shinguji’s attention away from Saihara and the trial and to her because she knows that Shinguji trusts her even after all these years.
You might be wondering, “Milo, what the hell does that all have to do with Shinguji?” And I’ll tell you plain and simple: he was abused by Miyadera. Shocking, I know. Having Shinguji rave and rant about being in love with her, only to be a victim? Sadly, it’s very true indeed. Shinguji was most likely groomed and gaslighted into thinking that Miyadera loved him when that was not the case.
Gaslighting is defined as, “[to] manipulate (someone) by psychological means into questioning their own sanity.” From the two quotes I provided, it doesn’t seem to make sense. Miyadera only sounds like a kind, worrisome older sister. Incorrect, I say. She’s emotionally gaslighting him, trying to make him believe that the trial makes no sense and he shouldn’t worry about any of them. I can also bet she used this tactic to control him as a younger person as well.
It’s a well-known fact that children are both impressionable and gullible. If an older sister figure came up to you as a child and told you to do unmentionable things, unfortunately, you might follow her directions. Shinguji states that his sister was a sickly girl who often stayed in the hospital. When she would come home, he’d be at his easiest to manipulate. Why would his dear, sweet, sickly, older sister ever lie to him?
Next, I’m going to be covering his relationships with other students, namely Shuichi Saihara and Rantaro Amami. These will delve further into spoiler territory, so if you didn’t already read the warnings I put in place, here is your extra warning for spoilers for Chapter 3 of Killing Harmony.
To start with, I’ll be exploring his poorer relationships first. Most of the girls fit into this category, namely Iruma, Harukawa, Chabashira, and Yonaga - that means he has a terrible standing with four of the eight girls present at the beginning of Killing Harmony, five if you count Yumeno’s way of dealing with Chabashira’s murder. Shinguji even taunts her once they solve that mystery, stating, “Let me guess, you’ll never forgive me. Himiko, you must hate me so very much right now. Maybe you’d feel better if I was executed by Monokuma…”
Shinguji has a poor relationship with Iruma and Harukawa due to seeing them as “unfit” to be “friends” with Miyadera. He has a poor relationship with Chabashira because he’s a degenerate male, but he still thinks she made a good friend for his sister. His poor relationship with Yonaga is shown in Chapter 3 when Yonaga forms the student council. Once again, I’m making amends to some parts of the characters. I’ll be referring to Yonaga’s god as God, simply because Atua is an actual Polynesian god in real life. Shinguji doesn’t worship any god, and so wants to study Yonaga’s God purely for anthropologic purposes. This displeases Yonaga, who then states that God's business hours are closed for the day. In Chapter 3 when Yumeno brings up Yonaga’s God, he simply asks whether or not they’re done talking about it, cementing his distrust in faith.
Next, I’ll cover his better relationships. Akamatsu isn’t too terribly creeped out by him and instead sees Shinguji as a kind guy who cares about his sister. Akamatsu even apologizes for saying that Shinguji would be into inc*st, this event either taking place in his first or second Free Time event. I’m saving his and Saihara’s relationship for last since I’ll have the most to write about then. Instead, please enjoy the news that in the events of Ultimate Talent Development Plan (UTDP for typing purposes), Shinguji and Amami are actually great friends. In Amami’s first free time event, he tells Akamatsu that Korekiyo has a strong personality, but she’ll be able to understand him plenty if she takes time to. It’s also stated that Amami emphasizes that Shinguji is also the calm and clever type.
Lastly, I’ll be exploring his relationship with Saihara. It’s slightly rocky, if only because Shinguji hasn’t let go of his sister yet, but it’s miles better than his relationship with Chabashira. Slight side note before we begin, I’ll be discounting the Love Hotel scene mostly because I’m a minor and I don’t feel completely comfortable having to watch that simply because I’m writing an analysis. As the game progresses to Chapter 3, Shinguji and Saihara have built trust between themselves. While Saihara still found Shinguji creepy, he [Saihara] never discounted him simply for existing. There was even a point where Shinguji offered to help Saihara communicate with Akamatsu from beyond the grave, though he was turned down.
Korekiyo Shinguji is a misunderstood and somewhat tragic character who usually gets disregarded and uncredited all because people do not like him. However he’s not an “uwu soft twamatized bean <3” either. He’s a strong character who has questionable morals at best and a terrible representation of an abused character at worst.
~*~
thank you for readiing!! p1ease make sure to get a hea1thy amount of s1eep and that you do have a cup of water and some food, you deserve iit!!
sources:
- https://danganronpa.fandom.com/wiki/Korekiyo_Shinguji
- https://www.quotev.com/story/7873923/Danganronpa-Class-Trials/73 (siide note: how fucked up iis iit that ii was on1y ab1e to fiind a transcriiptiion of the triia1 on quotev)
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babi-correia · 4 years
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What Could Have Been (Part 3)
Words: 1383
Warnings: flashbacks, memories of combat situations
Part 1 | Part 2
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Jay is awfully quiet on the ride back, and it annoys Voight to no end.
“Who’s that woman?” His gruff voice breaks the silence, making Jay blink before looking at him. “You heard me.”
“I have no idea, honestly. She looks vaguely familiar and her name rings a bell, but I can’t put my finger on it.” Jay admits, more confused than he’d like to be. “What’s the break on the case?”
“We arrested a suspect.” Voight says vaguely, parking the car and exiting, Jay hot on his trail. “He’s up in the interrogation room.”
The two of them trot up the stairs and Platt can barely cover her smile when she sees Jay strutting in, knowing what he’ll find upstairs. Jay makes his way to the hallway of the interrogation room, finding Ruzek waiting for him.
“He’s inside.” Adam says, opening the door slightly. “Caught him for stealing a truck-load of blu-rays.”
Jay can barely believe his eyes when he sees his best friend standing in the middle of the interrogation room, still in his military uniform. He wraps him in a tight hug, silently thanking whoever had listened for getting Mouse back home safe and sound.
“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” Jay asks, breaking apart to take a better look at Mouse. Other than some new wrinkles and eyebags, he looks just like when he last saw him.
“I wanted to do one of those cliché surprises, and since I don’t have a girlfriend, you were my next best option.” He says, shrugging before checking his watch. “Isn’t it time for you guys to go home for the day? I’m starving and could use some dinner company.”
“We have some things to wrap up, but Jay, go with him.” Voight commands, shooing the two men away with his hand.
The two of them take Jay’s car, grabbing some take-away before heading to Jay’s apartment. They eat as they catch up with each other, Mouse taking some pictures out of his duffle.
“I found some people from our original deployments.” He says, swallowing his food. “They had pictures and gave me copies. There’s even pictures of the last mission on Korengal Valley.”
Jay looks at him as he lays the pictures on the table, spreading them out. He zeroes in on a picture of the two of them with a girl in their middle, recognizing her face. He snatches the photo, looking at the back.
‘Halstead, Peacemaker, and Mouse. First day of Operation Deft Hawk.’
“Peacemaker?” Jay asks, earning a puzzled look from Mouse. “Who is this girl?”
“What do you mean?” Mouse asks, setting down his plate as he takes the photo back from Jay. “This is (Y/N)… You don’t remember her?”
“Should I?”
“Should you? Yeah, you should. The two of you were thick as thieves on the field. The three of us were nicknamed ‘The Three Musketeers’ because we were always together. She was there when… you know. She helped me get you to safety before going back for other people, except she didn’t come back.” Mouse explains, watching as Jay’s mental cogs start to spin.
“She’s in Chicago.” Jay finally mutters, looking at Mouse. “She’s a firefighter. Do you have any other pictures of her?”
Mouse digs around further, grabbing one last photo and handing it to Jay. He takes it in his hands gingerly, his fingers tracing the border of the paper. He saw himself in the photo, hugging you from behind, the two of you laughing at the photographer.
“I took that picture.” Mouse says, wringing his hands together. “It was the day before the attack.”
Jay grips the photo as memories come flooding back, his eyes wide.
“Hey, Mouse, get the camera!” Jay calls out, pulling you by the back of your belt. “Come here, you little devilish jarhead, let’s take a picture.”
“Call me a jarhead again and I swear to whatever measly God is listening to us right now that I’m gonna kick your ass in several different ways.” You snap at him as he hugs you at your waist, pulling you to him. You turn your face and press it to his, the two of you smiling widely as Mouse takes the photo, giving you a thumbs up.
“But you are a jarhead.” Jay whispers to you, earning an offended gasp as you jump on his back, locking your legs around his waist as your arms put him in a headlock.
“Call me that again, Halstead, I fucking dare you.” You whisper against his ear, giving him a squeeze as he grabs at your arm with both hands.
“Alright sweetheart, don’t kill me please.” He laughs, feeling you let go of his neck and hop to the floor.
“Only because you’re cute and I happen to like you.”
Jay looks at Mouse, who is already staring at him worriedly.
“Did we date?” Jay asks, everything suddenly making sense. You remembered those moments and he didn’t: when you saw him, you were taken back and flooded with memories, just like he was. Mouse chuckles and shakes his head.
“Everyone thought you did, but you didn’t.”
“She didn’t come back with us, did she?”
“…No. She was MIA for a while, after she went back to the Valley to rescue more soldiers.” Mouse says, poking the food left in his plate with his fork. “Nobody really knows what happened. She popped back in base after a few months, she was cleared to keep serving, did another tour, and then came back home. What firehouse is she on?”
“Firehouse 51. I saw her twice today alone. I kept thinking that I knew her from somewhere, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
“I have to go and visit her, then.” Mouse remarks, stretching his arms. “She stayed in touch with me during this tour. I have no idea how she knew I was back overseas, but she did.”
The two men share a beer before Jay heads back to his room, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling as memories of his last mission with you come flooding in. He fixates one, of the last time he saw you; a memory he didn’t know he had until now.
“Put that fucking gun down.” You yell at another Ranger, going towards the girl until Jay grabs your arm. You look at him, the silent question obvious on your face.
“Don’t go any closer. We don’t know what could come of that.” He says, watching you nod as you turn back to the girl, starting to speak in Pashto. You uncover your face and raise your hands, and Jay assumes you’re introducing yourself as you had just said your own name.
The girl says something in Pashto that makes the few interpreters flinch seconds before the missiles can be heard.
“Everyone, get back!” He can hear you shout as 4 missiles come down on their convoy.
Jay’s consciousness flickers, and he can tell he’s being dragged. He gradually comes to, seeing Mouse at his left and you at his right, both of you pretty roughed up. They lay him down on some dunes, and you grab his face and check in on him.
“Mouse, take care of him.” You say, getting up. Jay can see the right side of your uniform painted red with blood that he notices to be yours as soon as he sees the shrapnel on your hip. “I’m sure there were more survivors, I’m going back for them.”
“(Y/N)…” Jay makes himself rasp, your head snapping in his direction immediately as you take his outstretched hand in both of yours.
“Jay, hush. You’re going to be ok. There’s a camp not far from here, Mouse can get you there on his own. The soldiers back there weren’t as lucky as us, I have to go and help them.” You explain, the look on your face disarming him completely.
“You’re hurt.” He says, looking at your hip. You look at it as well, shrugging.
“If I can carry your fat ass back here, I can carry a few others as well.” You say, giving him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll see the two of you on the other side.”
Except you never did.
@thexplosivegirl​ | @godohammers​ | @savingprivatecass​ | @princxss-fia | @fullwattpadmusictree​ | @bethii1​ | @doramstr​ | @annaallicce​ | @hehurst23​ | @dreamslove92 | @lostsoulwalking | @magicxshadows​ | @lookatallthefeels | @miranda0102​ | @killjoys-make-some-noise-na-na​ | @corebore123​ | @talicat713​ | @jayxuptons​ | @detectiveinchicago​ | @smallfandomtrash​ 
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rataltouille · 3 years
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BONFIRE, BONFIRE!: A COLLECTION OF FLASH FICTION + POETRY
so i’ve decided to compile all twenty [these will be split into two so that the post isn’t super long] of the writing pieces i’ve done for my random celebration into one post so that it’s easier to read / access share!! you can also find it here, all put into one work, on wattpad, because i feel nostalgic about that website and decided to just post it!!
NOTE: i know that this shouldn't need to be said, but these 20 pieces belong to me so please don’t copy/repurpose it for your writing!! i plan on using these somewhere in my own writing and either way they’re stuff i’ve written so don’t use them!!
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1. cooking + destructive + purple from @andiwriteunderthemoon [also i kind of cheated with this prompt and asked my sis @dreamscanbenightmarestoo for ideas and so the base idea’s from her!!]
I didn’t mean to set my house on fire, alright?
Let me set the scene: I’m sitting in my room, watching the infomercials that blur together, and suddenly there’s a bright purple flash on the glitching screen: /grapes/. They’re shiny, plump, and oh? A recipe for fine wine? Don’t mind if I do. So I pop into my kitchen and cut the grapes, dice them up, finally using the knife after years of not cooking— /mother, are you proud of me now?/— and stick the soft, luminescent fluid into a glass bottle. Following each step of the recipe.
The recipe didn’t mention an explosion.
Destruction rained around my house like a meteor shower. The bubbles from the fluid, frisking up at contact with metal, swam across my shoes and into the living room. It touched the TV, which still flashed the recipe, which I was still cursing at. And then, you know, it burnt up. The couch scorched first, I think. So that was fun. I later realised that I’d used my reserve of petroleum, which I’d put in my kitchen cabinet, instead of vinegar. I think I’ve got to move back in with my mother again.
2. running + quiet + sky blue from @kryskakikomi [i have no idea what this is i drafted this in a fever dream state]
Summer crawled up his skin like a worm. He was seated at his dining table, crosswording his way through the sticky morning, when it struck him that the humidity was new. He’d been caught in summer before, of course, but this year was different. His parents had whisked away to their hometown, and he still didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed to go. He loved their home— he could have been running on beach sand and waves could have cruised over his feet, and his face would reflect sky blue under palm trees. Instead he sat doodling and scratching at cement walls in a quiet that nagged at his ears, grappling his flesh like a fishing hook, reeling him in. Boredom, him sister told him, before she also left for someone’s home. What would you know? he whispered once the door latched from the outside. Maybe /she’d/ like to sit on the same wooden chair, all the pink paint worn out, and scratch out squares of empty text until the pen poked through the other hand. He scoffed. At least he knew the number of scars on the wood; he could hold that over her when his parents returned.
3. hallucinate + hazy + violet from @chloeswords [i wanted to write something dreamy and ethereal but everytime i look at your url i’m reminded of church mud and indirectly my religious trauma so here we are 🤡]
We hold the book in our arms and chant for God. We don’t know what he looks like. They say that he’s sharp, never pixelating or blurring or showing through, like a hazy image would. No, children, our family says, he will come clothed in gold and velvet— the colour a deep and rich crimson, or chartreuse. And of course, he weaves a violet into his hair. Because he is just that humble. Just that gentle. Loving.
We’ve almost understood now. Pray, clasp our palms together into a transient equinox, and pray. Maybe he will shine down on us. Maybe we will speak so loud and chant so long that our lips will chap. Maybe we’ll simply hallucinate him to salve our bones. Our family says, he will bless you. And so he will.
4. halcyon + pluviophile + beige from anon [i was yearning for cats i am a cat person i love cats]
I remember my life before I moved to London,
Those halcyon days that I spent scooping up cat litter and brushing warm fur,
Being a mother to beige and white and black little felines.
They keep better company than humans.
Now I’m a self-proclaimed businesswoman, artist, influencer, pluviophile,
Even when I’ve barely stepped foot outside during the rain,
[But it needs to be said that when it rains in London, it pours].
I think I’d like to open a cat cafe;
I’m rich enough to pull it off.
5. sing + vulnerable + olive green from @occiidens [this was actually super fun to write because it’s a break from the typically unhinged stories i gravitate towards]
You watch from the highest hill of your town, hand wrapped around the serrated wood of a red oak tree. The bark pokes into your flesh, drawing blood that shouldn’t have been taken from you. You scowl. Just another thing that lives to cause you pain.
Three storeys down is a young man, short and smiling and lovely. He has dark skin and darker hair, walking with the stride of a deer, and he’s smiling; the joy reflects onto your face, even though you can’t hear him. He wears a cotton shirt, the olive green stark against the fire-blue sky. You call out, sing his name, three times in a row.
When he finally looks up, squinting as you silhouette under the sun, the smile widens. A wave. You’re suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Your palm digs into the bark until the wound is freshly dug again, the skin supple and vulnerable. You want to wave, but your hands would look so awkward, and the blood wouldn't help. So you turn on your heel and run— why are you so awkward?— and the grass around you is brighter. This is now a tomorrow issue, you conclude. You’re still smiling.
6. dislocate + ostentatious + blood red from @oasis-of-you [this got really unhinged really fast. TW: body horror]
If you take a turn at Finn Avenue,
Rogue your way down a blood red river,
[It’s not actual blood, do not worry. The colour’s a pigment and it’s saturated enough to give you the texture, the touch, the taste of blood, but I repeat, it isn’t true blood. You might think that it’s ostentatious of us to make you cross a river like that, but you’ll understand why.]
And if can stick your fingers inside the fluid,
You’ll find a bone.
Don’t pull it out fully! Only observe.
[This is a real bone, most likely animal. We may be ominous, but we don’t hurt humans. Not yet.]
So what do you do now? You want passage into a better world.
You came here because you saw the brochure, the flyer,
Radiant Idyll, home for love, but you also saw the jutting anatomy that leads to the city. The pictures were rather clear.
Why do you look so surprised? We’ve put this on the brochure— don’t you ever read the fine print?— to avoid this exact situation. That you would cross a body, a skeleton, pooled over in a fluid that we don’t name, but it’s probably alive.
It’s watching you right now.
So what do you do now?
Hurry up, unhinge your arm, dislocate the elbow, drop it into the blood, forgive me, false blood, and pay for your passage.
Oh! Excellent; that’s record time. We do hope you enjoy your stay!
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1. @noteaboy [i’ve interpreted your url as ”note, a boy”]
There’s an orange tree. It’s spring, and there’s an orange tree, and it brims with fruit and citrus perfume. Point your lens flare downwards, and note, a boy. A young man, perhaps, because he combs his hair, uptight and firm, and he wears a tie. A long suit. He doesn’t look up, because his hand holds a book. /He/ holds the book, not the hands— tenderness doesn’t translate through anatomy, I’ve taught you this before. He’s waiting for someone. There’s only the rustle of leaves. He drops the book onto the lap of the tree, crushing the apple that had fallen down. Orange, not apple. Take note better. You only have one chance to get this right.
2. @eatingjupiter [your url is so beautiful omg]
The goddess had said this before she died: you need to watch over him. He needs your sentry to survive. The goddess’ words weren’t heeded. Little baby Jupiter tottered on lava as him parents small-talked with their kingdom. Well, it must have been small talk, because nothing seemed to happen afterwards other than his mother’s face collapsing in agony, anger, annoyance. He knew not to touch them then. He’d fly off into the sun one day, but if his hands were but and charred, he wouldn’t survive even a third of the journey.
The prophecy was simple: the firstborn to the kingdom will metamorph into a celestial, purify themselves so that only stardust remains. Live in the sky forever. The astrologers were baffled; you don’t just become a star. They should have heeded the goddess.
Jupiter was sixteen when he expanded and collapsed all at once. He still lives, they say, and the astrologers /were/ right, in a way: people just don’t become stars. They become almost empty space. Nobody knows if his hands were burnt when they left earth’s orbit forever.
3. @laughtracksonata [your name gave me slight horror vibes idk why!!]
Hahaha. The Horror Movie (don’t ask me for a name, I’m not good with those), with its cymbal crashing and plastic sounds, it’s so loud and scary that it hurts, father. Please turn it off.
Father doesn't listen. I shiver on the couch. The screen flickers like radio static and reflects off our wide eyes. What kind of a home is this anyway? I don’t want to fucking listen to a laugh track or a horror VHS tape or watch the bass crescendo as the serial killer jumpscares the watcher. I don’t think that having hour pupils glued to the same blood-splattered movie, with the same recording looping in his eardrums will help him. He laughs along, sometimes. It’s scary. Father needs a new hobby.
PART TWO COMING SOON!!
anyway this got REALLY long so i’m posting the third prompt group, the one based on songs, as a second part in some time. i hope you enjoy this, and PLEASE do boost!! i spent a lot of time writing these pieces and am pretty proud of them :’)
general taglist: @lovingyou-is @guulabjamuns @andiwriteunderthemoon @coffeeandcalligraphy @melonmilk @silentlylostwriter @charles-joseph-writes @eklavvya @eowynandfaramir @bitterwitchwrites @laughtracksonata @whatwordsdidnttouch @indeliblewrites @thenataliawrites @summersguilt @illimani-gibberish @sarahkelsiwrites @writing-in-delirium @shaelinwrites @sienna-writes @chewingthescenery @jennawritesstories @chloeswords @aelenko @keira-is-writing @cherylinanika @infinitely-empty-pages @jmtwrites @august-iswriting @freedelusionbanana @beetleblue88 @mistercaleb @iwannawritepls @hanwatchingmovies @mortallynuttyqueen @idratherliveinnarnia @maisulli @thegreyboywrites @ahowlinwolf @ravens-and-rivers @oasis-of-you @yanittawrites @chazza-writes-sometimes @skyfirewrites @lovebenders @treybriggsthewriter @themidnxghtwriter @ash-karter @queen-devasena @a-procrastination-addict @gaymityblight @beyondthebracken @madmaxst26 @adielwrites @moonpixxel @hollow-knight-dnd @keep-looking-here @overlap @ashleygarciawrites @ryns-ramblings​ @wordsbynathan @novaemlynlewis​ @sophiewritingstuff​ @howdy-writes​ @occiidens​ @nsanelyawkward​ @viawrites-andacts​
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the-slasher-files · 3 years
Text
My Verisons - Slashers pt 1
INCLUDES JASON
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Just my opinion. Everyone interprets them differently but this is how I see the slashers. Some of this is based specifically on a certain movie in a series or could be just inspiration I’ve gotten from other writers. If you read my writing this will probably make sense of them, just seeing things from my perspective. This includes if they can talk, appearance, how you met, how/why you are together, nature/character, dead or alive or both, etc. Also please let me know if you feel the same or have different opinions! I am always curious about how others see them! 
JASON VOORHEES
appearance:
I adore the look of Jason from part 7 and Manhattan with classic elements. The size and shape perfect from those movies. However, to me, Jason would wear worn out jeans and some sort of button up with a utility belt of some kind, closer resembling the outfit from part 6. He always wears his work or hiking boots. Also probably always wears his gloves while outside
To me, Jason is more alive than dead, but just with the regeneration powers. He has very heavy scarring on half of his face that goes down his neck and side. Some wounds you don't think will ever heal still remain. On his back he is scarred by god knows what could be from defending the camp, or from the decomposition process. It looked like he had been attacked by a bear. Some wounds exposing the muscle and some you could see bone. 
His skin is a greyish colour but you can still tell there is some kind of blood flow because of his ability to get hard, plus I feel sometimes he might blush
His dick is a big one to put it frank lol. like 8 inches and thick. He doesn't have any hair down there or really anywhere.
his nature/character:
I honestly believe if you manage to get on his good side, he is such a sweet person. No matter what baggage you come with he will never judge because he was bullied and tormented. 
I feel he might have some form of mental illness because of his past and loneliness from not having anyone around. (separation anxiety, abonnement issues, maybe some depression in the winter)  
Once he has his person, he will never let go and the thought of losing you is literally crippling. It is his worst fear, so he does everything in his power to make you safe and stay with him.
He will listen to absolutely everything and try to understand everything from your perspective, except when it comes to your safety that is his number one priority even if it makes you upset.  
He is a very hard worker 
Extremely respectful of his person, whether it’s of their space or stuff, it doesn’t matter
A very gentle giant with you. I would use the expression “he would never hurt a fly” but we all know that is not the truth
I feel he might have a creative side to him, maybe it’s writing since he can’t express himself fully, maybe he can really draw, maybe it’s woodworking, I could even see him playing an acoustic guitar that he had stolen. He is completely self-taught
He is extremely curious about everything except other humans or the city
He also thinks Humans are a waste, all they do is destroy, fuck and hurt one another. Not to mention what they do to his woods
Big animal lover. I feel like he might have taken a dog once from the campers he murdered.
I think he is pretty sensitive to noise. Hates loud music or loud trucks, even if you have the tv a little loud he finds it distracting and disorienting
Extreme temper, as we know. If he ever gets mad at you he will likely walk it off, but sometimes if you push him enough dom Jason comes out. Fucking you against the wall with the machete at your neck, but after he would feel terrible. 
This leads into the next topic but he is 100% the strong, silent type - They're silent not because they have nothing to say, but because they don't have to fill up the air with words. They don't need to be looked at to dominate. They already dominate, just by looking at themselves, but they're serene about it. 
Can he talk?  
For some reason, I have always thought that maybe he could talk, but only short small words extremely few and far between. I don’t really think he can express himself fully even if he wanted to. He wouldn’t raise his voice above a low talk. If you were in danger he would never call your name or yell.
He might whisper “I love you” or give you small pet names but he would use them sparingly  
How you guys met/how you were caught:
So I have had this idea for a while, and I think it would make sense, but you have to be a brave person to be with him. So my idea is that your family owned a cabin on Crystal Lake but in the 80s when the killings began your family would never go back until you inherited it. The cabin sat for a long time, unused, rotting away. 
You drove up there to look at it, and you took it upon yourself to pretty much redo the whole thing and fix up the woodland that surrounded it. As you did this it was early spring into summer. You knew you were being watched and followed. However, you were never scared of this presence, it was almost like a protective energy. You almost welcomed it. Sometimes you could see him just watching and observing, sometimes you tried to follow him. 
Having had the cabin being abandoned it was pretty secluded and overgrown but, there were other cabins across the lake. Yours was the closest to the camp, it was still about 5 miles, but you could hear the screams in the night from teens at the camp. Being a very resourceful person you had set your own security traps and tripwires. You had even put up trail cams where you saw him walking so you could match up the times to murders. Sure enough, It was defiantly him. The killer. The murderer of Camp Crystal Lake. Why were you never afraid of him? Why had you never felt in danger in his presence? 
One day you were so tired from doing repairs, you drifted asleep while watching the clouds pass by. When you woke up he was standing there above you with his head tilted, almost making sure you were ok. Your eyes hit his and he stumbled backwards, he caught one of your tripwires. It landed him on his ass for the first time in years, caught off guard and not knowing what to do next. 
You two just stared at each other. “Hey, it’s ok. I know who you are,” You spoke to him. He had almost forgotten what soft voices sounded like. All he heard were the screams of his victims. “Jason? You are him” He was shocked. Stunned. “It’s ok” You explained seeing his confusion. 
Long before you moved out here you knew about him, heard the stories, read the news articles, spoke to the people of the small surrounding community. “Jason” you spoke again to him, not breaking eye contact. He didn’t know if he should run or just kill you to stop the conflicting feelings. The name you spoke he had not heard in years. It brought back a lot of odd feelings, pain, enjoyment, memories. 
As he sat there, you were not going to pry at him. You stood up from the ground dusting yourself off, looking away for a minute before placing your eyes to where he should have been but, he was gone. 
For months after that he would stare at you from the bushes, just observing. Sometimes he would stand close enough to touch you, but he didn’t. You never wanted to push him, so you just talk to him from the distance even if he never said a word back. It took a full year before he allowed you to touch him. Almost like a stray beaten dog, time, trust, and space were all needed, and maybe some encouragement by making your naked body visible to him through the windows.   
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remywrites5 · 4 years
Note
can you do some jegulus?
           James was sitting on his bed playing FIFA when his roommate, Regulus, came in and slammed the door shut. Reg was clearly upset so James quickly paused the game and watched as Reg went over to his bed and flopped down onto it. He put his face into his pillow and let out a scream.
           James walked over and poked Reg in the back. “Problem?”
           Reg turned his face to the side and looked up at him. “I just saw Barty at the campus coffeeshop flirting with one of the baristas.”
           “Ah,” James said, nodding in understanding. Reg and Barty had been talking for the last few months after hooking up at a campus party. James didn’t really see the appeal but he had kept his mouth shut because he wanted Regulus to be happy. Barty always seemed to come off as a prick and James was pretty sure Reg wasn’t the only person he was talking to.
           In truth, James had a complicated relationship with Reg himself. Reg’s twin brother, Sirius, was James’ best friend and they had roomed together for the first year of University. But then Sirius met Remus and fell in love, blah blah blah, and now they were rooming together. Having been out a roommate, James had agreed to room with Reg. The only problem was James had been crushing on Reg for over a year now, so rooming wasn’t exactly the best idea, but James Potter liked to be accommodating. Also he didn’t have a good enough reason to tell Reg no.
           Since then it had been a bit torturous watching Regulus talk to a bunch of guys who were, in James’ honest opinion, a bunch of wankers. They might have been perfectly nice guys, but James had no choice except to loathe them entirely.
           That’s why James said the thing – the completely idiotic thing  - that he would immediately regret. “You want to make him jealous?”
           Regulus sat up and looked at James in confusion. “How?”
           “He follows you on Snapchat, right?” James said with a grin. “We could take a couple of pictures and post them to your story. When he sees them I bet he’ll be hella jealous and come crawling back.”
           “You’d do that for me?” Regulus asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow at James.
           “I mean nothing too risqué,” James clarified quickly. He didn’t think his heart would be able to handle that. “Just, you know, pictures that could be interpreted as us getting pretty cozy with each other.”
           “That would be amazing!” Regulus exclaimed excitedly. He hopped out of bed and went over to James’ closet.
           “What are you doing?” James asked, sitting down on his bed and watching as Regulus rifled through his stuff. Reg held a few pieces of clothing up to himself in the mirror and decided on James’ team hoodie from his football days. It was in his old high school colours, red and gold, and had Potter written on the back. Reg stripped off his own shirt and tugged the hoodie on.
           James had a good ten centimeters on Reg and was a lot more muscular and broad shouldered than his roommate. What this meant that Reg was swimming in his hoodie a little bit with it falling to his mid-thigh. James swallowed thickly as his heart relocated to his throat. Suddenly James realized just how incredibly dumb he was for thinking that he could pull this off without Reg finding out how gone James was on him.
           Reg bit his lip and played with his hair for a moment in the mirror before turning to face James. “How do I look?”
           James cleared his throat. “Really good,” he said as evenly as he could manage.
           Regulus smiled and walked over to the bed. He grabbed James and moved his limbs into the position he wanted. James let out a yelp of surprise as Reg crawled into his lap and buried his face in James’ neck. “Do you mind taking it?”
           James took Reg’s phone and opened it easily. They both knew each other’s codes for their phone for emergency purposes. James held the phone out to get a good angle, making sure his name was visible on Reg’s back, for entirely selfish reasons. “Glasses or no glasses?” he asked before he took the picture.
           “Glasses,” Reg said softly. “I think you look sexy in them.”
           “Yeah they help me see,” James responded dumbly because his mind had apparently decided to go offline without his permission.
           Regulus laughed and slid his arms around James’ waist. “Just take a couple and we’ll adjust as needed.”
           “Okay,” James said, resting his chin on the top of Reg’s head. He’d never really though he’d had a thing for a height difference but he found himself really enjoying it. Reg felt so small and soft in his arms and James felt this overwhelming want to protect him. Although he knew if Reg could hear what he was thinking then he would hit him for it.
           James snapped a couple of pictures and then handed the phone off to Reg to see. Reg sat up straight and looked through them, taking his time to examine each one. “I think I like this one best, what do you think?” Reg held up his phone and displayed the picture to James.
           “Looks great,” James said encouragingly. He let his fingers play with the hem of his hoodie that Reg was wearing, his fingers just barely brushing over Reg’s warm skin.
           “Can I kiss you?”
           James felt his entire body tense up at the question. ‘What?”
           “It would really sell it, don’t you think?” Reg asked, chewing his bottom lip as he posted the picture to his story. “Or would it sell it too much? I kind of want him to come crawling back like you said.”
           “Oh, um, I think that might be taking it too far,” James said, sliding Reg off his lap and standing up. The last thing he needed was to be snogging Reg just so he could get that prick back. Why did he want his attention in the first place?
           “It would just be one kiss,” Reg promised, looking up at James pleadingly. “Just one little kiss and nothing more.”
           “I said no, Reg!” James yelled, tugging his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to, okay? I don’t want to do that.”
           “Then that’s all you had to say,” Regulus said icily, narrowing his eyes at James. “This was all your stupid idea to begin with.”
           “Well you got your picture,” James shot back, grabbing his wallet and keys and shoving his feet into his trainers. Suddenly their dorm room felt so small and if he stayed he was going to say something he would regret. He couldn’t handle any of this, especially not with Reg still wearing his hoodie. Why did he have to go around trying to help people all the time? “So leave it, Reg.”
           “Fine, I’m leaving it.” Reg lowered his eyes to the floor. He stood and went over to his own bed, pulling the covers up to his chin with his back to James.
           James slipped out of their dorm, locking it behind him, and starting to walk with no real destination in mind. Why the fuck did he have to be so bloody awkward around Regulus? Why couldn’t he have just kissed him like it was no big deal? It would have been easy to pretend it was just a game like spin the bottle. Now Regulus had to know that it meant something to James and it would make everything uncomfortable.
           James sat down on the front steps of their student housing and buried his face in his hands, pushing his glasses up to his forehead. After giving himself a few moments to wallow, he opened his phone and pulled up Snapchat. He immediately went to Reg’s story and saw the picture of the two of them. He kept reopening it so that he could look at it over and over. It looked so real that it made James’ heart ache in a way it hadn’t since high school when Lily Evans had rejected him over and over. Since then, he liked to think he’d been a bit smarter with his heart, but apparently not that smart.
           “You fucking dumbass,” James groaned to himself.
                                                           ***
           James figured their picture had worked based on that fact that Reg started hanging out with that prat, Barty, again. James would come home to find Reg and Barty cuddled up together watching Netflix on Reg’s bed. James had no problem ruining their evening, turning on his game or doing his homework at his desk, so they couldn’t fool around.
           Things hadn’t really improved between Reg and James since the night they’d taken that picture. James had found his hoodie hanging back in his closet and it had clearly been washed. James had no idea why the idea of that made him so extremely angry. Maybe it was the fact that Reg had been too much of a coward to give it back to James directly. Instead he had just hidden it back in James’ closet and erased any trace that he had worn it in the first place.
           James tried to move on so that things could get back to normal. He got Tinder again and went on a few dates with a very nice girl named Mary McDonald. It felt disingenuous to continue to see her though so he ended things as gently as he could. As terrible as it was to admit, being with Mary wasn’t making James feel any better about being in love with his roommate. It was unfair to her to pursue anything while he still had feelings for Reg.
           He couldn’t help thinking about that night and would have happened if he had taken Reg up on his offer to kiss. Would things have been even more awkward once Reg realized just how into it James was? Or maybe it would have been the start of something – something so precious that it made James hurt just to think about it.
                                                           ***
           “Will you please – for the love of God – stop being such a pathetic mess?” Sirius begged, tousling James’ hair playfully. “We’re on our way to a party not a funeral!”
           James did his best to smile and nudged his best friend. “I guess I’m just still distraught that you’re not in love with me.”
           Sirius snorted. “Tough luck, Prongs. I don’t go for speccy gits with no fashion sense.”
           “Remus wears reading glasses.”
           “It just hits different,” Sirius assured him, throwing his arm around James’ shoulders. “Besides, I have a feeling your type is me only worse and with less personality.”
           “Shut up,” James grumbled, feeing his face grow hot.
           “So you do have a thing for Reg!” Sirius crowed with laughter, hitting James on the chest. “I had a feeling. That picture the two of you took was a little too convincing. You looked so fucking smitten in it, I swear to God.”
           “Doesn’t matter,” James muttered, kicking a pebble by his feet. “It was just a means to an end. He’s with Barty now. What a dumb name. Barty. It sounds like a stupid children’s show character.”
           “You’re thinking of Barney,” Sirius corrected him with an amused huff. “Besides, the bloke got stuck with a name like Bartemius. I don’t think there’s many ways to salvage that.”
           “I kind of hate him,” James confessed, feeling himself relax a little bit. It was nice to be able to talk with Sirius about this finally.
           “He does seem like a dickhead,” Sirius agreed with a heavy sigh. “Reg always did know how to pick them.”
           “So you’re saying I have no shot with him?”
           Sirius shot James a look. “I don’t know, you have your arsehole qualities.”
           “Oi!”
           “It all comes from a place of love, Jamie!” Sirius insisted, giving James a big wet kiss on the cheek. They got to the street corner where they were meeting up with Remus, who was coming off a shift at work. Remus was already there waiting for them, wrapped up in a scarf against the cold, his cheeks tinged pink. “Now why would I want you when I can have that?”
           Sirius bounded over to his boyfriend and put his arms around his shoulders. Remus gave him an exasperated but fond look and indulged him in a kiss. James shook his head and walked over to join them, third wheeling it as usual. “Alright, Moony?”
           “Hey James,” Remus said, smiling kindly at him. “Excited for the party?”
           “Well alcohol couldn’t hurt, right?” James joked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
           Remus’ brow furrowed in concern. “He’s in love with Reg,” Sirius explained, sliding his hand down Remus’ arm and then grasping his hand. He tugged on it and began walking towards the party.
           Remus glanced over his shoulder and shot James a sympathetic look. “If you ever need to come over to ours just let us know, okay?”
           “Thanks Remus,” James said, falling in step behind them. “I’ll be fine.”
           Remus nodded encouragingly even if his face said he didn’t fully believe James. “Of course you will.”
           They were only a few blocks away from the party and James could already hear the music blasting some early 2000’s hip hop. It was the Prewett twins birthday party bash. The twins were a year older than James, Remus and Sirius, and their birthday party was always legendary. They lived in a shared house off campus with about six other guys and were always doing crazy shite. Last year they had rigged up a slide from their second story window. The party usually got broken up because of noise complaints but until then it was a blast.
           They got to the front door and were each handed a beer. It was policy for a Prewett party that you had to shotgun a beer in order to ender. James and Sirius grinned at each other and both pierced their beers before starting to chug them. They were both fairly competitive with each other and tried to beat the other. Of course Remus smoked them both easily and Sirius could only wink suggestively. “My man knows what he’s doing.”
           Remus rolled his eyes and led the way into the party, already unwrapping his scarf from the heat from all the bodies piled inside. “Oh my god they have a trampoline,” Sirius said, smacking James in the arm. Out the back porch door they could see a huge trampoline set up on the lawn and people were jumping off the balcony onto it and then back up. “We have to!”
           “Absolutely not!” Remus said, shaking his head emphatically. “I don’t fancy going to hospital tonight.”
           Sirius pouted for a moment and then turned to James. “You in, Prongs?”
           “Yeah!” James said, needing something to get his mind off of things. A huge adrenaline rush seemed like it would do the trick.
           James and Sirius raced up the stairs to the second story balcony. “Alright there, lads?” Gideon greeted them as they went through the window. “Feeling brave tonight?”
           “Definitely!” James said, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly.
           “Just have to go one at a time,” Gideon informed them. “Don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
           Sirius turned towards James and they did a quick rock-paper-scissors to see who would go first. James won and stepped up to the edge of the balcony. He took a deep breath and jumped, his stomach dropping as he fell through the air. Then it was like he was falling in slow motion as his eyes locked on none other than Barty Crouch Jr. snogging someone that was definitely not Reg. He hit the trampoline and went back up, his body flopping around like a ragdoll for a moment before dropping back down again.
           “What the fuck was that?” Sirius shouted from the balcony. But James was already rolling off the trampoline and heading for Barty.
           “What are you doing?” James shouted, his hands curling into fists. Barty and the bloke he was snogging pulled away from each other. Barty barely had a moment to realize what was about to happen before James’ fist connected with his smug face.
           “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Barty yelled, holding his nose.
           “How could you do this to him?” James said, ready to hit Barty again. He could hear people rushing over and then Sirius was there behind him, looking like he was unsure if he should hit Barty as well or restrain James.
           “Who?”
           “Reg!” James growled, his fist tightening. He swore he was going to hit him again. “Regulus Black, remember him?”
           Barty looked at James as if he were crazy. “Regulus and I broke up a week ago. He said he had feeling for someone else.”
           “Oh,” James said, blinking a few times. “Shit, I’m sorry mate. I didn’t know – “
           “Yeah, whatever,” Barty said, walking towards the house with his face tilted up to stop the blood dripping down his face. “Fucking mental case.”
           “What the fuck is going on?” Sirius asked but James was already pulling his phone out and dialing Reg’s number. All the air left his lungs the moment the call connected and he heard Reg’s voice on the other end.
           “James?”
           “Where are you?”
           “I’m at our dorm,” Regulus answered in confusion. “No need for me to guess where you are.”
           “Stay right there.”
           “James – what – “
           James rang off the phone before Regulus could ask him any more questions. He smacked a big kiss onto Sirius’ cheek and then took off running. He hopped the fence instead of trying to go back through the party, as it would only slow him down. He sprinted through the streets, his breath stinging from the cold, his mind singularly focused on getting to Reg as soon as possible.
           When he burst through the door of their dorm room, Reg was in bed scrolling through his phone. He sat up when James entered, his eyes wide in surprise. “James, did you run the whole way here?”
           “That’s not important,” James said, waving him off.
           “What happened to your hand?”
           “I punched Barty,” James said impatiently. “It’s not important!”
           “It’s not,” Regulus said slowly, looking extremely concerned. James knew he must look slightly manic, his hair a mess from the wind, breathing heavily and his hand bruised. “Then what is important, James?”
           “Do you have feelings for me?” James asked, his chest still heaving as he tried to get his breath back.
           “I – I don’t think that’s a very fair question,” Regulus said, ducking his head down.
           “Why not?”
           “Because you didn’t want to kiss me,” Regulus said, pulling his knees up to his chest, looking small and vulnerable. James wanted nothing more than to gather Reg into his arms. “And that would have been fine but then you ignored me for weeks. Now you rush in here demanding to know if I have feelings for you and it doesn’t feel very fair.”
           James soaked in Reg’s words for a moment. “Fuck, I’ve made a right old meal of this, haven’t I?” he said, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “Let me ask that again. Reg, I’m in love with you and I’d be very interested to know how you feel about me because I really want to kiss you.”
           Regulus’ gaze snapped up to meet James’, looking for any sign that this was a joke. When he found none his mouth dropped. “Oh,” he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes. I love you and please kiss me.”
           James walked over with every bit of self-control he had left and sat down next to Reg. He cupped Reg’s face in his hands and watched Reg’s steel grey eyes flutter closed. James felt his own eyelids drift shut at the first press of his lips against Reg’s. It was soft and sweet and already addicting. He forced himself to pull back after a moment and something caught his eye. “You’re wearing my hoodie.”
           Regulus blushed a deep red. It was utterly adorable. “Yeah, um I wear it when you’re not here. I’m sorry, I’ll wash it and put it back. “
           “Keep it,” James said, grinning. He pressed a few more soft kisses to Reg’s lips just because he could. “It’s yours now.”
           Regulus laughed. “Are we talking about the hoodie or you?”
           “Both,” James said, tugging at Regulus until he was sitting across James’ lap, tucked in against him. Suddenly his only plans for the weekend were to kiss and cuddle Regulus as much as possible. And maybe ice his hand because it bloody hurt. “Both is good.”
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curedeity · 3 years
Text
From Different Worlds
Summary: the world of Magix is made up of many different peoples, and thise differences are sometimes very, very tangible.
(Aka: what if the winx were actual aliens)
    It was a bright morning, the sun having snuck in through the blinds and forced all the girls awake. Stella was still yawning as she and Bloom padded down to breakfast together.
    “Hey Stella, could you tone it down a bit, the sun’s being super obnoxious today, like you,” Musa sniped as she passed the duo with her tray. Stella pulled a face at her, leaving Bloom in a fit of giggles.
    “That is a misconception of her powers, it's doubtful Stella has the actual power to control the sun,” Tecna pointed out the obvious. “And if she did, Flora would already be begging her for help with her gardening.”
    Flora shrugged innocently, walking over to go sit with Mirta today.
    It was a normal morning, all in all. Fairies pouring into the breakfast hall, slow conversations and sleepy eyes.
    A sun shining brightly in them-
    God, what Bloom wouldn’t give for some shade. Maybe if she stood behind Stella, her shadow would block out the glare-
    Bloom’s eyes flicked down, widening in shock, before she tapped Stella’s shoulder.
    “Huh, what is it hun?” Stella turned around to look at her, one perfect eyebrow cocked.
    “Where’s your shadow?” Bloom whispered.
    Bloom had seen some strange things at her time in Alfea. Magic had become a routine occurrence in her life, just another part of the atmosphere. Yet she had to be dreaming right now.
    “Oh, I don’t have one,” Stella shrugged. As though that was all the explanation needed. Stella was Stella, so she simply didn’t have a shadow.
    Bloom was going to fucking lose it.
    “Almost all Solarians don’t have shadows. It has to do with how their bodies process and emit light,” Tecna explains to the look of confusion on Bloom’s face.
    “Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know that,” Musa mumbled to herself in the background. Bloom was glad some of them were now remembering how batshit this stuff was to her.
    But-
    “That doesn’t make sense.” Bloom dredged through her memories of her middle school science classes. Because Stella’s body was opaque and solid, light wouldn’t pass through it. Therefore, due to the angle of the sun, parts of the ground would end up shaded from where her body blocked the light.
    That’s how things worked.
    “Well, I don’t get how you all have shadows,” Stella waved a hand dismissively.
    “I guess not all of us can be as radiant as you, Princess,” Musa taunted her.
    And the conversation moved on after that, leaving Bloom to just having to accept that some people didn’t have shadows. Because that’s a thing now.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Flora was the best roommate Bloom could’ve asked for. Sure, sometimes her plants ate her homework, but in those cases Flora would help Bloom redo them. And Flora was much better than Bloom at the problems, so it would ultimately raise her grades.
    Or at least, that’s Bloom thought. The day her opinion was challenged was after one of Griselda’s classes. They had spent two whole hours practicing a litany of spells, and Stella was the only one of the Winx in the class with her. 
    Griselda hadn’t let them off easily afterwards either, piling them high with homework to complete over the weekend.
    Bloom was exhausted by the time she returned to her room, her bag digging into her shoulder. She swung open the door with a little shout to announce her presence, and stumbled on in, ready to drop her bag on the floor, then drop herself onto her bed.
    Her attention was captured, however, by Flora. Who was sitting on her bed. And eating dirt right out of a flower pot.
    She ate it like popcorn, squeezing it in between her fingers and tossing it into her mouth. She wasn’t even focused on that, rather she was doing her homework. It was… casual.
    Flora looked up with a soft smile directed towards Bloom, as she did every time Bloom entered their shared room. “How were your classes Bloom?” She inquired, as she popped even more dirt into her mouth.
    “You know, you know you’re eating dirt, right?” Bloom couldn’t stop herself from asking. This had to be a mistake made from lack of sleep. Flora must’ve been reaching for the bag of chips they kept on the counter for studying snacks, and accidently grabbed one of the many, many flower pots instead.
    “Yeah, it’s specially made to taste like cotton candy! My sister sent it to me as a treat. Would you like to try some?” Flora offered, sticking the pot out in Bloom’s direction.
    “No, thank you,” Bloom managed to respond, giving up on the conversation entirely and flopping down onto her bed.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Classes at Alfea didn’t tend to run on any curriculum Bloom could understand. While there were vague outlines for the subjects, it seemed like the teachers could give any lesson, and if they had even the vaguest justification Griselda wouldn’t stop them.
    Which, Bloom supposed, was how they had ended up learning about sea creatures in Professor Paladium’s class. 
    Living in the same dorm as Aisha, Bloom had already learned a fair deal about the variety of species that lived in Magix’s seas. Flora, Aisha and Tecna could get into long discussions about the biodiversity and importance of them. It seemed to be one of the few commonalities between the many planets of Magix.
    When Bloom first thought of magical sea creatures, her thoughts were filled with ideas of Krakens and Sirens, Kelpies and so much more. And while there were some very odd creatures out there that made her fantastical heart scream with joy, there were also many that were similar or the same as those found on Earth.
    “Dolphins are quite majestic creatures. They eat a variety of other fish in the seas, making them quite the predator. In fact, they even have quite the complex language, made up of calls, whistles and clicks,” Professor Palladium lectured them, spreading his hands out in grandiose gestures, a picture of a dolphin on the whiteboard behind him.
    “It would be helpful if you could all hear them communicate then. Oh, Musa, could you demonstrate for us?” Professor Palladium clapped his hands together as Bloom tried to piece that sentence together in her mind.
    Before she could even give it a cursory thought, a series of inhuman noises filled the room.
    Bloom jerked around wildly, her eyes landing on Musa.
    Who had her mouth open.
    And was emitting those eldritch calls.
    Like- like a fucking. Dolphin.
    “Fantastic demonstration Musa, now, each dolphin has their own individual name…” Professor Palladium’s class droned on as Bloom sat at her desk, reconsidering the existence of reality itself.
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    Bloom had never played many video games. Consoles were expensive, and she spent most of her free time drawing or reading. It had been during her first week at Alfea that she had been hanging out in Musa and Tecna’s room, doing her nails, that she had paused to watch Tecna play.
    Bloom had entertained herself by sketching the wild scenes, a mash of movement and color of the fast-moving games Tecna played. After a few days, Tecna had offered the controller to Bloom while she had gone to grab a few snacks. She had returned to Bloom having died a dozen times.
    Video games were not Bloom’s forte, and she often came in last during Winx Game Night. The few times Stella got worse scores than her, Bloom was 99% sure Stella did so on purpose so Bloom wouldn’t feel bad.
    It was fun though, to watch Tecna obliterate Timmy in every game they played. They were a quite competitive duo, and Tecna had no qualms about crushing them in virtual combat.
    It wasn’t until the specialists had joined them for their game night that Bloom had realized Tecna and Timmy made an even more terrifying team. After that, Tecna and Timmy were no longer allowed to partner together during these games.
    Bloom had to admit, she was a bit jealous that Tecna could maintain her decent grades while spending so much of her time goofing off.
    That’s why it was odd when, during one of their long weekends with little homework, Bloom entered Tecna’s room to find her not playing video games but rather opening a package.
    “Whatcha got there?” Bloom asked, peeking over Tecna’s shoulder curiously. It was a fact of life that privacy was different when they all lived together. They were expected to knock on doors before entering any room, not to eat each other’s snacks, and not go through each other’s cabinets. Anything else was fair game.
    “It’s a new controller that was just released on Zenith, I ordered one to test it out. It has new technology that should improve response time, which will make it easier to shoot Timmy before they shoot me,” Tecna explained, grinning all the while. Tecna’s grins were small, just a tiny upturn of the mouth, a twitch of movement. Barely any warning before she destroyed all your plans.
    Bloom watched as Tecna pulled out what looked like a small half orb. A cord dangled from the base, and Tecna plugged it into her laptop.
    “Uh, how does that work?” Bloom couldn’t see any buttons on it, and it couldn’t spin…
    “Oh, I release a certain amount of electrical data that this controller interprets and uses for it’s commands. I just have to hold it and have the right instincts.” Tecna’s attention was more on loading a new game than talking to Bloom.
    Bloom had been at Alfea for a year and a half now. She just left the room.
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    Bloom had used to love summer, school was stifling and getting to sit outside all day and draw the scenery really was her passion. But now, her feelings on it had become more bittersweet. Every year it was hard to readjust to the routine with her parents after spending so long with the Winx. No more late nights throwing popcorn at Flora’s plants, or getting her makeup put on by Stella in the mornings.
    It wasn’t bad, she missed her parents dearly while she was at Alfea, but there would always be pieces of her scattered at both places.
    They still saw each other over the summer. Stella would take her out for shopping at Magix, and Flora stopped by the shop to help out her mother. Musa got concert tickets for all of them, and Tecna had a server set up so they could always text and play games together.
    Aisha, for her part, had invited them all out for a beach day.
    Bloom rubbed sunscreen onto Tecna’s back while Stella just laughed at the duo. It was unfair that Stella couldn’t get sunburn, when she could burn easily through other means. Bloom stuck her tongue out at the laughing girl.
    Musa had gone off to get them surfboards, given Aisha had promised to teach them all. The other two were already in the water, laughing as they splashed water at one another.
    Bloom stood up, giving her own sunscreened body a once over to make sure she had got everywhere. Stella was already dashing for the water, only a cursory cry of warning that gave neither other any time to move out of the way before Stella cannonballed between them. 
    The water showered over them, Aisha just laughing as she playfully promised to get Stella back, and Flora coughing as she tried to rid her lungs of the excess water. Bloom paddled in and rubbed her back.
    “Sorry Flora!” Stella shouted before returning to her banter with Aisha. 
    “I’m ok,” Flora smiled at Bloom, clearing her throat once more.
    Bloom returned her brilliant smile. “We’ll have to plan a retaliation.”
    Flora nodded, “Most definitely.”
    Bloom’s attention was drawn back to the argument at a splash of water, Aisha was already gone by the time she looked over, only a shadow under the water, and she watched as Aisha pulled Stella down with her.
    “I think Aisha might’ve given her enough actually,” Flora admitted, and Bloom had to give her that.
    She watched her two friends reemerge, hair soaked and Stella whining. Her attention was almost caught by the way Stella’s hair glowed in the sun, before her eyes noted a rippling on Aisha’s neck.
    There, closing back into layers of skin, were gills.
    Alright, so one of her friends had gills. That’s fine. This is fine. 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Bloom’s parents had always known she was a strange kid since the day Mike brought her home, but sometimes that oddity was really hammered in. It was only now, with the context that Bloom was basically an alien child, that the two sat at the dinner table and began reconsidering all those incidents.
    “Remember that time Bloom got stuck in that walk-in freezer while we were chaperoning one of her school trips?” Vanessa added in to the litany of memories.
    “I don’t want to remember that was terrifying!” Mike shivered. “But then I opened up the door and she was completely fine other than a bit annoyed.”
    “I guess we were too relieved to think properly about that, huh?” Vanessa teased.
    Mike sighed. “What about that time we went camping and were making s’mores and Bloom just held the marshmallow in her hand and stuck it into the fire.” The anxiety Mike had felt in that moment bled into his tone, now mixed with the resignation of time.
    “Oh yeah! That’s why we never went camping again,” Vanessa mused.
    Bloom had been a very strange kid, but they’d loved her all the same. Maybe it would do some good to check in with one of the other fairies and see if all this should be considered normal though, just in case. They were responsible parents after all.
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chocojjk · 4 years
Text
Hyunjin’s Playlist
summary: college student! hyunjin x college! student reader; strangers to lovers?
words: 5.2k
a/n: Hi, I meant to upload this a lot earlier however I was met with tons of writers block along the way. I wrote this without having an actual plot prepared lmao. But anyways, its done so I hope someone enjoys reading this :)
all songs used are songs that hyunjin has played on vlive but please keep in mind that the way the songs are portrayed are based off of my own interpretations. i am in no way speaking for hyunjin :) 
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one.
we are often attracted to instruments that mirror our own identity. we find comfort in knowing that we aren’t alone, that somewhere out there, someone is feeling the same exact way. they say a person can tell a lot about another based on their playlist. songs become a portrayal of one’s feelings and experiences. through someone’s music, you can tell what kind of person they are.
“Let me see your playlist.”
“What?” the boy responded, curious as to why you chose that as your conversation starter. nonetheless, he unlocks his phone and opens his spotify app, showing you the songs that have definitely left a mark on his heart. 
Places We Won’t Walk - Bruno Major 
A blissful song with a hint of sadness. The boy in front of you treasures the small things in life, yet is saddened by the things that he cannot reach. 
When The Party’s Over - Billie Eilish 
He’s put up a wall. He’s not easily understood. He’s aware that he can hurt others so he has made himself believe that he’d rather be alone. That he’s better off alone. 
Instagram - Dean
He’s lonely. He often compares himself to those around him, wondering why he isn’t living the same luxurious life with all the same cheerful smiles that he sees on his feed. 
Please Love Me - Colde
He wants to be loved. “I like you,” you smiled, handing him back his phone, taking the seat next to him. 
-
“The weirdest thing happened to me today.”
Hyunjin started telling his friends about the girl he encountered on his first day of university. It’s been hours since it happened yet he couldn’t shake it out of his head.
“That’s it? She just asked to see your playlist?” Jisung exclaims, one eyebrow going up and a pout making its way on his face as he wore the same confused expression Hyunjin sported earlier that day. Hyunjin nods, answering the question that his friend had laid out for him. 
“Hmm, that is weird,” Felix agreed
“Maybe she’s actually a psychology major and it’s a project?” Seungmin suggested, trying to find the answers to the situation that has left them all clueless. 
“Orrr, maybe...just maybe...she thought you were cute?” Jeongin chuckled sarcastically
“But that’s literally all she said to me, she didn’t look at me after that anymore...when the class was over, she was gone without saying goodbye… s-she didn’t even tell me her name!” Hyunjin whines, sinking into his chair. 
“Why don’t you just ask her when you see her again?” their youngest retorts, tired of how his older friends were always overanalyzing things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things.
You frustrated the boy. The way you didn’t even know his name yet somehow you came to the conclusion that you liked him. The way that you spoke exactly 8 words to him but made it seem like you know every story he has to tell. You made him feel vulnerable and he did not like that. 
Not one bit. 
-
“What's your name?” Hyunjin plops his backpack down as he takes the seat next to yours, the same ones as last week. 
“Why does that matter?” you ask, clearly teasing the boy. 
Hyunjin plasters on the fakest smile he could muster up, not really having the patience for your mind games, “well, if you’re gonna continue to sit next to me then the least you could do is tell me your name.”
You bite back a smile, his music gave too much of him away. He was good at hiding his feelings though which is something you’ll give him credit for later on. Honestly, if you weren’t paying attention, you might have missed the sour expression that was laced within the boy's tone of voice nor would you have noticed how he’s trying to show you that he’s unbothered by your words. 
Unluckily for the boy, your attention was focused solely on him. And so, you push his buttons some more, “technically, you were the one that sat next to me.”
Hyunjin stares at you, trying to read what was going on in your mind but all he could feel was the annoyance that was seeping through his body. 
God, you were annoying. 
“Slowly, hair will turn to gray,” you mumbled, a smirk forming its way on your lips. “What?” Hyunjin replied, a word he seems to be saying a lot ever since he met you. “If you keep thinking so hard, your hair might  turn to gray soon,” you joked yet it was clear to the both of you that it was only funny to you, the boy not catching on to the fact that you were phrasing a lyric from one of his songs.
“...my name is y/n,” you say, finally deciding to give the boy a break. 
“Alright class, I want to talk about your partner project, please find someone in the classroom to work with. This will be done throughout the semester and will be 30% of your overall grade so take it seriously,” the Professor informed, capturing both yours and Hyunjins attention.
“This project will be simple - it’s all about observing. Since this is a PSYCH class, I want you and your partner to pick 3 spots and just simply observe the people around you. For example, if you are at the cafe, what could the person in the corner with her eyebrows furrowed be wondering? Is she studying for an exam? Is she worried about a friend? There are tons of possibilities but I want you and your partner to jot down what you see and explain what you have observed.”
“That’s all for today, I’ll release you guys early so you can all have a head start,” she explained. 
You turn to the boy at your side, “so…you want to be partners?” 
-
Hyunjin doesn’t really know why he said yes, seeming he wasn’t comfortable with your presence at all. He convinces himself that he just didn’t want to go through the extra hassle of finding a partner when you were already available. Besides he could honestly care less, the only reason why he’s taking this class was for the extra units. After all, he was a music major. 
“How about here?” you suggested the grassy area in the middle of the campus. This part of the school was peaceful however it wasn’t quiet. Laughter and chatter from all the different kinds of groups filled up the morning air while the birds chirped along and occasionally, a squirrel or two would cause a bit of a ruckus. 
“We could grab some food and just sit down on the grass,” but the puzzled expression on the boy's face lead you to assume that he didn’t quite like the idea, “just so we would blend in more,” you added, hoping that it would be enough for the boy to say yes. 
“We don’t need to get food. We can just sit here and pretend we're talking, a lot of people around here are doing just that.” He was right. All you could do was nod and let out a sigh as the two of you sat next to each other, observing the scene ahead. You were hoping you could grab a quick bite during this since you still had classes for the rest of the day but that obviously wasn’t the case so you chose to just cover up your rumbling stomach with a cough or two here and there. 
“What do you think about him?” Hyunjin pointed at the boy that was sitting on the bench, flowers in his hand as he types away on his phone. 
“Hmm, I noticed his smile first, he’s practically beaming. He’s probably going to surprise his significant other. His legs bouncing up and down from excitement,” you chuckle, finding the anonymous boys’ action cute, “he’s probably texting them right now so they could meet up,” you concluded. You turn to Hyunjin, noticing his eyes slightly widen at your response. “What do you think?” you ask, slightly nudging him out of his trance.
“well... I think you’re right that he’s waiting for someone. But for me, he’s probably gonna confess to that person...uhmm, his ears are pink so he’s nervous… probably afraid of rejection. Because of this he’s probably texting a friend for advice,” he observed.
His answer didn’t surprise you, after all, you’ve already seen some of the deepest parts of him - even if he was unaware. On the other hand, he was in awe. Your guys’ answers were so different from the other. The way you viewed the scene ahead as something positive while his was more on the negative side. This sparked interest in him. But he breaks out of his thoughts as he hears your failed attempt to hide your growling stomach for the umpteenth time. 
He stands to his feet, grabbing you along with him. “Uhm, where are we going?”
He doesn’t say a word. He just grabs your hand and drags you along until you’ve arrived at the university’s main food court. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your stomach rumbling for the past twenty minutes,” he teases as you try to hide the blush that was making its way upon your cheeks. Now you were left speechless, nothing in the boy’s music has suggested that he had this sweet side to him. The side that would easily let someone in. 
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” you admitted as Hyunjin handed you the sandwich he had ordered, one for you and one for him. 
“What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry that I came off strong on the first day,” you apologized, aware of the way that you’ve been pushing his buttons and leaving him uncomfortable. 
“Why did you ask for my playlist?” He was finally going to get an answer to the event that has left him stunned for the past week. 
“It’s just a thing I do,” you confess nonchalantly, “I check to see if  we have similar taste in music and from there, I come to a conclusion on whether or not you’re cool enough for me to talk to,” you lied. You weren’t going to admit to him that the reason you do it was to analyze him. I mean, what kind of person assumes a person’s whole character through their songs, right? 
He wouldn’t understand. 
Honestly, you don’t even really understand yourself why you do it. Maybe because you liked having the upper hand - that way, no one can hurt you. 
Hyunjin lets out a laugh and you feel a little guilty. “So, if my songs were bad, you wouldn’t talk to me?” he chuckles. 
“Yeah, no… not in a million years,” you joked, laughing along with him. 
“So what would be a bad song to you?” he questions, a small smile playing on his lips. 
“I don't know, uhh-despacito?” you snicker
Honestly, there were no such things as bad songs. When it comes to songs, everyone is entitled to their own opinions but you had to play along with the little lie that you’ve already started.
“Hey! I like that song!” Hyunjin retorts, playfully throwing a crumpled up tissue paper along your direction, the two of you sharing a laugh as the small guilt you felt a while ago diminishes. It’s not like it’s going to hurt him anyways. You only see each other once a week and it was for class. Otherwise, you never see the brown haired boy on campus. You didn’t even know of his existence until you startled him with your question. 
The only reason he became your target was because the only empty seat was the one next to him. 
two. 
Second location. A frat party at the famous 3RACHA unit, who you’ve learned were good friends of Hyunjin. It was Hyunjin’s idea, convincing you that you guys will probably get a higher grade if you’ve incorporated various kinds of scenes. Plus, it was his first frat party and he didn’t want to miss it. You on the other hand was dreading this night ever since he brought it up in class last week. Parties weren’t your thing, you would much rather stay at home binging netflix shows, reading fanfictions, or watching compilations of your favorite kpop idols. But here you are now, rummaging the kitchen for something that didn’t contain alcohol as you’ve given up searching for the boy himself.  
“y/n!, heyy,” Hyunjin stumbles in, a red solo cup in his hand. 
“There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Can we please get this over with so I can leave,” you huffed, annoyed at the boy in front of you and the situation that you’ve found yourself in. 
“No.” He pouts before letting out a laugh, his eyes turning into little moons. 
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“Let’s have some fun first!” he beamed, dragging your hand out of the kitchen and into the party, ignoring your many protests. “Hyunjin, I didn’t come here for fun!” you sigh, arms crossing as you finally put a halt to the boys actions. 
“C’mon y/n, loosen up a little bit… you’re in the first party of the most popular frat in town, enjoy it while you can.” This time he holds his hand out, though his eyes had a tinge of red from the alcohol that was playing in his system, the sincerity in them couldn’t be missed. 
And so you do.
 You take his hand in yours as he shoots you one of his signature smiles. You party the night away with the boy at your side. He introduced you to a handful of new people but you forgot their names as soon as it came out of their mouths. 
-
You had way too much to drink but somehow you find yourself stumbling towards the park nearby, the boy's hand still in yours as he shares the story of how his best friend Jisung got chased by a duck and you couldn’t help but let out a boisterous laugh. Nothing about your laugh was pretty and if you weren’t so drunk, the embarrassment would’ve probably creeped up by now but you didn’t care. You couldn’t care - not when Hyunjins laugh would mix in with yours and you guys would have to literally cling to each other for strength. 
“Tag, you’re it!” he breaks you out of your thoughts as he starts running away, his laughter still ringing in the air as you chase him. After a while, you give up, you were in no way, shape, or form, fast enough to catch the boy - especially with all the liquor bouncing around your stomach. 
You sit down on the grass, catching your breath, your laughter dying down as your back hits the grass, eyes focusing on the twinkling orbs above. A few seconds later, warmth fills up beside you, Hyunjin taking his place next to you, mirroring your actions. 
“We never observed a person,” you say chuckling, breaking the silence that quickly hung over the two of you. 
“Sorry,” he smiles sheepishly, turning to you. Hyunjin takes this time to fully take in your appearance. No doubt in his mind, you are one of the most beautiful girls he’s ever seen. 
“Why don’t we, umm -,” he pauses, wondering to himself if this was going to be a good idea for him. 
“Why don’t we, what?” you reply quickly, curiosity getting the best of you as you turn to your side coming face to face with the boy himself. Your guys’ face were millimeters apart and the sudden feeling of his breathing being so close to you felt intoxicating. You dart your eyes down to his lips, thinking what it was like to feel them upon yours. 
Hyunjin lets out an awkward cough, breaking the tension in the air as he stares back up at the stars. “Why don’t we observe each other?” he suggests after his heartbeat finally calmed down. 
“Oh uhmm, o-okay,” you say, your voice faltering, pushing back your desire to kiss him. “You first,” you whisper, keeping your eyes locked into his features. 
“uhh, I think you’re wondering what the hell you’re doing with a boy you barely know at 3 in the morning. You don’t want me to notice that you’re actually really pissed at me for dragging you into this party and not getting any of our work done,”
The boy takes a pause as soon as he hears you giggle ‘hyunjin, you are so wrong,’ you think to yourself. 
“You’re the type to always get your shit done and you’ve probably already figured out everything you want in your life ever since you learned how to walk. You… you shouldn’t be wasting your time with someone like me,” he muttered, slowly turning to face you, this time a sad smile placed upon his lips. You sympathize with him, feeling sad with the way that he viewed himself. 
“Okay, uhm…you're anxious right now because you don’t know how i’ll react to your confessions. You’re the type of boy who doesn’t want to let anyone in but at the same time wants to know how it feels to be loved,” you sigh, the guilt you were feeling creeping in once again, slowly eating you up. Hyunjin grew tense under your observations. He hated how easily it is for you to read him when he thought that he was doing a decent job at keeping up with his facade. 
“You don’t notice the way others look at you because you’re too busy nitpicking your flaws. You didn’t notice how you were literally the life of the party back there. You didn’t notice the amount of girls practically begging for your attention…” you hesitate saying the last thing in your mind but as soon as you turned to him and saw the way he was looking at you, you couldn’t help but let the words stumble out of your mouth, “you don’t notice how much I want to kiss you right now,” and with those words out in the open, he brings his hands up to your cheek, slowly placing a light kiss upon your rosy lips and you swear you’ve never tasted anything better. It was a quick kiss, leaving as soon as it came, but the mix of his cherry chapstick and the alcohol created a combination that left you wanting more. Leaning up, you kiss him again, his mouth moving perfectly in sync with yours, deepening the kiss that you find yourself getting more and more addicted to with every second that passes. 
Hyunjin pulls away first, his thoughts finally all coming together as the alcohol was starting to slowly leave his system. He looks at you, the fear evident in his eyes. He fucked up and he knows it. He shouldn’t have kissed you. You guys were friends and frankly, he liked your company. He can never be that guy who starts a relationship with someone. He was sure that he was incapable of love and could never give you what you wanted. You knew this, of course. You knew this from day one. 
“I’m no good for you,” he sighed, mumbling several apologies for the actions that he took. And you realize how truly scared he was. That the tough image he’s keeping up isn’t because he had to but because he truly believed that it was the right thing to do. 
“That’s okay Hyunjin, we can blame it on the alcohol,” you wished you didn’t have to but you knew yourself that you couldn’t let this get deeper than what it was now.
Hyunjin walks you back to your dorm room, making sure you were safe inside before he headed back to his own place. 
-quiet when I’m coming home, i’m all alone. 
three. 
Hyunjin saw too many relationships around him fail, starting from his own parents. For him, love was merely an illusion. A desire that people get caught up with not because they are in love but because they lust the idea of love. The idea of having someone there to hold, to laugh with, to share stories with - it was all bullshit to him because at the end of the story, someone always leaves. Someone always says goodbye. It wasn’t worth it. 
Not for him. 
But sometimes he’ll see a picture on instagram and wonder to himself, could those smiles be permanent? 
“Are you just gonna keep stalking her social media or are you gonna actually talk to her?” Jeongin breaks the boy out of his thoughts. 
“I’m not stalking her!” Hyunjin replies defensively, hiding the pink that was creeping upon his cheeks. 
“I’ve literally been here for the past 3 mins just looking at you scroll through her feed and you didn’t even notice,” the younger boy points out, teasing him. Ever since the night at the park, Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. He knew that the both of you agreed to just forget it but could he really forget something like that? You made him feel what he was scared of the most. You made him feel like he wanted to fall in love. The memory of your lips against his keeps him up at night, your laughter ringing in his ear while the warmth from your fingertips makes him feel like he’s completely losing it. 
How can he still feel you when you were nowhere near him? 
How did you get past his wall so quickly? 
And why, fuck, why does he want you in it? 
-
You, on the other hand, haven't made any effort to reach out either. He was right about you. You were a know-it-all. Ever since you were younger you knew that you wanted to help the people around you. You enjoyed listening to others’, letting them know that they are never alone and that they could always turn to you for advice or simply just if they needed someone to listen to them. You liked the idea of being someone’s safe haven - that’s why you want to be a psychologist. 
But this - the way the boy made you feel, the way he cluttered your every waking thought - this was something you didn’t plan. This was something you didn’t have the answers to. Grabbing your phone, you finally gain the courage to send the boy a text 
Hey, we still have one scenario left, any ideas? - y/n
Hyunjin reads the text, his heart suddenly doing somersaults in the air. ‘Hyunjin, stop.’ he warns himself. He knows that he wasn’t ready to see you and so he ignored it. Grabbing his backpack he shouts a quick, “I'm gonna go practice,” before heading out to the dance rooms to try and clear his head. 
-
umm, what do you think about going to the diner across town? - y/n 
You did it. You double texted. After several hours, the boy still hasn’t responded to your text so you decided to take manners in your own hands. But as soon as you pressed send, you felt pathetic. He’s most likely just busy and that’s why he hasn’t replied but you like to make yourself believe that you had more of an effect on him. 
You were about to scream into your pillow, feeling frustrated at the situation until your phone let out a small ding, indicating that you’ve received a new message. 
sure - hyunjin 
how does tomorrow at 6pm sound ? - y/n 
good - hyunjin
These one word answers were killing you. For someone who usually knows and can assume what’s about to happen beforehand, you were left clueless and that annoyed you.  
-
“Hey, am i late?” hyunjin takes the seat across from you. no, he wasn’t late. you just arrived way earlier than the time planned hoping to calm your nerves before having to face the boy who has settled himself into your mind. 
“What do you think of that girl over there?” you point at the girl who was sitting, laughing along with her group of friends.
“geez y/n, can’t we order something to eat first,” hyunjin jokes. He barely got there and you were already on top of it. typical, he thinks to himself. You let out a small smile, happy at the fact that the boy was teasing you. Honestly, you were afraid that his responses were going to be as bland as his text messages and it has been killing your thoughts the whole night. 
“ok ok,, my bad… let’s order first,” when your food arrived, you fell into a comfortable conversation. like the thoughts that the both of you have been struggling with never existed. but in the middle of the conversation, something clicked within you. 
You can‘t read him anymore and that scared you. 
“honestly i think this whole project is stupid,” hyunjin blurts out, capturing your attention. 
“hmm, why do you say that?”
“i just find it absolutely ridiculous to just judge someone based on one scenario, you know? like i bet all our guesses have been wrong so far,” he confesses and once again the guilt rushes to your heart and you were left speechless. 
“Like I really hate it when people judge others without getting to know them like who do you think you are? Do people who do that actually think they’re better or mightier?” Hyunjin continues and suddenly the space around you feels tight, your lungs struggling to find air. You were the type of person that Hyunjin would hate and that leaves an unsettling feeling in your stomach. 
Hyunjin notices this after a while of you not responding to him and just picking at your food. “y/n, you okay?” he says, eyes filled with worry and you can't help but let out a tear, quickly brushing it off as soon as it hit your cheek. You don’t deserve the way he’s looking at you like he would fight anyone that comes to hurt you. 
“Hyunjin...i’m sorry,” you let out quietly as you tried to stop the rest of your tears from water falling. Grabbing your bag, you ran out of the diner, leaving a very confused Hyunjin behind to wonder what you were apologizing for. 
four.
7 missed calls 
you don’t dare try to answer any of it. 
the thought of having to face the boy and explain the reasons for your apology hurts you knowing that he wouldn’t want anything to do with you afterwards. how do you even explain it to him? there is literally no plausible excuse: 
“hey yeah i’m the jerk that you hate because i judged your whole personality based off of five songs,”
“i only did it because i like superiority”
“it also helps me feel better about myself”
yeah. he’ll definitely hate you afterwards. and so you sulk in your room, letting out your frustrated cries, your blanket comforting you as the sound of your phone ringing filled the air. after the 12th call, the ringing finally stops and you feel like you can finally think until a knock on your dorm room brings you back to reality. 
“hey,” he sighs, your eyes immediately widening as you shut the door as quickly as you opened it. 
“y/n, come on!” hyunjin whines
“how did you know this was my room?” you yell through the door. 
“I asked around,” he shouts back “now can you let me in??”
You were frozen in place, hands gripped on your doorknob to make sure that he can’t come in. “Look, we don’t have to talk about what happened okay,” he starts, “but we do have a project due in 2 days and i would like to finish it...so please just ….. just let me in.” He finishes, an exasperated sigh leaving his mouth once he comes face to face with the girl that has always been a puzzle to him. 
Entering your dorm room, you notice that the boy's hair is a bit disheveled and you wonder how many times he has let his hands run through them due to frustration. He’s doing his best to hide his furrowed eyebrows and keep a calm expression but you see through all of it. 
you’re doing it again. you think to yourself.  
“okay let’s just make up a scenario since we didn’t get one at the diner,” you suggest, finally breaking the silence that hung above the two of you. 
“why did you apologize?” hyunjin quietly asks, his gaze fixed strongly on you and you find yourself having to sit down due to the impact of his stare. 
“hyunjin…. you said we didn’t have to talk about it,” you responded, trying to change the subject. 
“I lied. I need to know the answers y/n. I need to know why you seem to see through my walls. I need to know how you dug a hole in my mind and stayed in it because I want you out. I don’t know what I’m feeling when it comes to you and I don’t like it.”
“How??? How can you see right through me?!”He frustratedly confesses, his voice getting louder with every question that leaves his mouth. 
“What?? are you a stalker??? Is that why you know?? have you been following me around ??”
“No!” you responded quickly, shutting down the assumptions that the boy has managed to come up with. 
“It’s your music.” you finally confess, your heart tightening as the words left your mouth, afraid of what’s to come next. 
Hyunjin stares at you, his mind finally connecting all the dots. The reason you asked for his playlist. The reason why you knew his stories and insecurities. All of it was because he gave you access to his music. And suddenly he felt bare. All his hiding, all the walls he put up, it was all useless when it came to you. 
“The last song in that playlist…” he starts but you finish the sentence for him, “please love me by colde,” your glassy eyes staring back up at him. 
“so, will you?” hyunjin asked, worry laced within his voice. 
“y-you’re not mad at me?” you stuttered, the boy's actions leaving your mind in a maze. he shakes his head. oddly enough, he didn’t feel any anger towards you. noticing that you were left in your thoughts to make sense of the situation at hand, he offers you a soft smile, “after knowing how troubled my mind was, you still stayed.”  
“i think i already do…” you confess, eyes fixated on him, “love you, that is,” you say mirroring the small smile that was on the boy’s face. 
At your confession, Hyunjin let’s out a shaky breath. 
“will you let me love you?” you ask him, a gentle tone laced within your voice, afraid of the answer to come. 
your eyes never breaking contact with his, you moved closer to him. hyunjins eyes darts down to your lips and suddenly the answer seemed so clear. 
love. 
the word that terrifies him the most. the thing that the boy has been swearing off ever since he was little. love was something hyunjin never understood but every time he looks at your eyes, every time he feels your warmth next to him, and now as your lips move in perfect sync with his, it all seems to make sense.
(a/n): this ending is so rushed and im not sure if im entirely happy with it but i really did not know what to do for the longest time. i was thinking of just scrapping the whole thing tbh but anyways....
feedback is always welcomed and my ask is always open :) 
thank you for reading! 
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Fury, Oh Fury - Part 2
Rating || M (Strong language) Characters || Ben Miller, William Miller. Word Count || 5.1k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist)  @firefeatherx​ @mylifeliterally​ @mandoplease​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @skylyknightly​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @beatriz-silva-00​ @veuliee​ @veuliee2​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @dindisneydjarin​ @lilacyennefer​ @dignityneeded​ @agirllovespancakes​​ @xjustmenobodyelse​​ @oscarflysaac @jaime1110​​ @goldenhour-goldenboy​​ @pascalz​​ @briskywalker​​ @herestherealproblem​​ @givemethatgold​​
Author’s Note || No matter how hard I try to keep this project on a backburner, it keeps kicking and screaming to be told. I had most of part 3 written before I put this fic on hiatus, and I’m hoping to have it written before the end of the year. I just need to get through this week and then schools have two weeks off for the holidays. I’m hoping to carve out some time for writing, then.
District Two’s training academy hides behind the façade of a retired school house.
Upon its decommissioning almost thirty years ago, district leadership descended upon the ramshackle building—and thus began its transformation. Training for the Hunger Games is not condoned by the Capitol. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. While the exterior of the campus remains dilapidated and unassuming, playing every bit the part of a forgotten relic of a bygone era, its interior has its own story to tell.
Old equipment was cleared out. Tables in the lunchroom replaced with rows of sparring rings. The courtyard converted into a range for archery, javelins, throwing knives, and various ranged weaponry. The sagging, cracked walls refurbished and belied with the latest survival equipment and handheld weapons.
Children who display a prowess for fighting—and more importantly, a potential for victory in the Hunger Games—are selected to attend this academy. Training begins at age eleven, and continues until age seventeen, when one is selected to volunteer at the next reaping. These future tributes are up before dawn and smuggled into the academy before the first shift of Peacekeepers hit the streets, and are not let out until late—most days not until after the sun sets.
But the most notable feature of District Two’s training academy is not its staggering array of swords, daggers, maces, spears, every kind of armament under the sun. It’s not the skill with which District Two’s future tributes can wield these weapons. It’s not the way these future tributes can fire an arrow with devastating accuracy by age fourteen. It’s not the cleanliness of what appears to be a retired, collapsing school. No. It’s none of these things.
The standout feature of the academy is the first thing most people see upon entering the building. In the antechamber of the academy are three words emblazoned on the back wall, above the district’s crest.
Honor. Duty. Victory.
And this is the academy’s most notable feature. Painted and upkept with more care than several entire districts see.
It started out—in the early days of the academy—as an unofficial mantra of those who passed through. As time passed, and the academy produced more and more victors, these attributes were prescribed to every tribute.
Honor. Even being selected train, even if it did not guarantee participation in the Games, was considered the highest form of flattery a child in District Two could receive. Second only to being permitted the option to volunteer.
Duty. Once selected as a future volunteer for the Games, it was a job treated with upmost care and respect.
Victory.
Well. That part seems self-explanatory.
--
Future tributes from District Two weren’t exempt from training. Not even on reaping day.
Yes, the day was shortened to make sure everyone was present for the event, but the morning was still packed full of running, exercising, sparring, and survival lessons.
Ben had seen plenty of footage from the outer districts of how this day was observed there. It was a quiet, somber affair—the reaped tributes treated already as corpses at a wake. Families and friends shut themselves in, closed their doors and their blinds, held each other, and prayed that, however their loved one died, it was as swift and painless as the Capitol would allow.
But this was the Hunger Games. A hope for such things is, at best, a feeble one.
In District Two, the air buzzes with energy. Something pure and raw and not quite human. Of course, the knowledge of who will be any given year’s volunteers is kept under lock and key, so bets are placed, wagers made, on who they think will go into the arena based on appearances alone. Those who are selected to offer up their lives try to keep from puffing their chests a little too much, those who did not make the cut hide their disappointment behind polite smiles and kind words.
When the tributes are shipped off their families open their doors to friends and neighbors, who offer up gifts and well wishes. Parties are held for every event possible: the tribute parade, interviews, the start of the Games, and then then it simply did not stop until a victor was crowned or, in the worst case, the tributes were killed.
Then, and only then, did families shut their doors and their blinds, the shame of their tributes failing to bring home another victory outweighing their grief for the loss of a child.
At least that was what they said.
--
Of course, District Two cannot have an eighteen-year-old volunteer step forward at every reaping. To allow that would be to bring down the might of the Capitol if they ever caught on. District Two has worked hard to earn the favor of the president. They’re not about to risk, especially not something as high profile as the Hunger Games.
Some years, a fourteen or fifteen-year-old is selected, some years no one is selected, and the odds dictate who will be traveling to the Capitol that year.
After all, it’s may the odds be ever in your favor, right?
To find out that a district had taken the odds into their own hands, become masters of their own fate. If word of that got out about that… well. It certainly would not be a civil affair.
It was certainly an interesting thing to be said of a nation built upon that exact principle. The Capitol founded itself on this exact principle—built themselves from the ground up because they dared to carve their own path, even if that meant stepping on others. Who was to say they didn’t rig the reapings, anyway?
So for District Two to return the favor would be a horrific slap in the face.
If they ever got caught.
--
“NICE JOB, MILLER! If you go any slower through the next obstacle course maybe I can retire with my pension by the time you’re through!” Ben’s trainer, Alistair, screams in his face.
Ben keeps silent, his face blank and indifferent, his eyes straight ahead. He’s not looking at Alistair. He’s looking through him. Who knew tuning out Will’s lectures about training would prepare him so well for taking his trainer’s abuse?
“Go through it again!” Alistair snarls, and Ben peels back to the start of the obstacle course, hearing him scream “FASTER! I will stick my foot down your throat ‘til your shit’s on my shoe if you don’t hustle, Miller!”
Ben throws himself onto the rope net. He climbs.
Ben catches the rest of his team when he reaches the top of the rope wall. Alistair has them all doing pushups until he finishes the obstacle course, and Ben throws himself down the other side of the wall, gritting his teeth. He makes it through the course faster this time, and Alistair lets the others up. He trots them to the next course.
After the obstacle courses, it’s close quarters combat training with the squad of sixteens. Ben is convinced they’ve set it up this way just to show them how it feels to lose—to use that motivation to throw themselves into a fight willing to do whatever it takes to win. This is the Hunger Games, after all, it’s all about how ruthless you can be.
Ben looks forward to sparring drills the most. From the moment he set foot in the academy two years ago, he’d proved himself fast, faster than most others, even those much older than him. The trainers had capitalized on that. Now, at age fourteen, he can mop the floor with any squad except the eighteens.
Ben makes friends with another boy in his group named Ramsey. They share a brand of indifferent camaraderie usually reserved for teammates that only get along in the field. Ben’s had to swallow so much pride over the past six months alone following Will’s victory that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked to death. Ramsey’s strength is with a strange sort of sword-spear hybrid the trainers call a yklwa.
In close quarters combat, he’s a whirlwind, the weapon a mere extension of his hand. He takes down whoever steps into his path while hardly breaking a sweat. God helps whoever tries to run from him with the yklwa in his hand.
Ramsey says he’s named his yklwa Carmen. After a recruit in the fifteens he’s hoping to get together with.                                                
--
Will takes up woodworking after his Games. His home in the Victor’s Village is covered in them. He starts small—bowls and cutting boards at first are rough to the touch. As he hones in on this newfound hobby, his hand grows steady, smooth, until he’s crafting shelves with intricate details carved into the side panels, whittling animals with striking detail that seem to stand guard in their respective rooms. A particularly haunting interpretation of the cougar mutts he faced in the arena adorn the shelf above his fireplace.
It’s not until after he returns from his victory tour that Ben asks Will to train him. It’s over dinner, one of the evenings their father works late. Will brings home stew and a loaf of bread filled with seeds from the market that they eat on the floor before the roaring hearth. They tear off chunks of the bread and dunk them into the rich, savory broth.
“Why?” Will asks simply. He doesn’t look at Ben. He looks straight ahead at the fire, the dancing flames casting dozens of patterns of shadow and light across his face each second.
Ben pulls his legs up towards his chest, Will’s lack of enthusiasm making him regret bringing it up in the first place. “’Cause…” he says, unsure how to say it without provoking his brother to anger. “The headmaster at the academy keeps tellin’ me that if I keep it up, I’ll be able to volunteer in a few years. I want… to be ready.”
“You don’t get enough training there?”
Ben folds his arms on top of his knees and hides his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow. “If you teach me, I’ll be even better—I’ll be able to win,” he mumbles into his sleeve.
Will’s eyes drift away from the fire, a muscle in his jaw feathering as his mouth tightens into a thin line. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Okay,” he says at last.
Ben, sensing the hesitation, backpedals, “You don’t have to.”
“No. I want to.” Will gathers up the remains of their meal and carries them into the kitchen. “If they’re going to ask you to volunteer like you think they will—I want to make sure you’re ready. I want you to come home.”
Ben doesn’t follow him into the kitchen, the weight settling in his chest too heavy to move. He just wants to be as good as Will was, he thinks. He wants to bring pride to District Two like Will did.
When he looks through the doorway into the kitchen, Will stares out the window, at something only he can see.
The next week, Will starts carving weapons.
--
The sword is merely an extension of Will’s arm when he knocks Ben on his ass for the fifth time and levels the dull point of the blade with his throat.
They’ve cleared out one of the (many) spare rooms of Will’s home and repurposed it as a sparring ring. Ben and his father were extended an offer by Will to live with him in the home. Due to the nature of their father’s work, he elected to remain in their house inside the district. Ben bounces between the two, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t prefer Will’s house to their father’s.
Ben’s tailbone groans as he slides over the carpet away from Will’s sword. He’s fashioned it almost exactly after his weapon from the arena, every detail down to the carvings on the hilt crafted with extreme accuracy from memory.
“You’re stuck in the moment,” Will advises, flipping the sword around and pressing the tip into the ground between and slightly in front of his feet. He leans into it, the wood barely creaking against his weight. “You gotta anticipate, Benny.”
Ben groans, “It’s hard to anticipate when I’m too focused on not getting my hand cut off.”
He’s forgone a weapon during this session, choosing to focus instead on how to disarm an opponent. If he faces another tribute with a weapon, if he can get it out of their hands, he will earn the upper hand and put the odds in his favor.
Maybe it’s a trait that came from the arena, but Will seems so much more in his element here. He’s relaxed, lines no longer weathering his crushingly young face. His movements smooth, steady, his reactions unlike anything Ben had ever seen before.
How can he hope to go up against anything like that in the arena?
“Come on,” Will’s voice softens when he extends his hand. “Let’s try again.”
--
Ben keeps his focus on his own rhythmic, controlled breathing, sucking air into his lungs and letting it out in a smooth, measured pattern as his feet pound into the concrete of the track. He ignores the soreness in his legs, the tightness in his chest, his thighs begging him to stop and his lungs pleading for more. He ignores the others in his squad running in stride with him, focusing only on keeping the pace. He tunes out the pain, the people around him, and the world around him.
It’s just him and the road.
“Hey, Ben,” Ramsey’s raspy voice huffs next to him.
Ben stays silent, his blue eyes fixed downwards at the patch of the track he would job over five seconds from now. He breathes a slightly deeper breath than before, his concentration irked by Ramsey’s attempt to get his attention.
“Ben!” Ramsey snaps.
Ben closes his eyes, actively putting all of his effort into focusing on the task at hand. He centers his mind on the impact of his shoes against the concrete and his own deep breathing that makes a whooshing sound in his ears. He might fall behind or run out of breath, and if Alistair catches them talking, they’re in for all sorts of hell.
“I’m talking to you, dickhead!” Ramsey hisses, pausing between breaths.
Ben remains nonresponsive. Whatever it was, it could wait until—
A flash of pain sears across Ben’s backside, Ramsey’s hand smacking against his ass as hard as he can manage. Ben fumbles on a step with a yap of shock and hurt. He sucks down a massive amount of air and losing all semblance of pace he had with the others, only to receive a grunt of “Move!” and a shove forward from the boy behind him. Ben sprints ahead to get back into place, his face hot with embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and tries to regulate his breathing.
“Jackass!” he snarls at Ramsay, who cocks a playful grin and breathes through his mouth.
“You know better than to neglect me,” Ramsey pants, keeping up the pace. “I refuse to be ignored.”
“You’ve got a dick punch headed you way for that,” Ben croaks, his ass still aching as he tries to keep running the last half-kilometer.
“Whatever,” Ramsey replies with the vaguest shake of his head. “Anyway, did you do the homework last night?”
Homework is a rather loose term, but they were occasionally tasked with assignments to complete at home. These assignments ranged from practicing an advanced hand to hand combat maneuver, building a snare designed to catch a rabbit, or successfully waterproofing matches. The particular assignment Ramsey referred to had to do with reading about how to identify poisonous plants.
“Kinda late to be asking about that now, don’t you think?” Ben pants.
“That’s why you’re my friend,” Ramsey explains, “When my girlfriend keeps me out too late to do work, you bail me out.”
Ben grunts and cuts a glare at Ramsey that would have burned holes through almost anyone else.
“I know you’re jealous that she gets all my attention, Benny—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Besides, we can’t all be dating some carefree, rich daughter of the mayor that loves to spend all your money.”
Before Ben can respond, a harsh voice calls, “Kick it in! Last hundred meters!”
Ramsey and Ben begin to suck in deep gulps of air along with the rest of their team, holding all of the oxygen they can and sprinting down the last section of track in a final burst of speed. They lean forward and tear down the concrete, ignoring the lightheadedness and the dull throbbing of their leg muscles as they pump their arms and struggle to stay in formation, the soles of their shoes pounding against the surface of the track.
The burning in Ben’s chest and stomach intensifies, the tightness of his body worsening as the end comes into sight.
“You better get across the finish line before I say times up or I’m gonna shove my foot up each and every one of your asses!” the voice roars.
Ben, Ramsey, and the rest of the squad picks up the pace, stomping their feet into the concrete and rushing across the finish line as a group, the last one just barely crossing before the voice cries, “Time’s up!”
The squad trots to a stop, and begins stretching against the wall of the indoor track, lined up single file in order to get out of the way of anyone else using the track.
“So, listen,” Ramsey whispers. “Back on topic: what was the homework from last night?”
“I thought you needed to copy it,” mutters Ben.
“Well, yeah. But I have to know what it is, first!”
“It was just reading,” sighs Ben. “Identifying poisonous versus edible plants.”
“Do you think they’re going to quiz us on it?”
Ben shrugged, indifferent.
“Quiz you on what, Miller?” a harsh voice behind them asked.
Ben and Ramsey cringe and do an about-face, knowing what they would see when they turned around.
Even though Ben had reached an impressive physical height for fourteen, Alistair still holds a few inches over him. He and Ramsey stand tall, staring straight forward as Alistair comes up to them with an acid frown on his face.
“Listen up!” Alistair roars. “Miller here thinks that just because his big brother’s a victor of the Games, that entitles him to a free ride around here! And Ramsey here is so in love with Miller that he can’t keep his hands off his ass! Both of them have disrespected you and me! They had the chance to do this because you aren’t motivating them enough! Therefore, I am going to punish all of you for what one of them has done! The rest of you will run while these two spar in the ring. If Miller wins, He’ll watch the rest of you do a switch run for a half an hour! If Ramsey wins, he’ll watch while the rest of you do a switch run for half an hour! Understand? Go!”
Ben and Ramsey both receive murderous glares from the eight remaining members of their squad as they take off down the track, once more in formation.
“Do I personally have to shin-kick the both of you to get you moving?” Alistair barks.
Ben and Ramsey walk past Alistair, staring at the ground, across the track and into the center field, in which was a platform boxing ring with holographic boundary lines on all four sides. Protective gear and gloves rest against the sides of the platform. Ben and Ramsey unzip the jackets of their track suits, underneath which they both wear plain white tee shirts, and slip a pair of gloves over their hands and headgear over their ears.
“Let’s go!” Alistair barks. “Your fellow cadets are paying for every second you waste!”
“Damn it, Ramsey,” whispers Ben. “I knew this would happen.”
“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Ramsey asks incredulously as they walk up the stairs. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Ben snaps as they pass through the holographic boundary lines, traveling to the center of the ring and facing each other. “We’re in this situation because you refuse to be ignored!”
“Well then maybe you shouldn’t ignore me all the time, I might say something you need to hear,” Ramsey responds icily.
“Like what?”
“Like, maybe if you pull that stick out of your ass, you might learn to have some fun, instead of just being an asshole most of the time,” Ramsey shrugs, putting up his fists.
“Well, according to you, Ramsey, everyone’s got a stick up their ass, so maybe you’re the one with the problem,” Ben comes back coolly.
“Oh, for fucks sake…” Ramsey growls, taking a swing at Ben’s head.
Ben bends backwards, avoiding the punch, then steps forward and jabs at Ramsey’s side. He lets out a gasp of shock, then nails Ben in his cheek with another quick swing.
Ben stumbles backwards, a dull stinging igniting in his face, though his headgear had absorbed most of it.
“Do you always have to be so goddamn responsible all the time?!” Ramsey snarls. “You always have to be right and you always have to have everything follow your rules!”
Ramsey steps towards Ben to deliver another blow, only to have Ben sidestep around and slug him in the stomach once again. Ramsey clenches his stomach, looking up as Ben knocks him in the forehead with a hard right hook.
Ramsey flies backwards, falling on his ass, stunned.
“You’re not responsible at all! How do you expect to live up to anything that your family wants for you if all you do is fuck off?!” Ben barks.
Ramsey looks up at Ben, getting to his feet. Ben stands at the ready, his fists up to protect his face. Ramsey swiftly strikes at Ben’s face, a hit that is blocked but still distracts him enough for Ramsey to drive his other fist into his stomach. The wind flies out of Ben’s lungs as Ramsey delivers an uppercut to his bottom jaw, whiplashing his neck and throwing him back.
“I don’t worry about it!” Ramsey spits. “You could stand to do the same. You worry about things that aren’t in your control. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one preoccupied with my family here!”
Ben grits his teeth through the intense stinging in his jaw and neck, his anger fueling his rise to his feet. He leaps forward and strikes one, two, three times at Ramsey’s head, punching into a block each time but not caring. He steps back just in time to avoid another shot at his face from Ramsey, then back forward to hit the other boy in his upper chest.
“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!” Ben yells, punching again and again at Ramsey’s defenses, driving him further back. “You don’t know what I’ve been through and you don’t know what I’ve got to deal with.”
Ramsey grumbles and shoves upward into Ben’s elbows, pushing his arms up and pulling his left fist back. Before Ben can bring up a block again, Ramsey’s fist smashes into Ben’s jaw, twisting his head to the side as Ramsey’s right fist punches into Ben’s shoulder.
The dull throbbing pain in his face and the taste of blood in his mouth make the fall backwards almost unnoticeable, until the reverse polarity field at the boundaries of the ring throw him back into the center. Ben stumbles forward and landed on his knees.
“You’ve got to deal with living up to someone, Ben. I know how it feels,” Ramsey sympathizes, not attacking. “But you can’t torture yourself over things you can’t change and how you think someone would judge what you’re doing. You’re not and you can’t be just like Will!”
Ben glares up at Ramsey, lashing out with his leg and sweeping Ramsey’s legs out from under him. Ramsey falls onto his back with a rough thud and Ben leaps across the floor on all fours as Ramsey tries to get up. He puts Ramsey into a chokehold, compressing his neck in the crook of his arm, causing Ramsey to gasp out in panic.
“Well what choice do I have?!” Ben hisses into Ramsey’s ear.
Ramsey gags, and then taps the floor.
Ben releases his friend and stands to his feet as Ramsey collapses to the floor of the ring, coughing. Ben breathes hard, looking down at him, and extends a hand. Ramsey takes Ben’s hand and he helps him, still breathing raggedly. As Ramsey massages his neck and looks at Ben with a mix of pity and disappointment, Ben noticed Alistair standing at the edge of the ring. He disengages the polarity field and steps into the ring silently, the holographic borders flickering off.
Ramsey doesn’t wait for Alistair to say anything. He gives a sloppy, two-fingered salute, then takes off running down the stairs of the ring to join the rest of the squad.
Ben wishes he could feel more pride at his victory when Alistair turns to him.
“Best get going, son,” says Alistair, quieter than usual. “Reaping is in a few hours.”
Ben just nods numbly and exits the ring.
--
The last time Ben found himself standing in a roped off section of the square was eleven months ago, holding his breath as Will was declared the victor of the Fifty-fourth Hunger Games.
Now he stands in a clump of other fourteen-year-old boys, the space tight and claustrophobic as they await the start of the reaping. It’s one thing for a district as large as Two to cram as many people as they can in the square; it’s another to do so in the height of summer. Sweat rolls down the back of Ben’s neck and into the collar of his button-up shirt.
He’s been out here longer than many of the district’s children. He arrived early with Will, who has earned a spot on the stage with Two’s other victors. His chair is front and center, almost directly between the two massive glass balls containing thousands of paper slips and to the right of the mayor’s chair.
Ben’s name is in there three times this year. The thought is a small comfort, even though the odds are entirely in his favor. His heart throws itself around his ribcage, his throat tight. He catches Will’s eye over the heads of the teenagers standing closer to the front of the crowd, and he gives Ben a short, assuring nod.
They’re not going to pick you, Will had said while getting ready that morning when he noticed the way Ben’s hands trembled for a grip on his comb. And if they do, someone will step up.
He’s right. District Two’s favored boy to volunteer this year is an eighteen-year-old named Bromius who doesn’t know how to back down from a fight.
Though he stands directly in the middle of the crowd, Ben is sure he can feel the prying eyes of spectators around him. Him, the younger brother of a victor. It’s only natural for them to wonder if he will follow in the footsteps of Will and volunteer for the Games. He’s sure more than a few wagers are being placed in his favor today.
To Ben’s right, the crowd shifts, and Ramsey shoulders his way to Ben’s side. “Hey,” he says. “How are you doing?”
Ben reigns in the urge to grimace when another bead of sweat drips down his back. “As okay as I can be.” No matter being though this twice before, no matter how much he expects having to step forward and step on that stage one day, he can’t seem to quiet the anxiety that roils in his stomach. He still watches Will, but his attention has been drawn by another victor seated behind him, a pretty girl who won seven years ago, if Ben remembers correctly. They’re both smiling. Ben’s just glad Will can still smile. A handful of Two’s victors have come home, but he’d never seen them smile again.
Ramsey claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not going to volunteer for another two years at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked you to go in when you turn sixteen.”
Why is everyone so insistent that he’s going to be fine?
The thought is chased from Ben’s mind when feedback from the microphone on stage squeals through the speakers. The mayor waits for the sound to ebb before launching into the same speech he gives every year. By now, he has it memorized. Some of the boys around him quote the speech along with the mayor with dramatic voices and giggle to themselves.
As always, they are reminded of the origin of the Hunger Games, reminded of—no matter how much they may be in favor with the Capitol—they will ultimately be at their mercy by sending in their children to their prospective deaths. The only difference this year is that Will’s name has been added when the mayor reads off the list of past victors. He feels a small swell of pride at that.
District Two’s escort is introduced. Terra Evervale, a woman who’s allowed the fact that she has worked with so many victors get to her head, makes a brief statement about how much she’s looking forward to introducing the district’s next victor to the spoils of the Capitol.
Ben keeps his eyes locked on Will, who has made sparing eye contact with him through the procession. With so many cameras on him, he needs to appear alert and engaged. Now he watches Terra as she announces that this year, they will begin with the boys, and crosses the stage to one of the glass balls.
She plunges her hand deep into the ball, rummages around for a few seconds to build the anticipation. By the time she removes the single slip of paper, almost everyone in the square is holding their breath. Ben feels his fists clench, his vision blurring around the edges.
Will watches, his expression cool as Terra crosses back to the microphone. When she breaks the seal and pulls the edges of the paper apart, he has the perfect vantage point to read the name before she announces who the male tribute will be.
Will’s blue eyes go wide, his mouth falling open slightly; Ben can see his breath catch. He finds Ben in the crowd, as if he could call out a warning.
Ben reads Will’s expression, and knows with terrifying clarity whose name is on the paper.
“Benjamin Miller!”
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pirateherokillian · 4 years
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Gifted (1/?)
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Summary: All he wants if for her life to be normal. The world is determined to decide otherwise. Rating: T AO3 A/N:  So here it is - my entry for @captainswanmoviemarathon​​! It is a CS AU based on the movie ‘Gifted’. My version of the story will feature a lot more of the romance between Killian and Emma than the movie counterpart did for it’s respective characters, I promise! (Though Emma doesn’t come in just yet for this first chapter - but I promise there’s tons of CS to come!). I want to thank @lassluna​​ for being a very lovely beta who is putting up with my procrastination and last-minuteness like a champ! 
I hope you all enjoy my interpretation of the story as a CS fic! (And if you’d like to be tagged in future updates, please let me know!)
-----
The high-pitched ‘do-do’ing of ‘Baby Shark’ blaring from his cellphone had Killian startling awake suddenly, a loud groan rumbling into his pillow as he came into the world of the semi-conscious. Reaching out blindly for the offending device, face still firmly planted against cotton-encased stuffing, his hand collided with a couple of empty beer bottles littering his nightstand. They clattered to the pressboard surface, one even going so far as to tumble to the floor, before his fingers found purchase on the phone. 
He slapped at it pathetically, praying to every god he could remember that that alone would get it to stop singing the infernal song. When the irritating little menaces still continued to ‘do-do’, Killian groaned again, this time louder and more agitated than before, before pushing himself up more fully so he could grab for his phone entirely. 
Flopping onto his back, the cell held up over him, he finally managed to get it to just… not do the damn Baby Shark-ing anymore. And that’s when he noticed the alarm he’d named ‘Alice School’ just the evening before had been rebranded to ‘YOUR DUMB AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME.’
Killian dropped his arm down with a sigh, his hand holding the phone bouncing slightly on the bed. He reached up with his free hand to rub at his eyes, feeling the headache this day was gonna bring building just behind them.
“Bloody little demon,” He muttered to himself with exasperated affection before flipping back the comforter.
----
Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, Killian sipped from his coffee mug as he leaned against the frame. “Come on, let’s have a look.”
“No!” The indignant voice of his seven-year-old niece shouted back through the warped and slightly cracking wood. 
“Alice…” Killian called again in that sweet voice he only reserved for annoying the child. “You have to come out some time.”
“Not in this, I don’t!” She argued back. The agitation in her voice seemed to only increase at his own faux-sweetness. 
Taking another drink of his coffee, Killian gave his head a sad little shake like she could see him through the door. “You’ll just abandon Smee to the likes of me. Here I thought you loved him!” There was an indignant huff on the other side of the door, but silence was the only thing to follow that. “Come now, little love. I’ve got a special breakfast planned for you.”
It was enough to get Alice to pull the door open quickly. “You swore you’d never make mackerel for breakfast again!” She cried in horror, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and disgust. 
Killian quirked an eyebrow and lowered his mug. “Who said it was mackerel, hmmm?” He eyed her up and down, bringing his mug down to rest against his stomach while he took in the full look. “You look adorable.”
“Just because my name is Alice doesn’t mean I wanna look like a Disney character, Killian.” She crossed her arms over her chest and pouted dramatically. “You did this one purpose,” When Killian raised both eyebrows in curiosity, she rolled her eyes in response. “For Baby Shark…”
Pushing off the doorframe, Killian moved the short distance down the hall towards the kitchen. “I’m many amazing things, darling, but clairvoyant is not one of them.” He tossed over his shoulder before stopping at the counter to the right of the sink. 
He used his free hand to shoo Alice’s scraggly one-eyed cat, Mr. Smee, out of the way and set down his mug. The sound of little footsteps stomping their way after him let him know that Alice had indeed decided to join him. The chair behind him scraped against the old wooden floor while Killian reached up into the cabinet and extracted a box from it. 
Turning, he slapped it down onto the kitchen table in front of Alice. “Breakfast.” He turned on his heels to snatch up a bowl and spoon from the dishrack and placed that on the table for her as well. 
“You said it was special…” Alice muttered in confusion as Killian made his way over to the fridge. 
He pulled the milk out and moved back to her, making sure to turn the box of cereal around to reveal the ‘Special K’ on the front side. He then set the milk down and went about getting her lunch for the day prepared. 
“That’s cheating.”
Killian snorted as he untied the bag of bread. “You’re the one who always claims I’m a pirate…” He turned back to hover over her shoulder. “I’m just living up to the moniker.” He playfully teased with a poke to her side that made her giggle despite her obvious attempt to remain indignant. “Now eat your cereal. You don’t wanna be late for the bus.”
Reluctantly, Alice went about preparing her breakfast while Killian turned back to making her lunch. That didn’t stop the girl from informing him, yet again, of how he was making a terrible mistake.
“What’s Mr. Smee gonna do all day if you’re getting dirty on other people’s boats and forcing me to go sit with dumb little kids?”
“Hey now,” Killian chastised sternly, turning to give her a serious look with a knife full of peanut butter hovering in the air above the counter. “Being annoyed with me is no excuse for rudeness. It’s-
Alice slumped, dropping her spoon into her bowl. “Bad form. I get it.”
“Then don’t do it.” She made a face in response, but still nodded nonetheless and he knew that was the best he was going to get. He returned his focus back to her peanut butter and jelly. Silence finally filled the small kitchen as the two went about their respective business and it was only a few minutes later that Killian had her lunch box packed and sitting on the table, ready to go.
He started to move out of the room towards his bedroom, but Alice saying his name stopped him. Killian stopped and looked at her expectantly. 
She was giving him a curious look. “What does ‘clairvoyant’ mean?”
His eyebrow raised and he smirked. “You mean you don’t know?” At her almost sheepish shake of her head, he quirked his head to the side and started for his bedroom once more. “Sounds like someone needs school.” He said loudly, grinning outright when an exasperated groan flittered out from the kitchen.
-----
The sea breeze ruffled his hair as he stood with Alice outside waiting for the bus to arrive. He had to stop himself from mentioning how it was the perfect weather to  be out on the water, lest he put the idea in her head that they could buck this whole school thing and go out for a joy ride like they normally did on days like this. 
‘No,’ Killian thought to himself as he banished boat rides from his mind. ‘Alice needs this. She needs school.’ He looked over his shoulder at the miniscule beach bungalow they called home, then scanned their immediate surroundings. There were near identical buildings scattered about, all tiny homes for the retirees and marina working class that often populated the type of Floridian town they resided in. There were no other children in their little complex, no other people Alice’s own age for her to interact with. He had brought her to this place to get her out away from the world that would break her. 
The least he could do was try and make things as normal for a seven-year-old as he possibly could. 
He noticed the bus finally start to turn down the long road that led to where they were standing. School was normal for a kid…
Kneeling down, he spun Alice around to face him. She still had that indignant glint to her eye, but she had at least stopped arguing with him about the situation. Some part of his decision had finally sunk in for her. He just hoped what he was about to say did as well. For her sake, he really bloody hoped she took it to heart.
“Starfish,” He reached up and brushed her bangs away from her eyes. It was futile considering the wind sent the hair ruffling about again instantly, but that was unimportant. “Remember what we talked about, aye? Be kind, be courteous, show good form and-”
“No showing off.” Alice parroted the advice he’d given her the night before back to him with a roll of her eyes. “I remember, Killian.”
Killian smiled, knowing it was a little weak but it was the best he could do besides blatantly asking her if she truly got it. They didn’t have time for that conversation at that moment. “Okay…” He brushed his thumb over her cheek and he felt a strong pang in his chest at how much her eyes reminded Killian of him. “I just…” He glanced up as the sound of the bus drawing closer got his attention.
“Just remember to... be a kid, aye?” He finally sighed as he looked back to his niece. Over her shoulder, the bus came to a stop at the curb. 
“Alright.” Alice mumbled as if the suggestion was the most insane thing she’d ever heard. The doors to the bus slid open and Killian rose back to his feet and turned her towards the waiting transport. He stopped a few steps shy of the curb and nudged her forward lightly when she stopped with him. She huffed but continued on to the bus.
She stopped, however, halfway up the steps and turned back to him. “You won’t ignore Smee, right?” She asked in a way that was somehow childlike and accusatory at the same time. 
Killian snorted and it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Smee would never let me ignore him, love.” He nodded his chin down the length of the bus to encourage her to keep going. “Have fun.”
For a moment, a look of fear and uncertainty crossed her face. But it passed just as quickly as it came and she gave him one final nod before making her way deeper into the bus and out of his sight. The driver gave him a congenial nod before pulling  the lever to shut the door. 
Drawing in a deep breath, Killian watched the bus pull away as he slowly let the air out of his lungs. He really couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually doing the right thing by throwing Alice out into the public school system, but it was too late to question it now. He waited for the bus to get a little further away before he nodded resolutely and turned back towards the house with his hands in his pockets. He slowly started to make his way over to it and it was then that he noticed a familiar, annoyed face watching him from the doorway window of the bungalow just a short distance from his. 
“Shit,” He muttered to himself, quickening his pace as the woman swung open her door and started towards him with purpose. Killian managed to get inside his own home and lock the door before she could reach his front porch, but it was all in vain as he heard the jangle of landlord keys finding their way into the lock.
He sighed, pulling open the fridge and grabbing a beer as his kitchen door swooshed open just to his left. “I’m pretty sure that’s a strong abuse of authority.”
“Shut it, Jones.” His landlord tossed back just as she tossed her keys onto the counter he had propped himself against. She glared him down as he turned and used the countertop to pop the top off the bottle before he took a sip. “You’re an idiot.”
Killian snorted around the mouthful of beer in his mouth. “You’ll have to be more specific, Ursula.” He gave her a cheeky look. “I’ve done my fair share of idiotic things in my day.”
She pointed at him menacingly. “Don’t play coy with me, Killian.” The finger she had directed at him swung around behind her out the still-open kitchen door and towards the street. “You know I’m talking about sending that girl away.”
Anger flared in Killian’s chest and he shifted to slam the bottle down on the counter. “I didn’t send her away,” He fired back at Ursula, bitter resentment working its way into his tone. He didn’t wait to see her reaction, instead pushing off the counter and stalking out of the room towards his bedroom. He could hear her following as he made his way towards his bed. “It’s just school. It’s normal for kids her age to go to school.”
Ursula stayed in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her expression had softened a fraction, Killian’s angry words in the kitchen seeming to have some effect on her. “If she was normal, I’d agree with you.” She put her hand on her hip. “But Alice is-”
“I know what Alice is, Ursula.” Killian sighed as he threw himself down onto the edge of his mattress. He leaned over and reached for his boots laying haphazardly on the floor. “Just last night, she was explaining to me what our government should be doing to boost the economy.” He muttered loudly while lacing his shoes. “‘It’s such simple math, Killian,’ He repeated the words his niece had casually said to him the night before over her easy mac. ‘Why can’t the administration see that?’ 
His blue eyes found Ursula’s again as he sat back up sharply. “I’m thirty-three years old being lectured to about the economy by a child.” He stood from the bed and stepped over to his dresser to snatch the keys up from where he’d tossed them yesterday evening. “Nobody her age should be caring about what the administration is doing.” Killian said as he stopped in front of Ursula. “She should be doing regular kid things, with kids her own age. Not her thirty-something uncle day in and day out.” He pushed past her out the doorway. He continued on back through the kitchen and out through the door that was still sitting wide open. He stalked over to his aging work truck, shoving the key into the lock and yanking the door open.
Ursula was hot on his heels, the keys she’d picked back up from the counter jingling all the way. “Killian…”
He spun around to face her, throwing his arms out wide as he stepped away from the truck a fraction. “She needs to be a kid, Urs. I’ve done all I can to give that to her, but it’s not enough.” 
“And you really think public school is the best place for her to get ‘enough’?” She questioned.
Killian shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. But it’s the best I’ve got.”
“Well,” Ursula shook her head and gave him a foreboding look. “I sure hope your best doesn’t make life any more difficult for any of us, that girl especially.” Her finger came up to point at him again. “If anybody comes for her, I’ll make sure your body ends up somewhere nobody will find it. You may have the reputation of a pirate, but they don’t call me a sea witch around here for nothing, boy.” With that, she spun sharply and strode back towards her house.
“Love you too!” Killian called out to her, smirking as she waved a hand aggressively over her shoulder towards him. He sighed and climbed up into his truck. Her words bounced around his head.
‘I hope your best doesn’t make life anymore difficult for any of us, that girl especially.’
“Me too, love.” He mumbled to himself. “Me too.”
A meow from the passenger seat drew his attention, and Killian turned his head to find Mr. Smee watching him expectantly. Almost judgingly, if he was being fully honest with himself.
“Not you too.” He grumbled as he shoved his keys into the ignition and the truck rumbled to life. “I can and will throw you overboard sometime today.”
The answering mew he got made it clear Mr. Smee knew he was absolutely full of shit. He chuckled to himself and shook his head before shifting the truck into drive so he could head off to work.
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