#I mean “I am legitimately unable to focus on anything BUT this one thing” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (13)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst, years of longing escalating into something serious

words: 8.6k (send help)

chapter thirteen

The lamp posts on the street illuminated Jungkook’s face with a warm yellow haze as the two of you walked back to your dormitory, the noise of the party – and the argument you’d had outside of it – already behind you. You didn’t dare to watch him for longer than just a split-second but you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you were too focused on the pavement to notice.

You hadn’t said a word to each other since you left the front yard of his house – and that was already two and a half blocks away – and both of you were busy worrying what the right way to say goodbye once you reached your dorm was. A wave didn’t feel enough but a hug seemed inappropriate after the intense conversation you’d had.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook volunteered to make your trip less awkward.

“Were you actually going to have me arrested?” he asked, recalling your previous threat with surprising clarity – probably because it had impressed him so much.

You sighed, recognizing the amusement on his features – no matter how hard he tried to play it off as simple curiosity – and then said, “no, probably not. That would have only ruined your whole plan and your future—”

“I already have a record,” he pointed out. He said it like that was supposed to make you feel better – it’s totally fine if you get me arrested, you know – but you almost stopped walking in surprise.

“Y-you do?” you asked, unable to fathom how a family as rich as his could not find a way to ensure their beloved son remained a flawless citizen.

“It’s not the first time I got into a fight,” he explained simply and, if you hadn’t known the truth, you’d have thought he really was just your usual troublemaker with no strong backing from his relatives whatsoever. “Some of those fights were more public than others.”

“And your dad—?”

“He took care of it to the best of his ability,” Jungkook admitted, sounding far less dignified than when he mentioned he had a record – as if that was something to be proud of. “But he can only do so much without staining his own reputation. It’s just a few misdemeanors anyway, so he decided it wasn’t worth it. If it proved to be a problem later on, he thought he could just blame it on my youth.”

You chose not to voice it – to avoid an argument that would certainly arise because that was just how Jungkook was – but you couldn’t help thinking that his father’s reasoning was actually different. Maybe he chose not to cover Jungkook’s previous arrest up to teach him a lesson.

“Does that bother you?” you asked instead.

“What?

“That he didn’t put enough work to cover this up.”

Jungkook looked down. All of your questions about his feelings, his wishes, his ambitions were so unusual to him that he didn’t even know what the proper way of answering them was, because you looked like you genuinely wanted to know. You didn’t ask just to be polite.

“No,” he ended up saying, “I didn’t want him to cover it up. And it’s not like I acted out to get his attention, or anything. He seemed really tired of it all when he had to deal with that. You know he’s usually the sort who gets his frustrations out vocally?”

“Yeah,” you said.

“Well, when he picked me up from the police station, he didn’t say a word,” Jungkook said. “It was like I’d unlocked a new level of disappointment – one I’d never seen before – where he was just quietly fuming. Or just… so disappointed, he couldn’t even begin to find words.”

You felt jittery. It was hard to walk when your legs kept trying to bounce nervously, hoping to rid you of the excessive anxiety.

“I never knew this,” you said.

Jungkook gave you a smile that wasn’t supposed to seem sad but, because it was purposefully meant to conceal his despair, sad was exactly what it seemed like.

“My mom didn’t tell yours,” he said.

“But they tell each other everything,” you felt the need to point out but you could feel your own naivety getting the best of you – even the people, who had no secrets, had secrets.

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook replied. “But I don’t think my mom would have had it in her to brag to her best friend – with a straight-A student for a daughter – that her son got arrested. She may have been less obvious than my dad, but she was still just as disappointed.”

Your heart clenched uncomfortably when he mentioned your scholarly achievements and, for a brief moment, you almost felt bad for being such a good student when he was struggling to be a good person.

But you didn’t think now was the time to feel bad about yourself – especially since there wasn’t anything you should have felt bad about in the first place – and you eyed Jungkook carefully before finally daring to ask, “did they ever say they were disappointed in you?”

“They don’t have to say it, it’s plain and obvi—”

“No, but maybe that’s just you assuming things,” you interrupted. Your mind conjured up a thousand scenarios of how this conversation could have gone wrong, but your mouth kept moving, “you have that right. I mean, they have been disappointed in you plenty of times before. But maybe this time they weren’t. Maybe they were just scared for you.”

Jungkook looked at you and he wanted to believe that you were basing your speculations on some legitimate evidence that he’d missed, instead of just hoping that this was true. But he’s known his parents long enough to recognize their defeat.

“Why would they be scared?” he questioned rhetorically. “I know how to throw a punch.”

“Well, maybe that’s why,” you said.

“No, that’s not it,” he said firmly. “They don’t get scared when I get into fights. They get frustrated, like how did I dare to do that? And then do that again. And again. Maybe they also get confused: I am their son and yet they can’t explain why I am this way.”

He said it like he was diseased – like lacking proper conflict-resolution skills and being impulsive was an illness he’d inherited from someone and, since no one else in his family was sick, that had to mean he didn’t belong there. He belonged somewhere else.

And every time he did something that did not fit into the frame of acceptable behavior in his family’s eyes, it just reminded them that he was the black sheep in a herd of white ones. How did he get here?

“It’s not just you,” you said, your heart hurting. No matter if his parents were really disappointed in him or if they were just worried for him, no child should ever feel like he didn’t belong at home. “Kids from close, loving families rarely grow up to be impulsive or, well, aggressive.”

He clenched his jaw after you said this and that was when you knew that, despite feeling shunned for not being the son his parents had wanted, Jungkook was still their son. They were still his parents.

“I was always like this,” he declared. “From the day I was born. You know that. The relationship with my family hardly changed anything.”

You wondered if he was aware he was defending his family – the family that constantly hurt him with their expectations – by shifting all blame to himself.

“They could have worked as a preventative measu—”

“How, exactly? Remember the time I gave three kids from my pre-school class bloody noses?” he said to prove his point. “Because one of them mocked my drawing of a giraffe and the other two laughed.”

“I-I remember—” you struggled to find a word, “that. It’s not an acceptable way to solve conflict. If they’d taught you that—”

“Acceptability is subjective,” he snapped.

“Uh, sure,” you said and then stopped to wonder if you had the right to draw these conclusions about him.

You thought that, if only Jungkook had gotten more love from the people who were most responsible to love him, he may have grown up to be different – but saying that out loud would have made you sound far too condescending and it would have made a normal person feel uneasy.

Someone who was as arrogant as Jungkook was bound to get riled up – he was already defensive enough as it was – and, maybe, rightfully so. He wasn’t telling you about his family to have you psychoanalyze him. He was just talking to you.

“I-I guess there are other factors that determine how a person chooses to react to something,” you said, threading more carefully now. “For example, you let your testosterone make your decisions for you.”

The sudden transition to biology confused him as he turned to look at you with furrowed eyebrows. “My testosterone?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s obviously your uncontrollable hormones that get you in these situations in the first place. You’re like a twelve-year-old boy, unsure what to do with himself, so you just go with whatever your instincts tell you.”

“Fourteen-year-old boy,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is I was fourteen when we stopped being friends.”

That only confused your further. “What does that have to do with—”

“Maybe you were the preventative measure that my family was supposed to be for me,” Jungkook said, the words pouring out as smoothly and elegantly as the floating of your skirt in the windy night. He chuckled humorlessly as he finished, “and then I lost that – the only positive influence in my life.”

You wanted to tell him that he never lost you. That he tried to rid himself of you, he tried to walk away – but he never lost you. No matter how much you wanted to detach yourself from him, to walk away, to move on – he never lost you.

And, more than that, you wanted to ask him why that happened – to demand why he walked away – but allowing him to shift the focus to your relationship would have been selfish. This wasn’t about you-and-him right now. This was about you and him.

Because you were here. You were always here. But Jungkook wasn’t – not always. Often, he fell out of touch with himself completely. And if there was no him, there could never be you-and-him.

“You… you need to be the positive influence in your life,” you said instead, advocating for independence when all you wanted was for him to let you hold his hand so he was steadier on his feet. “You can’t rely on others to get you out of the messes you create all the time.”

“I know,” Jungkook said but he no longer felt like discussing the reasons for his behavior, because every reason eventually led back to you – and when he thought of you, he couldn’t think of anything else. “But I never learned how to take care of myself, did I?”

“No, you never did,” you agreed and then, watching him smile appreciatively – you rarely ever agreed with him – you continued more playfully, “maybe it’s time you started learning, you big baby.”

He laughed and even the wind stopped to listen.

“Maybe,” he said then, the same pathetic hopeful tone that was in your voice before, now evident in his, “I do have you to help me again, don’t I?”

You do, you wanted to say, you’ve always had me. But you only smiled.

“I can’t be the one to handle your conflicts for you,” you said instead. “You have to learn how to do that yourself. How to do that responsibly. I can just… be there for you.”

And, much to the joy of your body that was aching to support him, he smiled and said, “that’s more than enough.”

“Okay,” you swallowed. You felt relieved suddenly – like the tension that surrounded you since you left the party had finally dissipated – and, paradoxically, nervous. Like you didn’t know how to act anymore.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice that, however, as he teased, “support me even when I inevitably fuck up again, though, yeah?”

You raised your eyebrows, countering his lively pout.

“That’s not a very good attitude,” you said. “How do you expect to change if you’re setting yourself up for failure from the get-go?”

He shrugged. “By a miracle?”

“Jungkook.”

“Come on. I have you rooting for me. I won’t let you down,” he assured you and then, carelessly throwing his arm around your shoulders, added, “I am a great actor. I just have to start playing a responsible role.”

“It’s your father you’re supposed to prove your responsibility to, not me,” you reminded him – just like he’d reminded you a few days ago in your dorm room – although your skin was burning from his touch. “But I’m hoping that by pretending to be responsible, you’ll actually learn a thing or two and prove yourself to us both.”

Jungkook looked at you – his face so close and so welcoming – and said, in the most laid-back fashion that was possible for someone who’d just crossed half the campus while analyzing his childhood issues, “you’re very preachy when you’re drunk.”

It felt like you’d left the party years ago as you said, “I don’t feel drunk anymore.”

“Oh, well. That doesn’t surprise me then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he leaned his head against yours and the touch of your temples was electrifying -- like shock therapy that numbed every one of your senses except the ones that consumed his close presence. “I’ve missed your lectures.”

You doubted that but your voice didn’t sound convincing when you spoke – he probably wouldn’t have even heard you if he wasn’t so close, “have you, really?”

“Hmm,” he purred and your pulse nearly flat-lined. “I’ve missed everything about you.”

If you two weren’t walking so close to each other, if he didn’t have his arm around your shoulders, if his head wasn’t pressed against yours – then maybe his words wouldn’t have strummed the strings of your heart so terribly and so delightfully. Maybe you wouldn’t have forgotten all about the seven-year-long silence when you heard the song his words played for you.

But you were walking so close to each other – so close, in fact, that a passerby wouldn’t have been able to tell where your body ended and his began; you shared a silhouette.

And he did have his arm around your shoulders – pulling you closer to him while making sure you were steady on your feet even if his own balance was off.

And his head was pressed against yours – so gently and yet so naturally, it was as if there were magnets inside your skulls and they literally pulled you to one another.

And, thus, when you reached the door of your dorm room, you could not imagine yourself saying goodbye. You couldn’t imagine watching him walk away.

“Are you coming in?” you asked as Jungkook waited a few steps away, unsure how to behave now that the moment-at-the-end-of-the-night had arrived.

“I thought you said you felt like going to sleep,” he said perhaps a little awkwardly.

“I do,” you said and maybe you were still drunk without realizing it but you felt bold enough to add, “but I also feel like spending time with you in a place where... we don’t have to worry about what other people think. Not to mention, your wound needs to be taken a look at.”

“My wound?” his bruised cheekbones had completely escaped his mind. “Oh, that—it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“At least, let me put a band-aid on it,” you asked.

“And cover up my beautiful face?” he scoffed, using his favorite strategy of dealing with problems – deflection. “No.”

You sighed. “It won’t be beautiful if it scars.”

“Are you kidding?” he still didn’t give in, bringing a hand down the side of his own face and clenching his teeth so you wouldn’t see him wince when he touched the wound. “It’ll make me look badass.”

“You’re a baby,” you declared and then ordered, “come inside.”

“Not if you’re going to be pulling your medical equipment out on me—”

Groaning, you cut him off with a reluctant – but irritated – promise, “I won’t. Now, come in.”

“Are you sure?” Jungkook checked again but he was already reaching for the door that you kept open for him.

“Yes,” you said.

He still hesitated. “Because you don’t have to—”

His uncertainty did terrible things to your boldness – it seemed to vanish with every moment that he did not enter your room.

“Look, if you’d rather get back to the party,” you said, “and drink some more of Taehyung’s painfully unbearable drinks, then, by all means, go—”

“No,” he cut in sharply – maybe too sharply – and then, just to be sure you understood why he cut you off, he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

“Well, come inside, then,” you said and, because you were nervous, you felt the need to add, “but I can’t promise to be more entertaining than absinthe.”

He snickered, finally walking past your doorway. “Oh, you have a far bigger effect on me than absinthe.”

He stopped to take his shoes off. You stopped to lock the door.

The hallway of your dorm-room was very small for two people but, locked away from the rest of the world, you suddenly felt like you were home. Like there was nothing to be nervous about here. Like you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades.

“Ah,” you started to say because you were back with your best friend that you’d known for decades, “so it burns your throat when you get in contact with me and you feel sick every time you look at me?”

“That’s—” Jungkook paused, one sneaker off. He raised his eyes to look at you. “You really hate it that much, huh?”

“It’s a rational feeling,” you said, unbuckling the strap of your own shoes. “Absinthe is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“Well, if we’d stayed longer, you would have seen what my bandmates do with it,” Jungkook said. “It involves a cube of sugar and a whole lot of cursing because their hands shake too much to do anything.”

He hadn’t realized just how hypnotizing it could be to watch someone take off their shoes so, when you finally placed your shoes on the floor, your feet aching from the torture you’d put them through tonight, he was still staring at your legs.

You cleared your throat, somewhat self-conscious now. “I’m, uh—I’m a little intrigued.”

This got him to lift his eyes to your face. “Oh? So… does that mean there’s a little possibility you’ll go to the party with me again next week?”

“Next week,” you repeated, realizing that this was Parental Advisory’s routine: parties every Friday, hangovers every Saturday. You turned around with a soft sigh and headed into the bedroom, plopping down on your bed. “I didn’t sign up for that.”

Jungkook chuckled, sitting down on the bed next to you.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, keeping respectful distance from you – because you weren’t walking across campus anymore, now you were on a bed – but still remaining close enough to hear your faint breathing. “I was just kidding. We can stay here.”

You looked at him. “No.”

“No?” he repeated, his voice breaking in surprise. “Okay, then. We don’t have to do anything togeth—”

“No, I just mean—you like that,” you clarified before his stomach could drop any lower. “You enjoy partying, hanging out with people, drinking, dancing, and all that. I don’t want you to give that up to hang out with me here.”

You were saying you didn’t want to bore him. You were saying you didn’t want him to overstep the boundaries of your fake relationship.

He’d never heard you say something so stupid before and he didn’t realize that it was his own words that got you to feel this uncertain.

“I’m not giving anything up,” he said because, apparently, even the smartest people sometimes needed to have it spelled out for them. “I do enjoy that but I also enjoy spending time with you.”

In your defense, it wasn’t spelling out that you needed. It was reassurance.

“We haven’t done that since we were… well, in middle school,” you pointed out and your last words were an incantation of a silence spell that prevented you from saying anything else for the next few minutes.

This time was no exception, as both of you shared a thoughtful moment, avoiding each other’s eyes, and then Jungkook clapped his palms on his knees, nodding his head in the direction of your laptop on the desk across the room.

The spell was broken. You weren’t going to speak of that day. Not today.

“Well, come on, then,” he said. “We have a lot of catching up to do, it’s been seven years. Show me the movies I’ve missed.”

“Lots of movies came out in seven years,” you replied but got up from the bed to get your computer nevertheless.

“Well,” Jungkook said, dramatically extending his arm to check the non-existent watch on his wrist. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

You sat back down, smiling at his antics, and pulling up your Videos folder. You scanned it briefly, trying to pick one movie that would leave a long-lasting impression on him – even though you couldn’t explain why you wanted to impress him.

“Don’t think about it,” he suggested. “Just choose the first one. We’ll watch them all.”

You scoffed. “There’s not a chance in hell you’ll stay awake through more than one movie.”

“You want to bet?” he countered, knowing your taste in movies too well. “After the movie you’ll choose, I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep for a week.”

You rolled your eyes as you smiled – he’d never grown to like horror movies as much as you did – and teased, “don’t be a baby.”

“I can’t,” he pouted on purpose, hoping for more of your sympathy and not knowing that he already had all of it. “I scare easily.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You just get distracted all the time and everything catches you unprepared.”

“That’s the same thing,” he insisted.

Sighing as you finally settled on the movie, you gave him a look. “Just try not to fall asleep on me, okay?”

“Do you mean that literally or—”

“I mean it in every sense of the word,” you replied. “If you start snoring during my favorite part, I might not be able to forgive you.”

“So strict about snoring,” he said, a mocking grin on his lips.

“I am,” you replied, completely serious. “So, now that we’ve established that—”

“We established that in second grade,” he reminded you, “when you tried to suffocate me with a pillow during our sleepover.”

“I…” you started to say but the memory was too unexpected and overwhelming – and he didn’t remember it correctly. “I tried to get you to stop snoring!”

“By putting a pillow on my face!”

“Nothing else worked!”

“You could have kicked me!”

“I did!” you said. “Several times. My feet bruised.”

He rolled his eyes, adamant to prove your murderous tendencies. “Oh, please.”

You shook your head, the argument so pointless and unnecessary that you chose to opt for a compromise. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen tonight, alright?”

“It won’t,” he assured you, “I stopped snoring after that incident. I guess, you could say I haven’t recovered from that trauma. I’m constantly afraid someone’s going to try to use a pillow on me—”

“I wasn’t trying to do that!” you said with a groan and when he opened his mouth to protest again, you cut in quickly, “drop this or I really will suffocate you with a pillow.”

He closed his mouth again and then nodded, impressed.

“Still very strict about snoring,” he corrected his earlier statement. “I’ll keep my breathing in check.”

You finger lingered on the mouse button, ready to play the movie you’d picked, but your mind lingered on the memory he’d brought back and all the other memories that came with it. It’s already been a long night, full of reminiscing, discussing, and analyzing.

But you couldn’t resist it.

You’d wanted to know for so long – even if there was nothing to know and it was something that just happened as things sometimes did – that even the late hour couldn’t stop you.

You didn’t want closure. Seven years have gone by – you didn’t want it.

You needed it.

“Can I ask you something?” you started, swallowing slowly.

“Of course,” Jungkook said, unsure why your face had clouded all of a sudden.

“It’s been seven years,” you said and the thunderclouds started to make sense. “Why did you talk to me that night at the party?”

The question was so loaded, he probably wouldn’t have been able to answer it without reflecting on his entire life. But right now, after the night he’d had, you managed to catch him off guard and his mind was void of any answer that made sense.

“Because you were there,” he said because that was the simplest way of explaining it.

You needed more. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” he shifted his weight to his side until he was half-laying on your bed, his left shoulder pressed into the corner where your bed met the wall. His body was facing you but his eyes were on your hands, “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a very long time. Actually, since the day I told you we shouldn’t be talking anymore,” he paused here. He never learned how to talk about that without pausing. “Not a clever decision on my part.”

“Mm, no, not really,” you felt the bitterness in your voice as you said this but you didn’t try to justify it – and Jungkook didn’t need you to.

“Yeah,” he only nodded. “So, I don’t know. I saw an opportunity to talk to you again – and I was drunk, and sort of on a post-show high – so I took it.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he confirmed but it sounded like only one half of an answer that you needed. Jungkook didn’t know how to explain the other half and he naively hoped he wouldn’t have to. “Timing, right?”

You weren’t sure if that was right. He could tell.

“You deserve a better answer,” he acknowledged, sighing heavily, “but I don’t want to lie and make up stories about how I’d been—I don’t know—bracing myself to talk to you for a long time, how I planned it all out, because that’s not true. I did want to talk to you, I’ve wanted to every day, but I probably never would have. Not if I wouldn’t have seen you right then and there, in front of me.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t think I was in any position to seek you out,” he replied, “and, actually, I sort of got the feeling that you weren’t that excited to see me, either. Every time I saw you on campus, I’d blink, and you’d be on the other side of the street, already far away from me.”

Fair enough, you weren’t entirely blameless in this, either, you decided, and then admitted, “yeah. Maybe I was avoiding you a little.”

He chuckled. “I deserve that. I made the decision to… to stop talking to you and I knew I should have stuck with it.”

“Can I ask you something else, then?”

He knew what you were going to ask as he exhaled shakily and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Why did you make that decision?” you asked, unafraid of the potentially childish connotations in your voice. You just needed to know. You’d waited for this long enough. “Why did you decide to stop being friends with me?”

Even though he hadn’t answered you yet, just getting the question out of your system felt so relieving, it was as if Sisyphus had dropped his boulder on your chest seven years ago and now, at long last, you’d rolled it off.

The boulder seemed to roll off onto Jungkook, however, as he tried to open his mouth to speak several times, but always ended up closing it again. He didn��t know where to begin.

“We… we were so different back then,” he finally said. He looked at you then and there was hope in his eyes – he wanted you to understand him without any words. “Remember?”

“From right now?” you asked. You weren’t willing to try to decipher the signals his eyes were sending you. Right now, you needed him to use his words.

“From each other,” he clarified. “You were always so focused on your studies and spent so much time working with the school staff when you were in the student council, you were essentially the de facto headmaster of our school.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Right. And I was… well, you knew me then. I haven’t changed much.”

“The troublemaker,” you said and then, almost automatically, tried to make light of the situation because he looked like he was having a hard time and you didn’t want that. “Good thing there are no more PTA meeting in college, huh?”

Jungkook laughed at this but his laughter lacked humor.

“Yeah,” he said, not sounding wistful in the slightest. He wouldn’t go back to high school even if someone paid him to do it. “There’s still the risk of expulsion even without them. That never goes away in any institution.”

“It’s what brings you to life, though,” you said, your previous discussion returning to your mind. “You love the adrenaline, the danger of doing something that might have long-lasting repercussions. You always have.”

“And you don’t,” he said sadly. “That’s why I felt like—I didn’t want to—I was bad for you.”

Your loud heartbeat momentarily halted your ability to comprehend his words. “Hmm?”

“You probably don’t know this, but,” he hesitated on the very edge of what he knew you needed to hear, “I’d overheard my parents talk about us once, after our middle school graduation.”

There it was again. The last day of your middle school.

Thankfully, this time, the silence spell didn’t linger and Jungkook continued. Actually, this time, the spell didn’t even work on him – now that he’d decided to answer your question – now that he’d found how to answer it – he couldn’t be silenced.

“And the only thing I remember from their conversation,” he said, “is my mom – who’s been on my side for as long as I could remember, standing up for me to my teachers even when they believed I was a lost cause – saying to my dad that she was afraid I was going to be the end of you.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed.

After spending almost every day with Jungkook – and his family, too – for years, you hadn’t even considered that they may have been talking about you when you weren’t there.

“She, um… she saw something between us that we didn’t, I guess,” Jungkook continued as his fingers absentmindedly toyed with the edge of your blanket, his eyes on the shredded fleece. “And she believed I would be the reason why you stopped working so hard. Why you lost your ambitions. She thought I’d turn you into someone entirely different.”

“But that’s—why would she—” all the questions you had tried to pour out of you at once.

“She saw how much we meant to each other and—”

“Yeah, but—” you cut him off and, closing your eyes for a moment to settle on just one of the many things you wished him to explain, you tried, “I mean, why couldn’t she have looked at it from a different perspective? I could have been the good influence that you needed in your life. Y-you said I was.”

“I thought you were. I still think you are. But, um…” Jungkook spoke to the fleece blanket because he couldn’t speak to you, “she… she didn’t seem to think you had it in you to resist me.”

“Resist you?” you repeated, unexpectedly offended. But that only lasted for a second before you felt it necessary to disarm yourself and stop pretending. You were absolutely devoted to Jungkook when you were growing up. “Oh, fuck it,” you said. “She probably had a point.”

Jungkook was prepared to hear your offence. He was not prepared to hear that.

“She had?” he repeated, looking at you for the first time since he started talking.

You swallowed the ball in your throat. “Yeah.”

Shakily, Jungkook concluded, “so, I made the right choice, then.”

“By putting an end to our friendship?” you asked, suddenly aware of how cold your body seemed to be, your hands especially – and painfully so, too. Dancing with the ghosts of your past proved to be difficult. “Was that for my benefit, then?”

It wasn’t the disbelief in your voice that he focused on. It was the anger.

You’d moved on. He thought you moved on – you were still the same in almost every aspect that he remembered, but you were also so different: so mature, so determined, so certain.

And he was partially right – you clearly didn’t hold a very strong grudge. But he also felt ridiculous for assuming that, despite it being so long, you wouldn’t still be angry about this now.

You’d allowed him back into your life and blessed him by not asking him to explain himself for weeks before you finally gathered the courage to do it; it was natural for you to feel angry about something that you’d waited for for so long.

“That’s… well, it was supposed to be,” he explained and then felt the need to defend his decision by saying, “that’s how everyone seemed to see it. I didn’t want you to lose the best parts of yourself because of me. And I don’t doubt that your parents were also relieved when I was no longer such a prominent part of your life.”

You had considered the possibility that Jungkook ended your friendship per the request of his parents. But you had assumed they saw you as a threat to him – even if, in retrospective, that didn’t make a lot of sense; what threat could you have possibly posed to him or the company?

Instead, it was the other way around.

Looking down, you said, “my parents weren’t relieved.”

“They weren’t?” Jungkook repeated because he couldn’t find enough words of his own.

“No,” you confirmed, remembering the not-so-distant times when Jungkook’s name was a forbidden word at your dinner table. “Hardly any parent would feel relieved to see their child cry her eyes out for days.”

Admitting this made you feel vulnerable and it would have made you feel pathetic, too, if Jungkook didn’t immediately wince after you said this – not from pity, but from his own hurt.

“I’m sorry,” he said because he had to, and because he was. And then, even though he didn’t have to, he continued, “I didn’t handle that well, either. I broke my leg in a bike accident about three weeks after we last talked.”

You frowned, focusing all of your energy into your confusion so your wet eyelashes wouldn’t release the droplets of tears down your cheeks. “Was that—”

“That’s how I deal with my emotions,” he said with a nod, confirming your guess. “That is, I don’t. I get reckless and I do stupid shit. That’s the last time I ever saw Dad’s beloved Ducati. He sold it.”

“He sold the bike?” you asked. The bike had belonged to Jungkook’s father who was a casual collector of sports cars and motorcycles – much to the joy of his underage son – but Jungkook was never permitted to drive any of them, at least, not until he was “old enough” according to his father’s standard.

“On the same day they ‘scraped my body off the pavement.’ That’s how he put it,” Jungkook said. “I only got to ride it that one time. Clearly, I’m not a natural. But dad couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to get on a bike for the first time without a helmet or any help at all. He wasn’t even looking for reasons why I did it, he didn’t ask me anything. Just sold the bike, locked up the garage, and didn’t talk to me for a week after I returned from the hospital. Actually—t-that was the first major thing that lead to me moving out of their house later on.”

You replayed his words for a long time, thinking and trying to understand.

“Why did you ask me to put this act? To play a couple for your parents?” you asked when you thought you were ready for the final cross on the last T. “If they thought you were a bad influence on me, this—seeing us back together again, could have painted you in the wrong light again.”

He didn’t think so.

“It’s been so long,” he said, “and you’re arguably the best student in your year. You’re determined and driven. And you’d rather kick my ass to the curb than give in to me and what I want. You… you affect me in ways I could never affect you. Control me in ways I could never control you. And I mean that in a good way. You are a good influence on me. And my parents can see that now.”

Obviously, he wasn’t entirely aware of how much control he still had over you, but because now you knew that this was precisely the reason why you’d stopped being friends seven years ago, you chose not to bring it up.

“I… I don’t control you,” you said.

“You do,” he disagreed. “Maybe not intentionally—actually, probably not; I’d like to think that you didn’t want me to suffer—but you do. You want to stay inside of your room, watching movies – and I want that, too. You want me to come to class and I want that, too. You want me to change and I’m changing.”

“I just—I don’t want you to kill yourself with your recklessness. But I don’t want you to be different,” you said, looking down. “I’d... always liked you the way you were.”

Your broken-up confession couldn’t have warmed his heart more. And yet, he had to point out, “I was unbearable.”

You gave him a look that wasn’t threatening at all because your eyes were still glossy from the tears.

“I know,” you said.

He smiled in spite of himself. “And you still liked me that way?”

You nodded, not saying anything else because he already knew the answer to that—and every other—question.

“I’m sorry for these seven years,” Jungkook said then and maybe that wasn’t enough to cure the wounds the years had left but it was a start. “You had a future ahead of you and I didn’t. My parents could see that but there was little they could do. I had to understand and deal with the fact that I was going to fall off the rails sooner or later myself. I was fourteen and I had to understand that. And I did. I knew that. And I also knew I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You didn’t deserve that.”

You fell into silence again.

You knew you wouldn’t have walked away from him then – anything he’d have asked, you would have given him. Any cliff he would have jumped off of – you would have followed.

To realize that Jungkook didn’t let you go because he didn’t want to be your friend anymore, or because he got tired of you, or because he didn’t care about you anymore -- or because of any other reason you tried to find over the years -- but rather, he let you go because he knew you wouldn’t, was groundbreaking.

It didn’t fix the hurt, it didn’t make it better, and, perhaps, nothing would – the years have gone by and you couldn’t get them back – but now you knew that the end of your friendship was a sacrifice of sorts.

You were intertwined together – it was you-and-him, always you-and-him – and you were comfortable living this way, both of you were. But that wasn’t right. It wasn’t healthy.

Except, you weren’t the one who had her eyes opened seven years ago – if there was no you and him, there could never be you-and-him – and so Jungkook ended up having to break out of your comfort zone, to leave your sanctuary, and walk in a different direction. On a different road.

All so you could have a road for yourself.

“I’m…” you tried to say but the tears that had welled up in your eyes were now cascading down your face and Jungkook – alert as soon as he saw that you were crying – sat up straight. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for telling me.”

“I… you’re welcome,” he said, wanting to reach out and wipe the tears away but watching you do it yourself. “Although, I wish I didn’t have to tell you anything. Not just because I don’t want you to think about my mom differently after this—she always wanted what’s best for you, we both did—but also because I… I wish there had been a different way. A way where we could have kept in touch and still remained individuals.”

“Maybe there was no such way at the time,” you said. “We’d been close from the day we were born. Maybe we needed to spend some time apart to learn how to be ourselves.”

“Maybe,” he agreed but he didn’t think that was fair. “We were too close.”

“We were,” you said and couldn’t help sniffling; the tears have started to block your breathing. “Sorry, I just—it didn’t have to be seven years. I-I mean, it doesn’t take that long for people to mature.”

“No. It didn’t have to be,” Jungkook said but the fact that he agreed with you didn’t bring you much joy because his words were sad. “I have no excuse for that.”

Knowing that you could have been setting yourself up for more heartache, you still dared to ask, “would you have talked to me sooner if I hadn’t been avoiding you?”

“Probably,” he said, afraid to look at you in case he’d lose control of himself at the sight of your tears. “I-I couldn’t resist myself. But would you have replied to me?”

You looked down, making it easier for another tear to trail down your cheek. “I did that night at the party.”

Jungkook bit his lip. “Would I have seen you again if I hadn’t crashed my car?”

You inhaled sharply, not liking that this was what it came to. “No. Probably not.”

“It didn’t have to be seven years,” he said again, nodding thoughtfully, “but I think that we… started to talk again right when we had to. When it was time.”

You didn’t like that, either. “That can’t be true.”

“We’ll never know what’s true,” he said, leaning in closer to you but still not daring to reach out and touch you. “But it’s been long enough.”

“It has been,” you said, nodding and, feeling more tears coming. You sniffled, throwing your head back to fight the crying, and excused your emotions again, “it’s been a long day. It’s been seven long years.”

It’s been a long life; but you didn’t think of your years as his best friend to be draining. If anything, these were the years that made you feel alive: both of your families so close, it was like you grew up with two sets of parents, and with a soulmate for a best friend.

It’s what happened next that was a task.

Life had been pouring out in every shade of color around you when you knew him, when you laughed with him. And when you didn’t, you had to physically strain yourself to see the world in anything other than black-and-white.

You’d worked so hard to get used to the darkness of your life that the explosion of the color spectrum when you finally got to laugh with him again was almost painful. You’d grown so accustomed to monochrome that seeing colors all over again felt scary. Dangerous. Potentially hurtful.

But now you knew he never meant to take the colors out of your life. By doing so, he ended up having to sacrifice his own brightness. His own light.

Maybe what hurt the most right now wasn’t the memory of the years that you’d spent without talking, but rather the pointlessness of it all because here you were again: together. Affecting each other in ways ordinary people should not have been allowed to affect one another.

“Come here,” Jungkook finally asked, extending his arms, but you shook your head, not wanting to admit to how big the hurricane cloud in your chest was. “Come here, please.”

The insistence of his tone wasn’t what got you to move closer in the end – it was the pain in his eyes.

This had hurt him, too. He was the one who had to find a different way so he wouldn’t have to end your friendship. He was the one who eventually failed and had to say goodbye – stone you so you’d run away. Wound you, so you wouldn’t come back.

It would have hurt your pride if you didn’t love him so much.

And he couldn’t find it in himself to say how much he wanted you to come back after he told you to leave; how much he agonized over your phone number – which he’d deleted off his phone only to realize that he knew it by heart – and how much he wished he was different—better—so he wouldn’t have to stay away from you. He couldn’t find the words.

So, he just held you – like it was the first and the last time he was ever going to hold you. And he hoped that this would be enough for you to know that he knew you loved him. He’d always known.

And he loved you, too.

“I’ve missed you. Everything about you,” he whispered, clutching your body tightly against his own and sinking his face into your hair. “So much.”

Your hair grew wet – you could feel the pain leave his heart in tears – and, even though you’d seen him cry before, you’d never cried with him. But it felt inevitable now – like everything you’d done together in the past few weeks was only the prologue and tonight you were turning the page, you were starting the first chapter of the rest of your lives.

It hurt because of how long the prologue was. It hurt because of the seven empty pages.

But it felt so relieving to reach the end. So freeing.

You wrapped your arms around him tighter because you were ready to work on letting go of the pain, and you were ready to move on, and you were so happy to have him with you. You didn’t know what awaited you after tonight but that scared you much less than all that you’d already survived.

“If history repeats itself,” you said, your nose stuffed from the crying, “we’ll find a different way, right?”

Jungkook considered pulling away when you said this but that didn’t seem right. Not holding you when he could, didn’t seem right.

“We will,” he said into your hair. “I’m not leaving again.”

And he meant it – in the long run, at least. Because this night was coming to an end.

Your laptop – and the movie you didn’t get to watch – was long abandoned as you and Jungkook sat on your bed, your legs crossed and hearts open, and you talked.

You talked and the seven empty pages filled. The filled with words, written in different fonts with different colors, but they filled.

You talked and your bodies grew tired even if your minds didn’t, so you lied down on your backs next to each other, the white concrete ceiling painting itself in the colors of all that you’d missed about each other.

You talked and the hours went by – minute by minute, morning was creeping up on you.

“It’s late,” Jungkook said when your room got so dark, he couldn’t make out which bits of skin, glistening in the pale light from the street lamps outside, were yours and which were his. But even so, he remained on his back next to you. “I should probably go home. Maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow? Or next week?”

“I… I don’t have plans tomorrow,” you said and you wanted this night to keep going so badly, that if you’d been Faust, your soul would have gone straight to hell: beautiful moment, do not pass away! “Will the party be over now?”

“No, probably not yet,” Jungkook replied, “won’t be the first time I’ll be woken up by someone drunkenly smashing a bottle or something,” he said and then, when you bit your lip, clearly concerned, he added, “it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Then, because you were not Faust and the devil had not chained your soul to the pits of hell just yet, you found a way to stop the moment as you said, “you could stay here.”

“Hmm?” Jungkook turned his head to look at you, unsure if he understood your offer. “H-how do you mean?”

“Just… stay here,” you said with a shrug as if it was that simple. Your eyes remained on the ceiling. “The RA didn’t see you come in with me. And, usually, no one smashes anything in the middle of the night here.”

“Are you sure?” he asked again. He didn’t want to go – but just like he did before coming inside earlier tonight, he didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for; God knew you’d already done so much for him.

But you assured him, “yeah. You didn’t want me walking home alone, well, maybe I don’t want you stumbling around at 3 AM, either. You’d already had one fight today.”

“It’s, uh,” he checked his phone, “four-thirty.”

You gave him a look.

“But your concern is understandable,” he added quickly, catching on, “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable with you here.”

“Okay,” he said, your gazes so intensely focused on each other, both of you were almost paralyzed as you lied side by side.

“Yeah?” you asked. “So, you’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay if you let me.”

You turned to your side, facing him. Your eyes never left his, just like his did not stray from yours. You even seemed to blink in unison.

“Stay,” you said. “I’m letting you.”

He turned to his side as well and, as his eyes fell to your lips – he could have touched them with his own if he dared to move a little bit closer – you knew you would have allowed him do a lot more than just stay here for a night.

But you’ve come a long way tonight, both literally – when you walked back here from the party – and figuratively – when you scratched the wounds until they bled because there was no other way for them to heal properly – and maybe that was enough for one night.

“Goodnight,” Jungkook whispered because you’d walked so much tonight but your road hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t dare to touch you.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back because just having him here with you after so long felt enough right now. You didn’t have to to touch him.

keep reading | masterlist

#bts reactions #bts fanfiction #bts college au #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #college au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #friends to lovers au #bts f2l #fanfiction #bts au #angst

658 notes · View notes

cali-holland · 4 years

Text

How Perfect You Are- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Prompt: After a rough day, Tom’s there to cheer you up.

Word Count: 1600

Warnings!!: cyberbullying, mentions of anxiety, self-image issues/slut shaming

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a couple months now, and it was written way before the rumors (because nothing has been confirmed by him yet) of Tom having a girlfriend. Respect Tom’s privacy and do not send hate to him or any of the people he is connected to, romantically or otherwise.

~~~

It was a rough day. Like a really rough day.

It seemed like every single uni assignment was due this week, and work was just the worst. You had a raging migraine, and your boss even offered to call someone in early to cover you, but you refused. You needed the hours, you needed the money, you didn’t need the constant searing pain on the top of your skull like someone was trying to pierce through it with a knife.

But you pushed through until you got home. The house was silent, just like the past few nights whenever you arrived home. Tom knew you had a lot of school work to do, so he tried to stay clear of your way. Earlier this week, he attempted to keep to himself in the living room while you worked in your shared room, but he found himself wandering into the bedroom periodically. He had been away filming for months, only to return during one of the most stressful parts of your school year- midterms. He just wanted to hold you, be with you in any way he could, but that was just distracting you and he knew it.

So he made himself busy at Harrison’s place for a few hours every night. It gave you enough time to buckle down and focus on your work, with him coming home shortly before the two of you went to bed. It was hard, but midterms were a bitch and Tom wasn’t about to help you with your fifteen page paper among other essays.

When the clock struck 11 pm, you knew Tom would be home soon and that you should probably stop working in a sad attempt to help your migraine. You changed into your pajamas (which consisted of one of Tom’s t-shirts and your own pajama shorts) and continued to go through your nightly routine. Laying down in the king-size bed, you snuggled down into the warm sheets. As tired as you were, you couldn’t fall asleep until Tom came home, knowing he’d be on his way shortly- after all, Harrison’s home wasn’t far from yours.

Waiting in your comfortably warm bed, you began to scroll through Instagram, wondering what you could have missed in the endless hours of you being offline for studying and work. You smiled to yourself when you realized Harrison had a saved Instagram live posted. Your smile grew even wider once you clicked on it and Tom appeared on the screen beside him. The time stamp of the video showed it was from an hour ago.

They were goofing about, being their normal selves and answering some questions from the comments. One question in particular caught your attention as a fan asked if you and Tom were still together- wow, so much for privacy.

“Yes, we are. She’s studying right now, working very, very hard. I love her loads, so yeah, of course we’re still together.” Tom laughed, almost disbelieving a fan would actually ask such an oddly invasive question. As Harrison continued on and answered another question, you began to read the comments that were drifting over the screen.

‘Can’t believe Tom’s still dating her’,‘They’ve got to be fake- there’s no way Tom would date someone like her’, ‘Tom’s really got bad taste’, the comments kept coming through for the next few minutes. Your eyes shifted to rest on Tom’s face, who seemed rather unbothered, like he hadn’t been reading those hurtful words that not only mocked him, but you and your relationship as a whole.

The live didn’t last long after that. You were grateful that there were no more questions about you specifically. Tom would mention you here and there, but he always did that. You were his favorite thing to talk about (except maybe, you were tied with Tessa) and so he struggled to not constantly gush over you.

You both knew when you started dating, almost 2 years ago now, that you’d be opening your life up to criticism. You were all for bettering yourself and hearing the opinions of other people, but that was with constructive criticism to help you become a better person, not crazy fans that hated you for no legitimate reason. It was definitely a challenge, but you kept your social media all private, only allowing people you know to follow you, like any normal 23 year old would do. Tom tried to keep his posts of you to a minimum, just sometimes he couldn’t help it. He loved you, and he wanted to show you off to the world; however, he did acknowledge the uncomfortable position it put you in.

It wasn’t like you hated his fans, no you loved them. There were some, though, that you didn’t appreciate, and you felt justified feeling that way. They were just upset over seeing their idol be “taken” by you- at least, that’s what you told yourself. You constantly had to remind yourself that no, you were not fat like they said; no, you were not stupid like they said; no, you were not ugly like they said; no, you were not undeserving of Tom like they said. You were you, and you were a great person, you liked yourself.

That was the mindset most nights, but tonight was not one of those nights.

Everything was stressing you out, your anxiety certainly was not in check. Those comments did nothing to improve your mental state, and yet you still found yourself on Tom’s account, looking at the pictures he had up of you, looking at the comments underneath them specifically.

‘Attention whore’, ‘cover up slut’, ‘her dress looks like vomit’, ‘why is Tom dating her’, ‘she doesn’t deserve him’, ‘their relationship cannot be real’. Each comment stung, yet you couldn’t pull yourself away from reading through them over and over again. Your vision began to get blurry from the tears that had welled up in your eyes. You rubbed your eyes, trying to hold yourself together, and threw the phone away from you- you didn’t care where it landed, it just couldn’t be near you.

“Ow!” Tom shouted, and you immediately removed the hand from covering your eyes.

“Tom?” Your voice came out as more of a pathetic squeak. He turned on the light and you could see he was rubbing his knee, where you assumed your phone had hit him.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I just got in.” He said, placing your phone on the bed and beginning to change into his own pajamas.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. My bad.” You mumbled. You picked your phone up and took one last look at the Instagram comments.

“Is everything alright?” Tom asked. He turned off the lights and got into bed beside you under the covers. You wordlessly shrugged a little and set your phone on the nightstand beside you. Tom wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his warm, bare chest. His brown eyes softened, sensing something was wrong. “What’s going on, love?”

“I’m just stressed.” You replied quietly.

“I know when you’re ‘just stressed’. Something else is bothering you. What is it? You can tell me.” He frowned, his hand coming up to move a few loose hairs out of your face before he rested it on your neck with his thumb gently rubbing your jaw.

“I feel like the whole world hates me. School’s awful, work’s awful. And you get to go hang out with Harrison while I’m drowning in just work, and I feel like a bad girlfriend because you want to spend time with me, but I don’t have time for anything. And then, I go online and I just see all this hate. I know that they’re your fans and you love them, but it’s just so draining. I can’t handle it.” The tears were freely flowing from your eyes at this point. Tom shifted so that you could cry into his chest, and he held you tightly, reassuringly caressing your back as he did so.

“Hey, I love you, more than anything in the world. Don’t feel bad that you can’t spend time with me right now. Midterms and work- that’s your life right now. You’ve always waited for me, so I’m going to wait for you. As long as I get to come home and see your beautiful face every night, I’m perfectly content.” He paused and let out a small sigh, “And as for my fans, I’m sorry. I wish they could just understand. I love you, you are my girlfriend, our relationship is real, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Nothing that they say about you is true. Now, who is the most beautiful, kind-hearted, mesmerizing, brilliant woman I know?”

“Your mum.” You said, muffled by his chest.

“Who? I can’t hear you.” Tom teased. You pulled back to look at him. Despite the dark room only being illuminated by the moonlight creeping through the window and the alarm clock perched behind you, you could still see his kind smile as he looked at you. “Don’t say my mum. Come on, who is it?”

“I am.” You replied, unable to stop the small smile that crept its way onto your face as Tom nodded encouragingly.

“You are the most beautiful, kind-hearted- what else did I say?” He paused with a laugh, realized he’d forgotten his own words.

“Mesmerizing, brilliant?”

“Mesmerizing, brilliant woman I know. There’s just too many adjectives to describe just how perfect you are, darling.”

“I love you.” You smiled softly, leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you, too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @tomkindholland

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic

267 notes · View notes

nothorses · 4 years

Note

I see everyone coming to you with some stuff about sexuality lately so maybe you can help... So I have seen stuff that says "if you are uncomfortable with dating women or the idea then you probably don't like women" which is all fine and well and makes sense, but my personal problem is I dated a girl a few years ago now before I realized I was trans, and I did genuinely like her (a lot) and during that relationship I was working through lots of stuff w/ mental health and gender but whenever

I would stop to think about the relationship long term I would think about waking up next to her or like cooking breakfast w/ her etc, but if I ever thought about her in a more intimate manner than cuddling/kissing I found myself deeply uncomfortable and I tried just to push it down and tell myself it wasn't something I needed to worry about at that point (she was very catholic so) anyhow is this "comphet"? Except that word doesn't apply to me because it wasn't a het relationship between us...

And I've tried reading articles or taking those "am I gay?" quizzes and whatever else because I feel kind of lost... I find myself worried maybe I do like women but I have internalized "homophobia" or maybe my dysphoria makes me unable to be comfortable? Which if that's true it would be something I wanted to work on, but.. for some reason saying I'm a gay guy just doesn't seem right either, maybe just bcuz I'm early transition it feels like a lie?

But sometimes I worry I don't like men either. I can't think of a single man I've ever been attracted to in anything? And I tried to date this guy at one point but it felt like I was forcing myself to like him... I don't think I'm aromantic because I like those ideas and concepts, and I guess my attraction to men is moreso an abstract concept to me? Like arms, and hips, and flat chests... Idk I just end up in these really confused circles about what the fuck is up (kyle) and anything I look to for help is very cis TM which doesn't fit my personal understanding of the world or the view I've lived it in...

(f slur for article title use) The closest thing to my own experience I ever read was an article called "Transmasc Comphet (and the road to faggotry)" but transmasc comphet doesn't feel like the right words... I've taken just to calling myself queer and although I know queer can be a full identity it just doesn't feel like one for me because I find myself constantly searching for more "concrete" labels about gender and sexuality. But for some reason nothing ever seems to fit quite right...

I know it's fine to use multiple seemingly contradictory labels but doing that myself feels like an incorrect simplification of my feelings, or I feel like an imposter using certain labels... Which makes me worried I just need to suck it up and get comfortable identifying with the word queer and forget about labels but I feel I probably shouldn't feel the need to restrict myself to a label or it to feel wrong using it if it's the right label.

If a label did actually fit I probably wouldn't have to force myself to think it's real for myself, nor would I constantly be looking elsewhere for the "right" word(s)... So I end up getting overwhelmed and just.. not thinking about it? But that feels like avoiding the issue and I feel guilty for that, and meeting other queer people they're like "oh so you're ___?" and it's like I have no clue, but not cishet..

I read stone butch blues and although I connected to it this part of the story was constant for Jess, always knowing who she liked. I personally can't find the line... I know other people also don't have it figured out, but there's so little information or personal accounts that I end up just feeling more lost.. It's hard because like I know I'm trans but I can't figure out how far I want to transition, or like I can tell my sexuality is queer but I can't tell how far? Am I gay? Bi? Bi-gay? Thank you for reading, I'm just pretty lost and it's been years and it's tiring :/

(Edited how chunks are broken up)

I get a lot of how you’re feeling, and honestly, the best thing for me was to just stop stressing over labels for a while. Focus on your actual feelings, and let those guide your actions; let yourself step forward when it feels like you want to, and step back when it feels like you don’t, and try not to worry about what the reasons for those feelings are in the moment. Just let yourself acknowledge them, respect them, and act on them.

I say this because I agonized over what my feelings Actually Were and what they Actually Meant for years, and it’s that overthinking that lead me into some of the worst decisions I could have made for myself at the time: I was so dissociated from my own feelings that I suppressed them when I shouldn’t have, and faked them when people pressured me to, all without realizing I was doing it.

Gender can also play a huge role in this. Personally, my own perception of my gender- and dissociation from my feelings- meant that I was very much incapable of comfortably occupying a relationship with another man (despite being legitimately attracted to them!) because I couldn’t do it as a man. I felt I would always take on the “woman” role on some level, and it would always be men who saw me, and were attracted to me, as a woman.

It’s taken me a long, long time to finally start acknowledging and respecting my own emotions, and the best thing I did for myself in that time was to just... step away from the label question. Step away from the “what does this feeling come from” and “what does it mean” questions.

Ask yourself what you want, in that moment, and then do that. Those questions will start to answer themselves after a while, as gender feelings settle down, and patterns in your wants & actions begin to emerge. The answers may be wrong even then, but that’s okay! It’s always okay to be wrong. You’ll get there eventually.

That’s what worked for me, anyway, and it’s a choice I made based on my own problems and my own needs. If it resonates, great! If not, that’s alright too; everyone works differently. Just be kind to yourself.

#long post #advice #Anon #Ask

20 notes · View notes

thattimdrakeguy · 4 years

Note

Why, uh, do ppl hate Tim so much? I just fell down a hole of anti tim and I can’t find a..valid reason for the hate besides that fact tht hes rich and white?

From my experience it’s one of those things where Tim has antagonistic relationships with other Bat-Family members like Damian, Jason, and even partially Steph. So they just crap on Tim, because it’ll make their favs look better.

Like that’s genuinely been the main reason I see, and they use the fact he’s rich and white to make it seem like it’s a social justice thing, even though in the end it really isn’t.

I sort of rant for the rest of the post going in more detail, and mentioning things I’ve been shown, and why I think a lot of it is dumb, but basically it’s just people being petty and insecure, and being unable to handle things in any other way than childishly.

For some Jason fans I’ve seen them talk about how much they hate Tim because they replaced the poor kid with a rich kid, but I’m really freaking poor myself. Obviously I’m not homeless, but there was a time in my life where I slept on the floor, and later on after I did have a bed my bed room had a hole in the floor. But, they’re just looking too deep into stuff just to find a problem anywhere they can.

I’ve also seen some say Tim bullied his way into being Robin after the poor kid died. When 1) that isn’t even an accurate description of what happened and 2) they’re obviously just trying to word it the worst way possible, because they’re pretty freaking childish.

Damian fans try to make Tim and his fans out to be racist cause Tim doesn’t like Damian, when that’s actually because Damian got so close to killing Tim I’m pretty sure Tim actually did nearly die from bleeding out. I think also because Tim once said “what about his biology” when referring to Damian, when Tim wasn’t referring to his race, he was referring to how he’s related to criminals and Damian literally had his biology messed with to make him a fierce warrior and a good body for Ra’s.

Steph fans also try to make Tim and his fans out to be sexist. But their reasoning is really weak, because it’s literally just boiled down to Tim being mean to Steph sometimes, but it’s not like that’s cause of her gender for that to make sense. It’s because in context she is an untrained citizens constantly putting herself and potentially others in-danger without any training to feel safe with her constantly being out there. Plus she flirted with him so much to the point it made him uncomfortable and fit the literal definition of sexual harassment.

And they always do that thing where they gotta make their favs sound better, and Tim sound worse. Which admittedly Tim fans do the same thing, but I’m not really here to pick a side. I’m just here pointing out how freaking annoying fandoms can be, because ultimately I don’t really care what fandom does it. At the moment though I can confidently say, that other fandoms are doing it a lot more than Tim ones lately, because I’m in the Tim tags at least twice a day most days and I’ve barely seen it lately.

It’s kind of a thing to project a lot of stuff on the Tim fandom for the same faux-social-justice kind of jargon they try to do. When you see it from a view like mine, where I’m not on any side of any fandom, even if I am a Tim fan (cause I never really been into deep fandom stuff), it just comes off as hypocritical frankly.

(If you want to hear some dumb things some Tim fans do to even it up, they make him the most frail, emo, emotionally unstable kid ever sometimes. They can focus way too much on making him sympathetic (but even then, literally every fandom does that, but the Tim fandom always does it in a very notable depressing way). They also focus so much on coffee and practically act like he’s all pilled up on anti-depressants he just acts weird that it just seems obsessive and very out of character.)

Like as some examples they’ll bring up how Tim doesn’t trust Damian and put him on a list of potential threats. But Damian literally nearly caused Tim’s death, nearly caused it again in the same story, and at the end it’s shown that Damian isn’t on there because Tim considers him a villain, it’s because he has potential to be dangerous. Wonder Woman and Red Tornado are also on the same list.

To me, I just look at that story as ridiculous, because Damian isn’t dumb, and Tim literally spoke against contingency plan stuff before. Damian’s going to need more than to be on a vague list as a potential threat, especially when he’s visibly on the hero side of it. Damian’s not that thinned skin. He’s got a temper, and obviously really doesn’t like Tim, but even when he felt Tim was insulting him or being patronizing to him before he didn’t try to kill him then immediately. He tried to kill him because he thought that’s what he was supposed to do to earn his place beside his father.

The story’s just dumb in-general.

And then they pull out the New 52 story where Tim is just being a dick to Damian for no good reason, but it’s the same kind of thing. Tim was never that much of a dick without being provoked. The only time I think Tim started a fight was in Red Robin where he was on pills that messed with his mental state, and again had everyone out of character regardless. Because 1) Dick wouldn’t just give away Robin from Tim, because he knows better than that. 2) Damian acts like he’s happy his dad is dead and just acts like a generic child and not even like Damian. And 3) I legitimately can’t see Tim just hitting a kid, even Damian, unless a fight already breaks out.

For Steph fans they point out how Tim is passive aggressive to her, constantly doesn’t want her to be Spoiler, and yada yada. Probably because her Batgirl run portrayed that as being mentally scarring to Steph. Even though one of the panels they chose of Tim being upset and not wanting her to be Spoiler, was after Steph caused Tim to be disfigured and on the pills that messed with his mental state to begin with. Which inadvertedly just makes her look self-centered and narcissistic. But again, I don’t even consider that in-character, because 1) I don’t buy that Steph would listen to Batman especially when it puts Tim in danger, because she never gave a crap about what Batman said till they needed to villainize her before she died. 2) Steph can be arrogant and self-centered, she has it in her, but she wouldn’t ever be that self-centered, to the point she just looks narcissistic. 3) I’m pretty sure at the actual time it happened, Steph is shown being aware she messed up. 4) Steph never cared what others thought. She trespassed on other people’s property to party. She’s a very confident person the majority of the time. Batman tells her to knock it off, she might as well flip him the bird because she just finds him more annoying than anything else. It’s literally in her origin that she doesn’t even like Batman.

There’s also the context for in the 90s when Tim first started doing it. Steph was portrayed as a reckless citizen that could potentially get herself and others into harm because she didn’t know what she was doing, and didn’t have the highest morals. That’s not anything any of the bats would encourage. If Tim was extra passive aggressive, he’s a literal thirteen to fifteen year old boy during that time, no duh he’s going to be immature. That still isn’t a sexism thing. Steph may had saved him twice, but that wasn’t portrayed even in-story as a sign she can handle it like a pro. It was always portrayed as “thank goodness she was with Tim at that time, and knew where he was to save him”. Not to say she was completely unskilled, because I’m not taking that far, but just speaking in generalizations.

She was originally added into Robin to be a very specific foil to Tim, and be a general pain in his side. That was their dynamic. If that makes it seem weird that they eventually had them date then I agree.

And at the same time for both of their characters they also ignore what the character they’re trying to defend has done, because Damian literally nearly killed Tim. They act like Tim should just get over it, because Damian was a kid in a cult, but that explains why Damian did it, it doesn’t excuse it. When something like that happens the person who was nearly killed is probably going to be traumatized (rather or not Tim was can be argued, I’m not saying he was or wasn’t), and not ever trust the person. Like that is the natural and most accurate response for it.

It’s just villainizing for the sake of being petty.

With Steph they ignore the fact she essentially sexually harassed Tim all the time and straight up emotionally abused him for an arc. Which her fans hate to hear, but that is stuff that happened. It was written by her creator. I don’t really care if Tim took her costume away or kissed her first, because I’m aware, and I know the contexts, and it doesn’t take away from what she’s done, because that’s not how that works. They also ignore she caused Tim to be disfigured by saying she was just doing what Batman said. But at that point she was also an adult, and would know better.

Like Steph can be reckless, that’s part of her character, but she isn’t an idiot.

In the end, from what all I’ve seen, it’s literally just fandom pettiness. There’s a lot of fans out there that act childish, treat people like idiots, blatantly lie about things, or exaggerate stuff.

It’s all very dumb, but I find it hard to take serious, because if they can’t acknowledge what their own favs have actually done, it just comes across like they genuinely don’t like the character and can’t admit it. They prefer to stay in their candy land so they gaslit others instead.

For me it’s as easy as paying attention to the story, seeing the contexts, and a lot of the time it’s not even a thing that’s in-character for any of the characters involved, or at least the very least not nearly as serious as they treat it.

Especially for around the past 15 or more years or so. By then the care in making everything is crafted and makes sense went down the drain so it’s often that a story doesn’t even make sense to begin with.

They think fandom is about making everyone else look bad apparently, or at least they sure act like it.

Like it’s comics. I think the fandom in-general that gets so worked up over stuff needs to relax, deattach yourself to look at it from the grander view, and calm down over it. Because things aren’t always what they seem. People try to convince themselves of so much stuff, or bully others for so much stuff, and it’s all so petty and unhealthy.

My personal philosophy in the fandom to avoid any toxic behavior is to just keep it real. I don’t lie to myself, I give everything the same standard, I definitely don’t bully or gaslit anyone, I don’t treat my favorite like they’re a real dang person either, and I look at it all like how it is, fiction.

It’s the reason why I get upset at writing and not fictional characters. I don’t ultimately care when a character does a bad thing, unless it’s out of character. To me the only thing I get upset with is the writing, because it’s the only thing that’s real.

Don’t be obsessed, and keep the peace essentially.

60 notes · View notes

rhetorical-ink · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu!! Observations: Ushijima x Sakusa, Ft. Komori and Tendo

**SPOILERS FOR ANIME ONLY’S BELOW**

Okay, am I about to dive into a lengthy post about why UshiSaku may be endgame in Haikyuu!! and how Tendo may be the best wing man for it all?

Uhm, yes. Yes, I am, so bear with me.

I’ve been stewing on this for a while now, so there’s a lot to cover in this post. Let’s dive in!

Ushijima and Sakusa’s Parallels

Okay, first things’s first -- let’s talk about Ushijima, Sakusa, and the parallels the Manga has made with them. Starting with their views of Shoyo Hinata. Let’s begin with Ushijima. While the stereotypical characterization of Ushijima is to make him completely stoic and unfeeling, Ushijima DOES have emotional responses, especially in the manga -- for example, his reaction on the court to Hinata is MUCH stronger than I believe the anime shows:

This is developed further in the Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno match -- as Ushijima struggles with the fact that Hinata is not a skilled player -- he just has natural athleticism and his actions are half “luck” and half the gutsy collaboration of his actions alongside the “reckless” and “wild” other players of Karasuno.

This idea of “luck,” interestingly enough, will come back with Ushijima nearly 200 chapters later...but we do establish here, that Ushijima is the type of person that admires and respects strength, and efforts that are backed by natural talent and disciplined training. It’s only natural that Hinata frustrates him, because at this point in the manga, Hinata and “disciplined training” aren’t exactly words that go together (more on that below).

Verrry similarly, Sakusa has no room for people who lack discipline, though his “discipline” relates more to personal health than just physical preparation for a game. This comes in direct focus in a flashback during the Black Jackal vs Adlers game, when it shows Sakusa first meeting Hinata. Unlike Ushijima, it doesn’t seem like he “hates” Hinata, just has absolutely no desire to be around someone that lets themselves get sick...and he only allows himself to be open to Hinata as a teammate after Hinata expresses that he has indeed grown up since High School.

The manga also points to parallels of how they handle defeat, showing both Ushijima remaining proud and quiet after their loss to Karasuno, only quietly declaring to Hinata and Kageyama that he would “beat” them again --

While with Sakusa, he’s more vocal in his musings about losing, in Chapter 368 stating that it would hurt more to be pitied, especially when you did all you could do, and still suffered a defeat. Itachiyama losing their setter could be viewed as “bad luck” in the final set, but Sakusa points to luck not having so much bearing as just it being the result of fate and unstoppable forces in the moment. Ever the realist, Sakusa...(again, more on “luck” below).

Sakusa objectively presents the fact that they lost in very simplistic, albeit nihilistic terms, and similarly, Ushijima doesn’t shy away from using objective information and putting things in simplistic terms without hyperbole. This can be seen through his conversation with Goshiki below.

Ushijima and Sakusa’s “Type”

So, if we’re going to even possibly ship these characters together...does it work? It becomes clear, through the manga and anime, though that both Ushijima and Sakusa admire players who are powerful, can present a legitimate challenge to them, and therefore spurn them to become stronger players, too.

Both Ushijima and Sakusa are portrayed as incredibly strong right out the gate in the manga, which makes sense as both are in the Top Three Aces for high school volleyball. However, unlike Kiryu (the #2 Ace that is depicted as more down-to-earth, friendly, compassionate, and relatable to our other protagonists), both Sakusa and Ushijima have “colossal protagonist” vibes -- seeming larger than life, incredibly stoic, and emotionally distant to others on their team, even if they are around them constantly.

And then, concerning Sakusa...there’s the infamous Chapter 394.

If anything has established what Sakusa’s “Type” would be, it would be these two panels. Ushijima is checking off all of the boxes for Sakusa: Understands personal hygiene? Check. Someone offering Sakusa a challenge as a competitor, and motivating him to keep moving forward and practicing? Check!

Chapter 394 answers many questions, and points us to the observation of:

Sakusa’s “Pining”

Furudate, we see Sakusa lazer-focused on Ushijima from the other side of the court...you’re not fooling us:

Hey, remember where the mystery of Sakusa and Ushijima’s relationship began? Waaaaay back, after the Shiratorizawa match, after the Fukurodani/Nekoma matches; at the start of the National Japan training camp that Kageyama attended in Chapter 209.

A camp, where it was noted by Karasuno, that Ushijima had been the chosen representative of their prefecture for at least the last year.

And who is the first person Kageyama runs into at this camp?

And the first thing Sakusa states isn’t a proper greeting, it’s not about how they beat Shiratorizawa...it’s how the team “somehow” beat WAKATOSHI-KUN.

The next time we get interactions from Sakusa, he immediately jumps on the offensive, DEMANDING to know who the player was that led to Shiratorizawa’s downfall:

It’s interesting that Kageyama implies the “entire” team was responsible for Ushijima’s defeat on the page before this one below, but of course, Kiyoomi does not pick up on this. Then, leave it to Komori to come in with the save. Again, tying Kiyoomi to being a “realist,” which will come into play below.

So, it isn’t until Chapter 394 that we learn about Sakusa’s long-standing history of playing Ushijima in various matches, developing this competitive rivalry with him that has been going on since middle school. Ushijima is literally the one obstacle that he finds himself unable to surpass; the one piece of the puzzle he can’t put into place yet.

It’s no wonder the fact that someone defeated him irked him so much.

We get a little more context from Komori on Sakusa and Ushijima’s rivalry, and more on the flashback on their Nationals loss which will tie into my last point.

Motoya Komori

I would be remiss not to bring up Motoya Kamori’s role in all this.

I think it’s verrrrrry interesting the route Furudate chose with Komori, specifically in revealing that he’s Kiyoomi’s cousin.

This makes a LOT of sense, considering how closed off and antisocial Sakusa is. It justifies not only why Komori is so keen to stick by Sakusa’s side, despite his seeming apathy towards his presence, but it also justifies why Kiyoomi even sticks with Komori: he really doesn’t have a choice. Komori’s family.

Side Note: Ever get the impression that Komori and Kageyama could be a fun friendship/pairing? I mean, the top setter and top libero? Komori seems genuinely friendly with Kageyama, both at the training camp and when they see each other at Nationals, commenting on Sakusa being out of his element...

...Juuuuust a crack pairing side note! Spread the word! Now, back to the post!

Komori becomes our main expositor about Sakusa in Chapter 394, noting how osbsessive compulsive he is, especially in finishing anything he starts. It’s just an odd choice for me, to make Komori his cousin. True, it goes against the stereotype that all family HAS to look or act like each other, and it does make sense to why their friendship is so strong.

It’s just a move that Furudate hasn’t pulled the entire manga, and it comes right at the end of the series...and it disrupts Furudate’s tactic of giving us characters in “pairs” that, as some reactors have noted, are ripe for instant shipping.

Coincidentally, right as we start to make connections between Sakusa and Ushijima. It’s almost as if Furudate sank the Komori x Sakusa ship with revealing their relationship, just in time to reveal the answer to our mystery of why Sakusa refers to Ushijima in such a familiar way...and let that ship sail. How poetic.

Also, if you wanted to know WHY Komori is so good at being a libero, look at this page below. I mean, if YOU had to practice non-stop with the Top Ace in the nation, receiving his spikes, you can only imagine that you’d be amazing at the sport.

I also like how this page points out how, despite Sakusa also having a physical trait that makes him stand out -- like Ushijima -- in contrast, it seems Sakusa’s “oddity” was instantly accepted among his peers and he didn’t face much resistance to it. Of course, this also could be because Komori notes Sakusa wasn’t close with his “much older” and “much busier” family.

Tendo’s Friendship

And, tying this all together, of course, is Tendo’s involvement.

I love chapter 176 and this part of the anime, where we actually get backstory on Ushijima. I love that Tendo is pretty much his “true” friend in this series, as he actually is one of the few at Shiratorizawa to take the time to ask questions and get to know Ushijima.

Chapter 176 is a big source of material for people shipping Tendo and Ushijima together, and I’ll be honest -- until Sakusa came into the picture, I was right there with you all. Tendo shows genuine concern and sincerity in his conversations with Ushijima off the court, and on the court, he’s practically the ONLY character on Shiratorizawa’s team, and in the whole manga (other than Oikawa) that calls Ushijima out and isn’t afraid to tease him.

Of course, in the end, Tendo is just as impressed and in awe of Ushijima’s raw athletic talent. It’s likely this page that fuels a lot of the ship:

And, even later on, Ushijima borrows Tendo’s words to reveal to the team how much he’s enjoying the match, much to their surprise and Tendo’s delight.

So yes, Chapter 176 I believe started the UshiTen ship, and it does become more compounded in the infamous “Boy Ball Arc” before Spring Nationals, as we learn in Chapter 210 about Tendo and Ushijima’s friendship off the court in more detail; one example being them sharing Shonen Jump magazines...

...and another being that they hang out during the practice matches, with Tendo being pretty much the only one talking to Ushijima in a casual setting.

I’d like to point out that while some see this in Chapter 214 below as a “ship” moment, I did start to question if the two were just friends when Tendo likens Ushijima to a “monster” like Hinata and Kageyama. To me, this banter reveals that Tendo, ironically referred to as a monster himself, doesn’t put himself in the same league or category as Ushijima. This is also reflected in how Tendo notes he’s not pursuing volleyball after high school, but hopes that Ushijima ends up becoming famous and interviews him as his best friend.

And this leads to the final point, which I think cements Tendo’s status as Ushijima’s best friend...but nothing more. Maybe. Perhaps. We’ll see.

We get the reveal in Chapter 395 that during Ushijima’s first few years post-high school, he didn’t constantly keep in contact with Tendo. We know this because Ushijima hasn’t mentioned his trip to the United States to Tendo, which had happened three months prior. So some time has passed there.

Of course, that doesn’t mean Tendo hasn’t kept caught up on Ushijima’s Pro Volleyball career, as that’s his reason for calling Ushijima in the first place.

I like that Tendo offers Ushijima advice and genuinely asks how his family is doing, specifically his father, whom Ushijima went overseas to visit with his father. Even if it has been a while since they’ve talked, you can tell that they are close enough friends that everything seems to pick right back up where it left off for them, which is true for many real-life friendships, and I appreciate Furudate giving us that here, and expanded on more years later, below.

I love this page of Chapter 402. Especially Shiribu’s little crush of Ushijima, as he “shhh”’s Semi.

Not only because it reverses Tendo’s original prophecy that it would be himself interviewed as the famous Ushijima’s friend, but also that it cements their friendship. I mean, Ushijima flew to PARIS for the interview. I know that in itself could be considered shipper fodder, but the fact that they identify as best friends...it just fits them so well. And I could see Tendo talking with Ushijima on late night phone calls to talk him through his dating, or lack thereof, woes.

Also, let it be known these men are the most stylish in Haikyuu!! They should work with Asahi.

Also, also, Tendo’s favorite food is chocolate ice cream. That should have been all the foreshadowing we needed for his future career, right? ^^

Black Jackals vs Adlers

So, that leaves us with the meat of the UshiSaku ship: the Adlers vs Black Jackals match, and the final chapter 402. In Chapter 394, we establish Sakusa’s backstory and the potential pining he’s done for Ushijima the last ten years of his life, starting with this page:

Again, tying back to being “lucky.” I like that despite how Ushijima couldn’t comprehend where Hinata attained all of his athleticism and lamented how half of his plays were just “lucky” and a combined effort of him and his teammates, in the end, Ushijima admits here that he himself is rather “lucky” he won the luck of the draw athletically and was born with a particular trait that made him excel in the game (that being lefthanded). Sakusa, incidentally, falls into the same category, though he doesn’t quite admit it as such.

I like that we see these two actually interacting side-by-side, as equals, a visual I think Furudate designs intentionally. Unlike Tendo, who doesn’t situation himself in the same realm as Ushijima, Sakusa positions himself right in the same sphere, of the “Monster Generation.”

By the end of Chapter 394, Sakusa reflects on his own “luck.” In how he is lucky to have been given life -- reflected with a picture of Komori, his family -- to have met people -- reflected by Ushijima specifically -- and to still be playing volleyball -- reflected by his old high school setter, whom went on to play in the Division 1 league after his own injury. His views of “luck” are all represented in ideally, the people that mean most to him...and Ushijima is one of them.

Sakusa also describes his “Ideal Last Game,” which could be represented by the game being played in that moment. It’s beautiful that someone who is so germaphobic and hyper-obsessive with controlling the atmosphere around him (who he comes in contact with, how he finishes everything he starts), is also so content and at ease on a volleyball court, where nothing is in his control but his own body and the contact he makes with the ball. And it also helps that he’s surrounded by amazing players, like Ushijima, here, to keep him rising to the next challenge --

-- which ends up coming his way in the very next Chapter, as Ushijima (coincidentally right after Sakusa) has his “moment” of reflection and growth put on display. Of course, Sakusa isn’t “finished” with catching up to Ushijima yet, as his cousin snidely reminds him with a laugh, here. I love that we see Ushijima smile, though, at Sakusa’s effort.

Speaking of “Effort,” that ties into later in Chapter 400, when we have Sakusa’s own high school banner for Itachiyama put on display. It’s a simple motto, that goes alongside Shiratorizawa’s in “Be Strong.” I also like here, that in contrast to Chapter 395, when Ushijima was smiling at Sakusa, who couldn’t bump his spike, in Chapter 400, we have Sakusa getting the spin off of Ushijima’s hand, and as he lands, he gives a little smirk to a disgruntled Ushijima.

LITERALLY, these two have only truly smiled during a game at each other. Sure, each have scowled and showed irritation and drive towards facing opponents, but have we seen them “smile” at another in the midst of a game? Not really, unless you count Sakusa getting that service ace before Atsumu Miya in this same game...

Speaking of Atsumu Miya, we’ll talk about him a little bit below. But for now, I like that Sakusa describes that there’s no “room for anything that disgusts me” on the court in a pro volleyball game. Everyone is at their fullest potential and peak physical condition, just like Sakusa, and they all have worked diligently to get to that position.

We don’t get much other UshiSaku crumbs post Chapter 400, although, I would like to point out that Furudate, when drawing the National Japan Olympic Team, placed these two right next to each other. You know...for no reason, I’m sure.

And yes, I would be remiss not to mention this tiny panel -- the last we see of Sakusa or Ushijima or Atsumu Miya, I believe -- as it’s Sakusa that digs up Oikawa’s insane serve. I just LOVE the smile that Ushijima has here as Sakusa digs it. Because unlike Sakusa and Atsumu Miya, Ushijima knows exactly what kind of player Oikawa was in the past, and no doubt knows the kind of plays he could pull off...so I’d imagine he’s proud that his teammate dug up this serve right off the bat.

I know there are a lot of people that ship AtsuSaku, and I won’t deny you that Furudate has laid out crumbs for them as well...but I sort of view Miya with Sakusa the same way I view Tendo with Ushijima at the end of the day: as best friends. I definitely think that there is a hilarious friendship angle with Sakusa and Atsumu Miya -- but I think it’s Ushijima that is the player Sakusa is always going to try and beat and surpass...you could argue, very similar to the dynamic between Hinata and Kageyama in their rivalry...albeit, I think Sakusa’s hints more deliberately at something more...but that’s just my opinion.

In the end, I find it interesting the decisions Furudate makes to show us these characters and specific interactions at the end of the series; specifically, showing Ushijima and Sakusa’s backstories back-to-back, and with all the little glances and panels of them near or looking towards one another. But hey, shippers will see what shippers want to see, right?

I do think that Komori’s panel here in Chapter 394 is pretty telling, though:

Sakusa has identified Ushijima as someone he wants to beat and surpass, and he’s not going to stop until he does. And if there are feelings beyond that...well...he’s not going to stop until “he’s satisfied” with that, either.

At least, according to Chapter 378, Ushijima’s already got his flu shot.

I hope you all enjoyed this little dive into this bizarre pairing in Haikyuu!! I’ve wanted to break this apart for a while, and now that the manga is over, I hope to do more of these types of posts with other pairings. Until next time, we can celebrate the ship that is UshiSaku (and KomoYama/KageMori -- pass it on!) with fan fiction and fan art to our heart’s content! ^^

110 notes · View notes

sirpoley · 4 years

Text

On the Four Table Legs of Traveller, Leg 1: Mortgages

Mongoose Traveller's starship mortgage-payment-system is the most brilliant game mechanic I've ever encountered, as a DM. It's also the first rule I'd ignore if I wasn't consciously trying to play the game exactly how it's described in the book.

A Bit of Background

I've been involved in two Traveller campaigns in the past as a player (both with the same DM), and am currently DMing a third. All of them are using Mongoose's first edition. I've never played any other edition of traveller, and know almost nothing about the history of the game. I don't know which mechanics are unique to this edition of Traveller and which have been around for decades.

In the campaigns in which I was a player, I think the DM was continually frustrated with the rules of the game. He wanted to run a tight, story-focused campaign and picked up Traveller assuming it would be, essentially, D&D in space. For his second campaign, he chopped out huge chunks of the ruleset and replaced it with homebrew ones, removing space travel and Traveller's quirky character creation entirely. This worked for the game he wanted to run (he's an extraordinarily talented DM), but I think we all came away feeling pretty lukewarm about the actual rules.

Bored out of my mind in lockdown, desperate for anything to shake up the daily routine, I picked up the copy of Traveller that had been sitting on my bookshelf, untouched, and skimmed through it. In a mood of "I'll humour this weird rulebook," I followed the random subsector creation chapter to the letter, creating a surprisingly-well fleshed out chunk of space to play around in.

It was then that I realized I'd never actually played Traveller. So I dragged my partner along in an experiment: let's play Traveller, exactly how it is described in the book, no matter how flat-out insane the rules seem to be. I will only consider houseruling or changing a rule once we've both figured out what it's for. I learned a ton in this experiment, so, during my kid's naps (oh, right, I have a daughter now, that's where I disappeared to, Internet), I'll write about what I've learned.

(The Carlia Subsector. Not pictured: along with this map is a LONG word document describing the atmosphere, gravity, population, tech level, cultural quirks, government, etc. of the main world in each of these systems, plus a huge table of the price of dozens of trade goods on each planet. These, it turns out, are crucial game aids. I'll get into them later.)

Traveller, I've learned, is a table held up by four legs: Finances, Character Creation, Patrons, and Random Encounters. If you remove any of these legs, the rest of the game stops working. Following them, as described, gives you a rip-roaring swashbuckling adventure of fighting pirates, escaping bounty hunters, smuggling, jailbreaks, and all that good stuff you want in a campaign—but it happens spontaneously. I'll get into it more in detail, but for now, we're going to talk about finances in Traveller.

Yes, the Game Is About Mortgage Payments

The central driving mechanic of Traveller is making mortgage payments for your starship. The assumption is that the player characters are part-owners of an FTL-capable starship that's more expensive than any one person, or any ten people, could ever afford outright. The game (thankfully) provides a quick way to calculate your starship's mortgage payments (something like the value of the ship/240 per month), and for all of the example ships in the book, gives them to you pre-calculated. In the case of my solo campaign, my partner owed the bank a whopping 500,000 credits a month for her Corsair. For scale, that's the exact same price as the single most powerful gun in the game (the "Fusion Gun, Man Portable"), owed monthly. In D&D terms, she had to raise the equivalent of a +5 Longsword every. Single. Month.

(In addition to mortgage payments are smaller fees: life support (i.e., food and water), crew salaries, fuel, and ship maintenance, but the mortgage is by far the largest single expense, so that's what I'll focus on).

I started my partner out with a fueled up and fully-crewed ship (we used pre-generated NPC stats from the middle of the book for her crew, plus an NPC who was generated during her character creation, which I'll get into later). Character creation started her with 10,000 credits, and I told her she had until the end of the month to multiply that by fifty times.

Debt Leads to Trade

The fastest way by far in Traveller to make money is to interact with the very well fleshed-out trade rules. Each spaceship has a certain amount of tons of cargo it can carry, and each world has a list of trade goods for sale at various prices. So the clear way to raise that 500 grand was to speculatively buy trade goods, pick up passengers and freight, deliver mail, and so on. These rules are generous; by stacking modifiers, it's possible to reliably quadruple your principal every time you reach a new planet (which happens every week).

I think my old DM severely nerfed the trade rules (he also didn't enforce mortgage payments, leaving them on the cutting room floor like D&D's Encumbrance rules) due to this seemingly-unbalanced generosity. Again: the best gun in the game is 500,000 credits—so how on earth can a system that lets you make hundreds, even millions, of credits by trading stand?

Well, it turns out, the bank simply taking 95% of your player's earnings every month severely dampens potentially-snowballing nonlinear growth, so my partner and I never saw the kind of wealth explosion that looks inevitable from the rules as written, despite her scraping together everything she could do maximize profits. In all the time we've been playing, despite having already made millions of credits, she actually hasn't been able to buy a gun better than her starting laser pistol, or, in fact, any armour at all. I'll get to why in a moment, because the most important thing about the trade system is that…

Trade Leads to Travel

Garden worlds sell cheap food. High-population worlds buy food for a high price. High-population worlds sell manufactured goods that are in high-demand on non-industrial worlds, and so on. In a quest to maximize profits, the party was locked into a continual tour of the subsector I generated earlier, constantly moving from place to place. Staying put for any length of time meant letting time trickle away (time that could be spent raking in cash for crippling mortgage payments), so that wasn't an option. What wound up happening was that the party went on a self-guided tour of the subsector, stopping in at colourful worlds I'd generated earlier. This happened entirely without me, as DM, having to dangle bait in front of the party the way that I always have to in D&D. Travel is good, because…

Travel Leads to Conflict

I've already spoken at length on the subject of random encounters here, but Traveller really builds the game around random tables in an elegant way. Every time the party jumps from one world to another, there's a chance they'll get waylaid by pirates (the rulebook has a fun, albeit hidden, 'pirate table' that describes different tricks and hijinks that pirates use to attack). 'Pirates' in Traveller are spaceship owners unable to pay their mortgages by legitimate means, so turn to piracy. The fact that the party is always carrying their life savings in trade commodities whenever they travel around makes them a prime target for piracy, and leads to combat with stakes beyond "fight till everyone's dead." The pirates aren't orcs, and don't want to kill the players for no reason. They want to take their cargo and get away as quickly as possible, suffering the least damage as possible, and the players want the opposite. Thus: pre-combat negotiations, tricks, hijinks (my partner, carrying a cargo of "domestic goods," chose to have her crew throw individual toasters out of the cargo bay each in different directions to ensure that the pirates had to engage in lengthy EVA-missions to catch them each, thus allowing her ship to escape without suffering damage).

Traveller's starship battle rules are fun (and integrate into boarding actions that results in player-scale combat), and are triggered primarily just by moving around. Conflict is fun by itself (that's why combat rules are most of the rules in most games), but in this context, have the added advantage, as…

Conflict Leads to Tradeoffs

It became clear to my partner after her first run-in with pirates that her ship and crew were under-gunned. While buying powerful weapons and armour is trivially cheap compared to the amount of money she was raking in through trade (most weapons cap out at a few thousand credits, and she was moving hundreds of thousands a week), actually getting her hands on some was another matter.

Good weapons in Traveller are advanced ones, which have a high-TL (tech level) rating. These weapons are only available on high-TL worlds (each world has a TL rating generated in subsector generation). Making a detour from trading to buy 'adventuring equipment' wound up being an extremely costly endeavour, taking the party weeks out of the way of the most profitable trade route. The closest world in which these weapons exist also outlaws all weapons (various laws are generated procedurally as well) which means engaging in black market smuggling (which is fleshed out in the rules) and risks run-ins with the law.

Compounding this problem was that her Corsair took minor damage in the combat with the pirates, and the nearest world with a shipyard capable of repairing the ship was different from, and out of the way of, the high tech world with fancy fusion guns. Also, getting the ship repaired meant that it would be in drydock for days or even weeks, which incurs an opportunity cost of almost a million credits that could have been made during trade…

Tradeoffs lead to Debt

In her case, she wound up getting her ship repaired, forgoing arming herself and her crew, and skirting dangerously close to bankruptcy kicking her heels as her ship was patched up. There isn't an easy answer to what she 'ought' to have done, which was fun as hell. Further, as a DM, I wasn't annoyed that she was 'messing up the plot' by staying put (or frustrated that she wasn't going to my elaborately-plotted narrative that would occur when she tried to buy black market weapons) because there was no plot. Everything that came about emerged procedurally.

The 'Loop'

The beating heart of a Traveller sandbox campaign is this loop:

Without DM intervention (or Patrons, which are sort of procedurally-generated adventure hooks), this loop can sustain a campaign pretty much indefinitely. What this means as a DM is that any DM-interventions (i.e., adding in pre-written adventure hooks or encounters or whatever) can be attached to any of these steps to allow it to come about during play. It also means that if you don't have any pre-scripted content (to choose an example completely at random, let's just say your hypothetical one-year-old threw your notes in a toilet) you can just sit back and let the loop above take care of providing entertainment.

To bring this back to mortgages, if your players don't have the threat of having their spaceship repossessed by the bank hanging over them like the Doom of Damocles, then the whole system breaks down, and the DM has to do all the heavy lifting of providing character motivation to go explore new planets.

Next, we'll talk about how Traveller's patron system ties into all of this.

#TravellerRPG #Traveller #FourLegsofTraveller

105 notes · View notes

warrioreowynofrohan · 4 years

Text

Okay, I’ve got some things I feel I need to say about Rhythm of War Chapter 18 and Kaladin. [Spoilers for both the chapter and Sanderson’s commentary on it.]

And it is a thing passing strange to me that the healing hand should also wield the sword. - Warden of the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, The Lord of the Rings

Kaladin working with his father as a healer is something I had been hoping for ever since he was relieved of duty. The conflict between protection and killing has always been a tension within his ideals, as has been the need to let go of those he can’t save, and I think that time as a surgeon with Lirin could help him - and Lirin - find new perspectives on both those things.

I don’t blame Lirin for his stalwart stance against killing - in fact, I find it shows great strength of character. Lirin is Alethi. Idolization of war runs through his entire culture, and yet he is able to reject it. We have to remember that the wars of Alethkar that its common people are immediately familiar with - and recruited for - are pointless civil wars of highprince against highprince, carried out by the lighteyes for glory or territory or political advantage; they are an utterly pointless waste of life. The war on the Shattered Plains was a war of vengeance at the start, and became a war for wealth, again one in which men’s lives - bridgemen and soldiers alike - were pointlessly thrown away. These wars are not admirable. These wars are not beneficial. In fact, the war on the Shattered Plains leads directly to the Desolation by making the Listeners desperate enough to call the Everstorm to avoid extinction! Lirin is absolutely right to reject such wars.

And having had this perspective all his life, and reinforced by all the wars that have occurred within his culture, it’s not that easy to suddenly abandon it when a Desolation hits and fighting might be necessary. Even the Desolation isn’t as straightforward as you would think, as Kaladin finds out devastatingly in Oathbringer: the Singers are regular people with a legitimate grievance, not monsters. The fact that Lirin and Kaladin are among a very small group of Alethi who share that perspective on the Singers has the potential to become a valuable point of understanding between them.

And Lirin and Kaladin do have a ways to go in understanding each other. I will grant that Lirin is being insensitive to his son’s feelings in his failure to notice that Kaladin is unhappy with the idea of returning to surgeon training, however joyful Lirin may feel about it. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean this is the wrong thing for Kaladin at the moment. I am encouraged by Sanderson’s comment, in response to a comment on his chapter annotation, that:

Kaladin views this as somehow giving in...It is supposed to be sad tonally because Kaladin is sad about it. However, this is partially Kaladin not being quite able to see clearly. So I suggest waiting for a bit and seeing what happens next.

I believe this choice will be positive for Kaladin in the short term, even if it is not the role he ends up in permanently. And it will give him and his father a chance to build a stronger relationship with each other and come to understand one another as adults - Kal was just a kid when he was conscripted, so the adult Kaladin is still a bit of a stranger to Lirin.

The thing that Lirin needs to most understand is that being a ‘killer’ wasn’t what enabled his son to become a Knight Radiant. For the earlier days of his time with Bridge 4, Kaladin was trying to prot3c5 them with nothing more than leadership, determination, wits, and - crucially - the healing skills that Lirin taught him. Healing other members of Bridge 4 on the battlefield was what them start to trust and respins to him as bridgeleader. Healing members of other bridge teams what what enabled to to expand his focus beyond just Bridge 4. Right now, Lirin doesn’t understand this - he may not know anything of Kaladin’s time running bridges -and sees Kaladin as having gained his Knight Radiant abilities just from having been a good soldier. I think if they get to the point where Kaladin can confide this, it will help Lirin feel better about Kaladin being a Windrunner and about the real meaning of that. (Of course, Lirin being so judgey isn’t helpful in terms of getting Kaladin to share more of his experiences, so there will have to be some kind of event to prompt that.

Another thing they both need to understand, and which has the ability to draw Kaladin and Lirin closer together, is that the ideals that make Kaladin a Knight Radiant and the same ideas that were taught, instilled, and lived by Lirin when Kaladin was a child. I will protect those who cannot protect themselves. Lirin protects the townsfolk who cannot protect themselves, by healing them and asking no payment, living off donations, and continuing to do so even when turn against him out of resentment and for fear of Roshone. Because he cares about them and feels responsible for them, just as Kaladin does for the people he protects. I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right. Lirin saves Roshone’s life, even though Roshone is trying to destroy Lirin’s life, even thoygh he knows Roshone will hate him all the more for being unable to save Roshone’s son, even though Roshone’s hunt got two darkeyes pointlessly killed, even thpugh he could do it without anyone being able to prove anything. That’s a decision that Kaladin rejects at the time, thinking “some people - like a fractured finger or a leg shattered beyond repair - just needed to be removed”, almost exactly the same thing he thinks in WOR just before he chooses to allow Elhokar’s assassination; the moment he swears the Third Ideal is the moment he makes the same decision his father made with Roshone.

Kaladin being a Windrunner isn’t rejection of his father’s ideals and teachings; it is the direct product of his father’s ideals and teachings. And I hope that working together as surgeons will give them both the chance to realize that.

#brandon sanderson #the stormlight archive #rhythm of war #row spoilers #kaladin #lirin

26 notes · View notes

peanutbutterjelly-pie · 4 years

Text

Guardian Angel

Summary: It'll only be minutes until Dean's time on earth's gonna run out. Until the hellhound will walk around the corner and drag him with it into the pit of pain and despair. Until the demons and monsters will claim his soul.

But just as he is about to face his end all of a sudden something unexpected happens and Dean starts to wonder if he's seriously worth to be saved after all.

Word Count: 1676

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst, First Meeting, 3x16 divergent

[Written for the @writersofdestiel‘s “The Day They First Met” Prompt Week]

It's merely minutes now.

They had hope, just a little bit, but now Lilith is out of reach and Dean hears the hellhound coming closer and closer. The air in his chest tightens, making breathing impossibly hard as he stares at the doorway.

He knows the creature will show up there any second now.

To take him to hell.

Mercilessly.

Dean never regretted saving Sam's life. He just can't, no matter what. But as he's facing his end now he's unable to feel a lot of things, emotions overpowering him with such strength his knees start to buckle.

He doesn't want to die. There are so many things he actually intended to do. Awesome, amazing, wonderful things he always thought he had enough time to experience at some point.

Fuck, he's never even been in love before. Not really, at least.

And now he will never know what that feels like.

Dean glances to the side, for the last time looking at the person most important to him. Sam is breathing hard as he stares at his brother with despair, tears welling up in his eyes. It's clear that he tries to control himself, not to sob and break down here and now. But it seems he has finally accepted that there is no way out of this.

Dean would die tonight. In a few minutes.

And they could do jackshit now to stop it.

Dean opens his mouth, determined to leave Sam with some last reassuring words, but in the end no sound leaves his throat. He's incapable of forming any coherent sentence at this point, he's sure of that. Besides, there is absolutely nothing in the vast vocabulary that would ease Sam's mind in any way right now.

Dean knows because he would totally feel the same if their roles were reversed.

So Dean settles on just looking at his tall little brother and shooting him one last smirk.

It's all he can do at this point.

Since just a moment later the hellhound walks around the corner.

It's an ugly thing. Broad and big and hairy and its eyes and fangs are enormous. Not to mention the claws. Sharp enough to rip even the strongest man apart in a matter of milliseconds.

The worst, however, is the smell. Ash and fire and decay.

Dean imagines that is what hell smells like.

He will find out for himself soon enough.

Dean takes a deep breath and braces himself. This won't be pretty and a big part of himself wishes Sam wouldn't be here to witness this. But another, small, selfish side of him finds itself relieved to have his brother by his side.

One last time.

Dean looks at the creature, looks it straight in the eyes, and yells Come on now! in his mind.

The hellhound prepares itself to attack. Bloodthirstiness shining in its gaze.

Thirst for Dean's blood.

And then, all of a sudden –

A shadow shows up right behind the creature. Dean blinks in surprise and just has enough time to notice a flapping coat before the hellhound starts to whine out of the blue.

It whines and screams and squirms and Dean takes a moment to notice the silver blade that's been rammed right into its neck. By the shadow in the dark.

Sam next to him gasps in surprise and bewilderment (and Dean is right with him on that front) and they both watch in shock as the hellhound collapses right there on the spot.

Motionless.

Dead.

Dean blinks.

What?

The?

Fuck?

For a long moment the room remains eerily quiet, nobody really sure what to do now. Dean at least has no freaking idea what is happening now.

He simply gaoes at the shadow who steps out of the darkness and reveals himself to be a man in a bulky trench coat. A man who looks absolutely normal. Close to harmless, actually. Tousled hair, a light scruff, ridiculously blue eyes.

He seems utterly wrong in this place.

And at the same time there is something about him. Something that takes Dean's breath away in a completely different way than the hellhound before him.

The man steps forward, appearing absolutely calm as he pulls his strange silver knife out of the dead creature. He seems like this is a totally ordinary day. As though he always runs around and kills some hellhounds before dinner time.

There are a thousand questions running through Dean's mind at this very moment. And in the end he grasps for one.

“Who are you?”

It's at least a legitimate question, right?

The man looks up, his gaze connecting with Dean's. And the hunter feels a shiver running down his spine as he has never experienced before. He's even on the verge of whimpering and thankfully just has enough self-control to suppress that urge right on time.

“My name is Castiel,” the man introduces himself.

His voice is impossibly deep and Dean has no clue what to do with this.

How are you supposed to handle such a situation?

Something like this certainly has never been part of Dad's training.

Dean stares at the man, keeps on staring and staring, and at one point realizes that this guy just can't be human. Maybe it's a residue from his year running out or perhaps it's just hunter instinct.

But he simply knows.

“What are you?” Dean clarifies his question in the end.

The man – Castiel – stays unperturbed as he responds, “I'm an angel of the Lord.”

Dean can't help a loud and very unattractive snort.

Yeah, right.

“Sure thing, buddy,” he mocks. “Now for real – what are you?”

Castiel's face doesn't display any emotions as suddenly the few lights in the room begin to flicker and a shadow of two huge wings shows up right behind him.

It's only for the blink of an eye, but it's more than enough to shake Dean to his very core.

DAMN.

Sam next to him doesn't seem far better off. His eyes as big as saucers, his skin going absolutely pale. Dean, at least, finds himself worried that he might pass out in the next moment and decides to focus on that for now because anything else is too much.

Way too much.

“You were meant to go to hell tonight, Dean Winchester,” the creature – the angel?? – tells him in a serious tone. “And it was foretold that this event would lead to the apocalypse.”

Dean's jaw goes slack.

Wait, what?

“Huh?” he says, dumbfounded.

“This has been in the making for centuries. Millennia. Since the dawn of time itself.” Castiel's gaze gets even more intense and Dean suddenly feels stripped naked faced with such scrutiny. “Hell and heaven, preparing for the final battle.”

Dean wonders if he's dreaming.

If this is just the strangest, most wacko dream he's had for quite a while.

Because this can't be true!

Right?

“But I and a small fraction of angels – we see things a bit differently than the rest.” Castiel's lips twitches. As though he's fighting an actual smile. “We believe it doesn't have to be this way. Humanity is our Father's greatest creation. We don't want to see them die in an ocean of fire.”

Dean shivers and feels the strength of his legs leaving him. It's just with monumental effort that he's able to remain upright for the time being.

“I … uh …” What do you reply to something like this?

Dean doesn't have the foggiest.

Castiel, meanwhile, walks up to him, suddenly so close they're almost chest to chest.

“Humanity deserves to be saved,” he states in that gravelly voice. “But above all, you deserve to be saved, Dean Winchester.”

He studies Dean like he's the most important thing in the world. Like he would fight all of heaven and hell in a heartbeat just to see the hunter safe and sound.

Dean swallows, licks his lips and feels his cheeks heat up as Castiel's gaze follows the movement of his tongue with a bone-chilling intensity.

Dean can't remember the last time someone looked at him like that.

He isn't actually sure if someone ever looked at him like that.

“You … you're kidding, right?” Dean scoffs and tries to come across as unimpressed as possible while he chides himself over and over to finally get his moves on and take a few steps back. Put some distance between them. Personal space and all that crap.

He remains unsuccessful.

Because his body refuses to be apart from Castiel, it seems.

“I assure you, I am not 'kidding' you,” Castiel says, phrasing that one word like it's a weird alien language he never heard before. “I am here to save your soul from damnation. You're a good and kind man and you don't deserve what has been put upon your shoulders.”

Dean blinks.

He wants to laugh. Right into the guy's face.

But Castiel sounds absolutely sincere, as if he means every single word, and Dean feels the mocking laughter get stuck in his throat.

Damn.

“You might not believe me,” Castiel continues. “But soon enough you will have no other choice. Neither hell nor heaven are going to be thrilled about this act of rebellion and we have to brace ourselves for the inevitable repercussions.” He tilts his head (which is not adorable!). “But don't worry, we are prepared. We won't allow anyone to harm you.” His eyes glint supernaturally. “I won't allow anyone to harm you.”

Jesus.

Dean throws another glance at Sam. Who still looks like the verge of crying.

And Dean hates to admit it, but he can actually relate.

He thought he would be in hell by now. Probably already ripped apart and then put back together to do it all over again for the hundredth time.

To stand here, alive, at Sam's side, with a freaking angel so obviously eager to protect him – this is just wild!

And so he decides there and then: yep, this must be a dream!

Because gorgeous, intense men eager to save his soul? Yeah, this can't be real!

Right?

#destiel #fanfic #fic #drabble #angst #canon divergence #3x16 coda #happy anniversary 🎉#fanfiction: mine

30 notes · View notes

isabilightwood · 4 years

Text

The Problem with Authority - Chapter 1

CQL!Verse, Wangxian and Yanqing, canon divergence with Qin Su sacrifice summoning JYL after Jin Rusong’s death. JYL teams up with NHS to fix things, starting with bringing back WWX. Wen Qing is alive because I said so, and LWJ gets in the way of plotting because he’s a romantic.

See my self reblog for the AO3 link/additional tags and warnings

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

The problem with authority is that if you leave it lying around, others will take it. — Yoon Ha Lee, Ninefox Gambit

Qin Su was tired of the constant hovering.

Every time she set foot outside her own rooms, she was beset by disciples and the wives of subordinates, telling her over and over how very sorry they were.

It was all bullshit.

Fake, social climbing schemers, who were more concerned with the fact that Jin Guangshan’s legitimate grandson was once again the sect heir, than sorry for the death of her son. Her A-Song.

They expected her to sob constantly, to wail and tear her hair from her scalp. That they could comfort Qin Su by repeating the same trite, cloying words day-by-day. Earn a little status out of tragedy. If Qin Su had to listen to one more apology, she was going to be sick all other the offending madam’s embroidery hoop.

It was true that she still couldn’t go a day without crumbling into tears. But mostly, she was numb. Exhausted, in more ways than one. She wanted to go to sleep, and wake with her son tucked safely into bed, or not wake up at all.

The private treasury was the only place where she could be certain she would not be disturbed. Even in her own bedroom, it would only be so long before a maid was sent to find her. Only she and her husband could open the hidden entrance to the vault. Only in the treasury, could she be alone, to find something to distract herself, however briefly, from the avalanche of her grief.

There were still many items that had been claimed by her deceased father-in-law after the war that had not been cataloged. Priceless relics and weapons and irreplaceable texts alike sat neglected in trunks. Jin Guangshan had cared only for possession, occasionally touting one item or another out to show off. Ten months after A-Yao’s succession, shelves continued to sit empty. Neither she nor A-Yao had found the time, busy keeping everything running smoothly, as he made bids for projects he called progress with the gleam in his eyes that had first made her chase after him. Back when he seemed flattered by her attention, interested in her as more than a friend or colleague.

Qin Su herself managed the internal minutiae of the Sect and oversaw disciple training. The latter would traditionally fall to the Head Disciple, but they had lost one after another. The woman who had been intended to aid Jin Zixuan had resigned over some disagreement before his death. Her replacement, a second or third cousin to the main Jin Clan, married out to the leader of the Fengyang Hua Sect, a growing sect that bordered Gusu and Lanling. Their replacement died at Nightless City, along with the next dozen or so disciples in line. And so Qin Su was free to manage the training as she wished.

Or had been, until she was asked to take a step back from training, for fear her grief would destabilize her qi. It was true that she had been unable to focus. However, stewing in the unending reminders that she would never hold A-Song in her arms again was no help. Attending to her duties as a hostess only made it worse.

Sorting the looted relics was mindless work, that required none of the focus she had lacked for the forty-one days since A-Song’s death. But it was something to occupy her hands, and some small part of her thoughts.

She began with the books that day, sorting into titles that were common and could be sold, those that needed to be repaired, and those to dangerous to be held anywhere but the treasury. Qin Su moved to start a new pile, for useful, rare texts that should be copied, on a table, and a disorganized pile of notes and notebooks caught her eye.

It was the disorganization that stood out. A-Yao never left anything out like that. He must have been called away, but if he returned and saw it, that would trigger his own flood of tears. Qin Su had heard him sobbing, late into the night, from the next room over. But each morning, he greeted his work with his habitual dedication, no matter how puffy his eyes, or how little he’d slept. A-Yao would never forgive himself if his work was delayed by his composure crumbling over a small thing out of place.

She picked up the papers, intending only to organize them into an even stack, and place them evenly between the notebooks. But their subject caught her attention.

A circular array was drawn on each paper. Identical, to her unpracticed eyes, with varied notes printed in precise calligraphy in different locations on each page.

Qin Su had always focused on the sword, leaving talismans to those with innovative minds yet weaker cores, like her husband. Yet this array made her look twice.

Sacrifice Summon was written at the top of the first page, the one with the least writing. The soul of the caster is permanently exchanged for that of a chosen spirit or ghost, fully resurrecting the deceased. It was a complex design, meant to drawn in the blood of the caster.

Voices, from the other side of the portal. A-Yao must have wanted to show an item from the vault to a guest. Her heartbeat sped up, her hands shaking as she dropped the papers back onto the table.

The last thing Qin Su wanted was to have to greet her husband’s guests, while he smiled his disappointment in her for shirking her duties.

She raised the tablecloth and ducked beneath, knocking one of the papers off the table as she did so. Catching it, she pulled it to her chest, dropping the cloth back into place just in time. It was dark in the small space, and stuffy. Her heart hammered hard enough Qin Su felt certain it must be audible throughout the room. But her presence was not discovered, and so Qin Su did not have to answer as to why Jin-furen was hiding from her own husband.

“The remainder of the He Clan has been dealt with.” Su Minshan reported. His voice was easily identifiable from the obsequiousness with which he always treated her husband. She’d asked A-Yao what he saw in him once, and he’d flashed his dimples at her and said, unfaltering loyalty is a trait I cannot afford to lose. So Qin Su tolerated Su Minshan, though he made her skin crawl. And made certain never to be caught alone with him. “Xue Yang tracked them down to the last man.”

Why he kept Xue Yang around, on the other hand, was a mystery.

“Good, that’s good,” A-Yao said. Never shy of heaping praise on his subordinates, he would be smiling up at the other man. “Tell me, what did Xue Yang bring back with him?”

“A few urchins, from town. He said they were his payment for leaving the bodies alone.” Su Minshan scoffed, disgusted.

It didn’t sound like Xue Yang had brought the children to become disciples.

There was the slap of a forehead hitting a palm. A-Yao’s voice was slightly muffled as he gave an exasperated sigh. “I told him he could experiment with animals or dead bodies or not at all. Especially not children.” There was the slightest break in his voice at the word children. “Xue Yang has outlived his usefulness. Have him disposed of and left somewhere remote.”

The command was delivered coldly, casually. He sounded nothing like the warm, if more distant than Qin Su had initially expected, husband she knew.

“Yes, Zongzhu.” A pair of disciples said, their footsteps receding as they took their leave.

“Your research is not completed, is it?” Su Minshan asked, once they were gone.

“I have better means now. My dear younger brother is eager to please, and will not dismember the test animals for kicks and giggles.” A-Yao spoke as though this was an ongoing discussion, yet Qin Su, his wife, had never heard a whisper of research on animals before that day. Only of field testing of the Yiling Patriarch’s inventions. “Or decide to run tests on townspeople and dismember them, too.”

Just what had her husband been allowing Xue Yang to do? It seemed impossible that flighty little Mo Xuanyu could achieve it, whatever it was.

“Another headache eliminated, then.” Su Minshan said. “That’s nearly all the most dangerous ones out of the way.”

There was a weighted pause before A-Yao replied, incongruously. “I did love my son, you know.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise.” Su Minshan rushed to assure him. “I am deeply sorry this step was necessary.”

Step? What was he implying about A-Song?

“If only that woman had told you the truth earlier.” Su Minshan snarled. “Keeping it a secret while her daughter courted her own half-brother? What a selfish bitch.”

What? Qin Su clapped her hands over her mouth, stifling a choked gasp.

“Now, Minshan, please. You remember what my father was like. We were all of us his victims. A-Su, me, and both of our mothers.” For the first time, Qin Su understood what Lianfang-zun’s detractors meant when they said he dripped insincerity. “Ultimately, A-Song’s death can be placed at his feet.”

But A-Song was murdered after Jin Guangshan died, she thought stupidly. Utterly frozen in place, the short, harsh pants of her breath the only sign she had not just been dropped into hell. The two men spoke for a few more minutes, but Qin Su didn’t hear a word.

It was some time after they left that Qin Su moved, her stiff joints causing her to fall onto her side on the edge of the tablecloth.

How was she ever supposed to face the court, knowing what she did now? Look her half-brother in the face without screaming?

The honorable thing would be to expose him, and to then take her own life to restore her own honor.

She couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to her father, to her older siblings. Half-siblings, now, she supposed, with a crazed giggle. The only real siblings, the only real father Qin Su would ever have. It would be better if they never knew what had happened to their mother. To her.

But she couldn’t carry on as she had, either.

The forgotten paper crinkled in her hands. The Sacrifice Summon. Exchanging her life for another’s.

Was that the solution she was searching for? Could she?

Qin Su remembered her husband’s - her brother’s voice saying especially not children. Only breaths before declaring his own son’s death necessary.

Her A-Song was lost forever.

There was, however, another child under Lianfang-zun’s care. Another mother whose son was not lost, but who had nevertheless lost the chance to see him grow. If Qin Su exchanged her life for that woman’s, perhaps her soul would pass on quickly enough to find A-Song in another life.

Jiang Yanli would see Jin Ling grow up safely, ensure Lianfang-zun did not keep the power he had married his own sister and murdered his own son to secure.

That would be best for everyone.

Qin Su shakily extracted herself from beneath the table, returning to the one room she could be certain Lianfang-zun would never enter.

Now she knew why.

Locking the door to her room, Qin Su emptied what little was in her stomach into the chamber pot. When she was through, she began to draw the array.

The first thing Jiang Yanli noticed was the silence. She had been on the battlefield at Nightless City, pushed A-Xian aside, and a sword went through her heart —

She had been dead. She was certain.

Oh, A-Xian. What did you do?

Slowly, Jiang Yanli sat up. She was sprawled on the floor of a well-appointed lady’s bedroom. In Koi Tower, by the color scheme, but its occupant had uncommon taste. Rather than gilded everything, there were accents of gold on the drapery and to emphasize ink paintings of the ocean and a palace she did not recognize.

There was also the matter of the array of blood that surrounded her. Demonic cultivation, which only supported her certainty that A-Xian was involved. But where was he? And if she was in Koi Tower, where was her son?

Yunmeng, something inside her whispered. Though she could not explain why, she knew it was true.

Checking herself for cuts, she found a gash across the palm of her hand. But it was already sealing, far faster than Jiang Yanli had healed from so much as a paper cut before her death.

She wasn’t an expert in raising the dead like her brother, but Jiang Yanli was fairly certain fierce corpses did not work that way. At the very least, she should have been bleeding black. Yet her blood was as red as ever.

Getting to her feet, she started to inspect the room for clues. On the way to the desk, she passed a mirror. Her gaze skipped past a mirror. And snapped back.

It was not Jiang Yanli’s face that looked back.

This woman’s face was rounder and softer than her own. Pretty, with a natural pink in her cheeks where Jiang Yanli’s had always had to be painted on, due to the frequency with which she lost her breath and grew dizzy. There, too, was a hint of the agelessness that came with a fully developed golden core. With a feeling of foreboding, Jiang Yanli felt along her meridians until she reached her core. No longer a weak, underdeveloped thing due to her inability to practice the heavily physical Jiang techniques, it shone bright and strong.

That was a point against this being A-Xian’s doing. He wouldn’t have stolen her a body, when he could simply bring back her own.

Why am I alive? Asked a voice in her head.

That would have been a reasonable question. Only it wasn’t Jiang Yanli thinking it.

Maybe resurrection came with the ability to understand spirits. The results were entirely untested, so it was possible. Yet the voice seemed certain it was alive. If her current state was due to demonic cultivation, she might as well do what A-Xian would: experiment.

“I could ask you the same question.” Jiang Yanli told the voice.

Jiang Yanli? It worked! But why am I in your head?

“Are you the one who brought me back?” She tilted her head back, trying to place the way the voice made her head feel. Almost like the moment at the start of meditation when she began to forget her body to focus on her spirit, but with a disconnect keeping her grounded.

Yes. And then, I can hear your thoughts, the voice said, you don’t need to speak out loud.

That was disconcerting. Is this your body? She thought at the voice.

Yes. The voice said. Stop calling me that. I’m Qin Su.

Strangely, it was a relief to have a name. It made Qin Su feel more real than anything else in this surreal afterlife. So it would be more accurate to say I’m in your head. Am I possessing you?

It was supposed to be an exchange. My soul for yours.

Well clearly, it hadn’t worked that way.

Responding to her unformed question, the woman continued. The array is on the desk.

This… It was obviously A-Xian’s work, copied out by a more careful hand. But it looked incomplete, a half-developed first draft or his scattered notes on an older text that he could always piece back together perfectly, but left out crucial details for anyone else. Utterly unlike the labeled, if nearly illegible, minutiae on his complete work. Jiang Yanli would never have cast an array with so little information. Especially not one of A-Xian’s.

I didn’t know the Yiling Patriarch. And I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.

No, she supposed not. Anyone casting this array would have to be desperate.

Everything fell apart and I just… used what I had on hand. There was the impression of a shrug, like her mind contorting itself into a new shape. My impulse decisions always have terrible consequences. That’s how I ended up pregnant and marrying the last person in the world I should have. Qin Su gave a short, harsh burst of hysterical laughter, startling Jiang Yanli into making the same noise aloud.

Telling whoever this abusive asshole was that her husband had died only a week ago, and she was certainly not performing any marital duties could wait until she figured out what Qin Su had done.

There are other pages with more notes in the treasury.

Jiang Yanli sprang to her feet. I’ll need to see them immediately.

She slid open the doors, and came face to face with a maid carrying cleaning supplies. Jiang Yanli quickly shut the doors behind her, so the maid could not catch a glimpse of the blood still staining the floor.

“Oh! Jin-furen.” The maid bowed deeply. “This one apologizes for assuming you would be out.”

It was something of a shock to be addressed by a title that had, from her perspective, belonged to her mother-in-law only yesterday. Jin-furen?

Ah, yes. I’ve been Jin-furen since Jin Guangshan… passed… ten months ago. The word “passed” came with a flash of embarrassment, telling Jiang Yanli enough for her to extrapolate the cause of death.

Jin Guangyao must be Jin-zongzhu then. Strange, he hadn’t seemed the abusive type.

Not abuse. Worse. Qin Su gagged in her mind, making Jiang Yanli do the same.

“Are you all right, Jin-furen?” The maid asked, hovering closer.

At least the gagging gave her an excuse not to allow anyone inside. “I’ll be fine. But please wait to clean until tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. Would you have some soup sent on a tray for my dinner?”

“Of course, Jin-furen.” The maid backed away, bowed, and hurried off.

Jiang Yanli turned to inspect the door, placing her hands on her hips. With Qin Su’s Golden Core, she could likely cast a locking spell. If she knew how, that was. She had always relied on A-Xian’s talismans, many of which he developed specifically for her. Unfortunately, she had none on hand.

That’s easy. Qin Su said. Draw the characters for lock, then modify it with…

It took Jiang Yanli a few tries to draw properly on her new core, but she was able to lock the door against casual entry. No cultivator with a sword would be kept out for long, but they would have to be willing to trespass in Jin-furen’s bedchamber.

The thin flush of victory faded the second she stepped through the treasury portal. Suibian lay on a shelf, visible from the door. A-Xian had not carried his sword for a long time. But he would never have handed it over to the Jin Clan, unless it was directly into Jiang Yanli’s arms. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Qin Su. Why is my A-Xian’s sword in the treasury? Jiang Yanli demanded. The answering silence was deafening. “Qin Su! Tell me why!”

He… died. At Nightless City. Not long after you did. Qin Su’s voice was hesitant, as though confused why she cared.

“No!” She let out a choked sob, clasping a hand over her mouth. A-Xian wasn’t — he couldn’t be —

Didn’t he kill you? I was told —

“No! Never!” A-Xian would never have hurt her. I tried to save him.

Silence, for a moment, other than Jiang Yanli’s own ragged breaths. Then, I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot of things I believed were lies today. Perhaps what they said about him was too.

They were. A-Xian was bright, and good, and cared too much. He had never been what they thought. Jiang Yanli had not needed to ask to know A-Xuan’s death was a horrible mistake, likely the result of stepping in between his cruel, vindictive cousin and her brother at the wrong moment. If he had meant to kill Jin Zixun, A-Xian had had good reason.

I think anyone who had the misfortune of meeting Jin Zixun considered killing him. Qin Su said wryly.

Jiang Yanli had had those thoughts. She gave a watery giggle that was answered in her head. It was sweet of Qin Su to try to comfort her when she could feel that she was still reeling for her own reasons. The least Jiang Yanli could do in return was get her some answers.

On the table.

She found the stack of diagrams easily, along with a tattered notebook that appeared to contain A-Xian’s original work. Jiang Yanli flipped through that, knowing that unless had both gotten a hold of one of the few people that could read his note-taking scrawl — her, Lan Wangji, and perhaps Wen Qing, who had taken their turns as A-Xian’s sounding board in succession — and convinced them to help details would likely have been missed.

You can read that? Qin Su was incredulous.

Years of practice, she replied. Before Lan Wangji, Jiang Yanli had been the only person who took A-Xian’s inventions seriously, the only person willing to sit and listen while he bounced from idea to idea, eventually solving the problem himself.

The average person would not think it necessary to puzzle out the text under a sketch of Lan Wangji holding a child, assuming it was a caption. When it was, in fact, an absolutely crucial detail. A detail that had made A-Xian conclude the Sacrifice Summon Array should never be used.

There were perhaps a dozen variations on the array. Most worked in a similar way to what Qin Su had intended, summoning a spirit to take the caster’s place. The earliest could not target a specific soul, but A-Xian had worked that out. Luckily, Qin Su had used one of those arrays, allowing Jiang Yanli to be summoned, rather than causing the closest vengeful spirits to battle for her body. The very last caused the caster’s body to be torn apart, and replaced with a copy of the spirit’s own.

But every version had two things in common: a call for revenge, and the destruction of the caster’s soul.

In her mind, Qin Su went perfectly still.

Jiang Yanli had a theory as to why Qin Su’s soul had not been consumed by the array. It had started the job, pulling Jiang Yanli in, but Qin Su had not asked for revenge, and so the array spat most of her back out. What the consequences were, for either of their spirits, she could not begin to guess.

There was a distinctive air of panic to Qin Su’s continued silence.

Qin Su, Jiang Yanli prodded, if this had worked the way it’s written, your soul would have been consumed by it. What could have been worth this?

I didn’t know about that. I didn’t want that.

It didn’t happen. You’re still here. She attempted to reassure Qin Su, wishing there was a way to mentally pat someone on the head. That had always helped calm both her brothers.

I’m still here. Whatever the fuck that means. Qin Su giggled nervously. That wasn’t very ladylike.

I think it’s forgivable, under the circumstances. Jiang Yanli raised a sleeve to cover her smile.

You don’t know the half of it. Qin Su sighed. I didn’t think things like this happened, outside of stories.

Jiang Yanli waited for her to go on, gritting her teeth in response to a wave of bitterness.

Only a few hours ago, I found out my so-called husband is my half-brother and he murdered our son. And now here we are.

Oh. Jiang Yanli could not so much as think of a reassuring response. What the fuck is correct.

“A-Su,” Jin Guangyao said from behind her, before Qin Su could say anything more. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic

13 notes · View notes