#has something ended or begun?

[demigods-posts]

Reasons why The Last Day of Summer from The Lightning Thief musical is an amazing song:

1.) “What do you do when it’s up to you to choose: has something ended or begun?”  It’s the end of the book, the musical, but Percy has to decide if this is the end of his story. This line does an amazing job at explaining Percy’s dilemma.

2.) “Do I stay because it’s safer? Back to the home I left behind. I could stay and train for a peace of the action, but what about peace of mind?” In Good Kid, Percy complains that no has ever asked him if he’d like to come around and stay, but in The Last Day of Summer, the camp directors are asking him exactly that - and he doesn’t have answer. Being a year-round camper allows Percy to strengthen his skillset as a demigod so he can better prepare for a world of monsters, but it requires him to sacrifice the chance to lead a somewhat normal life. I find it admirable that even though he has begun to embrace his godly side, he still has a grasp on his humanity. 

3.) “Perry Johannsson, this means you.” I love this gag that Mr. D deliberately choose to say Percy’s name wrong the entire musical, and also the entire five book series. 

4.) “Sometimes, family is worth the trouble. Believe me.” “I guess we both have a choice to make, Seaweed Brain.” I love the contrast between that moment in Killer Quest when Annabeth calls Percy Seaweed Brain in an attempt to insult him versus in The Last Day of Summer when it becomes almost a mockery of their initial rivalry. Here, Annabeth acknowledges their rocky start, but chooses to not let it define the future of their friendship, and I love that for them. Additionally, Annabeth lets her guard down and briefly confides in Percy, which goes to show that she has begun to trust him and, more so, heed his advice. Their friendship is portrayed so beautifully. 

5.) “Tough last day?” I’m really enjoy all of these callbacks we are getting in this song. When Luke ask Percy ‘Tough first day?’ in Their Sign, Luke has yet to decide if Percy will be a threat to his plan to overthrow the gods. Here, Luke knows Percy is a threat and intends on eliminating him.

6.) “You’re the lightning thief.” “The oracle warned you. ‘Betrayed by a friend.’” Percy saying the title of the show, and Luke quoting the line referring to his betrayal >>>>

7.) “I’ll do anything. I don’t care if I hurt anyone. It doesn’t pay to be a good kid, a good kid, a good son.” This line right here forces the listener to empathize with Luke. While we may not agree with the decision he makes, we understand why he makes them: because he was once was where Percy is. 

8.) “Soon, you’ll see what I did.” Throughout the PJO series, we see Percy have resentment toward Luke for good reasons, but when Percy denies the gods offer in 'The Last Olympian', he, in a round-about way, defends Luke. Even as Percy grows older, he understands Luke’s stance toward the gods and the shitty system they created of sending their kids off to do their bidding. Luke was right. In time, Percy would soon see what he did and why he did it.

The Last Day of Summer is such a beautiful song. The callback to previous songs in the musical, Annabeth and Percy becoming good friends, Luke’s reprise of Good Kid, the foreshadowing that Percy will grow up to understand why Luke is doing what he’s doing. Just, everything about it is so amazing!

[bumblingbabooshka]

People honestly portray Tuvok as far too "rolling his eyes, reluctantly going along with Janeway's silly little shenanigans" - he's literally so serious about being right there with her on every decision she makes. Janeway's like "I'm going to stay behind if the ship blows up" and Tuvok's like "I'm staying with you." Janeway's like "I'm going to deliver every member of the Equinox crew into the jaws of death via an alien revenge massacre" and Tuvok protests a grand total of one time before being fully on the bridge assisting her. He was the only one with her when she made the decision to honor the caretaker's wishes and save the Ocampa, dooming them all. He was willing to get court marshalled in order to fulfill a wish she couldn't grant by her own hand: Get them home [no matter what happens to me] <- wherein 'me' is Tuvok. This was the same wish that spurred him forward when he had to leave her on that planet and everyone left thought him cold for trying to fulfill it without her when in his mind it was akin to a dying wish, the last thing she'd ever express to him: Get them home [no matter what happens to me.] <- wherein 'me' is Janeway. He told Seven that the golden rule to follow is that the captain is "ALWAYS RIGHT" <- (His ACTUAL words) and when Seven asks if the captain should be followed even if someone KNOWS she's wrong he says "Perhaps." This man is perhaps the most ride or die dude in the universe about Janeway. Despite her labeling him her 'moral compass' he is by NO means impartial or unbiased. He'd defend her to his last breath. He canonically makes detailed psychological observations about her and has for years. He accounts for her luck when calculating the success of certain plans. It's implied in 'Twisted' that Janeway typically listens to Tuvok's suggestions and follows them nearly without fail - to the point that he's surprised and obviously irritated when Chakotay doesn't. Despite this they've been inside one another's quarters so infrequently that Tuvok can remember each instance. They call each other "Captain" and "Mr. Tuvok" even though they've known each other for twenty years. There's something wrong with them.

[ryutarotakedown]

Word count: 2467 Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Gen Relationships: Susato Mikotoba/Haori Murasame, Susato Mikotoba & Kazuma Asougi Characters: Susato Mikotoba, Haori Murasame, Kazuma Asougi, Yuujin Mikotoba Additional tags: Missing Scene, Foreshadowing, An Ungodly Amount of Dramatic Irony, Canon Compliant, (i think), POV Susato Mikotoba, Character Study

Summary:

Hold it! Susato’s hand flies up to her mouth as the gears in her brain finally start to spin. It’s the day — the day they’re about to set out to Great Britain — and she isn’t even done packing yet! “I’ll be right there!” she shouts to her sort-of-brother and her best friend, before dashing towards her own luggage.

Or: In which Susato Mikotoba sets out on her journey to London, featuring complicated siblings, the slow onset of a blossoming crush, and the beginning of a story that will definitely go well for all involved.

Read on AO3 or below!

“Suuuuu!”

Haori’s vocal chords are truly impressive — her voice manages to reach Susato even from two floors below. Susato peers out the window and is greeted with the sight of Haori waving at her from the courtyard.

Susato grins and waves back, then squints. Rubs the sleep out of her eyes. Is that Kazuma next to her?

Yes, it is — he lifts a hand in greeting, mouth ticking up in obvious amusement at Haori’s enthusiasm. In his other hand are several bags, and on the ground is a very large trunk. Susato’s clearly not awake enough for this, because she could swear that trunk just moved…

Hold it! Susato’s hand flies up to her mouth as the gears in her brain finally start to spin. It’s the day — the day they’re about to set out to Great Britain — and she isn’t even done packing yet!

“I’ll be right there!” she shouts to her sort-of-brother and her best friend, before dashing towards her own luggage.

A few minutes later she’s dragging her two bags down the stairs (one for books, one for everything else) and into the sunny courtyard. Haori rushes to take a bag for her, then nearly doubles over from the weight. “Rookie mistake,” Kazuma murmurs, and Susato can’t help but laugh even as she eases the luggage out of Haori’s grip.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she says to Haori, who is still massaging her arm with amazement written all over her face.

“What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t see you off?” Haori smiles at her while Susato tries to hide a wince. She’s only met Naruhodou-sama once, but Kazuma speaks of him often. Why isn’t he here, after Kazuma helped defend him against murder?

Kazuma quirks a reassuring smile in Susato’s direction, like he’s read her mind, and she relaxes. He explains, “Murasame-san insisted on accompanying us to the harbor, so I insisted on sharing our ride with her. It should be along soon.”

Susato nods. She and Kazuma said their goodbyes to Grandmother yesterday — too cruel to force her to wake up at the crack of dawn for this — so that just leaves… “What about Father?”

“Professor Mikotoba’s at the docks already,” Kazuma says. “He wanted to get the paperwork for our exchange student trip in order with the sailors.”

Susato’s still not used to hearing Kazuma call her father — their father — Professor Mikotoba. She understands why, of course: Kazuma Asougi’s adoption into the Mikotoba family is on strict need-to-know basis. It’s secret even from Haori, who comes over to study almost every week; it’s why Father refers to him as Asougi-kun outside their walls and Kazuma-kun within it. But she’s never been able to call him anything but Kazuma-sama, even though on his part —

“Judicial Assistant Mikotoba, could you help me lift this trunk?”

There it is.

“Coming,” Susato calls. Kazuma, she thinks, is deceptively good at facades.

The two rickshaws are waiting on the road already. After Susato and Kazuma heave the trunk into one (maybe she’s still not fully awake, because there’s a sound like a human “Ow!” as they tip it into the compartment) and they pay the drivers, the two of them — plus Haori — squish together on the seat of the other rickshaw, and they’re off.

“I still can’t believe you’re both going to England,” Haori gushes as the cart’s wheels rattle under them. “We’ve read about it so much, haven’t we, Su?”

“We have,” Susato agrees, smiling. “Oh, that’s right — I told Father to give you the Randst Magazine issues that will arrive while I’m gone, so you can keep reading The Bride of Hallow’s Eve.” It’s a time-honored tradition between them: Susato reads every monthly issue from cover to cover (though really the highlight is always The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes), then gives it to Haori so she can read her favorite parts (usually the serialized romances). Susato would hate for it to stop just because of the addition of an ocean between them.

“Oh, thanks so much, Su!” Haori clasps her hands together in delight. “You’re so gallant!”

“Th-that’s not the right adjective for a girl, I think,” Susato deflects. Heat is rising to her face. Kazuma smirks sideways at her but stays silent.

“But there’s no better one for you!” Haori giggles, the smile lines of her eyes creasing, as Susato’s face goes even redder. “You’re like a gentleman in a girl’s body, Susato.”

“Um,” Susato says. Alongside the embarrassment, there’s a confusing, fizzy joy filling her chest that she doesn’t know how to deal with. Susato Mikotoba, gentleman. She could get used to that. “I—”

“Would you look at that, we’re almost there,” Kazuma swoops in. Susato shoots him a grateful look for the rescue. “Judicial Assistant Mikotoba, you remember what to say when we embark, yes?”

“Of course,” Susato says. They had practiced how to get past the expected questions — why Kazuma’s judicial assistant was female, why she was not yet of age, how they had met each other in the first place. “If all else fails, I’ll simply give them my best Susato Toss!”

“And I’ll come running with Karuma.” Kazuma pats the sword that’s always hanging by his side. “Just give me a shout.”

“I will,” Susato promises, as the cart rounds a corner and she first glimpses the hulking silhouette of the S.S. Burya. At least the happiness that buoys her now is familiar. It’s really happening, isn’t it! She’s going to England with Kazuma by her side, and she’ll finally get to practice in an actual court, and she’ll make her father proud and have so many stories for her grandma, and…

“I just wish you could come too,” she tells Haori. Then the tableau in her head would be flawless. “I’m sure you could learn as much about medicine as I could about the law in England.” That was close to what her father had done for six years, wasn’t it?

Haori sighs. “I know… but Su, you deserve this most out of anyone! You studied so hard to go! Don’t hold yourself back because of me!” She leans forward to stare intensely into Susato’s eyes. “You’re the most upstanding judicial assistant I know!”

Susato is fairly sure she’s the only judicial assistant Haori knows, but still she blushes when she answers: “Well, I doubt I deserve it more than Kazuma-sama, but I’ll… try to remember that. Thank you, Haori-sama.”

“There you go talking like an old man again,” Haori laughs, settling back into her seat. Susato immediately misses the weight of her gaze. “Just remember to write.”

“Of course I will,” Susato says, the words as light as air, just as the carriage grinds to a stop near the entrance to the harbor and the driver hollers for them to disembark.

As Kazuma heads towards his luggage (to… sweet-talk it down? She loves Kazuma, but sometimes he really is strange), Susato offers an arm for Haori to step down from the rickshaw. Haori takes it gracefully, and Susato wonders at how easily their hands fit in each other’s. Haori has a singular calluse at the base of her thumb — testament to the years she’s spent writing medical reports, Susato knows — and suddenly Susato’s heart aches.

She’ll miss Haori. For all that her father calls her mature for her age, this realization hits her with all the impossible longing associated with being a sixteen-year-old in love.

(Not that Susato is — not like that — not —)

How long until she sees her again? It’s not as though Susato is anyone special — what if she returns to Japan and Haori has forgotten all about her? What if England tears the memory of her best friend away from Susato and she comes back unrecognizable? What if…

“Su?”

“Judicial Assistant Mikotoba?”

The voices reach her simultaneously and she realizes she’s been staring at Haori for… entirely too long. Kazuma’s trunk is already being carried away by some sailors, in fact.

“Ahhhhh! I’m sorry!” She lets go of Haori’s hand, face burning, and picks up her luggage. “I’ll go put this on board!”

“Susato—” Kazuma calls after her, but she’s already gone.

The sailor she meets doesn’t know any Japanese and Susato doesn’t know any Russian, but they manage to meet in the middle with awkward English. She’s studied enough British law books to at least warn him that the bags are heavy before he takes them, though he’s not convinced until he fails to lift one and has to call another person over. Susato frowns to herself as she walks back to where Kazuma and Haori are. She really needs to brush up on her general English once she’s on the ship…

She spots Haori standing quietly next to her father, who’s discussing ship logistics with Kazuma, when she returns. “Judicial Assistant Mikotoba,” Kazuma says easily as he looks up. “So you didn’t need any violence after all.”

“They didn’t ask me anything,” Susato reports. She’s almost disappointed — she had practiced the right level of friendliness and all. (And the optimal method for a Susato Toss.) “Perhaps they will upon boarding?”

“Perhaps,” Kazuma agrees, then steps aside respectfully as Susato’s father hands her a boarding ticket. She runs a finger over the gilded paper, the excitement rising again despite herself. How thrilling, being on a steamship for the first time! It’s like a scene straight out of the Adventures! Oh, to be carried through the waves and inhale the salty air of the seven seas!

She only barely manages to rein herself in enough to hear her father say, “Asougi-kun, your cabin is on the top deck. Susato, yours is in steerage.”

“Oh.” Susato blinks. For some reason she’d been imagining them in adjacent rooms. “We’re going to be far apart then?”

A split second of conflict washes over Haori’s face before it resolves into determination. “That isn’t right, Professor Mikotoba! Su shouldn’t be separated from the attorney she’s assisting!”

“Yes, it’s quite unfortunate,” Susato’s father agrees gently. “But as I understand it, the other priority cabin has been reserved for someone boarding at… Shanghai, I believe?”

“Shanghai, China,” Susato murmurs to herself. She’s read about it in some magazines as well, but she can still hardly imagine the place. “That’s where our kanji characters come from.”

“That’s right.” Her father sighs. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you a better cabin, Susato.”

Haori looks downward, a little wistful. “It’s so unfair how they’re making you stay alone…”

“I’ll be fine,” Susato lies. “It’s not as though Kazuma-sama could bring anyone onboard, either. And I need the studying time!”

“Speaking of which.” Kazuma casts a glance at the ship. Is that guilt in his expression? No, it can’t be. “We should probably get—”

The ship’s horn blows. They all jump, Susato clapping her hands over her ears.

“—going,” Kazuma finishes. “I think I have to check in with the sailors guarding the first-class deck as well.”

Susato nods, then turns to face her father and her best friend, trying to conjure up her resolve. “I suppose this is goodbye for now, Father, Haori-sama.”

Her father takes a few steps closer and then, unexpectedly, wraps her in a hug. She buries her face in his shoulder — she’s almost as tall as he is now, she realizes. “Be careful,” he whispers into her ear. “Remember that you’re a young woman in a foreign country. Safety is always the first priority.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Susato says, as he lets go and looks her up and down, like he’s trying to memorize the look of her even after ten years.

“Good.” He turns to Kazuma, doesn’t hug him but does ruffle his bangs affectionately. It’s a dangerous action around someone like Haori who doesn’t know about their family situation, Susato knows, and her throat aches at the sight of Kazuma’s answering smile. “The same goes for you, young man. Be careful. Some things should be avoided even when you’re carrying Karuma.”

Kazuma’s hand drifts to his hip, brushing over the hilt of the Asougi clan sword. He'd fought for weeks to gain permission to carry Karuma onboard, Susato knows. His voice is a little rough as he answers, “I know.”

“Hey Su,” Haori pipes up, and Susato turns. “I, um, got you something. Hold out your hand?”

Susato does. She watches Haori fish around in the folds of her clothing and find something that she presses into Susato’s palm. Susato has enough time to process that it’s small and made of iron before Haori gently closes Susato’s fingers around it. For someone who spends a lot of time in laboratories, Haori’s hands are surprisingly warm, Susato thinks.

“It’s a good-luck charm,” Haori explains. “From the temple near our house — they said it would protect against any natural disasters and sea monsters. I know you’re a scientific person and everything and so am I but I thought you might want one and I wanted you to have it because I’ll be worried about you because who knows what could happen on a steamship—”

“Haori-sama,” Susato says.

“Eep!” Haori stops. “Yes?”

Susato swallows. “I love it. Thank you.”

“You haven’t even looked at it yet,” Haori says, a pink tinge settling on her cheekbones.

“I’d love anything you gave me,” Susato says. It comes out far too sincere, but when Haori blushes harder she finds she doesn’t mind.

The horn blows again, making Susato wince. “I suppose we really must be going now, Kazuma-sama?”

“Right,” Kazuma says. “Thank you for seeing us off, Professor Mikotoba and Murasame-san.”

“Of course,” says Susato’s father. “Ah — Susato, you know your grandmother can’t stand chilly mornings, but she did want me to pass on her well wishes.”

“Tell Grandma I’ll write,” Susato responds.

“We’ll miss you, Su, Asougi-san!” Haori clasps her hands together. “You both have to tell me all about London!”

Susato’s throat suddenly feels tight. Oh no, is she about to cry? She blinks quickly and only just manages to say, “Of course.”

“Judicial Assistant Mikotoba,” Kazuma warns, flicking his eyes towards the Burya.

Oh, and despite how long she’d practiced for this day it’s so hard to leave them. Her father, her grandmother, Haori… Is it wrong of Susato to board this steamship now? To abandon them all the same way that, sixteen years ago, her father —

No. No, she can’t think that way. Susato forces a wobbly smile on her face and says, “Yes, let’s be off.”

And as they walk up the gangplank, as they stand on the deck of the mighty S.S. Burya, as the ship’s horn blows its final warning and they wave to the two tiny figures on the ground — Susato comforts herself: at least she knows that Kazuma will always be by her side.

[maddy-ferguson]

Ngl, I really think that these bylers that are crying 24/7 about "purity culture" or whatever, are playing dumb when they start with their "but Nancy and Steve were 16 and 17 in that scene of s1!!!1" like... We got introduced to these characters at that age and the people playing them were already adults. So yeah, sorry but I think it's easy to see why most viewers would be uncomfortable with a more sexual scene of Mike and Will and it's not automatically homophobia, I think that would be the case with any of the kids since we got introduced to these characters when they were 12 and the actors were babies as well. We literally saw those kids grow. And I'm not saying byler should only get to peck or hold hands, It'd be cool if they have their epic kiss or whatever, but Will hasn't even had his first kiss yet and some of these people are already talking about sex scenes, like... Be for real 😭

funny you should say that...because i've used the nancy was 15-16 in season one argument (last tag) before while also saying that i understand why people find the sex part of their sexualities uncomfortable to discuss. and i wanna reiterate that, again, i totally understand that people feel like they've seen them grow up etc etc and that they still think of the actors themselves as children even thought they're not anymore.

i don't think it's all homophobia because like you said, people would probably feel the same about lucas and max and discussions of sex (i don't know if anyone is discussing that because there's much less discourse to have there and you can't argue that people are homophobic if they disagree with you) but i don't think it would be justified either. the "but we knew the characters when they were little" argument makes me think me of an ancient disney channel/abc show that old people and girl meets world fans who watched it for the first time in the 2010s will know, boy meets world (1993-2000). classic comic of age show, look at these kids. and eric in the back (he's fifteen).

they're eleven at the start of the show and then, what happens in any coming of age story happens, you guessed it...

they grow up. this is them in the later seasons, when the main characters are still in high school i think. they grow up, they talk about sex and about having sex at prom in season five and then they don't have sex right away because they figure it's not the right time yet or something like that, and then they have sex later and get married, the details don't matter. but my point is, who watches a show for five seasons, over years and years and gets upset at the main characters having sex because "this is crazy they used to be children"? isn't that the point of coming of age stories that cover multiple years or that focus on the latter years of adolescence, that they're not children forever and that at one point the characters "come of age" which usually includes their first sexual experiences?

i don't think the having sex part is particularly important in stranger things but also it doesn't have to be for it to be portrayed (see jonathan and nancy), teenagers have sex, it's just the way the world works. i'm not advocating for sex scenes of any kind especially because stranger things isn't a show that features a lot of sex in general, the only "explicit" sex scene being nancy and steve in season one with cuts to barb dying, but i genuinely don't think the duffers would have any qualms about portraying teenage sexuality in general with the party. if they did, they wouldn't have included erica threatening lucas to tell dustin what she found under his bed (it wasn't the communist manifesto) and they wouldn't have had max looking at a shirtless steve for an amount of time that's supposed to make the audience laugh. it's been 7 years. if they do a time jump, the babies will be about 17, played by actors who will all be around 20, the age natalia was when filming season one. the characters are teenagers, babies grow up. it happens to the best of us. i get why people would find it uncomfortable and maybe i would find it uncomfortable too but i wouldn't be scandalized. the duffers had no problem having a child actor portray everything will goes through in seasons one and especially two, i really feel like sex is fine and...not traumatizing or hard to watch compared to every single thing will's gone through lol. and again, i'm not even expecting them to have sex lmao, but i wouldn't cry myself to sleep if they revealed that everyone in the party actually knows what sex is.

last question: do we have any indication that jonathan had talked to more than one other girl (the girl at the halloween party being the one girl i'm counting for him) before he got together with nancy. i'm just asking because of your last sentence, because if we don't he should have slowed down also😭

[wonderingprince]

@whinedarksea

Early evening in the city----- the air is warm in a comfortable sort of way, the streets a wash of golden light that utterly fails to mask out the traffic and the people. Ben wanders along, one headphone in, half listening to another endless argument between Sammy and Alexis ( classmates, friends, pain in his arse. ) Usually, Ben would mediate, either willingly, or when they would turn to him and demand he settle it for them. Tonight he finds himself uninterested, impatient with them. He's more than slightly regretting agreeing to go and get a drink----

-----ooooh, dog!

It's an excuse to duck away from the others' argument as much as he also really, really wants to pet the handsome boy wagging his tail at him. Ben reaches out, hesitates, glancing up at the man on the other end of the leash. "Sorry, can I----??"

( The others haven't even noticed he's gone; he'll catch up with them later. Or tomorrow. )

[imminent-danger-came]

if you've read pjo have u listened to the musical?

if so

tell me luke's lines in 'last day of summer' aren't majorly azure lion coded :3

Currently I'm about 7 chapter into the Sea of Monsters! When it comes to the musical I've only listened to "Good Kid" and now "Last Day of Summer"!

Percy and MK continue to have their overlap, and then Luke and Azure:

So I'll do anything I don't care if I hurt anyone It doesn't pay to be a good kid, A good kid, a good son The gods were never on our side So I think it's time we watch them fall

Mr. "Nothing is won without sacrifice" who succeeded in overthrowing the Jade Emperor definitely fits here

[fuzzyunicorn]

Ah my lil Scientology Satanists :) I’m about to launch a heavy, heavy assault, not to kill you (yet) but to toy & toy & toy w u all :) hope u all know god has commanded me to slaughter you all :) not yet, but soon. So soon. Very soon. You’ve all, every single one of u, each & every one of u, have been MFD (marked for death)

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru was confident that you liked him back. He was positive. He had no doubt in his mind that you were going to be his pretty little wife. Is he getting ahead of himself? Sure, he is, but he's that confident. That's until he noticed how he hadn't received any chocolate from you.

It was Valentine's Day, and he still hasn't received any chocolate from you. Yeah, he had a mountain worth of chocolate from all those people who gave him it, but where was yours? He couldn't find it anywhere. He was sure that you would have placed your chocolate on his desk since you hadn't given him his. He double no triple checked all the chocolates, yet he could not find the one that has your pretty little name written on it. He continued to search through the chocolate pile for the fourth time today.

He must have missed it, right? Or did someone steal it? He swear he's going to hunt that person to the end of the Earth. Who dared to steal something that was rightfully his?

"Satoru, calm down."

He looked up at his best friend, who was trying to hold down a laugh at his panic.

"She'll probably give it to you later. The day just begun."

Right. Suguru is right. You'll give him his chocolate later. He's a good boy. He can wait.

That's what he told himself, but Suguru and Shoko have already received theirs this morning, and his is still nowhere to be found. Where is his chocolate? You're just sitting there in your seat, looking all pretty as if Satoru is not going through a huge dilemma because of you.

He couldn't help his hands that kept inching itself closer to the chocolate you gave Suguru. He wouldn't know if he snatched it, right? Suguru had received a lot of chocolate! He wouldn't know if he took it... was what he convinced himself before Suguru slapped his hand away.

"Satoru," he sighs.

"But Suguru!!!" Satoru whined as he sunk down into his seat.

"Be patient. You'll get yours soon."

But how soon is soon? Satoru isn't exactly known for his patient.

It was the end of the day, and still no chocolate from you. He asked Suguru and Shoko to leave first because he thought you would finally give it to him when both of you were alone. But you haven't. Where was his chocolate?

The two of you were approaching the exit of school, so Satoru made a quick decision, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into an empty classroom. He quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Satoru?" You asked in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"My chocolate."

"Your chocolate?"

"My chocolate from you! The symbol of your love towards me!"

"I didn't make you any," you replied smoothly. "Forgot to make them yesterday, so I woke up early today to make them, but I guess not early enough. I only had time to finish Shoko's and Suguru's. I didn't have time to make yours. Otherwise, I would have been late."

Satoru swear the world just ended. He looked down at his chest because he swears his heart ripped out of his chest at your words. Nope. Still alive. Why is he still alive in this cruel world? You had no chocolate for him? None? Not even a crumb?

"That's fine with you, right? I mean, you got a bunch of chocolate from other girls! You don't need mine."

He swear he is about to burst into tears. He didn't care about other girls. He didn't care about their chocolate. He wanted yours. How could you be so cruel and deny him of your chocolate? To reject him like this? He was devastated. No. Beyond devastated. Where is the closest cliff so he can jump off?

Pure silence radiated the room as Satoru tried to comprehend this horrible situation. Then he heard a small giggle slip pass your lips. That small giggle soon turns into a full-out laugh.

"You should have seen the look on your face, Satoru," you say as you try to stop laughing.

Was this funny to you? Why were you laughing at his suffering? Do you know how much he looked forward to today? To receive the cute little wrapped up chocolate you made for him? He dreamed of today, and you didn't have chocolate for him?

He then sees you reach into your bag and pull out exactly what he had imagined. A cute little chocolate box wrapped up in a baby blue color with a touch of white ribbon to finish it off. Fuck. He thinks he just got a heart attack seeing your chocolate. His chocolate.

"Princess, please don't joke like that to me ever again. You scared me half to death. I was going to jump off a cliff," he whined as he took the chocolate from your hand.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his dramatic behavior. "Stop being dramatic, Satoru. It's just chocolate."

A look of offense dawned his face as you utter those horrendous words to him.

"Chocolate? Just chocolate?" He huffed at you. He can't believe you as you treat this amazing god send gift as just chocolate. "Don't you dare call this just chocolate! This! This right here is proof of your undying love towards me!"

You laughed at his antics– "You're getting ahead of yourself, Satoru."

He delicately placed the chocolate safety away in his bag, treating it as a prized possession. He's looking forward towards white day. He already knows what he wants to get for you. He pulled you into a hug, nuzzling his face against your neck as he mutters– "You won't be saying that after I wife you up."

[caputvulpinum]

Here you all go. Here's the answer to all the questions you never had about soy sauce and a single foreigner's totalitarian influence being a large part in leading to a massive decline in quality and a departure from important cultural traditions. There will never be a 2 hour video essay from me about this. There will never be a book about Blanche Appleton that I write. I had the closest thing I've had to a suicidal episode since I was 13 because of someone harassing me and deciding against literally all evidence that what I had in the end publicized was a racist and insensitive narrative rather than a carefully researched history pieced together with a team of multiple professional archivists internationally and a group of native Japanese speakers and Japanese academics.

I'll give all of you some free advice. Next time you get excited about your special interest on tumblr, don't talk about it.

I cannot fucking believe how much I'm losing my mind right now over soy sauce history. I'll tell all of you about it after I finish this essay because I need to un-distract myself enough to finish it but what the fuck? What the fuck is going on? I'm losing my fucking mind.

EDIT: if this is in your recommended page before you askme any questions about updates or whatever please just check the tag i'm using

EDITx2: this investigation is currently ongoing with live information being added as it is confirmed as relevant; I did not expect the entire internet to give a shit about soy sauce, and so early in the investigation there is quite a lot of outdated information, which has since been corrected, grown more in-depth, and begun to piece together into something more cohesive.

i am currently waiting on a response from the National Archives, a soybean innovation laboratory contact, and a researcher of the works of the Chief Historian of the United States during the occupation. this investigation is not an ARG, and in the real world, actual research takes time on a scale outside of the usual social media expectations. please respect that i cannot speed up the wheels of bureaucracy for you.

please just fucking respect me as a person, y'all, i promise that any of you reading this from recommended pages have absolutely no idea the level of shit that's been thrown my way over fucking soy sauce.

[etfrin]

⤷❝Can't be Shared | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | somnophilia, mentions of prostitution (Snow was going to 'share' you) cunnilingus, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), possessive af Snow, impact play (he slaps your thigh once), ruined orgasm (you do cum in the end) | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow was going to share you with the elite of the Capitol but changed his mind halfway through only to have his way with you and make you the First Lady of Panem

⇢☾A/N: hehe, the longest fic I have writing so far, hope y'all enjoy this and reblog ;)

<masterlist> < bc: @cafekitsune >

He thought he would be okay with it. He was sure he would be okay with it. But he wasn't. Snow's blood boiled when the rich elitist of the capitol had begun to touch you, whisper you praises, and whatnot. The only thing that was going in his mind was his, his, his.

When had he gotten so attached, he wasn't supposed to be. Letting them touch you, and play with you was a strategic decision to get them hooked and you weren't meant to be his Queen but something had changed. Something snapping in him when the Capitols’ richest eyed you like a meal.

His jaw was clenched and he cleared his throat, “I changed my mind.” He said, “I am not sharing after all.”

You are his. His property. His bird locked in his cage and now his Queen. He pulled you closer, away from prying hands. He glared, memorizing the face of any and everyone displeased, thinking of plans of how to dispose of them quickly because even if briefly they had touched you that was a sin. No one taints the Queen but a King.

He cordially finishes dinner, keeping in mind he was a president, a newly appointed one at that even if he wanted to he couldn't drag you into his room and have his way with you. But he wanted to. His free hand is on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a small bruise. His hold gets tighter the more he has to smile pretty and act polite.

You hadn't said a word, you weren't sure what to say. You were ready to be shared, used, and then discarded. Snow had told you of this beforehand, but he had changed his mind and you were grateful.

Even as he marked you, made you whimper with his grip, giving your thigh a warning squeeze to be quiet. You were relieved that he decided not to share. You were his, you liked that you were his.

Dinner took longer than you would have preferred, but when it finally came to an end, Snow leaned into you and whispered, “Be on my bed wearing my shirt and nothing else, my bird.”

You didn't reply. You get up, walking into his room, heat choking your veins and making your pussy ache and wet. You close the door as you reach the master bedroom of the manor.

Going into his closet you picked on a red shirt, knowing that it would match your skin tone well. You had taken everything else off, your panties and previous clothes on the floor. You were in full display as you didn't even button up the shirt. Your breasts are exposed to the cold air making your nipples harden.

You sat on the bed, waiting for him to come. One minute bleeds into ten and you laid down on the bed. One hour turns to several and your eyes close up. Sleep catches up with you.

You woke up with a gasp. Sleep at the edge of your mind but your mouth lets out a moan wantonly as several things hit you at once.

One. Snow was here.

Two. Snow was between your thighs, his hands keeping your thighs wide and spread for him.

Three. His lips were on your clit, sucking it vigorously making you arch your back and wanting to flinch away from the intensity.

And you tried to move away, your bud sensitive more with pain than in pleasure. How long was Snow like this, sucking at your clit. Your pussy was now impossibly slick and throbbing, wanting to be filled.

A slap was delivered onto your thigh, a hitched moan leaving your lips because of the delicious pain. “Behave,” Snow sneers at you, his blue eyes looking ravenous, his face smeared with your arousal. This was Snow? You thought for a brief second. For once he felt like a man brought down to his knees by a woman instead of something untouched.

“Sorry,” you gasp out as he dives into your cunt. His tongue drew circles onto your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing. You never thought Snow would be sloppy at anything, you thought wrong because his breathing was loud, warn air of his pants grazing your sex. His stubble brushed against your sex as all of his attention was overstimulating your clit.

He finally lost interest as you cried out that you were close just by him playing with your clit for who knows how long. It hurt. It felt good. Perfect, delicious pleasure and pain. You were dizzy, your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

He leaves your clit alone, but his tongue finds its way to the rest of your pussy. His tongue traces your folds, your slit, and the inside of your walls. Leaving no parts of your cunt untouched by his mouth. He was licking every drop of your juices, all the while he made you wetter.

Your hands were fisted into the sheets, your hips subtly moving for friction. A notion that was stopped with a squeeze of his hand on your thigh. You were brought to your high, so close to the edge you would fall in a second as moans spilled from your lips.

Only for that to be snatched away as Snow moved away. You cry out, “No! Please!” But Snow merely raised an unamused eyebrow while his hand wiped his mouth. “Snow, please,” you whispered, feeling the heat and the high of your lost orgasm.

He lets out a scoff as he sees your desperate state. “My meal is finished,” he merely said. His hand takes off the red suit, the same color as your (his) shirt. His fingers unbutton his white shirt, revealing his toned physique. Those same hands now unzipped his pants, his boxer down to the floor revealing a hard cock. The well-rounded tip leaking pre-cum.

“But I am not done with you yet,” he muses, as he moves in closer. You were sitting up now and his hand was on your nape.

“I don't think I'll ever be done with you,” he whispers, the words sealing a promise of forever. “Don't be,” you whispered back, leaning to catch his lips. Your arms around his shoulders to pull him on top of you, to feel his weight, his skin against yours.

Primal instincts take over you both as you kiss. Desperate whimpers and deep groans could be heard and his teeth sank into your bottom lip. Making it bleed and making him suck your blood into his mouth. He pulls back with a gasp, his eyes wide, his lips swollen. His taste was of a dessert you couldn't name. Addictive and delicious.

His left hand was on your cheek, another still on your nape. His thumb brushes your cheek in a manner of caring. “You're the Queen of Panem now,” he announces, making your heart jump in surprise. “The First Lady of Panem.”

With that, he seals his words with a kiss. Soft and ravishing, his tongue explores your mouth. Your hand is in his hair, the blonde locks between your fingers as you kiss back with everything you have.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing with yours, “My bird in a cage. My property.”

“I'll make sure everyone at Capitol knows it,” he said, his eyes looking at you with the ferality of an animal stripped to his bare instincts. “Is that understood, my bird?” He asked.

The answer couldn't be anything but yes. So you replied exactly that and he grins. He looked beautiful in that moment, his charms coming out making you even more needy.

You pulled him in for another kiss, his lips smiling against yours as both of your tongues tangled. His hand lowered itself and cupped your cunt. His fingers trace your entrance and you whimper into his mouth but he doesn't breach in.

He gathers your arousal on his digits, and he pulls back from the kiss to take the digits into his mouth. After sucking his fingers clean, he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself.

His hands pushed you down on the bed, your legs on his shoulder. He takes a deep breath, taking you in, his bird being such a pretty mess.

He placed a kiss on your thigh that was unbelievably soft that for a moment you didn't believe it was action done by Snow's lip but the harsh bite of his mouth marking the skin of your inner thigh proved otherwise.

He leaned down, his hand in your hand above your head. Your free hand dug into his shoulder, forming crescent marks that made him groan, a choked-off desperate sound that you wanted more of.

All the while he placed his cockhead right at your entrance. You gasp as you feel the tip slip inch by inch into your velvety warmth. You wondered if he was going so slow because he wanted you to adjust to his length. However, one look at his face told you were wrong. His blonde strands clinging to his forehead, his lips parted and letting out hot breaths all the while his eyes closed shut, his eyebrows furrowed as he buried his dick into your cunt with the slow pace.

The reason he was going slow was because he wasn't sure if he could last and fuck, that got into your head. Birds are little teasers and you were no different so you clenched around him. His length half pushed in and felt your pulsing cunt wrapping itself tighter around him.

His eyes fall open as he lets out a grunt of surprise and pleasure, “Fuck.” His icy eyes glare at you, “Don't.” Your pussy only clenched further in reply and his hold gets harder, pressing your hand into the mattress as he sank in completely without a warning. “Ah!” You let out in surprise, the stretch painfully perfect.

“Take it,” he whispered to you, his lip biting your earlobe before he dragged his mouth to the pulse of your neck to mark you up properly as his property. His hips now beginning to move, calculated and controlled just like every other action of Snow. Every thrust hits your g-spot relentlessly, making you gasp and moan, back arching in pleasure.

“Gentlemen make their women cum but you're not a woman. You're my property but I am merciful so cum. Cum on my cock untouched, my bird.” He groans into your ear as his pace gets faster, a tad bit of desperation creeping in as his hips slam into you without a care. You could only moan in reply, truth is you didn't need to be touched to cum. His cock, his skin against yours, his mouth sucking your neck, and placing love bites were enough. More than so.

The heat was already forming in your stomach, waiting to be released and spread all over your body. The final push hadn't come long after. As you and Snow shared a filthy open-mouthed kiss, he had thrust so hard and deep, a small bulge had formed, your cervix being kissed with his cockhead.

You cry his name and your pussy comes on his cock, milking his length with repeated squeezes. “That's it, my bird,” he praises as he continues to abuse your cunt with his dick. Your nerves are oversensitive making you whimper and teary-eyed. He found his release with a whimper, his hot cum filling your womb. He pulled out with a small gasp and you wanted him again.

His hand ran through his hair, pushing the sweaty strands up. “First lady of Panem,” he stated, looking at you and then your body, his cum falling out of your cunt.

“First Lady…” you whispered, in disbelief and for whatever may come in the future.

[torpublishinggroup]

Celebrate Pride with Tor Publishing Group!

The Water Outlaws by S. L. Huang

Mountain outlaws on the margins of society, the Bandits of Liangshan proclaim a belief in justice—for women, for the downtrodden, for progressive thinkers a corrupt Empire would imprison or destroy. They’re also murderers, thieves, smugglers, and cutthroats. Together, they could bring down an empire. 

Now available in paperback!

Somewhere Beyond the Sea by TJ Klune

The long-awaited sequel to The House in the Cerulean Sea is a story of resistance, lovingly told, about the daunting experience of fighting for the life you want to live and doing the work to keep it. Welcome back to Marsyas Island—home to six magical and purportedly dangerous children. This is Arthur’s story.

The West Passage by @jpechacek

When the Guardian of the West Passage dies in her bed, the women of Grey Tower feed her to the crows and go back to their chores. No successor is named, and no hand takes up the fallen blade, so the West Passage—the ancient byways of the beast—goes unguarded. This is a weird and delightful journey across a deliriously medieval landscape where decay thrives in abundance and giant Ladies rule a palace the size of a city. 

Blood Debts by Terry J. Benton-Walker

On the thirtieth anniversary of the largest magical massacre in New Orleans history, Clement and Cristina Trudeau mourn their father and care for their sick mother. But their mother isn’t sick, they learn: She’s cursed. Cursed by a member of the same magic council over which she used to preside. Cursed by someone who will come for Clement and Cristina next. 

Now available in paperback!

Bury Your Gays by @drchucktingle

After so many years, Misha’s big Oscar moment is here. All he has to do? Kill off the gay characters in his long-running streaming series, “for the algorithm.” Misha refuses, but that’s hardly the end, because monsters from his old horror movie days have begun to step out from the silver screen and stalk him. 

The Brides of High Hill by Nghi Vo

The Cleric Chih accompanies a young bride to her wedding to Lord Guo, the aging ruler of a crumbling estate, but amid the elaborate courtesies and extravagant banquets, they realize something haunts the shadowed halls. As the big night nears close, Chih will learn that not all monsters dwell in shadows; some hide in plain sight. 

Remedial Magic by Melissa Marr

1) An unassuming librarian falls in love with a powerful witch. 

2) Previous librarian discovers she too is a witch…

3) …and that she must attend magical community college to learn how to save her new world from annihilation. 

Swordcrossed by @fahye

Part-time con artist / full-time charming menace Luca Piere didn’t expect to get blackmailed into teaching a chronically responsible merchant Matti how to wield a sword. He also didn’t expect to find his charge so inconveniently handsome, or to get so entangled in his tale of intrigue, sabotage, and matrimony. 

It’s important to read Swordcrossed because while you’re reading gay fiction, you can also study the blade.

Celebrate Pride with more titles from Tor Publishing Group here!

[not-neverland06]

I don't know why I bite

Logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: Had Mitski’s ‘I Bet on Losing Dogs’ on a loop while writing this, now I’m sad Inspired by the isle of dogs quote “I’m not a violent dog, I don’t know why I bite” BECAUSE OUCH (they’re both toxic, fair warning) bittersweet ending Summary: You've tried for so long to get Logan to accept you the way he does the others. You want so desperately to be someone who means something to him. But he doesn't want you, maybe he never has. And you both seem to be stuck in this loop of hurting each other.

You’re stability, security, but you’re never comfort. Try as you might, you just can’t get Logan to accept you. You want to. So desperately, you want to be something good for him. But he hates you, or at the very least, he can’t stand you. 

You don’t know what it is about Jean that he craves, but you wish you could replicate it. You’re not your friend, though, you never will be. And it’s pathetic, trying to change yourself to make someone else happy. You’ve never done that before. Yet, there is something about Logan that you want so desperately to help. 

You clean his wounds, metaphorically because he’s never once needed anyone for that. You lift him up after a rough mission and you remind him that the team does need him. They do love him. They want him in that uniform beside them, even Scott. 

You have your suspicions that he doesn’t appreciate your efforts. He’s never outright said anything to you. But you can tell the novelty of your kindness is wearing off. He used to brush your efforts off with a simple look. 

But he’s begun to be mean, saying these little things that you can never completely call out. A lot of what he says is based in truth. “Do you ever stop talking?” No, you don’t. You like talking with your friends, like sharing stories, and laughing together. 

“Has anyone ever told you to fuck off?” Yes, and it hurt. And it continues to hurt. “Why don’t you just shut up for once?” You can’t. You can’t because if you stop talking, if you stop distracting yourself then you’ll actually feel everything. You can’t stop talking, you can’t stop taking care of others because you cannot take care of yourself. You’re incapable of it. 

You can’t say that he’s being rude or mean. He’s just being blunt, and gruff, that’s just how he is. That’s what everyone tells you. They tell you to just ignore when he’s being a dick because he doesn’t really mean it. That’s just what he does because he doesn’t know any other way. 

You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have placed so much faith in others. You should have just left him alone. Maybe then he wouldn’t have snapped, wouldn’t have said such cruel things to you. 

It broke you a little inside. Hearing what he really thought of you. Despite it all, despite the cruel words and harsh attitude, you had hope. You thought they were all right, that he just needed to warm up to you. And you so desperately just wanted to be something for him to lean on because you’ve never had that before and you know what it feels like to be so lonely. 

“Hey, Logan.” You step into the kitchen, rooting around in the fridge for something to snack on. “Weren’t there apples in here?” You’re talking aloud, but it’s meant for yourself. 

It’s that moment that it all finally comes crashing down. This pathetic illusion that he wants anything to do with you or your friendship. It almost makes you laugh, that this mundane moment is when you feel your heart shatter in your chest. When you get so sick to your stomach your bones ache and your limbs tingle with this odd phantom pain. 

“Could you just shut up?” his voice is low as he leans over the counter. His fingers spin idly around the neck of a beer bottle. You wonder how he managed to sneak it in here, Charles has banned alcohol. You watch the condensation collect on the cracks of his palm and shrug the pain off. 

You’re used to this. This is normal. “Right,” you squeeze past him and look in the pantry. “Sorry,” you whisper, if you speak any louder your voice will crack and that will just make everything worse. 

“You’re just always around, aren’t you?” You glance over your shoulder at him but you don’t respond. Deny it as much as he wants, you have gotten to know him. You recognize the tells. 

He’s had a bad day, he needs a way to get it out of his system. You just happened to walk into the kitchen at the wrong time. It could be anyone he snaps at, but today it’s you. Which seems to be happening more often. 

You do what you did when you were a kid, eyes forward, face flat. You keep yourself neutral, let yourself sink into that apathetic place so whatever he yells at you doesn’t hurt. “You tiptoe around me, act like I’m this wounded stray you need to fix.” 

Your brows pinch in confusion and you shake your head. Second mistake. You shouldn’t have walked into the kitchen in the first place. And you definitely shouldn’t have argued. “No, Logan, that’s not true-”

Although, maybe he has a point. You can’t fix yourself so you try and fix him. 

“I don’t know why they keep you around. You contribute nothing, you do nothing for any of us. We can’t even take you out on the field,” his voice begins to raise and you find yourself backing into the cabinets, hating the way this is beginning to make you feel. “You’re so fucking sensitive we can’t trust that you won’t just kill us all if something goes wrong! You don’t deserve a spot on this team!”

You jump back as he shouts at you, hip jamming into the corner of the island so hard you have to bite your lip so you don’t make a noise. Spit flies from the corners of his mouth, the ferocity of his voice and words are that strong. 

You take in a few quick breaths, blinking the sting out of your eyes and focusing on the wall behind him. “Get it through your thick fuckin’ skull,” he warns, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want you around. Leave me alone.”

You don’t cry, you can’t cry. You don’t speak because you’re afraid of what other cruelties that might provoke. Maybe you would understand all this if you’d been bugging him when he’d already made it clear he needed space. All you wanted was a fucking apple. 

You don’t feel much of anything as you slowly nod your head, not agreeing but appeasing. He watches you with something like surprise on his face. You don’t know that he’s wondering why you’re not saying anything back. 

It’s why he yells at you when he doesn’t know what to do. You can take it, you can put him in his place. But you’re not speaking and he doesn’t know why this time is so different. 

Finally, you turn on your heel and leave, footsteps soft as you retreat back to your room. Logan watches you go with an odd twisting feeling in his stomach. He didn’t think you could be pushed too far. You seem to always just have this endless patience. 

You treat him gently, even when the others get sick of the way he processes things. Today was hard, you just happened to be nearby. He didn’t mean half of what he said. He doesn’t know why he lashes out the way he does, he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

He doesn’t like it, contrary to what the others think. He doesn’t like hurting you or being mean to you. He doesn’t know what it is about you that provokes this side of him that no one else does. Maybe it’s because he’s afraid. He can’t say what he’s afraid of, he’s never been able to admit it to himself. 

He’s yelled at you plenty of times before. You don’t know what it is about that one day that was so different. Normally, it doesn’t bother you. You’ll set him straight or give him space. But today, it was needless. You weren’t doing anything. 

You didn’t deserve to be lashed out like that, cornered and scared in the place you call home. 

It was unprovoked and maybe it finally made you see him for what he really is. A bully. It doesn’t make sense, how he can be so kind and caring to Marie. How he can help Jean and Ororo so sweetly, but can’t muster one kind fucking word for you. 

You don’t let yourself cry, even though you want to. Even though there’s a cloying, suffocating feeling clawing its way up the back of your throat. His room is on the same hall as yours and you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he made you cry. 

You, at the very least, finally stop asking yourself what you did wrong. Instead, you start to wonder what’s wrong with him. You get sick to your stomach, thinking about all the ways you cared for him. Remembering how much of yourself you gave up to make him happy. 

He was right about that, you are pathetic. He never deserved your help or your patience. You should never have offered him any grace. You’re embarrassed that you didn’t see it sooner. This isn’t a little boy pulling your pigtails because he likes you. This is a grown man who can’t regulate his emotions and decided you were the next best punching bag. 

You take in a few deep, shaky breaths and close your eyes until you’re forced to fall asleep. You don’t want to think or feel any of what just happened.

Logan hovers in front of your doorway for ten minutes before he heads downstairs. He’s got a class to run, he doesn’t have time to wait for you to wake up, he reasons. He’ll find you later and apologize then. 

It didn’t take a genius to realize he had gone too far yesterday. Even if you could take his usual level of dickishness, you didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t know what to do around you. You made him confront so many different conflicting emotions. It’s like every time he looks at you his brain is being ripped in twenty different directions and he doesn’t know what to do. 

You’re so endlessly patient and gracious. It makes him realize he wants to be a better man and he can’t be. He resents you slightly for that. For having such a wonderful idea of what he could be, even though he knows he can never be that man.  

He doesn’t find you that day. He makes up enough excuses that he goes to bed promising himself he’ll apologize tomorrow. Which he never does. Because actually saying it would be an admittance that he knows what he did was wrong. And what does that make every other time he’s yelled at you? What does that make him?

It returns to the same cycle it always does. He waits a few days until things are cooled down and you’ll have already forgotten about it. He starts to feel overwhelmed and he goes to find you because you always know what to do. And if you don’t, then you provide an outlet. 

He spots the back of your head in the gardens. You’re with Jean and he expects the usual dirty look she gives him after you’ve both fought. Instead, she smiles warmly at him and waves. Which is odd, usually you tell her about what’s happened between the two of you and she holds the grudge longer than you do. 

You glance over your shoulder, a small smile on your lips, to see who she’s waving at. Logan sees the way it falls when you see him and his steps falter. You never do that, you always look so happy to see him. 

“Jean,” he greets curtly, eyes on you. 

She says hello and they both look to you. Normally, you would have already spoken. But you don’t, you turn your eyes to the kids. Jean frowns and turns back to him, “Everything alright, Logan?” 

He can’t take his eyes off of you. You read his moods, and know them better than he does. You should have already offered to talk. Maybe he really does need to apologize. The thought leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

He says your name and your brows just barely raise in question, though you couldn’t seem less interested. “Need to talk to you.”

You shrug, “Sorry, can’t. I’ve got a meeting to get to.” You brush past him and walk back into the mansion. He and Jean both watch you go, each of them shocked by how dismissive you were. That’s never happened before. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Jean demands, the smile gone from her face and her tone deadly. She glares at him, clearly expecting an answer. But he doesn’t have one. Because this is something he’s done a million times and this has never happened. He doesn’t know what’s gone wrong. 

He thought your absence would be a relief. After a few more days he begins to realize that he was wrong. He thought that not having someone constantly badgering him to be better and set good examples for the kids would be a relief. 

There’s no one nagging him. No one forcibly checking on him after a mission when he doesn’t need it. No one to care. 

There are chunks of his day that you would normally fill that now seem to drag on. Lunches are quiet without you constantly rambling about nothing in his ear. When there’s friction among the team and they’re ganging up on him, you remain silent. He supposes he should be grateful. 

You finally listened to him for once. But he’s angry. He always seems to be angry and he doesn’t understand why. There is so much of his mind and life that was stolen from him. He wonders if he got any of it back if it would explain why he is the way he is. 

It doesn’t matter because it wouldn’t fix what he can’t undo. He sees you with the others constantly. You’re always laughing, always happy. Like nothing’s happened. Like you haven’t cut him out of your life completely. And then, when you’re around him, it’s like a switch is flipped. 

You’re irritatingly silent. Practically a brick wall. He pokes and he prods, using every weapon in his arsenal to try and provoke a reaction from you. But you give him nothing. 

There is an ache in his chest when he sees the way your smile drops when he walks into a room. He doesn’t understand the feeling. This is exactly what he wanted. To be left alone. 

It feels so wrong. 

It happens in the kitchen again. Odd, that that’s become such an important place to you. 

Your back is to the entrance and you’re busy slicing up some fruit for yourself. You don’t hear him come in. Not until he speaks. “I’m-” you jump at the sound of his voice. Whirling around with a shocked look on your face. 

He chuckles a little at the reaction but when you don’t smile he stops. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. It sounds semi genuine. But it also sounds like it hurt him to say. “I’m sorry, so can you please just stop ignoring me?”

You shrug and go back to cutting up the fruit. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“No?” He demands. “Then why don’t you talk to me? Why don’t we eat lunch together anymore? You can’t even fucking look at me.”

You slam the knife down on the cutting board, taking in a deep breath so you don’t do something you regret. Your nails dig into your palms, trying to center yourself. “I’m doing exactly what you wanted,” you utter, voice low. 

You turn just enough to make eye contact. “I’m leaving you the fuck alone. That’s what you wanted right? I don’t think I could have misheard while you were screaming it at me.” You turn to leave, abandoning your fruit because you don’t have an appetite anymore. 

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispers before you can make it out of the kitchen. “I,” he stops and starts again, “I miss you. I’m not a mean person, I don’t know why I hurt you.”

You stare at him, face unflinching. You give him nothing and he knows it's what he deserves. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it-”

“Good,” you cut him off with a disgusted sneer. “Because I’m not looking to hand it out. Especially not to you. You only want me because you miss what I do for you. You don’t deserve my forgiveness. You don’t deserve me.” You turn on your heel and walk away from him, unwilling to entertain any more conversation. 

This is what you’ve always done. When someone hurts you, really irrevocably hurts you, they’re gone. They’re gone from your life. From your mind. More importantly, your heart. You don’t have any obligations to entertain him or speak with him outside of professionalism. 

You thought cutting him out of your life would hurt more. But it’s like you can breathe for the first time in months. You’re no longer striving to gain someone’s approval. You’re not chasing after something you’ll never catch. 

You can find happiness within yourself. Begin to do the things you would do for him, for you. It’s a relief. And a little sobering. Perhaps, in your mission to help him, you’d burdened him with the desires you had for yourself. 

You believe that you’re unfixable. You believe there are facets of yourself that are too dark to face. That you are undeserving of love and kindness. You recognized those things in Logan and tried to force on him what you’ve always wanted for yourself. 

It was wrong. A mutually toxic relationship that never would have made it far had anything actually happened between you two. You can’t paint yourself the victim and you never meant to. It’s why you didn’t tell anyone what happened between the two of you. 

They wonder, of course, why you no longer spend lunches together. Why you no longer rush to defend him when he doesn’t need the help. Why you don’t smile around him anymore. There are questions that you deflect. Saying, you just needed space from each other. 

Your harm was a silent one. Forcing him into a mold he was never going to fit in. Despite the claims of loneliness, you can see the way your absence benefits him. He’s calmer, less likely to yell when provoked. He just needed the space to find himself. Not to have someone try and make him something new. 

You feel an ache in your chest when you think about how differently things could have been had you just let him be. If you had let things happen between the two of you naturally then maybe you really could have been something great. 

A month goes by without speaking to each other. After that day in the kitchen, he seems to understand that there’s no putting back together what was broken. It was already cracked to start with, the break was inevitable. 

You warm slowly to him. Give him polite greetings when you see him. And he smiles at you sometimes, on the jet when Scott says something ridiculous, or just in passing. It’s nice, being a stranger to him. It’s comforting. 

“We need to stop meeting like this.”

You look up from the paperwork in front of you and give Logan a small smile. He’s hovering in the entrance to the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for your permission. “Hi,” you say softly.

He takes that as the go-ahead and walks in, heading for the fridge. You listen to him rummage around before he pulls out a beer. “Where do you hide those things?” You ask, and you almost bite your tongue. This is the most you’ve spoken to each other in a long time. It feels wrong to joke so easily. 

“Can’t tell you or Wheels is gonna stop me,” he grumbles. You just nod and turn your head back to your paperwork. It’s silent for a few minutes after that. He sits a little further down the island, nursing the beer while your pen scratches across the reports your students gave you. 

He clears his throat and you glance over at him from the corner of your eye. “I,” he starts but quickly closes his mouth. “Ah, forget it.”

Your brows pinch in confusion but you decide to leave it. You oddly don’t feel scared or anxious. You don’t worry that he’s going to snap at you if you provoke him. You choose not to because you’re not interested in engaging. 

You don’t really recognize the man before you. Maybe it’s because you never tried to get to know him before you tried changing him. It causes that familiar clenching feeling of guilt in your gut. 

You know if you gave him a chance things would be different. You could be friends, real friends. There’s a reason you latched so readily onto him. There’s a familiar pain in him that’s reflected back in you. 

You stand up, shuffling the papers into a neat stack and pushing your stool in. Logan straightens up as he watches you wash off your dishes and collect your items. Before you can make it out of the kitchen he’s standing from his chair. 

He stops in front of you, hand outstretched before him. “Logan,” he greets. 

You tilt your head in confusion, glancing between him and his hand before it finally clicks what he’s trying to do. Start over, reintroduce yourselves. Actually give each other chances to understand the other. 

This all started because you shared the same pain and you resented each other for it. But you could comfort each other instead. Be pillars of stability and strength in each other’s lives instead of trying to tear the other down so you don’t see yourself in them anymore. 

You were both too afraid to face who you truly are and it nearly destroyed you. But this is a stranger in front of you. You don’t know this man, but you think you’d like to. You give him your name and shake his hand firmly. “Nice to meet you,” you whisper, a slight joke to your tone. 

He holds on for a second longer than he should, the breath rushing out of him like he hadn’t thought you would accept. You smile softly at him before you pass by to go upstairs. His hand lingers on your, skin tingling under your touch until you can no longer hold on. 

You don’t know what it means for you, this odd new truce between the two of you. But you won’t linger on that tonight. You’ll go to bed feeling comforted that for the first time since you’ve met him, Logan has made you happy. 

a/n: felt more like a diary entry than a fic, sorry lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always ♡

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.2k

genre: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour.

But sometimes, it backfires spectacularly and gets him into trouble.

Which is why he stands in front of his fuming manage, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

Not only is Jungkook’s charm complicating things, but the fact that he is famous too.

Sometimes, he uses that as an advantage. Not in an obvious way — never by flaunting his own achievements or demanding special treatment.

That’s not his style.

His name alone carries weight, and he knows how to let it work for him, quietly bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Standing in front of his manager, Taesung, and his PR agent, Jiwoo, eyes downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” he pleads desperately, looking back and forth between his manager and his PR agent. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at the manager, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just a month away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But his manager doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[wonderingprince]

@divinecounsel

Ben has been in the library since it opened first thing this morning; a lifetime of rising with the dawn is a habit that's hard to break. He's tucked away in a corner, not far from the architecture section, at one end of a long desk. Other students are starting to trickle in now that the hour is more reasonable, hurrying through on their way to class or settling down for the day. Every now and then he takes a break from the book he's reading to just watch the ebb and flow of people, or to reply to a text, but for the most part he has his head down, working steadily.

Good grades don't materialise out of nowhere, no matter how smart you are.

He's leaning to the side to scribble a note into his pad, fingers carefully holding open the page in his book, and when he looks up again there's a figure sat across from him.

He didn't notice them sit down. Ben blinks, but doesn't think much of it, offering the newcomer a shy smile. He pulls his notepad a little closer to give them more space across the table. "Morning," he offers, assuming they sat here for company, as there are still plenty of empty tables in the library.

[knighthelmetgirl]

I DID EVERYTHING RIGHT

WHY DO I FEEL SO BAD