#i assume you meant the frame from the old comics

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's end ✨ || bts • myg - chapter 1.8

"so eager to be in a headlock again?" "only if it's by you."

he thought he was done with the criminal life and ready for some peace and quiet. but his plans collapsed in the form of a strange girl who was in trouble. © 2023 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to lovers s2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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a/n: SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG! But it's 6.6k words so I hope it'll make up for it :')

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Seoul, South Korea

"Oh, I also got ice cream! You want ice cream?" Soyeon snickered, giving in at her grandmother's constant asking of whether she wanted to eat something. It made the old woman happy whenever she accepted her offerings and besides, she wouldn't say no to ice cream. "Sure, why not." Her eyes wandered around then, remembering the main reason she had decided to pay her a visit after only a few days again. "This photo there, where was it taken?" She pointed at a frame hanging next to the tv where a muted news resport was playing.

Her grandmother followed her finger, squinting at it while trying recalling its origin. "Not sure, your grandfather sent it from one of his trips," she recalled then. "Perhaps its written behind the photo." The younger woman stood up and walked to the frame, carefully taking it from the wall. The reason this photo had caught Soyeon's attention was because of her grandfather posing in front of a big and impressive looking gate she didn't recognise with another man. A friend, she assumed as they were both looking happy.

With a hum she returned to her seat and turned the frame to open it. Only for a piece of paper to fall onto her lap. Her heart beginning racing as she picked it up with curious eyes. Only for her expression to turn puzzled, recognising a row of weird symbols on it.

An arrow with a W. A square. A rectangle with a semicircle on top. A triangle. An umbrella. A star. A keywhole with the word 'oro' written beside it.

Her eyes widened. She didn't know what 'oro' meant, but that keyhole-symbol reminded her of the golden key she'd found behind another photo the previous time. It had been a photo of her grandfather at a temple or palace she didn't recognise either. Just like with this photo now. Placing the piece of paper aside, she took a better look on the photo. Seeing something being written behind it. The letters had almost faded, but she could still recognise her grandfather's words on it.

'Me and M. at Little South Gate.'

"Grandma? Can I borrow this photo?" "Hm?" Her grandmother looked up from the bowl she was preparing. "Oh, yes sure, my child. Keep it, if you want." "No, it's okay. I'll return it soon," she smiled and watched her grandmother going back to the ice cream. Taking her phone out then, she decided to look up what 'oro' meant and also where this Little South Gate was.

And her breath hitched, almost gasping at the translation her phone gave her.

No. Could it be?

Quickly shaking her head, she placed the device down. Even if it was a lead, she couldn't follow it up. She had promised Yoongi not to go look for it alone and she didn't want to ignore his request again considering what had happened the last time. Her eyes fell at the thought of him. She was worried, wondering if he was doing alright.

How was his weather?

With a wisp of melancholy, she removed her phone case, revealing the polaroid photo inside it. The candid photo of Yoongi taken what felt like an eternity ago. And suddenly, a queasy feeling overcame her. A premonition, a gut feeling. Telling her something bad was about to happen.

And she knew she couldn't just sit there idle anymore.

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3km outside of Kyoto, Japan

"Alright, I see three guards at the gate." "Another two on the east side." "And west side." "At the back?" "There as well. They wander around every ten minutes, to the point." "How many inside?" "Probably another handful." "If not more."

Yoongi lowered the binoculars from the brightly lit mansion in the distance, a thoughtful expression set on his usually soft features. "You said two on the east side, Jimin?" The younger man nodded, lowering his own binoculars when Taehyung next to him shifted. Turning around and sliding down to prop his back against the abrasive rock. "And two west," he repeated with an exhausted sigh, "And two on the back." "Fck," Yoongi muttered under his breath. Zooming in and following the gravel path from the entrance, around the koi pond in the japanese garden until reaching the entrance of the traditional Sukiya-zukuri building that was facing the pond. "And only one way in and out." "Technically yes, but we could always climb over those walls." Jimin's gestured with his chin to the tall stone fence surrounding the whole property. A mischievious grin spreading on his lips. "Or you could just cut a hole in it with your sword." The older guy huffed a laugh. "Always the easiest escape, isn't it?"

It was around midnight when the three finally left the hill and made their way through the covert. It was half a kilometre away from their actual object of interest, but it was the highest set place close by. And besides, a bigger distance meant they most likely stayed out of unwanted attention.

"So.." Taehyung said when sliding into the passenger's seat. The other two soon sitting inside as well and Jimin started the engine. He rubbed his hands briefly as the cool night breeze of the city's outskirts had frozen his them. "..the plan is set then?" Yoongi hummed, taking out the blueprint again from his pocket and shining the flashlight on it. "Guess so, unless something changes."

The plan so far was easy. Taehyung and Jimin, as the official guests, would enter through the main entrance. Getting past the cameras and the guards behind the gate. Obviously with no weapons on them as the guards were checking everyone who entered. Meanwhile, Yoongi had to climb in from the tree next to the wall on the back side without triggering any sensors or getting caught by the two other guards there. Sneaking into the building then from a guest room, finding them and secretly handing them their weapons.  So whatever the hosts were planning, they'd be armed at least.

Easy.

Maybe too easy.

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Friday evening arrived sooner than expected. The two thieves finding themselves passing through the golden painted gates of Morita's property. "Getting in now," Taehyung whispered, "You ready?" "In position," Yoongi's voice responded through the in-ear-transmitter.

The gate had opened fully now, revealing three man in black suits behind it. Staring them down with stern faces. Stepping out of the car in their suits, they adjusted the ties around their neck. Already seeing the guards approaching them.

Taehyung and Jimin exchanged quick glances before walking up to them. Jimin pulling out their invitation from the inside of his blazer. Handing it to the closest standing guard with an innocent grin who rather harshly snatched it from his grip. Examining it with a scrunched nose before eventually snorting and nodding, indicating they were allowed to proceed further inside. The other two guards stepped close then, beginning with the frisking of their bodies to check for weapons.

After deaming them as clean, they wordlessly stepped backwards. And the two took the hint and continued walking up the path to the house's entrance. Their eyes scanning the environment for any differences between their observations and now. Everything looking normal, no suspicious last-minute changes as far as they could tell.

Entering the two-story mansion, they arrived in the large central area. The ground being replaced by a glass square in the middle with a zen guarden in karesansui-style underneath it. Walls covered in arrases. And at the far end, a staircase that led to a balcony on the top floor. The door behind them abruptly closed then but they didn't even flinch. Too distracted by the two older men appearing on the balcony, overseeing the lower area.

They immediately recognised one of them from the photos of Arabella's background check and the party back then. Emilio Rossi was dressed in an elegant beige suit. His large grey moustache wiggling as he wrinkled his nose at their sight. The second one, dressed in a traditional black kimono, was their other host, Morita. Behind them, the private rooms according to the blueprints.

"Welcome, gentlemen. Glad to see you were able accepting our humble invitation." Jimin's lips curled into a smirk at Morita's words. "See, we always accept invites containing an ultimatum." Emilio huffed at his sarcasm, seemingly unamused, contrary to his co-host who let out a short loud laugh. "I admit, I wouldn't have accepted your declining. That is true. Nonetheless, I'm very pleased to see you could make it after all." Morita's hands went up before coming back together in one single clap. "And now, let's enjoy this night. Shall we?"

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While Jimin and Taehyung got to know their hosts better, Yoongi was following his part of the plan. With his katana slung around his back, he ruffled his hair before pulling over the black beanie that matched his black outfit, keeping him almost invisible in the pitch-dark night. He threw a hook with a rope to the protruding branch of the tree standing in the mansion's guarden. Tucking at it to ensure the hook was firmly clamped around the wood, he pulled himself up and climbed onto it. Carefully making his way over the stone wall, surpassing any sensors on it.

He did so fairly soundless, so the guard partolling at the back didn't notice him. And when he stood right under the branch, Yoongi was able to easily jump down onto him and knock him out with one precise hit. After dragging his body to the bushes and hiding it there, he peeked out of them. Spotting the second guard further down. And so he snuck up behind him, laying him out as well. He glanced at his watch then before his gaze wandered around.

If they had timed it correctly, the next guard would come in around eight minutes due to the largeness of the property. Leading him to have to move fast. However, as he had almost reached the sliding door to the back area where the lavatory and kitchen were located, a faint crackling echoed through the silence, causing him to stop in his tracks. Was there another guard? Had they mistimed the guard switch? Slowly turning around, he spotted a young woman standing there in a snow-white kimono. And a katana in her left hand.

Well, either he managed to somehow proceed with plan a despite this encounter now or.. plan b had to be used.

He decided to try proceeding with plan a first.

"Uhm, hello!" he faked a cheery and trustable sounding tone. "And who are you?" The woman, however, didn't seem to buy his harmless demeanor. Cocking a brow at him. "I'm Morita Kimiko and you're an unwanted guest." In a slow, dramatic gesture, she held her katana in front of her face and slid it out of its sheath. Pointing the blade at him while her other hand remained wrapped around the shealth. And Yoongi dragged a sigh, his arm reaching over his shoulder to grab his own sword from behind. Letting it slowly slide behind his neck, between his thumb and index finger. Deciding to give her an equally dramatic scene.

Looked like plan b it was then.

Breathing in the fresh night air, he held his katana up. Its sharp blade flashing under the moon's light. And they locked gazes, waiting for any small movement to initiate the fight which was soon given, when a breeze rustled the leaves around them. And he instantly ran towards her, his blade meeting hers as she dodged his move.

Their piercing noises cut through the air as they fought. Launching their swords towards each other only to keep meeting. After minutes, both paused at opposite ends to take a breath. Pointing their blades into the space between them. Kimiko let him near her slowly, until the swords rested against each other. Eyes never leaving the opponent. And just in a blink, the fight continued. Swords hitting each other over and over again. It seemed as if he had found an almost equal opponent in her. Although he managed to surprise her and cut the shealth in her hand in two, Kimiko firstly seemed to overpower him in combat. Taking him off-guard for a moment and sending him backwards to the grass covered ground. A smug smirk appearing on her lips.

"Silly boy likes to play with samurai swords.." She heaved her katana, the tip pointing right at his torso. "Perhaps you can at least die like one." His jaw clenched for a second before the corners of his lips tucked into a wide grin. And without saying a word, he got back to his feet. Taking a deep breath and holding his sword up in front of his hardened face. His eyes gleaming under his furrowed brows as he blowed away a strand of wavy hair that had fallen in front them. "Attack me," he commanded then. Voice low and steady. "Attack me with everything you have." And Kimino's smirk widened, seemingly thrilled. Accepting.

However, this time it only needed a few moves by Yoongi to abate her pride. Swiping across ther kneecap over the long fabric, sending blood onto the white silk and down her socking. Shocked, she limbed a few steps back. Both breathing heavily as they stared at each other. "For ridiculing you earlier.. I apologise," Kimiko breathed into the warm air. "Accepted," he responded. An anew silence building between them before Yoongi spoke up again. "Ready?" "Come on."

They engaged once again. The injured woman quickly noticing her weakened state as his blade kept pushing hers back. And in a desperate attempt to buy her some time, she ran behind a picket fence that was decorating a part of the garden. Yoongi quickly following along from the other side until she reached its end and emerged from behind. Trying one final attack, only for her blade to be cut in half. Leaving her completely unarmed.

The young woman slowly sunk to her knees, forcing a smile of sorrow. "Guess now I  will die like a sumurai." Yoongi could only roll his eyes at her dramatic acting though, as she even closed her eyes. Taking advantage of her not seeing it coming, he hit her with a trained blow of his sword's shaft at her temple. Leaving her unconscious. "Silly girl, assuming I'd be a killer like her." And just like the guards, he also dragged her body to the bushes.

His glance falling to his watch then. One minute until the next guard would show up there. He needed to be quick.

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"So," Jimin began then with a bored expression as he looked around, "What exactly is this whole party about?" Back inside no one had noticed the sword fight that had taken place outside between Yoongi and Morita's daughter. "Oh, you know," Morita said with a sly smile, "Since you seem to like parties - or so I've heard-" His glance briefly wandered to Emilio. "- I thought of throwing one especially for you. See it as a farewell party, before you hand yourself in." Taehyung frowned, faking confusion as he played dumb to play for time. "Okay.. and why?" "Isn't it obvious?" This was the first time this evening that Emilio spoke up. An equally annoyed and contemptuous glare in his eyes. "Admittedly, we unintentionally wrecked your family's gala, got your son intentionally arrested and ruined your family's reputation, indifferently," Taehyung listed on his fingers before pointing one at Emilio with raised brows, "So we get why you would wanna see us behind bars. I just don't get how we pissed off you." His finger glided to Morita.

Both older men exchanged a look, holding a gleam of amusement, before glancing back down at them. "You don't know who I am?" "Oh, please," Jimin intervened with clear offence in his voice. Arms crossing in front of his puffed out chest, "Of course we know. We aren't some noobs, we obviously did our preparations. We just don't get why you, a high-ranking member of one of the biggest and busiest crime organisations would bother so much for one of his - I don't know - fifty associates. Pretty sure he isn't the first one getting arrested." Morita laughed under his breath. "Indeed, from the outside it must seem confusing.. However, Felipe Rossi isn't just one of my best business partners when it comes to run art objects and antiques from east asia to europe and facilitate deals and buyers. He's also a close friend. And very loyal, which he proofed by not betraying me or giving me away. Despite interpol having suggested him a very lucrative deal for mitigation. So naturally, when I heard of what happened, I reached out to Emilio here. And besides.." He paused his explanation, eyes darkening when remembering something. He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before quickly snapping out of it and redirecting his focus to his two guests in the lower area again. "Call it gratitude for coincidentally also taking revenge on an old friend for me." Jimin and Taehyung locked gazes, silently wondering what Morita meant.

"Anyway," Emilio took the lead then. Touching his moustache out of habit, "Since you accepted our invitation, I must assume you either are smart enough to agree turning yourself in or you're foolish enough for believing negotiating would work." "Hm, and what if neither one is the right answer?" "Then you're incredibly naive either way." Morita held his hand out, stopping his co-host as curiosity sparked in his eyes. "And why did you accept then if you aren't here to allow us bringing you to authorities? You must know the consequences of that, don't you? I believe Emilio is quite generous by wanting to leave you alive and only turn in to interpol. My preferred solution would be quite the.. opposite." He smirked cockily. "You know, torture of you and everyone you love.. this kind of consequences." Jimin shrugged, not letting his words get to him and affect his mind. "Oh, you see. We could always just try and fight." "Is that so?" The older man suddenly revealed a dagger from one of his kimono's broad sleeves. Holding it up in the air, as if he was showing it off, only to ram its tip into the wooden railing. And the sound of hurrying vehicles echoed from outside.

Taehyung sighed. "Is that what I think it is?" Morita smirked. "You two didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?" "You know, for a second.. yeah, we kinda did." "Silly thieves."

Fast steps were heard from a side corridor, a man with a wooden stick appearing only for more men in black suits to suddenly jump out from behind him. All slide-doors around them were pushed aside, even more men in suits holding all kinds of weapons, mainly katanas, appearing. Pouring out from all openings.

The two friends shortly being circled by around fourty members of Morita's organisation, pressing their backs against each other. Jimin's hand slowly going up to his in-ear. "Yoongi? I fear we must proceed with plan b."

"Figured already."

Some men in the back began to yell out in pain all of a sudden, one by one falling and even the ones in the centre seemed alarmed, wondering what was going on. Jimin and Taehyung immediately taking advantage of their short distraction, jumping onto the ones in front of them and knocking them senseless. "Took you long enough, man!" "Sorry, got hindered." Yoongi quickly passed them their weapons before swinging his sword over his head and piercing an attacker behind him. As he sliced and swirled across the floor to clear the space, Taehyung spotted the large lamps hanging from the ceilings, and with a precise shot, let them crash down on several opponents. Jimin paused to glance at the balcony then. Only catching a glimpse of their hosts before they disappeared behind a sliding door. He snorted, going straight to punching a guy, who was about to attack him, in the face.

The three managed making their way to the staircase, running upstairs while fighting off the rest of the men who followed behind, being close on their heels. Even sending one rolling down the stairs with a kick. With slow steps the gang members climbed the stairs, angry expressions on their twisted faces. Eyes fixated on the three who were also slowly stepping backwards with their weapons in front of them. Not noticing entering a wide area, the members entering as well while some even cut through the paper-walls to get inside as there wasn't enough space.

For an unknown reason, the lights went out. Solely the light from outside illuminating their silhuettes and  weapons. And after seconds of silence, the fight went to its second round. It was easier now as only around ten men had remained, so while Jimin and Taehyung dealt blows and gunshot wounds, Yoongi was skillfully slicing and punching. After eliminating all but one shaky soldier, the lights were turned back on, and they saw the last man standing was nothing more than a zealous teenager. Yoongi huffed, cutting off the boy's blade in one blow. The boy remained staring at him with big frightened eyes when he lunged out and cut another piece and another, until only the shaft was left in his shaky hands. "Get out," he banished him out with a harsh tone. And the three went to the other rooms, finding them empty.

"Where the fck did they disappear to?" Jimin's question was quickly answered when they heard the sound of an engine starting. They immediately rushed back downstairs and out of the mansion. Seeing a black limousine heading towards the opening gate only to abrubtly stop right after passing it. And they were about to run after it when they heard the reason the car didn't escape. "Morita Hideo, this is interpol! You're surrounded! Stop the engine and leave the vehicle with hands raised!" "That's our cue," Yoongi whispered, about to return to the backyard and follow Jimin's suggestion of a quick escape, when steps echoed behind them. Causing them to instantly freeze. "I know you bunch.. So we meet each other again."

The voice sounded familiar. Slowly, they turned around seeing agent Kim Namjoon grinning widely at them as he folded his broad arms. Standing firm and tall in front of his men. "Oh, you again!" Jimin laughed out, not the hint of nervousness in his face. More the opposite, he was relieved he didn't have to deal with some random, unknown agent but at least one he knew. Made it easier to work his charms. "How comes we meet each other here?" "Me and agent Jung are after this guy, Morita, for quite some time, you know. Finally gathered enough evidence against him." His chin motioned to the direction of the entrance gate and their eyes followed. Indeed observing agent Jung Hoseok putting handcuffs onto Morita and Emilio, escorting them away from their car. "And why did he invite you guys over?" Taehyung arched a brow. "How do you know we were invited?" Namjoon only laughed. "We obviously had Morita under constant observation. We knew he was planning something. We were only surprised to see that Rossi guy here. But when we also saw you arriving - and you sneaking in -" he peeked at Yoongi, "- we began to understand."

He stepped forward then, pulling out his handcuffs from the back of his belt. Two other agents following his move. "Don't worry, Seokjin will have the honour of returning you to Seoul. I'll just keep an eye on you till he arrives." "Ugh, don't tell me you snitched on us to pops," Jimin whined dramatically, only earning a dumbfounded look from the older agent. "'Pops'?" he repeated amused, musing for a moment when eventually chuckling. Deep dimples appearing on his cheeks, giving him a childlike appearance for a moment that contrasted his sturdy physique. "That's new, but kinda suits him. But no, we didn't 'snitch on you', he was already on his way when we contacted him." The three shared confused glances as they got handcuffed. Had they been careless and got seen somewhere? Or had their interpol agents suddenly become even better in locating them than usual? 

They were led to the waiting interpol vehicles outside then. Seeing agent Jung approaching them with a wide grin on his heart-shaped lips when spotting their bonus captives. "We deserve a pay rise for helping the robbery department once again, don't you think, Joon?"

As they climbed into the transporter, another car arrived at the scene. Three familiar faces stepping out of it, just as forwarned. "Well, well, well, look who we have here!" Seokjin was grinning from ear to ear when seeing them sitting nice and well inside the van. Only earning a cocky smirk from Jimin. "Always a pleasure to see you, pops. And Kook and Sky, too, of course." "It's still agent Jeon and Blake for you," Jungkook mumbled annoyed under his breath. Giving him a serious glance. However, Seokjin only laughed dryly, choosing to ignore the evident sarcasm in his opponent's words when a yawn crept past his lips. The late hour and unscheduled flight having taken a toll on his sleep. "Can't say the same," he said then, before facing his younger colleagues behind him. Gesturing for them to help the other agents and Jungkook and Skylar instantly nodded and walked away. He turned back to his favourite criminals then, his grin having returned. "Be nice criminals and wait here, okay? We'll be right back." And with that he shut the doors with a loud thud and locked them.

"So, you know what exactly the three were doing here?" Hoseok asked when seeing Seokjin approaching him. Namjoon joining them shortly while their agents were taking care of all the arrestees. However, all they got was a shrug from Seokjin as he ran his fingers through his hair. "Only what that girl told us, that they got an invitation from Rossi and this guy you were after, what was his name again?" "Morita," Namjoon quickly added. The older agent nodding. "Right, Morita. That's pretty much all the info she had - or at least wanted to share." The agents of the organised crime and special victims department only nodded with musing expressions. "I think it's save to say.. " Hoseok began then with a lower tone, as if he didn't want anyone to eavesdrop, ".. that Morita was helping Rossi taking revenge for his son." "Think so, too," Namjoon agreed, his glance falling to the transporter with the two elder men. "They set a mob of his men on them. If that doesn't scream revenge.." Seokjin was pensive, eventually nodding. "Sounds logical. I guess we'll see after the interrogation."

Jimin took his benefit of the agents' short discussion to let his fingers reveal a thin wire that was always hidden inside his sleeve for cases like this, which neither Namjoon nor Hoseok knew. And since Seokjin had assumed they had been checked by them for potential means, it had passed through. Much to Jimin's delight who was cracking open his handcuffs with a scoff. "As if I'd just wait." He went on to uncuff the other two as well. Yoongi immediately rubbing his freed wrists. "Do we know where our weapons are?" "Caught a glimpse of Jungkook receiving them from an agent and stuffing them into the trunk of their car." "Great." "Well," Jimin said, cracking open the van's door with the wire, "We got no choice but to look for them. I ain't going nowhere without my walter." Taehyung squinted his eyes at him annoyed. "Did I say not to get them? You know damn well I'm not leaving without my baby either." "Neither do I," Yoongi huffed. And Jimin only rolled his eyes before cautiously peeking out the ajar door. Locating any agents close by. He knew no one believed they'd make a run for it while so many agents were around and that's why they were left - even if only shortly - without supervision in there with only one guarding the van outside. It was always a big advatage getting underestimated.

"I see their car, it's around five metres to the right. There's currently only one guy standing in front of the door. Another one close by, six metres to the left. One of us could sneak to it and get the weapons." "I'll do it," Yoongi immediately shrugged. And indeed, he soundlessly stunned the agent guarding the vehicle, leaving him somewhere unseen at the side and in no time he had returned with their beloved weapons. Nobody having taken notice of him. Especially since everyone was preoccupied with the more than fourty other criminals who had to be taken into custody.

After hiding their weapons underneath their clothes, they put the cracked-open handcuffs back on, pretending they'd never been taken down and took their previous seats. Waiting and acting innocent. Moments later the doors opened again and in came the two younger agents along with an unknown one. "Oh, no, where's pops?" Taehyung faked disappointment. "Thought he'd have the honour of taking us back." Skylar arched an unimpressed brow at him as she sat on the opposite seat. "Don't worry, you'll meet him again at the station. He'll be driving our car back."

The vehicles soon began moving, heading south to the highway to Osaka, where the interpol branch office was located at. Yoongi's eyed Taehyung and Jimin, then the agents who didn't seem to have noticed anything. His eyes going back to his friends then, giving them an acute glance. And Jimin gave him a knowing look before using a bucking of the van to unnoticably shove one hand into his jacket. Pulling a tiny ball out he had originally intented for Morita, he gave the other two sitting opposite of him an almost non-perceivable nod. And the three held their breath as he clicked on a small button, smoke filling the narrow space and clouding the vision into a mist of white, causing the agents to instantly jump up in panic. "What the - No one move!" "Dammit, tell the d- tell the driv-er t-" However, before Skylar could even finish her sentence, she'd already sunken to the ground. "Sky? S-ky.." Another thud followed. And another. All agents laying unconscious on the ground, just like intended.

Yoongi quickly open the car door enough for the smoke to dissolve into the night air. The three finally respiring, taking deep breaths and getting rid of the handcuffs for good. "They never learn," Yoongi tutted, shaking his head, "Thought they'd have learned their lesson after Morocco." Taehyung lightly nudged his arm then. "Don't jinx it," he chuckled and they closed the door to not catch any attention of the other cars on the highway, although there hadn't been too many around. Jimin clearing his throat and picked up Jungkook's radio then. And with a perfect imitation of his voice, impersonating the young agent, he asked the unaware agents in the front to stop the vehicle at the side of the road and join them for a small emergency.

And just like planned, the vehicle indeed came to an halt. Soon another two agents opening the door to check what was going on, only to join the others on the ground. And Yoongi, Jimin and Taehyung quickly climbed acting normal. Even if someone saw them, they'd most likely assume they had a flat tire and that's it. Now all that was left was to hijack a random car passing by and - "Hey, get in!"

They instantly turned around at the unexpected voice, seeing a young woman bending out the window and waving at them frantically. Even with the wig and tinted glasses they could tell who it was. "Soyeon?" "What are you waiting for? Hurry up!" she yelled and got back inside. Watching them look at each other startled before running up to her and getting inside the car. And she quickly drove off, merging back into the sporadic traffic.

"Soyeon, what the fck are you doing here?" Yoongi's scowl from the passenger seat made her shift shyly. "I thought I was clear last time! I told you not to do irrational actions li-" She straightened herself though, intentionally cutting off his lecture as she didn't feel like hearing it again. "Be thankful I saved your ass again," she grinned at him, ignoring his angry stare. Yoongi only scoffed at this, sitting back in his seat. "We'd have found a different car." "Ohh," she pouted with innocence then, "But then I wouldn't be your getaway driver this time!"

Jimin and Taehyung stifled a laugh in the backseat. Jimin leaning in between the seats then, giving her one of his naturally charmy smiles. "Forgive his grumpiness," he waved off his friend whose aggravation only grew, crossing his arms in front of his chest, "That's just how he shows his concern for people he cares about." Soyeon's lips folded. Already knowing that, hence why she hadn't taken it with offence. Jimin continued then. "But I'm curious, how did you end up here? Don't tell me it was a coincidence. I don't believe in those, at least not when you wear a wig and those fancy glasses." "She obviously did something very dumb again," Yoongi muttered annoyed while staring out of the window. Trying his best to keep his calm at her getting herself in danger once again, for him, and failing. "For your information, it wasn't dumb. I think it was brilliant, maybe risky, but not dumb," she defended herself as she changed lanes to overtake a truck as she pushed near the speed limit. Fear of hearing sirens nearing any minute in the back of her mind. However, as she realised what she was about to confess, her cheeks blushed with embarrassment. "I.. actually, guys, I think I need to apologise to you first."

The three frowned, looking at her confused. "If it's because you feel guilty for 'dragging' us into this again.." Yoongi paused when seeing her shaking her head. "No, no.. I mean, yes, for that, too. But I didn't mean that." Inhaling deeply, she took an exit and left the highway. "I told agent Kim about the invitation. I knew, even if coming here I wouldn't be able to find you by myself. And I had this bad feeling, you know? That something terrible would happen. So I told them what I knew. They'd eventually find you with their methods after all. So all I had to do was letting them lead me to you." A small grin plastered on her face, as she couldn't pretent not being a little bit proud of herself. "And I knew you guys would sooner or later try to escape and indeed, you did just that."

Everyone stared at her with jaws ajar, being quite astonished by her plan. Taehyung being the first one to speak up then. A lopsided smirk tucking on his lips. "Damn, you've got it." Neither him nor Jimin showed any sign of resentment towards her for informing interpol. Much the opposite, they laughed. And she sighed in relief when seeing their reaction. It only lasted for a bit though, only until her glance fell to Yoongi who remained quiet while looking out at the buildings they passed by. "Uhm," she said then, averting her eyes from him with an uneasy feeling, "Where should I drive you guys to?" "Well," Jimin said then, glancing at his watch, "Considering pops will soon find out we escaped, I'd say we shouldn't waste any time. So get us to the airport, please." She nodded, following the signs with the airplane symbol.

With Taehyung giving her directions, the car eventually came to an halt at a secluded area next to the fence seperating the runway from the street. Far away from the actual airport for anyone seeing them. The hangers with private jets only a couple hundred meters away, where they'd simply 'borrow' one. "Thanks for the drive!" "We'll see you around." The two younger guys gave her a wink before getting out. Much to her surprise, Yoongi didn't follow. The two remaining in silence until he decided to speak up.

"Soyeon -" "Save your breath, I don't wanna hear about how much of an idiot I am or how dangerous and irrational this was." Shaking her head, she took off the glasses and the fake-blond hair. Her grip on the wig tightened. "You must believe me when I tell you I had a presentiment, okay? I didn't know what else to do, I knew you'd ignore my calls and texts, but I couldn't just ignore this awful feeling. Despise me, hate me, think of me of a fool if you want. But I don't regret it." Her jaw trembled by now as her built-up emotions flowed out of her lips. And Yoongi observed her quietly, before eventually reaching out to her hand. It loosened its grip on the wig, allowing him to hold it in his. "I could never hate you for saving me, angel. I'd be the biggest fool of them all if I did."

He was still mad. Incredibly mad actually. However, he was also in awe with her grit and persistent nature. And at the end of the day, she'd only done it because for some inexplicable reason she felt and cared enough for him to do crazy, irrational things like this. He drew closer, his other hand wrapping around the back of her neck. And as she turned her head to finally look him in the eyes, he pressed his lips on hers. Taking her aback. "Just what do I have to do to keep you from pulling a stunt?" His warm breath brushed over her skin as he rested his forehead against hers with a small grin. Streaks of hair lightly touching her lashes. Soyeon's eyes fluttered open then and she smiled at him. Her arms finding its way around his torso. "How about you don't give me any reasons to anymore?"

A knock on the car's window made them jump in their seats and they let go of each other in an instant. Seeing Taehyung's apologetic grin. "Guys, don't wanna interrupt the cute moment, but time presses." Soyeon coughed, swallowing the embarrassement. "You should probably go." "Yeah, right," he sighed and opened the car door, ready to leave before pausing. Smiling at her. "See you soon." And her face lit up at his words, eyes beaming. He didn't push her away this time, knowing very well how pointless it'd be. She was so damn stubborn. But also breathtaking. And he loved her for that. "So you won't tell me to stay away anymore?" "I promised I'll come back, didn't I?" He winked. "Just be careful and get back to Seoul as fast as possible, okay?" She nodded vigorously. Watching the man she loved leaving the car and cut a hole into the fence. Disappearing behind it with his friends and into the night.

Truth was, Soyeon knew whenever meeting Yoongi an adventure was about to happen. She could simply never tell what kind it'd be. And she didn't mind that. After all, she was both: someone who wanted to live a simple life as an introvert, getting lost in her songwriting while following a routine, but also someone who wanted to have all the joy and adventure that life coule give. Both these women living in the same body, but somehow never clashing with each other. The introverted one always prevailing.

Only with her choosing to let him into her weird little world, that had changed. And at the end, she was thankful for her grandfather leaving her that emerald necklace. 

Without it they might've never found each other in this universe after all.

»»»

next chapter: epilogue here

Don't forget to like, reblog & leave feedback! ♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

[lucianalight]

The legitimacy anon. Thank you very much for your reply! And please excuse me for showering you with asks. I am very glad you are better now :)

I agree with most what you say, but I do believe that some people are okay with TVA because they have a uniform. Also the framing, of course. I've been thinking. Another kidnapped character in the MCU (come to think of it, there's a ton of kidnapped people in there) is Tony. And I don't think a lot of people consider Tony's kidnapping to be deserved, even though he's deliberately shown to be an asshole and a weapon trader (he sheds both those qualities in his ordeal, too, but the process is not viewed as tough love or necessary for character growth or whatever; I don't think the framing allows for that sort of view). Tony's kidnappers are dangerous and Tony is clever and persevering for escaping them. Loki gets bitchslapped and fanserved instead, it's all comical, and he is constantly disrespected by the narrative. So assuming that the TVA comparison to terrorists is valid, Tony can be considered a better-handled example of such topics. That said, there is no Mobius in Tony's scenario, so they tried to humanize the TVA... through "Loki needs tough love" I guess.

Getting flashbacks to the electrocution scene. The fact that Loki is shown to "improve" after it is worse than anything else in it, including the fact that it's Thor doing it, imo. And it would have been so easy to have the Grandmaster do it, I'm just... Do they treat all "bad" characters as needing tough love??

Please excuse me for the thought dump. And thank you again. I love your content. I know some people find anti-series/TR/MCU content to be too upsetting, but as a person who did not quite enjoy what I saw, I really appreciate your way of putting those thoughts and feelings into words. It's validating too. I feel less like a crazy old lady. Thank you. Please do not feel obliged to respond, although your thoughts would be much appreciated :)

I'm two years late to answer and I don't know if you're still reading my blog but I couldn't leave this in my inbox. First to thank you for your kind words and then to say that your comparison was spot on.

The framing in S1 should have been similar to what happened to Tony in Iron Man 1. TVA should have been framed as evil from start and now having watched s2 I believe they meant to portray TVA agents as flawed brainwashed characters but the writing of s1 sucked and many people were rightly confused by contradictory framing of the show.

[milagrosen]

Lady KO as Mary Jane Watson. She said "Face It Tiger you just hit the jackpot." To bumblebee

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Do you have any thoughts about the clones situation? I only mostly hear about it from anti-Jedi people and how "being nice slavers doesn't change the fact that they are slavers", so I was wondering if you have anything to say or any post to recommend?

There's a perfect post by @trickytricky1 but I want to say a few more things. This thread right here is also pretty good.

The issue with the Clones is that it's pretty much impossible to examine their in-universe treatment without taking the irl writing decisions into account: namely, that most of what we know to be very, very wrong with the Clones' situation is barely acknowledged by the creative team, to the point we can pretty much assume they just don't care beyond what's convenient for a plotline. I mean, beside a few select characters Filoni is particularly fond of, the majority of the Clones are narrative props: they're here to be killed off to heighten the tension, to be comic relief, or to highlight a particular trait of the Jedi they're serving under - and of course, they're here to execute Order 66. I love them to bits and it often annoys me, but it's true. Just look at how little anybody irl seems to care about Cody, arguably the second most important clone in the franchise and the most important clone within the army: he barely got any screentime in TCW and was instantly sidelined out of the one arc where he had a chance to be the lead, he didn't appear in Rebels, and he wasn't even mentioned in TBB s1 despite his role in the squad's creation. Or consider how the Clones being overgrown children who should look only 20-ish and behave very differently from normal adults is never properly brought up - not even in Rebels where Rex is treated like a old geezer instead of the 30 year old he is, or in TBB, or with Cut whose adopted children are maybe five years younger than he is. We have to face it: the story never was and never will be about the Clones, and so the writers don't seem to think much about their condition a lot of the time.

Hence why I feel like when characters don't behave like they ought to regarding the Clones, it's often not so much that the narrative is telling us there's an issue, and more like the writers couldn't be bothered to explore that particular theme. I'm not just saying that in relation to the Jedi: Suu Lawquane marrying a 12 year old (who is supposed to look 24 but really look 50 because of the animation) is not framed as insanely wrong on all levels, for example. Also, we don't ever see Bail and Padmé speaking up for Clone rights. Realistically, given what we know of their personalities, would they have? Probably, yes! Their silence very likely has nothing to do with a moral failure that the audience is supposed to recognize, and everything to do with nobody irl thinking that would be a good storyline.

As for the Jedi's relationship with the Clones, what I always got from it is this: the Jedi were drafted along with the Clones, couldn't do a lot about the whole situation, befriended them just so Order 66 could be extra heartbreaking, and we weren't meant to dig too deep and find loopholes or what-could-have-beens or alternate ways it could have gone down, because Order 66 was pretty much written in stone. The Jedi were always going to die, as far back as ANH, before there were even Clones in the Clone Wars - and they were going to be friends with the Clones before the Clones were even fully people (think about all the nice interactions between Obi-Wan and Oddball or Obi-Wan and Cody in RotS, back when the Clones obeying Order 66 was that they really had very little will of their own). The more and more messed-up implications of the slave army came along the more the Clones got humanized for the sake of angst, but the beats of the store were already there.

I already went a bit into this tension between what we see onscreen and the issues the writers didn't feel like exploring here (on a post about Obi-Wan's behavior on the Citadel).

Now, forgetting all the irl stuff, are the Jedi actually slavers? I'd argue that they aren't. The Senate voted to have an army - it's a big plot point in AotC. The Sith paid the Kaminoans and fabricated the war. Jango sold his DNA. The Senate drafted the Jedi. ("A lot of people say, “What good is a lightsaber against a tank?” The Jedi weren’t meant to fight wars. That’s the big issue in the prequels. They got drafted into service, which is exactly what Palpatine wanted." - George Lucas)

That particular dead horse has already been beaten, but what were the Jedi supposed to do beside fight side by side with the Clones? Not fight? So Sidious could declare them traitors to the Republic ahead of schedule? Fight and petition for Clone rights (which, again, is an issue never touched upon in canon one way or another after Slick - whom I'll get to later - so we simply can't say that they never tried)? Like Sidious was ever going to let legislation hindering his plans pass? They were caught between a rock and a hard place, which was always the point of the war. Damned if you do and damned if you don't.

What's more, the majority of the Clones don't think the Jedi are slavers (see first posts linked and posts linked below), with the notable exception of Slick. The majority of the Clones we see love the Jedi, and we know it's not a case of blind hero-worship, because they are very quickly suspicious of Krell and don't hesitate to take him down.

I feel like Slick was a bit of a red herring, because he came along very, very early (s1ep16) - way before we had any indication of that the chips would be a thing. He feels a lot like a reminder that 'hey, this story is going to end badly' because the Clones will turn on the Jedi and kill them all rather than an actual exploration of the messed up slave army deal - because Slick is unequivocally characterized as a villain. He killed a lot of his own brothers, didn't deny that Ventress had offered him money, tried to frame a member of his own squad for his actions, and was perfectly ready to kill Rex and Cody for all his talk of loving his brothers. The post I linked goes into a bit more, but he's not a desperate innocent.

Finally, there's the problem that the majority of the Clones we see want to fight for the Republic. The cadets from Boba's Death Trap episode (s2ep20) are excited to meet Jedi and get to fight. 99 wants nothing more than to be a good soldier. The Domino Squad want to pass, and their episodes present them going off to the front like a victory - even when we already know they're marching to their death. Choosing to fight is Rex's whole arc in the Deserter episode (s2ep10):

CUT: Come on, Rex, admit it. You've thought about what your life could look like if you were to also leave the army, choose the life you want. REX: What if I am choosing the life I want? What if I'm staying in the army because it's meaningful to me? CUT: And how is it meaningful? REX: Because I'm part of the most pivotal moment in the history of the Republic. If we fail, then our children and their children could be forced to live under an evil I can't well imagine. CUT: If you were to have children, of course. But that would be against the rules, wouldn't it? Isn't that what somebody programmed you to believe, Captain? REX: No, Cut, it's simply what I believe. It doesn't matter if it's my children or other people's children. Does that meet with your approval?

Yes, it's incredibly karked from our perspective - you have millions of boys who were spoon fed propaganda about a Republic that doesn't care about them and that they barely know, and in the end their sacrifices amounted to very little... But - and I'm genuinely asking here - wouldn't denying them the right to find their identity in their role as protectors be demeaning too? Obviously they deserve so, so much better, but TCW still treats their choice to fight proudly as meaningful. And in the end, it wasn't entirely for nothing either: the Jedi and the Clones did save billions of people according to Hera.

What we were supposed to take away from the Jedi-Clones interactions in the Prequels imo isn't 'the Jedi were nice slavers' but really that they were the Clones' best and only friends.

Mace spends a lot of his screentime protecting them. We see most of the Council protecting or saving Clones at least once each. Really, the Jedi are constantly shown saving the Clones or caring about them: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Again, @trickytricky1 has some of the best content: this compilation vid is particularly great. I'm pretty sure Sidious gave the Jedi the Clone army (and not the droid army) because he counted on the Jedi's compassion towards the Clones and their eventual trust in them to work in his advantage (see this thread) - and heartbreakingly enough, he was right.

Imo, TCW and later Rebels - and even, to a lesser extent, RotS - always portrayed the Jedi and the Clones as close friends and the karked up circumstances don't change that. They don't have a 'nice slavers & their slaves' dynamic, they are friends.

There's a reason why the first TCW episode was about Yoda telling three Clones how unique and important they all are (see here or here). There's a reason why we see the Clones being so protective of their Generals (see Boil and Obi-Wan here). There's a reason why Obi-Wan so passionately condemned Grievous for having an army with no loyalty and no spirit (here). There's a reason we got this:

They were best friends. The entirety of Star Wars failing to address enough just how terribly the Republic treated the Clones doesn't take away from that.

That makes the whole Jedi-Clone story a whole other level of tragic, where the Jedi genuinely tried to know and care for their men because there really wasn't anything else to do, and the Clones were grateful for that, and in the end both the Order and the Clones were used and destroyed. No matter how badly some themes and plotlines might have been handled, I genuinely can't ever believe that we were meant to see the Jedi as slavers in this situation, as opposed to victims - albeit in a different way than the Clones - who were doing their best.

[antoine-roquentin]

“The federal budget assumes the government will recover 96 cents of every dollar borrowers default on,” Mitchell wrote. This banker, Jeff Courtney, put that figure closer to just 51 to 63 cents.

Now, for a private lender, like a bank, this projected shortfall would indeed be a ticking time bomb. The bank might be in danger of insolvency (unless, of course, it was rescued by a federal government that could give the bank an emergency cash infusion and take those bad loans off its hands). But there’s no real danger of a federal Cabinet-level department becoming insolvent. The Treasury Department is already in the habit of making up the Education Department’s budgetary shortfalls.

So what is the problem again? Typically for a news outlet like the Journal, the story describes this potential shortfall as what “taxpayers” would be “on the hook for,” but obviously, we all know that that is not how federal budgeting works. Taxes could rise for certain people for certain reasons, but no one will receive an itemized bill for this uncollected debt. And as for that large, catastrophic number ($500 billion!) that might never be paid back, it amounts to less than one year of a national defense budget that “taxpayers” are similarly “on the hook for.” (The Journal’s editorial board recently complained that the Biden administration’s proposed 2022 $715 billion Pentagon budget, while an increase in real terms, nonetheless represents an unconscionable decline in the defense budget as share of gross domestic product. “Taxpayers” are not mentioned in the editorial.)

Democrats helped sacrifice a generation of students to the deficit god, in exchange for meaningless numbers in a report.

The story, then, is that the government might not collect some debt, even if it currently pretends, for budgetary reasons, that it definitely will, and, as a result, the deficit may rise to levels higher than the current estimates predict. For a committed conservative, such as DeVos, that situation is inherently scandalous. For everyone else, that could only ever become a problem in the future, and only if that future deficit has some negative effect on the overall economy, which is not very likely considering the entire recent history of federal deficits and economic growth.

That state of affairs may explain why articles like the one in the Journal so often invoke “taxpayers,” as if everyone would have to write personal checks to cover the Department of Education’s shortfall: because without imagining taxpayers as victims of government deficits, it’s hard to point to anyone actually harmed by a government department giving unrealistic estimates of future revenues.

Except in this story, there are actual victims: the people who hold debt that the government doesn’t realistically expect to collect in full but who are bled for payment regardless. As Courtney’s report found, because of the importance of these loans to the department’s balance sheet, the government keeps borrowers on the hook for the loans even if they will never be able to repay all of the money they owe, often by placing borrowers on a repayment plan tied to their income. (As the economist Marshall Steinbaum has explained, the “income driven repayment,” or IDR, program is framed as a means of helping borrowers, but in reality, it “exerts a significant drag on their financial health, to no apparent purpose” by forcing them to “make less-than-adequate payments for many years before their debt is finally cancelled.”) The victim of such a scheme isn’t taxpayers, it’s debtors.

There’s one particular portion of The Wall Street Journal’s story that the public should treat as a moral and political scandal (the emphasis here is mine):

One instance of how accounting drove policy came in 2005 with Grad Plus, a program that removed limits on how much graduate students could borrow. It was included in a sweeping law designed to reduce the federal budget deficit, which had become a concern in both parties as the nation spent on wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and as baby-boomer retirement was set to raise Social Security and healthcare outlays.

A key motive for letting graduate students borrow unlimited amounts was to use the projected profits from such lending to reduce federal deficits, said two congressional aides who helped draft the legislation.

Each change was publicly justified as a way to help families pay for college or to save the taxpayer money, said Robert Shireman, who helped draft some of the laws in the 1990s as an aide to Sen. Paul Simon (D., Ill.) and later was deputy under secretary of education in the Obama administration.

But how agencies such as the Congressional Budget Office “score” such changes—determine their deficit impact—“is a key factor in deciding whether a policy is adopted or not,” Mr. Shireman said. “The fact that it saved money helps enact it.”

To explain this more plainly, Democrats helped sacrifice a generation of students to the deficit god, in exchange for meaningless numbers in a report, because CBO scores are more real to senators than flesh-and-blood people.

This is the sort of depravity that deficit obsessions produce. The Iraq War needed to be “paid for” with the future earnings of students who, lawmakers imagined, would eventually be rich, even as many of the same lawmakers voted to cut taxes on already-rich people. Now the debt of the still-not-rich students can’t be forgiven because of its importance to the federal government’s predicted future earnings. And politicians and commentators in thrall to deficit politics still paint the situation as a morality tale, in which the borrowers are irresponsible for having the debt and the government would be irresponsible to forgive it. After all, think of the poor taxpayers.

The early days of the Biden administration led some to believe we were finally free of this incoherent political mode, where dubious predictions in CBO reports dictate the limits of the politically possible and determine who will be arbitrarily punished for the sake of limiting the size of a program in a speculative 10-year budget projection. The proof that Democrats had learned their lesson was one major piece of legislation, the American Rescue Plan, designed to respond to a unique emergency.

More recently, the administration, and some of its allies in Congress, have signaled strongly that they’re returning to the old ways. The American Prospect’s David Dayen has reported that the White House is determined to “pay for” its infrastructure plans, and Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen is apparently leading the charge to ensure the infrastructure spending is “offset.” This will have the likely effect of limiting the scope of the plan, once again sacrificing material benefits for the sake of estimates and predictions from the CBO.

The Biden administration seems to be determined to go about this without violating its pledge not to raise taxes on any American making less than $400,000 (a threshold meant to define the upper limit of “middle class” despite being comically higher than the Obama administration’s similar $250,000 limit for tax hikes). It has floated increasing IRS enforcement and raising the capital gains tax for the wealthiest Americans. Both are fine ideas. But the best thing about taxing the rich is not that you can use their money for infrastructure, it’s that doing so reduces their political and economic power. That’s also the reason why it’s so difficult for Washington to do it.

The complete incoherence of the current Democratic position on spending and deficits is summed up well in another Wall Street Journal story, where Montana Senator Jon Tester was quoted saying, “I don’t want to raise any taxes, but I don’t want to put stuff on the debt, either.… If we’re going to build infrastructure, we have to pay for it somehow. I’m open to all ideas.”

“Open” to “all ideas” but unwilling to tax the rich, and unwilling to allow a CBO report to show a larger deficit as a result of needed spending: This is more or less precisely the dynamic that led student loan debt to explode in the United States, and it’s the zombie worldview that threatens any chance of this government averting a multitude of political, economic, and ecological disasters.

[fancyfade]

Okay, a lonely place of dying thoughts. This will be long

So, I just finished re-reading a lonely place of dying. before I get to far into it: This is specifically to analyze the way the character and information is presented to the reader. It’s not to say “so and so is a bad character” or “this is a bad plotline”.

Starting off: they were definitely playing it super safe for the comic reader when they introduced Tim. It feels as if he is introduced literally as an audience avatar. For a large portion of the time before we meet him, we literally are seeing through his eyes -- the panel is positioned so that we would be at his head height, looking at whatever he’s looking at. we never see him except for his hands (so the audience can presumably imagine themselves in his shoes).

this isn’t the way they usually frame unknown characters or characters whose identity is obscured to create an air of mystery -- and there’s an excellent comparison in this same plotline, because there is a character with their identity obscured, who was framed a different way

[image: first two panels are of two face, who is wearing a trench coat and a fedora that casts a shadodw and obscures his face so we cannot tell who he is. His face is completely in shadow. he is talking to someone behind him. he says "Tomorrow. The zwei brothers warehouse. Two am. Now go back to your wife. the fat lady's about to sing." in the next panel, we see him from behind. the back of his head is entirely in shadow to avoid giving us any hints as to who he is. the man he's talking to, Gerry sky, says "whatever it is -- later." two face says "now. 'payroll activation'" and gerry says "okay, okay -- now."

next there's a panel with the dialogue whited out. We still see two face, wearing gloves and having nearly all of his skin (except for his face, which is always in shadow) covered. First we look at him from above and he is small against a dark room with a bookshelf in the background. Then there's a closeup of only his gloved hand as he turns off the radio. We see him from behind (thighs up) as he stands in front of a window, then another shot of his gloved hand trying to touch the radio. and both his hands clench in fists. He hits the radio, breaking it (his body is still off screen except for his arm and hand) and then at his feet we see the broken radio. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of two face on panel

Notice: The presumed “camera angle” is dynamic around Two face. We see him from multiple angles -- from both in front and behind. When we are looking at the same thing he's looking at, we are positioned behind him, like we're looking over his shoulder. the close ups on his hand are not positioned as if he's looking at his own hand and we are in his head pay special attention to the panel he's adjusting the radio on and the fourth panel of the page -- we're looking from the side of him or from behind him and under his elbow there.

Two face is our mysterious bad guy. This is how they visually frame a character they want an air of mystery around.

compare that to the framing around tim

[image: first, we are looking through a camera that is continuously taking pictures of Batman as he stumbles down a slide, walks shakily to his batmobile, and takes off. then the camera is lowered (we see the hand that is lowering the camera in the view, it is below us as if we were looking through this person's eyes) and put inside a duffle bag. after that, we see something in the conrer of the screen -- an arm wearing a jacket?) and puddles of blood, then a bike tire -- but not the rest of the bike, which is off panel -- cutting through the puddles of blood. next pages shows a bunch of internal monologue that has been blockedo ut. a series of batman and robin pictures from the newspapers and a picture of batman swinging on a line in a scrap book. (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. we can see the hand grabbing this picture as if we were holding it.

then we appear to be behind whoever is on the page, looking at his elbow, as he opens up a drawer, then we're back "inside" his head again as he holds up a photo with the graysons (john, dick, mary) and the drakes (tim and his parents). 3 year old tim is sitting on 12 year old dick's leg. end image]

end image/begin commentary - Framing of  Tim in Panel

okay sorry forgive me but this is fucking fascinating in my opinion. Notice that for two face, most of the close ups on his hands were specifically away from his point of view -- we weren’t positioned where his eyes were, but looking from the outside in.

For tim, we’re almost always looking through his eyes, contrasting to two face

and for tim, even when we were not looking through his eyes, in the very first page, he wasn’t even on panel -- we knew nothing about him, we just saw the edge of his bike. the second page we saw a bit of his arm but we never zoom out far enough to see his whole body and definitely not his face -- even if it would be obscured by shadow.

The first read through, I assumed they were going for an air of mystery, but the contrast between how they handle two face and tim to me makes it clear that they weren’t -- it might have been an unintended side effect, or a bonus effect, but it wasn’t the main purpose. The audience is literally viewing most of the panels Tim is in through Tim’s eyes. He is almost literally an audience avatar.

My general hypothesis here (which I think I am supplying proof of) is that Tim is intended to be an avatar in universe for the “average comic reader" (with some assumptions made by the writer about the average comic reader re: race, age,  gender, socioeconomic class)

For more support of this, let’s see how Tim talks about batman and robin --

[image: 3 comic panels from batman 440 featuring newspaper clippings (in the first panel, batman and robin looking victorious in pictures, the second panel some headlines: “batman attacks mom” and “batman on the rampage” and “batman collars dope ring”. the third a picture of reporters interviewing gordon captioned with “batman batters bandits”. there is internal monologue from (the framing of the scene implies tim drake, but at this point he is unknown to the audience) reading “He seemed happier with dick. Now, I guess it’s like he just doesn’t care. But I want him to care again. I want him to be the batman I remember.” then, we have panels from the new titans 61 dick, as nightwing, is reaching in to talk to tim. he grabs tim's arm. dick says, “I don't believe this. that man raised me. I've gone through hell with him and because of him. Don't lecture me about him until you've cared for him and loved him as long as I have”. dick puts his helmet on and drives off on his bike. before leaving, he says "when jason died, he took robin with him." Tim cries and calls after him: "I... I was only thinking of the team... of what Batman and Robin meant! You can't let a legend die like that, Dick..." end image]

end image/begin comment - Tim’s perception of Batman & Robin

Notice in the first panels (with the newspaper clippings) that Tim is reminiscent, he specifically talks about ‘teh batman and robin’ that he remembers. The narrative puts more significance for tim on the fact that batman is not happy and he is not the batman tim remembers, rather than the fact that batman is beating people nearly to death (tim notices this, and it seems to be a “because batman is so clearly sad” thing -- which this is not I believe intended to be a commentary on tim’s priorities, since the general narrative seems to be using bruce’s ultra-violence as a sign he’s angsty).

Then, compare dick’s reaction to bruce with Tim’s.

Dick’s connection to Bruce is extremely personal. Bruce, Batman, whatever, is his dad and raised him and, like he said, put him through hell sometimes. His connection to Jason’s death is similarly personal.

Tim’s connection to Batman and Robin is extremely abstract and idealized. He is thinking of them as, say, a comics reader might think of them. As a crimefighting team who are not together anymore, and this is bad.

this is just bulletpoint 2 in “tim is supposed to represent the audience”, not intending to be a condemnation of tim.

Thirdly

[image: first, a comic panel from Batman 440 showing a close up of Tim’s hand as he reads a paper and him thinking ‘No! the haly circus is closing?’ then, a series of comic panels from the new titans # 60. first, we see mr haly (off screen) and his cigar (on screen) as haly gestures at a photo of the flying grayson's on the wall. then he says "Yeah. Cost us a fortune and brought down our selling price. You know, sometimes I sit here and just remember the good old days. We were barely breaking even back then, too -- but man, were we having fun. then, we see dick grayson wearing jeans and a red shirt, walking through the circus ground. first, he looks kind of dejected and his hands are in his pockets. the narration box reads "he leaves, trying to reconcile the past and the present. Kids grow up and change. but why should everything do the same? The animal cages stink with waste. Was it always this way? At times like now, he wishes for never-never land." then, dick turns as he hears something and says "Hunh? That scream?" end image]

end image/begin comment - Nostalgia as a Theme

Nostalgia is an EXTREMELY strong theme in this comic. Batman is different, he’s not like he used to be. Haley’s circus is different and at risk, but Dick goes back and meets the performers he used to know -- some are still the same, some are in a more rough situation (alcoholic clown). Someone’s trying to kill his friends in the circus, it’s not really a place of childhood innocence for Dick.  Dick explicitly wishes to be in never-never land (the imaginary far off place where you never grow up)

How things should be -- both in Tim’s mind and Dick’s mind, Haly’s mind  -- is the idealistic past, but we clearly can’t go back to it -- Dick says that the first thing Bruce taught him was how to grow up.

Next bulletpoint:

[image: first are some comic panels showing Tim Drake talking to Dick Grayson and Alfred Pennyworth in wayne manor. Tim says “You know, since I was able to read, I clipped every article I could about Batman and Robin. Heck, I used to fantasize about what it would be like to be robin. I study hard. I get mostly A’s. I work out. I’m no circus acrobat, but I’m pretty good, I guess. But mostly, I read aobut you two. You’ve both been so important to me in so many ways. And when I see that without Robin Batman is going off hte deep end, I know there’s serious trouble.” next, we see Dick stepping forward and talking to Tim. he says "But you haven't told me anything I don't already know. I want the rest of it. All of it." end image]

end image/ begin commentary - textually a fanboy

Textually, Tim is presented as a Batman and Robin fanboy -- that’s how he found Batman’s secret identity (link)

He studies Batman and Robin from afar. He reads about them. Kind of like a comics reader would. he wants to be Robin. Again, superhero comics have some wish fulfillment element and definitely wanting to imagine yourself in a character’s shoes is an appeal for many fans. Tim wanted to imagine himself in robin’s shoes and fantasized about being him -- there’s kind of two layers here, one is the presumed audience member reading tim, wanting to imagine themselves in his shoes as he interacts with his heroes, the other is tim, who wanted to imagine himself in dick’s shoes.

re: the second posted image in this set: Tim hasn’t told dick anything that dick doesn’t know, because tim doesn’t know anything dick doesn’t know -- he is the comic reader here. That’s also why he’s so up-to-date on all of the other comic character’s stuff -- we see him list off all of the teen titans, he talks about jason’s death casually, he knows that alfred is batman’s confident -- he pretty much has all of the information that a reader of DC comics would have if they just got beamed into the DC universe at this point.

[image: first, two panels, one showing tim smiling and thinking "Wow! And I thought Harry did it. Man, Dick is good". tehn we see dick holding some photos and talking ot tim, who is at his bike. dick says "These pictures, two face is back in town, isn't he?" Tim says "You can tell, just from them? Wow! You're even better than I thought." the next scene is in the batcave. Dick is nightwing and is about to leave on his motor cycle, alfred and tim are behind him. tim says "no, not nightwing, Dick. don't you understand -- Batman needs Robin!" he turns to look at alfred and says "Doesn't anyone understand?" Alfred says "Perhaps, young man. Perhaps master Dick understands profoundly -- perhaps that is why he brought you here." tim looks surprised. end image]

end image/begin commentary: The old robin’s approval

another very important thing here: DC plays it as safe as possible with tim’s introduction, trying to make the audience like him, and one is definitely establishing that Tim both looks up to dick and thinks he’s cool (first two panels) and that he has dick’s presumed approval/blessing to be robin (last three panels). it’s also important to note that while tim is portrayed as competent, he never shows up Batman and Nightwing -- he rescues them because two-face lured them into an expert trap, but he doesn’t outdo either of them on fighting or detective work. this has an in universe explanation -- he is 13 years old, just starting out -- and an out of universe explanation -- if he’s not showing up anyone’s favorite character, he is presumably more palatable and less threatening for the presumed reader.

that’s what i mean when I say taht DC played their intro of tim very safe -- he falls in with the established characters, already likes them, is practically already a fan of them with full fanboy connotations. The idealized past is presented as something as desirable, both to the reader and to the characters themselves, and there is a strong current of nostalgia and returning things to how they “should” be with Batman having a robin. Tim voices what many readers may feel: That batman lost his way, that he needs Robin, and he gets to act out those feelings in the comic. the text acknowledges that they can’t just force dick back into it, that people have to grow up, and dick passes the mantle to tim.

overall I think that tim’s employment here was effective, but I look forward to seeing more when he’s allowed to be himself rather than an audience avatar. I understand lots of people like audience avatars and he was wildly popular presumably for those reasons, but I personally found the plotline lackluster at points.

[kingwuko]

Wuko in the comics

Welcome to my first post discussing Wuko in the LoK comic books!

This first post will be discussing Turf Wars- which unfortunately does not feature Wu. But there are lots of excellent Mako moments, and there are some major plot points that carry over into the next comic trilogy.

Turf Wars is the first LoK comic trilogy released after the finale. Though it was released two and half years after the finale aired, it picks up right where we left off. While the creators confirmed after the finale aired that Korrasami was canon, the last moments of the animated series were a little ambiguous (on purpose, since this was a time when queer representation was just not considered "acceptable" in children's media-it was truly the only way they could get away with it). The comics definitively remove all ambiguity. Turf Wars features multiple frames of Korra and Asami kissing, holding hands, and coming out to their friends and family. 

The overarching plot of Turf Wars is a conflict over the land upon which the new spirit portal sets. There is also conflict between rival Triad gangs, the Triple Threats and the Creeping Crystals, over turf in Republic City following the chaos of Kuvira's invasion. These two sets of turf wars overlap when a business tycoon hires the Triple Threats to secure the spirit portal for him by driving others off. The new Leader of the Triple Threats, Tokuga, is attacked by a spirit defending the portal, causing him to gain a dragon-like appearance and a new agenda-seizing control of all Republic City. In the midst of all this there is a refugee crisis, a presidential election, and Korra and Asami trying to navigate their new relationship once they return to the real world with all their responsibilities.

Notable plot points and character developments:

Korra and Asami canon is confirmed (repeatedly)-They come out to family and their friends

Business owner Wonyong Keum, who owns the land upon which the new portal sits, demands everyone vacate so he can turn it into a tourist attraction for profit-prompting Korra to enter the Avatar state to temporarily drive him away.

An unhappy spirit requests Korra closes the portal to prevent exploitation of the spirit world.

Bolin joins Mako as his rookie detective partner.

Zhu Li is running efforts to care for refugees who lost their homes during Kuvira’s attack and teams up with Asami to begin rebuilding homes for everyone displaced.

Tokuga is introduced as the leader of the Triple Threats, fighting for control of the streets with Jargala, the leader of the Creeping Crystals.

Kya reveals she is queer and gives us a history lesson on the context of LGBTQ+ history in the world.

Tokuga is attacked by the afore-mentioned spirit and his right arm and half his face become dragon-esque.

Raiko is a colossal idiot. He is way too focused on getting reelected and making his decisions based on what his campaign advisor suggests, rather than just, you know, governing his city. He calls the military to occupy the portal, prompting the Airbenders to peacefully protest.

Zhu Li runs against Raiko for the presidency. She rallies more protesters to protect the spirit portal while her husband films her for his newest project- a “docu-mover” which he presumably uses to influence the election. 

Asami and Keum are kidnapped by Tokuga and forced to make a poison gas device bring the city under Tokuga’s control.

The Krew manages to save the day of course, thanks to Asami’s wit, Korra’s unstoppable stubbornness, and back-up from Bolin and Mako. Except Mako, bless him, says he’ll “take care of Tokuga”, and then promptly loses him.

Tokuga mysteriously disappears into the spirit world.

Zhu Li wins the presidency.

Korra and Asami share a lovely, romantic moment where they exchange their first “I love you”s at the conclusion of the comic.

Mako scenes

There is no Wu in the Turf Wars comics (Unless you count one line of dialogue where it is mentioned that the Earth Kingdom is sending supplies to help the refugee situation) - however, there is plenty of Mako! Mako’s primary role in this series is as a detective trying to find and stop the Triads from waging their turf war in the city.

Our first scenes with Mako shows him back to being a detective- and his brother is his partner. He doesn’t seem super thrilled to be working with Bolin, but I think it’s just because he knows how his brother is- not that he doesn’t want to spend time with him. They are trying to track down the new leader of the triple threats and control gang activity. Mako’s arm is still in a sling, he’s got his usual brooding grumpy facial expression, and his hair is spiky again! He and Bolin arrest two-toed Ping and try to interrogate him. Two-toed Ping is weirdly proud of Mako and Bolin for rising up from being “nobodies” to a couple of “bigtime cops”.

They catch up with Korra and Asami, and the four of them are alerted by Jinora that the Triple threats are attacking the Airbenders that were meditating at the portal. Asami gets hurt in the battle and she and Korra share a kiss in front of everyone:

Look at Opal’s sweet face. She looks like she’s barely containing her excitement and is maybe squealing a bit, and she’s looking directly at Bolin which I think is a sweet moment to show their relationship. Bolin calls dibs on the first double date.

Mako probably needs time to process the information....

Mako and Bolin do some detective work to try and find Tokuga. There is an interesting scene where they are questioning Scoochy (We saw him in the first season, he’s the kid that told Korra and Mako the Bolin went to do some work for the triple threats before getting captured by equalists) Bolin tells Mako they should do “good cop, bad cop”, with Bolin being the good cop. Mako gets annoyed, and Bolin asks if he’s grumpy because his exes are dating. Mako insists he’s cool with it- though he’s got a distressed look on his face. They catch up to Scoochy and Bolin actually loses his temper and is rather menacing. Mako pulls Bolin back and genuinely connects with Scoochy- relating to his past, pushing him to do the right thing and help others. I really liked this moment because it shows how much character growth he’s had when you compare the way he treated Kai in season 3. (They are ultimately unsuccessful and Scoochy’s tip leads them to a room rigged with explosives- but I don’t think Scoochy knew that, I think he was fed false info).

There’s another touching scene, after Asami is kidnapped, where Mako notices how upset Korra seems as everyone is trying to form a plan to stop Tokuga. He steps aside to check in and see how she’s feeling. He comforts her’ empathizes with her, and reassures her that they are going to find Asami. At this point he seems to have fully processed that they are together and seems to fully accept it and is very supportive. Not easy considering the awkward position he’s in as both their exes. In this scene, Mako also informs Korra that he can’t firebend with his injured arm.

Mako and Bolin helps Korra to find Asami by requesting help from Jargala- in spite of the fact that Chief Beifong told them not to… They show up for Korra and Asami even if it means risking their jobs. They team up and fight the bad guys together, just like the old days.

We see many examples of how bad the damage is from Mako’s injury in the Colossus. He can’t bend with his left arm, it’s in a sling almost the whole comic, and he really doesn’t seem to be at the top of his game. He told Bolin he would take care of catching Tokuga, but apparently couldn’t and lost him. Mako’s injury is pretty bad and it’s probably really frustrating.

At the end, Bolin decides to quit the force (surprise. The guy loves to hop from calling to calling!). He makes a big dramatic speech to Mako, talking about how it’s time they go their separate ways. Mako is like “Um I’m going to see you at home in like two hours”, so it sounds like they are living together.

What all this might mean for Wuko

So now I’m going to try to tie things back into how all this affects the potential of Wuko- whether that’s for headcanons or fics or whatever- and just try to give you an idea of what this comic means for Wuko shippers.

Wu is governing in the Earth Kingdom right now. It is mentioned by Zhu Li that the Earth Kingdom sent supplies, so one can assume Wu has taken his place on the throne and the Earth Kingdom is in a stable enough position to be sending supplies to aid another nation. Nothing is mentioned about efforts to transform the Earth Kingdom into a democratic nation (we’ll get to that in the Ruins of the Empire comics).

Mako’s primary relationships that are explored are with his brother and with Korra. His relationship with Bolin is just as it always is. He loves his brother even if he is a little exhausted by his upbeat, enthusiastic attitude. We build up on his final interaction with Korra from the animated series and continue to firmly establish them as friends and amicable exes. Interestingly, we don’t get any meaningful Mako and Asami interactions. When he is comforting Korra, he relates to her by remembering how worried he was when Korra was kidnapped by Amon. He doesn't try to say “Yeah I’m really worried about Asami too”, which, to me is bizarre because he and Asami are friends too, right? I don’t know if we should read too much into it though- most likely it was just a writing choice that we aren’t meant to psycho-analyze- but it could also mean he is being careful with his words so that Korra doesn’t wonder if he still has feelings for Asami. The love triangle is completely resolved and Mako is out of the picture romantically with either of them and has no lingering romantic feelings. In other words, he is 100% ready available for a relationship with someone else.

The scene where Kya gives us a history lesson establishes how LGBTQ+ people are viewed in the world of LoK. In short, Korra and Asami are fully supported by their friends and family, and even their enemies acknowledge their relationship without any homophobic tones. The closest we get to homophobia is Korra's father, who, after expressing his happiness at their relationship, warns Korra to be cautious going forward because not everyone will be as understanding. Kya gives us a quick lesson on how same-gender relationships are viewed across the nations: The water tribe, being a patriarchal culture, expects discretion. The Earth Kingdom is not particularly accepting-Kya says that Avatar Kyoshi was bisexual but couldn't affect "real change" and that the earth kingdom is the slowest to accept change and is also militarily repressive (full disclosure I have not read the Kyoshi comics, maybe there is additional insight in those?). And in the fire nation, Sozin made same-gender relationships illegal when he took power (I hope Zuko undid all that when he became Firelord). The air nation is the only one that seems truly accepting-Kya paints a picture of total acceptance and says that Aang was supportive when she herself came out. Korra is worried that maybe her father was right, but Asami points out that a lot has changed over the years and everyone seems accepting, especially in Republic City. 

I think what we can take away from this as far as Wuko goes- is that in Republic City, same-gender relationships are not much of an issue, while in the Earth Kingdom it could be viewed negatively. One could make a case that Wu might have cause to be closeted, while Mako might not. (Feel free to reject this history canon and substitute your own. I’d just as soon say that no one in the avatar-verse cares if you aren’t cis or het).

In conclusion. Mako is just a guy trying very hard to be a good, supportive friend to his exes who are now dating each other. He loves them (platonically) he loves his brother, he’s kind and has matured a lot, but he still always has a grumpy look on his face so it’s time for him to move on and get together with Wu.

Well, that’s Turf Wars. I did cram the plot of three comic books into one post, so I certainly did not hit all the details. If you feel I missed something crucial, feel free to reblog with your own takes. Next I’ll discuss Ruins of the Empire, in which we get lots of Wu and potential Wuko moments, a sizable helping of angst and even some Wu & Korra friendship! RotE is a really fun comic trilogy and I’ll be breaking it down into multiple posts. Thanks for reading everyone!

Wuko In RotE part 1

Wuko in RotE part 2

[peterparker-pickedapepper]

Always You

(Peter Parker/Spider-Man x Stark!Reader)

Chapter 01

A/N: this is set during Homecoming (and eventually FFH) in a universe where Tony isn’t ☠️ bc we don’t acknowledge that trauma here 🙂 also, there are elements from the comics and the older movies, but it’s still in the MCU

———————————————————————

I never meant to find it.

And I wasn’t being nosy either. It was my dads fault, really. Okay so yes, I wasn’t supposed to be in his workshop. But is it my fault he just leaves important things lying around? Mom’s told him to keep it tidy enough times you think it’d be engrained in his brain.

Anyway, the how isn’t important. Not even the why matters. It’s everything that came after.

It was the day my world began falling apart.

The moment I lost all trust—all respect—for the two men closest to my heart.

Now that I know their secret, I don’t see how I’ll be able to look them in the eye. But I’m going to do it. I’m going to keep my head up, act as normal as possible...

And see how long it takes for them to tell me themselves.

———————————————————————

                      Three Months Earlier

“I’m here on the corner of fifth and main, just a street away from the reported sighting of a flying man causing panic among the locals.”

Y/N adjusted her fingers around the smooth base of the microphone, her skin slipping against the hard plastic. It wasn’t nerves causing the dampness on her palms, but excitement. Her eyes flickered from the camera lens pointed in her direction to her best friend standing behind it before easily finding their mark again.

“The large, mechanically winged man has been wrecking havoc in New York’s beloved neighborhood of Queens for the last—”

The ground suddenly shifted beneath her feet with a loud boom, jolting her forward and stopping her report mid-sentence. She twirled around, eyes instantly landing on the sandwich shop across the street.

Or, rather, on the man looming ominously from its roof.

She could only assume it was a man. She’d never seen his face—or any part of his body for that matter—not that his skintight suit left anything to the imagination. But the media affectionately called him “Spider-Man”, so they pretty much filled in the blanks on that one.

She watched as he seemingly surveyed the area. It was always so hard to tell what was going on behind that mask, but every time she saw him she liked to imagine a picture perfect heroic expression etched into handsome features.

It made her disdain for the local superstar a little easier to swallow down.

His head swiveled back and forth a few times, fists clenching at his sides, before he shot one of his webs and disappeared on the other side of the building. She immediately turned back toward her camerawoman, lips pulled into an excited grin.

“This is perfect. Come on.” She wasted no time in scooping up some of the equipment laying at her feet, but stopped short when she noticed the apprehensive expression staring back at her.

“I don’t think I’m really in the mood to run toward danger today.” Her best friend’s bored voice didn’t match the concern she knew was brewing just below the surface.

“MJ,” Y/N all but whined. “We need this story.”

“We need to get ready for next week’s debate.” She muttered, mild annoyance seeping through. “We need to be home in twenty minutes so your dad doesn’t kill us. We need—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Y/N huffed, tossing the last of the camera supplies into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned on her heel, pulling her phone from her back pocket as she moved toward the last crash that sounded a few blocks away. She was getting this story, whether she had to go alone or not. Screw her father’s arbitrary curfew. He was in India for the next few days, anyway.

“You’re serious?” MJ’s incredulous voice echoed from behind her. “What about Liz’s party?”

Y/N’s attention only wavered from the small screen in her hands once she was finished temporarily disabling the tracking feature her dad had not so subtly installed before giving it to her. He didn’t need to know she almost immediately figured out it was there, just like she didn’t need to know that he got a notification every time she hacked into the system.

Her eyes found MJ’s, wide with shock and following something in the sky above. Y/N’s head snapped upward, gaze locking on the flying man who was twisting and turning aggressively in an attempt to kick Spider-Man off his right wing.

“Yes. Very serious.” She huffed, pulse jumping with excitement. “If FRIDAY calls just, please, try to be convincing.”

With that, she spun around one last time before jogging toward the action. She knew MJ’s hesitation was coming from a good place. They’d been inseparable since middle school because they were on opposing ends of the same strong-willed base.

Where MJ was methodical and calculated, Y/N was rash and unpredictable. They were both the type to end up involved in sketchy situations, just at varying speeds and levels of grandeur. Y/N had her father to thank for that.

The iconic Tony Stark was not a pretender. He was who he was, loud and proud. He’d never apologized for it before—not even when he should’ve—and he probably never would. Y/N, on the other hand, had been pretending to be something she wasn’t for more than a decade.

He’d given her a choice when she was old enough for kindergarten. They talked about it, mapped out the pros and cons, and she made a decision. Soon after, she entered the outside world as Y/N Smith. It was the best thing her five year old brain could think of. Plus, she didn’t want her place on the alphabetical rosters to change.

She went to public schools—something Tony never missed an opportunity to mention he hated—and started paving her own way. Right now, that meant she was chasing a super-powered fight through the streets of Queens.

Since landing a highly sought after internship at The Daily Bugle, Y/N’s main priority had been impressing her overbearing bosses. That came with varying levels of complexity, depending on the superhero shenanigans of the month.

She rounded a corner into an alleyway, instantly ducking down when a blindingly bright object whizzed by her head. Her arms shot up in a protective motion as she leaned against the cool brick wall at her side. She remained there, frozen in place with a racing heart, for several seconds.

Something thumped to the concrete only a foot away from her crumpled frame, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She peeked through her arms, still crossed over her head, eyes widening as they landed on a pile of red and black fabric.

The lump groaned and slowly unraveled to reveal Queens’ favorite masked hero. He shook his head, the mechanical eyes of his suit twitching as if malfunctioning. Y/N was stuck in her spot, wide eyes hungrily drinking in every detail they could. Despite following his activity for months now, she’d never gotten this close to the mystery man.

His suit was tighter than she thought possible. It hugged his body in a way that left nothing to the imagination. The rippling muscles lining his torso were clearly visible beneath the thick material. She watched as he sat back on his heels and rubbed the side of his head, shoulders tensing as he seemed to finally realize that she was there.

“Whoa, hey.” Came his breathy, surprisingly high-pitched greeting. He cleared his throat before continuing, a steady hand extending her way. “Are you okay, miss?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed in curiosity, not missing the way his demeanor changed the moment he noticed her. It was like a flip switched. He’d turned on his superhero persona, a process she was unfortunately all too familiar with.

“I’m fine.” The words came out more forcefully than she’d intended, but she was all business now, too.

There was no way she was letting him out of her sight without getting some information. She wasn’t even worried about all the ways her bosses would kill her, she’d beat herself up enough for the missed opportunity. She ignored his hand, dusting her jeans off and hobbling to her feet before reaching for her phone to launch the recording app.

“Can I ask you a few questions, Spider-Man?” She jutted the phone out in front of her, and he took a step back as if the device would somehow hurt him.

The eyes on his mask widened, something she didn’t know was possible. “Oh. I...uh—”

Just then, the ground shook with a massive impact that couldn’t have been more than a block away. It would’ve knocked Y/N right off her feet if it weren’t for the gloved hand that shot out to stabilize her.

“Gotta go!”

By the time his hasty goodbye met her ears, he was gone. It took about ten seconds for Y/N to process what just happened before she took off running in the same direction he’d swung in. She was too far in to give up now. At this point, she’d settle for some shaky footage of the fight. It’d be enough to satisfy her editors for a few days.

She ran out in the street, stopping abruptly as a stampede of people swarmed her. Elbows and shoulders rammed into her sides as she tried fighting her way through the panic. 

“Oh, come on people! Chill the fuck out!” She found herself shouting to deaf ears. 

Maybe it was because she grew up immersed in the superhero way of life, or her bordering on unhealthy need to get some kind of story tonight, but either way she was aggravated by the public reaction more than anything.

She was rarely scared anymore, even when faced with imminent danger. Admittedly, she didn’t have a good gauge for when she might be getting herself into trouble. Another thing she blamed her father for. 

Her eyes remained trained on the sky, watching the fight unfold in mid-air. She cringed as Spider-Man nearly fell off the homemade-looking flying suit. He quickly regained his balance, shooting a web into one of the back engines. It immediately started sputtering as the metal clanked and caught in the sticky substance. 

They were going down, and fast. She knew this was probably her last chance to get any kind of discernable footage of the event, so she reached into her back pocket for her phone. It was at this moment that someone decided to shove into her so hard that she lost her footing and tumbled to the ground. 

A rush of air left her lungs as she hit the asphalt, hard. She couldn’t help but wince as pain shot up both of her arms. There would definitely be bruises she’d need to hide later. Thankfully, at least she ended up near the curb so she wasn’t instantly trampled to death by the screaming crowd. 

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and huffed, wiping away the tiny rocks that were now embedded into her palms. She was about to hobble to her feet and call tonight a wash when her eyes landed on a blueish-purple glow coming from a nearby alley.

Maybe she wouldn’t get any useable footage tonight, but a souvenir would lift her spirits and, hopefully, her credibility in the office. Without wasting anymore time, she stumbled to her feet and ducked into the darkness of the cramped space.

She followed the pulsating light, stopping only when her eyes landed on a small, metallic object. It had a thin silver cage protecting what looked like a gem or rock of some kind. Nothing too crazy, aside from the whole glowing thing. Her brows furrowed with curiosity as she crouched down to get a better view. 

She had absolutely no idea what it was, and she’d seen a lot of weird things in her dads workshop. The only thing she could compare it to was some of the alien technology that’d been leftover from the Battle of New York. She’d run a few stories about that herself, plus saw her dad tinkering with some things since Thor took Loki back to Asgard.

Figuring she could show it to him at the very least, she pulled the end of her sleeve over her hand and grabbed it. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder and quickly unzipped it before sliding the object inside. 

Just then, the sound of screeching metal filled her ears at a deafening volume. She managed to close her bag before covering her ears and ducking against the brick alley wall. The crowd still surrounding the area screamed in horror.

She watched with wide eyes as the huge bird-man landed on the rooftop just a few feet away from her crouched form. It was the closest she’d been to the masked—villain? She wasn’t sure—and he was far more intimidating than she’d first assumed.

His glowing beady green eyes didn’t so much as glance in her direction as he slung Spider-Man over the edge of the building, the tip of one of his wings wrapped around his throat.

An involuntary gasp tore through her chest.

It wasn’t that she was worried about the hero. For one, she knew he was more than capable of fending for himself. It wasn’t even that she cared if he got hurt. He was mostly an annoyance to her, his illusive nature making her job way harder than usual.

But if she knew one thing in this moment, it was that the bird-man was the bad guy, and she couldn’t let him win.

So, she did something really stupid.

She found the closest thing that she thought might actually do any kind of damage—which was, unfortunately, an old bike helmet next to the dumpster—and chucked it at the pair.

It hit one of the metal wings with a pathetic clink and all three of them froze.

Y/N held her breath as the man’s head turned in her direction slowly. Way too slowly. Like ‘I’m going to really enjoy killing you’ slowly.

After that, everything happened impossibly fast.

“Hey! Watch out!” 

She barely had time to recognize the panicked voice before she was flying. Her stomach flipped and she couldn’t even scream, overcome with sudden vertigo. She pinched her eyes shut the second she saw the top of a building and clutched onto whatever was carrying her away. 

If it was the weird bird guy, she accepted whatever evil plan he had. But, if it was Spider-Man, she was going to kill him.

It must’ve only been seconds before her feet touched solid ground, but it felt like an eternity to her. The moment she felt the stability beneath her, she began fighting against her captor.

“Let me go! Oh my god. If you don’t put me down right now—”

“What the hell—ow!”

Once she was free, she staggered away from him with a huff. She cleared the hair out of her eyes and bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she attempted to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding wildly and her stomach was still doing summer-salts.

She raised her eyes to send a withering glare toward the masked man. “Never do that shit again.”

He stared at her—at least she assumed—for a long moment before taking a step forward.

“What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt.” He gestured wildly with his hands, clearly agitated.

“That’s one way to thank me for saving your life.” Y/N ground out, sounding way more bitter than she would’ve liked.

“Saving my—” The eyes on his mask narrowed incredulously. “You did not save my life. All you did was distract me and put like ten other people in danger.”

She couldn’t help but scoff. “Please. Spare me the morality speech, Spider-Man. We both know you don’t bother worrying about people like me.”

Y/N was all too familiar with how superheroes think. When they’re in the middle of a fight, all they care about is winning. They usually have a bigger mission to accomplish. One that doesn’t concern itself with the lives left behind.

“People like you are all I worry about, trust me.”

With that harsh declaration, a heavy silence fell between them. Y/N clenched her jaw tightly, biting her tongue to prevent the floodgates from opening. Spider-Man wasn’t the only one who deserved her hostility toward superheroes, he just happened to be the one in front of her now.

Instead of speaking her mind, she turned on her heel and stalked away from him. At this point, it was late. The sun had set and her dad surely knew she wasn’t home when she promised. She had to accept that today just wasn’t her day and head back for some damage control.

Peter, feeling his chest tighten with regret for the way he’d snapped, followed closely behind her quick steps.

“Wait!” She actually stopped, something he wasn’t expecting, so he rammed right into her back. His hands quickly wrapped around her biceps as she spun around. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I, uh...”

He didn’t know what to say. This was the second time in one night he’d run into her, but he was still dumbstruck. The circumstances weren’t ideal. He thought he’d lost her earlier, but then she had to go and put herself in danger.

He took a step away from her, dropping his hands and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. He had to remind himself that she had no idea who he was. Even if he did embarrass himself—like he usually did around her—she wouldn’t know it was him when they saw each other in the halls come Monday.

“At least let me get you home.” He insisted, feeling bad that he’d indirectly kept her out so late.

Y/N pursed her lips, immediately wanting to accept his offer but trying not to give too much away. Truthfully, she was exhausted. She just wanted to get home and deal with the fallout disobeying her curfew would bring so she could get some sleep.

“Alright.” She sighed, pulling anxiously at the straps of her bag. She knew this meant she’d have to swing through the streets again, something she wasn’t nearly ready to do.

Nevertheless, she allowed Spider-Man to walk toward her. She averted her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her back and tried not to let her breath catch when his gloved fingers skimmed the exposed skin of her lower back where her shirt had ridden up.

Warmth enveloped her as his proximity settled in. Under his mask, Peter’s face was burning. This was by far the closest he’d been to his classmate. Or any girl, actually. Not wanting to think about it for a second longer, he shot a web toward a nearby building and followed the directions Y/N yelled out.

Within minutes, they landed on the helipad outside her front door.

Peter felt his stomach drop with realization once he let his eyes wander around the outside of the huge building.

“Oh my god. Is this seriously where you live?” He cleared his throat after squeaking out the question, not necessarily wanting to give away his shock.

“What?” Y/N scoffed teasingly. “Don’t I look like a spoiled rich girl?”

“That’s not—I wasn’t—” He didn’t know what he was trying to say, honestly. There were endless questions flitting through us mind at warp speed.

If she lived here, at the Avengers Tower, did that mean she was one of them? And he just hadn’t met her yet? Or did she work for Mr. Stark? But she was so young. He guessed she could be an assistant or something. Maybe she worked for Pepper? Or Happy? Or, she could—

Y/N rolled her eyes, deciding to spare him the embarrassment of sputtering any more. “My dad is famous...like helped form the Avengers famous.”

Peter’s mind went blank. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Cap?” It was the first name to spill out of his mouth. “Wait, can he even have kids?”

Y/N couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his assumption. “He totally can, but no.”

“Oh.” The gears of his brain started turning again and realization slowly dawned on him. He felt his throat run dry as his eyes widened behind his mask. “Oh.”

Shit. This was way worse. He couldn’t believe he had no idea who she really was. Sure, she used a different last name at school, but he should’ve seen the resemblance sooner.

“Look, I know you two have worked together.” Y/N sighed, thinking back to all those weeks her dad was gone fighting Steve and the rest of his friends for no real reason. “Can you just...not tell him about this?”

Peter’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why wouldn’t she want Mr. Stark knowing that she’d been with him?

Either way, he agreed, since he had a favor to ask of his own. “Only if you won’t.”

She gave him this dumbfounded look, and he knew he had to elaborate.

“He made me this suit before the whole thing with Captain America, so I thought he would keep giving me missions, but now it’s been months and he won’t return my calls. I’m lucky if I get through to Happy. He doesn’t want me getting involved in this stuff, so...”

It struck Y/N then how weird it was to hear a superhero talk about her family so casually. It didn’t seem possible that the two of them were in the same circles. Sure, she’d practically grown up with a few of the world’s most famous heroes, but somehow Spider-Man was different.

He was local. And elusive. A pure mystery to her.

“What exactly is this stuff?” She thought back to the weird glowing object in her bag, having almost forgotten it was there.

“I don’t know.” Peter shook his head, seemingly defeated. “I thought it was just neighborhood stuff, but those guns...I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Alien tech.” Y/N said without hesitation, although she wasn’t actually positive that’s what it was. “My dad has some in his workshop. It was leftover from the Battle of New York.”

“How does it work?” Peter found himself asking excitedly, easily pushing all the other revelations from this conversation to the back of his mind.

“I don’t know.” She admitted, looking away from him as her chest tightened with emotion. “I’ve never gotten close enough to any of it to see. He likes to keep me out of things too...”

It was at that moment, as a breath of silence settled between them, that they realized she was still in his arms. Y/N’s face erupted with heat and she quickly pushed herself away from him. Once her feet were back on the ground, they both stepped backward to create some much needed distance.

“I, ah...better get back...”

“Yeah, yeah. I have to go too...”

They looked at each other for a few long moments. It was at if neither of them truly wanted to separate, but knew they had to. It was clear, though, that they’d just formed some kind of connection.

Y/N felt something strange—and wildly inappropriate—brewing in her chest. A certain kind of attraction toward the masked hero she’d never considered before. It appalled her, honestly. It wasn’t like she hated the guy, but she certainly didn’t like him. And she had no idea who he was. He could be eight years old, for all she knew.

With that realization, she turned on her heel and stalked down the narrow entrance to the Avengers Tower, her face still burning. She heard the thwip of Spider-Man’s webbing and knew he’d be gone if she looked back. So she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the touchpad outside the front door and quickly slipped inside once it recognized her prints. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back against the door, the comfort of home enveloping her.

The peace was short lived, however, as she caught sight of her mother waiting expectantly behind the bar to her left. With a glass of red wine in hand, her knowing gaze shifted from the helipad outside to Y/N’s stiff frame.

She took a slow sip, eyes narrowing over the rim of the glass.

“You’re so grounded.”

———————————————————————

let me know what you think!! should I continue this series??

[yongtxt]

hundred [johnny]

word count: 4.5k words

characters: boxer!johnny x doctor!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: blood/wound/stitches mentions, johnny hates hospitals but he likes the pretty doctor, [im not a doctor nor a boxer pls dont say that i have info wrong because I Know]

author’s note: i know this isnt long to some of u but to me it is and i havent written this much for so long im so proud of myself for finishing this:( it isnt that good but this is the first long fic ive written in a while and shhsdjk also i needed to get this out of my system ive thought about this au since that jcc came out where johnny and hyuck was doing muay thai plssss (i couldnt find a better gif tho) ok this is getting too long / feedback is appreciated tysm

Johnny Suh hated hospitals with a burning passion.

It wasn't from a past trauma nor was he afraid of it, it wasn't that serious. He wasn't exactly sure what the cause of it really was. If he had to make a guess, it was probably from the accumulation of the little things, the insignificant factors people would usually dismiss but bothered him enough that it contributed to the big hatred he built for hospitals.

Maybe it was the distinct smell of hospitals, it reeked of death and old people. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the fluorescent-lit hallways, always gloomy and heavy. Maybe it was also the fact that the fees were so expensive and yet the food they provide tasted horrible, even the coffee was a hit or miss. The only upside he could think of was people get better in hospitals, but even that wasn't assured.

Despite how much Johnny despised hospitals, he always finds himself coming back. If he wanted to get better, he had no choice but to go. He would endure the gruesome process over and over again whether it be to treat his wounds or to stitch his cuts.

With his jaw littered with small bruises and his lips busted at the corner, he sat impatiently on the hospital bed as he waited for his doctor. He was fiddling with his fingers, knuckles bruised the same way his face was. He looked beaten up, he always did.

The clothes he wore contradicted the state he was in, they were fresh and laid back. He looked like a college student from the way he dressed. A delinquent more like, if one considered his cuts and bruises. Before heading to the hospital, he always makes it a point to shower and make himself appear presentable to the public. Although no one really bothers to take notice of his effort, only him.

The sliding door opened and Johnny's attention shot up from his phone, his gaze meeting with yours. Your head popped in, peaking through the small crack you made. Your eyes lit up in recognition as it always did whenever you see him.

"Youngho-ssi?" You spoke almost as if it was a question, voice barely above a whisper to make sure you were in the correct room, about to tend the correct patient.

Johnny didn't understand why you always did that, call out his name as if this was the first time you were seeing him. At that point, you've been already acquainted with him enough due to his numerous trips to the hospital. Either way, he nods every time.

You gave him a small smile, widening the door enough so you could enter. You wore a white lab coat, a name tag pinned to your chest and a stethoscope hung around your neck. You were small, although anyone compared to him was bound to be comparatively smaller – that wasn't the point, you looked young and that never fails to astound him every time you go through the door.

You had a clipboard in your hands, scanning through what he assumed to be his condition that a nurse had written earlier after a quick checkup and disinfection of his open wound. Your lips were formed on a tight line, eyebrows furrowed. He continued to stare at you with such amusement.

"You don't have to answer my question, Youngho-ssi, but why are you always here?" You finally broke the silence, startling him in the slightest. You never bothered to ask before, always just offering smiles and small talks while you did your work; maybe his sudden regularity of coming to the hospital recently made your curiosity peaked.

He couldn't blame you. Anybody would be curious why a 24-year-old man keeps coming back to the hospital with no clear explanation.

He cleared his suddenly dry throat, he never liked saying his job. He said, "I box for a living."

"Ah, that makes sense!" Your eyes visibly glimmered, absentmindedly jotting down notes on his medical records. "My coworkers and I thought you were in a gang or something."

"I don't think I would be allowed to be here if I was." He chuckled, making you giggle as well.

"Seo Youngho, 24, minor lip laceration in need of immediate suture." You read of his data from the clipboard, almost comically. It was medical terms he was unfortunately already too familiar with, to him, it basically meant that he had a busted lip that needs to be sewed shut.

"You can just call me Johnny. Youngho sounds too formal to me." He said nonchalantly. You nodded your head to his simple request; it probably was best if you got to know him better since he frequented the hospital so much.

"Alright, Johnny. We'll start the process now, okay?"

With keen eyes, he watched you slip on a pair of surgical gloves. You grabbed a tissue from the metal tray that sat beside him and began folding it into squares. He felt his heartbeat quicken, he hated getting stitches or any form of medical treatments for that matter, but as morbid as it was, he thought of it as punishment for his recklessness in the ring.

"Isn't boxing just, I don't know, senseless violence?" You asked, tone dripping with pure innocence and unadulterated interest as you gently dabbed away the remaining dried blood the nurse failed to clean earlier.

"It's a sport, it's how I bring money to the table." He pursed his lips, ignoring the twinge of pain that surged through his nerves. He visibly relaxed when you placed a hand onto his shoulder to reassure him.

Ever since the first time you got assigned to him, the first thing he took note of was the softness of your hands. You handled him as if he was fragile glass, despite how he easily towered over you. He felt pathetic as a 24-year-old but your gentle touches would greatly help put him at ease.

"I guess. I didn't mean to be rude." You were hesitant, Johnny could tell but he was glad you didn't push on any further. He couldn't handle explaining his occupation when you were about to pierce his skin. "Okay, Johnny, now that your lip is clean and the anesthesia had seeped in, we'll start. I think you know how it goes by now."

"Make it quick, please." He nodded, squinting his eyes shut at the mere contact of a surgical pen grazing over his gaped lips. You were relieved that his cut wasn't too big, you couldn't stomach the idea of putting him in too much pain for longer.

As you picked up the tweezers and string of nylon, you couldn't help but laugh at the six-foot boxer in front of you who was clearly petrified of getting stitches, "This will be done as soon as you know it. You won't really feel it because of the anesthesia, remember? Now count to a hundred backward for me."

Once the numb feeling of nylon dragged through his lips, he swore he saw white spots flicker in his vision. His eyes immediately watered and he tried his best not to squirm under your hold, beginning to count to a hundred backward like you had instructed him to. You admitted it to him the first time you stitched him that it was a trick that you learned from your pediatrician friend. Despite it being for children, it helped to get him distracted while you focused on your job.

Minutes felt like hours, Johnny had been fighting the urge to punch something, anything, to release tension and nerves. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a peak and tried to take his attention away from what was currently happening on his lip. His gaze landed on your pretty eyes, how it was narrowed in focus and how your lashes perfectly framed it.

This wasn't the first time he'd observe you up close, there had been many occasions in the past that you had been too close for comfort in order to tend his wounds. It had been too many that it was almost as if he was close to memorizing your features. You were not only beautiful but you were also a smart and capable doctor.

Eventually, you finished and started to rub ointment on his sore lip — the finishing line.

"Try not to eat anything spicy or hard. You know the drill." You grinned at his suddenly pale features, ripping off your gloves as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the room. "You're good to go. Be careful next time."

He let out a shaky breath, clearly still winded up from the procedure, "I'll try. Thanks again, doc."

-

The punching bag felt great against Johnny's fists. There wasn't a feeling in the world that could compare to the impact of leather slamming against his skin. He could last hours mindlessly pummeling the bag if his stamina just allowed him to.

Hyunsik, Johnny's manager and personal trainer, drew away from the punching bag he held in between his arms. He let out a breath and held out a hand to motion that Johnny has done enough.

Johnny was hurting, Hyunsik could see that much. The bandages he had wrapped for the boxer's fingers were turning into a shade of red that they were all too familiar with.

Hyunsik clicked his tongue, "You should've used your gloves."

"How can I grow stronger if I keep relying on them?" Johnny rolled his eyes. His muscles needed a boost and this seemed to be the only logical way to strengthen them — a little blood never hurt anybody.

"Someday you're gonna fracture your hand and you'll be forced out of the ring. Remember that." Hyunsik huffed, his voice stern. "Take them off, I'll clean the blood off."

Johnny reluctantly did as told, unfurling the bandages wrapped around his fingers. The pain was excruciating when the fabric grazed along his tender skin, he winced at the unsightly view of his reopened wounds.

Hyunsik led him back outside of the ring to the benches where the first aid kit was. He made the boxer sit down so he could start cleaning off his wounds. It looked horrific, more so than it usually did and he had no choice but to break the news to Johnny.

"It looks really bad. You need to go get that checked in the hospital and have it sewed back." Hyunsik said, taking a wet towel and carefully dabbing it across Johnny's bloodied knuckles.

He didn't want to go to the hospital. Going to the hospital to have his wounds treated meant that Johnny would be medically required to take days off work to let his hand heal. Johnny frowned, "Don't you have an ointment or something that could help? I can't afford to lose a day of practice."

"Don't you think I know that?" Hyunsik rolled his eyes. "As your manager, I want you to be in top shape for your match next week, even if it means sacrificing a day or two for you to heal."

Johnny could only nod. He sat through Hyunsik's lecture on the changes he should make to his dietary plan and the exercises he should do during his temporary break. It infuriated him that he couldn't do anything about it but nod along.

The incoming match that was set next week would make or break his career as an underground boxer. He didn't have the option of missing it because of some measly reopened wounds. If he had to rest to get better, he had no choice but to suck it up. This was his fault anyway for pushing himself too much.

Johnny showered in the locker rooms and changed into nicer clothes that didn't reek of blood and sweat. His hands were stinging but he shook it off.

He ignored the concerned looks other boxers were giving him and begrudgingly made his way to the hospital to get himself checked in. You wouldn't be happy to see him all bloodied again, he thought.

-

Much to Johnny's surprise, it wasn't you who was assigned to him. It was a much older doctor with graying hair and a nose stuck too far up in the air. She was rude and condescending, her lack of politeness to her patients was quite appalling. If Johnny wasn't in such a bad mood, he might've complained already.

God, this day couldn't get any worse.

With a meek voice, Johnny asked where you were and at the mention of your name, his doctor gave him a narrowed look. She sneered, "She's handling much more important cases. Does she know you?"

"I think so." Johnny gulped, unsure of the answer himself.

The doctor's grip was tight and she was hasty. It was as if she was trying to speed through the process to just get it over with. Johnny wanted to cry because he was starting to get traumatized by this doctor's procedure, he didn't want to hate the hospital more than he already did.

He internally screamed for your name as he watched the doctor pull on the gloves. The sliding door harshly whipped open and there you were in all your glory, like an angel sent from above to save him from the devil incarnate who was about to pierce his skin.

You were panting and the sheen on your forehead made it obvious that you ran your way to his room. Johnny's heart leaped with glee.

"Unnie, I'll handle him." You said, unable to catch your breath as you made your way inside. "I think the ER needs you more than me."

The doctor seemed hesitant at first but you tried to convince her otherwise. She eventually agreed and left you with Johnny who had a cheesy smile on his face the entire time since you've arrived.

"So Johnny, what happened this time?" You asked, picking up the clipboard that sat next to him on the bed.

"I overdid the punching during training and it reopened some old wounds on my knuckles. It hurts like a bitch."

You pulled a face, "That's a bit intense."

He chuckled, "It's normal."

"Can I please see it?" You opened your palm so he could place his hand on yours. You observed his cuts and the scabs that were beginning to form around it, it was too deep to let it heal on its own so you made the verdict that he needed to get it sewed back together ⁠— as unfortunate as it was since he was a boxer and he needed his hands to box.

You tugged on a new pair of gloves and began the painful procedure, Johnny started counting down even without you instructing him to. You quickly got to work and stitched back his wounds with your lip in between your teeth

Johnny felt squeamish, he could never get used to the feeling of stitches. His eyes were glued shut and he mumbled numbers like it was mantra.

Once you were done, you smiled fondly at your work. You managed to get by with fewer stitches and you felt pride swell up in your chest. Johnny noticed and, as lightheaded as he was, couldn't help but smile as well.

"You're pretty good."

"At stitching?"

Johnny nodded with his cheeks flushed, he made a mental reminder to smack himself in the head later for such a crude comment. You probably thought he was an idiot now.

"I sure hope so." You chuckled, making him blush even deeper if that was even possible. "It's part of my job."

Johnny shook his head in embarrassment, his dark hair bouncing from how vigorously he did it. He mumbled, "That sounded really lame and not smooth, I'm sorry. Please forget I opened my mouth."

You could only chuckle as you apply the ointment around his knuckles. He wanted the ground to open up and just swallow him whole.

"Please let this heal completely, Johnny. Don't apply any strain on your injuries for a couple of days and refrain yourself from carrying anything heavy so that the stitches won't rip." You said, carefully placing down his hand back on his knee. You were gentle as ever, Johnny swooned. "Absolutely no punching for a while."

"I have an important match at the end of next week. Is there any way to speed up the healing process?" Johnny asked, his eyes were almost pleading at you and you blinked at him in surprise.

"Apart from what I just said, there's really nothing else you could do." You pursed your lips, watching his expression visibly deflate. "If you want to have even a sliver of a chance at winning your match, I suggest you do as I say. Your stitches won't take too long to heal, I promise."

If Hyunsik was there with him, he would've probably already scolded him but the point would be the same. He had always prioritized Johnny's health above winning.

"Okay, doc. I'll do my best." Johnny said, defeated.

"You know, I always see the aftermath of your matches and your training. I want to see you in the ring next time when you're not bloody and beaten up yet." You smiled at him and you swore that all the color that was previously drained from Johnny's face came rushing back. "If it's okay."

"Are you serious?" Johnny asked, almost dumbfounded. Did the pretty doctor he'd been crushing on for months really just asked if she could watch his match?

You nodded with the same hue of red now tainting your cheeks.

"O-Of course! It's on Saturday next week! Please come and cheer me on!" Like a little kid, he excitedly rambled on about the details about the upcoming match and you nodded with the same enthusiast as you wrapped bandages around his hands.

You weren't from his world so everything he said sounded foreign to you. The terms he said, the infamy of his opponents, the prominence of it all — you were eager to learn it if it meant seeing him this happy.

You've always known that he hated hospitals. It was clear from the way he acted during your first meeting. He was stiff and tense, the body language he exuded just screamed that he wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there. As he visited the hospital more and more, you noticed the hatred never faltered. He only became better at hiding it from you.

To see him so relaxed and carefree within the four walls he hated with all his being, it was a breath of fresh air and the feeling you had in your chest grew stronger.

"You're good to go. I promise to see you in your match." You were jotting some last-minute details on the clipboard and you missed the way Johnny kept grinning like an idiot. "As much as I love seeing you here, I hate that you keep getting yourself injured. Keep out of trouble for me, Johnny."

You left the room without letting Johnny say another word.

Fuck, Johnny realized he hadn't asked for your number.

-

Johnny's match started in ten minutes. His heart was pounding in his ears, he almost couldn't hear what Hyunsik was shouting to him.

The underground stadium was filled to the brim with people, he felt more nervous than he did during his first boxing match. A lot was at stake for this win, he needed the belt. He was desperate for it.

"Johnny, are you listening to me?" Hyunsik raised his voice, aggressively slapping Johnny's cheeks together in his hands so he could focus on him. The boxer's mind was fleeting and it was his job to pull him back to reality now.

He hadn't seen you since last week and as much as he wanted to go back to the hospital to see you, he refused to badly hurt himself in the days that led up to the match. Johnny scanned the crowd for your face but he couldn't see it. You weren't there.

At the lack of your turnout, he failed to mask his disappointment. Hyunsik let out an aggravated groan and pulled the boxer on his feet to berate him further.

"Johnny, please for the love of all things holy, look me in the eye."

"I'm sorry. I'm okay now. I'm listening."

"Good because your match is starting soon and I need you to win this. All your hardships and sacrifices boils down to this match, you hear me?" Hyunsik bellowed, trying his best to keep his voice louder than the cries and chants of the audience. "Show them what Johnny Suh is capable of!"

Johnny nodded fervently, forcing himself into a state of serenity of peacefulness. He let out heavy breaths to even out his breathing as his team surrounded him, prepping him for what was about to come.

Hyunsik raised his hand at Johnny. He had five minutes left until his match started and he wasn't calming down.

"Can I please have some water?" Johnny asked and his medic stumbled on his feet to fetch him a bottle from the nearby cooler. He couldn't help but let out a shaky chuckle, his team seemed tenser than he was.

He downed the bottle as soon as it reached his hand. His hand was shaky. Goddammit, why was he so nervous?

At the corner of his eye, he saw Hyunsik making his way over to the barricade that separated his corner to the rest of the stadium. He arched his neck in a way that would let him take a peek what was so important that Hyunsik had to leave his side when the match was starting in a few minutes.

It seemed like Hyunsik was trying to stop a girl who was forcing her way in through the barricade. His stomach lurched at the sight of her familiar face.

As if he was acting purely on instinct, Johnny shot up from his seat and ran towards you. Hyunsik held up his arm to stop him from going any closer to you. You could've been a deranged fan, for all Hyunsik knows.

"Johnny-"

"I know her."

Hyunsik was startled at his response and started to profusely apologize to you. You looked nothing but smug and Johnny let out a breathy laugh that helped unravel the knots in his stomach. The boxer quietly motioned for him to take his leave and Hyunsik hesitantly did as told only after tapping his wrist as a sign that time was ticking.

You bowed at him apologetically, "I'm so sorry I'm late! There was this damn patient-"

"It's okay. You're here now." He cut you off, a cheesy smile on his face. You easily reciprocated it back.

"I just came down here to wish you good luck." You said with the usual confidence in your tone gone and now replaced with a sudden timidness and bashfulness. "Not like you need it or anything."

"Where are you sitting?" Johnny asked, noticing that you were struggling to keep your attention on his eyes. He peered down and realized that he didn't have a shirt on, he chuckled.

You pointed near the walls of the stadium and he strained his vision to see so far away. He pursed his lips and let out a noise of discontent. You said that it was the only seats available because you were so late.

"Why don't you sit here with them? They wouldn't mind." Johnny said, jutting his thumb over to his team who was furtively watching his interaction.

"Oh no, it's okay."

"I insist. I want you to see me win up close."

You blushed a deep shade of scarlet and Johnny grinned at his successful attempt at a flirt. Was it even a flirt or was it an ego stroke? Either way, it didn't matter because you were smiling at him. You were easing his nerves and you didn't even know.

"I got out of my shift early so I wouldn't be in the hospital later to stitch you up." You teased, softly prodding his shoulder blade.

Johnny playfully puffed out his chest, "I don't plan on getting too injured today, I wanna look cool in front of you."

"Whatever you say, Johnny."

"But I'm nervous. I'm actually really nervous today." Johnny mumbled as if he didn't want anyone else in on your conversation, gone all traces of his cockiness as his heart thudded erratically against his chest when he heard Hyunsik's call of the last minute until he has to go inside the ring.

You gingerly reached for his taped hands and gave it a gentle squeeze, "Just count back from a hundred like I always tell you to. You'll do fine."

"Wait for me after the match, okay?" And so you did.

Counting down the numbers, Johnny clambered inside the ring and the bell rang to signal the start of the match. Being in the medical field meant that you were against all forms of violence so you couldn't really watch the entirety of the match without feeling sick to your stomach. Johnny didn't care, he was just happy that you kept your promise and was cheering him on.

It was hectic and everything was happening all at once. It was loud and everybody was screaming. This wasn't your world, it was Johnny's and your heart fluttered at the thought that he was willing to let you in it.

Eventually, the match ended in Johnny's favor and the next thing you knew, you were being hoisted up in the air. You had the biggest smile on your face, similar to Johnny's who now had a shiny belt slung over his shoulder. All his hard work and all his trips to the hospital paid off.

"Congrats on your win!" You exclaimed, placing your palms on his chest to steady yourself.

"I wanted you to see me get the belt." He admittedly sheepishly, reaching out to hold your wrists in his bruised hands.

"Aren't you hurt in any way? We can drop by the hospital if you want." You asked, checking to see if he had any major injuries but true to his word, Johnny was inflicted little to no injuries during the match, exclude the few bruises on his jaw and a busted lip

"Actually, I'd rather we get some coffee instead." Johnny said, the small smile on his lips making you chuckle.

"I'm sorry, I don't date my patients." You smirked at Johnny's crestfallen expression, softly shoving his side to make it known that you were only joking.

Johnny pulled a face, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding once he realized your joke. He played along, "I think you can make me an exception, I don't usually invite people to my matches."

"So this is about getting even, huh?" You were teasing him and now your faces were merely inches apart but before Johnny could even think of leaning in, you spun around and grabbed his hand once more. "C'mon then, my treat!"

Johnny let out a laugh. A boxer and a doctor, who would've thought?

[itsclydebitches]

Hi Clyde! I know this might be a bit late to the conversation but I just wanted to ask if you think M&K are writing Yang through a male lens? Not in the sense she's hyper-sexualised, but in the sense she lashes out at her allies without consequences (Fiona), has little empathy for female survivors of abuse (Salem and Blake) and gives her loved ones the cold shoulder when she doesn't agree with them rather than trying to reach an understanding (Blake and Ren).

Hi there, anon! No one is ever late to the conversation around here, not when I'm forever answering months-old asks lol

On the whole I would say no, simply because - as many others have pointed out in regards to other posts - this behavior is by no means seen solely in Yang. Ruby is out there lashing out in Volume 6, Jaune was giving Ren the same cold shoulder, no one else has expressed any empathy for the abuse survivors lately (though Yang might actually have a point in her favor there, given her talk with Weiss in Volume 5, when she learns about her mom's drinking). My point being, pretty much everyone is written with this classic masculine lens right now, where being angry, violent, and dismissive are framed as the correct way to approach problems, whether we're talking about Weiss shoving her weapon in Whitley's face, or Nora coolly brushing aside Ren's concerns. The exceptions being, to my mind, Ren - who learned this season that considering a kinder, more strategic approach is wrong - and Oscar who is embodying the archetype of the innocent child so fully that it allows him to forgive/grant absolution outside of the bounds of the story's internal logic and gendered expectations. Him reaching out to Hazel, Emerald, and even Ozpin is less a commentary on gender and more an extreme upholding of his status as the youngest and, comparatively, most innocent (which, as said previously, bumps up against Ruby's same, former status). Think Harry Potter, destroying evil with the love in his skin as an 11yo by merely touching Quirrel's face, not an older teenager hurling a dark curse at Malfoy while overflowing with rage. Oscar is still very much in that initial stage of being the young, baby-faced character who is not yet jaded and is thus able to overcome evil purely by wishing it so. Yet everyone else, including Yang, gets by on lies, secrets, violence, and anger - no matter how much the story wants to dress it up as heroics. So Yang is by no means alone in that.

What does interest me regarding Yang characterization right now is not, strictly speaking, about Yang. Rather, it’s about the presumed relationship with Blake and how changes to Blake’s character have reflected back on Yang. I won’t go into a full, eight season analysis of it here, but suffice to say, Blake’s personality has taken a sharp dive lately, most notably in the most recent volume. She used to be an opinionated, outspoken woman, the kind of person who marched up to Weiss in the middle of the street to denounce her family’s slavery, fighting for her people with as much intensity in a conversation as she gave on the battlefield. This is the woman who stormed off in anger at Weiss’ racism, demanded a solemn oath from Yang if she was going to believe her about the Mercury fight, rallied an army to defend Haven, set her own house on fire to defend her parents... I could go on. Blake used to only be quiet when it came to settling down with a good book. Now she’s far more meek and submissive. She’s been reduced to blushing prettily at Yang’s praise, begging Ruby to save her, going along with Yang’s plans for betrayal because she’s scared about killing again, clasping Ruby’s hands to assure her that she’ll save them all, etc. I use the term “reduced” intentionally because, on their own, there’s nothing wrong with any of these traits. If anything, Blake should be a more well-rounded character for being able to collapse crying over Adam, or go tongue-tied at a compliment. The problem lies in replacing her original personality with this new one: softer, less confrontational, less skilled, no longer as determined, no longer as angry, keeping to the background to play at comic relief or the damsel in distress. I bring all this up because - within the comparatively slim queer rep we’ve gotten in media - there’s a long history of writing them so that one is clearly the “man” in the relationship and the other is clearly the “woman.” This extends from visual markers like dividing them between assumed masculine and feminine clothing preferences - who wears dresses and who can pass for a boy in a baseball hat and sweats? - to caching in on equally assumed personality traits - who is the calm and compassionate individual; who has the temper and is constantly itching for a fight? To use two examples, think of couples like Sapphire and Ruby, or Kurt and Blaine. One is a cool blue in flowy dresses, always working to be sensible, while the other is an angry red in a sensible shirt and pants, easily pissed off. One is practicing a version of Beyoncé's “Single Ladies” in a sequined leotard, framed as the lady, whereas the other sings “Teenage Dream” in a suit at the piano, a song meant to appeal to the teenage girls watching, no matter the character’s sexuality. I’m simplifying a LOT here, including the context for the times (Glee) and the ways in which this divide is sometimes flipped (Ruby and Sapphire’s wedding), but my point is that whether authors realize it or not, they often force their queer characters into the gender binary, even while they’re supposedly meant to be challenging those norms. Blake and Yang, to get to a long-winded point, are becoming a part of that trend, wherein the closer they get to becoming a canonical couple, the more classically feminized Blake becomes. That, in turn, positions Yang as the “man” of the relationship. Already embodying some of those assumptions with her tough personality and brawl fight style, Blake’s regression into someone in need of rescue, someone less likely to speak up, someone who is visually positioned as less confident and in need of emotional care (think of her drooped ears and inability to make eye contact in “Ultimatum)” only increases that reading, especially given arcs like Yang’s insistence that she doesn’t need anyone protecting her, morphing into her becoming Blake’s protector instead. Yes, the dialogue states that they protect each other, but we all know RWBY struggles to show what the characters claim. Scenes like Yang arriving on a badass motorcycle to fight the majority of the battle against Adam, ending with her cradling a sobbing Blake who promises to never leave her side, or confidently taking Blake’s cheek in hand to comfort her after their not-fight, a moment of confidence and (unneeded) forgiveness... this all speaks volumes of something RWBY doesn’t think is there. So I don’t believe it’s intentional and, as said, there are a lot of complexities to take into account here, but I nevertheless don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’ve lost so much of Blake’s original personality right around the time the show got more serious about their relationship. As a presumed queer couple, there’s an instinctual desire to figure out which is the “guy” and which is the “girl” in the relationship, with Yang being positioned as the former the more Blake changes to fit the latter. 

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

12.what headcanon will you keep implementing in your fics, even if canon ends up contradicting it?

Oh there are plenty that I keep on the back burner.

Membrane’s Grandparents were poor and/or farmers. 

I know in the latest issue it showed scientist parents... But I like to think the smartest man in the world had a more humble upbringing and his Dad had a very strong work ethic. 

The only thing I don’t really like about the Scientist parent idea that the comics showed really DOES mean that they KNEW what Uranium 238 was, knew that their son asked for it, and gave him a never-ending avalanche of socks for Christmas anyways and said it was from “Santa”

Like.... I assume so, Membrane...

Even then, When my parents personally did the Santa thing, Santa would give me the cool gifts, and then the lame gifts like socks were from the parents... 

I can’t help but view the gift of a sock-avalanche from SCIENTIST PARENTS as nothing but an act of mal-intent, even if the issue doesn’t frame it that way.

There’s also the issue of Membrane inheriting Membrane Labs from his parents when their faces are nowhere to be seen if Membrane just took the reigns of an already established company... Sure, maybe his parents made their son the face of their company like some sort of Wendys situation... but Membrane’s ADULT face is what the face of Membrane labs is...  Wouldn’t his parents use his cute child face for a brand? Even if the company had no branding or merch until Membrane took over the company it just leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

I MUCH PREFER the idea that Membrane built Membrane labs as a company from the ground up based entirely on tenacity, spite and his intelligence. 

The idea that the smartest man in the world just was BORN INTO this lifestyle of science puts a VERY sour taste in my mouth..

ESPECIALLY with the other characters in Invader Zim and in Johnen Vasquez work in general. Characters like Zim and Dib always work hard to get to where they want to be... and I like the idea that Membrane is the RESULT of putting in that hard work, but he completely neglected himself on a social and interpersonal relationship level. 

I’m sure the Scientist parents were meant as a joke to further compare to how Membrane and Dib are alike... and the generational cycle of abuse... and the mean-spirited joke of his parents gifting him socks does fit the IZ world... but I don’t like it.

If his parents were POOR or Farmers, or just didn’t have access to or couldn’t afford Uranium 238, THAT MAKES WAY MORE SENSE to me. 

Then it would seem like his parents did it more as a 

“He won’t ask for anything else.”  or “Naughty children only get socks” thing 

rather than a:

“Yeah, we know exactly what that is and have access to it... but our kid could blow his face off, so have a bunch of socks instead ya gremlin” 

I just like to think Membrane’s childhood was fairly humble, and he was a feral scientist child and really bright and his parents didn’t know how to handle him, and He was an extreme Mama’s boy. Also the Poor upbringing would explain his workaholic tendencies without having the Scientist parents. 

Sorry Eric Trueheart, you can pry “Poor upbringing” Membrane from my cold dead hands.

I will take those character designs and that Grandpa Membrane smoked a pipe though. Those are amazing. 

Zim’s Computer (and all other irken Computers) AI Brains used to be living Irkens before getting culled. 

I made an analysis about it on my old account, but I can’t find it cause Tumblr really screwed up the search engine on that account. But anyways... in two more chapters in Tech Support, we’ll get to find out Computer’s “tragic backstory” (tm) Like that chapter is coming after the current one I’m writing. 

Irken blood is Pink

I don’t care if Dark Green blood makes sense from a biological standpoint... I just need Vaperwave and Cyberpunk auestetics. It’s more of a visual thing.

I think Dib has the potential to grow into a real caring young man if he’s properly nurtured and learns how to grow and I possess a strong dislike “loser” Adult Dib.

I’m sure you know what I mean... Crackhead Adult Dib, Feral Adult Dib, Miserable adult Dib...

Nothing against those Dibs... It’s been shown on the record that Dib having a miserable adult future is probably what Johnen wants for his character. (The doodles and streams I’ve seen Johnen draw of his characters as adults as drug addicts or just working dead-end jobs wasn’t enough) 

I even like asshole kid Dib, and asshole teen Dib, but I really want to believe Dib will mellow out a lot when he gets older and learn how to be considerate. 

Maybe I’m being too unrealistic, and I know there is a MAJOR market for Rat-man Miserable Dib in this fandom... I’ve seen like so many versions of him. But it’s not for me.

I think it’s partially because Dib is exactly how I was as a kid, and I grew up to be a pretty mellow and caring person. (for the most part) 

I just want to see Dib to grow up to be chill and mostly happy. 

Zim is the most defective Irken in the history of the Irken Empire. HOWEVER: By human standards, Zim is fairly average, just neurodivergent. 

I know that I’ve seen some analysis on how Zim, “Almost works” and while I do agree, I still think that Zim is the most defective of his species. 

He’s the only one who caused the Control Brains on Judgementia to go insane and he tends to be a pariah and a liability to everyone around him. Caused the death of two Almighty Tallest and a majority of other things that take place throughout the show, comics and deleted episodes alike. The Comics even mentioned that Zim is completely delusional and has some core memory issues.

(I’ve never even explained how Zim perceives the Judgementia arc in my au yet simply cause he doesn’t want to talk about or mention it yet... ) 

But a lot of Zim’s issues or “insane”-ness as the Irken empire sees it are fairly Normal issues for humans. Zim is just marked as the “most” defective simply because a lot of his “symptoms” are actually just very normal autistic or borderline/bipolar things. And that’s probably what he’d get diagnosed with by human standards.

Zim just feels things too strongly and has a terrible delusional memory and obsessively lies to himself to try to fit the mold of what a perfect irken soilder should be (in his mind) 

I have a feeling some of Zim’s PAK errors can be things as simple as: “can’t sit still.” “first words: I love you” , “short attention span” “overly emotional” and that’s marked as major concern to the empire.

But there are more serious ones like “Corrupted Memory drive.” “destructive” “delusional” etc...

But a majority of the list of what makes Zim, Zim are VERY common autism traits...

so if you give him that human diagnosis and then just examine Zim under HUMAN standards....

He’s not that bad at all.... 

Irkens can purr, chitter, and make a variety of sounds very similar to ants chittering combined with a cat. But typically, only defective Irkens seem to make these noises, and my Zim makes more of these noises and reverts to more primitive irken behaviors when he feels he doesn’t need to keep up appearances to be “NORMAL” anymore. In Irken Standards or Human standards. 

Zim is a weird Irken and sometimes things he does is not indicative to how other irkens act or behave, even though Dib uses it as a framework for a lot of his research, but a majority of it is just wrong because it’s Zim. 

THE COMPUTER IS A CHARACTER TOO! LET HIM DO THINGS! EVEN IN THE BACKGROUND OR A SUPPORTING CAST MEMBER... PLEASE... (I will die on this hill) 

GIR is smart and extremely perceptive. Also a hill I die on. I got into this fandom writing a thousand word essay on GIR and I still stand by all those points. GIR is smart... he’s just feral. And GIR can tend to notice things other characters don’t just cause his world-view is so simple. Zim and Dib think like one of those Pipe Windows screen savers... While GIR thinks in a straight line. 

Zim would rather create a maze to go through to get the cheese, rather than GIR who would just not bother with the maze and eat the cheese. 

GIR has great moments of clarity throughout the show, such as in Plauge of Babies and Walk of Doom

“Dib’s seen us before and he knows where we live”

“But if the big splody goes fast, won’t it get all bad?” 

Anyways... I think that’s it... I probably have a whole lot more. But those are my main ones. 

[ratedbangtann]

“Hey, you.” ~ JJK [18+]

↳ summary - Your friends made fun of you constantly for your crush on Jungkook. Except, you didn't have a crush on Jungkook - did you?

↳ rating - explicit/18+

↳ word count - 8.6k

↳ pairing - Jungkook x reader

↳ genre - college!au, friends to lovers

↳ warnings - TW// F2L, a little humour, passionate and rushed sex, fingering, unprotected sex (pls assume birth control! But wrap it up, guys), romantic sex, steamy and heated and generally just everything you want from college boy JK, right?

↳ a.n - what’s up, beauties! I was commissioned again! I hope you love this, I thought it was cute lmao. If you would like your own commision, or would like to leave a tip, please head to: https://ko-fi.com/ratedbangtann (I just lost my job thanks to corona so it's my only income right now lol)

**************************************************

Winter Break was supposed to be a chance to relax, to kick your feet up and enjoy the holidays; Christmas, new year… But you spent the whole three weeks studying, as always.

“You need to learn how to have some fun,” Tae had remarked more times that you were willing to count as he walked past you sat at the kitchen island of your tiny shared apartment off campus. Easy for him to say; acting majors hadn’t been given much to focus on over the break, but you? Broadcast production was a tough major, filled with coursework and studying alongside practical work.

The only days off you gave yourself had been Christmas day and New Year’s Day, and then it was back to your old routine. You and Taehyung had made Christmas cute for the two of you, whilst all your other friends had gone home for the holidays. But you were paying rent on this place, and a Christmas away from home didn’t seem like a bad idea.

But the break was over, and lectures and seminars were starting up yet again.

“______, you gave yourself absolutely no break. How are you so eager to get back to class?” Taehyung groaned as you walked onto campus together.

“Just happy to have some company that isn’t you for a change,” you teased, earning a shoulder shove from him.

“Tae! _______! Wait up!” you heard a familiar voice calling from behind you, and soon after an arm was around your shoulder and another best friend at your side.

“Hey Jimin, how was your break?” you smiled up at him, seeing that gorgeous smile beam back down at you.

“Good, but I missed my girls…” Jimin pouted at you, then reached around to ruffle Taehyung’s curls. Tae just rolled his eyes and smirked. “You see Jungkook yet?” he asked.

“No, not yet. He’ll probably roll into class at the last second, as per usual. I haven’t heard from him over the break,” Tae rambled, missing Jimin’s tone entirely.

“No, I meant… he looks different… You’ll see,” Jimin smirked. You raised a quizzical eyebrow at him, but he just winked and returned his focus onto getting to class.

In the halls of your college campus, you split from the boys and waved them off at the performing arts department – Jimin was a dance major, specifically contemporary, and often had classes adjacent to Taehyung in the studios.

Your class however was held in one of the lecture theatres right at the other side of the block, so you walked through the corridors of chattering students, waving hellos to those that you knew from class or working on projects with other majors. Jin – Jimin’s frat leader – waved sweetly to you as he stood at the water fountain surrounded by girls wanting to hear everything about his ski vacation to Italy. Quite comical, really – like the alpha of a pack at the watering hole.

He may have been a ladies’ man at first glance, but he was a real sweetheart when you got him away from the herd. All those girls, and yet he was always very respectable, never hitting on them, simply enjoying the attention and remaining chivalrous. You smiled at him and waved back, a silent promise to check in with him when lunch kicked in.

Walking into your classroom, you weren’t expecting to see Jungkook ready and waiting for you in your usual spot in the fifth row – and you had been right. As if the boy could be on time, ever. All part of his charm, you suppose. So you slipped into your seat and waited for him, no doubt the last one in as the final bell rang out. You focussed on pulling out your laptop, logging into it and opening up a document to start your note taking.

Being a little early, you had time to scroll through your college emails like you obsessively did every day. You were so engrossed in your task, you hadn’t even noticed Jungkook walking into the room until he sat beside you.

“Hey, you,” he spoke softly as he sat down, pulling his headphones out of his ears. He always greeted you that way – a running joke from the start of college. He’d taken far too long to remember your name, and so when paired up with you on the first assignment, he fell short, simply addressing you as “you” whenever you would meet in the library to work. Now, it was almost a term of affection.

“Hey Kook-“ you started as you looked up, but your eyes widened, and your jaw dropped.

It had only been three weeks…where did all that hair come from? How was he now able to tie it back into an adorable little ponytail? And why did it bloody suit him so well? And… Oh my god, were those tattoos on his fingers?

This couldn’t be the same Jungkook, surely not? Last time you had seen him, his hair was getting longer sure, but not at all able to tie up. And he most certainly didn’t have hand tattoos, or any other tattoos that you were aware of. Jimin was the only person you knew with a tattoo…

And yet, as you studied the boy beside you setting up for the lesson, it was most definitely him. The same bunny-toothed smile and innocent wide eyes; the same all-black cargo pants with a chain and oversized sweater; the same dangly chain and hoops earring along his lobe and helix. Except with his hair like this and little tattoos to match, he looked – dare you say it – sexy…

“You know, with a little bit of eyeliner and a motorcycle, you may well be on your way to joining the cast of ‘Sons of Anarchy’,” you laughed. He grinned at that.

“Are you referring to the tattoos, or the epic man-bun?” He slunk back into his seat and smirked. “It’s not just my hand, you know…” He pushed his sleeve up to proudly show the multiple tattoos on his forearm; a skull hand, a floral design with lettering, some writing that your eyes followed to read ‘rather be dead than cool’. “More up here too but I’ll show you another time.”

“Where’s my sweet innocent little Kookie gone? I’m gonna have to think of a new nickname now…” you huffed, still admiring the black ink over his skin.

“You know I always wanted tattoos, well I got a bunch of money from family this Christmas, so I thought, screw it. If not now, then when?” he shrugged. Seemed like pretty sound logic to you, and you had to admit they were pretty awesome.

“Why this one?” you pointed at the flowers.

“Ah, my birth flower, tiger lilies. Korean meaning for them is ‘please love me’, so that’s-“

“Alright class, welcome back to the second semester. Hope you all enjoyed your break, but it’s back to work!” your professor started the class with a loud announcement, silencing Kook in the process. You’d have to get him to tell you about then more later.

*****

“Oh this one is just a Nirvana quote, I liked it. Song is called Stay Away. And the Ox is my birth year, the lilies my birth flower…” Jungkook was explaining his new ink to the group in the refectory hall, perched up on the table next to where you sat, where Jimin sat marvelling at the ink with his dance major best friend, Hoseok. On your table, Jin and Taehyung were catching up on the events of their winter breaks. Well… Jin was telling Taehyung all about his ski trip, of course.

You were just absentmindedly staring at Jungkook, sat on top of the table chatting away with Jimin. His hair was half up in that cute little ponytail, with dark tendrils falling into his eyes and framing his face. It suited him well, looked so soft and silky too. He looked so different and yet exactly the same. His sweetness hadn’t changed, his sense of humour hadn’t changed. And yet something felt different, and you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Next thing you knew, fingers were being snapped in front of your face and waking you from your little daydream.

“Earth to ______…” Jin called, still snapping. “Don’t you want to hear my epic tale of heroic skiing skills?” You pushed his hand out of your face and gave him your full attention.

“You know, fantasy’s not really my genre, Jin,” you remarked, earning an overly offended response.

“You should be kinder to your elders, young one. Especially when he’s the head of the best fraternity on campus and throwing the first back to school party of the semester this Friday that he can or cannot get you barred from, young lady!” he rattled off; of course he would never exclude you from a party, and he was only joking.

“Hey!” a voice boomed behind you, deep and fast approaching. And then said voice was sitting beside you and dumping his bag on the table, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in mock protection. “You could never exclude our fraternity sweetheart. She is the soul of every omega delta gamma event.”

“Precisely. Nice try, Jin,” you winked, turning to hug the new face at the table. “Hey Joon,” you greeted as he dropped his arm from your shoulders.

“Well then pay attention to me, _______! Instead of gawking at Jungkook’s new bad-boy get up. We get it, you want him. Now back to me please!” Oh god, this again.

“Will you shut up? I do not want Jungkook,” you scathed, lowering your voice to stop him from possibly overhearing from the next table. The others at the table giggled. “What?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing…” Joon laughed. “So skiing, Jin?” You were grateful to Namjoon for taking the heat off you, now trying too hard to look like you were only paying attention to Jin.

“Yes, skiing…” Jin sat up straight and continued his story.

*****

“Pizza or fried chicken?” Taehyung asked as he scrolled through menus on his iPad, plopping down on the couch beside you in your apartment.

“Oooor, I could just cook?” you laughed.

“No, Miss Kill-joy… It’s been a long day of falling asleep in class and listening to Jin’s skiing trip stories over and over again. We’re ordering in.”

“Fine. Pizza,” you surrendered, flipping through show after show on Netflix. “We still haven’t finished season 3 of Stranger Things yet, feeling brave enough today?” you teased. Taehyung had always been a little too easy to frighten, and it was honestly a wonder he’d made it through the first two seasons without scaring himself silly.

“Oh god.. Uh, maybe? I’m getting pretty desperate to figure out what’s happening to Billy but like, do I really wanna know?” he didn’t even look up from his phone as he spoke, focussing on adding the toppings to his make-your-own pizza.

“If you get too scared, you can spend the night in my room with me, okay? Won’t let anything happen to my Tae-Tae,” you pouted dramatically, babying him with a pinch to his cheek that had him shrinking away from you and giggling like a child. “Oh, can I get a-“

“BBQ base, and a side of chicken wings. I got you,” he smirked. Damn, he knew you too well. “Put the damn show on, I’m a grown up now. Can handle it.”

“Tough words…” you laughed, flicking through the shows to land on Stranger Things, and hitting play.

It didn’t take long for Taehyung to be shrinking into a ball against the couch and hiding half his face behind a pillow. Poor thing, he was just too sensitive. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t enjoying it. It just meant he’d be curled up against you snoring and clutching your arm all night.

An episode in, and food had arrived. You grabbed some plates and empty glasses and created yourself a little feast on the coffee table in front of you. You figured the next episode could wait until you’d had something to eat.

“So tell me,” Taehyung started, cheeks full of pizza like a hamster hoarding nuts, “how’s the insane crush on our own adorable little bunny holding up now that he sports a man-bun and an arm of ink?”

“You’re really still on this, aren’t you?” you avoided the question and all eye contact with Taehyung, dipping your pizza crust into some ranch dressing and quickly shovelling it in so you wouldn’t have to do much more talking. But still, he pressed on.

“Oh my god, stop trying to cover it up. We all see it. Only person who doesn’t is Jungkook, which is insane, considering…” he raised his eyebrows and picked up a chicken wing, leaning back into the couch. Despite his already full hamster cheeks, he took a bite of the spicy wing.

“Considering what?” you asked curiously through chewing. He took a moment to answer, raising his finger to keep you silent and waiting impatiently while he swallowed.

“Considering how obvious you are, always staring at him when he’s not looking, always looking around to find him, asking after him. You practically swoon when he walks in a room, you laugh at all of his terrible jokes, and don’t think we didn’t all see you drooling at lunch. It’s just ironic, that neither of you realise…” he chuckled to himself, taking another large bite of a pizza slice he picked up in his free hand, practically shovelling the food in.

“Neither of us? What do you mean?” you asked, confused. Tae froze on the spot, a string of cheese latched between his teeth and stuck to the end of the pizza he’d just bitten into. It stretched and broke off from the slice, dangling comically from his lips. But neither of you laughed.

He took his time reeling in the string of cheese, proceeding to take forever to chew his mouthful, clearly stalling for time before swallowing overdramatically.

“Just meant like… neither of you notice that you’re drooling over him, y’know? Yeah, that’s it.” He wouldn’t look you in the eye, quickly shovelling another mouthful of pizza in his mouth to avoid having to speak further on the matter.

“You know for an acting major, you’re a terrible liar…” you scoffed, folding your arms over your chest as you turned your whole body to face him on the couch. “What did you really mean?”

Tae sighed. He could never lie to you, not really. You knew him too well for that, spent too much time with him to know his tells. And truly, he was a really terrible liar when it came to his friends. He dropped the pizza back into the box and turned to you, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and swallowing the latest mouthful.

“I’m just saying, we all see the way you drool over Jungkook, but like… it’s more, isn’t it? You don’t just wanna screw his brains out, you’ve been falling for him since day one when he wondered into your lecture hall like a lost puppy. We all know It, ______… We talk about it all the time. And it’s just… it’s ironic ‘cause… well….” His eyes darted up to look at you, finding your expression to be a mix of both realisation and confusion in one.

And he’d be right. How on earth had it taken someone literally telling you that you liked Jungkook, to realise that, well… you bloody liked Jungkook! How far did this thing go? How deep did these feelings sit? Have they always been there? Did they grow over time? Is it just a crush or is it more than that?

But it made sense. You had always found him cute, sometimes attractive – hell, even sexy sometimes… But most girls did, he was Jeon Jungkook. Except that didn’t explain why you always wanted him around, why you always thought of him first when someone asked about your friends, why you were often caught out staring at him by the others. There was something more… Oh god, there were feelings involved.

You snapped back to reality, reminding yourself that somehow Taehyung wasn’t finished speaking…

“Wh-why is it ironic?” you stuttered, not even bothering to deny his claims any longer.

“Because to all of us it’s also painfully obvious how much he likes you too…” he said sheepishly, slowly so as not to shock you too much.

“N-no he doesn’t,” you protested weakly. He couldn’t, he’d never shown any signs.“Oh _______… yes, he does. I can’t understand how you both haven’t realised, it’s painfully obvious to all of us. Jimin said he’d asked about you the second he got back to the frat after vacation. He always talks about you. They ask him how his class went, and he’ll reply like ‘oh yeah it was good, _____ did this, _____ did that, _____ made me laugh so hard today’. It’s adorable but Jimin said he barely talks about anything else.

“Funny thing is, you stare at him when he’s not looking, and he stares at you when you’re not looking. We laugh about it all the time, it’s kinda funny to watch. I honestly don’t know how you can function alone together in class,” he laughs, shaking his head at the image of you both automatically turning your heads periodically.

“But... He…” you shook your head trying to think of excuses for him, but you were drawing a blank.

“I mean he actually told Hobi he liked you about a month ago when he was drunk. Hobi said he was crying into a bucket and whining about how he’d never have you and he just likes you soooo much between hurling,” Tae laughed at his own impression of Jungkook weeping. You couldn’t help yourself then.

You leaned forward and slapped his shoulder, followed by another slap and another, all cushioned by his hoodie and barely enough to hurt anyway, just to annoy.

“Ow, hey! HEY! What- What’s that for? Ow!” he cried dramatically as you knelt over him, slapping his arm out of pure frustration.

“YOU,” slap, “NEVER,” slap, “TOLD ME?!” you yelled. “You knew all this time I liked him, and you said NOTHING?!” you sat back on your heels running your hands through your hair totally exasperated.

“Well I assumed you knew that at least you had feelings for him, Jesus! It’s so obvious!”

“And when he said he liked me you didn’t think to bloody tell me?!” you scoffed, indignant.

“Well he was drunk, and he didn’t remember in the morning so…” Tae rubbed his arm dramatically.

You rested your elbows on your knees and buried your head in your hands. You had to figure out what to do with this information, if you should do anything at all. God, you’d been fawning over him since Freshman year. No wonder they’d teased you about it constantly in the last few months… You felt like a fool. You hadn’t even realised you were crying until the first silent tear rolled down your cheek.

Taehyung said nothing then, pulling you to lean on him with an arm around your shoulder. He rubbed your back and kissed your forehead like a good friend should, comforting without having to say a word.

“I feel stupid, Tae…” you whined into his shoulder.

“No, sweetie, I’m the stupid one. Should have said something sooner. I’m sorry…” he held you with both arms then, feeling a surge of guilt for keeping such information from his best friend.

In your head, you tried to think of any signs you might have missed, anything at all that proved what Tae was saying. And although they’d made fun of you for liking him all this time, you knew he would never, ever lie to you about something like this. Especially not with your tears soaking into his hoodie.

You needed to do something about this. You needed to say something to Jungkook, maybe to be a little (a lot) more obvious. Either way, now that you knew he liked you, you couldn’t simply sit on this information. Time had been wasted already…

*****

You were gonna do it. You were gonna tell him, that very morning, just after class let out for lunch. You’d pull him to the side, explain you wanted to talk to him. Go somewhere quiet. Tell him the truth.

At least, that had been your plan. But the second he walked in as the final bell rang that morning and sat beside you, you lost your nerve. Now suddenly, you had to deal with butterflies attacking your insides, and an inability to act natural around him. Awesome.

“Hey, you,” he smiled as he sat down beside you, as always. Only today you couldn’t muster a genuine smile back, just a nervous half smile. And he noticed. “Whoa, what’s up?” He put his hand on yours that rested in your lap and you flinched a little from him, like his had was made of hot coals. He held his hands up, staring at you with wide bunny eyes like you’d trodden on his tail.

“S-sorry, bit jumpy today I guess…” Smooth, _______. Real smooth. “Nightmare last night,” you lied.

“Oh, I’m sorry… need a hug?” he opened his arms to you and of course, you couldn’t say no to that. So you shuffled along the bench of the amphitheatre and slotted into his arms, curled up in a little ball and tensing up as soon as his arms wrapped around you and hugged you to his chest. You weren’t sure if he could tell you were tensed up or not, but to you it was painfully obvious.

“Alright class, we have assignment marks to discuss!” your professor started his talk, and Jungkook reluctantly let go of you, letting you straighten up and open your laptop to take down your notes. But he kept his eye on you the whole time, watching with concern at your sudden stiff manor around him. Had he done something wrong?

*****

“Taehyung it’s been three days and I don’t know how to act around him anymore! Help me. You did this. You fix this,” you paced in front of his little desk in the student union, where he spent Thursday afternoons working.

“Uh, this isn’t my fault. You could ha-“ You lost your cool, dramatically slamming your hands down on his desk and leaning down to be eye level with him. He shut up immediately.

“Fix. It,” you demanded.

“Okay, okay… Uh, there’s a party tomorrow right? Jin’s party? At the fraternity?” he scrambled for ideas.

“Oh no, tell me you’re not serious. No, this is like some cheesy Netflix teen movie or something,” you groaned, pushing off his desk and pacing yet again.

“Yeah well it’s the best I’ve got, okay? So just… I don’t know, ask him to dance, get him a drink, take him to one side, talk to him. If it goes wrong, blame it on the alcohol. Yes, it’s a cliché. But clichés are clichés for a reason,” he tried to convince you, and unfortunately, it was starting to work…

“If this backfires, I’m holding you solely responsible,” you warned, pointing your finger accusingly.

“Okay, yes, fine, whatever,” he shook you off, turning his attention back to the calendar of student activities that he’d been working on for this semester. “You should wear that black dress, the one with the mesh layer. He likes that one.” Just how much info did Taehyung have on Jungkook’s little crush on you?

 “Oh for god’s sake,” you rolled your eyes and grabbed your bag, stomping back to the cafeteria to find Namjoon or Jimin; anyone but your infuriating best friend.

*****

“I’m telling you, the dress was the right choice,” Tae tried to convince you as he escorted you the few blocks to the campus where the frat house was. Your arm was linked with his as if you were a couple from the 50’s on a stroll along the beach; very typical Tae.

“And how is it you know so much about which of my dresses Jungkook likes the most?” you asked suspiciously.

“Well last time you wore this was when we all met up in summer right? And we went to that club? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He turned to me and said, ‘she looks good tonight, right?’ I just agreed and let him carry on staring while you danced with Hobi and Yoongi.”

“Oh, is Yoongi coming tonight? I miss him!” your attention was diverted to the friend who had decided college wasn’t for him, and he was going to pursue a career in DJing instead.

“Yeah he’s bringing his decks, you know how he is.” Indeed you did; always had a decent mix for any kind of party.

Turning the corner to head down the street of sororities and fraternities, you could already hear the bass from Yoongi’s speakers blaring and lights flashing in the large bay window at the front of the house. Already in full swing, then.

Inside, the whole ground floor was littered with bodies all drinking and dancing already. Looking around, you could see a few people you knew, but none of your closer friends just yet. Only Yoongi, set up with his decks in the corner of the large living room. You dragged Tae over to him first.

“Hey _____! How’s life?” he yelled over the music, putting an arm around you for a side hug and lightly bumping fists with Tae, beer in hand.

“Good, good. Seen any of the others yet?”

“Uh, Jin was setting up a keg in the other room, with the pool table in? Namjoon was with him. No idea about the others.” He took a gulp of beer, fiddling with some buttons in front of him. “Here,” he yelled, hitting the top of a bottle of beer on the edge of his mixing desk to get the cap off, handing it to you.

“Thanks! I’m gonna go find the others, say hi.”

“Alright doll, come dance later okay? I’ll play that mix I made for your birthday,” he smiled his adorable gummy smile, patting your elbow lightly and turning back to his decks, holding his headphones to his ear as he bobbed his head to the heavy bass.

Tae stuck by Yoongi’s side, catching up on lost time with him. Tae was fond of Yoongi, looked up to him like a big brother he rarely got to see. You made your way through the hordes of students into the room you expected to find Jin, and low and behold there he was feeding Namjoon from the keg. Whilst you were glad to see them, that wasn’t who you wanted to find… You wanted to find Jungkook.

“Save some for the rest, Joon!” you laughed as he held the end of the pipe.

“_____! You made it!” he cheered, hugging you with his free arm.

“Have I ever missed one of these?” you laughed, comfortably tucked under his arm and playfully hitting his chest.

“Touché,” he grinned.

“You guys seen Kookie?” you asked, trying to seem casual. The pair just smiled to each other, thinking you weren’t in on the joke still.

“Kitchen, I think. But have a drink with us first, he’s gonna be around somewhere. Pay attention to us,” Jin whined, clearly making fun of you again. You didn’t even argue, taking a few gulps of the beer Yoongi had handed to you. You chatted to them for a while, joining in with the chants and cheers of people brave enough to do keg stands with Jin, at least until your drink was empty, and you had an excuse to leave and find Jungkook.

The kitchen had people in too, same as every other room and the room was only lit by the flashing lights of the living room. You spotted Jungkook on the other side of the room, leaning against the worktop with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other. He was alone, a perfect opportunity to get him out into the yard, or somewhere quieter at least.

He looked so good tonight… Wet look black jeans clinging to his muscular thighs, a black shirt with red dots all over tucked into them, a few buttons undone. Necklaces dangling against the exposed skin at the top of his chest, hair down and flowing freely, showing off just how long it really had become. And his sleeves were short, showing off his new ink properly for the first time… There was no denying the attraction you felt to him anymore, that was for sure.

The same butterflies you’d been feeling around him all week were rising, frantically fluttering against your stomach as heat rose to your cheeks. You hadn’t even noticed you yet, but you could feel your hands getting sweatier.

But you could do this. It was Jungkook. Even if he really didn’t feel the same way, he would never be cruel about it, never laugh at you or yell at you. You had nothing to be afraid of. It would hurt if he didn’t want you, but your friendship would survive; you knew it.

He briefly looked up from his phone, eyes finding you. Immediately, his body stood upright, sending you an awkward smile; that was your fault. You’d been acting weird all week, ever since your epiphany with Taehyung. But you smiled back, trying to look as natural as possible.

You lifted your empty beer bottle and mouthed ‘want one?’ at him, to which he nodded. You smiled and headed to the large fridge freezer, picking out two bottles for the both of you, but when you turned back, you almost dropped them both to the ground…

A girl had wondered up to Jungkook, a prettier, popular girl from one of the sororities. She’d snatched his attention away, playfully touching his hair and tracing his tattoos with her delicate fingers. She leaned into him, her lips devilishly close to his ear. She was clearly whispering something flirty to him, his eyes widening a little and his cheeks turning pink. And then she started to nibble at his earlobe…

You caught his gaze again for a second, and his eyes widened even more. Could he see the shock on your face? The tears brimming in your eyes and blurring your vision? Could he see your knuckles turning white against the necks of the bottles in your hands?

You couldn’t watch any more, putting the bottles down on the kitchen island in front of you and hastily exiting the kitchen with hot tears starting to spill. You were gonna do it, you really were. But who were you kidding? The sight of another pretty girl, a prettier girl, was all it took to divert his attention. Tae had been wrong; he must have been.

You didn’t feel much like partying anymore…

Without stopping, you walked straight to the front door and out onto the street, disappearing from the party without so much as a wave to any of the others. You hadn’t even seen Jimin or Hoseok yet, but you didn’t care. You needed to get out, to go home. To be alone and sob to your heart’s content.

The air outside was cold, biting at your skin as you stumbled the few blocks home, wiping your cheeks and trying to hold it together until you were safely in the confides of your own home. It didn’t take long, and before you knew it you were stumbling up the stairs in your ankle boots and struggling to fit the key in the door.

You shut it behind you and leaned against it, hitting your head on the wood and freely letting the tears and the sobs rattle through you. How stupid you felt, how naïve… You just got used to the idea you had feelings for him, how dare the universe now give you heartbreak just a few days later. What kind of bullshit karma crap was that?!

You let yourself sob against the door for a moment as you found some composure, enough to realise you just wanted to get into some comfy sweats and a hoodie and eat whatever crap you could find in your refrigerator. You didn’t stop the tears but took a few steps further into your apartment, when some loud knocks rang out on the door behind you.

You jumped a little, startled by the noise and furiously started wiping the tears away. Taehyung must have seen you leave, must have followed you home to comfort you knowing that it hadn’t gone well with Jungkook. He’d feel so awful, probably blame himself for getting your hopes up or something. But he’d have the warm hugs you needed right now.

But then, Taehyung lived here. Why would he be knocking?

You stepped towards the door and opened it slightly, peaking through the crack so see who had been rasping on the wood moments before.

As if the world was playing some sick joke on you, Jungkook was stood there, his face looking sad and his fingers fiddling with each other.

What you hadn’t seen, was the way he stopped that girl at the party as soon as he saw the look on your face, as soon as he saw you dump the beers and turn. He saw the look on your face, and suddenly it had all clicked into place for him. You liked him too. And his heart had dropped into his stomach. He tried to follow you, getting stuck behind a couple of the jocks from the neighbouring frat house, and tailing behind you trying to shout your name over the heavy bass of Yoongi’s mix.

The second he saw your reddened eyes he stepped forward, pushing his way into the apartment, giving the door a kick shut behind him and cupping your jaw in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe your tears away. He smiled weakly at you, already aware that it was his fault you were crying, his fault you had left.

“Hey, you,” he said softly, his tone so affectionate, so worried and full of care as he looked into your eyes. They brimmed again at his words; they just sounded so sweet coming from him, like you were the only person in the whole world he’d want to say hello to at all.

But you stood frozen, biting down on your lip to stop a sob from erupting from your throat. All you could do was look up at him, his hands holding your face up towards him as his thumbs stroked over your cheeks. His eyes were searching yours in the silence, like he was trying to find confirmation or a sign or something, but you just weren’t sure.

But before you could even try to compose yourself enough to speak, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours so softly, so cautiously, lingering for a second and waiting for you to push him away, to slap him or scream at him for getting the wrong idea – but he hadn’t and you both knew that.

So when he parted from your lips and looked back down at you, he saw your small smile, the tears spilling yet again, the deep breaths you were taking. In such close proximity, he could practically hear your heart threatening to beat out of your chest and feel the way your cheeks had heated up under his hands.

And he couldn’t deny himself anymore.

He leaned in again, this time with more purpose, more aggression, his lips crashing with yours only this time you were ready for him, matching his desperation, his urgency. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. You couldn’t seem to get close enough, not even when your chest pressed against his.

Finally, after months of unrecognised feelings towards him, Jungkook was here and he wanted you. You didn’t care about anything else, couldn’t focus on anything else but the way his lips felt against yours, the way his hair felt silky soft brushing up against your forehead.

His hands slid into your hair, fingertips grazing over your scalp and adding a layer of bliss to the way he kissed you. One of your hands slip up his chest and wrapped around his neck to draw him in even more. He groaned against your lips, and if the stirring in your chest was anything to go by, you knew where you wanted this to go.

You just wanted him.

Without disconnecting your kiss, you stumbled backwards, dragging him with you through the hall of your small apartment. You stumbled together, your back hitting your bedroom door as his hand flew out to turn the doorknob for you. The pair of you shuffled into your room, Jungkook kicking the door shut once again.

His hands dropped from your hair and flew to his shirt buttons, hastily undoing them one by one as you took the opportunity to separate from your kiss to undo the zip at the side of your dress and shuffle out of the mesh over-layer and the straps of the black dress underneath. You pushed it down around your waist, breasts still hidden from view by the black bra you’d worn that evening.

Jungkook flung the shirt from his body, immediately stepping towards you again to grip your bare waist in his hands and reconnect your lips fiercely. Both your arms wrapped around his neck and you pulled him towards you as you stepped further and further back, until the backs of your knees hit your bed and you tumbled backwards with him still locked on your kiss.

Everything was happening fast, everything was heated and desperate but after so long denying your feelings for him – and unbeknownst to you, him denying his feelings for you too – you felt like there was just no time to waste.

His lips found their way to your jawline, kissing and nipping at the skin from under your ear down to your chin, and continuing down your throat. He took his time, his hands working through your hair again as you moaned under his assault on your neck. It felt so good – he felt so good. You couldn’t help your hands reaching between you both to unbuckle the belt holding his jeans up, making light work of the button and zipper soon after. You could already feel the large bulge formed in the now open crotch of his jeans, and it stirred a heat between your legs that had already been steadily building.

Jungkook’s lips travelled further down, between the valley of your breasts to mouth and bite and suckle at the fullness on display above the cup of your bra. He reached underneath you to unclasp it, while you worked the straps down and threw it to one side. His mouth immediately latched onto your nipple, his hand massaging the other as he tweaked and flicked the nub over and over again.

Your moans sounded obscene, breathy and whiny under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled up to grind against the prominent bulge you’d uncovered earlier; you needed some kind of friction now that the uncomfortable sticky feeling in your panties was only worsening.

No words were exchanged at all – and certainly no time wasted on teasing you – as the hand on your breast slid between you both and pulled the remnants of the mesh dress and the tight underdress down, both of you kicking it off to let it land in a pile at the bottom of the bed. His waist slotted neatly between your thighs and his hand cupped your sex, middle finger toying with the wet lace of the underwear you had on.

“Oh, Jungkook…” you whined, breathless and lost in the bliss of both his mouth working your breasts and his hand dipping past the lace to swirl around your throbbing clit. Hearing you whine his name was something he’d admit to only dreaming about in the past, his brain daring him to think of all the things he wanted to do with you, all the ways he could make you create that exact sound for him over and over again. It was music to his ears.

It only seemed to rile him up further, fingers moving faster and expertly toying with your clit just a little more, until he slid them down to circle your entrance and slowly push two inside you. The stretch felt magnificent, and by this stage you were already turned on enough to be able to take both with no issues.

Jungkook groaned against your breast, a wave of arousal pulsing through his veins at the way you felt on his fingers, imagining with absolute clarity just how you’d feel on his cock too. He curled his fingers and hit your g-spot with each downward stroke of his hand, having you thread your hands in his hair in desperation to grip onto something, anything.

“P-please, Kookie… Need you,” you panted, begging to feel him completely, to be totally immersed in the pleasure of him and him alone. How could he deny you of that?

He sat up on his knees immediately, pushing his jeans and boxers down to his knees and swivelling his hips to sit enough to push them off along with his black Chelsea boots. You kicked your shoes off as he did, shuffling yourself out of your panties and leaving you both totally exposed to each other.

He took a moment to turn his head back to you, to look into your eyes properly and just admire how you looked right now. Your hair was messed up, matted to your forehead with sweat much like his was. You had dark rims under your eyes where your make up had pooled from your tears and streaks in your foundation to match. Your neck was red and in places, a little bruised from his own handiwork. And he had never, ever thought you looked so beautiful.

His expression twisted into a smile, his eyes squinting and his bunny teeth gleaming in the low light of the street coming in through the window. It was all you could do to smile back, resting on your hands as he slowly crept up the bed towards you, the happiness exuding from both of you, the knowing relief you shared with each other. You parted your legs for him to slot between, letting him hover over you and slowly lean in for another deep kiss.

You lay back down, Jungkook following to never once break your connection. His hands roamed from your thighs up to your waist, holding onto you as your lips moving in perfect unison, slower than before but still incredibly heated. You’d never been kissed like this, never been held like this or touched like this. He was making every single touch count.

You rolled your hips up against him again – a sure signal that you were ready, you wanted him – and felt his rigid length brush against your folds. Reaching between you both, Jungkook gripped himself at the base and slowly, began to push inside you. Your kiss separated just barely for him to groan in absolute gratification, lips just barely grazing yours. He pressed his forehead with yours and shut his eyes, revelling in the way you felt.

There was no denying his girth, and yet still there was no pain or discomfort to be felt. He eased himself in slowly, gave you a chance to adjust, and as soon as you started to kiss him once again his hips began to rock.

His hair fell into his eyes, descending past his ears and doused in a light layer of sweat from the heat inside your small bedroom. The pendants and necklaces he had worn that night dangled above you, swaying backwards and forward with each thrust he made. His freshly healed tattoos were now on full display to you, and you could help but to reach out and touch them.

Each thrust just felt like it was meant to be, like he was supposed to fill you this way, you were supposed to fit together like pieces of a jigsaw. You reached up to tuck his hair behind his ear, showing more of his face to you. In the dim streetlight, he looked so perfect, so absolutely stunning as he clearly became consumed by nothing other than you. You placed a hand flat against his chest, wrapping the other around his neck and bringing his lips closer to you so you could reach up for them again.

As your bodies writhed against each other, moan after moan escaping you both and being muffled by intermittent kisses, you knew right then that this was exactly how it should be. You loved him. And he loved you.

“K-Kookie?” you stuttered your voice a higher pitch than usual. His thrusts were become more dynamic with every passing second, and yet never speeding past a pleasurable roll of his hips. He struggled to open his eyes and tear himself about from his paradise, but he did so, looking down into your eyes.

“Y-yeah, baby?” he huffed, his breath laboured and voice stifling another groan. He pressed his forehead to yours for stability, keeping his hazy eyes on yours.

“I… I love you, Kookie…” you cried against his lips, another tear escaping down the side of you face. He smiled then; an out of breath, exhausted and relieved kind of smile as he continued to roll his hips into you, having you whimpering as your bit down on your lip.

“I love you too, ____…” he grinned, his eyes fluttering closed, “Oh, fuck, I love you so much.”

You threaded your hands in his hair again, bringing his lips up to yours and colliding them in potentially the most passionate kiss of your damn life, moans and whimpers included. His hand slid between you, fingertips concentrating on coaxing a delightful and euphoric orgasm out of you with targeted strokes to your clit.

With a new level of ungodly satisfaction, you couldn’t control your lips anymore and broke the kiss, just holding him close to you with parted lips and moaning wantonly as your eyes rolled back. You’d never felt an orgasm approach so fast in all your life, never felt it hit you the way this did.

Your legs spasmed and shook in his grasp, hands tightening in his hair. Your moans caught in your throat, unable to move while every muscle contracted. You couldn’t be sure of it in the moment, but Jungkook sure noticed the way you clenched and gushed around him as you came. And with each contraction dragging against his length inside you and you finally delivering a loud and high pitched moan, you brought him to his edge too.

His hips slowed and stuttered as hot spurts of cum painted your walls, more than he ever had before. He tried to keep rolling his hips, to get every last bit of pleasure he could before exhaustion took over and he collapsed next to you, head buried in the crook of your neck and chest half laying on you.

Both of you were utterly drained of energy, breaths heavy and hot against the other’s bare skin. It felt incredible. It felt perfect. It felt just as it should.

It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours that passed by, both of you simply becoming comfortable laying in a heap of sweaty nudity – you simply didn’t care. You had Jungkook now, right here with you. And he loved you.

You weren’t sure of the time, nor did you mind, but the two of you fell asleep laid together that night. Jungkook had rolled onto his back, dragging you onto his chest and pulling the messy sheet up to cover you both. With one final drawn out kiss, the pair of you lay in peaceful contentment and drifted off.

*****

Next morning, you awoke to the sun streaming directly into your eyes; you hadn’t closed the drapes last night. Your groaned and turned away from it, stretching your limbs out onto the rest of the empty bed, and- wait, empty? No, no… Had you… had you dreamt your night with Jungkook? Had he left without a word? Did he regret what had happened?

You sat upright, clutching the sheets to your chest. You were still nude, your clothes still strewn about the place; but Jungkook’s were gone.

He must have just decided to leave.

A knock on your bedroom door drew your attention away from your sadness, and a rather smug looking Taehyung wondered in before you had the chance to turn him away. He sat at the end of your bed with his arms folded and a smile you grimaced at in disgust.

“Mooooooornin’,” he teased. You wanted to kick him off the bed.

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“See? Told you he liked you! Can’t tell me that that wasn’t Jungkook I saw you naked-cuddling with when I got in last night,” he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah, well I hope he had fun. He’s done a runner this morning,” you accused. Taehyung was about to object, when a key jingling by your front door sounded, the door opened and closed, and footsteps drew closer down the hallway. And then who should come into view, but none other than Jeon Jungkook sporting the outfit he had on last night and brandishing a brown paper bag with some rather ominous grease stains on, and two hot coffees in a holder. He must have stolen one of your hair ties, because most of his locks were back in a bun again save for the front pieces parted in the middle.

His face looked a picture; the deer in headlights cliché. His wide eyes darted between you and Tae, and all Tae did was smirk at you.

“Go away, Taehyung,” you flatlined, shooing him with a foot to his leg. He held his hands up in defeat and stood, walking past Jungkook and out into the hall.

Jungkook snapped out of his shock and confusion to put the coffees on your nightstand and the bag next to it. He sat down on the edge, turning slightly to face you.

“Hey, you,” he smiled, his eyes soft and adoring. He tucked a strand of your bed hair behind your ear, leaning forward to place a kiss to your forehead. You tucked your knees to your chest and smiled shyly.

“Thought you’d done a runner,” you joked.

“Could never do that to you. Just wanted to get you breakfast in bed; least I can do for making you think I was flirting with one of the sorority girls.”

“Oh, no it’s okay… I just…. Yeah, I don’t know,” you laughed at yourself, feeling pretty stupid for not even giving him a chance to push her away before you jumped to conclusions.

“Hey,” he said softly, shuffling closer to you. “I, uh… I haven’t even looked at another girl since I met you, _____. Never wanted to, I never noticed anyone but you…” he confessed, shyly looking down at a spec of fluff on your sheets.

“I can’t believe I had no idea… I didn’t even realise I liked you like that until Taehyung kinda let it slip…” you chuckled, fiddling with the ends of his hair dangling in his eyes.

“You’re welcome!” you heard Tae shout from the kitchen, clearly eavesdropping with your door still wide open. Jungkook stood up to shut it, just a little harder than average in response to Tae’s mischievous meddling and then came and sat back down beside you.

“Well, we have some lost time to make up for, then,” he smiled, leaning in for a gentle and purely loving kiss, lingering a few moments, just enjoying finally having each other. You pulled apart with a shy giggle. “But first, breakfast!” He leaned over to pick up the bag, unpacking the bagels and hash browns he’d picked up from the diner around the corner.

You watched him, just how cute and attentive he was being with you. He was the same Jungkook, always had been this way with you. But now, you knew why, and it all made sense. It all fit together.

“Yes, breakfast.”

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 265 “Keyhole”

So Golden Kamuy is back with a chapter that really make me...

...okay, I’m curious, very much so, really, I just can’t resist. I feel so called out watching Tsukishima and Koito trying to overhear what Tsurumi is going to say to Sofia and Asirpa...

Anyway, let’s start.

The covers shows us an image framed by a keyhole, a reference to the chapter’s title and to how some characters will spy from a keyhole and learn of Tsurumi’s past, because that’s what the image depicts, Tsurumi holding his baby while his wife hugs him from behind.

Tsurumi is basically wrapped in love, it’s clear is wife loves him and the way the baby rests against him, while perfectly normal for a baby, seems almost to suggest the baby too is hugging him.

It kind of reminds me a painting from Gustav Klimt, of which is often shown only a part of it, a woman hugging a child, as if it was meant to represent motherly love . The full painting is actually called ‘The three ages of a woman’ and features three women in varying stages of age, symbolizing the cycle of life.

This scene seems to leave out the old woman and paint Tsurumi in between the woman in the spring of her life, Fina, and at the beginning of it, Fina... but in a way symbolically Tsurumi can be ‘the old woman, which in the painting is in an aura by herself and with a desperate expression, who now gets finally included between the other two.

Tsurumi is the only one of the three who got to grow old and he’s clearly desperate for his loss. Sure, in the image he looks like his younger self, but the image is basically symbolizing how, through a keyhole, we’re looking at him talking about his past. The real Tsurumi that we would see if we were to look through the keyhole is older, alone and desperate... and in a way the younger Tsurumi shows a bit of this.

We can see the left corner of his mouth is up, but the same can’t be said for the right one. Even his eyebrows are slightly raised, in a bittersweet expression. This is not Hasegawa, this is Tsurumi remembering his beloved ones, this is Tsurumi remembering what being Hasegawa felt like, the joy of being with his family and the pain of having lost it.

But okay, enough with my speculations on the cover, let’s start with the story.

Kikuta, Tsukishima and Koito, who were sent out by Tsurumi with the excuse to check for the others discover that the soldiers who were on foot had reached the planned meeting spot but the same can’t be said for the three men on horseback (who were tailed by Hijikata).

Kikuta suggests to split and look for them, and Tsukishima tells Koito to stay there just in case the three of them will show up... which they won’t do as, below Tsukishima’s balloon we can see on image of the three of them lying on the ground, efficiently disposed off by Hijikata...

...who, however, is starting to show signs of his age as he’s panting and has some blood on his face, a sign it wasn’t an easy battle. Hijikata, joined by Ariko and Kantarou, plans to search for the 7th in order to get Asirpa back.

Meanwhile Sofia’s men plan to search for her.

Now... let’s go back a moment.

Remember how Kikuta told Koito and Tsukishima they should split and search for the men and Tsukishima told Koito to remain behind?

Well, this caused the three of them to go for separate ways, unsupervised by each other.

Koito, who has noticed how Tsurumi has reacted seeing the photo Sofia had, feels curiosity bubbling inside him and decides to go back into the church from a side entrance so as to spy on Tsurumi’s conversation only to discover Tsukishima had anticipated him and is now trying to peep from the keyhole.

Basically that was why Tsukishima told Koito he should stay back, so that Koito wouldn’t go with him and Tsukishima could freely spy Tsurumi.

Honestly I wonder if Kikuta too is taking care of a personal business, maybe not spying Tsurumi as he might already know of Tsurumi’s family, but it would explain why he told the others to split and wanted to go search for the riders when it was safer to assume they were killed and just give up on them. Or maybe Kikuta is the only one who’s doing actual work.

We’ll see.

Anyway Koito and Tsukishima show their maturity by arguing, each saying the other is there to spy Tsurumi because they don’t believe in him.

Koito though, tries to deny it, but Tsukishima, with a vein bulging as if he were quite angry, points out how Koito was now able to talk to Tsurumi normally...

and how this might be a sign that a distance grew between them in his heart. So okay, pot, I present you a kettle in denial. You do your best trying not to be a pot in denial as well.

Anyway Koito has no words to counter but, in that moment, they hear Tsurumi telling Nikaidou to go stand outside and keep everyone else away from the church then, as soon as Koito is out, Tsurumi checks the church AGAIN for intruders, forcing Tsukishima and Koito to comically hide under the desk, making really clear he doesn’t want anyone to hear the discussion he’ll have with Sofia.

I should probably mention Tsurumi’s face is always kept heavily shadowed... but if this is to keep his expression in the dark or Noda actually plans to redraw it for the volume version... well, this is up to speculation.

We’ve a flashback then, showing how Sofia, before exiting from Hasegawa’s house, spotted the photo of herself, Kiro and Wilk about to be burned and retrieved it. That’s why she still had it.

As the flashback ends Sofia wakes up to see Tsurumi seated on what seems to look like a clergy throne. She realizes her hands are tied (and she seems to hold something in her hand but maybe it’s just me)...

...and then notices Asirpa gagged next to her.

Tsurumi stands and removes Asirpa’s gag, warning her though to keep silent as he would prefer not to treat her roughly if he can help it.

We can see the gag, which was nothing else but her matanpushi, had left marks on Asirpa’s face as Tsurumi, who had placed it back around Asirpa’s forehead says it suits the brave and beloved child of the Ainu.

Overall Tsurumi seems gentle with Asirpa... if this is because she’s a child and it reminds him of his daughter (it’s an effect she had on Nihei as well) or he’s just pretending to win her favour... well, this is something we’ll discover in the future.

Tsurumi then comments he’s glad they could meet it again and the visual in this is very interesting as we basically see only his eyes since the lower part of his face is completely blackened and what little we can see of the upper part is covered in swirling lines that seems to hint to an emotional storm.

Giving his back to Sofia he also says he’s glad he could met her again which causes Sofia to ask him who’s him.

Tsurumi comments it’s no surprise she couldn’t recognize him as they had both changed and their previous meeting took place 18 years ago.

I’m a bit confused by this.

The official timeline says they met in 1891. 1891+18=1909

However the story started, always according to the official timeline, in 1907 and, supposedly, only one year went by, placing us in 1908. Have we... lost a year somehow?

Whatever, Tsurumi calls Sofia ‘Zoya’, showing her the photo but it still doesn’t ring any bell in Sofia. However, when he asks her if she has forgotten about his family too, commenting all their photo were burned that day and all that remains to prove they were alive are their finger bones. As he says so he shows two bones, one clearly belonging to Fina and the other so small it should have belonged to Olga.

As he mentions their names the visual shows how Tsukishima, who’s eavesdropping outside, connects them with the finger bones he saw in Tsurumi’s possession.

Those names ring a strong bell in Sofia as, with a shocked expression and panting (we can see the small clouds her breathing made around her, signifying she’s panting) she recognized him for Hasegawa-san.

It’s worth to remember Sofia always felt an intense guilt for Fina and Olga’s death, so her reaction is completely understandable. Those deaths in a way changed her life.

Tsurumi’s brain leaks as he thanks her for remembering them.

‘Oboete ite kurete arigatō’

憶えていてくれてありがとう

“Thank you for remembering”

Asirpa knows Hasegawa’s story as she was told about it by Kiro. Her interest though is for the people in the story as she asks Sofia if that picture portrays her father and Kiroranke and if it was taken in Russia.

Sofia seems still shocked and doesn’t reply.

Koito, hearing this, is surprised Tsurumi had a wife and a daughter. Tsukishima’s veins are popping out as if angry as he makes a sound of disbelief (はあ ‘haa?’) in a strained font.

He doesn’t seem positively impressed Tsurumi too had a past life and people he cared who might have influenced his choices. He possibly might have wanted Tsurumi to be solely attached and devoted to his men.

Tsurumi goes on, claiming after Kiro died they found some letters in his belonging, letters that he received from Sofia when they were writing each other while Sofia was in Akou prison.

Tsurumi suggests he and Sofia should join their knowledge together and tell Asirpa everything about who killed the Ainu and why Wilk had to die so as to taka away Asirpa’s ‘itami’ [傷み “Pain, grief, distress, damage”]. ‘Itami’ is actually in between brackets.

As he says so we see an image of Asirpa with a serious expression and an adult look.

It’s not the first time that, when the situation is serious, Noda depicts Asirpa as if she were older, her eyes slightly squeezed so as to take away the roundness that makes them look like the eyes of a child and her lips shadowed as if she were to wear lipstick.

And it’s such a sharp contrast with his words because the child he’s talking about doesn’t look like a child anymore because she’s forced in a situation that’s not fitting of a child and she will likely required to show a maturity a child normally doesn’t possess.

On a sidenote, as said before, Tsurumi has acted polite and ‘kind’ with Asirpa so far, but there’s to keep in mind in the volume version of chap 211 there was the implication Tsurumi came to believe it was Wilk who shot his wife and daughter.

Does he wants revenge on Wilk through Asirpa?

It doesn’t mean he necessarily have to want to kill Asirpa, he might want to ‘destroy’ Wilk as a father figure in her eyes and then take her as a replacement daughter. Wilk took his own child away so Tsurumi might take Asirpa in exchange.

And this might gain him Asirpa’s cooperation. Though, considering he planned to jail her in such a terrible place always in the volume version of chap 211, I really fear he doesn’t have nice intentions toward her.

I really, really hope things will go well for Asirpa, I don’t want her to be hurt... but I’ve to admit I’m also really, really, REALLY curious to hear what happened... hoping it’ll be the truth and not the result of Tsurumi manipulating information.

We’ll see.

It’s interesting Tsurumi said he and Sofia has to piece together what they know... as if he doesn’t have all the answers... which might mean he’s either lying or he wasn’t there when the Ainu were murdered.

I’ve always wondered, honestly. Murdering everyone wouldn’t get him any close to the gold, so it seemed weird he could have ordered to kill those Ainu. At the same time, unless Wilk chopped everyone down to disguise himself among the corpses, the damage done to them seemed the one that would be caused by an explosion.

We know Wilk didn’t do it and I honestly can’t think of Kiro doing it considering how reluctant he is at killing Ainu.

Did Tsurumi men attempted on doing something without him being present and things went wrong and everyone died but this caused Tsurumi not to know what happened?

I’ve always wondered if Ogata knew more than he let out... but he could have discovered things from either Kiro or Tsurumi so this isn’t telling us much.

Can it be that something happened that wasn’t caused by either Tsurumi or Wilk or Kiro, like other Ainu getting involved, fearing Wilk and the others would cause a war?

I’ve always liked to suspect Asirpa’s uncle but, of course, who knows?

Really, I can’t wait to know the truth!

...on a sidenote I wouldn't be surprised if Noda were to decide to keep us on hold a little longer and show us, in the next chapter, what's doing Sugimoto, or Ogata, or Hijikata. We'll see.

On another sidenote... even though I fear Tsurumi might hurt Asirpa... I feel really bad for him in this chapter. The pain for losing Fina and Olga should have been terrible, him being the only one to remember about their existence. In a way it should feel like a relief to get to meet Sofia, someone else who knew them and cared enough to keep on remembering them. ;_;

[fandom-pardes]

According to halacha, which actions are Azula liable for?

Reposted from my Tumblr.

One of my favorite ways to study Jewish texts is to take a fictional character or situation and examine it through the lens of Jewish text and tradition.

I’ve done this before with ABC’s Once Upon A Time. Now I’m going to take up this exercise again with Avatar: The Last Airbender.

Before I begin, a few things to keep in mind.

I’m not a Talmud scholar.

There is no definitive Jewish Opinion™ about any issue pertaining to halacha. Unanimous opinions on halacha are so rare that when we find one, we assume something went wrong in the process..

Azula is a morally polarizing character in AtLA fandom. Regardless of who you ask, you’re bound to get some strong opinions about exactly what she’s done, the extent to which she’s responsible for it, and what this says about her morality or lack thereof. I’m not going to rehash those arguments. I think I’ve made it clear that I care less about whether people approve of her behavior than I do about how their statements about her reinforce harmful messages about women, people of color, LGBT people and mentally ill people.

Nevertheless, she’s incredibly interesting, and studying Jewish text is fun, so here we are.

Why examine Azula’s actions through the lens of halacha?

Halacha gets a lot of flack because it comes off as excessively legalistic. But, in my opinion, that’s based on a misunderstanding of what halacha is. Usually translated as “Jewish law,” the word halacha actually comes from the root word that means “to go/walk.”

Halacha is not a collection of rules for the sake of having rules. It’s meant to take us somewhere. You can write a library of books about exactly what that is and what it means. But for the sake of simplicity, halacha is how we show that we recognize the holiness of everything in creation. So we aim to do right by one another, by the land we live in and by the creatures we share this world with.

Before we can launch into examining the halachic ramifications of the things Azula does, we need to establish some boundaries.

Only the show counts. It’s the common frame of reference universally accepted by the vast majority of fandom. Fandom’s stances on the comics, novelizations and other tie-in materials are too variable to base an analysis on.

Word of God is immaterial. While some would use the phrase Death of the Author, Jewish tradition has a more entertaining take on it. In the Talmud, there’s a dispute between Rabbi Eliezer and some of his peers. In that story, Rabbi Eliezer says that if he’s right, this or that miraculous thing would happen, and those miraculous things do happen. But the other rabbis still reject it because we don’t determine halacha by miraculous signs. Eventually, God parts the heavens and says, “Rabbi Eliezer is right.” But another rabbi responds, “The Torah is not in heaven,” meaning that the Torah was meant for human beings on earth to interpret for themselves. And God’s response? To smile and say, “My children have defeated Me.”

Now, let’s begin.

Is Azula bound by halacha?

She’s not Jewish, so no. However, all human beings are bound by the Noahide laws. For the sake of argument, let’s say that the Noahide covenant applies to all humans on all worlds. According to the Talmud (Sanhedrin 56a.24):

Since the halakhot of the descendants of Noah have been mentioned, a full discussion of the Noahide mitzvot is presented. The Sages taught in a baraita: The descendants of Noah, i.e., all of humanity, were commanded to observe seven mitzvot: The mitzva of establishing courts of judgment; and the prohibition against blessing, i.e., cursing, the name of God; and the prohibition of idol worship; and the prohibition against forbidden sexual relations; and the prohibition of bloodshed; and the prohibition of robbery; and the prohibition against eating a limb from a living animal.

What is Azula’s legal status?

In any case, we know the rules, and now we have to decide whether Azula broke them or not, right?

Not so fast.

First, we have to determine if Azula is of the appropriate legal status to be held accountable for upholding the Noahide laws. In other words: when she committed certain acts, was Azula an adult capable of making rational decisions?

Clear your mind of the idea that being an adult is the same as being a grownup. Instead, think of it as a term that defines when people can make legally binding decisions.

As far as I can tell, the Talmud doesn’t say when a gentile becomes an adult. However, we can use halacha as a guide.

Now for a warning.

If frank talk about the physical development of adolescents makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip this next part. There’s nothing graphic or titillating about what I’m going to discuss, but if breasts and pubic hair squick you out, skip this part until I say it’s safe in bold like this.

According to halacha, a girl reaches adulthood when she’s twelve years and one day old and has two pubic hairs. Yeah, you read that right. Twelve and two pubes are the requirement. Before this point, nothing she does is legally binding, even if she’s really smart and claims to be fully aware of what she’s doing. After this point, her actions are legally binding, even if she says she had no idea what she was doing.

On the show, we see Azula in a range of ages. In “Zuko Alone,” we see her at roughly eight years old. In “The Storm,” she’s about eleven. In all the other episodes she’s in, she’s fourteen. So, from a legal standpoint, flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding. At that point in time, the responsibility would fall to her parents.

Um, I’m not willing to speculate about the genitals of an underage cartoon character, so for the sake of argument, I’m assuming that 14-year-old Azula meets the two pubes requirement. Thus, 14-year-old Azula is responsible for her actions.

If you skipped that last part, it’s safe to continue now.

OK, we’ve established that flashback!Azula is too young for her actions to be legally binding, but in the main story, Azula is legally an adult and responsible for her actions.

We good? Alright.

Which Noahide laws does Azula actually break?

This is both easier and harder than it seems.

The laws about idol worship, cursing God, and forbidden sexual acts don’t apply to her because neither religion nor sex are portrayed as such on the show. Also, the law about establishing courts of justice is a communal obligation, not one that falls on a single individual, so that’s another one we don’t have to concern ourselves with.

That leaves the prohibitions against bloodshed, robbery and eating a limb cut from a living animal.

First up: bloodshed.

The connotation of the prohibition against bloodshed is not for general acts of violence, but actual murder.

Here’s where I think I’m going to throw a lot of people for a loop. Azula doesn’t kill anyone on the show. She tries. She comes close. She wouldn’t lose sleep over it if she did. But nobody’s dead because of her. She doesn’t even take lives as collateral damage.

One could argue that zapping Aang with lightning counts as killing, but when the Sages talk about death and dying, I assume they mean the kind where the dead stay dead, not people who are revived by magic spirit water. Furthermore, if someone’s about to kill you (and I think entering the Avatar State qualifies here), you are halachically obligated to save your own life, even if it means killing that person.

Second: robbery.

We’ll come back to that.

Third: eating a limb from a living animal.

This prohibition is often expanded to incorporate all forms of animal cruelty.

The show does portray animal cruelty. We see a prime example with the circus in “Appa’s Lost Days.”

But what about Azula? We don’t see her interact with many animals on the show, but there are two notable examples: Appa the sky bison in “Appa’s Lost Days” and Bosco the bear in “The Crossroads of Destiny.”

How does her behavior measure up? Despite her earlier behavior of terrorizing turtleducks, Azula does not harm either Appa or Bosco.

On the show, Mai and Ty Lee are seen spending time with Bosco in the throne room while the Earth King is imprisoned. So, at the very least, they treat the bear well.

So, Azula is not liable for animal cruelty.

*hands Azula her Not As Big A Jerk As She Could Have Been award*

Now, let’s revisit that prohibition against robbery.

Given the prescribed punishment (decapitation), the connotation seems to be taking the rightful property of another through violent means. That being said, the prohibition against robbery is often extended to include all sorts of theft.

This one might have some legs. On the show, does Azula take the rightful property of another, and does she use violent means to do so?

Absolutely.

A major example is stealing the clothes of the Kyoshi Warriors after defeating them in combat.

But!

The show takes place during a time of war, and the Kyoshi Warriors, as allies of the Avatar, are enemies of the Fire Nation. So does beating them up and taking their uniforms fall under the prohibition against robbery, or are the Kyoshi Warrior uniforms considered the spoils of war and thus free for the taking?

Halachically speaking, it might actually be the latter. When fighting the Kyoshi Warriors, Azula acts as a military commander during a time of war and achieves a decisive victory against an elite combat unit. Thus, she is entitled to take their stuff.

So, back to the original question: which actions does Azula commit during the show that she’s halachically liable for?

The answer, shockingly, may be: none.

On the show, we’re encouraged to think of Azula as a Very Bad Girl who does Very Bad Things. She’s calculating, ruthless and deceptive. She’s also full of herself. She’s not someone who inspires warm, fuzzy feelings in most people. But when you put her actions under the microscope, she exercises remarkable restraint compared to what she’s capable of.

Don’t worry. No one’s going to nominate her for a Nobel Peace Prize just yet. This is Azula we’re talking about. She’s not acting out of an overwhelming love for humanity. But it is interesting that despite her threats to kill, maim and destroy, she doesn’t participate in wanton destruction or wasteful loss of life.

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

(Accidental 150 Follower Special) IOTA’s Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (Part 2)

Here’s Part 1

#5: Glaciator

Here's a good lesson to teach these incredibly impressionable children watching: If you're not in a romantic relationship by the time you're a teenager, you're a loser! And if someone says they just want to be friends, ignore that obvious hint that they're not into you and keep trying to impress them.

Marinette joins her friends to get some ice cream sold by the worst ice cream vendor in the world, Andre. Like, they have to find out where he's going to set up through a series of clues, they don't get a choice to order the flavors they like (and that's not even taking allergies into consideration), and he only gives a single cone to a couple to share while going on and on about how he knows about who someone really loves, and oh my God, why is this man still in business?

Surprisingly, as dumb as it is for Andre to get akumatized over a single customer doubting his magic ice cream, he's not the reason this episode is on the list. That honor goes to Cat Noir.

At the beginning of the episode, Cat Noir drops the pretenses and asks Ladybug out on a date.

Cat Noir: What would you say if you and I met up tonight for a little dinner? Rooftop style?

Ladybug: For dinner? As superheroes?

Cat Noir: Well, yeah. That's right. We're only together when we're saving Paris. I mean, wouldn't you actually like to get to know one another?

Ladybug: I... That's so thoughtful of you, but I can't. I already have plans with some friends.

Cat Noir: Well, if your plans end early, come and join me.

Ladybug: We'll see.

Cat Noir: I'll be waiting, my lady.

Notice that Ladybug doesn't say that she's coming, and mentions that she already has plans. Even the irresponsible Plagg points this out.

Plagg:You seem in a hurry to get stood up.

Adrien: She didn't say she wasn't coming.

Plagg: But she didn't say she was either!

So when Ladybug obviously doesn't come, Cat Noir just decides to mope around, acting like he was left at the altar, and when they meet up to take on the titular Glaciator, Cat Noir gets all pissy that Ladybug didn't come.

Ladybug: Hello, Kitty. Did the bad guys leave you cold?

Cat Noir: (sounding like his staff got shoved up his ass) How was your amazing evening with your “friends”?

Again, Ladybug never said she was going to meet up with Cat Noir that night, because she had plans. Even later episodes like “Stormy Weather 2” claim that Ladybug stood up Cat Noir, when she DIDN'T! There was never anything set in stone, so Cat Noir can't say that Ladybug stood him up.

Even after the fight, when Ladybug tells Cat Noir that she only sees him as a friend, afterwards, Adrien still thinks he has a shot with her.

Adrien: Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Dude. Take. A. Goddamn. Hint.

As ironic as the circumstances are, Ladybug just said she isn't into Adrien, and he's still going to go after her. And spoiler alert, his attempts to woo her are only going to get worse from here.

Yeah, this episode is heavy on the romance, and the idealized vision of what the writers think being in a relationship is like. Admittedly, I have a more jaded view of romantic plotlines, as the only real relationship I had ended right before my senior year of high school, and it gave me serious trust issues as a result because of how badly it ended, so I don't want to consider myself an expert in relationships.

But at the same time, that breakup helped me learn to not prioritize being in a relationship, and just focus on self-improvement. If that was the lesson the episode was going for, I'd get it, but we never get anyone say that. All everyone in this episode talks about is how awesome being in love with someone is.

The fact that the audience is supposed to find Cat Noir's behavior charming is disgusting, and I can't believe that Astruc condones this kind of writing.

In addition to continuing the trend of making Cat Noir oblivious to the word “no”, This episode also managed to do the impossible and make me hate ice cream with a fiery passion.

#4: Copycat

This show is really bad with writing episodes about evil doppelgangers, and like with “Antibug”, it's about Ladybug getting blamed for something she had nothing to do with.

A statue of Ladybug and Cat Noir is being unveiled, but because Marinette is preoccupied with trying to make sure Adrien doesn't receive an embarrassing voicemail she accidentally sent him, she isn't able to attend the unveiling ceremony as Ladybug. So when the sculptor mentions he has feelings for Ladybug, Cat Noir says this:

Cat Noir: Hey, don't mean to burst your bubble, but you know, Ladybug and me, we're a thing, you know?

The Sculptor: Really?

Cat Noir: Yeah, we're like this (crosses his fingers to show how close they are).

This exchange is never mentioned in the episode ever again, despite being what gets the sculptor akumatized.

Copycat, the akumatized form of the sculptor, is a reused character model copy of Cat Noir, and so like every impostor storyline in every TV show ever made, the public immediately turns on Cat Noir when Copycat frames him to the point where the police try to arrest him.

In case you couldn't tell, once again, Cat Noir is a big part of why this episode is so awful. If his entitlement issues were actually brought to light and he learns to not act like he and Ladybug are meant to be, it would have worked. Instead, it's Ladybug who is blamed for Copycat happening. Seriously, Cat Noir gives Ladybug heat for not being at the statue unveiling, like it was her fault the sculptor was akumatized.

Even later on, when Ladybug has trouble telling the difference between the two cats, Cat Noir has the gall to say “Have I ever lied to you, Bugaboo?”

HEY! Shat Noir! Lying is the reason you're Public Enemy #1 right now! You have no right to act like Ladybug deserves your trust, especially after you lied about your relationship with her!

This episode was also a little... uncomfortable to watch for a reason. For point of reference, here is the sculptor before he got akumatized.

While I can't read your mind, I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that you, the reader, are thinking “How old is this man, exactly?”

For a while, people in the Miraculous fandom were a little creeped out by this man because the episode unintentionally made it look like this grown-ass man was in love with a teenage girl. It wasn't until March of 2020 that Astruc clarified his age.

But by then, the damage had been done, with some fan works, most notably Zoe-Oneesama's Scarlet Lady, calling his age into question (though ironically, the comic ended with the revelation that he is around the same age as the main cast about five months before Astruc's tweet).

The only thing this episode really accomplished was set the stage for Adrien's worst moments by showing how self-centered he can be, no matter how the show tries to portray his feelings for Ladybug.

#3: Ladybug (The Episode, Obviously)

This is where the Lila subplot comes to a head because Astruc didn't think it would make sense for Lila to play a part in the season finale, and it doesn't fail to disappoint... mostly because everyone had expectations so low, they've made their way to the Earth's core.

Lila frames Marinette for cheating on a test, stealing her grandmother's necklace, and pushing her down a flight of stairs (despite showing no visible injuries). Despite no investigation being launched, Marinette is immediately expelled from school with nobody believing her except Alya. Why is she suddenly on Marinette's side again, despite falling for Lila's lies so many times before, while reiterating that she's still her best friend? Because the plot says so.

And if the episode was about Alya investigating Lila and proving Marinette's innocence, it would have been okay, and could have led to some great character development for her.

Of course, that doesn't happen, as the idea of Marinette being expelled was that gripping of a plot, as the focus of the episode immediately shifts over to Hawkmoth attempting to create another army of Akumas like what he did in “Heroes' Day”... only for Nathalie's failing health to force him to abort the plan, making the entire moment pointless.

Instead, despite how dangerous it is to transform using the Peacock Miraculous, Nathalie becomes Mayura and creates another evil doppelganger of Ladybug. What is it with the writers and evil doppelgangers of the heroes? Did someone on the writing team really like the Spider-Man Clone Saga?

And when Cat Noir sees the doppelganger, well... I didn't mention a certain scene in “Puppeteer 2” because I felt it would be better to talk about it here.

During the battle with the pathetic wax statues, Cat Noir briefly lets his guard down around yet another evil doppelganger of Ladybug, this time, it's a wax statue being controlled by Puppeteer 2 (even though the way she talks is nothing like the way Puppeteer's minions talked because it was five-year-old girl doing the talking). The wax Ladybug goes in for a kiss, and Cat Noir almost lets her take his Miraculous if not for the wax smell giving it away, and not, you know, the complete 180 she took in terms of suddenly wanting to kiss him for no reason.

Okay, it's a little shaky, but Cat Noir still caught on. He'd never fall for a fake Ladybug just because she said she loved him, right?

Yes. He seriously took the side of the impostor all because of the sudden love confession. Just how MORONIC can one person be? If Caity Lotz randomly showed up at my doorstep and claimed she loved me, I wouldn't immediately start making out with her. I would want to know what the hell she's doing here, and why she suddenly declared her love for me.

But Cat Noir seriously falls for the fake Ladybug for the dumbest reason possible. He seriously doesn't think it's weird that Ladybug suddenly confessed her love for him?

And then Ladybug gets the charm that the fake Ladybug was created from, and suddenly, she's a good guy? Before we even get time to think about this, Mayura just erases the fake Ladybug from existence, and now we're supposed to feel bad that she's gone?

Even the expulsion subplot is easily resolved, as after an interesting scene with Adrien coercing Lila to confess in exchange for letting her model alongside her, Marinette is just let back into school with no difficulties. I mean, it's not like her parents would be pissed that their daughter was framed and possibly want to take legal action against the school, right?

And I have to reiterate, this is the last we see of Lila this season because Astruc thinks Chloe is far worse and deserves to be punished for working with Hawkmoth.

Between Marinette getting expelled, a second Scarletmoth attack, and the fake Ladybug, this episode just has too much going on, and it makes it incredibly hard to follow. If it was a two-parter, I think it could have been better paced, but from we got, it's just a mess of a poorly paced episode.

#2: Frozer

Wow, you probably didn't expect to see this episode on this list. I mean, everyone in the Miraculous fandom loves this episode!

Where should I even start? Maybe the scene from the trailer where Adrien reveals his identity to Ladybug... only for it to be a daydream. Because why would we actually want a reveal or have Adrien confess his feelings to Ladybug without the mask?

Yep, despite Ladybug saying that she only sees Cat Noir as a friend, as well as the fact that she loves someone else, he still can't help but try to make her fall for him. But don't worry, I'll get back to their relationship later on.

After that, Marinette agrees to come to the ice rink with Adrien so he isn't as nervous around Kagami, who is awful in this episode. Remember when Astruc elaborated on Kagami line telling Marinette to not hesitate as a warning to move her ass or Adrien was hers

Doesn't that just make everyone love Kagami as a character, and not as a forced love rival instead?

And this is the episode where the romance subplot in Miraculous Ladybug went from having an interesting concept with the Love Square, and turned it into a generic love triangle plotline thanks to Luka. I love Lukanette, but the whole love triangle only gives less time for the four sides of the Love Square to shine. It doesn't help that Marinette's conflicted feelings are brushed over so we can focus on the titular Frozer, who only gets three lines while akumatized.

And now back to the Whiny Cat Noir Show. For no reason, Cat Noir is suddenly all angry when he sees Ladybug, and just like in “Glaciator”, it's never acknowledged. Though at least here, Cat Noir admits that Ladybug's plan to defeat Frozer is right.

And then there's the ending, where it looks like Marinette is going to confess her feelings to Adrien... only for that to also be a daydream.

Hey, if any of the Miraculous Ladybug writers are reading this... STOP TEASING THE AUDIENCE LIKE THIS AND CUT THE BULLSHIT ALREADY!

This episode is proof that the romance subplot will just be drawn out even more, all while teasing the audience with potential confessions and reveals just to keep them hooked. And yet, it was only a taste of what the romance would be like in Season 3.

And even then, I still think one episode is worse than this.

#1: FELIX.

I hate this episode. It is among the worst episodes of any TV show I have ever seen. Not just for the writing, but for what it represents. Let's just say that like “Animaestro”, Astruc had a hand in the way this episode turned out, and unlike “Animaestro”, there was a big fallout on Twitter.

In fact, I'm sorry to keep leading you down the rabbit hole like this, but I think this episode deserves its own post. Or rather, its own posts.

For now, I'm going to work on the list of the best episodes to help me recover my sanity.

[recurring-polynya]

@trulytaka​ asked: um i’ve always dreamt about a tattoo artist!renji falling for a client AU. it’s okay if you can’t come up with anything, just a suggestion!

How is it even possible that I have never read a Tattoo Artist! Renji AU?? (If there is one, please, send it to me immediately). Anyway, I got way too enamored of this idea, this is not even remotely a drabble, it is 4400 words and it is incredibly self-indulgent, I am absolutely not sorry.

It takes place in America and everyone is Japanese-American, because I am way more comfortable writing about American tattoo culture. I have never actually read a Tattoo Artist AU, I don’t know how they are supposed to go, this is just based on my own experiences getting inked. It’s mostly a story about Rukia and Renji being incredible nerfballs, there are not nearly enough stories about Rukia being a nerfball around Renji.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

💀     🛹     💕

Izuru Kira found Renji Abarai in the break room, simultaneously trying to cram a burrito into his face and read a Hellboy comic. He was holding the comic open with his elbow in an attempt to avoid spilling guacamole on Abe Sapien.

“Your two o’clock is here,” Izuru informed his distinguished colleague.

“Oh, great!” Renji replied, creasing the foil wrapper into a spout so that he could pour the last of the salsa drippings into his mouth.

“She’s waiting in the consult room,” Izuru went on, watching Renji toss the crumpled foil ball across the room, completely missing the trash can. “Look, have you met her before? A Miss Kuchiki?”

“Just exchanged a few emails,” Renji replied, as he scrubbed his hands at the sink. “Why? Is she scary?”

“Not in the usual way of Abarai clients,” Izuru replied. “I was just… wondering if she was... in the right place.”

“Her request was very specific,” Renji replied, scooping up his comic and the manila folder underneath it. “In fact, I am quite proud of what I came up with for her.” He whipped the folder open.

Izuru stared at it for a moment. “That is so specific.”

“I honestly think this is one of the best tatts I have ever designed. I hope she’s a real weirdo, because not just anyone deserves a masterpiece of this caliber.”

“Mmm,” Izuru agreed. “Yeah. Anyway, if there’s been a, uh, miscommunication, see if you can just… redirect her. Both Momo and I are in today, okay?”

Renji scoffed and stuffed his comic in Izuru’s hand as he marched down the hall toward the consult room. A miscommunication. Renji wondered what was wrong with her. She was probably mousy and wore glasses. Izuru always assumed girls like that would rather have a sad poem about the sea or a sprig of herbs inked on her wrist (conveniently, his specialties). Plenty of mousy girls with glasses would rather rock some fangs or dripping daggers, in Renji’s professional experience.

“Knock knock!” he announced, as he slid the door open. He took one step into the room and stopped dead.

Rukia Kuchiki was not mousy. She did not wear glasses.

Renji didn’t know much about suits. He did not happen to own one himself. But he guessed that Rukia Kuchiki’s suit was expensive, in part because it fit her perfectly, despite her tiny frame. It was jet black, and didn’t have a single speck of lint or cat hair on it. Her perfectly manicured hands were folded neatly on top of her crossed legs. She was wearing very tall, very pointy heels. Their soles were bright red, which Renji had learned from television meant that they were super expensive. He realized that he probably shouldn’t be looking at her legs, even though they were very nice to look at. His eyes snapped up to her face, but that honestly wasn’t any better.

Renji wasn’t often attracted to women, but she had probably the most interesting face he had ever seen-- heart-shaped, with big, dark eyes, a sharp chin, the cutest little nose. Her make-up was subtle and professional, and her hair was swept up with a clip, although it must be fairly short, because a few pieces hung down in front of her ears, and a thick lock dangled between her eyes.

She looked like a mean lawyer from a movie, one that would drive a fancy sportscar like an act of violence. Scary, for sure. But not in the usual way of Abarai clients, who tended toward the large and beefy, not that sharp and sharklike.

That nose, though.

Suddenly, her face split into a big grin. “Hi,” she announced brightly. “I’m Rukia Kuchiki.” She had a deep voice, a very beautiful voice. “You must be Renji Abarai.” Her eyes flicked to his arms. “I mean, of course you are, who else would have those arms? They’re so cool.”

“My arms?” Renji said stupidly. “Are they… famous?”

Rukia’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, well, I follow you on Instagram, and you don’t have any pictures of your face, but your arms are in a lot of the shots and they’re, well, they’re kinda distinctive. Do you think, um, would you mind if I looked at them?”

Renji’s eyebrows shot up. It’s not like he wasn’t used to having his arms checked out, but most people were more… subtle about it. Oh, well, it was her dime. “I didn’t do them myself, obviously,” he pointed out, rolling up the sleeves of his t-shirt so she could see the baboon skull on his left shoulder. A skeletal arm traced down the rest of that arm, complete with an outline of his own hand bones. On the right side, a snake spine coiled around his bicep, ending with a hissing skull. “I mean, it was my design, but my friends-- the other three tattoo artists here-- all helped ink me up.” He plopped down in the chair that sat catty corner to the couch where Rukia was sitting, and held his arms out. “We’re sort of a full-service studio. I’m the skeletons and monsters guy. Izuru, the guy you met on desk duty today-- is good at calligraphy and watercolors and little, itty bitty tattoos. Momo is our nature girl, she specializes in flowers and animals, and she’s great with bright colors. The snake skull was all her. Shuuhei is really into classic tattoo art-- you need a hula girl or a heart with an arrow through it, he’s your man. He’s also incredibly talented at revamping old regret tattoos, there’s good money in that.”

“Mm,” Rukia agreed, finally tearing her eyes away from his forearms to look up at his face, and abruptly turned even pinker. A lot of people fantasized about getting a tattoo and then got a bad case of nerves when it was time to make the leap. Maybe all this was way out of her comfort zone. Renji was trying his best to be friendly and chatty, which usually helped, but he was not used to dealing with this class of lady. He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too familiar.

“Actually,” Rukia went on, pulling on her fingers nervously. “I picked this place specifically because of you. For your work, I mean. I’m kind of a big fan. I saw some of your paintings at an exhibition over at the Fine Arts College, and I just, you know, fell in love. I’d always thought I’d like to get a tattoo someday, and when I found out that you were a tattoo artist, I knew it had to be you. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, and I’m babbling and I’m really sorry, I’m just very excited.”

Renji blinked. “You’re not babbling,” he replied slowly. He was sort of hoping she might say some more things about how much she liked his art in her beautiful voice. “Wait, an exhibition at the art school? That must have been at least three years ago, when I was doing my MFA.”

“Er, right,” Rukia looked a little sheepish. “A friend of mine had some work in the same exhibit, you probably don’t know her. My favorite one of your paintings was the one with the Black Lagoon creatures eating hamburgers at a diner, but I also really liked the one that was like a huge monster with a big bone mask stalking through a city, the way you did the shadows was just incredible.”

That particular painting was currently wrapped in brown paper and stuffed behind Renji’s couch. His last boyfriend had told him it was “creepy.”

“Uh, glad you liked it,” Renji managed. “Who was your friend?”

“Her name is Inoue. Orihime Inoue.”

“Oh, the robot girl!” Renji exclaimed. “Er, I mean she drew robots. Constantly. For every assignment. I didn’t mean to imply she was… robotic. In any way.” Jeez, Abarai, pull it together, he chided himself. “Yeah, I remember her. I didn’t know her well, but she sure could draw some tight robots. Is, she, uh, doing well?”

“She’s doing storyboards for a stop-motion animation studio,” Rukia replied.

Renji smiled. “That sounds perfect for her.”

Rukia bit her bottom lip and Renji’s throat went dry.

“So, um, you said in your email that you would have a design for me to look at?”

Renji realized that he was gripping the folder like a doofus. “Right! I did a couple of variations,” he explained, passing it from one hand to the other. “But you explained the concept pretty clearly, and I’m really happy with how the first one came out. I mean, obviously, it’s your tattoo! Please give me any feedback you have, you won’t offend me, even if you hate it! Tattoo designs often take a few iterations, it’s very normal, don’t hold back.”

She was staring at him, those big eyes wide and sparkling. “Can I… see it?”

“Oh! Right!” He shoved the folder at her.

Rukia opened it up and gasped.

“I especially love the way you draw skeletons,” Rukia’s email had read. “Do you think you could tattoo a grim reaper doing a sick kickflip on a skateboard onto my outer bicep? I do lift, so I am pretty jacked, if that makes a difference.”

“It’s perfect,” Rukia sighed in a tiny voice.

“Um, in the first variation (that’s page 2) I added some sunglasses, and in the second one, the grim reaper is flipping the bird and also its head is on fire. I guess I thought that grim reapers should be gender neutral but now I’m wondering if you would have preferred more of a… lady grim reaper?” Renji yammered absently.

“Oh, no,” Rukia murmured softly, flipping through the pages. Renji wasn’t even sure she had listened to a word he had said. “These are amazing. I love the sunglasses, but I also like the way you put little flames in the eye sockets in the first one…” She waved a hand absently. “Oh, and don’t worry, I like a non-binary skeleton.”

A small problem had just occurred to Renji. “Hey, um, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I… may have overestimated the size of your arms.”

“Oh?” Rukia asked, and abruptly shucked off her expensive suit jacket. She was wearing a pale purple sleeveless silk blouse underneath. She held one arm out experimentally, and then flexed. The muscle definition on her bicep made Renji take an involuntary swallow, but the fact that she was wicked cut did not buy him much in the way of real estate.

“I’ll just shrink it down maybe 25%,” he reassured her. “I’ll have to simplify some of the detail on--”

“No,” Rukia frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. “Don’t do that.” She thought for a moment. “I’m not committed to having it on my arm.” She uncrossed her legs and hefted one high-heeled foot onto the coffee table in front of her. “What do you think? Is my thigh big enough?”

Renji tried to make words come out, but it just wasn’t happening.

“Er… sorry,” Rukia said slowly, tugging at her hem. “I forgot I was wearing a skirt today.”

“Huh?” Renji scrambled to recover. He needed to say something. She looked really embarrassed. Say something! Say something professional about her leg! “Sorry, I was, uh, thinking!” Good, good, now keep going. “Don’t be self-conscious, I see people’s bodies all the time. Bodies are no big deal, we all got ‘em, right?” This was true in the abstract sense, but he knew these were blatant lies as they exited his mouth. Most people’s bodies were no big deal. He had only known her for five minutes, but was certain that Rukia Kuchiki’s thighs were a very big deal. He studied her leg, stroking his chin, like he was some kind of anthropologist of thigh tattoos. Mostly he was trying to figure out what would seem like an appropriate amount of time to look at a person’s thigh, a person who was your professional client that you most definitely did not have the hots for. “There’s certainly plenty of room,” he declared. “But, you know, people are going to see it less. Which is a selling point for some people! It’s just a personal decision that you’ll have to make. It sounds like you had a big vision.”

Rukia gingerly placed her foot back on the floor. “I had actually been wondering if maybe the upper arm was too public, anyway,” she admitted. “The fact is, I just got full access to my trust fund, and this is sort of a celebration, but I may have been a little overeager to piss off my big brother. He’s very stodgy.” She contemplated the area of her leg that was covered by her pencil skirt. “But so are a lot of people in my field. I can wait until I’m running my own company before I get started on the full sleeve of my dreams, right?”

“Worked for me,” Renji replied, utterly lost by whatever she was talking about. “What… field are you in?”

“Oh, finance,” she dismissed.

Finance. Of course. Renji tried to shoo away the weight of disappointment that was settling in his stomach. He was talking to a friendly client who was clearly loaded, loved his work, and was contemplating thousands of dollars worth of future business. He should be thrilled. He should probably be trying to sell her one of his old paintings-- they were only gathering dust, anyway. Renji would never break the studio policy about hitting on clients. The fact that she would surely laugh at him if he asked her to his favorite burger joint ought to make things easier, right?

“This is so hard!” Rukia declared, and Renji was shaken from his reverie. She was just contemplating his draft designs again, though, flipping back and forth between them.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he reassured her. “You can think about it and email me. If you’re happy enough, we can schedule your session, and we’ll work out the details between now and then. Chat it over with your pal MechaHime, she’s got good opinions.” He paused. Momo always said he was too nice during consults, they were running a business, but he couldn’t help it. “Or you can just call back when you’re ready. No pressure.”

Rukia slammed her fist down on her knee. “No! Let’s schedule it! Do I pay now?”

“20% deposit. Let’s go out front, Izuru will ring it up.”

“Perfect.” She looked longingly at the drawings again. “Can I take these with me? You’re absolutely right, Orihime will know what to do.”

Renji wrinkled his nose. “It’s actually against studio policy but…”

Rukia’s face suddenly became very serious. “Then it’s against policy.” She winked at him and smiled. “You should take care of your intellectual property, Mr. Abarai.”

“I never get over to this part of town, to be honest,” Rukia admitted as they walked back up to the front. “Is the taco place across the street any good?”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great,” Renji agreed. “Momo and I painted a huge mural on their wall, so they give us free churros.”

“Are tacos a good post-tattoo celebratory meal?” Rukia asked curiously.

“Well, you actually want to eat beforehand,” Renji pointed out. “It’s important to keep your energy up. I don’t estimate yours should take very long, I’m gonna book you a two-hour slot.”

“Ah, okay,” Rukia agreed, and Renji realized belatedly that...maybe… she had been asking him out? No. Surely not. His brain scrabbled for a response, but then he stepped into the reception area and his brain shut down entirely.

“It’s DONE!” Shuuhei bellowed. “Behold my work, ye mighty, and despair!”

Tetsuzaemon Iba, serial client, yakuza enthusiast, and assistant manager at a doggie day care, was flexing. He was not wearing a shirt.

From behind the reception desk, Kira was wearing a dour frown and shaking his head.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Renji declared. “I admit I was skeptical, but it looks fantastic, man. You happy with it?”

“It” was a massive tattoo, covering the wide landscape of Iba’s broad back. It featured a lucky cat, grinning maniacally, its paw held high. It was on fire. The kanji for “lucky charm” was incorporated somehow. It was a disaster. It was perfect.

“How could I not be?” Iba boomed.

“Whoa,” a tiny voice behind Renji said.

Iba’s face went pale when he realized that he was being Peak Iba in front of an elegant, professional woman whose shoes probably cost more than his entire net worth. “Gimme me my shirt!” he demanded of Shuuhei.

“That’s… amazing!” Rukia exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Wow, how long did that take?”

Shuuhei blinked slowly as he passed Iba his shirt. “Five sessions.”

“Well, it’s so cute!” Rukia announced. “You must love cats.”

Iba lifted at the same gym as Renji and watched Momo’s Pomeranian on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was a regular fixture at the tattoo studio, and all four of them liked to drag him, but no one, none of them, had ever roasted him this hard. Renji cursed that no-asking-out-clients rule, because he wanted to buy Rukia Kuchiki her own body weight in tacos and then ask her to be his wife.

“He’s more of a dog person,” Shuuhei supplied.

“Great with dogs,” Izuru added.

“Shut up, you jerks, I am a lover of all animals,” Iba grumbled as he pulled his Hawaiian shirt over his shoulders. “Is this your lawyer, Abarai? Did you finally get arrested for that hairstyle?”

“I have an MBA, actually, not a JD,” Rukia replied matter-of-factly. “And I am his client. Can you show that large man my tattoo design? Is that allowed?”

Renji chuckled, and pulled out his drawing.

“That,” Iba declared, “is a wicked tatt.”

“Oh, you showed me that email!” Shuuhei recalled. “It came out great.” He regarded Rukia. “He was really excited about that one, you made his day.”

Rukia just beamed proudly.

“Are we booking a session, then?” Izuru asked hopefully.

“Yeah, two hours,” Renji nodded.

“Let me just finish ringing up Iba, and I’ll see when you’ve got an opening,” Izuru replied.

“This your first one?” Shuuhei asked Rukia conversationally.

“Mm-hmm,” Rukia nodded.

“Well, you made a good choice. Clean design, mostly black with just a few color pops, should go on quick and easy, and it’ll hold up really well, too.”

“This is Shuuhei, the one I was telling you about, who fixes a lot of bad tattoos.”

“I have never had to fix an Abarai tattoo,” Shuuhei declared. “He’s great with first timers. Very gentle. I’ve fallen asleep while he was inking me.” Shuuhei pointed to the pair of crossed scythes gracing his upper arm. “This is one of his.”

“Oooh, neat!” Rukia agreed.

“You’re being embarrassing,” Renji informed his friend.

“Always,” Shuuhei agreed. “Nice to meet you! I hope I get to see the finished product.” He waved to Iba as he headed off toward the back. “Don’t forget to moisturize!”

“Everyone’s so friendly here,” Rukia said softly to Renji. “This isn’t at all like I pictured it.”

Renji stretched his arms behind his head. “Nah, we’re just a bunch of goofballs who like drawin’ on people. Very lowkey.”

“I guess I’ve thought a lot about the getting tattooed part of getting tattooed, but I never thought of it as… a job. That people have.”

“It’s a great job,” Renji replied. “I love it. I’m just lucky that Izuru over there has enough business sense to keep the other three of us from running it into the ground.”

“That’s certainly the truth,” Izuru agreed, as Iba headed out the door. “Two hours, you said? Renji’s got a 4-6pm block open on a Wednesday, three weeks from now. The 24th, how does that work for you, Ms. Kuchiki?”

“Do you think that’s enough time to settle on a design?” Renji asked. “If you come up with changes, it should only take me a day or two to incorporate them.”

“Oh! Yes, three weeks should be fine. I thought… it might be a little sooner,” Rukia replied, sounding a tad disappointed.

“Abarai’s a busy man, three weeks is actually pretty quick,” Izuru explained.

“Right, of course!” Rukia nodded. “Yes, I’ll take the 24th!”

She then paid her deposit, a process which involved her taking approximately ten thousand items out of her purse, including a full-sized drawing pad, a single fingerless glove, and a Pez dispenser with a duck head. She was the most contradictory person Renji had ever met, and he just wanted to know everything about her. But instead, they were going to exchange a couple of emails about a grim reaper on a skateboard, he was going to spend an hour and a half two inches from her naked thigh in a state of intense, non-sexual concentration, and then he would likely never see her again.

“Okay, I guess that’s it!” Rukia said, stuffing the last of her worldly belongings back into the purse. “Three weeks, then!”

“Three weeks it is,” Renji agreed. “Unless we happen to run into each other at the taco place.”

Rukia blinked. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Right. Ha, ha, of course!” She’d been walking backwards toward the door, an impressive feat in those heels, and she spun suddenly to pull it open.

“It’s a push,” Renji and Izuru chorused together.

“Ha, ha, of course it is!” Rukia laughed nervously, and ducked out.

Izuru stared pointedly at Renji. “Wow,” he said.

“I don’t know what you have against her,” Renji scowled. “So she’s professional. She was really nice. She’s a big fan of my work.”

Izuru cocked his head. “She’s clearly also a big fan of you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Renji said.

“Look, I’m sorry I implied that a person who drives a Lotus Exige would not be interested in having your weird skeleton doodles permanently placed on her body,” Izuru held up his hands, “but did you really not notice the little hearts and singing birds floating around her head every time she gazed longingly at you?”

“Since when do you know anything about cars?” Renji snapped.

“It looked fancy and I asked Shuuhei what it was, okay!”

On cue, Shuuhei burst back into the reception area, Momo close on his tail. “Are we talking about the hot client who has a crush on Abarai?”

“Did you ask her out?” Momo asked breathlessly.

“She’s not really his type,” Izuru mused. “Very corporate.”

Renji frowned. Did he have a type? If his type excluded people like Rukia Kuchiki, he might need to get a new type.

“Who cares, she was adorable!” Momo insisted. “I woulda asked her out.”

“Renji, if you go out with her, can you get me a ride in the Exige?” Shuuhei added.

“I’m not gonna ask her out!” Renji protested. “What happened to the no-hitting-on-clients rule?”

“The rule is no creeping on clients,” Shuuhei correctly. “This is different. She’s clearly into you, big time.”

“Also, she seems non-terrible, unlike the questionable human beings you usually take up with,” Izuru pointed out. “We could relax the rule if it netted you an actually decent partner for a change.”

Renji scowled judgmentally at Izuru, as if his own dating history had been remotely better before he and Shuuhei finally hooked up.

“Oh!” Momo waved her phone. “Speaking of which, I googled her, like you told me to, Izuru--”

“Izuru!” Renji protested.

“--and you were right! She’s not just one of the Kuchikis, she’s the granddaughter!” Momo thrust her phone in Renji’s face. It was some article about some fancy charity event, complete with a picture that was clearly Rukia, dressed in a dramatic black and gold evening gown.

Renji wanted to push Momo’s hand away, but he also didn’t want to stop looking at Rukia in that dress. “The who?” he asked.

Izuru and Momo sighed dramatically in synchronized exasperation.

“Embarrassingly rich old money family? I don’t know what they actually do, but they’re always in the newspapers, donating money for something or other--”

“Billionaire philanthropists,” Shuuhei intoned in a fake deep voice.

“--I heard they’re descended from some famous clan of samurai back in Japan,” Momo ignored him. She jerked her phone back and started tapping at it frantically. “I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the grandson-- Rukia’s brother, I guess. He always makes those lists of top ten hottest bachelors.”

“He’s dreamy,” Shuuhei seconded.

“Impossibly dreamy,” Izuru thirded.

Momo flipped her phone around again, to reveal a picture of a very serious, and very handsome man in a classic three-piece wool suit. Renji supposed “impossibly dreamy” was not an inaccurate description.

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen pictures of that guy before,” Renji shrugged. “He’s okay. Rukia has a more interesting face, I think.”

Momo and Shuuhei exchanged raised eyebrows.

“You do like her, then?” Izuru asked, his face brightening. “You’re wrong, by the way, Byakuya Kuchiki has the face of an angel.”

“Rukia says he’s stuffy,” Renji shrugged. “And fine. I like her. She’s cute and nice and had good taste in tattoos. What’s not to like?”

“Are you gonna ask her out, then?” Momo pressed.

“Absolutely not,” Renji replied. “She’s my client. Besides, as you just pointed out, she’s loaded. What’s she want with a scumbag like me?”

All three of his friends groaned.

“You have good delts and sexy hair,” Izuru pointed out.

“You give amazing hugs!” Momo declared.

“You draw fantastic skeletons,” Shuuhei added. “Which, apparently, is relevant to her interests, and not a thing you usually find on Tindr.”

“Also, we’ve already established that she does like you, regardless of whether she has a valid reason for doing so,” Izuru concluded. “So, if you’re at all interested, you really shouldn’t let that stop you.”

“I think you should go for it,” Momo encouraged.

“Me, too,” Shuuhei agreed.

Renji grimaced. She was an amazing girl, too good to be true probably. If she had any sense at all, she would certainly turn him down. But maybe… just maybe… she didn’t have any sense. “Okay,” he grudgingly agreed. “I’ll do it. But not until I’m finished the damn tattoo!”