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burningcowboyhoagietaco · 3 years

Text

A Way to Learn a Lesson

written by:

@burningcowboyhoagietaco

illustrated and edited by the amazing, the one and only:

@lenle-g

Before I publish the story id like to thank @lenle-g from the bottom of my heart for being patient with me, being nice to me the whole time, and for making my story even better and more exciting. Without her I would have stayed in my normal, not that good English story. so thank you for everything!!! <3<3

And here's my part at @tagminibang submission:)

☆☆☆☆☆

Scott, no!!! No way! I am not going to give any lectures to anyone." John's voice comes out tight. "Especially not in front of a crowd. No way."

"Why not?" Scott raises a brow, his voice honeyed with ‘big brother wants something’. "It's not like you're gonna get executed by some children just for talking space at them, right? You love talking about space. It's all I've heard since you were, like, seven."

"No, that's not it." There's a sharp shake of the ginger’s head, "Scott, come on!" John knows for a fact that his oldest brother knows he's the most socially awkward person to have ever lived on Tracy Island (and maybe the entire planet). "You’ve lived with me long enough to know how much I hate social.... anything." John complains. "Why would you ever think I'd want to do this?""

"Well, yes, I know that," Scott shrugs, "I've seen that look you get on your face when there's a lot of people around." He’s well aware that his brother is an introvert who hates socializing with anyone, so he quickly changes the subject to try and make his younger brother feel a little more at ease. "But hey... everyone knows how much you like it when anyone talks about space or anything about astronomy. You'd be amazing at it."

"That's a different thing." John says flatly. Flattery, it seems, wont get Scott very far. "It's like, whenever you guys ask me anything about space, I like to answer them for you, but from random people…? And in huge crowds? I just simply can't." Surely he doesn’t have to explain himself much more than that?

"Oh trust me, everything is going to be fine." Scott was a flippant hand around, talking without really thinking, because all he wants is for his brother to get out of Thunderbird 5, to visit Earth for a little bit, to mingle with people a little. It can't be that bad. "If anything happens, Gordon and Alan'll be in Thunderbird Five doing Space Monitor duty, me and Virgil are gonna keep an eye on everything, and you’re in safe hands with Lady Penelope and Parker. It's all set up, so please go have some fun for once and teach the children something cool."

"My answer is still no." John says persistently, without hesitation. He's pretty sure it'd be worse than being in the middle of a hurricane, or testing one of his Grandma's new cooking experiments. It’s lucky Scott misses his involuntary shudder.

Scott, though, is so done with him at this point, that he's pretty sure there's no choice but to use plan b and hope that that works instead on his unwilling, stubborn, red haired brother. They've got to get him down from orbit and to that lecture somehow. Scott's just not going to stand for anything else.

"Are you sure that's your last answer?" Scott asks, with a heavy sigh, already planning the best way to call in the big guns.

"Yes," John scowls, arms folded. "Yes, it is."

They'll see about that.

...

"Is everything ready?" John adjusts his sleeves, smoothing down his vest and putting the last touches on his collar. Neat, simple, formal. Can't go wrong. "My presentation papers, laptop, and my mini simple dimple?”

"Yes, all in the bag." Scott calls back, rapidly checking everything, "But do you really need that little fidget thing of yours?" He picks his younger brother's old toy up between forefinger and thumb to examine it, remembering the day John made their Mom buy it for when he gets stressed.

"What fidge- oh, yes I need it." The look on John's face leaves no doubt about that. "I've used it ever since Mom bought it for me."

"Hey… Mom would've been proud of you, you know?” Scott tells him, in a quick flash of brotherly pride. “For, you know, going out of your safe zone for a little while and teaching the children and all that."

"Yeah, I know…" John finds him a nervous smile, "But I'm not doing this voluntarily, you've forced me with that plan b of yours."

The second John says that Scott's cheeks dimple, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he grins victoriously, his teeth a bright white in the earliest rays of morning sun.

“All I had to do was make a call." He shrugs, "Lady Penelope did all the talking and somehow convinced you to go." Scott got a little more excited. He took a couple of steps forward, slightly standing on his toes reaching John's level asking"How did she convince you?" Clearly waiting teasingly for an answer to come out of John's lips

"Huhhhh." John exhales loudly, a little despairing. "She promised me we'd go to the Pagasa Astronomical Observatory after I finish the lecture with the children." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down, embarrassed.

"The what now?" Scott stares at him, thoroughly confused.

"The Pagasa Astronomical Observatory in the Philippines.” John says, like that was obvious, “It's equipped with a 45-cm computer-based telescope. It's so powerful that astronomers and astronomy enthusiasts can now conduct effective observations of stellar bodies and other distant space objects! Scott, it’s been my dream to go since I was, like, 17."

Scott always knew how much of an astrophile his younger brother is; he never cared about his physical appearance, nor his poor eating habits and he always used to make excuses to read his books alone, yet no one has ever interfered in his personal life.

"Okay okay space lover boy,” Scott grins at him. He'd expected Penny to be persuasive, but resigning herself to hours stuck with John in full excited-about-space mode would hardly be in his top ten. Either he's gonna owe her one, or Penny's more resilient than him. “You can go, no one is holding you back."

The short silence between them was broken by a ringing sound from a nearby table, which John answers.

“...Mhm, yes? Oh, the lecture." It must be Penelope calling, "Yeah, I'm ready, I'll head out now." John grabs his bag, wandering toward where the FAB1 must already be idling on the Tracy runway. "Time to go."

"Mhm,” Scott makes an agreeable noise, watching him go. “Please stay safe and please don't make an idiot of yourself." He's teasing… mostly.

"Yeah yeah," John waves at him over his shoulder, not even looking back. "I won't."

…

"Are we there yet?" Despite the consistently amazing views out of FAB1’s windows during the flight, John’s found himself mostly looking down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s worrying, just a little, about what awaits him in the Philippines - a whole different tropical island to his own, though still in the South of the Pacific Ocean.

"Just give Parker ten more minutes, darling,” Her Ladyship smiles at him, “We'll arrive in no time."

There’s a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, it’s broken by a call flashing up from, of all places, Thunderbird Five. There’s a prickly sense of discomfort as John realises that, of course, it’s not him calling. Gordon must be trying to reach them.

"Heeeeey Lady Penelope,” The kid greets, as Penny flicks it on, seemingly a lot less bothered by the change than he is. “Oh, and Mr. Tracy.” There’s a huge smirk on his face. “How's our newest teacher holding up?"

"Firstly, my name is John.” John points out, flatly, “Second, I'm not your teacher so please don’t call me Mr. Tracy ever again. Thirdly…” He concedes, quirking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I'm good for now, but fourth… How are you holding up, up there in my Thunderbird? She’s not much like Four, is she?"

"Ooooooooo that's a good question,” Gordon looks half like he’s considering it, half like he’s really missing his own ‘bird. “I'm holding up pretty well thanks to Alan. He’s taken all the Monitor duty stuff, so all I gotta do is keep an eye on you guys." He sounds a bit… sarcastic about that. “It’s pretty boring, honestly. How do you survive up here without a pool?”

"Young Master Gordon, are you quite done talking?" Parker glances, unimpressed, at the little floating hologram of John’s brother in his rearview mirror, "Because we're about to arrive at our destination."

"Huh… oh yeah,” Gordon doesn’t seem too bothered about that, but he waves merrily at them all the same, “Okay bye and John, please have fun, you too Lady Penelope, okay bye guys."

It’s only a few moments later that Parker opens his mouth to tell them that they’ve arrived at Chino Roque Theater, pulling up out front to let them both climb out.

John's eyes widen: it’s nothing like what he saw on the internet. It was more enormous, more luminous, more spectacular than anything he’d seen or read online. All he remembers reading is that it's a sphere shaped building located in the Philippines, in Anilao Hill, but the pictures on the webpage didn’t do it justice like being there in person does.

The building was smooth and round; the auditorium shaped like a massive egg nestled in amongst the other buildings. They were early enough that the sun was just cresting the horizon, colouring the sky with reds and oranges, visible through the geometric front of the building - where giant triangles of glass intersect together to give the people inside an amazing view of the sky at night.

"M'lady, you and John can go ahead. I'll park FAB 1." Parker said, before going to the parking lot - unaware just how tiring and long his journey to find a place to park is going to be.

They both head inside the building, admiring the sweeping glass fractals of the roof high above them. It’s incredibly beautiful, really a feat of engineering. So much so, that John almost forgets why he’s even there, until he spots a couple of buses arriving on the other side of the building, and the panic sets in. He was expecting to be a little bit anxious, but this feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He presses a hand hard against it, trying to calm his racing pulse and stop the sudden shake of his fingers, and Penny must notice, because a little hand settles, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"Hey John," Lady Penelope looks him steadily in the eye, projecting warmth and reassurance. "They're just a small, mixed group of children and teens. They can’t possibly hurt you, now can they? They just came to have a small lecture because all of them like space and astronomy just like you. Imagine yourself at their age, meeting a real life astronaut.” John tries very hard not to remind her who, exactly, his Father was, as she goes on - trying to visualise being a kid that didn’t get ‘take your son to work days’ at NASA’. It’s a pretty horrifying concept. “Most importantly,” Penny adds, “it's only for an hour or so, so you don't need to worry so much." She had to smile just to reassure him. “You’ll have filled their heads with space facts and be out before you know it.”

"O-okay,” John takes a deep, steadying breath, “I don't know if I'm supposed to trust you on this, or whatever, but I really don't have any other choice." He also wants to add that they forced him to go, but at the last second he remembers that they never forced him - he agreed to go because Lady Penelope promised him a trip to the observatory.

It seems like a pretty weak reason, now that he’s outside the stage door, knees shaking.

"Mhm, I think it's time to go inside.” She nudges him callously in the right direction, and John’s palms meeting the solid metal of the double doors is the only thing that keeps him from following gravity’s call and landing on his face. “Again, if anything happens, I'll be at the back of the room and I have a plan b if things get too much." John, pretty shocked by just how many plan b's the Lady Penelope might have prepared for the day, can only shake his head, bemused. “So stop worrying and get out there!”

She vanishes off into the atrium, and John can’t help the loud exhale that escapes his mouth before he musters up all the courage he can, and enters the room.

Bright lights startle him for a moment, and he’s pretty sure he does an awful, awkward impression of a blind baby giraffe as he stumbles out onto the stage and freezes as he notices the first smatterings of audience are already taking their seats.

The moment he placed his foot on the smooth wooden floor, his heart had started to beat faster, his hands began to sweat, the more steps he took forward the more he felt anxious. It was, he’ll think later, one of the toughest moments of his life, and he’s been to space. Multiple times.

Come on John. He tries to straighten up, shake off his anxiety, This can’t go worse than your first EVA.

Taking another deep breath, John waits patiently for all the attendees to take a seat inside the room. Waiting doesn’t help his anxiety levels at all, and he can feel them increasing by the second, but, determined, John doesn’t let it stop him from starting his lecture.

"H-Hello everybody,” He starts, incredibly conscious of the hushed silence that falls across his audience. “I'm John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons,” he rattles off his credentials, his nerves almost blurring them together, “I worked with NASA as an astronaut for three years before going… uh… solo in my astronomical studies, and I'll be your guest lecturer for the day.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, as a ripple of hushed oohhhs and ahhhs goes through the crowd. John’s pretty sure his face has gone bright red. “Thank you for having me at the Chino Roque Theater,” He goes on, before his embarrassment can bet the better of him, “I hope everyone’s had an amazing day so far. We'll be spending the next hour or so talking about astronomy and space physics, so shall we get started?" John thought it was a good opening, and yet his back was really wet from all the people's eyes on him. Glancing offstage, Penelope throws him a thumbs up, and he feels a little better.

"Um,” He blinks. “So does anyone here know how old the universe is?" John ventures, only to be surprised as almost everyone answers at once;

"Almost 13.8 billion years!"

"Yes,” The edge of a smile works its way onto John’s face. Clearly this was going to be a shout out the answer kind of lecture. He can work with that. “That's correct, now does anyone know how the universe started?"

"The Big Bang!" Most of them answer, and John feels a surge of relief. These guys really are into space.

"Okay, okay, not bad at all." He nods affirmatively at them, and the screen behind him lights up with an artist’s rendition of the Big Bang happening. "Now if I were to go and search ‘how old is the universe’ in, say, Google, the answer would be 13,772 billion years. It’d be the same thing if we looked at NASA, or even Wikipedia - so how did people get to know the age of the universe? How do you even start calculating something that old? Well I'm going to explain it for you in two ways: the good, nice way, and the kinda not that good and not that scientific way." There’s a bit of an awkward pause as John wonders whether or not he’s explained that well. When only silence greets him, he very quickly realises he needs to press on.

"So, uh, the good way.” He folds his fingers together behind his back, trying to resist the urge to fidget. “Well, in the middle of the previous century, as telescopes developed, we noticed something strange. We found that stars in very distant galaxies tend to look red… Umm, which is something that’s not supposed to happen.” A chuckle escapes John and, to his relief, the audience laughs with him. Scott never gets his space jokes. “So why’s that?” He asks, “See, if a chemical element gains or loses energy it’ll emit light in certain frequencies, thereby creating certain colors.” A small movement of his hand signals the slide to change, and a picture of the visible section of the electromagnetic spectrum appears, colouring the room with rainbow light. “For example,” John goes on, bathed in blue and violet, “Consider something like… a desk lamp, as like an element. If you give a lamp electrical energy, it’ll release that energy in the form of heat and light, yeah?" There’s a murmur of uncertain understanding in the room. “Electricity goes in, the bulb gets hot, and it gives off light. Well, we know stars do pretty much the same thing - only powered by nuclear fusion rather than a nine volt plug.”

"From studies of the sun and stars that are near Earth, we know that they’re made of helium and hydrogen, yes?” There’s another murmur of agreement in John’s crowd, “Well, hydrogen and helium can create red light, but they don't have the ability to create these shades of red that we see in deep space." The slide behind John clicks to a comparison of the two shades, on two different stars - making the difference clear.

"So, if stars are made of helium and hydrogen then why do distant stars have different colours? Are their compositions different?uh, well It’s possible, but not likely. The strongest explanation is that the color difference is due to the movement of the stars." The room gives a soft gasp at this news, and John knows he’s onto something good.

"So there's something called the redshift and blueshift phenomenon that says that if an object radiates light and approaches you, the color of the light begins to turn blue, and if the object is moving away from you, the color will turn red. This happens because the wavelength of light contracts and expands with movement meaning that something stretching equals red and contraction equals blue."

"And the strange thing is,” John adds, his audience listening raptly, “That most, if not all, stars show the same behavior, so, if we think about it, if all stars are moving away from us, that means that they were close to us at some point, and if we follow their path, we find that everything in space meets at a point named ‘singularity’."

"It was believed, in the past, that everything in the universe, or at least in the visible part that we have observed, that is to say,” John flicks to a graphic on his next slide. “All the galaxies, planets and stars, were all gathered at one point - the singularity. The theory is that this point exploded in what we call the ‘Big Bang’, and from that time onward, the universe has been in constant expansion.”

"So it’s with data from this knowledge that we can calculate the age of the universe:” With a wave of his hand, John puts a series of bullet points up on the screen behind him, then reads them aloud.

“One, the universe began as a very small, single point.” He reaffirms, “Two, the universe is constantly expanding outward from that point, and three, from these we have the ability to calculate the expansion rate of the universe, by calculating the speed of the stars that are moving away from us. If we take the furthest accelerations and enter them into this equation,” John’s board merrily does it’s thing behind him, “Then, we get the age of the universe."

"And, so we don't forget, all this talking was about the good way. There is another way to calculate the age of the universe, the, uh, not as good way, or, more specifically, the less scientific way.” A ripple of laughter goes through John’s audience - and he relaxes a little more. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe these are his kind of people. Scott’s never laughed at a space joke for sure. “There's no problem with it,” He quietens them again with a gentle gesture, “and it does support our theory and calculations, so I guess we should talk about it."

"Since ancient times, humans have been looking at the sky, watching the stars, and giving them names like Cygnus, Canis Major, Orion.” All names any young astronomer in the Southern Hemisphere would recognise, and be able to enthusiastically point out in the night sky. “In those days, there wasn't the internet so they were looking up at the stars instead.” Much like John himself, when he’d been a boy.

“As a way of calculating the age of the universe, astronomers set out to search for the oldest celestial bodies in space.” He goes on to explain, “The idea was that if we find a star whose age equals X, then the age of the universe must be greater than the number X. So we pointed our telescopes up there and started trying to find out their ages from birth, to youth, to their old age until their end."

"Can anyone guess the age of the oldest star we've found?" A lot of answers were guessed, some of them were pretty close, but some, amusingly, were way too far. "Ok, ok…” John puts his hands up to pacify his excited crowd, “Umm I see there are a lot of answers, but the oldest star people discovered was actually estimated to be 13.5 billion years old. The HD-140283, or as you might know it, the Methuselah Star. That number is very close, you’ll notice, to our estimation of the age of the universe."

"But if we found a star that is 13.5 billion years old today, then we could find an even older star next week and that would ruin all of that,” He chuckles, mostly to himself, “We also should note that this method alone isn't suitable for determining the universe’s age, but as long as we have two methods with corroborative results, we can be reassured that the estimate is correct.” He pauses for a second, “So, does anyone have questions?" A couple of hands raised, and John found himself suddenly answering a lot of questions - but he managed all of them despite his fear of the huge crowd.

He’s starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed.

"Umm… W-well that was a lot of questions,” John tries to pull it back in, his allotted lecture time ticking away on the big clock at the back of the hall. He feels a little panicky from the bombardment, and his palms have gone sweaty. “We’d better move on.” To distract himself from the people, as much as anything, “Our next topic is the theory of relativity, so l-let's get started on that."

Lady Penelope, from her fold-out seat at the back of the room, frowns. It’s clear John’s terrified and she wants to use plan b, but as long as he’s still standing on his feet, and giving the lecture, he's probably fine for now. If anything, it’d cause more of a disruption to drag him away now.

"Umm,” John takes a breath, trying to centre himself in the science of it all. “Let's start with a supposition, a hypothesis if you like, and consider it together. Okay, you’ll have to bear with me on this one, but let us suppose that we were all asleep, and the universe suddenly inflated by a thousand times.” There’s a murmur in the crowd at how odd everything abruptly getting that much bigger sounds, “Your bed, your pillow, your desk,” John extrapolates, “even the meter we measure stuff with. If humans became a thousand times bigger, when we woke up would we feel something strange? Would we even notice anything had changed? You’d think so, but no.” John’s settling back into his rhythm now, “So why is that? Because the bed and everything became a thousand times more inflated and our bodies also inflated a thousand times, with everything scaling in parallel relation to each other so that this percentage, this scale, was preserved throughout the room. You’d never know the difference."

"Henri Poincaré, the well known mathematician and theoretical physicist, says that we will never be able to discover that something like this has happened, even if we use all the mathematics and calculations ever invented.” John drives the point home with another illustrated slide, “This hypothesis is called the Poincaré hypothesis, and simply, because the meter with which we measure things will have also expanded a thousand times, there’s never going to be any equation or calculation or any analysis possible that could lead us to the truth, because the ratio is preserved in all parts."

"Now, this is important, because the same thing also happens with time. If everything suddenly got a thousand times faster, we’d still never feel anything different. Why’s that?” He asks, rhetorically, “Because time is also a thousand times faster, your heartbeat is also a thousand times faster, your body would function a thousand times faster to keep up with it all. As long as everything is increased by the same amount, the ratio is preserved, and none of us will be able to detect any change."

"So Poincaré asked the scientific community; is there no way to know that time increased or that things inflated?" John tells the room, "Well, it was Albert Einstein who answered him, deciding that the one and only way to tell, would be to have someone observing what happened to the world from another galaxy, from another world, lightyears away. For someone to point a telescope in our direction, and look through it at us, and say what happened to the Earth? Why are humans walking a thousand times faster than in the past? But this person who realized the situation,” The astronaut waves a flippant hand, starting to feel much more confident again, “would have to be a person standing on a fixed external platform in a different world, so that what happened to us was not also happening to him."

"But, as Einstein commented, this hypothesis is impossible for a simple reason and it's that there is no fixed platform in the universe - the entirety of it is in constant, turbulent motion. For example, the Earth rotates at a speed of 460 meters per second, revolving around the sun at 30 kilometers per second, and at the same time, the sun and it’s planets and dwarf planets and moons and asteroids, all revolve around our galaxy, The Milky Way, at a speed of 300 kilometres per second, and so the whole universe revolves. That's,” John takes a deep breath, finding himself out of air after so much explaining, “why it's impossible for us humans to completely accurately judge the motion of any astral body."

"Because there is no fixed berth, we can only offer relativity. This is the first part of the theory that Einstein came up with, in summary; it cannot be said that the monotony of a body is absolute motion."

"Another thing he said was that, because of the vastness of the universe, it’s impossible to synchronize, what does that mean? Well, I will give you an example.” He flicks his slide, “Say I’m a person in the Philippines, and I'm talking to someone from the United States. We synchronize, and hear each other in real time, because we have a method of fast communication. I can hold my device and say; hello, how are you?” John holds up the slim, sliver slice of his phone to show the audience, “How’s the weather there? And they’d answer me with something like; I’m fine thank you, it's night here so it’s a bit hard to tell what the weather’s doing! What’s the weather like there? And I’d answer them; it's daytime, and maybe ask them something like, what are you eating? They’d answer me; a burger, and then I’d tell them that I'm eating kaldereta, and it’s much better than a burger."

In the audience Penny quietly hopes that Gordon, who's probably listening in with the rest of his brother’s, missed the fact John was making jokes on stage. The poor little bugger’ll never live it down otherwise.

"These two events, each person talking to the other, are compatible.” John goes on, absolutely oblivious, “It’s possible because the two wireless devices, be they mobile phones or more sophisticated comms systems, are on the same globe, creating a fast means of communication.”

"But,” John postulates, “If I was talking to someone from another galaxy and I used the same means of communication to make a call, do you know how long it would take to get to them? It would be about five to six thousand years until my signal reaches the phone of our friend, and they’ll have married, had children and died, and their children would have married and had children and died, and so on, for thousands of years before then."

"And that's why it's impossible to synchronize between the ends of the universe,” John balances his palms like he’s weighing two invisible ends, “It rather puts a damper on our chances of finding and communicating with extraterrestrial life, for sure, but at least it’s possible to synchronize within one system, like the system of the Earth. "

"This is a thing that also applies to light, for example: any star you could look up and see now, the light emanating from it may be coming from thousands of years ago. This means that it’s possible that the star you see shining could have exploded and disappeared, and hasn't existed for a long time. Why? Because it takes a couple of thousand years for the light from that explosion to reach us."

"There isn’t any proof for the hypothesis that the universe is linked by time, but the thing that happens that we’re sure of is that the universe is made up of, sort of, separate islands of different times that have no connection between them. The connection between movement and time in space is something we all know about, for example, a day on Earth equals twenty-four hours, yes?” There’s a chorus of agreement from the audience, “But on Saturn, a day is ten hours because it rotates faster. Astonishingly, a day on Mercury is the same as fifty-eight whole Earth days, which, infact, is also a Mercurian year, because the planet revolves around the sun for the exact same period as it revolves around itself."

"Okay, so, to what extent is movement related to time?” John asks, well and truly into this whole teaching thing now, “Well, Einstein was the first person to discover the connection between them and suggested that; suppose you’re on board a very fast rocket, 100,000 miles per hour for example. The mechanical watch on your wrist would be delayed over the flight, but you wouldn’t feel like time is being delayed. Why’s that? It’s because the rhythm of your heart would slow down - all of the vital processes in your body that are inside the rocket will slow down."

"As you move more, something called the dilation of time will happen.” He steps to the side, as if to illustrate the point, only to find himself stumbling a little, like if the ground beneath his feet had moved. “T-Time slows down,” John tries to recover it smoothly, but everything’s starting to feel, weirdly, like it’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it’s the anxiety anymore, “and that's-"

John doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s an abrupt shift and a loud cracking from under him, and getting off the stage suddenly seems like a good idea. Someone screams outside, and the volume in the room skyrockets as the children start panicking. John’s one hundred percent sure this wasn't anything planned.

He knew he shouldn't have come.

Earthquake? He wonders first, then; Tsunami? Ground slip? Hurricane? Whichever it is, John has to prioritise calming the people and evacuating them out of the building. The giant glass panels above them are trembling with the force of the shaking, and, as a professional at this sort of thing, Thunderbird Five’s Space Monitor doesn’t like the look of it one bit.

"Everyone calm down,” He has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of people, even with the microphones pointed his way, “This is a normal thing. All we have to do is evacuate immediately, as calmly. as. possible. I don't want anyone crowding the exits, do you all understand what I just said?" The front rows, white faced with fear, nod encouragingly at him, and he watches as they begin to lead the way toward the glowing green signs that signal the emergency exits. Immediately after making sure the crowd is moving, John pulls up his comm to contact Gordon.

"Gordon, are you on the line?” John’s a little breathless and he climbs down from the precarious stage, into the throng of terrified bodies, “We have a situation in here."

"Let me guess, you caused it?" Gordon seems so excited to hear something other than his brother's boring lecture that humour has outweighed his professionalism.

"Gordon,” John grits his teeth, “I'm being serious right now, there was a huge movement in the ground beneath the Chino Roque Theater, and it's still ongoing. Tell Alan to do a check on what's happening beneath us using the Ground Penetrating Radar." He orders.

"F.A.B." Comes the far more serious response, before Gordon clicks off the line to do just that. Squashing down any fear he’d about the now swelling, shuffling crowd, John opens his arms wide and walks toward them, the motion sort of like he’s trying to herd sheep, as he tries to evacuate the people safely out of the building.

He’s not exactly an expert at being on the scene during rescues.

"John, there's a landslide going on right now,” Alan’s worried little voice comes ringing out of his comm speakers, “Right next to the theatre. You’d better get out of there. I’m monitoring the situation, but it’s looking like you’re going to need International Rescue to get you and the people out of there. The debris field is spreading fast." John would do almost anything to be up there instead, at his own screens. “I've contacted Virgil and Scott, I’m patching them through now.” Alan clicks Scott and Virgil, both clearly just finishing their suit up sequences, into the conversation. It seems important to keep them up to date with John's developing situation.

"Hey Mr. Tracy, how are you holding up?" Scott jokes over the roar of his launching Thunderbird, the sound filling the background of the call with white-noise, "Oh, and how was your lecture?" John thinks he sounds far too casual in contrast to the impending danger all around him.

"Oh my God, Scott, is now really the time?” John groans, and a kid with mousey blond hair not dissimilar to Alan’s looks up at him, very confused, before the astronaut waves him on, “You are an adult person,” He reminds his big brother, “Please don't be like Gordon right now. He’s practically still a child."

"Hey!” Gordon had clearly overheard the conversation between his brothers, and springs up to defend himself. “I'm only two or three years younger than you!" He complains, not about to do the math.

"Gordon, we don't have time for arguing about that now,” John frowns, “and Scott, I'm holding up alright at the moment. Please don't ask me anything about the lecture until I get back home." If his voice cracks a little on that last bit, he’ll never admit it.

"Okay, okay I won't ask anything about that,” Scott reassures him, his amused, big brother grin very much in place, “Keep on evacuating the people safely until we arrive John, you’re doing great. It won’t take us that long. ETA at 15,000 mph is sixteen minutes.” He reassures, “We’ll be there before you know it."

"F.A.B. Scott." He reluctantly signs off. Now that he’s finished talking with Scott, John’s pleased to see that a lot of people have already made their way out of the atrium’s three sets of double doors, evacuating the building to get as far away from the landslide as possible. His fingers itch to pull up the schematics from Thunderbird Five on his comm, no matter what the people around him might think. He quickly caves, and it feels worth it to be able to see the incoming tide of slipping land.

They don’t have much time.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, chivvying. He’s a little breathless with the tension, so he keeps things short. “Come on! Let’s move guys!”

From his vantage near the crumbling stage, John can make out Lady Penelope and Parker by the main doors, ushering people through, and the sight of them fills him instantly with immense relief.

“Okay, that's a good amount of people out.” John has to jog to catch up with them, skirting around a little old lady with a zimmer frame and taking a second to correct her course, “Lady Penelope, Parker, I think you should go and check on the people who’re out. They could have minor injuries from the stampede, and International Rescue are still ten minutes out. I'll make sure the last few stragglers exit safely."

Penelope just nods, pale and worried. Her blond brows are all pinched in together, nervous and Parker looks practically haggard as he claps a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder, her faithful old companion following her pink shape dutifully out the doors. Hopefully they’ll go make sure that no one was badly injured in any way.

Turning back to the slow cascade of cracking rubble behind him, John finds the stage area has been all but obliterated, and his heart aches for the patrons of the Chino Roque Theater who’ll have to rebuild from scratch when this is over. He imagines the Tracy fund can contribute a significant amount toward that though. They often do for worthy causes.

John pushes the damp curl of his slightly sweaty bangs out of his eyes and climbs over what looks like a twisted piece of ceiling girder toward the sound of people, possibly trapped stragglers, who are calling for help.

"I miss Thunderbird 5 so much,” John mutters, keeping it under his breath so that no one hears him, as his palms are scraped raw against the concrete he’s trying to clamber around. There’s a rippp of fabric on a jagged piece of metal and the knee of his previous pristine brown jeans meets much the same fate as his poor, scuffed hands. “Oh, come on!” He’s having no luck today, “I'd so rather be assisting the situation from space. I can’t believe I’m stuck here." John grumbles, to no one in particular. He’s just not built for this kind of thing. Heavy labour and getting sweaty pulling people out of scrap heaps is what his other brothers do. At least rescues in space don’t have all this… gravity to contend with.

"John?” The crackle of a comm cut’s across his complaints, “What’re you still doing in there?” Gordon’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, little brother’s tone heavy with concern. “The building could fall any moment! You're so lucky the landslide isn't moving very fast, but it’s not gonna stay that way forever." Gordon was really worried about the fact that his older brother was still inside. “It could engulf the building! You need to hurry it up, bro.”

"I'm evacuating the people as fast as I can,” John gets both hands under the armpits of a boy who couldn’t be older than seven, and swings him above a pile of rubble toward safety, “I'll be out in no ti- Ah!"

John’s voice gets cut off with a startled cry, and it takes Gordon a second or two, time John might not have, to remember how to breathe so that he can yell in any way coherently into his comm. His eyes are wide, his anxiety levels through the roof as he tries, and fails, to rouse his brother on the other end.

"SCOTT! You need to get there now.” Gordon’s aware that he’s totally losing his cool, panic creeping in over his weak layer of professionalism, “I just lost contact with John.” He gasps, “He was evacuating people and I heard him yell and now he’s not responding! And- and it's not just him. There were other people he was trying to get out."

"Hey Gordon,” Scott tries to keep his voice steady to inject some kind of stability into the conversation, “Don't lose your cool yet. I'm sure nothing that bad happened to John. Just stay your positive self, okay? I’m arriving right now and Virgil isn’t far behind me."

Thunderbird One is panning over the city, low enough to ruffle the hair of people looking up, but it’s not a problem until the usually so sure and steady pilot finds his hands nearly slipping off her controls as Scott catches his first, horrific glimpse of the building that he knows his younger brother is inside.

“What the…?”

The Chino Roque Theater is almost flat.

"Virgil,” Scott swallows hard to try and remove any of the tremor from his voice, “A-Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He almost succeeds.

"Scott this isn't a joke, it looks like half of the building has come down with the landslide! John’s in there!" Virgil sounds more terrified than Scott thinks he’s ever heard him. What scares him the most is that the exit was on the side that has fallen in, which means that a lot of people are trapped under it, their John included. "Scott, we need to help them right now.

"Okay, here's the plan,” Scott’s hands tighten white-knuckled on the steering yoke, “You wear your exo-suit and go clear the debris out of the way so that we can save them, and I'll get rid of that roof with Thunderbird One and check for life signs. Remember that saving lives is our top priority, got it? No matter what’s happened to John."

"F.A.B." Virgil sounds incredibly tense. He lands Thunderbird Two as fast as he can in the crowded, limited space. Local people are beginning to make their way out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about, and the cramped city streets aren’t ideal for International Rescue’s four hundred and six ton workhorse.

Two’s pilot struggles into his exo-suit, rushing to get the Jaws of Life prepared despite Scott’s insistence that he focus and take things slow and sensible. It’s not long until he finds himself digging among the debris looking for buried people and, in the white rush of it all, Virgil’s not even sure how he got there.

"Scott,” he presses on his comm, “Please tell me you’ve got something?"

"Fortunately and thankfully yes,” It’s hard to find the hopefulness in big brother’s clipped Mobile Control voice, but it’s there to Virgil’s expert ear, drizzled in nervous relief. “I've got a whole cluster of life signs,” Scott reports, “BPM signalling in the green. "I think they’re just trapped under the debris." Alan’s echolocation report came back suggesting that there’s a big space under what could be folded sheet metal from the ceiling, that they’ve huddled in. I'm really sure there's nothing that bad, but still we have to continue otherwise it will take a bad turn for us and the people in there."

“I can use the grappling cables in Thunderbird One to take the strain off the roof,” Scott adds, “But I need you in there to get those people out.”

“Already on my way,” Virgil ducks under some rebar, skirting around the rubble and pulling away loose debris as he goes. His heart is loud in his own ears, and Virgil hopes the creak and groan of metal and concrete above him is Scott lifting the weight off the roof, keeping it from collapsing any further onto the people below, and not anything more sinister. Virgil gets peppered by a slide of small stones, but the roof holds steady.

He presses on until he catches sight of the cluster of around forty people, all huddled together around a tall, central figure with a shocking amount of rubble dust smeared over his face, and powdered through his ginger hair.

“John!” Two’s pilot makes a beeline for his brother, despite the fact three of the people are stuck under rubble. Clearly John’s in control of the situation here, and he’s never wanted a mission update from their Space Monitor so much in his life. He can’t help but hone in on the fact John's left arm is crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth from his sleeve, which he must’ve ripped off in order to tie it.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened,” Virgil drops the controls for the Jaws of Life, and grasps his brother’s biceps in both hands instead, resisting the very strong temptation to pull the spaceman in for a hug. “And what happened to your arm?!?" There’s a river of blood seeping from beneath the make-shift bandage, but John, it seems, isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

"Not now Virgil.” His concerns get thoroughly dismissed, “We’ve got to get these people out of here, and then I'll tell you everything." Virgil didn't like the idea that something happened to his brother and he's silent about it, but after all John was right about saving the people first since his arm is under control for now.

John crouches by the nearest injured person; a pale, skinny teen with a sizable piece of rebar keeping him pinned.

“You’re gonna be out of there in just a second, Lito.” Virgil watches him reassuring the young man for a long moment, “Uh, Virgil?” John prompts. “Any time?”

“What?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah!” His brother is clearly waiting expectantly for him to use the Jaws of Life to get the poor kid out. "I’m on it, but you better tell me everything after we're done saving them." Virgil demands. “But, uh, Scott’s kind of holding the roof up right now, so you’re probably right.”

"Okay,” John literally rolls his eyes, busy stealing a pair of blue rubber gloves from the Med Kit Virgil brought with him, and snapping them on to protect his hands and the fine cuts he’d gotten from climbing over rubble. “I promise I'll tell you everything, but can we start actually rescuing them now?" Rolling his eyes right back, the bigger man uses his exosuit to heft the rubble off Lito, before John swoops in to apply pressure to his injuries.

“Give me the fold out stretcher from your sash.” He orders, hands bloodied “Then go get the next person out. Efifania, Sergio?” John beckons a pair of nearby dad’s in closer, clearly having singled them out as capable stretcher bearers. “Think you can manage Lito here for me?”

As Virgil starts removing the rubble from above the other two trapped people, a middle aged man and a younger woman, it becomes immediately obvious that both of them have more severe wounds than young Lito. They both need medical treatment immediately.

“I’ll carry one of them.” Without the three extra sets of hands he’d need, Virgil has to leave a couple of crowd members applying pressure to their wounds, as he moves back to where John is helping Lito unsteadily to his feet. “Think you can walk, young man? We’re gonna need that stretcher for the big guy.”

“I won’t let you fall.” John promises, and Virgil feels a real swell of pride at how well his brother is handling the situation whilst being outside of both his space station and his comfort zone. It looks like having a rescue and a job to do really gives him no time for anxiety. "I agree that that's our best plan.” He adds, nodding, short and sharp, to confirm it, then John turns, an arm around Lito’s waist and the kid’s arm slung over his shoulder, to address the crowd.

“Anyone not so severely hurt needs to help get the injured out of here.” John instructs, the small crowd listening raptly. The look on the faces of these scared people is one Virgil is all too familiar with, but he knows John has far less experience of in person. They’re really looking to him as their saviour. “Virgil here is going to lead us through the path he just made.” Which is news to Virgil, but does seem like the best plan. “International Rescue will then be able to take us all to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be released to go home to your families before you know it. Got it everyone?"

In that moment Virgil finds himself struck with amazement at how John seems to have become almost as fearless as Scott, as they started carrying the two injured people out to safety. It was really a new side to him that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

"Virgil… I need you to check on Lady Penelope and Parker.” John’s keeping pace at his side, helping the boy they’d dug out along as he goes, “I told them to check to see if anyone was hurt."

"Hmm, yeah you're right.” Virgil frowns. If Penny and Parker have any more injured party members, even minor ones that just need a check up, Thunderbird Two will need to evacuate them to the hospital as well. “Have you got any idea where they might be?"

"Well, I told them to get somewhere away from the landslide,” John frowns, as their limping, shocky party stumbles out into the bright light of day, to be greeted by the roar of Thunderbird One’s engines high above them. “They should be near here.” He yells over the sound of it.

As usual, it turns out that John is completely right. Penny and Parker are waiting for them, but neither John nor Virgil find the look on Lady Penelope's face all that reassuring.

"JOHN!” She rushes toward the battered, bloodied spaceman, her arms outstretched. Virgil very quickly and carefully finagles poor Lito out of the way as his brother gets ambushed. “Are you okay?!?” Penelope demands, frantic, “What happened to your arm?” She reaches for the bloodied bandage, and John winces, “I'm so sorry,” All of John’s carefully constructed rules around personal space are shattered as she cups his cheek, inspecting his face for injury. It’s lucky that John is by far the most patient of the Tracy boys. “I shouldn't have left you there.

"She’d been so terrified, perhaps more than anyone else here. The horrific view she’d seen with her own eyes is going to haunt her for a long time yet. One second she was getting out of the building to reassure and check up on the people, and the next she was watching half the structure collapse completely, with John under the side that fell. She still feels a little sick.

"I'm so, so, so sorry John,” She repeats, before he can get a word in edgeways to reassure her, “Please, you must tell me if there's any way I can make it up to you. Ask me anything and I'll do it."

"Okay guys,” Virgil chuckles, “while you talk things out I'll go to get the injured people aboard Thunderbird 2. Make it quick though, we’ve still got people who need immediate medical treatment, got it?"

"F.A.B. Virgil.” John nods, “We'll be quick. Penny, I..."

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats again, and pulls his good arm over her shoulder as if to steady him as they make their way at the back of the crowd toward the big green Thunderbird.

"No no no, Penny, please stop apologising.” John’s fingers tighten for a quick moment on her shoulder, in brief reassurance, “I'm not going to ask you for anything because it was never your fault.” He insists, “It was just some bad luck, that's all. Fortunately I, and most people, got out safe with no severe wounds. These things happen.”

“Your arm.” She points out softly, hoping that all that blood looks worse than it is, “John I can’t believe you stayed behind like that, it’s so...”

“Tracy?” He grins, amused but very weary.

“Scott Tracy.” She corrects, scowling a little as she holds on just that little bit tighter around his waist as his adrenaline from the rescue starts to flag. “I thought you had more common sense.”

“Hate to disappoint.” She feels the warmth of him chuckling, “I’m lucky it was nothing worse than his cut from some shattered glass that fell on my arm while I was helping one of the guys who got stuck. I don’t think any arteries or anything have been damaged, but it is... kinda deep." And he might be getting a little lightheaded from the blood loss. Still, he really wants to reassure her, just like she had reassured him before he’d gone in to give the lecture.

"Hate to interrupt your moment, but are you guys done?" Scott pops up from who-knows-where amongst the crowd to yell at them. He’s clearly joined the relief effort. "Virgil’s just finished getting everyone aboard Thunderbird 2, and he's ready to launch." He adds, squinting at the pale, wobbly mess of his brother. "And you really do need to check your arm. That looks nasty.”

"Yeah Scott,” John wipes a tired hand over his dirty face, dislodging dust, “We're done. Don’t let Thunderbird Two wait for me, I'll hitch a ride with Lady Penelope, uh,” He turns to her, bashful, to check, “If that’s okay?"

“Of course,” Her Ladyship concedes, “Scott?” She is mildly concerned that big brother might want to have the injured member of his flock under his wing so he can smother him.

"Yeah sure, ride whatever you want.” Scott flip flops a dismissive hand at them, “You can ride a pod, I won't care as long as your destination is the hospital."

"How about you, Gordon?” John knows his little brother is still on the line, probably sulking. “Is it okay if I take the ride with Lady P?"

"W-what do you mean by that?” Gordon sounds confused and maybe a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught out. “Scott already said you should go, why’re you asking me?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend.” John grins, teasing, as Penny helps him into the back of FAB1. “Of course I have to get permission from her boyfriend.

"Penny swats at him for that, amused, but careful not to hit his injured arm. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, but it is fun to see Gordon squirm - especially as Scott and Virgil both crack up, and even Alan in space starts teasing him.

"What?!?” Gordon’s face, bless that darling young man, has gone bright red. “J-Just go already." He ducks off the comm screen to try and hide his embarrassment, but it’s far too late for that.

He’s lucky that Penelope finds it incredibly endearing.

"John,” She nudges him, as the Tracy’s all click off the line to go do their actual jobs. She’s a little concerned that he’s looking a bit spaced out, if you’ll excuse the pun, and it’s probably a good idea to keep him talking. “You know we're still going to The Pagasa Observatory, just like I promised you, right?"

"Wait really?” John’s head tilts, a little floppy, towards her from where it had been sinking into FAB1’s luxurious headrests. He’s looking a little grey, but it’s good to see his eyes open. “After all that happened?” A ginger eyebrow quirks, “Are you sure there's time for that?"

"Well, we’re on our way to the hospital now, but there’ll be plenty of time this afternoon.” As long as the medics give him a clean bill of health. “You can change your clothes after we're done checking your arm then there should be time for you to go see that big telescope you've been dreaming of visiting. After all, I did promise you we’d go there after we're done."

"Well, that sounds good to me!” John smiles like there’s a supanova fuling him, “Penny you’re the best."

They reach the hospital a little after International Rescue has dropped off the fourty or so injured people, and so there’s quite a wait for a Doctor to be free so that they can have a look at John’s poor, sliced arm. Penny seems to be doing a worried hover at his side, while he waits, shaky from blood loss, and though he’s not used to having so much company, John has to admit it’s nice to have a chance to catch up with his old friend with no rescue alarms blaring.

Alan reports in that the two worst injured in the landslide have been hospitalized as fast as possible, that they were stable - the doctors have said their prognosis looked good. He also tells him that Lito’s family had been asking after the redheaded lecturer who’d helped him out of the rubble, and that John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons, should probably expect a gift basket in the mail quite soon.

John gets quite flustered about that. He’d just been doing his job.

The spaceman's arm was eventually treated, and Scott calls in to ask what actually happened to his arm. It still hurts, a properly bandaged throb just under his elbow, but not like before. The painkilling injection and little bit of morphine they’d given him when they stitched it up had probably helped with that.

Alan’s reports dug up that the landslide had been caused by a water main leaking under the building, and destabilizing the soil. Over time, water can do a lot of damage, washing away vital infrastructure if it’s not been properly reinforced during construction.

As the Chino Roque Theater was a new build, there must have been a mistake in the installation of the pipes during construction.

Someone was getting a big lawsuit heading their way, and Tracy Enterprises will be more than happy to fund the lawyers for the theatre.

As Lady Penelope promised him, they found John a change of clothes and went to the Pagasa Observatory. Penny’s quite sure she’s never seen anything as wholesome as the moment John sees the telescope - his eyes went all shiny, and the smile on his face was massive.

"Lady Penelope, Parker come take a look at the stars!!!” He calls, over his shoulder, with the enthusiasm of a boy half his age, “They’re really beautiful from here!" With such a high-powered lens pointed up at the cosmos, it rivals even his view from Thunderbird Five.

"Indeed, they are." Lady Penelope and Parker both step up to take turns, but John was the one to look through the telescope the most. With all the stealth her years as a secret agent offered her, Lady Penelope took a picture of him.

"Parker, come take a look." She whispers, beckoning her old companion gleefully over. "He looks so happy and innocent in this picture. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see his face like this always?"

"We still have some time before they close,” Parker points out, a sly grin creeping onto his nosey old face. “How h’bout we leave him like this for a little longer?"

"That, Parker.” she smiles, “Is an excellent idea.”

The End

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #Lady Penelope #Parker #tag #my writing

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randomficsandshit · 4 years

Text

Bellarke Fic Rec

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author your love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what i can do, this is a pretty old list

There's A Nap For That

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Based on that post: "If you both agree to take a nap instead of going out, it’s a date." Or: The one where Bellamy and Clarke keep taking naps together. You know, platonically. See also: Let Them Rest.

If You Wear A Dress and Have an Animal Sidekick, You Are a Princess

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Bellamy can't not take care of every animal he sees, and Clarke can't not find it endearing.

*Mouth Like Heaven, Kisses Like Stars

Word Count: 4k+

His eyebrows are knitted together in a slight frown, the kind he usually gets when he’s trying to work out a difficult problem. Finally, he meets her eyes again and says, almost hesitantly underneath his mask of bravado, “Well, I’m always here to lend a helping hand if you need it, princess.” Clarke actually chokes this time, and it feels like all the breath has been knocked out of her. -or, the time when everything goes downhill and bellamy just goes down.

Wingwoman

Word Count: 1k+

AU. Clarke didn't think she'd need a wingwoman at the park playground when she's babysitting her one-year-old niece, but then Bellamy Blake strolls up, and Amelia rises to the occasion, luckily for her.

When Love Hits (Better Make It Worth The Fall)

Word Count: 4k+

AU. (She's All That) Four times Clarke gets hit on the head (+1 time she doesn't) during her last semester of high school, and every single time, Bellamy Blake is somehow involved.

All This Time

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Four times Bellamy innocently kisses Clarke, + one time he doesn't.

Take This Heart

Word Count: ~

clarke moves into bellamy's room. this is both soft and full of disdain for clarke's terrible... everything in season 3

You're Cool On The Internet, At Least

Word Count: 9k+

AU. Look, Clarke will not dwell on this. She will not get flustered just because a possibly cute guy on Facebook apparently shares her views on what constitutes a terrible person.

(Or: Clarke meets Bellamy on Facebook. They hit it off.)

(One of my personal favs)

We Came Out On Top

Word Count: 11k+

AU. “How can you guys be all like this and then be at each other’s throats during trivia night?” “Because it’s trivia night,” both Bellamy and Clarke said at the same time, sharing the same why don’t you get it tone. Bellamy, Clarke, and the trivia night rivalries only they care about.

She Does What The Night Does To The Day

Word Count: 5k+

AU. He assumes she would just giggle and continue petting him while saying how pretty he is, but instead, she pulls back with what might have been a leer had she not been three sheets to the wind, and says, “Your body is 65% water and I’m thirsty.” And then if that wasn’t bad enough, she stumbles out of his arms and fucking winks at him. Or at least he thinks it’s a wink. She used both eyes instead of one. or, the one where Bellamy is woefully and terribly oblivious.

The Giant Squid's Got Nothing On You

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Objectively, Clarke knows she’s probably right, but she still can’t help but lift her chin determinedly and say, “He is not going to find it.” She can barely hear her scoff in reply over the din of the cafe. “Yeah right,” says Raven, “The internet is forever, Clarke Griffin. He will find it eventually.” or, Clarke finds her new muse at the local cafe

Alone Together

Word Count: 11k+

AU. Clarke shows up at Bellamy’s apartment at exactly two minutes to midnight on a Thursday. He's not sure how she ends up staying the night — or why he doesn't turn her away, when it happens again. And again.

Cold As The Wind Blows (so hold me in your arms)

Word Count: 3k+

AU. Clarke gets trapped in the storage room overnight, but at least she's not by herself.

Tequila Regrets

Word Count: 6k+

AU. Clarke and Bellamy have been roommates for a while, and Clarke has been in love with him for almost as long, but when she finds out that his terror of a boss has marked him as her next conquest, Clarke offers to pose as his fake girlfriend for the staff Christmas party to scare her off. She did not think this all the way through.

Mutual

Word Count: 6k+

AU. As acts of rebellion go, Clarke knows that getting a tumblr is both minor and pathetic. But it's her secret, her own tiny, online space where no one knows she's Clarke Griffin, Hollywood A-lister. She's just some nobody with like five followers and opinions no one cares about. And then she makes a friend.

Wish On Everything

Word Count: 11k+

AU. It's not as if Bellamy wanted anything bad to happen to his mother. All he wanted was to get custody of his little sister, so he'd know she was taken care of. And after eight years, he's basically given up all hope of that. Then his mother does die, and social services tells him he gets Octavia.

Legs Crossed Towards Each Other

Word Count: 7k+

It starts with Raven wanting to set up Mr. Sinclair, out of what are probably genuinely good intentions. It's everyone else who turns it into a massive headache for Bellamy.

What The Hell Is The Catch?

Word Count: 6k+

Bellamy gets tickets to take his AP US History kids to Hamilton, and Clarke figures he's going to need a chaperone. She's happy to help out. And if he says she owes him for it? Totally worth it.

If You Wanna Reach Me

Word Count: 5k+

AU. Clarke: So yeah, in the dream it's like We're in New York, I think. I'm not really sure, but you know how it is when it's a dream and you just know something. So we're in New York.

Jasper: whos we??????

Clarke: Most of us, I think? It's always kind of hard to remember when it's a dream. Like I just thought "everyone's here!" but I mostly interacted with Bellamy.

Raven: did u mean: real life

Time Enough For Rocking When We're Old

Word Count: 14k+

boston > boston/camb/brook > housing > apts by owner $2-300 Roxbury small room in 3-br 1-bath house, spouse preferred (Roxbury) Pair of siblings looking for housemate. Due to extenuating circumstances I will share with interested parties, I would prefer a roommate who is willing to get married for legitimate personal reasons that do not include sex or anything sketchy. If not interested in marriage, room still available for $300/month plus utilities. Pets okay, no smokers, NO DRUG USE. Please don't just email me to tell me this is fucked up, I know it is, you really don't have to tell me. If you are interested in the marriage part, a female spouse is preferred, but male would be okay too. I promise I will explain this if you really want details, but I'm not putting it online. Serious inquiries only.

Must Love Intersectionality

Word Count: 2k+

AU. Bellamy hates his stupid history of colonialism class, until he makes a friend. Weirdly, the friend isn't actually in his class, they just share the same desk and like to write angry notes about the patriarchy. Bellamy's a fan.

Regardless Of Warnings, The Future Doesn't Scare Me At All

Word Count: 20k+

AU. 2 Chapters. After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

(You Might Find) You Get What You Need

Word Count: 20k+

AU. Clarke needs a date to her ex's sister's wedding, and she's at the point of hiring someone off the internet when Octavia points out that her brother is always looking for money. So Clarke takes him instead.

Just As You Are

Word Count: 10k+

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single Clarke Griffin in need of a Latin tutorial partner will always end up paired with Bellamy Blake.

I've Been Dreaming Of You From The Other Side (I Know You So Well)

Word Count: 17k+

AU. Ten years ago, Clarke found out she had superpowers. Now she's all ready to start a new life: English teacher by day, vigilante by night. All she has to do is figure out how to be a superhero, avoid getting caught and shipped off by mandatory metahuman registration, and not strangle the stupid history teacher down the hall. It'll be fun.

She's Touching His Chest Now, He Takes Off Her Dress Now

Word Count: 26k+

If Clarke had thought arguments could actually lead to switching bodies with someone, she wouldn't have been surprised this one really did. But since that's actually impossible, waking up as Bellamy Blake is still a shock.

I Know That Fortune Is Waiting To Be Kind

Word Count: 20k+

When Bellamy is eleven, his mother dies, and he finds out his father was a prince, which makes him a prince too, albeit a bastard prince. And when he's twelve, his family decides he would be a good candidate for marriage to Princess Clarke of Arcadia. Princess Clarke thinks so too, but only because he agrees to come back in ten years and help her make sure the wedding never takes place. It seems like a really good deal, when he's twelve.

And Dream How Wonderful Your Life Will Be

Word Count: 19k+

Clarke has known Bellamy Blake for two months when she finds out two completely unexpected things about him: he's married, and he has an eight-year-old son. He's also getting a divorce and he needs a roommate, and she's got a spot. It's complicated.

One Deep Breath and One Big Step

Word Count: 17k+

Clarke Griffin has been groomed for Ark University and Sigma Kappa Upsilon sorority since she was a kid, and she's a little annoyed to discover, upon getting to college, that she really does like Sig-Kap. That she wants to pledge. There's just this weird thing where they don't seem to like her new friend Bellamy.

Write What You Know

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy understands every individual choice that got him to this point. He started writing erotica to make some extra money, he didn't correct the assumption that he was a woman, made up some facts about his new persona, and now his publisher wants him to start making public appearances, so he needs someone to be that persona. And Clarke really is the logical choice. It all makes sense to him, when he thinks about it, but he will admit it is incredibly weird. Luckily, Clarke's still got his back.

When Can I See You Again?

Word Count: 13k+

Bellamy doesn't recognize a lot of people he meets at conventions, even if he's met them a lot. It's just hard to keep track. But the girl who comes once or twice a year is pretty easy to remember. And that's before her foster mom shows up in a panic because she took a bus to Vegas alone. After that happens, it's basically all over.

But They Ain't Doing It Right

Word Count: 14k+

“So,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. It’s a lost cause trying to work it back into some semblance of order. “What is this?” “What do you mean?” He doesn’t meet her eye when he says, “Once is a mistake, twice is a pattern,” too busy picking at a loose thread in his hem. “Wanna go three times and just make it a habit?” she jokes weakly, and his head snaps back up, eyes boring into hers. She flushes under the intensity of his gaze. “Actually,” he begins slowly, “That doesn’t sound that bad.” or, the friends with benefits au that got away from me

Phone A Friend

Word Count: 7k+

Clarke does not ask Bellamy for tips on having a threesome because she's hoping to have a threesome with him. He's just the only person she knows personally who has actually had a threesome, so he seems like her best resource. And when the opportunity to have a threesome with him presents itself, it's not like she's going to just say no.

I'm Swept Away and My Heart Ensnared

Word Count: 15k+

Raven hums low in her throat. “Well, at least Bellamy can make it up in time. So you won’t get too axe murdered.” Clarke wrinkles her nose, leaning on the banister of the upstairs porch. From here she can see the ocean, just a five minute walk away, and she breathes in brine soaked air. “He’s still coming?” “What do you mean if he’s still coming? He didn’t say anything otherwise.” She shifts from foot to foot, feeling herself colour slightly even though there’s no one there to see her. “I just assumed that because you and Miller couldn’t make it up anymore he wouldn’t come today.” “Why the hell did you think that?” “Because Bellamy and I aren’t exactly friends, Raven." or, Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin don't really like each other. Or at least that's what they tell themselves.

Afraid To Call This Place Our Own

Word Count: 22k+

(Single mom!Clarke and Teacher!Bellamy, with the usual angsty shenanigans.)

And Are We There Yet (Home)

Word Count: 2k+

A Bellamy POV and mini sequel to afraid to call this place our own. (this shit made me cry)

Bloodstains and Innocence: A Clarke Griffin Mystery

Word Count: 27k+

Police Chief Clarke Griffin knows three things: 1) Charles Pike is dead. 2) Octavia Blake is the prime suspect. 3) Bellamy Blake a giant pain in the ass with no business being involved in a murder investigation, and yet here he is, working the case alongside her. A hurricane is approaching the sleepy little island of Arkadia, NC as evidence begins to mount against Octavia and Clarke wrestles with her increasingly complicated relationship with Bellamy, all while trying to answer one simple question: Who killed Charles Pike?

Is There An IUD That Can Stop The Image of You and Me?

Word Count: 8k+

It's probably impossible to be friends with benefits with someone who might not even count as a friend, but "lab partners with benefits" isn't a thing yet. So that's probably the right term. Whatever it is, Clarke's enjoying it. As long as she ignores the whole feelings thing.

I’m Gonna Leave You Anyway

Word Count: 65k+

Modern AU inspired by the show You're the Worst, where Bellamy and Clarke hook up after a wedding.

And You Can Have This Heart To Break

Word Count: 37k+

Clarke knows she's being a little over-dramatic in her complaining about having to move to Maine, but it does seem pretty unreasonable of her mother to drag her to a small town in the middle of nowhere for the three months between high-school graduation and her starting college. As it turns out, the summer is great. It's just the summer ending that's the problem.

Museums and Mistletoe

Word Count: 1k+

Clarke buys Bellamy a museum ticket for Christmas and he acts like it’s the best gift he’s ever received. She buys one for herself too, because she knows none of their other friends have the time to go—finding a day they can all get together to exchange gifts is hard enough—and if it gets her an uninterrupted afternoon with her best friend and all around favorite asshole, she’s definitely not complaining.

When In Brome

Word Count: 57k+

Octavia is the one who tells Clarke about "Untitled Gladiator Project," because she thinks Bellamy wants to be on it, and also thinks Clarke is the one who will be able to convince him to do it. Plus, it turns out Clarke actually needs to be involved, because all of the gladiators are required to have girlfriends with them, and, honestly, the more she hears about it, the more of a mess it seems like. On the other hand, it sounds kind of hilarious, and definitely right up Bellamy's alley, so there's probably no harm in trying out. It might be fun.

It’s All Internet Interaction

Word Count: 11k+

Bellamy is less than pleased when soap opera star Clarke Griffin lands the lead role in the Callister reboot. So, naturally, he writes about it. It’s not supposed to blow up. She’s not supposed to respond to it either, but here they are.

Just Dive Right In (And Follow My Lead)

Word Count: 24k+

Clarke Griffin needs a partner. Bellamy Blake just happens to walk into her rink. (Or: Bellamy and Clarke as ice dancing partners, training together through the years to the Olympics.)

Sleight Of Hand

Word Count: 56k+

Notorious criminal prodigy Bellamy Blake has been tasked with a seemingly impossible heist. Luckily enough, he just might have the right crew for it. *Personal Favorite*

And Then We Were Chasing Comets

Word Count: 21k+

If you told Clarke Griffin that she would become best friends with the resident black sheep of Arkadia, she would have difficulty believing it, let alone the fact that he apparently wrote an entire book about her. (Or: Clarke and Bellamy through the years, as childhood best friends.)

See Me In Hindsight

Word Count: 16k+

“You’re kind of a mess,” He says mildly. “Thanks captain obvious.” The corners of his mouth twitch a little, like he’s holding back a smile. She is not remotely pleased by that. Not at all. Or, the one where they're project partners and maybe, perhaps, friends. (And maybe, perhaps, more.)

Challenge Accepted

Word Count: 30k+

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone. “You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.” As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop. “Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?” And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

Found Myself In A Second

Word Count: 5k+

The one where Clarke finds a lost wallet belonging to one Bellamy Blake.

Every Rose Can Sting You

Word Count: 15k+

Clarke expected to encounter annoying guys when she got forced into becoming the Bachelorette, but she didn't realise that the most annoying of them all would be the head cameraman. Because seriously, Bellamy Blake is a total prick. It's a good thing there's absolutely no chance of her ever actually liking him, because boy, would that be inconvenient…

Choking On Your Alibis

Word Count: 7k+

Bellamy gets a girlfriend and Clarke handles it spectacularly well

#bellarke #the 100 #fic rec #fic rec masterlist #bellarke masterlist #bellamy x clarke #beliza #the 100 fic #multi chap fic #one shot #clarke griffin #bellamy blake #raven reyes #octavia blake #eliza taylor #bob morley #the cw #fanfiction #bellarke fanfiction

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uomo-accattivante · 4 years

Text

I recently came across a bunch of press articles and photos about Oscar Isaac that are so old, they appear to be out-of-print and pre-date social media. Considering they were probably never digitally transcribed for internet access, I’m guessing that the majority of current fans have never seen this stuff.

Even though a lot of these digital scans are challenging to read because they are the original fuzzy news print, I think there some gems worth sharing with you guys. Over the next several weeks, I will transcribe and share those gems on this page. Hope you enjoy them!

Let’s start with this fantastic 2001 profile piece done before Oscar was accepted into Juilliard:

South Florida’s rising star isn’t just acting the part

By Christine Dolen - [email protected]

February 4, 2001

As fifth-graders at Westminster Christian School in Miami, Oscar Isaac and his classmates were asked to write a story as if they were animals on Noah’s Ark. Oscar turned in a seven-page play – with original music – from the perspective of a platypus. Then he starred in the production his teacher directed.

He hasn’t stopped expressing himself creatively since. Today, Isaac is one of South Florida’s busiest young theater actors, and certainly its hottest. And not just because he’s a slender five-feet nine-inches tall with an expressively handsome face and glistening brown eyes.

Since making his professional debut as a Cuban hustler in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage in July 1999, he has played an explosive Vietnam vet in Private Wars for Horizons Repertory, a pot-smoking slacker in This Is Our Youth at GableStage, another Cuban on the make in Praying With the Enemy at the Coconut Grove Playhouse, the entrancing narrator of Side Man at GableStage, a Havana-based writer in Arrivals and Departures for the new Oye Rep and, most recently, a young Fidel Castro in When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba at New York’s Cherry Lane Theater.

Beginning Wednesday, he’ll be juggling five roles in City Theatre’s annual Winter Shorts festival, first at the Colony Theatre in Miami Beach, then at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts. But that is not all: During the two weeks he is doing Winter Shorts, he’ll also be playing dates with the punk-ska band The Blinking Underdogs (www.blinkingunderdogs.com), which features him as lead singer, guitarist and songwriter.

Oh, and he just got back from auditioning for New York’s prestigious Juilliard School of Drama.

All this for a guy a month shy of his 22nd birthday.

Sure, you could hate a guy who’s that talented, that charismatic, that transparently ambitious. But the people who have worked with Oscar Isaac don’t. On the contrary, they’re all sure he has it – that magical, can’t-be-taught thing that transforms an actor into a star.

Playwright Eduardo Machado, who put in a good word for Isaac at Juilliard, says “he does have that star quality that makes your eyes go to him. It’s great that someone with that talent still wants to train.”

“He has a star quality that’s rare in a young actor,” adds Joseph Adler, who directed him in Side Man and This Is Our Youth. “Without a doubt I expect to be hearing great things from him.”

‘I JUST LOVE CREATING’

Isaac, who also makes short films, can’t say exactly why he was attracted to acting. He just knows it makes him happier than anything, that it’s what he was meant to do. And he’s been doing it since he was a 4-year-old putting on plays in his family’s backyard with his sister Nicole.

“I just love creating, whether it’s music or films or a character on a stage. I love taking people for a ride,” he says. “In Side Man, every night I would love being that close to the audience. I felt like I was talking to 80 of my closest friends.

“I could feel what the audience was feeling.”

His powerful, mournful-yet-loving monologue near the end of the play, he said, “worked every night. I knew it would get them. I’d hear sniffles.

“But it had less to do with me than with the atmosphere [created by the playwright and director].”

You could understand if Isaac, surrounded as he is by praise and possibility, had an ego as burgeoning as his career. Instead, he channels the positive reinforcement into confidence about his work.

“He has such a charm and an ease onstage, but he’s very modest,” says New York-based actress Judith Delgado, who shared the stage with Isaac in Side Man. “He’s hungry. He’s got moxie. I was blown away by him.

“He saved me a couple of times. I went up [forgot a line] and that baby boy of mine came through. He’s a joy.”

FORGING HIS OWN PATH

The son of a Cuban-American father and a Guatemalan mother, Isaac was never a stellar student. But he found ways of turning routine assignments – like the Noah’s Ark story – into creative challenges.

His science reports were inevitably video documentaries underscored with punk music. He acted through middle and high school, though he had a falling out with his drama teacher at Santaluces Community High in Lantana over his misgivings about a character. When she refused to cast him in anything else, he got his English teacher to let him play the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors his senior year.

His skepticism about authority and love of playing the devil’s advocate have long made him resist doing things the usual way. His post-high school “training” consisted of one semester at Miami-Dade Community College’s South Campus (where he met his girlfriend, Maria Miranda), touring schools playing an abusive character in the Coconut Grove Playhouse’s Breaking the Cycle, and working as a transporter of bodies at Baptist Hospital, where he absorbed the drama of people in emotionally intense situations.

“It was the most magnificent dramatic institute I could’ve attended,” Isaac said. “I was able to observe the entire spectrum of human emotion, people under the most extreme duress. I was mesmerized watching the way people interacted with each other in such heightened situations.

“I learned everything about the human condition, and it was real and harsh and brutally honest.”

Yet even given his propensity for forging his own path, something nudged him another direction while he was in New York making his Off-Broadway debut in December. Walking by Juilliard one day, he impulsively went in to ask for an application. Though the application deadline had passed, Isaac persuaded Juilliard to accept his, noting in his application essay that most of the exceptional actors he admires had acquired “a brutally efficient technique” to enhance their talent by studying at places like Juilliard.

Though he won’t know whether he has been accepted until the end of this month, his audition last weekend went well, he says. He did monologues from Henry IV, Part I and Dancing at Lughnasa, adjusting his Shakespearean Hotspur to a more fiery temperature at the suggestion of Michael Kahn, head of Juilliard’s acting program – though not without arguing that Hotspur wouldn’t be speaking to the king that way.

Isaac, not surprisingly, loves a good debate.

Adler, GableStage’s artistic director and a man who is as liberal as Isaac once was conservative, savored the verbal jousting they did during rehearsals for Side Man.

“He knows exactly how to pull my chain,” Adler says with a laugh. “Intelligence is the cornerstone of all great actors, and he’s bright as hell.

“He has relentless ambition but with so much charm. He’s very hard to say no to. He has incredible raw talent and magnetism that is very rare in a young actor along with relentless energy, perseverance and ambition. I see his growth both onstage and off. He’s mature in both places.”

Part of his growth, of course, will necessarily involve dealing with the rejections that are part of any actor’s life. His career is still too new, his string of successes solid, so it’s anyone’s guess how failure will shape him. But director Michael John Garcés, who picked him for When It’s Cocktail Time in Cuba after Isaac flew to New York at his own expense to compete with a pool of seasoned Manhattan actors for the role, believes his character will see him through.

“Oscar is realistic, but he’s so willing to go the whole nine yards,” Garcés says. “He didn’t go out when he was in the show here. His focus earned the respect of the other actors, some of whom have been working in New York for 30 years.

“He hasn’t had a lot of blows yet, when the career knocks the wind out of you. But he has talent, determination and focus, and if he has perseverance – my intuition is that he does have it – he could achieve a lot.”

FAMILY TIES

His father and namesake, Baptist Hospital intensive-care physician Oscar Isaac Hernandez, couldn’t be more proud. (Isaac doesn’t use the family surname in order to avoid, in his words, being “put in that Hispanic actor box.”)

“I’m ecstatic that he’s probably going to be going to the most prestigious drama school in the United States,” he says. “School will help him focus his energies and give him discipline. He’s got the raw material and the drive.”

Isaac’s mother, Maria, divorced from his father since 1992, is a kidney-transplant recipient who acknowledges that she’ll miss her son if he moves to New York. But, she adds, she wants him “to live out his dreams. He amazes me every day. He calls me every day. I’m very proud of him.”

Even the other guys in The Blinking Underdogs are fans of Isaac’s acting, though it could take him away from South Florida just as the band appears to be, Isaac says, on the brink of signing a recording deal (it has already put out its own CD, The Last Word, with songs, lead vocals and even cover photography by Isaac.

“Oscar’s the leader of the band, a great musician who amazes me and motivates us,” says sax player Keith Cooper. “I’ve been to see every one of his plays. He’s a phenomenal actor.

“I completely buy into his role in every play. As close as I am to him, I forget it’s Oscar.”

His South Florida theater colleagues credit that to Isaac’s insatiable desire to learn and grow.

Gail Garrisan, who is directing him in Donnie and One of the Great Ones for Winter Shorts, observes, “It’s not often that you find a young actor who is willing to listen and who doesn’t think he knows everything. He loves the work.

“He really brought the young man in Side Man to life. When I saw it in New York, it seemed to be the father’s play. When I saw it here, I felt it was his [Isaac’s] play.”

Oye Rep’s John Rodaz, whom Isaac calls “the best director I’ve ever worked with,” gave the actor his first important job in Sleepwalkers at Area Stage. They met when Isaac came to see Area’s production of Oleanna and the actor, knowing Rodaz ran the theater, introduced himself.

“He has so much energy and such a sparkling personality,” Rodaz says. “He knows how to move in the world. He seems to take advantage of every situation in a good way; he’s not a cold, calculating person who’ll stab you in the back.

“[But] he wants it so badly. Everything he does, he’s the leader. When I was 21, I was taking naps.”

Rodaz coached Isaac on his Juilliard monologues and found the experience energizing.

“I got chills just watching him. That happens so rarely. I was so exhilarated when I came home that I just had to go out and run. You just know he’s got all the tools.”

Christine Dolen is The Herald’s theater critic.

###

#oscar isaac #vintage #juilliard #blinking underdogs #area stage company #john rodaz #gablestage #when it's cocktail time in cuba #side man #arrivals and departures #this is our youth #praying with the enemy #sleepwalkers #private wars #winter shorts #the miami herald

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notforyoureyeye · 3 years

Text

Job hunting update : No make up! No hair down! Male bathroom and male pronounce!

[In pic : Tried all these shirt and trousers today with no make up and hair tied back to look less "Feminine" as what the CEO wants me to do if I start this job. So I did all practice even speaking (manly) in front of mirror. Felt shit yeah]

So it finally happened but unexpectedly with new job came up after all nice interviews in past weeks with many companies but never got called back but finally found an interview that will answer the result after interview sessions.

Which always took 45 mins to 2-3 hours per time with each company, I don't know why this is so extra for me than other candidates. I blamed it to my gender identity where (cishet) companies always gave attention and feel excited to see a "crossing gender human being" that's why it's always new for me especially when you're an ordinary trans in career like normal cis.

I did twice teaching performance and interview for their staff (I applied for a teacher again in my life) then the principal or CEO just decided to give me an interview personally. Now it made sense to me that why all other female candidates just finished off in an hour and go home while I waited from 9 am to 2 pm to finish.

Here to make it short, yes the first team really like me teaching in English but I assumed they cannot decide themselves to / if they should give me a big pass and hire me because of my gender (my first guess) and BINGO its true because the CEO spoke out about it later for second interview personal with other senior. Here's what they said.

" Your teaching is great and energetic and easy to understand BUT"

F*** what about but? (I swore in my head)

Principal continued "You know we have organization culture and as you saw in the news about our school"

(I knew, that homophobia lessons that people talked and criticized over the internet)

"We hope you know that's not true as we don't have anything to discriminate you and we're open more for now " she tried to make it sounded like less judgemental.

"The old cultures if our school is strict and traditional.... BUT you know I really want you to work with us because you're very talented and interesting, we just need you to follow our organization culture like...

I wanted you to dress as a man, saying "Krub" (male pronounce that actually always been spoken after every sentence to make it sound politely like sir and maam but in Thai these kinds of word have gender but depends on the gender of a person who speaks) instead of "Ka" for female speaker.

Now I tried to sell out but strongly show them about my perspective about being a transgender or LGBTIQ, I said "I'm sure some students like me or my gender will need a teacher who understands them and instead of bash them with bad words and turn them into a classroom clown just because they're different, so I sure will do my role to support the community and help them to feel comfortable with who they are. And support them, if you hire me, I'll help this part out for your school to be a better place for everyone and genders"

They seemed not interested or not even give any F. So they give me conditions, told me it I could do it for school, then nothing to worry, I can start my job this Monday as an examination teacher who brief all knowledge in English before students will get ready for official exam for high school kids.

But here what I have to follow :

1. Dress as a man (according to my original birth sex) with options (1) White shirt and black trousers with black leather shoes and ugly enormous school tie - or- (2) Sport / warm up suit / I chose warm up, it's equally Unisex, so not that bad.

2. Tie my hair back (easy I can do it, expecting my hight ponytail betch!)

3. No make up (screaming)

4. Saying Krub (the big part of torturing)

5. Avoid come out of my true identity like when a student asks me I have to tell something else but not "I am a transgender"

5 are enough, I made it professionally and confidently until interview ends (as I always did in many before) "Behave appropriately" they mean.

I cried walking out the room, straight to my car, while walking pass a security and had to lied him I cried because I was happy I got a job, the fact is I was crying because I felt very shit and unfair and unaccepted. Not easy to be a human, more xxxx2 on if you are living in society like this. It's true that this world isn't fair. I seek for better life bit sometimes life isn't easy like that so.. Haha

I told them I need time to think about the conditions (you guys have to understand that here is really hard to get a job after pandemic and since I'm homosexual and out-showed on my appearance, many rejection. So when I have a job comes to me like this I have to be careful and not miss a chance to make money to survive to pay my rent, hormones other things.

I asked if I can start a job at 16th because it's the middle of the month because I might open for other choice next week, if no ones call me I guess I have to take this school job to survive and have money for my rental and expenses.

Let see what will happen.

I did try to dress up with shirt today and tied my hair back with no make up on that pic. I'm super anxious if I look like a man or a freak :/

#Transgender #Trans #Mtf #M2f #LGBT #Transgirl #Transwoman

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loverspersonas · 3 years

Text

the most beautiful moment in life | part vii

pairing: ot7? x reader

genre: hyyh au, high school au, angst, drama, fluff, smut?

length: 5k

summary: Eight strangers with different stories happen to meet one day, by fate or some kind of cruel, exquisite happenstance, and realize that they’re not as different as they thought.

↳series masterlist

“So it was under this character?”

“Yes,” you answered.

“And it was in English?”

“Yes,” Seokjin said.

“Spelt exactly like this?”

“Yes, Taehyung, okay?” you exclaimed, exasperated. “We covered this already. We were under the bridge by the river and we saw it on the graffiti wall.”

The next day at school, the eight of you met in the library after you and Seokjin had called in a meeting. The way you spoke about it made it sound like you were some sort of breakfast club. You had met in detention, after all. Maybe you could even form a band like they did in the movies.

Taehyung gave a noncommittal shrug. “Just making sure we don’t miss anything.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” the librarian appeared in front of your table, shooting a scalding look between all of you. “This is a library, and we don’t tolerate noise here.”

“Would you look at that,” Yoongi said dryly without looking at her. “Must’ve slipped our mind.”

He didn’t bother hiding any irritation in his voice, so the librarian opened her mouth to retort until Namjoon started with a polite smile, “We’re sorry. We’ll keep it down.”

That seemed to be reassuring enough for her, because she walked away. Leave it to Namjoon to pacify any of the teachers.

“Isn’t it kind of weird that we didn’t notice it before?” Jimin asked in a lower voice.

“We were a little distracted,” Namjoon said. “And it was dark.”

“What if it wasn’t there before?” Hoseok asked.

Jungkook frowned. “Meaning what? Someone wrote it afterwards?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “No, it magically appeared there overnight, Jungkook. Yes, someone put it there.”

There was something you didn’t like about his tone. Something about his mood had been off all morning. He could’ve been sarcastic to anyone else, but to you, Jungkook was a little different. You felt almost defensive about him. “You know, that attitude isn’t very helpful,” you spoke pointedly.

Yoongi’s expression was as dry as sand as he looked at you. ”Sorry, did I hurt your feelings, princess?”

It was clear since your first conversation that the two of you would have a kind of relationship where teasing and picking at each other would become a norm. But you hadn’t realized before that he would have these major mood swings. You glanced at him in slight disbelief. “I told you not to call me that.”

“And I told you I don’t care—“

“Guys, really?” Namjoon said, looking between you. “Can we get through a conversation without you two biting each other’s heads off?”

“If one of us stops acting like an ass,” you muttered under your breath.

“Or if one of us stops being such an entitled princess,” Yoongi retorted, apparently having heard your comment.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said, his eyes holding something like a warning.

The older boy let out a sigh and grumbled, “Fine.”

“Back to the main point,” Jimin spoke slowly, like he was making sure you and Yoongi were finished. “Smeraldo. We’re assuming it’s an artist. But none of us have ever heard of him?”

“Or her,” you corrected.

He nodded at you. “Right. Or her.”

“It could be a small artist,” Taehyung said. He was rolling a coin around the table, not so concerned about the noise it was making. “You know, like a local thing. They don’t have much of an online presence normally.”

“Explains why I couldn’t find anything on google,” Namjoon added.

“Then how do we find them?” Jungkook asked.

“The old fashioned way. Look through books, magazines, shops or galleries. Maybe even more graffiti locations.”

Taehyung gave a small sigh. “I forgot how difficult life was before the internet.”

You shot him an amused glance, to which he gave you a sarcastic boxy smile. “Ever the dramatic, Tae.”

“How did the painting end up here?” Seokjin asked. “At Sky Academy of all places.”

There was a small gap as most of you pondered over it. Then Hoseok asked, “As in, what if somehow the academy is connected to the artist?”

“Maybe.”

You gazed around the table for a bit, watching your own expression being mirrored. Seokjin had a good point. What if Smeraldo was associated with the academy? It could make sense since all kinds of people and places endorsed the brand that was Sky. Did that mean that it was just a coincidence you had come across that painting? Or had it been left there intentionally?

You broke out of your thoughts as Yoongi shifted in his chair, grabbing his things as he got up. “Well, you guys have fun with your little research project.”

“Where are you going?” Jimin asked.

“History.” His eyes flicked in your direction. “Which I currently have a 90 average on, to all those who doubted me.”

You held back a scoff, shooting him a fake smile. “Who did you have to pay to change your grade?”

He looked like he wanted to make a retort equally snarky, but settled with mimicking your fake smile, though his was much colder.

Taehyung watched him leave before looking back at the rest of you. “I can really feel the love here.”

It had been a while since you last found yourself on the rooftop of the academy’s main building. Students weren’t typically allowed access to it, except for the gardening club who had done a very nice job of decorating the place with green and shades of purples and pinks and yellows. You loved breathing in the air from up here, where the floral scent fused with the breeze. It was also quiet, and so ideal for when you wanted to think or be on your own.

Which seemed to be often these days.

“Hey.”

The voice startled you a little, but your shoulders sunk in relief when it was just Jungkook walking towards you.

“How’d you know where to find me?” you asked.

“I saw you leave,” he said, sitting down next to the ledge you were occupying. “Not very stealthily, might I add.”

You were downstairs with him and a few of the others and were about to go to the cafeteria for lunch, when you found yourself abruptly wanting to come up here instead. You rolled your eyes slightly. “I’ll work on it. We seem to have thing for rooftops, huh.”

He looked around the vast space, at the plants and the glass ceiling cover with a newfound amazement. “I didn’t know we could come up here.”

You couldn’t help but find his innocent fascination a little amusing, but refreshing too. “Me either. Not until last year when Min-hyuk—“ Now, you remembered why you’d also been avoiding the roof. “We stumbled upon it trying to outrun the football team.”

Jungkook noticed the break in your sentence and your mood, but didn’t comment on it. “They’re that bad, huh?” he joked.

“You have no idea.” You glanced sideways at him. “Say… how come you’re not on any sports team? You look like you could be a jock.”

And you meant it, especially in this lighting that was doing wonders for his side profile. If he wasn’t such an introvert and recluse, he could very well fit in with the sports crowds. You don’t think you noticed it before, but Jungkook was handsome. Soft, shiny hair, a sharp nose and jawline. Not to mention, he was well on his way to being built like an athlete.

He snorted. “I thought jocks were obnoxious and dumb.”

Your mouth formed into somewhat teasing smile. “But you’d be a nice jock.”

“An oxymoron,” he said, returning it with a laugh. He cleared his throat a little as the laugh died down. “Min-hyuk was nice, wasn’t he?”

Your demeanour lost every trace of amusement. “Everyone’s nice at first. Not everyone stays nice.”

“You did.”

At first, you didn’t say anything, didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you realized it was harder to talk about yourself, especially personal things like insecurities. Was that what Min-hyuk had meant in that one argument when he’d called you unattached and indifferent?

“Can I ask you something?” you started. “When you were on the roof that night, if I hadn’t been there... what would you have done?”

He turned away from you, staring into space as he thought about it. “I don’t know. I feel like if it had been any other day, it would’ve been different. But that was the day we all met. When we found that first painting. It doesn’t make sense, but something kept telling me to hold on a little longer. And then you showed up and it was almost like a sign.”

“I have been called many things,” you mused. Somewhere underneath, maybe you were even amused or flattered. “A sign is not one of them.”

“It’s hard to explain,” he ended up saying.

“Most things are.”

You weren’t going to push him to talk about that night anymore. It was his lowest and darkest point. But you were glad he’d found something to cling to, whether it had been the words transpired between you two on the other roof, or the ambiguous hwa yang yeon hwa. That sliver of hope was like a raft in the middle of the worst kind of ocean. Staying afloat in the storm that was your mind was a struggle you knew all too well.

“Yeah.” His voice trailed off for a bit, like he was gathering courage to ask his next question. You could feel him watching you, as though expectantly. “Were you expecting someone else to come up here?”

“No.” As you turned your had to look his way, you bit back a smile, happy that nothing about it felt forced. “But I’m glad it was you.”

Slowly, his mouth curved into a similar smile, and you think you would’ve just stayed that way if you didn’t turn back to the skyline.

Jungkook released a wistful sigh. “The sky’s really nice from up here. No wonder the garden club doesn’t want to share.”

You laughed. “Right?”

“I hate this,” Jimin said for what you were almost certain was the 500th time.

“The hospital?” You left the elevator of the said memorial hospital first, stopping when you realized the boy wasn’t walking with you. “You’ve said that already.”

He only began walking down the hallway after he noticed the expectant look you were shooting him. “No, the paint on these walls. What is that, eggshell white? It’s atrocious.”

“Okay, first, I really liked your usage of atrocious. And second, relax a little, Jimin.” The tension set in his shoulders was obvious not just to you but the staff and visitors passing by. Granted, hospitals had that sort of effect, but he didn’t need to be this anxious before he even stepped foot in the doctor’s office. “This place doesn’t hate you as much as you hate it.”

He scoffed. The sleeves of his sweatshirt were long enough for him to keep pulling and tugging at. “That’s hard to believe. If the building was alive, I’m sure it would spit me out instantly. I’m like that piece of cardamom you accidentally bite on.”

“You don’t like cardamom?”

“It’s possibly the only thing more atrocious than this paint. How can you like it?”

After the sharpness in his voice and the brief silence that followed, you asked, “How’re you feeling now?”

He wouldn’t look your way, but the blush staining his cheeks was obvious. With his shoulder, he gave you a light push before speeding up. “Shut up.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” You let out a small laugh, picking up your pace to match his. If only you were blessed with legs as long as his. “I got you to loosen up a little.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. You let him speak to the receptionist on the floor as you lingered by the side, walking back and forth with your hands in your pockets. He returned to your side a few minutes later, and somehow the anxiety was now practically radiating off of him.

“So, have you always come here alone?” you decided to speak to get his nerves down.

“My parents used to come with me,” Jimin answered. “Then they got busy and… well, I didn’t feel like their presence was helping anyway.”

You raised a brow. “And mine does?”

He pursed his lips together, finally looking at you. You noticed then that he wasn’t much taller than you. Sure, you usually wore boots with platform heels, but out of all the boys, he might’ve been closest in height to you. “I’m not sure yet. I just know that when I ran into you last time… it didn’t feel so horrible to be here.”

“Park Jimin?” A nurse with a clipboard was looking around the waiting area.

Jimin released a breath before stepping forward. “That’s me.”

She nodded at him. “The doctor will see you now.”

As soon as she left, you noticed that Jimin was hesitating to follow her. You came forward to stand beside him, and touched his arm lightly. It seemed to bring him out of some kind of trance. When his gaze found yours, you tried for something like an encouraging smile. “I’ll wait out here.”

Finally, he managed to nod, slowly walking in the direction the nurse had gone in.

While you waited, you found yourself roaming the floor in your boredom. No one paid you any attention, so you didn’t think it was a problem. As you were walking, eyes moving with the patterns on the floors, there was something like an itch in the back of your mind. Like something in your memory being tugged forward.

That was when the floor, the walls, the rooms and posters you passed, all became a familiar sight. Too familiar for someone who tried to avoid the hospital in general. You swore you could even hear someone saying your name. Until you realized that someone was actually saying your name now.

There was a woman in a white coat and a long black ponytail offering you a friendly smile. “Y/N. I thought I recognized you.”

You took a moment to gather your thoughts from inside your head to acknowledge her appearance. “Dr. Kim.”

“It’s been quite a while.” Her brow furrowed. “While it is good to see you, I hoped you didn’t need to come back here.”

“I’m not here for me,” you said quickly. “I’m here for a friend. As moral support.”

“Of course.” As she stepped closer, her voice lowered a little. "Can I ask though… how are you doing? The migraines haven’t come back? If your prescription’s out, I can get you—“

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, hoping she understood that you didn’t want to talk about that. “I’m—I’m fine for now.”

She looked at you before sighing sympathetically. “I know you refused to see the psychologist I recommended, but I do hope you’ve been talking to someone.”

With a careless shrug, you said, “My guidance counsellor is trying, for sure.”

The way she was looking at you made it seem like she was debating whether or not to continue. “After the night they brought you in, when I actually had the chance to speak with you…” Her mouth turned into a contemplative frown. “I could just tell there was something more. I’d hoped therapy would help.”

Now, it was your turn to frown. The discomfort was like an itch on your skin, but you tried to ignore it, forcing a confused smile instead. “Help with what? I’m fine, Dr. Kim. It was just a little scratch.”

“Some wounds run deeper than you think,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on yours until she tore them away, and her face regained some lightheartedness. “Have you visited that boy recently?”

At first, the abrupt change in topic took you aback. Then you shot her a puzzled look. “Boy?”

“I know you didn’t want anyone to know it was you leaving flowers in his room, but his family really appreciated it—“

“Y/N.” Jimin reemerged by your side, his gaze then landing on the older woman he too recognized. “Dr. Kim. I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

Dr Kim smiled at him. “I presume that you’re the friend who needed moral support.”

He laughed, only with a tinge of uneasiness as his hand moved to the back of his neck. “That would be correct.”

“Well, I’m glad.” She looked from him to you, eyes fixating on yours with something you didn’t fully understand, or didn’t fully want to understand. “I hope you can do the same for each other.”

Jimin waited until she was out of sight before turning to you. “What did she mean by that? How do you know her?”

“She was my old family doctor,” you lied. “How did it go?”

“Oh,” he said, as though remembering why he was even there. "Better than I thought it would. It was just a checkup.”

You started to nod and then your eyes caught a glimpse of the paper he was trying to tuck into his pocket. The kind of paper you were quite used to seeing yourself. “You got a prescription. Jimin… you’re not—“

“It’s nothing serious, Y/N,” he said, lips tugging into a little smile. “Just something for my throat.”

He did that a lot, you realized. Answering with a charming smile to distract the person from the actual answer. You wouldn’t press on, even though you wanted to. A part of your mind was still stuck on some of Dr Kim’s words.

“Come on,” Jimin said, tugging your arm forward. “They’re still serving bagels.”

When you reached home, the lights were on and your mother was sitting on the sofa in the living room. And you would’ve been at least a little surprised, but you were a little distracted.

“Where have you been?” she demanded, getting to her feet. “You didn’t answer your phone.”

“My phone was dying,” you replied distantly as you removed your shoes and jacket. “I didn’t see.”

She released a sigh. “Look, you can be mad all you want, but at least text me where you are or that you’re okay.”

You finally stopped and glanced at her briefly. “I was at the hospital.”

Suddenly, your mother’s voice dropped. You couldn’t read her face, but she swallowed almost nervously. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

“A friend didn’t want to go alone.”

Her eyes widened. “Your prescription. I completely forgot.”

“It’s fine. I got it already.”

She stood there like she still wanted to say something else, but wasn’t sure how. “But is everything okay… with you?”

“I saw Dr. Kim,” you decided to say. Maybe because you wanted to make sense of what she’d said, and because there was a chance, your mother might know something. She’d been there that night in the ER with you. “She said something, and it was kind of strange…” You shook your head. “You know what, it’s probably nothing.”

You turned to leave when your mother spoke again. “I know that I haven’t talked about the night they brought you there.” You opened your mouth to tell her you didn’t want this conversation again, but she raised her hand to stop you. “It’s not that I don’t care, I just—I thought it was better that way for you. I wanted you to move on with your life.”

For the longest time, that was what you wanted too. And for a longer time, you’d really just wanted to hear from her. You tried for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’m starting to think that you can’t really move forward without looking back first. I’m tired. I think I’ll head to bed now.”

“Y/N.” You turned halfway, waiting for what else your mother had to say. She hesitated, unfolding her arms from her chest, and finally met your gaze. “I didn’t mean what I said the other day.”

You found that your voice wasn’t working in that moment. And maybe that was because you didn’t know what to say to her. So, you glanced at her another time before heading to your room.

The last thing you wanted that night was to leave the apartment to find yourself at a park near the Academy. What you wanted was a nice bath, to watch an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, maybe even a bowl of ramen. But the universe didn’t want those things for you, because as soon as you were getting ready for bed, your phone lit up with a text. And normally, you would’ve just ignored it, but you knew it would stay in the back of your mind like an itch you couldn’t get rid of.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too late that buses had stopped running, and that your mother had already retired to her room. You found yourself at the park about a half hour later, and a familiar figure by the swings.

“If you were anyone else, I would think you brought me out here to murder me.”

Yoongi turned his head at your voice. Although, it wasn’t too chilly that night, he was wearing a wool beanie. “Why do you assume I didn’t?”

You gave a small hum. “You don’t give off murderer vibes. You’re more… gothic, underground rapper.”

His hands were in the pockets of his jacket, expression maybe just slightly amused though the streetlights weren’t bright enough to be sure. “How long did you take to come up with that?”

You might’ve retorted if it was another time, but it was late and a part of you didn’t want to agree to his message, asking you if you meet, but another part did want to despite any better judgement you might’ve had. “I don’t have a lot time before my mother notices I’m not in my room. And if you don’t kill me now, she most definitely will.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well,” you said with a shrug. “You can’t always be a princess.”

He paused for a second. “I was being an ass earlier.”

Good, you thought. He caught on to your jab at him. “When? I didn’t notice.”

There was a noise of disbelief as his hands fell at his side. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Wait,” you found yourself saying. Maybe it wasn’t so tactful to respond with sarcasm when someone was trying to be serious. At least, not all the time. “You wanted to apologize, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Who said anything about apologizing?”

You raised a brow. “So, you dragged me all the way out here this late at night because you didn’t want to apologize?”

He gave a half frustrated sigh. “I wasn’t trying to sound like a jerk. Sometimes I’m thinking about something else and it just… happens without me even realizing it.”

You started to nod in understanding. “You project.”

He frowned. “What?”

“You project your feelings on to other people. Even when they’re not who the feelings are directed at.” You shrugged at his surprised expression. “That’s what you were doing earlier, wasn’t it?”

“I wasn’t mad at any of you,” he said finally, sighing to himself. He brushed some of the hair out his eyes. “There’s just—other things I’m dealing with right now.”

You wanted to feel for him, and deep down, you probably did. But you didn’t want to let people off for being cruel just because they thought they were allowed to. You didn’t want to do that anymore. “That’s not an excuse to be mean.”

“I know.” At least, he had the decency to sound like he meant it. He didn’t meet your eyes as he went on, instead glancing at his feet. “Sorry about what I said to you.”

Suddenly, Yoongi wasn’t the only one who felt awkward with apologies. You forced something in between a scoff and a laugh. “Please, it’s not like you hurt my feelings or something.”

“I didn’t think so. But you probably wanted to hear it, didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes, smirking a little as he saw your expression. “Don’t even deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest. “Yes, Yoongi. Thank you for stroking my ego with a half decent apology.”

His expression actually became slightly incredulous and offended. “Half decent? I had to ask Namjoon how to do it.”

Raising your eyebrows partly from surprise and partly because that was the first time you’d heard of anyone asking for instructions on how to apologize, you said, “So, you’ve already practiced this before, possibly more than once, and yet you’re still this unrehearsed?”

“Okay, fuck off,” he scoffed. When you started to laugh, you were sure he was actually going to punch you. “I’m not good at talking to people. Sue me.”

“Well, I can’t for that,” you said with a shrug, the laughs gone but a smile still lingering. You grabbed on to one of the swings, settling into it. “It would be too hypocritical.”

“What, you?” Yoongi said with skepticism. He followed your actions, taking the empty swing beside you. “Please, you're Sky’s favourite girl. You don’t even have to try, and people will fall at your feet.”

It was funny how easily moods could go from amused to sour. “Everyone keeps saying that,” you said under your breath.

“What?”

“It’s not like that.” Shaking your head, you tucked some loose hairs from your ponytail behind your ears. “Not anymore, at least. Everyone keeps imagining this past version of me, but present me is someone else, and I—I’m so confused which one I am or I’m supposed to be.”

It had to be something in the air, you told yourself, that was making you open up this. It had to be, because you didn’t randomly just burst out with your thoughts. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d already talked to Yoongi about serious things once. Because he seemed like someone who wouldn’t make fun of you or be condescending. He seemed like someone who could try and relate.

“Well, which one do you like more?” he asked after a second.

At first, the question took you by surprise, because no one had ever asked you anything like it. But you knew the answer without having to think. “Neither.”

“Why?”

Because they’re either fake or distorted beyond recognition. “I don’t know.”

The swing continued to move without you controlling it, and could feel his hooded gaze on you, both calculating and curious. “Why were you in the middle of the highway?”

“What?”

“The night we all met at the river. What were you doing?”

“I don’t have a death wish,” you said darkly as soon as you sensed the undertones in his voice. The same undertones everyone at Sky, including people who’d been your friends, had shown to you the previous year.

Yoongi didn’t argue with you. His swing wasn’t moving anymore, so he sat there patiently, hands still folded in his pockets. “Then what were you doing? And don’t say you don’t know.”

“I was thinking,” you answered finally.

His mouth quirked up slightly. “Only for you would something so normal actually become dangerous.”

The glance you cast at him was part affronted. “What does that mean?”

With a sigh, he shook his head. “It means don’t hate yourself because you think everyone around you does.”

You glanced at him a little surprised. “How straightforward.”

But it wasn’t quite exactly that. It wasn’t that you hated yourself in a pitying way, or that made you want sympathy from other people. It just felt like there was something like poison rooted in the back of your mind, the tiniest drop that was touching every other part of you. At least then you could tell yourself that there was a reason for everything bad that had come your way, even if it meant it was your own fault.

“But true. Not everyone hates you, Y/N.”

In the back of your mind, you realized it was one of the rare times he actually said your name. “You don’t?”

“I apologized to you, didn’t I?” he said as though it answered the question.

“But you never did? Not even before?”

He shrugged, as though the answer wasn’t as important to him as it was to you. “I didn’t know you enough to hate you. And neither does anyone else.”

You didn’t say anything at first, letting the creaking of the swings’ chains fill the empty space instead. “I thought you said you didn’t care. About any of this.”

He sighed, like you were a child who had too many questions that he didn’t want to deal with. “Back to this, are we?”

As you turned your head to look at him, you narrowed your eyes a little. “You know, you’re really good at diverting, too.”

While throwing a grin at you, he said, “Thanks, I’ve had a lot of practice.”

But you knew that him trying to divert from the topic wasn’t because it was a bore to him. You’d spent a lot of time pretending to care about things yourself. Somehow, you could tell the difference even now. “You do care,” you said again. “At least a little. Or you wouldn’t have been there at the river with the rest of us.” You wouldn’t have pushed me out of the way of that car.

“Believe what you want, princess,” Yoongi said with another eye roll.

This time, you chose to ignore the nickname, and instead, you grinned at him cheekily, pushing your swing further. “You know what? I’m going to get you to admit it.”

He scoffed lightheartedly, in a way that told you this was amusing to him, and looked at you still swinging. “Don’t hurt yourself trying.”

“Some day,” you emphasized. “You’re going to admit that you care. That Min Yoongi has a heart after all, and it’s so big and capable of— wait, where are you going?"

“To find somewhere this conversation won’t follow me.”

As he got up from the swing and started walking out of the sand box, you were watching him only with the faintest incredulous expression. “You’re hilarious.”

chapter vi // chapter viii (coming soon)

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years

Text

The Boundless Optimism of BTS

IT IS THE MORNING OF CHUSEOK, A KOREAN HARVEST FESTIVAL akin to Thanksgiving, and the members of BTS would normally be spending it with their families, eating tteokguk, a traditional rice-cake soup. Instead, Jin, 28; Suga, 27; J-Hope, 26; RM, 26; Jimin, 25; V, 24; and Jung Kook, 23, are working. Practicing. Honing their choreography. In a few days, the biggest musical act in the world will perform in the live-stream concert that, for now, will have to stand in for the massive tour they spent the first part of this year rehearsing. At this moment, they’re seated inside Big Hit Entertainment headquarters in Seoul, South Korea, the house they built, dressed mostly in black and white, ready to answer my questions. They’re gracious about it. And groggy.

Before I’m done speaking with them for this story, BTS will have the number-one and number-two songs on the BillboardHot 100, a feat that’s been achieved only a handful of times in the sixty-odd years the chart has existed. Their next album, Be, is weeks away from being released, and speculation about the record, the tracklist, the statement, is rampant across the Internet. BTS are, to put it mildly, huge.

There is something about complete world domination that can really cement a friendship. What jumps out at me as I connect with the members of BTS is their level of comfort with one another. Tension has a way of making itself evident—even over Zoom, even through a translator. There’s none to be found here. They are relaxed in the manner of family. Lounging with their arms around each other’s shoulders, tugging on each other’s sleeves, fixing each other’s collars. When they speak about one another, it is with kindness.

“Jimin has a particular passion for the stage and really thinks about performance, and in that sense, there are many things to learn from him,” J-Hope says. “Despite all the things he has accomplished, he still tries his best and brings something new to the table, and I really want to applaud him for that.”

“Thank you for saying all these things about me,” Jimin responds.

Jimin turns his attention to V, explaining that he is “loved by so many” and describing him as one of his best friends. Suga jumps in, sharing that Jimin and V fight the most among the group. V replies, “We haven’t fought in three years!” They tell me this distinction now belongs to Jin and Jung Kook, the oldest and youngest members. “It all starts as a joke, but then it gets serious,” Jimin says.

Jin agrees and recounts what their arguments sound like. “Why did you hit me so hard?” he says, before mimicking Jung Kook’s response: “I didn’t hit you that hard.” And then they start hitting each other. But not that hard.

Since the start of their careers, BTS have shown a certain confidence in their aesthetic, their performances, and their music videos. It’s right there in the name: BTS stands for “Bangtan Sonyeondan,” which translates to “Bulletproof Boy Scouts,” but as their popularity grew in English-speaking markets, the acronym was retrofitted to mean “Beyond the Scene,” which Big Hit has described as “symbolizing youth who don’t settle for their current reality and instead open the door and go forward to achieve growth.” And their affection with one another, their vulnerability and emotional openness in their lives and in their lyrics, strikes me as more grown-up and masculine than all the frantic and perpetual box-checking and tone-policing that American boys force themselves and their peers to do. It looks like the future.

“There is this culture where masculinity is defined by certain emotions, characteristics. I’m not fond of these expressions,” Suga tells me. “What does being masculine mean? People’s conditions vary day by day. Sometimes you’re in a good condition; sometimes you aren’t. Based on that, you get an idea of your physical health. And that same thing applies mentally. Some days you’re in a good state; sometimes you’re not. Many pretend to be okay, saying that they’re not ‘weak,’ as if that would make you a weak person. I don’t think that’s right. People won’t say you’re a weak person if your physical condition is not that good. It should be the same for the mental condition as well. Society should be more understanding.”

When I hear these words in October 2020, from my house in a country whose leader is actively trying to make the case that only the weak die of COVID-19, well, it sounds like the future, too.

IF YOU ARE JUST NOW CONSIDERING GETTING INTO BTS, IT IS natural to feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stuff. It’s a bit like saying, right this second, “Let’s see what Marvel Comics is all about.” In the streaming age, BTS have sold more than twenty million physical units across fourteen albums. Their multi-album concept cycles, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life, Love Yourself, and Map of the Soul, have unfolded over multiple records and EPs. There are collaborations with brands, including a BTS smartphone with Samsung. There is a series of short films and music videos, called BU, or BTS Universe, and an animated universe called BT21, in which they’re all represented by gender-neutral avatars. Their fan base, known as ARMY, is a global cultural movement unto itself.

“Dynamite,” their first English-language single and their first American number one, is pure, ecstatic pop. Shiny and joyful. What sets them apart from many of their peers, and many of the pop acts who achieved worldwide fame before them, is what came earlier. Beneath the sheen and the beats has always been an unflinching examination of human emotion. Their lyrics seek to challenge the conventions of society—to question and even denounce them. BTS’s first single, “No More Dream,” unveiled at their debut showcase in June 2013, concerns the intense pressure South Korean schoolchildren face to conform and to succeed. According to Suga, lyrics about the mental health of young people were mostly absent in Korean pop music. “The reason I started making music is because I grew up listening for lyrics that speak about dreams, hopes, and social issues,” he tells me. “It just came naturally to me when making music.”

Suga’s early ambition of making music didn’t involve him being in a group at all. About a decade ago, in his hometown of Daegu, the fourth-largest city in South Korea, he started recording underground rap tracks under the name Gloss, listening to and learning from the early works of songwriter and producer Bang Si-hyuk, known as Hitman Bang. Bang is the founder and CEO of Big Hit Entertainment. In 2010, Suga, a junior in high school, moved to Seoul to join Big Hit as a producer and rapper. Then Bang asked him to become part of a group, envisioning a hip-hop act with fellow new Big Hit recruits RM and J-Hope. The guys call this “season one” of their development.

“At that time, I don’t think our label exactly knew what to do with us,” RM says. “They just basically let us be and we had some lessons, but we also just chilled and made music sometimes.”

It got more intense. The family grew, occasionally by accident.

V accompanied a friend to a Big Hit casting call in Daegu for moral support and ended up being the person chosen from those sessions.

Jung Kook was signed in a feeding frenzy after being dropped from the talent show Superstar K, fielding offers from numerous entertainment companies before settling on Big Hit because he was impressed by RM’s rapping.

Jimin was a dance student and class president for nine years running at his school in Busan; he auditioned at the behest of his teacher.

And then, to hear him tell it, Jin got picked up off the street. “I was just going to school,” he says. “Someone from the company approached me, like, ‘Oh, this is my first time seeing anyone that looked like this.’ He suggested having a meeting with me.”

“Season two is when we officially underwent hard training,” J-Hope says. “We started dancing, and that’s how I would say our team building started.”

School in the daytime, training at night. “We slept during classes,” V says.

“I slept in the practice studio,” J-Hope counters.

Hitman Bang kept the pressure comparatively low. And he encouraged the guys to write and produce their own music, to be honest about their emotions in their lyrics. Suga is on record saying that no BTS album would be complete without a track that scrutinizes society.

And yet for their new album, Be, they’re putting that aside. Even this has a greater purpose that relates to mental wellness: RM, the group’s main rapper, says, “I don’t think this album will have any songs that criticize social issues. Everybody is going through very trying times right now. So I don’t think there will be any songs that will be that aggressive.”

Though the new rules of COVID-19 mean they can’t come here and promote Be, its first single might not have happened in the first place but for the pandemic. “ ‘Dynamite’ wouldn’t be here if there was no COVID-19,” says RM. “For this song, we wanted to go easy and simple and positive. Not some, like, deep vibes or shadows. We just wanted to go easy.”

Jin agrees. “We were trying to convey the message of healing and comfort to our fans.” He pauses. “World domination wasn’t actually our plan when we were releasing ‘Dynamite.’ ” World domination just happens sometimes. You get it.

MAP OF THE SOUL ONE AIRED VIA THEIR ONLINE FAN PLATFORM and attracted almost a million viewers across 191 countries. The guys say they tried not to think about the enormousness. J-Hope adds, “I felt a little bit more nervous knowing that this was being broadcast live. I actually feel less nervous performing live at a stadium.” Jin replies with a smile, “J-Hope, born to perform at a stadium.”

The graphic layout of the title throws a colon between the final N and E, which makes it look like Map of the Soul On: E, and as I watch it live, as I do in my office at 3:00 a.m. with noise-canceling headphones and a steaming pot of coffee, it feels a lot like I’m watching Map of the Soul on E. It is an explosion of color and fashion and passion, over four gigantic stages, from the boozy swagger of “Dionysus” to the emo-trap introspection of “Black Swan.” Not a step, not a gesture, not a hair is out of place. If there were nerves, they didn’t come through.

There is also, at the end of Map of the Soul One, an intimate version of their 2017 track “Spring Day,” which encapsulates what’s really made BTS stand out. On the surface, it’s about nonspecific love and loss, about yearning for the past. “I think that song really represents me,” says Jin. “I like to look to the past and be lost in it.”

Fair enough, but there is an undeniable allusion, in both the song’s video and its cover concept, to a specific incident in recent South Korean history. “Spring Day” was released just a few years after the sinking of the Sewol ferry, one of the country’s biggest maritime disasters, in which a poorly inspected, overloaded ferry toppled in a sharp right turn. Hundreds of high school students drowned, having obeyed orders to stay in their cabins as the boat was going down. According to some reports, the South Korean government actively tried to silence entertainers who spoke out against it, with the Korean Ministry of Education fully banning the tragedy’s commemorative yellow ribbons in schools. I ask whether it was about a specific sad event, and Jin tells me, “It is about a sad event, as you said, but it is also about longing.” The song kept the disaster front of mind for young Koreans and for the media, indirectly leading to the impeachment and removal of then president Park Geun-hye.

If an overburdened, undermaintained, slow-moving vessel capsizing because of a reckless rightward turn strikes you as somehow symbolic of the country in which BTS are about to explode even further, you won’t hear it from them. “We’re outsiders—we can’t really express what we feel about the United States,” says V. But their actions speak volumes; in the wake of the George Floyd murder and subsequent protests in America, the group made a $1 million donation with Big Hit Entertainment to Black Lives Matter, one that was matched by BTS ARMY.

The fans offer a fascinating inversion of stan culture: Rather than bullying rivals like many other ardent online fan bases do, ARMY have put the positive message of the music into action. Their activism goes deep. Through micro-donations, they’ve regrown rain forests, adopted whales, funded hundreds of hours of dance classes for Rwandan youth, and raised money to feed LGBTQ refugees around the world. Where pop fans a generation ago might have sent teddy bears or cards to their idols for their birthdays, where five years ago they might have promoted a hashtag to get a video’s YouTube viewer count up, for RM’s twenty-sixth birthday in September, international fan collective One in an Army raised more than $20,000 for digital night schools to improve rural children’s access to education during the COVID-19 crisis. ARMY may have even entered the conversation around the 2020 presidential election when hundreds of thousands of Tulsa Trump rally tickets got snapped up online in June. The event’s actual attendance was pathetically low. No particular person or entity claimed credit for this top-notch trolling, but a video urging BTS fans to RSVP to that rally did get hundreds of thousands of views. We have no choice but to stan this fan base.

The relationship is intense. “We and our ARMY are always charging each other’s batteries,” RM says. “When we feel exhausted, when we hear the news all over the world, the tutoring programs, and donations, and every good thing, we feel responsible for all of this.” The music may have inspired the good works, but the good works inspire the music. “We’ve got to be greater; we’ve got to be better,” RM continues. “All those behaviors always influence us to be better people, before all this music and artist stuff.”

Yet for every devoted member of BTS ARMY, there is someone who’s looked right past BTS. Jimmy Fallon, whose Tonight Show hosted the group for a full week this past fall, was one of those people. “Usually if an artist is on the rise, I hear about them ahead of time. With BTS, I knew they had crazy momentum, and I’d never heard of them.”

Here’s a thought that used to be funny to me: There were members of the live audience of The Ed Sullivan Showon February 9, 1964, who weren’t there to see the Beatles. Elvis was in the Army, Buddy Holly was gone, and the three number-one albums in the months before Meet the Beatles! were an Allan Sherman comedy record, the West Side Story original cast recording, and Soeur Sourire: The Singing Nun. America had left rock ’n’ roll behind for the moment, and with the culture aimless and fragmented, it wasn’t quite sure what to pick up in its place. It is possible to imagine that a youngish, reasonably hip, and culturally aware human being might cop a ticket to that week’s show, settle into his seat, and say, “Bring on a medley of numbers from the Broadway musical Oliver! and banjo sensation Tessie O’Shea.”

The instinct is to laugh at that guy, and it’s a good instinct, because what a dope.

And then you become that guy.

Sometimes there is a whole universe alongside your own, bursting with color you’re too stubborn to see, bouncing with joy you think is for someone else, with a beat you thought you were finished dancing to. BTS are the biggest thing on the planet right now, yet the job of introducing them to someone new, particularly in America, seems like it’s never done. Maybe it’s because they are adored by screaming teenagers and we live in a society patriarchal enough to forget that screaming teenagers are nearly always right. Maybe it’s the cultural divide, in a moment when our country is unashamed enough of its own xenophobia to get openly bent out of shape when it has to press 1 for English. Maybe it’s the language barrier, as though we understood a single word Michael Stipe sang before 1989.

Whatever the reason, the result is that you might be missing out on a paradigm shift and a historic moment of pop greatness.

IF BTS SEEM A BIT CAUTIOUS WITH THEIR WORDS PUBLICLY, IT’S because—perhaps more than any other massive pop act in history—they have to be. Shortly after our second meeting, BTS were given the General James A. Van Fleet Award by the U. S.–based Korea Society for their outstanding contributions to advancing relations between the United States and Korea. In his acceptance speech, RM said, “We will always remember the history of pain that our two nations shared together, and the sacrifices of countless men and women,” as seemingly diplomatic and innocuous a statement as he could have made. But because he didn’t mention the Chinese soldiers who died in the Korean War, it didn’t go over well. The Samsung BTS smartphone disappeared from Chinese e-commerce platforms, Fila and Hyundai pulled ads in China that featured the group, the nationalistic newspaper Global Times accused them of hurting Chinese citizens’ feelings and negating history, and the hashtags “BTS humiliated China” and “there are no idols that come before my country” began trending on the social-media site Weibo. The pressure is not small.

Even as the number-one pop group in the world, even with their hard work day in and day out, even with tens of millions of adoring fans redefining the concept of “adoring fans” by literally healing the planet in their name, these guys still suffer from impostor syndrome. RM explains, “I’ve heard that there’s this mask complex. Seventy percent of so-called successful people have this, mentally. It’s basically this: There’s this mask on my face. And these people are afraid that someone is going to take off this mask. We have those fears as well. But I said 70 percent, so I think it’s very natural. Sometimes it’s a condition to be successful. Humans are imperfect, and we have these flaws and defects. And one way to deal with all this pressure and weight is to admit the shadows.”

The music helps. “When we write the songs and lyrics, we study these emotions, we are aware of that situation, and we relate to that emotionally,” J-Hope says. “And that’s why when the song is released, we listen to it and get consolation from those songs as well. I think our fans also feel those emotions, maybe even more than us. And I think we are a positive influence on each other.”

If there’s one thing they’re sacrificing, besides free time and the ability to speak freely without the Chinese foreign ministry releasing an official statement, it’s a love life. I ask about dating, broad questions like “Are you?” and “Is there time?” and “Can you?” and the answer to all of them is pretty clear: “No.” “The most important thing for us now is to sleep,” Jung Kook insists. Suga follows right up with “Can you see my dark circles?” I cannot, because there are none, because flawless skin translates even over Zoom when there’s an ocean between us.

So they’re not, at least publicly, having romantic relationships with anyone. If there is a strong relationship that’s guided their journey into adulthood, it’s with Big Hit. “Our company started with twenty to thirty people, but now we have a company with so many employees,” RM says. “We have our fans, and we have our music. So we have a lot of things that we have to be responsible for, to safeguard.” He considers it for a moment. “I think that’s what an adult is.”

“Our love life—twenty-four hours, seven days a week—is with all the ARMYs all over the world,” RM adds.

In a world that is determined to sand down anything that isn’t immediately recognizable to the average pop-music fan, when it comes to acquainting you with Korean culture, BTS very much do not wanna hold your hand. While the first song on night one of their Tonight Show week was a joyous but expected take on “Dynamite” with Fallon and the Roots, they took some chances during their second performance.

As a friend of mine, a thirty-three-year-old BTS fan in Los Angeles, told me, “The second song they performed was ‘IDOL,’ ” from 2018’s Love Yourself: Answer, “and it celebrated their Korean identity. They performed it in Gyeongbokgung Palace in Seoul. They wore clothes inspired by traditional dresses called hanboks;it was almost entirely in Korean, so it felt super subversive. As a fan, I read it as: ‘Dynamite’ was an invitation, and this is who we are and this is our home.”

“I was a little concerned that people might not understand,” Fallon says. “I was like, ‘There’s nothing in English here.’ But what you see is just pure star power. Pure talent. Immediately, I thought, Oh, this is everything. If you’re that powerful, it transcends language.”

American popular music in the twenty-first century is more fragmented than it has been since . . . well, since Allan Sherman, Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim, and the Singing Nun battled for that number-one spot. The monoculture that the Beatles helped bring on has breathed its last breath. Each of us is the program director for our own private radio station, letting our own past habits and streaming-service algorithms serve up something close to what we want. Which is great, except that huge moments can whiz right past our ears. Each of us, even if we’re more clued in than our parents were when they were our age, can miss some era-defining, excellent shit. Particularly if the radio is our Spotify Discover Weekly, or the Pandora channel based on the band whose T-shirts we wore in college. We can let a moment pass us by if prime time is a Netflix binge, and the Tonight Show hour is spent on one more episode before bed. But we shouldn’t. “Honestly, I think it’s history that we’re living through with BTS,” Fallon says. “It’s the biggest band I’ve seen since I’ve started late night, definitely.”

THERE IS ALSO THE SMALL DETAIL THAT, UNLIKE THE BEATLES AND literally every other worldwide sensation to break in America, BTS don’t particularly need to go to the trouble. They are massive all over the world. Thanks to the recent IPO of Big Hit Entertainment, of which each member is a partner, they are all now incredibly wealthy. (Hitman Bang is the first South Korean entertainment mogul to become a billionaire.) What good is a culture in decline to a pop act this much on the ascent? “When I dreamed of becoming an artist, I listened to pop and watched all the awards shows in the United States. Being successful and being a hit in the U. S. is, of course, such an honor as an artist,” says Suga. “I feel very proud of that.”

They’re breaking out in a country that either worships them or fails to notice them. So do they feel like they’re getting enough respect in America? “How can we win everyone’s respect?” Jin asks. “I think it’s enough to get respect from people who support us. It’s similar everywhere else in the world. You can’t like everyone, and I think it’s enough to be respected by people who really love you.”

Suga agrees. “You can’t always be comfortable, and I think it’s all part of life. Honestly, we are not used to getting a ton of respect from when we first started out. But I think that gradually changes, whether it be in the States or other parts of the world, as we do more and more.”

There is, without a doubt, one colossal, unmistakable sign of respect for a musician: a Grammy. They’ve been nominated only once, and even then it was for best recording package. But their sights are set on a big one next year. RM puts it out there: “We would like to be nominated and possibly get an award.” Dragging the hoary, backward-looking, and Western-focused Grammys into the gorgeous, global world of the present through sheer force of will, talent, and hard work? Stranger things have happened. “I think the Grammys are the last part, like the final part of the whole American journey,” he says with a smile. “So yeah, we’ll see.”

The Recording Academy’s seal of approval is one thing. But BTS have already conquered the world, clowned tyrants, inspired individual fans to perform the small and achievable acts of activism that have collectively begun to save the planet, challenged toxic masculinity by leading with vulnerability, and, along the way, become bajillionaires and international idols. Whether the Grammys are paying attention matters about as much as what an Ed Sullivan audience member expected to see that night in 1964. BTS have already won.

#bangtan #jungkook #jimin #v #suga #jhope #jin #rm #o:esquire #o:interview #201123

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jingyismom · 3 years

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got tagged by the wonderful @mylastbraincql to post 10 Things About Myself, which, are there even 10 things other than cql and writing fanfiction??? let’s find out

1. i don’t want to be one of those people who are like ~i love languages~ but...i do. oops. i’m only fluent in english and french (my college degree), but i’ve put work into at least the basics of...well. this is under a cut so let’s just go: latin (a whole minor’s worth), greek (classical and modern), mandarin, american sign language, spanish, german, sanskrit, and arabic. i particularly love medieval french. i kind of wanted to be a linguist but academia is a hellscape, so i’m just a hobbyist language learner and that’s pretty fun. i need to really work on my spanish and start korean next, but right now my brain is deep in mandarin mode (thanks c-dramas).

2. i wish i had the tenacity and drive to be a musician. i love playing music, my mom started teaching me when i was 4 so i should be super good right? wrong. i still play piano like a 4yo. string bass is my ~instrument but it’s been years since i played it seriously. i am mediocre at guitar and an enthusiastic but unstudied singer. maybe some day i’ll put real work in again but for now that executive dysfunction’s a real bitch, so even thought i am a Music Person, singing in the car is about as wild as i get.

3. i was a substitute teacher for 4...5? years. 4 years of regular substituting here after 1 year of working as a language assistant/substitute english teacher in france. teaching is excellent fun and i love it dearly but the field of education is currently pretty soul-crushing in the US, so i have been trying to figure out what...to do.

4. the town where i lived in france was where jeanne d’arc was captured (i was already a huge fan, and getting to kneel where she prayed her last free prayer was...something. i’m not even religious), and one town over from pierrefonds, the castle where they shot bbc’s merlin. alas, they had just finished shooting the final season when i got there. but it really does Look Like That. once, when i was bringing some friends to see it, we missed our stop and got off the bus at a countryside cemetery (i am a goth, this is my jam), and walked back to pierrefonds, since it was a sunny day. until it started hailing. we took refuge in a spooky, empty church from the 1100s and got to explore some of its catacombs and reliquary. it was an absolutely perfect day.

5. i have never not been a Big Fan of something. i have an entire shelf of Tolkien volumes that has lived in my room since the 6th grade. i used to go to warped tour and san diego comic con every year. i have slept on the sidewalk in line for things...many, many times. but this is somehow the first time i’m...trying to participate in the fan community? trying to contribute and talk to people? it’s wildly nerve-wracking but also SO rewarding because everyone? is so? nice??? i love you all

6. i’m a distant cousin of George Gordon, Lord Byron, and EXCEEDINGLY proud of this fact. he was so ridiculous, and stupid, and marvelous, and queer. sometimes i’m like, it couldn’t have been wilde? or shakespeare? but i do love my horrible cousin. it was shocking studying in athens where they have actual monuments and museum exhibits dedicated to him...i was like...this guy? this drug-addled sex addict? okay...okay, good for you, cuz.

7. really all i want is to make people laugh. i feel like i come across weirdly stiff on the internet, and i have apparently horribly intimidating vibes with new people, but really...i am basically just jack black. i don’t mean that positively or negatively it is just neutrally true. i am a clown.

8. i wish i had cool physical skills like martial arts or dance or even a sport but...my body is...uncooperative. i am not necessarily clumsy or uncoordinated i am just Too Tired. oh, and also i have a funky little arm birth defect which is mostly unnoticeable, just makes me a bit awkward and painful. instead i do grandma things like knitting and sewing, which are cool in their own way. it’s very satisfying to make something with your hands. i’ve made an entire (simple) ren faire costume and edwardian ballgown, as well as lots of various odds and ends. oh and i’m pretty good at makeup! i did wedding makeup for a friend, and not in a “wedding of questionable taste” kind of way. i did lots of research and several practice runs and it was all a very classy vintage affair.

9. if you ask me to pick between books and movies i Cannot. i just...love stories. i love seeing them and hearing them and reading them and telling them. there’s nothing better or more important than stories. whether it’s pacific rim or hamlet, philadelphia story or dogsbody, i cannot live without it.

10. i used to work as a street character at a renaissance faire. please do not hold this against me. if you want some ABSOLUTELY WILD stories (”baaa means no”), just ask

this was wildly difficult and i feel like it swings wildly from depressing and self-effacing to ridiculous bragging but i would like to see my mutuals do it anyway! i’m just gonna randomly tag @valarinde @milkcrates @universesvisiting @cendiar @habibinasir @fapamir if you want a fun little distraction but seriously if you see this and want to do it, i tagged you! you’re tagged!

#tag game #this extremely hard. i do not know if any of this is at all interesting or meaningful #i should have just told funny embarrassing stories probably. oh well #i did not get into family stuff because family is Messy and Not Fun For Parties but i'm by no means opposed to talking about it #if you have any questions about anything #OR if you would like help with learning anything i have mentioned that i have some knowledge of #OR if you would like me to tell fun stories about crazy adventures at faerie festivals or comic cons #or about wild celebrity sightings #or about historical/literary figures and events #JUST ASK!#you want book/movie recs? i'm here #please make use of my largely useless knowledge #sorry i'm such a shakespeare simp....ok not really sorry #i simply find him hilarious #not cql-related #but i feel like many of these things contribute to my enjoyment of cql

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desperateground · 3 years

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since we're doing anti discourse i guess: the antis ive seen on their own blogs (as opposed to other blogs askboxes) seem more concerned with media that portrays pedophilia in a positive light, as that very much can influence people into thinking it isn't THAT bad. If portrayed as the bad thing it is, they dont mind. Personally, do you see a difference in something that goes "heres an adult in love with a child, how sweet" as opposed to "heres an adult in love with a child, isnt that fucked up?"

under a cut cause this got long

I would love to be on the internet where you are, because it sounds a lot more reasonable than the one I live on, where stuff like this just makes me go ???

the thing is that fiction actually does influence people’s perceptions of reality, and we ought to care about that! if a person grows up watching movies where cops break the rules but it’s OK because they’re the good guys; or where stalkerish and manipulative behavior counts as “grand romantic gestures” that obligate a woman to date a man; or where Black people are depicted as uneducated and violent, of course that is going to color their opinions of the world.

and there are a lot of really good conversations being had about issues like that, and we absolutely need to have those conversations about responsible media creation and consumption. this power can be used for good as well as for evil. many people cite shows like Will & Grace as helping turn the tide of public opinion against seeing “homosexuality” as deviant and instead seeing gay people as “normal” and “lovable” and “relatable.” superman was a beloved enough All-American Hero that a storyline where he fights the KKK is credited with helping turn the KKK from a mainstream fraternity into something seen as a fringe hate group.

so i would agree that a giant wave of media with positive depictions of pedophilia would be concerning.

however, we do not currently live in a world where “here’s an adult in love with a child, how sweet” is a major issue in media narratives such that people are absorbing the attitude that pedophilia is fine, cool, and good.

in fact, pedophilia is such a hated subject that we have a whole political movement in my country based on people calling anyone they dislike a “pedophile” and accusing them of all sorts of depraved shit involving children. most people who have sexual inclinations toward children are fully aware that these desires are at odds with society and that they will become pariahs if these desires were known to others.

(In fact, this level of ostracization can put people at a higher risk of offending, because they feel hopeless, have nowhere to turn for support, and figure if they’re going to be a pariah anyway, they may as well do the one thing they can think of that feels good. Forcing conversations about this to go completely underground means that you end up with awful groups like nambla dominating the conversation and convincing lost, lonely, frightened people to hop on board with their dangerous attitudes. if the only people safe to talk to about this stuff are people who will excuse, justify, encourage, and promote offenses against children, it makes sense that people would end up in their grip. You can read more here and here.)

much of the “media” that these “antis” are up in arms about is fan created content intended for a small population. the people creating content that riles up antis generally recognize that this is not mainstream content and use things like tags and content warnings to set it aside from other content. the notion that certain tropes in fanworks are going to bring about a massive cultural shift is a bizarre slippery-slope argument, and i think people's energy would be better focused on problems that are actually currently existing rather than a potential future where a few tags on ao3 have become dominant themes in network television and blockbuster movies.

another issue here is that when an “anti” uses the term “pedophilia,” it’s completely unclear what they are actually referring to. a reasonable person would assume that they mean “a sexual relationship between an adult and a child,” but the definitions of “adult,” “child,” and “sexual relationship” have gotten so blurry within this discourse that it’s impossible to determine what’s being discussed. i’ve seen people claim that any relationship is inherently “pedophilic” if the characters have any sort of age gap, if there is any sort of power imbalance, if they both belong to the same “found family,” or even if one looks younger in appearance.

so when someone says “fictional narratives that depict pedophilia in a positive light,” they may actually be referring to “fictional narratives that depict any relationship I don’t like,” which is such a vague and meaningless statement that it becomes completely useless.

finally, your actual question is whether I personally see a difference between stories where the narrative perspective seems to critique the relationship vs stories where the narrative perspective romanticizes the relationship. i think your question is...hard to answer, because there is just too much there.

first off, it’s not always easy to tell whether a story is “vilifying” vs “glamorizing” something. people watch movies like fight club and take away very different thematic messages about whether the protagonist is someone to admire and emulate. if we say that depictions of abuse are only “good” or “allowed” if the narrative clearly portrays the abuse as “fucked up,” then we’re going to have to establish a High Court of AP English Teachers to determine exactly what narrative devices are employed and how, and that’s just...not...workable.

also, some people like the “fucked up”-ness of these stories; if you’re trying to say that something is bad if people “enjoy it” or “get off” on it or “indulge” in the darkness of the content, then it doesn’t matter if the story itself is wagging its finger at the naughty, naughty reader. the taboo, the erotic, and the deviant are, and have always been, wrapped up in each other. you can depict something as “bad” and yet still “fun;” it becomes a useless distinction when talking about sexual content.

do i personally see a difference, when it comes to my own enjoyment? yeah, absolutely. i stopped watching game of thrones not because it included rape, but because the way the cinematography, musical score, etc. made it clear that the show was expecting me to feel a certain way about those images, and i didn’t appreciate that. i also didn’t appreciate the directorial decision to give more dignity to a dog’s death by cutting to black than to violence against women. i would probably not enjoy a book or movie that’s just about how awesome and fun it is to hurt people; though i did like clockwork orange - i found the narrator abhorrent, but interesting.

but i think trying to split hairs about what does and doesn’t count as Problematic or Allowable Content, or trying to tell people that what they create and/or consume is Bad and they are Bad for doing it, because its inclusion of dark themes is Doing It Wrong - it’s not helpful. it’s impossible to develop a standard for what is “doing it wrong vs doing it right” that makes any sense, and even if you did, enforcing it through campaigns of hatred and social vilification is not going to be effective.

#fandom #discourse #antis #anti anti #fandom discourse

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gossipchii · 3 years

Text

Spectrum

FF.net: here / AO3: here

Characters: Tachikawa Mimi and Takenouchi Sora

Pairing: Sorami

Words: 3100+

Notes: There’s no other explanation to this other than I love these two. And I hope to be more than Mimi.

HAPPY PRIDE! LOVE IS LOVE!

Enjoy!!!

To Mimi, love was something she understood from a young age. It had never been the subject to ask any explanation for; she simply had always embraced it. She felt it in the small things, such as the cherry blossoms growing on the trees during spring, or with the rainbows that came after a big rainstorm.

She had had great teachers, too, the best ones, even. The way her parents loved each other, by how her dad always opened the door, of any kind, to her mom, or left a bouquet of flowers every seventh of the month on their dinner table, as if they had just started dating, made her heart ginormous. She loved love and was not afraid to express it.

She had always had many boyfriends, even if they tended to last a couple of months only, but each one of them Mimi could have sworn at some point of their relationship, had to be the love of her life. Her friends tended to roll their eyes at her, Mimi was a hopeless romantic, and she could not deny it, she did not want to.

When she was eleven, her world turned upside down, when her parents told her they would move to New York, the Big Apple, which she had only seen on movies. She was at shock at first, of course, but she was sure she could handle it. She had always been a sucker for adventures, after all.

"Aren't you scared of learning a new language?" her oldest friend, redhead Sora, was helping her packing. Their mothers had introduced them to each other when Mimi was in diapers, and Sora was only a year older than she was. Mimi's mother was passionate for anything luxurious, and she considered flowers a luxury, she always had. Hence why she had to take Ikebana classes, which was how she met Toshiko, Sora's mother.

They had been best friends ever since.

"I have been practicing a little bit! One, two, three!" She counted with her fingers, in English with a thick Japanese accent, which left Sora speechless. Mimi was her own kind.

"I will really miss you." Sora said after closing the last box in the brunette's room. It felt cold, wrong even.

"Don't be silly, daddy promised we will come visit every summer at least," Sora embraced Mimi, and it was the very first time she had felt sad about moving. New York was exciting, of course, but it did not have Sora.

New York was a whole universe apart from Tokyo. Sure, they were both huge cities, but the mentalities from one another, it was hard to believe they were both under the same sky.

Mimi had learned so much more about love during the six long years she had lived there. For starters, contrary to what most of the media she consumed while growing up had wanted her to believe, sexual orientation was a spectrum, which had as many options as humankind would let it. Mimi had remained a love lover, and that also meant she had, well, experimented here and there. And she had enjoyed every piece of it.

When her parents gave her the option to study her junior year of high school in Japan once again, she accepted without hesitation. New York would always be waiting for her, but Japan felt more distant than ever, and she somehow felt a part of her was missing.

She was especially excited to see her childhood friends, especially Sora, whom she had not seen for two years, but had kept in touch via e-mails and text messages. God bless cellphones and the internet. Sora had told her that she was in a relationship during those years they had been apart but had just broken up.

He had other priorities; Sora explained.

Since Mimi´s parents never had the heart to sell their old apartment, Mimi could have it all for herself, which was a dream for someone who loved experimenting with art like she did. She had seen so many cool ideas on design magazines, she could not wait to bring some western into good old Tokyo.

Sora was waiting for her at the airport, with a very tiny, very discrete, but with the most beautiful handwriting WELCOME HOME MIMI sign. She had written it in English, too. Mimi squealed the moment she saw her and ran as if she was in one of her favorite rom coms, to embrace the redhead.

"It has been ages, Sora, you look fantastic!" and she was not lying. Last time they had seen each other, Sora was fifteen and she was fourteen, during the teenage years, each one counted as at least five. Sora had not grown in height, Mimi was still slightly shorter, but it had always been like that, however, she looked grown, almost adult. Perhaps it was being an Ikebana master daughter, but Sora's posture and presence was impeccable.

"Says Tokyo's favorite princess," her and Sora had always had what Mimi liked to think as a spiritual connection. They were so incredibly different, in every single aspect, however, any time their eyes linked, they could communicate in ways Mimi could not dare to try with anyone else. "Did you seriously only bring a couple luggage?"

"Silly little Sora, the rest is being shipped, obviously!"

It had been a month since Mimi had arrived back to Tokyo, she had had enough time to unpack, and get familiar with the language once again. Classes had also started, and as much as she did not want to admit it, she had felt like an outsider. Sure, she was amicable with the rest of the girls in her class, but she could sense the hypocrisy behind their smiles. Mimi was very sensible with people's vibes, after all.

Sora tried her best to be there whenever she needed her, but Mimi understood she was close to be driven insane. Not only was Sora on her senior year of high school, and applying to the best design schools in Tokyo, but she was still managing to be in the tennis team, help her mom with the school and stay as a top-notch student. Mimi's head was in pain by just imagining it. She was grateful Sora had managed to save that Saturday night just for them, for old time's sake.

"Sorry I'm late! My mom had ordered forget-me-nots for the school, but they sent carnations instead! Can you imagine the chaos? We had to make like a million calls in order to get three hundred forget-me-nots in time for the exhibition next week, I almost had a stroke!"

Sora took out of her bag chips and sodas for their movie night. She also brought out skin care products, since she knew Mimi loved them. That was Sora in a nutshell, always going above and beyond for everyone, but especially for those close to her heart.

"You sound so stressed, and remember, stress is not allowed in the Tachikawa household!" Mimi was already in her PJs, she helped Sora with the snacks, and they both proceeded to sit in the living room. "Nu-uh, you must get into your sleepwear, otherwise you would be breaking the most important rule of slumber parties!"

Sora rolled her eyes and got into the bathroom, to get out wearing, not a silk set like Mimi was, but running shorts and an oversized tee. Sora had a unique kind of beauty; while Mimi had a face you could be able to catch on a runway, Sora had a face that made you look. No wonder most of the guys at school were even scared to talk to her, she was mesmerizing, even with no makeup and her short auburn hair all over her face.

"You have no idea how much I needed this evening, it's exactly what kept me going throughout the week!" Sora stole the chips from Mimi and smiled, she felt a punch in her stomach which she decided to ignore. "What are we watching?" Sora asked completely clueless of her anatomic pain.

"One of my favorites, The Notebook, the kind of love story that makes you want to die," Sora raised her eyebrows, not surprised by Mimi's exaggerations.

It was no lie The Notebook was one of Mimi's favorite movies, but she could not focus on the movie even if she were being paid to do so, and not because she had seen it at least fifteen times, but because she could not keep her eyes off Sora, and her reactions on the star-crossed lover's story. Sure, Mimi had experimented with women back in New York, but they had never been her very best friend.

"No way he fixed the house for them!" Sora was slowly cleaning up the tears that were fighting to get out of her eyes, as she caught Mimi staring at her.

Sora, on the other hand, had never experimented anything, of barely any kind. She had lived in Japan her whole life, and the most extreme adventure of her life was missing the train while she was on her way to visit her dad in Kyoto. In her very structured brain, heterosexuality was the only way of loving, the one-way couples existed. Then, why was she feeling magnetic towards Mimi's hazel eyes?

Mimi was the one to make the first move, holding her hand gently, to see what Sora's reaction on it was. She was static, but did not seem against her touch, either, so she slid closer, removing the bare centimeters that were separating them to each other. Her hand moved up Sora's arm, to her collarbone, neck and stopped right at her cheek. Sora's whole body was on fire, she had never been touched with such care, with such kindness.

Words were not necessary when the unspoken language between their gazes was so powerful. Maybe it had been a second, maybe it had been an hour, but Sora's lips were all over Mimi's, as if she had wanted to do it all her life, as if she had needed to do it all her life.

The kiss had started sweet, a peck savoring Mimi's strawberry infused lipstick, but had slowly increased in heat, Sora's body felt sweaty. Their lips had understood each other perfectly, adapting to the other's pace, and need. Sora's thoughts had been emptied for the whole time, and she wanted it to remain like that. Whenever she thought, she tended to overdo it, and she really did not want to ruin the moment.

Until their lips had to be separated, not because they wanted to, but because they needed to catch some air. Mimi's lips seemed swollen, and Sora's hair was messier than before. They were both panting, cheeks flushed.

And then it hit her, the big wave of thoughts entered Sora's brain and she got scared. What had she just done? That was Mimi sitting in front of her, that was Mimi who she had been kissing as if they were the couple in the cheesy Hollywood film they were watching. Tears filled her eyes once again, she was shaking.

"I'm sorry but… I really need to go." She grabbed her backpack and ran as fast as she could. She was not brave enough to face Mimi once again, because she was the reflection of what she had done, and she was not ready to hear it out loud.

Mimi was left alone in her parent's small apartment, because somehow it still did not feel like her's. She hugged herself and tried to force herself into finishing the movie, which was almost impossible, since her tears barely let her see anything.

What had she been thinking? Sora was all she had in Japan, her only sincere friendship, and she had to be stupid enough to let her feelings lead the way and ruin the only thing that was right with her life. Her chest was in so much pain, Sora would probably never speak to her again, and she could not blame her. Mimi was not stupid, and she knew Japan was one of the most homophobic countries in the world, even if it was the 21st century for fucks sake!

In New York things were much more different, and sure, homophobic folks existed here and there, but it was 2005 and her gay friends were allowed to hold hands in public, even show other signs of affection. Yeah, same sex marriage was not allowed just yet, but they were close to getting there! Japan was miles away from any kind of acceptation… God, what had she been thinking? Perhaps she should start looking for planes, to go back to where she belonged.

Sora ran, she ran so fast she felt her legs could detach from her body. She was not sure why she was running so fast, the one thing she wanted to get away from was on top of her shoulders. She was aware she had been the one to make the final move and kiss Mimi, the facts were there, what she wanted to know, to understand, was the reason behind her actions. She had never seen girls in a romantic or sexual way, she barely even had a close relationship with many girls.

But she had not been on drugs, or alcohol, or any other substance she could blame her actions on. She had just been drawn to Mimi's pink lips as if it were the natural thing to do, as she had kissed her ex-boyfriend so many times. She stopped running to catch a breath, she was not even close to her home, because she had been running without a destination in mind. She knew she had acted like a jerk by leaving Mimi's apartment, but she really needed to be alone, clear up her thoughts.

She grabbed her phone and texted Mimi, "can we talk about this tomorrow? I need to clear up my thoughts."

"Sure ," Mimi replied unable to write a dry message. Happy faces tended to relax situations, right?

Mimi and Sora agreed to meet in Sora's apartment to have breakfast. They could have had their conversation in a restaurant, or café, but the mere thought of being heard by anyone, drove Sora insane. No, they needed privacy.

Sora still felt guilty about leaving in such a rude way the night after, so she tried her best to cook an American breakfast, with pancakes and sunny side up eggs. She bought bacon, too! Very early in the morning, considering she had barely even slept.

Mimi knocked Sora's door, with a knot on her stomach. She could smell from the hallway the breakfast she had prepared, and she hated to admit she was hungry. Sora was a great cook, another talent to add to her never-ending list.

"Hi," Sora opened merely a second after she had knocked, making Mimi believe she had been standing behind the door for a few minutes. She seemed nervous, considering she could not stop playing with her hands. Who was she kidding, Mimi was crazy nervous, too.

"I brought flowers, which is probably stupid considering I came to the Japanese kingdom of flowers," it was a single orchid, beautifully sitting in a nice pot. Sora grabbed it and placed it in the middle of the kitchen table. It all had been arranged as a nice brunching spot Mimi would go to on a Saturday evening in the American city, her heart skipped a beat. "You didn't have to go this far with the breakfast, you know?"

"It's nothing," she shrugged her shoulders, which Mimi could see since Sora was wearing a tank top. She had never noticed the amount of freckles Sora had on them. "You know how much I enjoy cooking, please sit or it will get cold."

They ate in silence, making a mundane comment here and there, about anything but the one subject that was burning on both of their chests.

"I want to apologize for leaving like that yesterday, it was rude. No matter how confused I was feeling, that had not been your fault."

"I understand, really. You don't need to apologize, I seriously thought you would never speak to me again."

"Why would you think that?" Sora's voice sounded hurt.

"Well, considering the circumstances… it could get weird. I've been there before."

"But Mimi, before anything we are friends, best friends even. Sure, I am still very confused about my actions last night, but you did not offend me. I can not promise I could see women in a romantic way, I did not even know it was an option until last night but… I would never want to lose you."

"It must have come as a big shocker to you, right? So many of the people I had mentioned in my mails and letters were girls. To me love never had a specific sex attached to it, not even when I was a kid. I have been working with my sexuality for my whole life. I do not expect you to figure it out in a single night."

"So you…?"

"I have fallen for girls before, yes. I believe I do like girls more than I like boys. Girls tend to be more sensible and open with their feelings, you know? Of course, I do not expect my feelings to be reciprocated, there may even be a chance I am just confused because you are the only person who I feel at home with in this country. I am sorry I let myself get controlled by my feelings, I tend to do that a lot."

"Wow Mimi, I had no idea."

"I do not think I have ever said this out loud, I am not the best at speaking."

"Are we sure The United States is in the same planet as Japan?"

"Right? Japan may be advanced in technology, but you guys still live in the 15th century for so many other things."

"In my household I think we live in that century for most of the things, including beds," both Mimi and Sora laughed, cleaning up the air. "You are so brave, Mimi. For never being afraid of being yourself. You are such a blessing to anyone who ever runs into your life, I will never understand how you do it."

"I guess I have been lucky to, for the most part, run into the right people. Thank you, Sora, for not seeing me as a monster."

"Are you kidding? You are way too pretty to be a monster," they held hands, speaking once again everything they could not say out loud with their eyes.

Mimi knew she could not ask Sora to be with her, not in that moment, not the way she wanted her to be. But Sora was still for her, and she knew she would always be. She was grateful she could still be herself with the redhead, no matter the circumstances.

#digimon adventure #tachikawa mimi #takenouchi sora #sorami #mimi tachikawa #sora takenouchi #fanfic #fanfiction #mimi x sora

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heloflor · 3 years

Text

As Time Passes Prologue : My Brother, part 1

AO3 link ; Prologue 1 (The Estate)

A collection of scenes from Vinnie’s early life. From his younger years as a toddler to his last years as a teen. From a life of fear to a life of uncertainty. From an abused child relying on the only good people in his life to a young adult determined to make things right for them.

TRIGGER WARNING : child abuse, violence, depression, mentions of drug and alcohol, infidelity. Basically anything that goes with messed up abusive parents. And to that regard, this fic is NOT made to romanticize abuse or mental illness ! There’s also a moment in part 2 mentioning a dystopic future with the urbanization of the world and its consequences on every species (it’s only one part and you see it coming). This also means mentions of animal abuse and LITERAL animal genocide !!

Notes : Well, this took 8 months longer than expected…

Seriously. I started working on this chapter BEFORE “The Estate”, only deciding later to start with Cav’s backstory because it makes more sense given what I intend to write for chapters 3 and 4.

Though, that chapter is very, VERY long so that also explains the delay. And even despite the size, I feel like I tried to cram in too much elements and underdeveloped some stuff as a result. Like, that whole thing could be a fic in itself if I had enough ideas to fill the holes there and there.

On a lighter note, during that “hiatus”, I read the book “Wanderers” by Chuck Wending and one interlude gave me the idea of putting dates at the beginning of each new part of the story, which is going to come in VERY HANDY for the story (also the fact that the fic is called “As Time Passes” makes it even better).

As for the chapter itself, let’s just say that, after giving an idea of what Cavendish’s life used to be, now it’s time to show Dakota’s. Though, this chapter will be much longer and goes onto basically his entire life before B.O.T.T.. There are also a lot of dark stuff (as said in the trigger warning) because apparently my brain still hasn’t gotten past that teenager need to make anything as messed up as possible.

Regarding the sibling OCs, fun fact : the idea of Dakota having older siblings came partly from Tumblr and partly from my wish to have Dakota be an uncle due to how much the guy seems to love kids (but I don’t see him have his own, for reason that will be talked about in the main fic). Then, while listening to random songs and coming up with Dakavendish animations in my head (yeah I’m THAT kind of weirdo), I ended up listening to “A Guy Like You” from Disney Hunchback and suddenly Dakota had three siblings. Then all that needed to be done was give them a personality and choose which one would have a kid. And then make them all queer because I spend too much time on the internet.

Another thing about them, to make it easier at the beginning : there are four. And for the age-gap, as an example, the fic starts with the ages being 13 (Enzo “Enzie”), 9 (Bettina “Bettie”), 5 (Donatello “Donnie”) and 3 (Viviana “Vivie”/Vincenzo “Vinnie”).

(side-note about the writing at the beginning : using the wrong pronouns for a character is MUCH harder than I thought it would be)

Btw I don’t know how to draw so instead, if you want to see how the siblings look like, I made them in Miitopia (don’t ask). Here’s the link for it (just ignore my ramblings in this...).

Also, while the idea of him having siblings comes partly from my brain, the idea of Dakota being Italian is 100% from Tumblr and AO3 with like half the Dakavendish fandom who seems to follow this headcanon. Hell, I even have an irl friend who told me Dakota gives them a European vibe while I was telling them that one of the reasons people saw him as trans was his height.

(and I guess you could say the same thing about him having heterochromia and being colorblind ; all the credit for these two ideas goes to the fandom)

Btw, despite them being Italians, the dialogue is in english. In future chapters tho, depending on the character’s POV, some dialogue will either be in Italian or in English in italics.

And fun fact : while googling Italian names to help me name these characters, I discovered that there’s an Italian name that’s “Baldassare” and this is 100% how Dakota’s siblings and nephew/nieces would call Cavendish.

And one last “””fun””” fact : the character of Enzo is partly inspired by a guy I know who, by the age of 6, was the one to wake up, dress, feed, bring to school and overall raise his 4 younger siblings. And if you’re wondering, the guy is 23 now and is doing pretty fine (much, MUCH better than the shit I plan for my OC here). And no, the name of the OC isn’t inspired by this guy. I looked up random Italian names for each sibling + Vinnie’s dead name.

Anyways, onto the fic now. Enjoy !

January 10, 2134

The morning started with their usual routine.

Vivie was sleeping soundly, her brother Donnie by her side, until their oldest brother Enzie came to wake them up. Vivie could hear her sister Bettie grumble, not helped by Enzie urging her to get up. He would always claim that, unlike the other two, she needed to be ready early. They didn’t go to school at the same hours. First it was Bettie, then Donnie, and finally Vivie was brought to the nursery.

Enzie also went to school. Bettie once said that Enzie always turned out late because his school started before them. But Enzie always insisted to take care of them first. The older brother didn’t like letting them alone with Mamma. And, truth be told, Vivie didn’t like it either.

Once Enzie reached their bed, Donnie pretended to still be sleeping and made snoring noises. Sometimes, Vivie would do the same. Today though, she just giggled, listening to her brothers argue.

She couldn’t open her eyes. The light hurt her. So she waited for her brothers to be done, for Enzie to focus his attention to her and give her her sunglasses.

Then, the four kids sat on the beds to have their breakfast, taking out the bags hiding under their beds. Years ago, way before Vivie was born, Enzie had decided that they should all hide their fruits and snacks in the bedroom instead of in the kitchen where Mamma could take them, and the others obeyed.

Enzie was always worried about food. Even though Mamma brought enough for them to eat everyday if they shared in small portions, Enzie insisted that it was never enough, that kids like them needed more than that. He always told them that, if they found something to eat, they should eat until they were full and share if some was left. As a result, Bettie and Donnie often brought food back from their lunch at school.

As for Enzie, how he always found something for the three of them was a mystery. Vivie had heard Bettie get angry at her brother more than once, accusing him of stealing food and talking about how he was going to end up in prison. But then Enzie would show what he got her, and she would stop yelling. But Vivie could see that she was still angry, and it made her sad too. Vivie heard that prison was bad, that the people who went left for a long time.

Vivie didn’t want Enzie to go to prison.

Who would take care of her, if Enzie was not here ?

…

Despite her young age, Vivie would sometimes feel bad for Enzie. He was very nice and always helped her when she was upset. But was anybody helping him ? Enzie slept on the scratchy couch in the living-room to let Bettie have her own bed. He refused to eat until his siblings ate enough. He helped Bettie with her homework before doing his. He never slept if one of them wasn’t, willing to tell as many songs and story as needed. He always went outside with them to watch over them. If one of them needed something from Mamma, he would talk to her for them.

Vivie couldn’t talk that well yet. While she knew a few words, she was said to be behind on language. But while she couldn’t communicate, she could observe.

When she was at the nursery, Vivie would see the other children, the other families. She was told about how a family worked.

The parents took care of the children. The parents fed the children, helped them with their homework, told them bedtime stories, watched over them, cared for them, have a bed for each one of them.

Mamma didn’t do any of this. She never did.

Mamma was just there, in the house, with them. Enzie told them not to talk to her. She could be dangerous when she was bothered.

And yet, she would go to them sometimes. She would go outside with them, just walking ahead as she brought Donnie and Vivie to the closest playground. She would mention them on the phone. Vivie even saw her go to Bettie’s school play once.

But the rest of the time, she would be lying down somewhere in “her side” of the house, glaring when any of her children would come close all the while holding one of those bottles Enzie completely forbid them to touch. Or she would be out of the house, especially at night, going to what Vivie supposed was her job.

So, since she was never there, Enzie took care of them.

It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t how the other children lived. Enzie was not an adult, at least Vivie didn’t think so. Bettie said he was as much of a child as she was.

But Vivie couldn’t do anything about it. As of right now, all she could do was finish her morning snack, brush her teeth, let Enzie dress her up and follow her older siblings as they packed for school, listening to the same instructions Enzie gave them each day : “Don’t go with any strangers.”, “Listen to your teachers.”, “Don’t get in trouble.”

Maybe it wasn’t normal, but it was all that Vivie knew. And at the very least, she supposed it was better than nothing.

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

October 30, 2134

Vivie didn’t understand how she ended up here, on the examination table of the nearest doctor. She had been in the bedroom, getting yelled at by Donnie for taking his clothes. She always liked his clothes more than her own. But when Enzie arrived to investigate the noise, a confusion happened.

Donnie complained that Vivie took his yellow shirt and his red pants. And while Vivie couldn’t lie about that, she insisted that everything she was wearing was of the same color and that Donnie was using two words that meant the same thing. While Donnie and Vivie went back and forth about colors, Enzie went to pick up a few clothes. He then quickly interrupted his younger siblings, sat Vivie down and asked her to tell him the color of each outfit.

The four years-old was confused but decided to comply. Describing blue shirts, purple costumes and pink underwear. But then, there was the color of the clothes she was wearing, a color Vivie had heard being called by three different names : yellow, red and green.

Each time the clothes would have this color, she would use one of those words randomly, getting several huffs from Donnie, making her feel like she was doing something wrong.

After a few more, the thirteen years-old asked Donnie to close the blinds and turn off every light, which the six years-old quickly did. Then, Enzie requested that his sister remove her sunglasses.

They tried his game again, leading to the same results. The girl started sniffing while twirling one temple of her sunglasses. Was there something wrong with her ? Were her eyes wrong again ? Enzie was quick to hold her and calm her down, singing her her favorite lullaby.

Next thing Vivie knew, she was walked to the hospital by her brother. There, a doctor tried to look at her eyes with a light, leading to a lot of struggling from the young child. He then followed with a guessing game with numbers hidden inside colored circles. It was only then that the doctor explained what was wrong with her.

He called it “color-blindness”. It meant that she didn’t see colors the same way other people did, the same way her siblings did. In his explanation, the doctor mentioned how it was incredibly rare for a girl to be colorblind without any sibling or parent being colorblind as well. Enzie replied that he never questioned his parents about it. And while Mamma seemed able to see colors just fine, the teen had no idea if Papà was the same as her.

But, in any case, there was a way to partially fix this.

The doctor excused himself for a minute, letting the anxious teen and the fidgety child alone. Enzie went to sit next to his sister, who was quick to jump on his lap. He ran a finger through the toddler’s curly hair and she pressed her head against his chest. She smiled, feeling peaceful and safe in his arms.

When the doctor came back, he was holding a small pair of glasses with orange lens, along with two identical balls. Enzie stood back up and the doctor gave the plastic balls to the toddler, telling her to raise her head so that he could put the new glasses.

Once Vivie opened her eyes with the new glasses in place, she found herself squeal in surprise.

The balls in her hands, they weren’t the same color at all ! And those colors…had she even seen them before ?!

While the doctor was talking to her brother, Vivie kept putting the glasses on and off, noticing the immediate difference in colors. How could this even be ?!

But before she could ask any question, Enzie gave her the other pair of sunglasses, took her in his arms, thanked the doctor and left the office.

Vivie seated herself in her brother’s arms, the movement from his walking slowly rocking her to sleep.

“Vivie ?”, the teen’s voice took away the fog in her mind.

“huh ?”

“Did you like seeing those colors with the new glasses ?”

“uh-huh.”, the toddler nodded.

“Do you want to have glasses like that all the time.”

“Yes !”, she replied, her head snapping away from Enzie’s shoulder.

“Then this Saturday we’ll got get you a pair. Okay ?”

“Okay !”

“Good. Now let’s go back home before Donnie or Bettie get on mamma’s nerves.”

As the teenager walked at a fast pace, a new question arose in his sister’s mind.

“Enzie ?”

“Yes ?”

“Do you…you will fall down for my new glasses ?”, the toddler asked full of worry. Bettie had told her the story of how she got her sunglasses. Apparently, she had refused to open her eyes as a baby and, everytime Enzie asked mamma to go see a doctor, she refused. She “didn’t care enough”, Bettie said. So Enzie decided to give her a reason to go, and jumped from a window, forcing mamma to bring him to the hospital, where the then-child was able to convince the doctor to help Vivie.

“Will I…oh ! Oh no, don’t worry !”, the teenager’s laugh didn’t do anything to ease Vivie’s worry. She pouted.

“Do not get hurt !”, she insisted.

“I promise you Vivie, we’re just going to go to a store. I…”, he looked away. “I can get the money for it…I mean…I’m sure mamma wouldn’t mind losing a few euros…”

“Mamma will help ? With no you falling ?”

“She will.”, Enzie assured. “And I won’t fall. Don’t worry about it, piccolina. Everything’s going to be alright.”

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

July 4, 2136

Vivie was hiding in a closet. She had done it again. She had taken Donnie’s clothes.

It was something she did a lot, something she had done for a long time now.

It wasn’t that she found it fun to annoy Donnie ! She just didn’t like her clothes. Bettie had tried to get her “good-looking girl clothes” with the little money they had for it, but Vivie couldn’t care less. She only wore the same few outfits, the ones that Bettie never called “girly”. The only “girly” thing she continuously wore was a heart-shaped pink hairclip, but only because it made her sister very happy.

She didn’t want “pretty girl clothes”, she liked Donnie’s clothes more, even if they were too big for her. She actually liked the size of these clothes, as she could flap her hands with the too-long sleeves of his winter shirts.

Sometimes, when Vivie wore his clothes, Donnie would just let it go and they’ll keep playing together. But other times, like today, Donnie got upset by it. And now, the seven years-old had gone to fetch their older brother.

So Vivie stayed hidden, not wanting to face Enzie’s anger. Las time she saw him, the fifteen years-old had been with Bettie, busy doing homework. And Enzie didn’t like being interrupted by their “small and stupid arguments”, as he once put it. Especially for homework. For the last year, he had been complaining more and more about how he never had the time to just sit down and work with three noisy kids running around and needing him left and right.

Still, it didn’t take long for the child to hear the sound of his footsteps getting louder and louder as he approached.

“Vivie !”, the older brother called.

��I’m not here !”, the five years-old replied. She heard her brother sigh.

“Vivie, come out there. We need to have a talk.”

“I don’t want to !”, another sigh.

“Vivie, I’m not mad at you. Just come out. I’m not going to yell.”

“...Promise ?”

“Promise.”

Tentatively, Vivie opened the closet’s door and caught sign of her brother. He was sitting on her and Donnie’s bed. As she opened the door a little more, he patted the space next to him.

She left the closet and went to sit on the bed. Enzie watched as the child scooted over towards him, looked at his face, scooted a little more, looked at him again and finally moved to sit on his knees.

“You want to talk ?”, Vivie asked.

The teen nodded.

“You’re not angry ?”

He shook his head. Vivie looked in front of her as she considered it. If Enzie wasn’t angry about the clothes, then why did he want to talk to her ? But her thoughts were interrupted by the fifteen years-old putting a hand in her hair, prompting his sister to snuggle against his chest.

“Polpetta ?”

“Yeah ?”

“Why do you keep stealing Donnie’s clothes ?”

“I don’t steal them.”, Vivie protested. “I wear them.”

“And why don’t you wear your clothes ? You don’t like them ?”, Enzie’s voice was calm and soft, though Vivie could still hear the sternness and tiredness his voice often carried.

The child shook her head as a reply.

“But you like Donnie’s clothes ?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you like them more than yours ?”

Vivie had to pause to think for a moment. With her worry from earlier and the drowsiness form feeling a hand play with her hair, she found it hard to think.

“Is it because of the colors ?”, Enzie continued. “Or the size ? Or is it because you have girl clothes ?”

“Yes ! That !”, she suddenly jerked.

“You don’t like girl clothes ?”

“Nuh-uh.”, she replied.

“Why not ?”

Vivie was back to thinking. Why didn’t she like girl clothes ? She knew she didn’t like it when Bettie called them girl clothes, but why ?

“Do you want me to tell you what I think ?”, Enzie asked with a smile. Vivie looked up at his face and the teen chuckled. “I think you don’t like girl clothes because you don’t like being a girl. Do you like being a girl ?”

Yet again, Vivie looked away with a frown as she tried to concentrate. Was it true ? Did she not like being a girl ?

Vivie didn’t like her girl clothes. She didn’t like people pointing at her and saying she was a girl. And everytime Bettie wanted to play with her, Vivie would refuse. She didn’t like playing dress-up with Bettie. She preferred to play marbles or yoyo with Donnie. Even at school, she tried and liked spending time with boys more than girls, even though the largest group of boys always rejected her.

But were all these feelings because she wasn’t a girl ?

“I dunno.”, she finally replied, looking at Enzie with a pleading look, as if her brother held all the answers.

“Let me put it that way.”, the teenager continued. “If you were a boy, would you be happy about it ? Just imagine yourself as a boy. With boy clothes. A boy’s voice. A boy’s name.”

Vivie did. She could picture herself among the other boys of kindergarten. She looked like them, talked like them, belonged with them. The thought made her smile. When she opened her eyes, she bounced, looking at her brother with a smile.

“I want to be a boy !”, she exclaimed.

“Are you sure ?”

Vivie nodded excitedly.

“Alright then.”, the teen shrugged. “Polpetta-to, since you’re so eager at the thought of being a boy, how about we got get the tablet downstair to find you an actual boy’s name ? And see if you like it ?”

Vivie jumped off of Enzie’s laps and ran downstairs, leaving the room before the teenager even had the time to stand up.

Half an hour later and the two siblings were still at the coffee table, Enzie reading through a list of names starting with the letter “v”. Vivie wanted a new name that sounded like her current one.

“Vittore ?”

“ummm. No.”

“What about Vladimir ?”

“…Maybe ?”

“We could call you Vladdie. Or Vaddie.”

“no.”

“Are you even sure you want a new name ? Maybe I was wrong earlier when I said you were a boy.”

“No ! You’re not wrong ! I’m a boy ! I want a boy’s name ! Just like you and Donnie !”

“Alright then.”, the teen sighed. He mumbled something.

“huh ?”

“Nevermind. How abou-“

“What are you two doing ?”, Vivie’s head perked up at the sound of Bettie’s voice. The eleven years-old was on top of the stairs, trying to look at the tablet over Enzie’s shoulder.

“Looking for a name for our little brother over here.”, the teen replied. “Where’s Donnie ?”

“In the bedroom.”, Bettie walked down the stairs. “You know Enzie, when I complained that Vivie acts like she wants to be a boy instead of being stuck as a girl, I was joking.”

“Maybe you were but he wasn’t. At least I think.”

he…their brother… Vivie liked being called that.

“Then…it looks like I don’t have a little sister after all.”, Bettie commented with a hint of sadness in her voice. This made Vivie frown. Sh-…He didn’t want to make his sister sad.

“Maybe not,”, the oldest brother defended. “but instead, you have a great little brother.”

“I guess…”, she went to stand near Vivie, her younger brother. “So,”, she continued. “you’re looking for a boy’s name ?”

“Uh-huh !”, the child replied.

“Found anything you like yet ?”

“We’re trying.”, Enzie replied, putting his head back onto the list.

With the teen’s attention away, Bettie turned back to Vivie.

“Say, once you’re done with that, how about we go return your clothes and buy you better ones ?”

“Yes !”, Vivie jumped in his seat. That’s when he remembered the hairclip he was still wearing. He took it off and presented it to Bettie. “For you.”, he explained. “I won’t wear it now. But you like it. So you should wear it.”

Bettie smiled. “Alright. Whatever you say, patatino.”, she looked at Enzie. “Found other names ?”

“You have Vivaldo, Vidone, Vezio, Vincenzo or Vincent in English,-”

“Vincenzo ?”, for some reason, the name stuck with him. Vincenzo…

“Do you like it ?”, Bettie asked. Vivie nodded. “You want to be called Vincenzo ?”

“I think so…yeah…yes ! I want to be Vincenzo !”

“Finally !”, Enzie sighed, dropping the tablet on the table. The two younger siblings just stared at him, until he glanced back and smirked. Bettie laughed.

“Let’s go return your old clothes, Vincenzo.”, the sister said, already on the move.

“Coming !”, the youngest sibling jumped to follow but was interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Enzie ruffled his hair with a smile.

“Hope you’re going to enjoy being a boy, Vinnie.”

When the evening came, there was one last thing to do.

Vincenzo…Vinnie was standing in the doorway, his fingers tapping the wall as he anxiously watched Enzie walking towards Mamma. The woman was in the kitchen, making herself one of those drink Enzie prevented them to touch.

“…Claudia ?”, the teen asked.

“You know better than to bother me, Enzo.”, Mamma replied in a sharp tone without looking up from her bottle. She took a sip while Enzie seemed to gather his courage.

“It’s about-“

“Enzo.”, Mamma warned. Vinnie didn’t miss how her hand moved to the top of the bottle and he shivered, grabbing the wall. He knew exactly what mamma could do when she was angry.

“Vinnie is a boy, not a girl !”, the fifteen years-old blurted out before taking a few steps back.

Mamma turned around and glared at her son, but she didn’t make a move to hit him. Still, this didn’t make Vinnie feel any less tense.

“Vivie…Viviana. His name is Vincenzo now. He’s a boy.”, Enzie continued with a firmer voice.

Mamma’s gaze seemed to lose some of its anger, though she still gave the teen a dirty look. After a few seconds, she glanced at the child at the door and Vinnie froze. She started to make her way towards him, almost instantly followed by Enzie who ran to his little brother, holding him protectively against his chest.

Mamma ignored him, her gaze on her youngest child. Vinnie looked down, gripping Enzie’s shirt in fear.

“Very well, Vincenzo. And please make your brother understand not to bother me when I’m busy or he’ll deeply regret this.”, and with that, she went to her bedroom, bottle in hand.

Once she was out of view, Enzie let out a deep sigh of relief and let go of his brother. Vinnie continued to cling on his shirt for a moment. He started crying and buried his head in Enzie’s chest, trying to cover his sobs. The older brother ran his fingers in Vinnie’s hair in a soothing motion.

“Shhh, let it all out. It’s okay to cry.”, Vinnie kept his head where it was, though his sobs became louder. “There you go. It’s alright. Everything’s alright.”, Enzie was right, and Vinnie knew it.

Vinnie had a new name. He had new clothes.

His siblings supported him.

Enzie told him that, if he did continue to feel like a boy, there could be a few changes for him to do once he’s older, at least if he wished to. Enzie promised he would do anything to make sure these changes happen.

But for now, they did everything that could be done.

They talked to mamma.

Mamma had accepted him.

…

He was going to be alright.

As long as he stayed away from mamma, as long as he kept listening to Enzie, everything was going to be fine.

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

March 22, 2137

Vinnie didn’t know what to make of Papà.

As far as the six years-old could remember, which wasn’t a lot, papà would show up from time to time starting in January. He would spend the afternoon talking to mamma, or going to her bedroom, and then he would leave.

Papà never stayed the entire night. He never showed up two days in a row.

And once spring was coming to an end, during the first days of July, he would leave and not come back for the rest of the year.

Vinnie was curious about the man. He was his papà after all ! But he never got to interact with him, never got to sit down and talk to him. He wanted to learn who he was, what he liked, why he was only here from time to time and why it was only during winter and spring…

Vinnie had tried asking his siblings about papà, but none of them gave him a satisfying answer.

Donnie was as lost as he was. He never had an opportunity to talk to papà, always afraid to run into mamma or to have Enzie yell at him for it.

Bettie looked at Vinnie with sad eyes, told him not to go see papà, that he was dangerous. When the brother asked why, the twelve years-old refused to answer.

As for Enzie…

Enzie didn’t like papà. He said papà was very dangerous, that he didn’t care about them, that the four kids shouldn’t waste their time with him.

Everytime the kids would stumble across him while walking through the house, papà would stop in his tracks to gaze at them with an indecipherable expression. Enzie would immediately shush his younger siblings away, all while glaring at the man. Sometimes, Vinnie would look at his papà and see him glare back at the teen.

While Vinnie didn’t know much about his papà, since he never got to interact with him, there was at least one thing he was sure of.

Enzie hated papà.

Papà hated Enzie.

And because of that, Enzie would never let his siblings approach him.

But one day, Vinnie got an occasion to talk to him.

Enzie was doing homework upstairs with Bettie. Now that the teenager was in high-school, and with the other siblings old enough to be unsupervised for a while, Enzie decided to spend more time working on his future. In the meantime, Bettie has chosen to step up and help him, looking after her younger siblings if needed.

But right now, neither of them was downstairs. Same thing for Donnie.

That was how Vinnie found himself peeking inside the living-room where his parents were. His papà was sitting on the couch with his arms and legs stretched out, while mamma seemed to be “making herself a drink” as Bettie called it. The child crouched down at the entrance and listened as his papà talked.

“-shouldn’t be there anyways.”

“You say the same thing every single year, Pietro. And yet, you always come crawling back to me. It’s been more than ten years. Just admit you can’t help it.”

“Just like you can’t help having your load of kids ? Do you have any idea how much they cost me ?!”

“You can stop sending me money any time you want.”, Vinnie could almost hear the laugh in her voice. “But I don’t think your little family will take it very well once I go to ask them for my money.”

Papà grumbled and looked away from her. “You’re the shittiest human being I ever met, Claudia. I hope you know that.”

“You’re no better yourself. Lying and cheating at any given chance. Honestly it’s a miracle she still doesn’t suspect a thing. You two really found each other. So naïve and in denial of the truth about the world. ~ ”

As mamma kept smirking and teasing papà, the man was getting more and more angry. Vinnie could see his hands gripping on the sofa, as if trying to rip it off. This made the child tense up at the prospect of his parents fighting.

“What now ?”, mamma suddenly spat in annoyance. The two adults glanced at Vinnie, and that’s when he realized that he had been anxiously tapping on the doorway’s wall, giving himself away with his noise.

“Umm…hi…”, Vinnie said in a quiet voice, waving awkwardly. Now that he had been caught spying, he might as well show himself more. Who knew, maybe this would be his only occasion ever to talk to papà !

Mamma just huffed and went back to pour her glass, while papà kept his eyes on the child.

“This is the youngest one, right ?”, papà asked. “Viviana ?”

“Vincenzo.”, mamma corrected before Vinnie could. “Turns out your daughter was a son this whole time.”

“And you changed her-his name, without my permission ?!”

“If you have a problem with that, you can talk to Enzo about it.”

Papà looked down, teeth gritted. “This child should learn a little respect.”, he spat.

“Have fun telling him that.”, mamma replied, completely impassive.

“Why don’t you at least try to teach that boy anything ?!”

“I don’t know. Why do you suddenly care about these children ?”, she shrugged. “Besides, Enzo’s almost an adult. He’s not my problem anymore.”

“You’re going to throw him out ?”

“He intends to throw himself out.”, mamma explained. “But maybe if you give us more financial support, he would have half a mind to stay.”, she joked. Papà was not amused at all.

The man punched the couch and fell silent, looking away from the mother and son. For a few moments, Vinnie just stood there, observing the man with hesitation. He knew he should be leaving, now. If Enzie saw him there, his older brother would kill him. But right now, as he felt so close to having a moment with the older man, his curiosity to meet his father was stronger than his fear of consequences.

Eventually, Vinnie saw papà’s fists unclench. This prompted the child to try and make a move. With hope to finally have a conversation with the man, Vinnie tentatively walked to the couch. When the man didn’t move, Vinnie put a hand on his knee.

Still no reaction.

Getting more and more hopeful, the six years-old hopped on his knees. Papà still didn’t move.

Well, it seemed like Vinnie had to start the conversation.

“I…um…”, Vinnie had his hands on his own knees, opening and closing his legs awkwardly as he thought of what to say. “I’m…I’m not Vivie anymore. I’m Vinnie now.”

No response.

After a few seconds, Vinnie started wondering if maybe his siblings were right. If maybe it would be better to just let it go and leave, especially seeing the dirty look mamma was giving him. But before the child could move, something he didn’t expect happened.

Papà put a hand on his back.

Vinnie froze and looked up. The man still wasn’t looking at him.

Without much thinking, Vinnie pressed his face against papà’s chest. Suddenly, the hand on his back start moving, reaching his shoulder and slowly rubbing it.

Vinnie looked up as papà looked down at his face. The child smiled but his gesture wasn’t reciprocated. The older man just seemed to study his face, keeping the same neutral expression.

Vinnie had no idea how much time wet by before papà decided to open his mouth.

“Why are you wearing those ?”, he asked, tapping the corner of Vinnie’s sunglasses.

Vinnie felt himself ready to jump in happiness. Papà was talking to him ! They were having an actual conversation ! He could learn more about him !

But instead, Vinnie did his best to stay calm, letting his only sign of excitement be the rapid movement of his legs. He really didn’t want to ruin the moment.

Besides, thinking of how papà had acted earlier made the child feel intimidated by the man.

“It’s..for my eyes.”, he explained. “The light is bad for my eyes. So I need to wear those. I also can’t see every color without them.”

“How did you get the money for that ?”, the man asked, glancing at mamma. “Why wasn’t I told about this ?”

“You would have known already if you spent more time here taking care of your children, since you suddenly seem to love them so much.”, she replied in a sharp tone. “Or would it be too suspicious for your dearest missus ? ~ ”

Papà didn’t replied, instead looking back at the child still in his lap. Vinnie didn’t really know what the adults were talking about, and he had a feeling it wasn’t something he was supposed to understand. If anybody were to take care of it, it would be Enzie.

Vinnie was still in his thoughts when papà lifted his head with a finger, taking a better look at his eyes. Remembering his experience at school, Vinnie instinctively grabbed the sides of his glasses in case papà tried to remove them.

“Your eyes…”, the man commented. “They’re different colors ?”

“Uh ? Oh ! Oh yes they are !”, Vinnie was quick to reply. He smiled again, seriously wondering why Enzie was so against them talking to papà. Sure, the man was a bit scary when talking with mamma, but at least he seemed to care about his son. More than mamma at least…Or, well, when he was around at least…

“Vincenzo ?”, papà was moving a hand in front of Vinnie’s face.

“Uh ? Oh ! right ! My eyes !”, Vinnie quickly pointed to his left eye, tapping the glass. “This one is blue. And this one-“, he pointed to his right eye. “is brown. Just like yours !”, he commented with a smile.

“…Sure.”

The man fell silent again and Vinnie looked down, trying to find another thing to say.

“…Sa-“

“VINNIE !”

Vinnie froze at the familiar and booming sound of his oldest brother’s voice.

Uh oh…

“Enz-“, papà tried.

“YOU GET AWAY FROM HIM !”

Enzie ran into the room, snatched the six years-old away and walked out, all while looking at the older man with a murderous stare. Vinnie was able to give one last glance at his parents before the door closed, seeing papà stare in confusion and anger at Enzie while mamma walked towards the man with the same impassive expression, as if she had expected something like that to happen.

With the door now closed, Enzie put his attention onto the scared child.

“WHAT WHERE YOU THINKING BEING WITH THEM ?!”

“I…I just wanted to talk to papà…”, Vinnie sheepishly replied, his head down.

“THAT MAN IS DANGEROUS, VINNIE !”

“But we were just talkin-“

“VINNIE !”

Vinnie fell quiet, finding himself unable to meet his brother’s gaze. He instead focused on the underside of the shirt he was gripping on.

After a few moments, Enzie managed to regain his composure. He sighed.

“Listen, Vinnie. I know you just want to talk to papà, but that man is a bad person. I’ve seen him hurt mamma before, he’s as dangerous as she is, if not more.”, Enzie lifted Vinnie’s head. “I just want you to be safe, polpetto, alright ?”, Vinnie nodded, still avoiding Enzie’s eyes. “Good.”, Enzie kissed his forehead. “Now let’s get back upstairs, alright ? I think I can already hear Donnie calling for you. ~ ”, the teen said in a way that Vinnie knew was an attempt to light up the mood.

“…Alright.”

Enzie held Vinnie’s hand as he led him to his bedroom. Vinnie just followed in silence, stuck into his own mind.

Enzie was a good person. He took care of Bettie, Donnie and him.

Enzie hated papà, and papà hated Enzie.

But did that really mean that papà was a bad person ?

Was there really no way he could prove that papà was better than Enzie thought ?

…

…Will Vinnie ever get the occasion to talk to him again ?

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

April 10, 2137

Enzie and Bettie talked a lot when they were doing homework. Sometimes, Vinnie would hide behind the office’s door to listen to them.

They talked about all kinds of topics. From school to the girls Bettie liked to even Donnie and Vinnie and how annoying the brothers could be at times, making the older duo feel exhausted.

But other times, they would talk about their parents, about how they felt about them.

It was obvious that Enzie hated those kinds of talks. But at the same time, he always seemed to use Bettie’s curiosity as an occasion to tell her to avoid being around them.

Bettie mostly asked questions about the relationship between her parents and why they acted the way they did. Enzie answered as best as he could, but even he barely knew about them.

However, among the flow of questions Vinnie heard Bettie ask, one in particular stood out to him.

Does mamma have other men in her life ? Does the four of us come from the same papà ?

When she asked this, Bettie was mostly talking about Donnie and how different the eight years-old looked compared to his siblings.

Curious, Vinnie started to pay attention to the facial features of his family and, soon enough, the six years-old understood what his sister meant :

Out of all of them, Donnie was the only one who didn’t look like papà at all.

Enzie was almost a perfect replica of papà. He had the man’s square chin and nose, his thick eyebrows that were more than often furrowed, along with papà’s curly hair that, in Enzie’s case, was slowly growing past his shoulders. Vinnie wondered how much the sixteen years-old hated looking so much like the man he despised more than anyone else. The only real difference between the men was color, with Enzie having mamma’s black hair and blue eyes where papà had brown eyes and light brown hair.

Vinnie was the second closest to papà. Just like Enzie, he had his old man’s chin, nose and curly hair, though his chin wasn’t as pronounced as his oldest brother. Vinnie even had a brown eye and brown hair, even if his hair was darker than papà’s. Aside from that, the child had one blue eye, like mamma’s, and his eyebrows were not as thick as papà’s or Enzie’s.

Bettie, on the other hand, was more of a mix of her parents. While she had a square chin, it was less pronounced, like for Vinnie. She also had mamma’s smaller nose and eyebrows. For the rest, it was all papà’s. She had his brown eyes and curly hair, which she almost always tied into a bun.

Finally, there was Donnie, who couldn’t be more alike to mamma. He had her rounder head, smaller nose, thin eyebrows and her long straight raven hair that he kept in a ponytail. The only thing that made him different from her, aside from height, voice and personality, was his brown eyes that deferred from her ocean blue ones. Though, as Bettie had pointed it out, a lot of people had brown eyes. From her point of view, any man with brown eyes could be Donnie’s father.

Vinnie never talked about it to Donnie. He didn’t feel the need to.

Even if he did wonder sometimes if they had the same father, it didn’t change the fact that Donnie was his big brother. That Donnie was his best friend and favorite playmate.

Papà or not, Vinnie loved Donnie as much as he loved Bettie and Enzie. If not more.

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

November 15, 2138

Today was the day.

It was Enzie’s 18th birthday. The day everything was going to get better. The day they were finally getting away from mamma and papà !

The oldest brother had been talking about it to his siblings for months. Now that he was an adult, he could “have custody of you three instead of losing you to the system”, as he said. Vinnie wasn’t sure if he fully understood what Enzie meant. At least there was one thing he was sure of.

Enzie was trying to protect them no matter the cost. He was willing to do anything for them.

That’s what led the four of them into a lawyer’s office.

Mamma was there with them. As far as Vinnie knew, she hadn’t shown any objections to her son’s decision and even wanted to help his case, claiming that the fastest the trial would go, the less money she would have to waste.

Mamma was sitting in one of the two chairs of the small office. Vinnie and Donnie were sharing the second one, the two oldest siblings standing between them and their mother. Vinnie was bouncing his legs, squirming a bit in his chair. Several times, Bettie gently nudged him, telling him to stand still, but he simply couldn’t do it.

He was bored.

Enzie and the lawyer were talking things Vinnie didn’t understand. And when he understood, his mind would quickly end up zoning out. He mostly thought about how papà was supposed to be here, wondering what was taking the man so long.

He wished he had his toys with him right now. Or anything else that could distract him.

It was during a short moment of focus that Vinnie heard the footsteps coming from the hall, getting louder and louder.

The door busted open, revealing a woman the eight years-old had never met before. She had long frizzy brown hair that was slowly falling back on her shoulders after her running. As she entered the room, she pushed her glasses back onto her nose and looked around until her emerald eyes landed on mamma. She glared at the black-haired lady.

“I had to see it with my own eyes to believe it !”, the new woman said.

“Missus Dakota, I presume ?”, mamma replied. She was sitting cross-legged, her arms folded and her eyes closed, seemingly completely unfazed by what was happening. This confused Vinnie. How could she be so calm when some stranger was yelling at her ?

The child, on the other hand, was glancing in fear at the new lady. When the door had opened, he instinctively took hold of Donnie’s shirt. The ten years-old had been quick to return the gesture. Meanwhile, Bettie had gotten closer to the chair while Enzie stood between the three of them and the door, arms stretched protectively.

“To think this all went under my nose for EIGHTEEN YEARS !”, the lady continued. Vinnie’s grip on his brother’s shirt tightened. The lady was taller than mamma, somehow making her even more intimidating in the moment.

Before mamma could reply, new footsteps could be heard outside. Despite the commotion in the room, all eyes turned towards the door. Two children peeked inside the room. They looked around the same ages as Donnie and Vinnie. But more importantly, their features looked awfully familiar to Vinnie.

Enzie was the first to react.

“Who the hell are you ?!”, he yelled, pointing at the two children. “Who are all of you and what are you doing here ?!”

Before the lady could answer, papà finally arrived, looking at her with an uncertain gaze.

“Serena, you shouldn-“, he tried gently.

“DON’T YOU TRY FINDING EXCUSES !”, the lady replied, her anger now directed towards papà. “HOW DARE YOU HIDE ME ALL THIS ?!”, she continued to yell, cutting papà everytime he was opening his mouth.

Vinnie started feeling tears form at the corner of his eyes. He was scared. Overwhelmed. He had no idea what was happening aside from “the adults are all fighting”. So naturally, the eight years-old turned his attention towards the one new adult that was always there when he was feeling upset. He moved to sit with his chest against the chair’s back, gripping it tightly. From here, he had a good view of his eldest brother.

Surely Enzie had the solution to all this. Surely he could make it all better.

At least, that was what Vinnie hoped.

The oldest brother was looking between the different adults in disbelief. Suddenly, he froze with a look of horror, as if he had just understood something really, really bad.

“YOU HAD A WIFE THIS WHOLE TIME ?!”

Somehow, Enzie’s booming voice managed to quiet the fighting. The lady -Serena- looked at him in confusion for a second, until her face bared the same shocked expression as the oldest brother.

“You didn’t know…?”, her whisper was barely audible. She glanced at the rest of the siblings. “None of you did…?”, while Vinnie believed she was still angry and could blow at any instant, he felt like there was a hint of sadness in her voice. Was she feeling pity for them ? Why for ? What did Enzie meant ? With everything happening, Vinnie found himself unable to follow.

“Bettina.”, mamma suddenly interrupted. Serena’s expression immediately darkened, as if she had just remembered the other woman was in the room. “Why don’t you take your younger siblings outside ? The adults are talking, and there’s already enough shouting as it stands.”

“I…um”, Bettie glanced at Enzie. The older brother put a hand on her shoulder and Vinnie could hear him whisper “go”. “Alright. Yeah.”, she turned to the boys still on the chair. “Come on, ometti. Let’s go to that playground we saw on the way in.”

Donnie and Vinnie shared a confused look before getting down the chair. The room was deadly silent as Bettie took their hands and led them out, under the adults’ gazes.

Right before the door closed behind them, Vinnie turned around one last time, seeing the adults ready to go at it again under the confused and concerned look of the lawyer.

He hoped Enzie would be alright…

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

December 3, 2138

The case had been taken into court. There had been a trial already, during which each sibling had been asked to testify about their living conditions. The younger trio spent their entire time talking about how their oldest brother had been taking care of them for as long as they could remember.

Vinnie didn’t know how to feel about all this. He had a hard time understanding everything. But most importantly, he was getting impatient.

It was obvious that mamma was bad at taking care of them. Why couldn’t the judge see it already ? They should already be on the road by now ! The eight years-old and his brother Donnie had already started to pack. Somehow, they hoped it could make things go faster.

The whole situation had also taken a toll on Vinnie’s grades. He already had trouble at school, between barely finding the motivation to do any homework unless someone was helping him and being seen by his teachers as agitated, more so than the other kids. And now that he had to worry about where he will end up soon, Vinnie simply couldn’t help zoning out in class to think about it.

And after the first trial, it only grew worse.

His teachers had gotten angry and started punishing him for it.

Vinnie couldn’t wait for Enzie to take them away.

…

…Enzie…

These last weeks, the older brother had been…distant. He spent all of his free-time in the office, working on his case. He only helped his siblings with basic things. Mostly food.

But more than that, the eighteen years-old had gotten more aggressive towards his parents since that day in the lawyer’s office. He couldn’t stand being downstairs if mamma was around. He was insulting them at any given chance, including during the trial they had had.

Enzie was also trying to get things to go as fast as possible. He absolutely wanted to leave before spring, before papà was around again.

Or so Vinnie thought he did.

According to Bettie, papà wasn’t going to ever come back home. At first, when the youngest brothers asked why, she refused to answer.

It had been like this ever since the day they met the lawyer. When they came back home that day, Enzie locked himself in a room, eventually letting Bettie in to tell her everything. The two then refused to explain the situation to their brothers.

That was, until one day.

Enzie had come back home, looking more stressed than usual. When Bettie went to ask if everything was alright, he snapped at her -something about their parents being the absolute worst-, and went to lock himself in the office. After that, Bettie had gone back to the bedroom, clearly upset by it all. And when Donnie and Vinnie asked her what Enzie meant, she told them the truth that forever changed Vinnie’s perception of his father :

Their parents never loved them. They never wanted them. At least, not the way they were meant to be wanted.

Their mother was a drug dealer, a criminal. There wasn’t a single penny she earned honestly. Her whole life revolved around getting money through schemes.

As it turned out, having children had been one of those schemes.

Mamma and papà met in an alley, in the middle of the night. Mamma had been out to sell illegal substances. Papà had gotten bored being home alone. His wife, Serena Dakota, had a job that led her to leave the country between January and July. They hadn’t been married for long when mamma and papà met. Bettie said it might have been a reason for his actions.

Papà “wanted a good time”, as Bettie said. He was out to meet a few women, doing things the older sister refused to explain to her brothers.

It was while looking for those women that papà ran into mamma. And when she heard what he wanted, she decided to use the situation to her advantage.

“She held him at gunpoint.”, Bettie explained to them. “The first night, Mamma had looked to steal his phone while he was sleeping and found the wedding ring he had been hiding in his jacket. She used that to blackmail him once Enzie was on the way.”

At first, papà had been happy to spend time with mamma. But then, his wife came home and they had to stop seeing each other. A month later, mamma called him out of nowhere.

She was pregnant.

According to Bettie, this had never been papà’s plan. Mamma had promised him that she was being careful. But, as per usual, mamma lied.

Knowing the child was his, she had been able to get money from him, threatening to reveal his secret to his wife. In exchange, papà only asked for two things : being the one to name them, and being able to visit them whenever.

The money had been the reason why mamma would sometimes go out with them or make sure they had good enough clothes or even prevent any of them from dying. She had to pretend like she liked her children. She needed people to believe they were one happy family, or else someone could call child services and “take away her safest source of income”. And while papà visiting them wasn’t part of her plan, it still at least helped her hiding the reality of her parenting.

Bettie believed that papà felt bad for them. The reason why he visited wasn’t because mamma forced him to be there. Sometimes, he just wanted to see his children, make sure they were still alive and well.

This was no excuse.

Even with Enzie’s warryness, he had had dozens of chances to talk to them, to be there for them.

At any moment, he could have said the truth to his wife. Instead, he lied to her. He kept her in the dark and made sure she still loved him. He had children with her, children he took care of. Children he loved.

Children he had chosen the name of years before they were born. Names he made sure none of his “other kids” had.

As he was hearing the truth, Vinnie felt like his parents had just thrown one of their bottles on his body, the glass piercing through his chest. For the following hour after Bettie finished explaining, Vinnie had felt empty. He ended up lying in Bettie’s arms, completely frozen, completely unfazed by the world around him.

Enzie was right.

Enzie had always been right.

Their parents were dangerous. Their parents never loved them. Their parents couldn’t care any less about them.

There was no point trying to get their attention, trying to get their affection. They were heartless. They never had the space in their hearts for him.

Vinnie was an unwanted child. They all were.

They were children born from an affair. Used by their monstrous mother to get money from their unconcerned father.

Enzie had been right all along.

…

From now on, Vinnie would listen to Enzie. He would listen to everything his older brother says.

Unlike his parents, Enzie loved him. Enzie wanted what was best for him.

Enzie was the only parent he needed.

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

March 22, 2139

“It had been clear for a long time now that Ms. Claudia Drowssap and Mr. Pietro Dakota are not fit to take care of their biological children. However, the question of whether or not Mr. Enzo Dakota could take care of said children had yet to be answered. Today, we have chosen an answer to this question.

While we still remain uncertain of his abilities to provide for them, this court had been told that Mr. Dakota found job opportunities along with possible apartments in Napoli. Furthermore, it is painfully obvious that Mr. Dakota is incredibly attached to his siblings and had been their only anchor for most of their life. For their own well-being as well as his, we believe that separating the four of them is out of the question.

Thus, this court is ready to give its judgment. The custody of the present Bettina, Donatello and Vincenzo Dakota will be granted to their brother Mr. Enzo Dakota. Their parents, Ms. Claudia Drowssap and Mr. Pietro Dakota, will have to repair their inaptitude by paying child support for the next five years. Furthermore, Ms. Drowssap and Mr. Dakota Sr are not to be allowed to visit their children. Finally, they will not be able to keep any other child they may have in the future.

If Mr. Dakota Jr decides to file a claim for child abuse, more consequences might come their way.

This court is adjourned.”

Vinnie couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

They did it.

They really did it !

The banging of the gavel resonated across the room, announcing the end of this session. The end of their last session. Vinnie jumped out of his seat, seeing from the corner of his eyes that he wasn’t the only one. As soon as the way was cleared enough, Bettie and Donnie ran towards Enzie. The youngest sibling immediately followed suit.

They jumped into his arms, all smiles and laughs. Even after they pulled away, the happy chatter remained. Bettie congratulated Enzie excitedly while Donnie was holding onto her, pushing her back and forth. Vinnie himself was jumping in place, his fists shaking left and right in excitement.

They were finally free ! They could finally get away from mamma and papà !

After a few more moments of celebration, Enzie led the group outside. They had to go home and pack up. The oldest brother told them they would leave as soon as possible.

“ENZO !”

The siblings had barely finished walking down the stairs when they saw papà walking towards them. The man was walking fast, teeth gritted and fists clenched, looking at his oldest son with a murderous glare.

Enzie stood in front of his younger siblings, shielding them with his arms. Afraid, Vinnie went to hug Donnie. When papà was only a few steps away, the eight years-old closed his eyes. He heard the footsteps stop, followed by ruffling and a short grunt. Vinnie felt Donnie tense.

“Are you happy with yourself ?! Are you proud of what you did ?!”

Vinnie dared opening his eyes and almost gasped. Papà had grabbed Enzie by the collar.

“Because of you, I lost my wife ! I lost my home ! I might even lose my job ! All because YOU decided to get involved in MY business !”

“All I did was trying to survive !”, Enzie replied, returning papà’s glare. “I’ll never apologize for that.”

“YOU RUINED MY LIFE !”

“YOU RUINED YOUR OWN LIFE !”, Enzie pushed papà away from him. The older man raised a fist but didn’t hit his son. Instead, he looked as the younger trio protectively put their hands on Enzie.

“Go.”, Bettie spoke up with a shaking voice. “Leave us alone.”

“…”, papà’s glare was now directed at the four of them. “You are all nothing but a bunch of ungrateful bastards.”, he growled.

“What should we be grateful for ?”, Vinnie surprised himself by deciding to speak. He knew he shouldn’t. Papà was dangerous, he could clearly see it right now. Enzie had been right about that, just like for anything else. And Enzie had told him never to talk to papà again.

And yet, the child couldn’t stop the words from flowing out of his mouth.

“Have you ever done anything to us ?! Have you ever cared for us ?! DO YOU EVEN LOVE US ?!”

Vinnie felt tears stream down his cheeks. He started sobbing.

“Vinnie…”, Donnie murmured. The ten years-old held his younger sibling. “shhh. It’s okay.”, he soothed. “It’s okay to cry.”, Donnie let a hand gently run into Vinnie’s hair, copying the way their oldest brother comforted them. The youngest sibling leaned into the embrace, crying into Donnie’s shirt. When he tried opening his eyes, he noticed that papà was looking away, seemingly more upset than angry after what his son said.

Enzie was the one to break the silence.

“You’re dead to us.”, he spat. “Don’t ever try to see us again, or they’ll be consequences. And if you don’t keep paying for support, I’ll sue for the child neglect.”, he threatened. “If you think your life is already ruined, you’re not ready for the hell I’m ready to put you through if you ever DARE try anything against us.”

The two men glared at each other for what felt like forever. Enzie’s last words kept replaying in Vinnie’s head. He wondered with dread how serious his older brother was, how far he was willing to go for them.

Finally, after a painfully long silence, papà started to back away. He walked a certain distance, glared at his chil- at them one last time, and turned away.

Enzie snorted. “Come on.”, he told his siblings. “Let’s go home. We have a lot to do if we want to leave.”

The oldest brother started to walk away, soon followed by his sister. Donnie and Vinnie looked at each other as they pulled away from their hug, before finally following the older duo.

As he followed the group, Vinnie couldn’t help but look around him, look back at the older man.

From afar, the eight years-old noticed mamma. She was looking at the man as well.

Despite everything that had happened, she was smiling.

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

Note : Regarding Vinnie being trans, I’m well-aware that someone doesn’t “become” a boy, they’ve always been one. But since Vinnie is 5 when he realizes that he’s a man, the characters simplify it to “becoming a boy” so that Vinnie can understand easily.

Italian translations :

Mamma : mom

Papà : dad

Piccolina : little one (female)

Polpetto : meatball (apparently it’s a nickname for young kids/siblings)

Patatino : little potato (for some reason I love this nickname)

Ometto : little man (ometti is plural)

Piccino : tiny one

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simply-not-an-egg · 3 years

Text

The Next Karate Kid - A Probably Very Opinionated Commentary by Yours Truly

I really am trying to go into this with an open mind; let’s see how this goes.

Starting off with a military band? K sure, you do you sweetie, and I don’t hate it yet so that’s a positive

Aha, a military REUNION, I see. And look at Miyagi with his medal!! Sweet!

So I think if I remember from reading the plot on wikipedia that Miyagi new this guy who was married to the woman he just said hello to

Y’all they got Miyagi’s name wrong. His first name is Nariyoshi not Kesuke. That is his middle name. Although in saying that, I feel like that was more or less revealed in Cobra Kai so idk, anyway, for future reference, Miyagi’s first name is Nariyoshi

Also Louisa Pierce? I assume grandmother of Julie? That would make sense

Ooh we’re in Boston for this, and look at that big white house

Yes, Louisa is grandmother, oh and hello Julie!

Julie is unhappy, a little moody, sweetie are you okay?

Alright so Julie’s an orphan! Why does Miyagi keep picking up either somewhat or completely orphaned children?? I mean, I guess that’s good but also, why?

Ooh yay Miyagi advice about losing parents and grief!

Alright so now Louisa’s gonna fuck off to California while Miyagi takes care of the child

Said child who has now snuck into some place - OH THAT”S RIGHT THE SCHOOL AND THE BIRD

Yes I remember this from wikipedia plot

I like birdy, birdy is nice, and yes Julie talk to birdy, birdy is unjudgemental friend

Now time for the Animal Studies me to take over, that wing is NOT bandaged securly at all. Wing bandages should be wrapped around the wing and on the body, to keep the damaged wing still, thank you very much

Police have come! Julie gonna get arrested, maybe? Unless girl escapes, although that’s evading police then, and now she threw a torch, that’s attempted assault. Idk what it’s like in the USA, but in my state (Queensland, AUS) that’s a $5,500 fine and 50 days in jail (evasion), and a $5,338 - $8,007 fine and 6 - 12 months in jail (police assault, depends on severity)

Have fun in prison, Julie! Oop, nevermind she’s home again

Anyway, I wonder what Daniel’s doing at this time. Wiki says Julie was born in 1977, which is a whole ten years after Daniel, and considering she’s in high school I’d say she’s about 16/17 in this movie, which brings us to like 1993/1994. Perhaps this was around the time he met Amanda, maybe even started dating her? They got married in 1998 (I believe), so it would make sense for that to happen

Bonding moment for Louisa and Julie? No, nevermind

Miyagi’s happy! Love that! He’s going to make special birthday dinner!

Straight of the bat though like the dynamics are so different. Like the moment Daniel ever so much as raises his voice at Miyagi, the dude’s a little disheartened whereas Julie talks shit here and Miyagi’s like “haha, you’re funny, anyway, let’s talk about Japanese cuisine, yes?”

Okay but I LOVE the fucking ‘sayonara’ and dissapointed headshake like, man, Miyagi, legend

This school’s nothing compared to West Valley imo

Alos that little gang? Those coordinated outfits? Do y’all not have a personality? Feel like the Cobras get a win on being comfortable with their own skin whilst also maintaining such a well-formed group

You can see I’m biased, and I’ll probably remain biased, because, two seconds into seeing this Boston group and I’m already dissappointed by the lack of personality. Again, two seconds of Cobras and y’all know you’re in for a ride, and a good one at that

I like the little garden corner that Julie’s at it’s very nice and peaceful

Back to the group, they look like real dickheads. Also, Ned? Shit name for a ‘bad boy’. Also, please stop trying to coerce Julie

I’ve seen this fucker for, what, a minute, if that? And I absolutely hate everything about him. I also don’t like how he sorta just, enters?? Like, at least with the Cobras we knew what their intentions were right off the bat. Here, well, what does Ned want Julie for? Why does he want her with him and his friends? Like, please establish that before anything else

Also why he standing like a Roblox character

The Alpha League? Really? Y’all really tryna be cool with that aren’t ya? Do I smell some toxic masculinity? I think I do?

WHY DOES THAT HIGH SCHOOL DUDE LOOK LIKE HE’S 30 DUDE

Ew I hate that school bell

Please get out of the girl’s bathroom sir

Not the fucking wing bandage again, jesus christ. And shot in the wing?? Y’all really gotta have that shit strapped then, STOP LETTING THE BIRD MOVE HER WING THAT IS GOING TO DAMAGE IT MORE

“I’ll call Dominos Pizza and have them deliver 48 pizzas to your house in the middle of the night” ma’am that is a dream come true, first of all, and second of all, please work on your threats, thank you

Okay but is this military training or phys ed??

Miyagi looks so nice in his checkered shirt! Anyway, I swear that’s like the only thing I love about this movie, Mr Miyagi that is

Teacher just slapped a kid and choked him, alrighty then

Oop and here comes Miyagi, defending kids since 1984!!

Love that. “Boy, you okay?” like just the delivery of this line it’s so neutral I love it

Ah yes, threatening a bastard with a story about a bull, the best

Honestly stan how passive-aggressive Miyagi is at any given time

Yeah okay but honestly it would be better for that bird to be taken away considering that god awful bandaging job

“It’s just a car” EXCUSE YOU JULIE, as a car person myself I take PERSONAL offence to that. That’s not just a car, that’s his child, his other half, his soulmate, his everything, thank you very much

That’s right tell her off for saying that, good lad

On a sidenote; my video quality is shit, like super shit, because I’m streaming on Netflix and there’s a few other people in the house using internet so like, :(

“For a while he was sending money and then one day he just stopped” ah yes, every child of divorced parents can relate to this statement very well

i’m sorry but the music is so cheesy

anyway, i was gonna say that this movie lacks something, and i remembered what it is, and that is love. Like with KK1, 2, and 3, you can tell a lot of love and heart and soul went into making those movies (maybe not as much with 2 and 3, but it was still there and in good amounts). Meanwhile, this just feels like a cashgrab (which it is, and a very failed one at that)

Like, when will people learn that well-crafted media will get you better reviews/more money/whatever?

I hate this fucking background music so much jesus christ please kill it

Please tell someone about the hawk i am worried for its health

The fact that Miyagi has lived with Daniel so long to a point where he’s forgotten he has to actually knock on doors (because you bet your ass Daniel was and still is the type of person who really just doesn’t give a single fuck about who sees him doing what)

This poor man tbh. So ashamed of himself

FUCKING I WAS RIGHT I LITERALLY JUST SAID THAT WHOLE SHIT ABOUT MIYAGI AND DANIEL NOT GIVING TWO SHITS ABOUT SEEING EACH OTHER DO WHATEVER AND NOW MIYAGI’S JUST OUTRIGHT CONFIRMED THAT

“Boy is easier” 100% I will agree, hence the reason I’d like sons in the future. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d like at least 1 daughter as well but holy hell are females complicated (and I should know because I am one)

“Don’t order me around” sweetie, he isn’t ordering you, he’s making a helpful suggestion. Please stop the Miyagi slander, my man does NOT deserve this treatment

Miyagi, love you bb, but please don’t waste your advice on Julie at the moment

Speaking of, I greatly dislike Julie, but you know why that is? Because she’s really not been fleshed out as a charater, unlike the others we see in the KKU. Like her one redeeming quality is that she looks after a bird, but even that isn’t redeeming to me because she isn’t caring for it properly, like please take it to a fucking veterinarian

I feel like I’d enjoy Julie more if she was actually fleshed out but like, no, no, she’s just a whole “I’m an orphan so I’m always angsty grr” character and I just - I’m disappointed

Same goes for the other characters; again, the only thing/person I love about this movie so far is Miyagi, and with the way it’s been in these first 25 minutes, I doubt that’ll change

Yeah no I really fucking hate Julie. “You can’t even speak English” she says, even though she has understood every single word Miyagi has said thus far

Ah yes because people can definitely jump on cars and cars can definitely go unnoticed for such a long period of time in a quiet neighbourhood

I honestly feel like giving up on this movie like it’s so bad

But I want to see more Miyagi so 😬

No offence to Hilary Swank but her line delivery could do a bit more work during the ‘emotional scen’ with her and Miyagi

And again, music, hate it

I am literally willing to turn this movie off even if it means I don’t get to see more Miyagi content

Like I can not express my displeasure for this movie enough

Yes, Miyagi, same, I hate the 12am rock concert in Julie’s bedroom to. Like please, gurl, some of us have sleep schedules

Okay so now Julie’s worried about her appearance?? Y’all just made my hatred for her character rise again. When was she ever worried about that? imo this is just put in there to make people remember that she’s still “girl uwu 😙✌”

Haha, yes, pay Miyagi with the homework that’s right

Bet he did that with Daniel after the tournament like “you do homework, I teach karate”

“Boys easier” AGAIN I AGREE SO MUCH MIYAGI

Okay so I’ve sat through 33 minutes of this bullshit and I am going to quit for today. I’m sorry to anyone that does like this movie, but like I really don’t, it sucks in so many ways. Words cannot describe the sheer amount of dissapointment I have for this. Like, it could have been good! The idea is solid and the base of the characters is somewhat okay! And yet they made this shit instead of something actually worthwhile!

I will continue tomorrow, but for now I just need a break from this before I hit something.

#karate kid #the next karate kid #julie pierce #mr miyagi

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whymylife-101 · 4 years

Text

Pen...Pals? ~Kenma Kozume X Reader~

Description-

Okay, so @OIKAWAS (on wattpad) originally made this idea/plot, but I really liked it and (for the time being) they discontinued it, which was really sad to me because I feel like they got Kenma's personality down really well! (Though I do understand why they did it and completely respect their decision) So I just kinda thought I'd put my own little spin on it! Okay, thanks for reading and i hope you enjoy!(This book and all my other ones are gender neutral, I don't like excluding people so if I do make a mistake anywhere then please let me know!) (Also, any art in this book is not mine! I'm not sure who most of the artists are because I got the pictures off of google, but if you do know please tell me so I can give the proper credit!) -Started; March 30th, 2020 (3/30/2020) -Finished; March 30th, 2020 (3/30/2020)

Chapter One;

~Reader's POV~

I walked into class and sat in my desk next to one of my best friends. "Hey.." I yawned out, rubbing my eyes. "Did you stay up late playing video games?" (F/n) questioned with an eyebrow raised. "I didn't say up that late." I told them truthfully. "You say that every time." They told me, rolling their eyes with a small smile on their face.

The teacher walked in as our conversation came to a close. "Alright." The teacher started. "Because in this unit we are going more in depth about Japanese history and we already studied the culture, I thought it would be a fun idea to get a first hand experience with some of the kids that live in Japan. I was lucky enough to get Nekoma High School to agree."

At this, some people started to murmur about how cool and excited this would be. The teacher cleared her throat to get the classes attention and to signify that she wasn't done talking. "Make sure that your letters are appropriate and don't share any personal Information. I will mail them by the end of this week and yes, they are for a grade."

The kid in front of me raised their hand. "Mrs, do we write in English?" The teacher nodded her head as she picked up a tiny box. "Any other questions?" When no one raised their hands or called out, she then proceeded to explain what the box was for.

"Now then, I'm going to walk around and your going to pick out a name from the box. Then I want you to get started on you letters." She walked around to everyone's desk, and everyone pulled out a random strip of paper.

When she got to my desk I put my hand in a grabbed the first piece I touched the pulled it out quickly. "Hey, who did you get?" (F/n) asked. "I got Kenma Kozume, who did you get?" I asked. "Fukunaga Shohei." They said, pronouncing it very slowly while trying to sound it out. I giggled slightly. "Maybe you should ask him how to pronounce his name." "Oh shush!" My friends said, lightly hitting my shoulder.

"Okay class, start working on your letters." My teacher said as she put the box beside her desk and started to grade papers. I took some lined paper out of my bag and began to write my letter.

When the bell rang I had a little more than a full page done. I had written a little bit about me, what I look like, and some cool places I've been to that were near me. I had also asked him some questions about himself and Japan.

I gave the letter to my teacher as I headed out the door with (F/n) right behind me. "Hey (Y/N), what do you think your pen pal is going to look like?" They asked as we pulled up her our lockers. "I don't know, you have any idea about yours?" I asked back. "Well they say people with difficult names are hotter." My friend said, making me laugh. "That's such a weird stereotype, where did you even hear it from?"

"W-well, there's this YouTube channel-!" My friend started, but I interrupted them. "And your really going to trust some nut-job on the Internet?" (F/n) crossed their arms. "At least I try to search up informational things in my free time." "Touché." I once again laughed as we made our way to the lunch room.

"So you think your pen pal is going to be hot?" I questioned, making them blush. "S-shush!" Once again I laughed as (F/n)'s face exploded in a blush. "I can't say I know for sure what my pen pal is going to look like, but I hope they like video games."

"What, you want them to send you over some Japanese exclusive games?" (F/n) said sarcastically. "That wasn't the intent purpose, but I suppose I wouldn't go against the idea. I just thought we could bond over video games." I hummed out.

"Hey!" I heard (f/2) (that means friend number 2) say as they sat down at our little table. Me and (f/n) gave our own versions of a hello. "Hey, you did the pen pal thing last year right?" (F/n) questioned, making (f/2) nod their head.

"Yea, are you guys doing that now?" I nodded my head. "Oh that's so cool! Ya know, I still talk to my pen pal. His name is Kuroo Tetaurō." (F/2) said. "Oh wow, you guys still do the pen pal thing?" (F/n) asked. "Oh no, we exchanged numbers towards the end." (F/2) laughed out.

We continued to talk about the pen pal stuff and (F/2) told us what we should expect going into it. After lunch was over me and (F/n) dumped our trays and said goodbye to (F/2).

"Are you excited to get a letter back?" (F/n) asked me. "A little, you?" I questioned back. "A little." They said, copying me, making me laugh. "Okay, lets get to class."' I told them, rolling my eyes.

Chapter Two;

~Kenma's POV~

I sat in class, sneakily pulling my phone out to play Pocket Camp, class hadn't started yet and I really had nothing better to do. A few minutes past and Fukunaga had sat behind me. "Hey Kozume." I gave a hum in response.

"What are you playing?" He asked, trying to take a look at my phone. "Pocket Camp." My tone was dull as I continued to try and complete my missions and stuff that I needed to do for Bob and Rosie.

The bell rang throughout the halls which could be heard from inside the classroom, signaling me to put my phone away so I wouldn't get in detention and have to run extra laps at volleyball practice. Once I slid my phone in my pocket the teacher walked in with a box and a lesson plan in hand. "Good morning class."

"Good morning." Me and everyone had said back. "Today we are going to be doing something different. Because we have been learning about a ton of other countries, a school from (insert where you live) reached out and asked if we could do a "pen pal" type of activity. That way you guys can learn about the place first hand from someone that lives there, and you can tell your pen pal how it is here."

"Now your pen pals have already been assigned and they have already written a letter to you. I have this box with me, and I'm going to go around and hand out everyone's letters." After he finished he grabbed the box and started to walk around. Eventually the teacher got around to my desk, he quickly shuffled through the letters and found the one addressed to me.

"Hey Kozume, who'd your say it's from?" Fukunaga asked as he looked down at his paper. "Umm... (L/N), (Y/N).... you?" "(F/LN) (friends last name), (F/n)." He answered. I nodded my head, fixing to pull out my phone again when the teacher had asked us if we had any questions. The girl in front of me raised her hand. "Are we writing in Japanese?" The teacher shook his head. "No english." Another student then raised a hand.

"Are we aloud to send pictures?" "As long as they are appropriate, any other questions?" When no one raised their hands the teacher told us to start reading the letters and once we finished to start working on our letters that we'd give back, and that they'd be due by the end of this school week. On that note we started to read/write our letters.

About half of the class consisted of me writing something down and erasing it not long after, so all I had was:

'Dear (L/ N), (F/ N)

My name in Kozume Kenma.'

Sighing out of frustration i looked behind me, catching Fukunaga attention. "Umm... how do we start the letters?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck in embarrassment. "Well," Fukunaga started. "I introduced myself, told them how to pronounce my name, and told them to call me by my surname. I started to list some things about me and I told them

I would have pictures of different places that most tourist would want to see when visiting. Oh! And I also described what I looked like. But I also answered some of their questions two."

I nodded my head and thanked him, then turned back around to finish my paper. When the bell rang I had a little under a half of my page full. I sighed, and put it in my book bag so I could finish it at home and get the pictures I needed.

I quickly pulled out my phone and slung my bag over my shoulder as I made my way out of the classroom and into the hallway with Fukunaga by my side. We both walked until we got to class 2-3 where Yamamoto was and waited for him so we could walk to our club together.

Once Yamamoto came out, him and Fukunaga started chatting while I was silent, playing on my phone. I was just fixing to beat a new level on my game when suddenly I could feel a hand wrap around my shoulders, which caused me to glance to me side to see Kuroo. "Hey shorty." "I'm not that much shorter." I told him plainly as I continued to play my game, as we walked into the changing rooms.

I didn't take a second to glance around me, and instead sat down on one of the benches as I was trying to hurry and finish the level. Which I successfully did. A sigh of relive slipped through my lips as they tugged up into a small smile. "Hey Kenma? Hurry up and change or coach is going to make you run extra laps." At Kuroo's works I slid my phone in my bag and started to change into my volleyball uniform.

I walked out of the changing rooms after practice with my phone in hand and Kuroo by my side. He was talking about his day and some of his classmates as a made a few comments here and there. Suddenly, Kuroo stopped talking as his phone buzzed.

He quickly pulled his phone out and started to type to the person, a smile coming across his face. "Awfully quiet on your end." I noted, not taking my eyes off my game. "Well, (f/2) is texting me." He chuckled. "Come to think of it, it was around this quarter that I first got a letter from (f/2). Are you guys doing that pen pal thing?"

I nodded my head and gave a hum. "Who did you get?" "Uhhh... I think the last name was (L/N)?" Kuroo nodded his head and started typing something on his phone, a few minutes later he gave off this devilish smirk. "Is something funny?"

Kuroo gave off a chuckle. "It's nothing." He said as we continued walking until we came to my house. We both waved goodbye and I quickly unlocked my door, trying not to lose my level. I then walked inside and closed the door with my foot, haphazardly kicking my shoes off in the process. I then walked up the stairs and into my room, shutting the door the same way I did downstairs, then plopped on my bed.

I quickly finished the level and set my phone down. "I should probably try and add something to the letter... and get some pictures..." I told myself quietly as I got up and got back to work.

Chapter Three;

~Reader's POV~

It's been about a week since we turned in our letters and our teacher had the letters from our pen pals ready for us to read. On the envelopes they made us write who they were to and who they were from.

When the teacher called my name, I came up and grabbed the envelope and sat down at my desk. Once we got our envelopes we where told to wait until everyone had gotten theirs so that way we could all open them together and there wasn't a bunch of noise as she was trying to pass out the envelopes.

I couldn't help but feel butterflies in my tummy at the thought of what my pen pal could be like. Would they have similar interests that i have? Would they be the polar opposite of me? What did they look like? These thoughts and millions of other swarmed my head.

That was until the last person got theirs, she told us we could read them and then write a response back, and that they were again, due at the end of the week.

I opened the envelope neatly, unlike some people that chose to just tear them open. Once I opened it I started to read it to myself.

'Dear (L/N), (Y/N)

My name in Kozume Kenma (Ko-zoom-e Ken-ma), but please call me Kozume. I live in Tokyo Japan and go to school at Nekoma High, but you probably already knew that. I'm on my schools volleyball team and in my free time I like to play video games (some of my favorites are Pocket Camp and Mario Cart). I find it hard to describe things so I decided I would just put a couple of photos of me and my volleyball team in the envelope two (I'm the one with the black hair fading into blond). In Tokyo there is mainly a lot of food stands/shops, and a ton of stuff for tourists, I'm sorry, but I really don't know how to describe it. If there's anything in particular you wanted to see I could always take a picture. I'm not really a social person so I apologize for the lack of writing.

-Sincerely, Kozume Kenma.'

I looked towards my friend to see they got a whole two pages, front and back, while I barley got even a full page of writing. "Wow..." I said quietly to myself. I decided that I would go ahead and look inside the envelope for the pictures that Kozume said he sent.

I saw some miniature pictures in the bottom and took them out, the first one was a picture of the whole Nekoma volleyball team, It wasn't hard to find Kozume because he was the only male with the hair colors he described. He was also the only one holding his phone and looking down at it.

I then looked at the next photo to see it was one of him and a guy with bedhead. Kozume wasn't looking down this time, instead, he stared straight at the camera with a small smile as the bed-headed male gave him bunny ears.

The next, and last photo was of just Kozume, he was standing on the side walk, and was glancing up at the person taking the photo with a phone in his hands. Unlike the other ones, where he was in his team uniform, he was actually wearing casual clothes.

When I put the photos down I could feel some heat making its way to my cheeks. I wouldn't deny that Kozume was fairly attractive, but the thought of the semester being over and him being nothing more than a faint memory kept me from thinking about it to much, instead, I focused on writing another letter.

I couldn't think of much to write about, I just asked him who the bed haired male was, told him some video games that I enjoyed, I also told him what club I was in and told him I also would send photos of me and some places around the city.

The bell rang and I decided I would put my note in my bag so I can get the pictures I needed (Im sorry if this feels repetitive). I again made my way to lunch with (F/n) and (F/2).

"So (Y/N), do you have anything in common with your pen pal?" I paused the game I was playing and looked up at (F/2), slightly blushing at the thought of Kozume, though it went unnoticed to the two in front of me. "Yea, we both like video games, and I found out he had a Pocket Camp account."

"Oooh~ Are you going to give him your friend code~!" (F/n) tried to tease me, but I just unpaused the game and ignored them. "Aww come on! Don't do us dirty like that!" I continued to play my game and try to block out my friends. I could hear one of them puff out a short breath of air, meaning they were going to tease me more, but thankfully the bell came to my rescue, and I quickly got up to leave and go to my class.

At the end of the day I was walking home with (F/n) and (F/2). They were talking while I was playing a video game on my phone. "Hey (Y/N), how did you respond to your pen pal?"

I quickly looked up from my game to glance at my friends (who had smug faces) and back down at it again. "I wrote a little about video games and the city here... I also told him I'd include pictures like he did."

"Ohh! So he sent you pictures! Is he good looking!?" (F/n) shouted, making a light blush spread across my cheeks. "Uhhh... idk. You can be the judge of that.." I took out the letter in my bag and handed it to my friends. "He's the one with the blond hair and dark roots."

I heard (F/n) giggle at the male in the picture. Suddenly, (F/2) gasped. "Hey! That was my pen pal last year!" I quickly glanced up from my game again to see they were looking at the second photo and (F/2) had pointed at the male with bed hair. "Oh yea... I was wondering what his name was." I told them as my eyes went back to my phone.

"It's Kuroo!" (F/2) was looking at the photo and stared at the "Kuroo" guy with a dark blush. "Ah, the one you like." I paused my game to see their reaction, and it was priceless. Their face lit up an even darker shade of red that spread to the tip of their ears.

"Hey! We're at your house! Don't you think your mother wants you home?!" (F/2) quickly said, trying to get me to stop teasing them. "Guess we are." I said, taking the letter and photos back from my friends and headed inside.

When I got home I immediately went to my room so I could print off some pictures of myself. I found a few of me, (F/n) and (F/2) and printed them. After words I put them in the envelope and tried to finish my letter.

I heard a knock on my door as I was putting the letter in the envelope. "(Y/N), dinner is almost ready." I heard my mother's voice as she opened the door. "Okay, do you mind if I go take some pictures real quick for a school assignment?" I asked, taking my phone off of the charger. "Sure dear, just be back in 30ish minutes okay?" I nodded my head, and said a quick "yes ma'am" as I put my shoes on.

My mom left, to where I assume to be the kitchen, as gathered my things. I quickly plugged in my headphones to my phone and made my way downstairs. I then made my way around town and took quick pictures of some things that I typically see tourists go to.

When I was finished I made my way home, my mother telling me I was just in time for dinner. I quickly ate, telling my mom it was delicious as always, and then made my way upstairs. I hooked my phone to my computer and downloaded the photos I took. After a few hours of it downloading I was finally able to print off the ones I liked and put them in a separate envelope. 'Finally I can go to sleep.' I thought to myself as my body was finally able to hit the bed.

Chapter Four;

~Kenma's POV~

When I woke up I had realized that I woke up extremely late and I missed half of my classes. At this realization I rushed myself to the bathroom to get dressed and quickly checked to make sure I had everything before running out the door.

I pulled out my phone while running to see that it was already 10:27. 'Shit... I'm not going to make it in time to receive my letter!' I haphazardly threw my phone in my pocket and continued running.

At some point I skidded to a stop in front of my classroom. I was panting from running all the way here, so I took a second to regroup myself before I decided to knock on the door. I adjusted my tie and smoothed out my school uniform a little before lifting my hand, but just as I was about to make contact with the door, the bell rang and students started to file out of the rooms and into the hallways.

I stepped back to give the ones leaving some space. "Ahh, Kozume! You were late today." I could hear Fukunaga say as he exited. "I have your letters, I was planning on giving them to Kuroo, so he could leave it at your house, but I guess your here now." He told me, holding out a white envelope and a bigger orange/yellow one for me to grab. "Thank you."

I was still taking shallow breaths as sweat gathered on my temple, so it was no shock that Fukunaga noticed and made a comment about it. "The last time you were this tired was when you skipped practice because of a video game and coach made you run the entire practice. Where you really that eager to get your letter?"

At this a light blush came to my face. "No. I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss all of my classes and that coach wouldn't make me do that again." I told the male, referencing to the first, and last time I'd ever skip practice.

"Was it worth it?" Fukunaga asked as we started to walk. "No." I answered quickly while scrunching up my face at the thought, making Fukunaga laugh.

When I got home I made my way to my room and got the two envelopes out of my bag. I opened them quickly but made sure to not rip or tear anything.

After I read the note I took the photos out of the white envelopes first. When I saw the person I was pen pals with I could feel what raise to my cheeks and the corners of my lips tug into a small smile.

The first picture was of (L/N) and two of their friends. (L/N) was in the middle and held up a peace sign with a bright smile, while the one on the left held bunny fingers behind (L/N)'s head, and lastly the friends on the right had a small smile while they took the photo.

The second picture was only of (L/N), they were standing on side was as they covered the bottom half of their face, poorly hiding a blush, as they looked off to the side. This picture in particular made my small smile stretch a little into a grin.

The third photo made my smile instantly fall. This one had (L/N) and another male in the photo. In this one they were yelling at the male while he laughed at them. I felt some anger slowly form in the pit of my stomach. The first thought I had was that this was (L/N)'s boyfriend, which made the anger rise a tad more.

But then referencing to the letter, they said, as quoted, they took some pictures of themselves and "some of my friends" I quickly looked back at the letter to make sure that I didn't skip over anything, and referencing back they didn't say anything about a boyfriend. This made me relax a little, so I dismissed the option that it was their boyfriend as there was no evidence.

I picked up the yellow/orange envelope, opening it. Inside we're five pictures this time.

The first one was of a statue that has a little golden plaque near it, the statue itself was of a older looking man with a cane, just like the plaque the man was golden as well.

The second photo related to the first one, as it was a closer look of the plaque. As I read it, it explained how the statue was of the man that had founded their country.

The third photo was of a really nice looking castle. There was a little note at the bottom of the letter that said that this was where the man from the first picture had lived, and that both of these were a really big spot for tourists.

The fourth photo was at the castle again, except this time (L/N), the two friends from the first photo, and the male from the last one, were by one of the many knight armor that was lining the walls. They all made funny faces at the camera, looking like they were having a good time.

The fifth photo was one that made my blood boil. It was in the same spot at the last, but this time the male had leaned really close to (L/N) with his lips pressed against their cheek. He had a light blush on his face while (Y/N) had a huge one on theirs while their eyes were also wide open.

I couldn't help but glare at the photo that was currently in my hands. Suddenly their was a knock on my door and I could hear it creak open. "Hey Kenma, my parents are having a double date with your parents again tonight, so I was wondering if-."

With each word that left Kuroo's mouth I knew he was getting closer and closer to my side as his voice got louder, but I couldn't care less, even when he was right beside me and stopped talking, my eyes never left the picture, and my glare didn't falter either.

That was until Kuroo gave out a large cackle. I looked up and gave Kuroo the same glare, which only made him laugh harder. After ten minutes of his obnoxious laughter, he finally had enough and was clutching his stomach as he wiped away a fake tear.

"Kenma... that was the funniest thing I've ever seen you done." He wheezed out. "Now what are you glaring at?" He asked, snatching the photo out of my hands.

"Which one is the pen pal?" He asked, after a moment of studying the photo. "Take a guess." I mumbled out. "Hmm... the one being kissed?" Kuroo asked with a smile. I only puffed out my cheeks in annoyance as I fell back onto my bed.

"Hey, I didn't know your pen pal knew mine." "What do you mean." I leaned my head to the side to look at Kuroo. "The one with the (random hair color) and (random eye color)." Kuroo turned the photo so that I could see it and pointed at one of the people that were in the first photo.

My eyes shifted from the person Kuroo was pointing at to the male and (Y/N), making me groan and turn the other way. "Ya know, I've never seen you so upset about a person." Kuroo pointed out, and by his tone I could just picture the smile he was giving me.

I grumbled out a excuse under my breath which only caused Kuroo to laugh. "How about I treat you to some apple pie?" I sat up slowly and glanced at Kuroo then to the picture that was in his hand.

"Are we going to the one on 57th street?" Kuroo nodded his head at my question. Instead of replying I stood up and put my shoes on. We both walked in silence to the bakery that I loved.

Kuroo had just left my house so I decided I would take the left over pie from earlier and take it to my room so I could start writing me letter.

As I started to write it the only question I could think of asking was "who was the boy" and "is he your boyfriend or is he just a friend" or "why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone"

The urge to ask (L/N) those questions, and many more, was very high. Eventually I got through the note without commenting on the mysterious male.

It was late so I decided to get some rest for tomorrow, but the longer I stayed without knowing that I'd get closer, the more thoughts that swarmed my head. Like, 'how long have they been dating' and 'are they still together' or 'did they break up' and 'are they maybe just childhood friends' and 'are they in a happy relationship' and of course many others. But lastly..

'what if that was me instead of him?'

Chapter Five;

~Reader's POV~

I walked into the classroom with a skip in my step, I was excited to be getting my letter from Kozume. I quickly sat down in my seat, with a wide smile.

"Wow, since when do you come into class without your face in your phone? Did you beat a new video game?" (F/n) giggled out. "I did finish Super Mario Brothers 2 last night, but that's not why I'm excited."

"Oh, is it the letter from your dear Kenma then?" (F/n) teased as I blushed. "Come on, we aren't even on first name basis." "Doesn't mean you don't like him~!" They teased even further, making me blush even darker in return.

Before I could rebuttal, the teacher walks in with the letters. "Okay class, I'll pass out the letters and I want you guys to write your responses quickly because we have work to do today.... I'll give you guys 15 minutes after I pass them out."

The teacher passed back the papers and I beam to read through mine.

'Dear (L/N), (Y/N)

Hello again, I wanted to say that I found you very pretty in the pictures you sent, it's not a surprise to me that you have a loving boyfriend. How long have you guys been together, and what's his name? By the fifth photo you sent with the castle I'd assume that it's been a while. I couldn't send photos this time, but I'll try in my next letter. I wish you and your boyfriend the best.

-Sincerely, Kozume Kenma'

At the word boyfriend I could feel my eyebrow quirk up. I wasn't dating anyone, and I haven't dated anyone in a few years. Then i remember sending a photo of (M/n) (male name). It was just a photo of me and him arguing over a video game, so I'd assume nothing when sending it, but i guess Kenma had assumed otherwise.

I quickly started off my letter by telling him that (M/n) wasn't my boyfriend, just a close friend I've had since Jr. High. I continued the letter by saying that he has been like a brother to me for so, nothing could ever change that. I then asked Kenma a few questions before closing off my letter and setting it aside. I didn't really have much to say, so my letter wasn't very long.

The 15 minute timer ran out and we continued with class as normal.

After my club me, (F/n), and (F/2) decided we would go to the arcade that was near by. "Hey (Y/N), I challenge you to a battle!" (F/2) said excitingly. "Oh!" I started, deciding to play along. "You dare challenge the queen!" This sentence made (F/2) giggle. "You mean the soon to be ex-Queen." (F/2) said smugly. "We'll see about that." I told them, a smirk growing on my face. "Now which game shall it be."

"Hmmm.... what about mortal combat!" (F/2) flicked my forehead. "You're on!" I yelled, racing them to the arcade machine. We both inserted our coins and picked our characters, then played.

"Ugh! Come on! No far!" So far we had done the best out of ten and I had won every single game. "Ahh, but I still have my crown. Looks like you couldn't beat the queen." I gave (F/2) a small smile.

"Oh, but I bet you want Kozume to be your king right?" (F/n) said out of nowhere, making me blush lightly. "I never said that..." I mumbled. "No, but you can't lie and say you haven't thought of it." This made my blush darken greatly and made me puff out my cheeks slightly. "I don't need a king...."

Chapter Six;

~Kenma's POV~

Just like very other week, the teacher passed out the letters. I was particular anxious about this one because of how many questions I asked about the mysterious male.

Not only that but what if it actually was their boyfriend? Will they think I'm being weird? Did I freak them out? What if they think I'm jealous? What if it gets awkward?

Once the teacher sat the letter on my desk I very hesitantly reached out to it. I very slowly opened the letter and then very tentatively read through the note.

In the very first sentence (L/N) had clarified that she was not dating the male in the photo, and that they were in fact childhood friends. And if anything he was a brother to her so nothing could have grown into anything bigger. I continued read on when the ending of the letter especially caught me eye, it read:

'I've been thinking about how this quarter is almost coming to an end, and in this short amount of time I have grown to consider you a really close friend and would like it if you addressed me by my first name. And if you wouldn't mind maybe we could talk about the possibility of me visiting during the summer (or vise versa)? I completely understand if you shut down both of my offers, I wouldn't want to make you feel uncomfortable. I look forward to your response!

-Sincerely yours, (Y/N) (L/N)'

I couldn't believe what I was reading. (L/N), not only considered us close, not only wants me to call them by their given name, but also would like to meet me in person. I was over- joyed to say the least, and I could feel my lips tug into a warm smile as I quickly wrote a letter back.

After school had ended I asked Kuroo to take me around Tokyo to some "touristy places" so I could take pictures to send to (Y/N), mainly because I didn't know the area well even though I've lived here for almost my entire life.

We walked around and took pictures of different things until around 8 and decided to head home. When I did get home I ate dinner and then printed the pictures to put inside the envelope along with the letter.

Chapter Seven;

~Reader's POV~

When I got in the classroom I was fidgeting a lot more than usual, and I guess (F/n) noticed. "Hey (Y/N), are you okay?" I nodded my head and took out my phone, I started to play one of my games, but I couldn't concentrate because my thoughts were spiraling.

Ever since I gave my teacher the letter to send off I had been anticipating Kozumes response. I was really worried about being to forward and scaring him off. But judging by the times we had play Pocket Camp, he seemed like he was having a good time? But I could have been reading to much into it?

As that thought crossed my mind my screen flashed with a "game over" text, making me sigh. I was way to fidgety to be playing the game and kept messing up.

"Woah, something just really be bothering you to lose at that game. What's wrong?" I sat my phone down and took a deep breath in and out. "I told Kozume to call me by my first name and I also told him that I could visit sometime if he liked. I'm just scared of what he'll say..."

(F/n) put a hang on my shoulder. "Hey, listen. You are a wonderful person and friends. If he can't see that through your guys letters and talks during your video games, then that's really his loss. You're beautiful, have a wonderful sense of humor, and have the most charming smile ever. If he can't see that then he's blind!"

(F/n)'s words made me giggle. It didn't erase my worries completely, but it helped a lot. The teacher then walked into the classroom and handed out the letters.

When I got my letter my nerves returned again... taking a deep breath I opened the letter and let that deep breath out, taking all of my worries with it. I grabbed the first the note and started to read it, praying there wasn't anything bad in it.

'Dear (Y/N), (L/N)

I wouldn't mind calling you by you given name if that is what you want, and I also wouldn't mind it if we arranged a meet up during the summers. Though if you wanted to tour Tokyo my friend would have to come with us because I don't know the area to well. I thought that I'd take some pictures of places that are near me and most tourist go. I also have little headings on the pictures to explain the the pictures a little.

-Sincerely, Kenma Kozume'

I couldn't help but smile when I read the bottom. Normally he would put his surname first, but this time he put his birth name, which meant that I would be able to call him by his birth name.

I then remembered that he had sent me photos and decided to open the separate yellow/orange envelope.

The first picture was a photograph of Tokyo Tower, the heading just stated that it was in fact Tokyo Tower and that some people mistake regular water towers for Tokyo Tower.

The second picture was of Kenma and his bedhead friend. They both stood in-front of the very famous Sensoji Temple. his arm around Kenma's shoulder while Kenma was looking down at his game. The heading had said the photo was of Kuroo and him last year when the bad went there on a school trip.

The third and last photo was Kenma and Kuroo again, but this time Kenma was looking at the camera, although he looked very annoyed, and Kuroo held up bunny ears behind Kenma. The head had explained that this was taken on a school field trip they had taken this year to Tokyo's National Museum.

I couldn't help but laugh at the picture in particular with a huge smile on my face. I quickly decided i should write a letter back to Kenma.

Chapter Eight;

~Kenma's POV~

Once again I got a letter from my teacher. When i opened it, it was all about (Y/N) gushing about how fun it will be to finally meet me in person. Towards the end of the letter (Y/N) had said that if i wanted to continue to talk, the i could give them my phone number. My last letter was short, I didn't really have a lot to say so it was pretty blunt....

As I got home from school I looked at my desk where my letter had sat, I didn't know if I should give that letter to my teacher or not.... the one thing I did know though was that my mind was constantly on (Y/N). My eyes always trialed to the small sliding drawer where I kept the letters she sent me, along with the photos.

I sat up from my bed and walked over to the desk and decided to re-read through the "old" letters. I even looked through the pictures. I subconsciously had a small smile on my face as I looked down at the photos.... well, all but two.

When I came across those two photos in particular my smile dropped. I immediately made up my mind as I saw those two photos.

Bad Ending;

~Reader's POV~

I walked into my classroom with a pep in my step. In my last letter I had asked Kenma for his number, and judging by how he still played Pocket Camp with me and came to visit my camp site, I'd say when I opened that letter, it was going to have his number in it.

I sat down and instantly started to fidget just like I did last week, the only difference being, this time it was from excitement. "You look happy this week." (F/n) pointed out, making me smile up at them. I honestly didn't have words to describe how happy I was, so instead I just nodded my head.

"Okay class, settle down. I thought I should point out before handing out these papers that this is that last letter that you will receive, and you won't need to write a letter back." After finishing this she started to hand the letters back. When the teacher got to me, she held a look of pity in her eyes and gave me an all knowing look, like she's seen situation play out like this a million different times before.

She then walked by my desk. She didn't say anything. She didn't put a note down, she just walked past and continued to hand out the notes. When she finished she had called me outside the classroom to speak with me.

"As you know, you didn't get a letter.... your pen pal, Kozume, decided that he couldn't bring himself to write another letter because of certain relationships you had with another male..." My teacher explained. The only thought racing through my head was "why".

"Um... can I go to the bathroom?" I asked. The teacher gave me a pitied look and nodded her head, walking inside the classroom. I went to the bathroom and went on Pocket Camp to text Kenma.

No matter how many times I texted him, no matter how many times he had seen it, he didn't respond.

He ghosted me....

Good Ending;

~Reader's POV~

"Okay class, settle down. I thought I should point out before handing out these papers that this is that last letter that you will receive, and you won't need to write a letter back." After finishing this she started to hand the letters back. When the teacher got to me, she smiled and gave me an all knowing look, like she's seen this a million different times before.

She didn't say anything though, and instead opted to just give me my letter. Immediately I opened it and grabbed the letter from inside. The words on the paper were short, sweet, and to the point.

'Dear (Y/N),

I can't wait for you to come to Tokyo, here's my number xxx-xxx-xxxx. Hope we can work the details out later.

-Sincerely, Kenma.'

My smile stretched further and I quickly got my phone out and punched Kenma's number into my phone, and quickly sent him a text saying that it was me.

-extra-

It was finally summer, and although I had to pick up some jobs, I gathered enough money to help pay for my ticket to Tokyo so I could see my dear boyfriend. I wanted to surprise Kenma, so I had been talking to one of his closest friends, Kuroo, for a few months about when to come and visit.

Eventually, we settled on a date and made plans. Kuroo was going to come pick me up from the airport and then take me to Kenma's house, saying he had a "surprise" for him.

I quickly texted Kuroo that I was boarding the plane and he said that he'd be seeing me in a few hours. When I got on the airplane and we took off, I could feel myself falling asleep.

I woke up to the captain saying that the plane had landed safely and that everyone could get off. I texted Kuroo and told him I arrived in Tokyo and he texted back saying he was waiting at the baggage claim.

I got my bag first and then started to look around for Kuroo. When I spotted him I I waved at him and called out his name. He turned to me and gave me one of his "signature smirks" as (F/2) had described it.

I walked up to him and we got into the car. Kuroo drove as we caught up and we also played a little bit of music. Mid way to Kenma's, I had gotten a notification from the boy himself.

To: (Y/N)<3

From: Babe<3

Hey, what are you doing?

To: Babe<3

From: (Y/N)<3

I just got off of work, can I text you when I get home?

To: (Y/N)<3

From: Babe<3

Yea, I'm sorry to bother you while driving. Make sure to stay safe.

To: Babe<3

From: (Y/N)<3

It's okay! I'll be safe, no need to worry. I'm not driving yet, though I'm about to. Ttyl!

"Who texted you?" Kuroo asked, not taking his eyes off the road. "It was Kenma, I told him I just got off work." "Okay, we should be there in a few minutes." Kuroo told me, making my lips tug into a small grin.

Not to long later and we arrived at Kenma's house. I couldn't help but have a slight bounce in my step as we walked to the front door, which Kuroo took notice of but chose not to mention. Kuroo had texted Kenma saying he had his surprise and to help him with it when he rang the door bell.

After we confirmed Kenma had seen the text and got a response I rang the doorbell with Kuroo standing behind me. A few minutes later the door opened, revealing Kenma.

When the door opened Kenma's eyes went wide and his mouth went slightly open in shock. His actions made me giggle. Before I could tease him, he quickly grabbed my wrist and pulled me in for a hug. His hands were around my waist as he buried his face into the crook of my neck. My hands rested around his neck as I took in his sent. 'Smells like apple pie...' I thought to myself.

Kenma suddenly pulled back and grabbed me by the chin, quickly making our lips connect for a split second before pulling away again. "Come inside." He said, opening the door wider to let both me and Kuroo inside. 'Tastes like it two.' I thought, with a wide smile.

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