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xreaderbooks · 1 year

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The Shadows of Our Love |3|

Chapter 3 | In the Shadow of Evasion

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: slow burn, language

Summary: Y/n had DADA and a group date in Hogsmeade

Also available on Wattpad and AO3

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a/n: let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future parts... picture is not mine, credit to @legacyshenanigans

Chapter 2 - Series Masterlist - Navigation - Chapter 4

The passing week went by as soon as it started with most- if not all your classes with the boy who was keen to avoid you for all of eternity it seems. Every attempt to talk to him was shut down with him quickly walking away in the opposite direction or talking to one of your classmates, finding any and every excuse to seem too busy to talk.

It hurt, you didn’t know what you did wrong, as far as you knew with the last exchange of letters, everything should be fine. He was getting along with Ominis despite the fact that you were the one who convinced him not to turn Sebastian in. Being a part of someone’s life, dueling side-by-side in life-risking situations, it’s almost impossible not to grow feelings.

You shared moments that one would dare call ‘bonding time’, fighting off all kinds of monstrosities, helping him find a cure for Anne no matter how drastic. You were his support when his own best friend wasn’t, and in a way he became yours. Poppy and Natty aside, he became a huge part of your life at Hogwarts, learning the secrets of your shared house (made you feel like you had a special connection with him), and especially out of Hogwarts with all the dangerous situations you both got involved in.

You foolishly thought he shared the same sentiment.

You felt betrayed, betrayed, and angry. You thought you were giving him space to heal, thinking you needed to heal on your own as well, you didn’t think you were giving Sebastian the perfect excuse to disappear on you.

When you walked into the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom on Friday morning, you were determined to get answers. He would speak to you whether he wanted to or not, one conversation was all you needed.

“Today I will be introducing the topic of Nonverbal Spells,” Professor Hecat announced to the class as soon as everyone had arrived.

The only familiar faces are Sebastian (of course, You thought), Leander Prewitt, and Cressida Blume.

Leander raised his hand, “But Professor, I thought we were going to continue our lesson on Dementors.”

Last class, Professor Hecat gave a lecture on the soul-sucking wraiths, their strengths, what they feed off of, and the charm that repels them. It was expected that you would be learning how to cast a patronus but she had other plans.

“I can understand that some of you are excited to produce a patronus charm,” She walked around the class and placed her hand on his shoulder as she passed him. “However it is more difficult than it may seem, Non-verbal spells and counter spells are just as exciting, Mr. Prewitt.”

“ Now, I would like for you all to divide into pairs, one partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence.”

You searched the room with your eyes dreading pairing with literally anyone other than Sebastian, due to the current status of your friendship, your choice would be either one of the Gryffindors that you were sort of acquaintances with.

“Mr. Sallow, I’d like for you to be paired with Ms. L/n,” Professor Hecat declares and motions for the two of you to take up an open spot on the floor. It looked like Cressida was headed for Sebastian and Leander was headed towards you. “Both of you are my most skilled students, it would do you both well to get a feel for Non-verbals, that way shall I need any assistance going further, you two will be more than capable.”

Sebastian look as if he wanted to protest but didn’t, you on the other hand were thanking Merlin for the opportunity, perhaps this lesson will be able to break the silence between you. Ironically.

“Sebastian, Why don’t you start?” The older woman suggested. “Y/n, try your best to block him. I’ll be walking around the room, checking everyone’s progress.”

You and Sebastian stood facing each other, 5 feet apart as everyone else was. There was no humor in his gaze as there normally was, you had gotten used to his jokes, the flirty comments that suggested more than there actually was between the two of you. When it was just the two of you on a quest, he had an easygoing manner that made fighting off villains, easier.

Now, in class, the intent in his gaze, was nowhere near humorous as he focused on the conjuration of a spell to attack you with.

You kept your ground, waiting for the blow, not sure what to expect from him. Your thoughts were soon answered as several moments passed and the knockback jinx sent you to the floor.

“Are you even trying?” Sebastian retorted, as you lifted yourself off the ground, nothing you haven’t dealt with before. The comment though, reminded you of the argument you had with him last year when he called you ignorant after finding out you were in league with Lodgok.

Oh, Lodgok. You shook the memory of the goblin who had been a victim of his own brother's wrath and how you wished you would’ve been able to defeat Ranrok before it was too late.

Another blast sent your way, you scowled dusting yourself off, once again standing from the floor.

“I’m fine Sebastian, thank you for asking,” You sighed and focused harder this time. You widened your stance, now that you knew what to prepare for, you felt the magical aura rise, and as you felt the vibration in your wand, with the perfect timing you blocked the spell with your wand. “My turn.”

You mentally think of the spell you wanted to use, nothing came to mind except for the sharp sting of his words.

His eyes narrowed for a second before going back to normal, steadying his stance to focus as you did before.

You willed a spell, any spell to counter his previous moves, the feeling of magic in your veins you wanted a stinging jinx one that would hurt him. A dull hum sang in the back of your head, familiar and consuming.

You tried to refocus on the stinging jinx, or a knockback spell, anything to bubble up your ancient magic. You winced as your wand sputtered out red, green, and purple sparks.

Sebastian had a hand on his hip, his head tilted as he observed you.

“Do you mind?” You shot at him, you felt the heat rise from your neck at the embarrassment.

“Not at all,” He smirked. You wished you could conjure something, anything to wipe the amusement of your failure off of his face. You weren’t used to not being good at something, it had been a long time since you felt a failure at the hands of something magical.

You sighed and attempted to will a single spell into your wand without saying a word, and every time, you felt the icy blue glow that came from your veins.

You both settled on him practicing jinxing you and you, blocking them. At the least, you were successful in doing that, but the glow from inside you never faltered, it was like it was absorbing all the power sent your way.

Professor Hecat dismissed the class after the second hour, encouraging you and your classmates to keep practicing and to begin thinking of one of your happiest memories, listing them if you had to, and turn in a paper on why it was your happiest memory for homework.

Leaving the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, you searched for Sebastian, in hopes of being able to tell him and thing or two about his treatment of you this past week.

Once again, he was gone before you could reach him.

~~~

The dorm was empty when you got there.

You got dressed into your usual brown pants, white blouse, and blue corset with a belt around your waist, lacing up your almost knee-high boots. It reminded you of the adventures you used to go on, making you reminisce, despite the dangerous feats you had to admit you missed it.

You descended the steps of the girl's dormitory and into the common room when you caught sight of Ominis who was already moving toward you.

“Hello, Y/n.”

“Hi,” You greeted him, placing a hand on his shoulder so he would know where you were.

“Have you spoken to him?”

You didn’t need him to specify who ‘him’ was, unfortunately, what happened just 30 minutes ago left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Not exactly…”

“He was in quite a mood in the Undercroft,” He exhaled. “I was simply minding my business when I hear the gate shut and he begins casting spells like a madman.”

You smile to yourself fondly at knowing Ominis ‘minding his own business’ actually meant taking a nap. Sebastian’s behavior was a surprise, in fact, you knew that is what he chose to do with his free time, especially when letting off steam but you couldn’t find yourself to care at the moment.

“I’m sorry to hear that he disturbed your peace Ominis, but he was in no mood to speak with me, nor I him for that matter. I tried to catch up with him after class, to tell him a piece of my mind- he’ll no doubt tell you about it when he’s ready- and he was gone.”

Ominis hummed in thought, you glanced at the clock, noticing it was almost lunchtime. You and the others had agreed to go to the three broomsticks for lunch, so you would all have the rest of the day to walk around and shop before dark.

“Garreth and I are going to Hogsmeade with a group if you’d like to join?”

“That’s alright, I should be checking on Sebastian, see if I can get him to stop being… well him.”

“Okay, next time then.”

He bowed his head as he used his wand to guide him to the boy’s dormitories. You climbed the stairs up and out of the common room, hearing the sound of the cement snake slither into an arch, you walk to the great hall entrance where you saw Garreth pacing around.

You cast the disillusionment charm, creeping up behind him and shouting in his ear. He jumped and screamed, it was a high-pitched one that echoed in the moderately full hall.

He clutched his chest, “You!”

You laughed heartily at his expression, “That was for yesterday. What are you doing out here for?”

“Well, meanie.” He lightly pushed you, “I thought of waiting for you in front of the Slytherin door like a gentleman but… you know, Gryffindor.”

“Aw, Garreth are you scared of a couple of Slytherins?”

He glared at you playfully, “Shut up.”

Footsteps, loud and heavy came closer from running. “Wait!”

Imelda slowed to a jog, stopping once in front of you and Garreth.

“I’m coming with you.”

You raised a brow in suspicion, “Really?”

“Ugh, don’t act so surprised Y/n, you said I didn’t know how to have fun.”

“So, you’re willingly coming with us?”

She shot you a look, weaving between the two of you, opening the Great hall doors and holding it open for you. “Well?”

You looked over at Garreth who shrugged. “You’re that desperate to prove me wrong.”

You and Garreth walk alongside Imelda, seeing Poppy and Natty sitting by the fountain with Leander and Nellie.

“I can be fun, I consider Quidditch fun, not my fault you lot can’t feel the greatness of winning. But since this is what you losers consider fun, I’ll try it.”

“Okay,” You responded simply. The sight of Leander trying and failing at flirting with Poppy makes you cringe. “Why’d you invite him?”

Garreth’s face held something cold, something you’d never seen from him, no matter what the circumstance. “He invited himself.”

“Let’s how this goes then,” You braced yourself for Leander's overbearing presence.

Natty and Poppy greeted you with a hug, and smiles for Imelda, Poppy gave Garreth a shy wave. One he returned with equal warmth in his cheeky grin.

~~~

The three broomsticks were busy as per usual so seating was a bit complicated but once a couple of people left, the boys who had let you girls take the available seats first (much to Leander's dismay), they were able to sit.

Lunch made by Sirona was arguably one of the best meals you’ve ever eaten, the time flew by with your friends, and Leander made more than a few distasteful jokes but nothing that could’ve ruined the good vibes.

You all got to catch up, sharing stories on what you were all up to during the summer.

Poppy helped her grandmother with her research on unicorn blood and its benefits, Natty went back to Matabeleland with her mother but only for a short period of time because of safety, you and Garreth told them about how it was to live together.

You both confessed to having a bit of a fling… mouths were left open, and jaws dropped. Imelda smugly said she called it.

“It was too weird, he’s like a brother now,” You said. “It was only for a month and a half towards the end of summer.”

“A month and a half?” Leander exclaimed.

“Who broke up with who?” Natty asked.

“It was mutual,” Garreth answered. “And gee thanks, Y/n/n.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing why you both decided to break up with each other, it was fun and a nice distraction. You had always found Garreth attractive and apparently so did he, but your heart belonged to Sebastian and he belonged to an unknown girl. The only time Garreth made a mature decision, it was easy to confuse the two when you both aching for other people.

You both knew that though your relationship could have continued, as a couple, you didn’t have the spark.

You chose to leave out the romantic feelings for other people.

“Now that I know red hair is your type-” Leander began.

“Leander!” Nellie smacked the boy behind the head.

She then, thankfully, changed the subject to her new hobby which sounded all kinds of risky. A new sport apparently, called rock climbing, she loved all things that gave her a thrill. Only a handful of people knew how to do it in the world, safely, that is.

All in all, a brilliant time, you had all agreed to do this every other week, just send an owl if you couldn’t make it. The rest of the night was spent strolling around Hogsmeade, looking at all the new in-season merchandise.

~~~

You and Imelda stumbled into the common room, tripping over yourselves and giggling. She took Quidditch too seriously, but other than being desperately passionate about the sport, she was a nice hang. She proved as much throughout your time, hardly being as stuck up as she normally was for literally everything.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, it had been a while since you felt this light.

That was, until she said goodnight, noticing how quiet you got. You stood stunned at Sebastian sitting in his usual armchair in front of the fire, book in hand, he stared at you as you stared at him.

Seconds, minutes, passed, and he broke the silent staring contest by going back to his book. You strolled passed him, pretending what passed between you, never happened.

~~~

Chapter 4

Taglist:

@vanivivs

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birchbow · 1 year

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I don’t know if this was previously asked but how would the troll language sound like to the human ear? I was also wondering if there are different dialects depending on the caste.

In most of my fics I don't really go into it, so everybody's speaking Space English lmao. But in the fics where Alternian as a language is actually a point of note, I like a very insectile vibe. I kind of like the idea that it's difficult and uncomfortable for humans and trolls to learn to make the noises for each other's languages--trolls do a lot of work with parts of their throat/chest/thorax that humans don't actually have, and are bewildered by how much jaw, tongue, and breath human languages require. Humans aren't physically able to make some of the noises trolls use for language, because they don't have the parts, and learning to make imitations of the various clicks, rattles, chirrs and trills is quite a learning curve.

RE: dialects, I could probably ramble for 1000+ words about,,, actually let me bullet point some thoughts because this paragraph is massively rambling.

my god though, the conflicting linguistic possibilities of a race that's apparently pretty aggressively homogenized overall, but also has incredibly disparate lifespans between very clear castes

do seadwellers speak an older version of Alternian? did shorter lifespans and rapid generational turnover among warmer-blooded trolls lead to "low class" vs "blueblooded vernacular", ie "load gaper" vs "toilet"?

Does the social pressure to stay on top of all the castes below you lead to more heavy enforcement of that divide??

ALSO the concept of like, the vocal posture of USING a "highblood" word being considered a dominant posture or power move--either just because of the associations of it, not using the most respectful language, making it clear "i'm a lowblood, a lower blood than you, I respect that", or for practical reasons! Saying this simpler (more archaic??) highblood word shows your fangs, the longer lowblood terminology developed partially to avoid that sign of disrespect! AHH

And also how much regional dialect DOES one want to write on Alternia?

I think I've written once or twice that Gamzee's got a "seaside accent", because I was thinking that rather than a certain section of land further on-shore, lots of purplebloods might gather spread out along the coast, as the caste right on the border of land- and seadweller. divides along location, but also along bloodcaste and color...

Does Alternia have countries? Does one assume those countries or continents have their own language and culture, when the population apparently only lives there for some short period of years/sweeps before being shipped off into space?

On Beforus we have evidence that other languages are a thing, but Alternia has apparently done away with all sorts of things in the name of the empire--conflicting languages seems like a liability in the march of conquest, so it seems reasonable to me that the language would all be the same--and how does it effect localized dialects and accents, if grubs are all hatched in the same place and then shipped out to different cities, continents, etc?

Or out to different planets/ships! Apparently the empire is ludicrously huge--do settlements on ships far from Alternia develop their own linguistic drift??

Or only if they're colder-blooded trolls, maybe, since trolls as we get them in canon can't reproduce amongst themselves and have to send back to the home planet to create a new generation--so therefore warmer bloods who die or get culled more quickly don't have much chance to develop and pass on new culture before a fresh wave of younger trolls from Alternia come in the follow them?

Does the new generation that's shipped out have its own weird culture drift in a DIFFERENT direction, as Alternian youth culture goes one way and a ship full of adult trolls far from their central civilization goes another?

The concept of a version of PoF where I went in with this as a focus is fascinating to me--Meenah whose mode of speech is written exactly the same but when younger trolls hear it they note that she sounds to them like she's speaking some ancient like, vintage dialect, ala someone who talks like a fancy victorian vampire. Kurloz is hard for the baby clowns to understand sometimes because he's speaking Old Clown and the slang and terminology has shifted over the hundreds and hundreds of sweeps he's been alive. a mix and match of his own speech and hundreds of sweeps of evolution along the way. Young trolls sometimes use terms/slang/dialect that even the generation shipped out before them don't recognize.

Relatedly though it feels like it would shake out to some degree ala various German dialects versus Hochdeutsch, but cranked up to a million--one Technically Textbook Correct version that a person could speak and be understood, maybe that you'd learn in schoolfeeding and that hasn't changed since basically forever, and then whatever billion personal little spins

just, holy shit, the subtle indicators you could get on someone's color, age, location, the amount of time they've spent with their elders off-planet, how old those elders have gotten, the linguistic habits they have--and the linguistic habits they enforce, what's considered polite, how rigid those rules are

I need to go to bed but holy shit man, there are so many axes you could fuck around on, I'm so damn feral thinking about this shit. it makes me into a wild raccoon. I am turning the concept of alien culture over in my pink little hands and splashing it in the water so I can consume it for power

#ask time!#Homestuck #I will never not be absolutely wild about the concept of societal and linguistic worldbuilding #I don't have answers for any of the questions I raised I just want to yell!!! I am just straight up yelling!!!!#ahhhhhhh!!

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gracelascl · 2 years

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Rosetta stone para escuelas

Rosetta stone para escuelas pdf#

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For example, Stories is a collection of short literature that you can read, listen to or even record yourself reading along. The Extended Learning Tools also further your language skills. As an immersion program, the sessions will be carried out in the target language. I find that many online language programs often lack speaking practice, mainly focusing on pronunciation and not on real communication with native speakers.Įach lesson on Rosetta Stone contains exercises to practice all four skills, and the pronunciation activities are equipped with their TruAccent speech engine to compare your recorded speech with native speakers.Īdditionally, conversation practice is also available through Live tutoring sessions. I feel that having these levels makes it more about the learner finding their comfort in a new language rather than ultimately being classed as an expert.Īnother great thing about Rosetta Stone is that you can potentially practice all four language skills on the platform. This structure seems less intimidating and more approachable for learners over the “beginner,” “intermediate” and “advanced” labels. Levels 1-2: Fundamentals and Connection.Instead of the generic proficiency levels, Rosetta Stone is divided into five levels and are based on themes: This might just be a personal preference, but I like how the levels have been structured on Rosetta Stone. It’s like how you learned your mother tongue as a kid. So rather than having translations or any sort of instruction on new words, you’re given visual clues to understand terms in your target language. The core lessons on Rosetta Stone are built on word-picture associations. Rosetta Stone might not be in the form of a game like Duolingo, but it has quite a few features that help to increase learner engagement. Rosetta Stone: The Language Program Behemoth from the ’90s What Are the Benefits of Using Rosetta Stone? With all that said, it’s really not that strange to be putting Duolingo and Rosetta Stone side by side like this.īoth have been praised highly in the industry, so why not investigate what each of them does right?Īnd to be as objective as possible, I also have to discuss where each falls short, and perhaps see whether the new beats the old when it comes to learning a new language in this day and age. And let’s not forget that your proficiency level, learning goals and preferences will also play into your suitability for a program. Free apps also have their downsides, often coming with hidden or indirect costs.Īnd though paid programs tend to be more comprehensive, the content and delivery of it might not be as engaging as one would need for a new language to stick in the long run.īesides your budget, other factors to keep in mind include accessibility, effectiveness and opportunities for progression, just to name a few.

Rosetta stone para escuelas free#

The fact that Duolingo is free definitely makes it very attractive, but your budget isn’t the only factor to consider when choosing your language learning resources. Is this even a fair or necessary comparison? On the other, we have a paid immersion course. On one hand, we have a fun (not to mention free) language learning alternative. (Download) Why Bother Comparing a New Language Learning Game to Old School Immersion Lessons?

Rosetta stone para escuelas pdf#

This blog post is available as a convenient and portable PDF that youĬlick here to get a copy.

Does the Newcomer Beat the Old School App in Reaching Fluency?.

What Are the Downsides of Using Duolingo?.

What Are the Benefits of Using Duolingo?.

Duolingo: The Cute, Gamified Experience and Today’s Most Popular Language App.

What Are the Costs of Using Rosetta Stone?.

What Are the Downsides of Using Rosetta Stone?.

What Are the Benefits of Using Rosetta Stone?.

Rosetta Stone: The Language Program Behemoth from the ’90s.

Why Bother Comparing a New Language Learning Game to Old School Immersion Lessons?.

In this side-by-side comparison, I’ll be pitting the classic Rosetta Stone against new kid on the block, Duolingo.ĭoes one end up rising above the other, or do they both have their merits? Rosetta Stone: Pitting the Old Against the New for Language Fluency Rosetta Stone: Pitting the Old Against the New for Language Fluencyīy Sheena Dizon Duolingo vs. Home » Language Learning Resources » Duolingo vs.

#Rosetta stone para escuelas

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onlinequranclasses12 · 2 years

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Sona, the Maven of the Strings build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Shilin Huang. Made for Riot Games.)

(Shit meme by yours truly.)

Revealing my Champion Mastery just to say that I play a lot of Sona. Don’t flame me for playing Seraphine and Yuumi I swear to god, and I have no idea why Teemo is in my top 10 highest mastery champs ngl.

Anyways you have no idea how happy I am as a Sona main that my girl is now top tier. I came to League of Legends from Overwatch (yes really) and I used to main Lucio in OW along with some of the more “techy” characters like Symmetra and Torbjorn. (Came to OW from TF2 where I mained Engineer and Medic.) Sona was a natural fit for me as a champion who was both easy to play and very similar to Lucio. It also helps that I joined the Rift during the single most engaging meta to ever grace this game. I was kinda too shit to play Janna but the Ardent Censer meta is also why I have such a high mastery on Lulu tbh.

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But enough about my history with League: Sona! Honestly when I think of an archetypical support Sona pops into my head a lot sooner than Soraka: a champion based on empowering their teammates in as many ways as possible with heals, shields, movement speed, and CC to hold the enemy team down. I’ve always loved playing her because she feels like much more of a macro oriented character than other supports, with team-wide support as opposed to keeping one person alive like Soraka or Yuumi or focusing on CC like Morgana and Nami.

I’m going to build most if not all the champions eventually but man I am happy to tackle Sona now. She’s always been on my mind as my main but it was pretty difficult to think of how to make her. I think this build is good enough though!

Wow that was much longer of an intro than I’m used to. You can really tell which champions I’m excited for lol.

GOALS

Everything in harmony - Sona boosts everyone on her team with her songs as they fill the air.

Triple time! - Sona’s ability to boost her whole team into a good position is always beneficial.

Crescendo! - Fun fact: Sona’s ultimate is canonically extremely painful as she forces you to contort your limbs against your will. Why is Sona needlessly macabre? Well remember that Riot also wrote Volibear as an Eldritch old god.

RACE

Sona is Human but if you want to be cool you can make her a Kalashtar for resistance to Psychic damage and advantage on Wisdom saves. Regardless we’re going to be making what’s known as a dollar store Kalashtar with Variant Human. Increase your Charisma by 1 as well as your Constitution because we kinda don’t need much else. You also get proficiency in one skill of your choice which will of course be Performance, and a language which you can pick as you fancy: you won’t be speaking it anyways lmfao.

That’s because “Only you can hear me summoner; what masterpiece shall we play today?” Grab the Telepathic feat to complete this dollar store Kalashtar package. Increase your Charisma score by 1 and get a 60 foot telepathy to speak while being mute. You also learn the Detect Thoughts spell and can cast it once without using a spell slot. "Did he want... four autographs? I don't understand."

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - Charisma is tied to performance and all the other stuff a Demacian noblewoman is expected to be good at.

14; DEXTERITY - Something something medium armor; even if you wear a dress there’s no reason you can’t have some padding beneath it!

13; STRENGTH - Hey this isn’t something something medium armor!

12; CONSTITUTION - Sona may be squishy in League but I value not dying more than good skill checks honestly.

10; WISDOM - Speaking of not dying: Wisdom saves are more common, and Insight is more useful than most Intelligence skills.

8; INTELLIGENCE - We had to dump something so unfortunately Intelligence gets the short end of the stick. You may have studied under the illustrious Buvelle family but most of those lessons were music classes.

If you want a better stat array going 13 / 14 / 12 / 10 / 10 / 14 with Point Buy is perfectly viable, and if your DM is cool enough to let you multiclass without Strength then you’re more than welcome to dump it.

BACKGROUND

There’s two obvious backgrounds that fit Sona: the first is Entertainer for proficiency with Acrobatics and a skill of your choice (since we already took Performance lol.) You also get proficiency with Disguise Kits and your Etwahl! (That’s what Sona’s instrument is called btw.) Your background feature By Popular Demand allows you to play any stage once. "Some, just the once.” You can perform in exchange for a place to stay, and when you do so the local people will remember your wonderful performance!

But making an Entertainer Bard is kinda cliché, no? If you want to lean into Sona’s Demacian heritage go for the Noble background. This gives you proficiency with Persuasion and History as well as a gaming set of your choice: unfortunately Tellstones isn’t an option (unless your DM decides otherwise!) so a Dragonchess Set will do well enough. Oh and you get another language that you won’t speak: fun! Your Position of Privilege makes it easy for you to arrange meetings with other important people, and the commonfolk will be kind and cordial with you.

(Screenshot from the Tellstones: King’s Gambit trailer by Riot Games.)

I personally opted to go for Noble when making this build, but if you want to choose Entertainer go right ahead! Backgrounds don’t affect too much overall and it’s up to you (and your DM) to make your own Sona!

(Artwork from League of Legends Wild Rift. Made for Riot Games. RIOT PLEASE UPDATE MUSE SONA ON PC I’M BEGGING YOU!)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARD 1

I mean what else did you expect? Bards get proficiency in three musical instruments of their choice: a Lyre is the closest you’ll get to Sona’s Etwahl, though a Dulcimer is also pretty close. I’d also recommend grabbing a Lute since most magical instruments come in Lute variety.

You also get proficiency in 3 skills of your choice like Perception to watch wards, Insight to watch people, and Athletics for a bit of Tenacity to break out of grapples. (As well as potentially grab some people yourself! Although Acrobatics is also perfectly fine for escaping grapples.)

As a Bard you can boost your ADC with Bardic Inspiration, letting them add a d6 to attack rolls, ability checks, and saving throws. You have a number of these equal to your Charisma modifier and they come back after a Long Rest.

But of course the main reason to play a Bard is to do Demacian-banned Spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list like Vicious Mockery for some diminuendo, making it harder for the enemy to hurt your allies while also cutting them down to size. (I don’t know if your DM will let you slap your Etwahl angrily and then point at them judgingly, but you may have to break your vow of silence every now and then.) You can also learn Prestidigitation for all sorts of general magic stuff that you really shouldn’t do in front of anyone important.

You of course also learn 4 Bard spells like Cure Wounds and Healing Word for the atypical healing spells, Dissonant Whispers for some Hymn of Valor damage, and Detect Magic which you’ll likely be expected to cast as the designated support. *Sigh* Always gotta buy wards.

LEVEL 2 - BARD 2

Second level Bards could be called a Jack of All Trades, as you get to add half your proficiency bonus to any skill you aren’t proficient in. This means even if your ability scores are bad the skills you don’t have proficiency in are still good enough! You also get Song of Rest, letting your allies recover an extra d6 of health during Short Rests. And if you have Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything Magical Inspiration will let your allies add their Bardic Inspiration to the damage or healing of a spell they cast!

And finally you can learn another spell: against as the designated support you’re expected to take Identify.

LEVEL 3 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two skills: Performance is an obvious must and Persuasion would probably be good as well.

But more importantly you get to choose your Bardic College and if you want to both shield your allies and speed them up look no further than the College of Glamour! That’s because Mantle of Inspiration grants 5 temporary hitpoints to a number of creatures within 60 feet of you equal to your Charisma modifier (which can include yourself by the way!) Additionally those creatures can move up to their movement speed as a reaction without provoking opportunity attacks, making this a great tool to reposition an ally who’s caught in a dangerous position!

You’re also capable of creating an Enthralling Performance: if you perform for at least 1 minute, you can attempt to inspire wonder in your audience. At the end of the performance you can choose a number of humanoids within 60 feet of you who watched and listened to all of it, up to a maximum equal to your Charisma modifier. Each target must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or be charmed by you.

While charmed in this way, the target idolizes you, and speaks glowingly of you to anyone who talks to them. They also hinder anyone who opposes you, although they avoid violence unless it was already inclined to fight for you. This effect ends on a target after 1 hour unless they take any damage, you attack it, or it witnesses you attacking or damaging any of its allies. If a target succeeds on its saving throw the target has no hint that you tried to charm it, and you can use this ability once per Short or Long Rest.

Finally you can learn second level spells like Hold Person, for a one-man version of your ultimate.

LEVEL 4 - BARD 4

Ah the first of many Ability Score Improvements. You may have noticed our deliberately uneven Charisma modifier: that’s because I’m going to be taking the Fey Touched feat for +1 to your Charisma, the Misty Step spell (for Flash, of course), and the Gift of Alacrity spell from Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount for a Song of Celerity! Accelerated movement? I concur.

You can also learn another spell as well as another cantrip! For your cantrip take Mage Hand for help warding those hard-to-reach areas, and for your spell take Lesser Restoration, because yeah it’s also your job to buy Mikael’s. *Sigh.*

LEVEL 5 - BARD 5

5th level Bards get a Font of Inspiration that lets their Bardic Inspiration come back after a Short Rest as well as a Long Rest. That’s good because your Bardic Inspiration increases to a d8, which also boosts your Mantle of Inspiration to grant 8 temporary hitpoints!

You can also learn another spell like Hypnotic Pattern: while it won’t do any damage and your allies can’t hit the dancing enemies it’ll still be the best recreation of your ultimate for now.

(Artwork by Katie “TeaTime” De Sousa. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 1

I hope you weren’t expecting this to be a pure Bard build, because then I’d just be building Seraphine again! Grab your something something Medium Armor as well as a shield (well technically you need both hands free to play a musical instrument) it’s Paladin time, master of auras!

Paladins get a Lay on Hands pool equal to 5 times their Paladin level for some more healing. You can touch a creature to give them any amount of health from your Lay on Hands, or use 5 hitpoints from your Lay on Hands pool to neutralize a poison or disease affecting them. You also get Divine Sense to locate any Celestial, Fiend, or Undead as long as they’re within 60 feet of you and not behind total cover. Don’t worry it gets a lot more exciting later.

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 2

Second level Paladins can choose their Fighting Style and you’re still more of a mage than a warrior, so Blessed Warrior will give you two cantrips from the Cleric list that use your Charisma! Guidance is an obvious must for a support and Toll the Dead is a great option if you want to go full AP.

Should you have options for attacks to target enemies who have high Wisdom? Yeah probably: Sacred Flame might be a good choice.

Of course cantrips also imply more Spellcasting! You can prepare a number of spells equal to your Charisma modifier plus half your Paladin level (rounded down) which is currently a freaking lot of spells. Let’s just go down the list, shall we?

Bless is great to buff your team and make them harder, better, faster, and stronger.

Command is a mostly harmless Enchantment spell that will force your foes to do as you, well, command. I’d argue “dance” is a reasonable Command.

Protection from Evil and Good is never bad to have in your back pocket in case you’re fighting either Kayle or Fiddlesticks.

And Shield of Faith will let you boost your ADC’s survivability with Ardent Censer!

I know you can prepare more spells but there isn’t much I want from first level of Paladin. I am contractually obligated to mention that you can also turn your spell slots into a Divine Smite if you hit an enemy with a melee weapon, but you aren’t really going to be using weapons in this build. That’s right boys hop aboard the caster Paladin train!

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 3

Third level Paladins get to choose their Sacred Oath and Oath of the Watchers may seem weird but it’s really good at defending your allies. That’s because you get two different Channel Divinity options: Abjure the Extraplanar works similarly to the Cleric’s Turn Undead feature except it affects Aberrations, Celestials, Elementals, Fey, and Fiends.

Watcher’s Will meanwhile lets you choose a number of creatures you can see within 30 feet of you, up to your Charisma modifier. For 1 minute, you and the chosen creatures have advantage on Intelligence, Wisdom, and Charisma saving throws. This means that in a party of 6 this ability can give your whole party advantage on all mental saves, which is huge for keeping everyone alive against nasty casters! See? Demacia can use your magic!

Speaking of magic you get Alarm and Detect Magic as Oath spells. (Might want to swap Detect Magic from your Bard list with Mass Healing Word ty Tasha’s.) You can also use Harness Divine Power to regain a spell slot equal to half your proficiency bonus a number of times per Long Rest. And you get Divine Health, because you don’t take a sick day to stop complaining about Seraphine.

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 4

4th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement: cap off that Charisma for maximum AP scaling!

(Artwork by Kelly Aleshire & Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 5

5th level Paladins can finally prepare second level spells! As a Watchers Paladin you get access to Moonbeam as well as See Invisibility, both of which are very good for dealing with incoming gankers.

You can also prepare spells like Aid to boost your allies’ HP, Prayer of Healing (ty Tasha’s) for some out-of-combat healing, and Warding Bond for a Knight’s Vow.

Oh and you get an Extra Attack, which sure would matter if you were actually using weapons.

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 6

6th level reasons get the main reason Sona’s a Paladin: Aura of Protection! All your saving throws are increased by an amount equal to your Charisma modifier, which is a full +5 currently! But what’s special about this ability is that it also applies to your allies within 10 feet of you, letting you give out auras a plenty to keep your allies safe!

You can also prepare another spell but again: not much I really want. So we’re going to be waiting a little while longer once again.

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 7

7th level Watchers Paladins get Aura of the Sentinel, or as I like to call it: Song of Celerity. When you or any creature of your choice within 10 feet of you roll for initiative, they gain a bonus to initiative equal to your proficiency bonus. While this may make positioning a little difficult (everyone’s going to have to huddle around you) this ability guarantees that you can speed up all your important allies to make sure they get their powerful abilities off!

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 8

8th level Paladins get another Ability Score Improvement or a Feat. You may have noticed your uneven Constitution score: grab good ol’ Resilient Constitution for a boost to your health and even more insurance on your Concentration checks. With your Paladin aura and proficiency you’d have a +12 total to your Constitution checks currently, meaning that if you take 24 damage or less you won’t even have to roll for Concentration!

LEVEL 14 - PALADIN 9

You are probably the only Paladin who cares about spells, so it’s nice that you get 3rd level spells now! Watchers Paladins get two very strong third level spells: Nondetection will help you deward and keep your allies safe from enemies that may try to sneak a peak at you, but Counterspell is the true best choice to stop danger from befalling your allies. What’s very good about Counterspell is that as a Bard you get to add Jack of All Trades to the skill check, meaning it’s far easier for you to deny an incomming spell than any other spellcaster! “Mages have enough problems without you.”

Of course you can prepare some more spells like Aura of Vitality for Aria of Perseverance, and Revivify for an ADC’s Guardian Angel. But having access to spells like Remove Curse, Dispel Magic, Crusader’s Mantle, and even Daylight on the Paladin spell list are all extremely useful to be able to prepare. Remember that you are doing yourself a disservice by not taking time to think about what the best spells to prepare would be for your current quest. "Every note is important."

(Artwork by Kelly Aleshire & Esben Lash Rasmussen. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 15 - BARD 6

Now that we’ve got all our auras it’s time to go back to Bard for Mantle of Majesty! As a bonus action, you cast Command without expending a spell slot as you take on an appearance of unearthly beauty for 1 minute. During that minute you can cast Command as a bonus action on each of your turns without expending a spell slot. Additionally any creature charmed by you automatically fails its saving throw against the command you cast with this feature. You do have to concentrate on this feature (like a spell), and once you use it you can’t do so again until you finish a long rest.

You can also learn another spell but there isn’t much I want from the third level of Bard, really. Oh and you get Countercharm which is awful and I hate it, but since you didn’t take a 10th level in Paladin I suppose you have to use it. Spend an action to give allies advantage on their saving throws against charms and fears, I guess.

LEVEL 16 - BARD 7

7th level Bard; 4th level spells. Freedom of Movement will let you help either yourself or an ally with Mikael’s Crucible, and Dimension Door is great to get into lane fast, or back to base fast!

LEVEL 17 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement, and if you don’t like the look of something something Medium Armor then the Eldritch Adept feat might be able to help. Take the Mask of Many Faces invocation to be able to cast Disguise Self at will to change your skins as you please.

Could you have taken this earlier? Absolutely. Are there better invocations? Yeah probably, but by level 17 you can make some of your own choices. Build your own Sona: this is merely a guide and you can make your own choices.

Speaking of own choices: take whichever spell you want at this level. There’s plenty of great ones for a 4th level Bard and I can’t recommend anything in particular to you. Every musician has their own style, and it’s up to you to find your own!

(Artwork by Yan Li. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 18 - BARD 9

9th level Bards get to pretend that increasing Song of Rest from a d6 to a d8 by total level 18 is helpful.

You do get access to 5th level spells like Mass Cure Wounds, which is like Mass Healing Word but better! "Harmoniously."

LEVEL 19 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get Expertise in two more skills: Perception is an obvious must to watch over your wards but beyond that? Honestly pick your poison with whatever skill you want since by level 19 you can make your own choices. (Though my personal choice would be Athletics to hopefully give some more safety against grapples.)

But of course the main boon of reaching level 10 in Bard is the Magical Secrets! ...I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you again: there honestly aren’t any spells in particular I want as Magical Secrets. Sure I could recommend spells like Haste or whatever but are they really going to be that great by total level 20? To be honest even the spells on the Bard list like Animate Objects, Greater Restoration, Hold Monster, Rary's Telepathic Bond, Scrying, and Synaptic Static are very good (although I’d sooner replace some of your old spells with them.)

Again I know this is supposed to be a “guide” but most people won’t hit level 19 anyways, so I don’t think it’s that bad for me to recommend you take your own steps to make your own Sona. Hell, build some AP if you want! I know I would!

LEVEL 20 - BARD 11

Our final level is the 11th level of Bard and I’ll be honest: it’s just to add Otto's Irresistible Dance to your spell list. It can only affect one person but it’s still your ultimate by total level 20.

Oh and you were supposed to get a cantrip last level. Uhhhhh I dunno take Mending lol.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

The rhythm connects us all - You have dozens of spells to keep your team alive and active during a fight, not to mention that all your Paladin auras and abilities really help them give 110%. It’s worth mentioning that Gift of Alacrity combined with Aura of the Sentinel is a d8 + 6 to an Initiative roll, which will almost always guarantee that whoever you want to go first will be going first!

A true masterpiece should celebrate living - Despite your somewhat weird level split you maxed out the only stat which matters for you: Charisma. And woah holy shit turns out Paladins are really good with maxed out Charisma! +5 to all saves means even your lowest save is a +4, and the saves your proficient in vary between +13 for Dexterity and Constitution (both very common!) and a whopping +16 save on Charisma!

Curtains up; I'm ready - Jack of All Trades also does quite nicely to help your middling skills. Even though I dumped most of your mental skills you’re still proficient enough that you won’t be completely helpless when caught off guard. And when you’re in the zone with Persuasion or Performance you are easily the best girl around!

CONS

Don't make me get off stage - It was my intention to recreate Sona’s positional gameplay with this build but it does present some gameplay issues when trying to maximize your effectiveness. Where do you position yourself as a character who’s still primarily a squishy caster despite your good saving throws and AC? Can you give everyone in your party support, or are they too spread out to get value out of your 10 foot range auras?

Quiet, please! - You have a damn good concentration check, but what do you concentrate on? Not only do you have a ton of spells but they all scale very good with levels and you have spell slots that go far higher than your maximum level spell. It can be hard to choose what to do with those 7th and 8th level slots.

The world is cruel... Until that changes, I'll never stop playing - One of many “meta” problems with this build was my choice to focus almost entirely on support. Sure Toll the Dead is a great damaging cantrip but your only two damaging spells are Moonbeam and Dissonant Whispers. Again: you don’t have to follow my build point-for-point and while you’ll be flamed in League for building Sona full AP I don’t think your friends will mind if you take some damaging spells.

But if you can’t tell it was really hard for me to come up with those downsides. With the exception of the positional requirements a Bardadin is a very strong build and Sona is a very strong support. Boost your teammates with your own amazing power and make sure everyone’s alive and jamming! Your power may have been forgotten over the years but no one’s ever upset to have a great support at their side. And remember: Seraphine may be in K/DA but you’re in Pentakill, and you have your own label! No one can replace DJ Sona!

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#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #League of Legends #League of Legends Sona #Sona #Seraphine didn't replace her #shut the fuck up #dnd bard #dnd paladin #music #Youtube

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Teenage Queen {Viktor Krum x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2835 Summary: Related to one Champion, ex of another and the budding love interest of a third. It’s one weird year.

Your final year at Hogwarts was not turning out to be as perfect as you had expected. You were just hoping that everything would go as normal; no deadly and dangerous adventures for your little brother Harry and his friends, no fighting with your boyfriend Cedric. Just a perfectly mediocre year where you focus on your studies, get good NEWTS and move on to train at your dream job. And then along came The Triwizard Tournament. Well, at least it was for Seventh Years only, and you had no intention of entering - and your fourth year brother certainly wouldn’t have a part to play in it, would he?

You couldn’t have one simple year at Hogwarts, could you? Not that you blamed your brother but ever since he had come along in his first year, things have been going wrong left, right and center. First, your boyfriend Cedric had been chosen as the Hogwarts champion, which he didn’t even tell you that he had entered. You were mad about that, but then when it came to the interviews and Rita Skeeter poking around, you had enough of it. Even his friends were coming along and asking questions about your personal life, since he was the only one of the FOUR champions to have a partner. This ended up in you breaking up with him, because he didn’t see the big deal about all of the intrusive questions. It was mutual, eventually, but you had to wear him down in order for him to see that it would be better if you spent some time apart.

And then Harry, sweet little Harry Potter who couldn’t catch a break, was chosen to be the Fourth Champion, which was entirely unheard of. You had charged into the room where the champions were and you gave Dumbledore a mouthful of words, as well as the Minister of Magic, but the rules were the rules and he had to compete. You tried throwing back that the rules had stated that it was only for Seventh Years, and that there was only to be one champion per school, but they claimed that their hands were tied. After that, you took Harry’s hand and pulled him out of there so the two of you could talk alone.

You were devastated. Especially in the coming days when it became apparent that a lot of people, including his best friend, thought that he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire. It was completely far away from Harry’s personality, and you vowed to help him through everything, studying your ass off on his tasks on top of your school work. He still had Hermione, though, and that was a relief. You were more worried about him than you had been about Cedric, whom you were convinced would do absolutely fine in the Tournament, and probably didn’t need your assistance.

You were sitting by the lake one day, doing your extra-curriculars. You took just the necessary classes this year, having dropped Divination and Arithmancy so you wouldn’t have to study as hard. But you were doing studies of your own, particularly in Russian. You wanted a job in which you got to travel the world, so you decided that taking languages, a course only done through talking books, was a good way to go. You were fluent in French, and learned more about pronunciation through the Beauxbatons students, but you didn’t know much Russian, so you decided to take that up so you could communicate with Durmstrang as well.

You were coming along pretty well, though your pronunciation needed some work. You were practicing in the weak sunlight of the Scottish Autumn, muttering to yourself. “Ya chuvstvuyu-” You started to pronounce, then realized it didn’t sound right, so you tried again. “Ya chuvstvuya,” You put more emphasis in, “-tvoyu lyubov segodnya.”

“Ochen khorosho!” The book praised back to you. You smiled, the romantic phases being something that you wanted to master. Okay, so maybe you weren’t entirely over the break-up with Cedric. It wasn’t him in particular, it was just having someone to care about, someone to care about you that you missed.

“Who var you talking to?” A puzzled voice said. You looked up from the speaking book to see that there was a student in front of you. You were so into your book that you hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. The sun was behind him, casting his face in shadow, though the robes showed Durmstrang.

“Myself,” You said, then held up the book to show what you were doing. “Practicing Russian. I’m on the chapter of romantic phrases.”

The student looked delighted, and much to your surprise, he sat down with you, looking over the pages. It was only as he leaned over to take a closer look, his finger running across some of the words, which made the book giggle aloud, that you realized exactly who it was. You turned red at this realization - because it was nonother than celebrity champion Viktor Krum, who you had just seen at the World Cup. You remembered the way that Cedric had gushed over how good of a seeker he was, and how amazing his flying techniques were.

“This one good-” He said, pointing to a certain phrase and then said it out loud. You read along with it, your eyes following his finger, but he added more to the sentence, words that you weren’t sure of.

“What does that mean?” You asked, realizing that you were still as red as a rose at his close proximity. You tried to tell yourself to act natural, pretend that it wasn’t a celebrity - a very handsome celebrity - that was this close to you, but you found it impossible. It wasn’t everyday that someone came into your space like this. The last person had been Cedric, but the two of you didn’t spend any time together since the break up. Just nods in the hallways, and awkward grins if you had a class together. You haven’t tried to date anyone else since, though Rita kept coming up with stories about you cheating on him with other boys. You hoped she wasn’t snooping around now with that damn quill of hers.

“You var my paradise,” He said, in his heavily accented English. That part was in the book. “-My...” He looked around, as if having trouble with translation. He pointed up at the sky, and then did little flapping motions with his hands. When you gave him a puzzled look, he put his hands above his head, his index and thumbs together to make a circle.

“Heaven?” You asked. He shook his head so you took another guess after piecing it together. “Heaven?" He nodded, with a smile and then continued to look around. He then pointed straight towards the sun, which was hiding behind clouds. “Sun?” You guessed once more. He nodded again.

“You var my paradise - my heaven - my sun.” He said, looking quite proud of himself. And he was saying it while he was looking right at you, which just made you feel all the warmer. You hadn’t really given anyone attention since Cedric, and since most of Hogwarts thought you two were the dream couple, no one else had tried to hit on you. But here was Viktor Krum, reciting such lovely things for you in a language that you were only beginning to understand.

“Beautiful,” You muttered in his mother tongue, and he beamed as he recognized the word. Until it was no longer light enough to study, and you had to conjure up a light and keep it in a jar - thank you Hermione for that idea - in order to see anything, he helped you along with your studies. And yet, you never seemed to get past the chapter of romance. He introduced you to new phrases, and would practice with you until you had the pronunciation down perfectly. The book had been quiet for a while, having no critiques for you, you were doing so well. “Thank you so much - you taught me a lot,” You said, getting onto your feet.

“You’re velcome,” He said, bowing his head respectfully, jumping up effortlessly. You scrambled to put your book into your bag, and he helped you, holding your bag open for you. “Maybe you can help me,” He suggested. You tilted your head, questioning what this man could ever want help with. The first task had gone swimmingly for him, he was a Quidditch star, he was handsome to boot. “With een-glish.”

“Oh, of course!” You said with a grin. “I would love to help. Why don’t you meet me in the library on Saturday?”

Four different boys asked you to the Yule Ball, and you had said yes to only one of them - sort of. Unfortunately for Harry, it wasn’t his best friend Ron who just seemed desperate to go with anyone. When you told the two boys that you already had a date, your brother kept questioning who it was. He seemed to have a theory that you were back with Cedric, which couldn’t be further from the case. You just left them guessing, looking forward to seeing their faces when you appeared.

Thanks to the small fortune that your parents had left for you and Harry, you were able to afford a stunning dress. And with some small alterations, you could probably make it last forever. It was your favorite color, floor length with see-through sleeves and a pinched waist to really bring out your body shape.

That, along with your confident smile and you were ready to go.

Your date wasn’t in your house, in fact he wasn’t even from this school. You flushed as you remembered exactly what Viktor had done in order to ask you, and you had to applaud his trickiness. He had written out ‘Will you go to the ball with me’ in Russian, and asked you to translate it. You had done so, thinking that perhaps he wanted to ask out one of the many Hogwarts girls who had fawned after him throughout the hallways, but instead of repeating it back to you, he had said ‘Love to.’ It took you a minute to realize what he had done, and you couldn’t stop laughing once you had it figured out. You agreed with that, and your date was set.

You were going to the Yule Ball with a champion. That was what worried you the most. The attention that you were going to get since you and Viktor had to participate in a dance in front of the student body. He hadn’t had the time to practice, since his own Headmaster was keeping him busy with studying for the tasks, but you did have another willing partner. Your brother Harry. It was easiest with him since he had to do the same dance at the same time.

As you walked down the stairs with a couple of other girls who were meeting their dates, you were nervous to see if all of that practicing had paid off. You caught your brother’s eye as he went down the stairs and gave him a confident wink. He had asked out one of the Patil twins, you had heard, and you were very much looking forward to teasing him about it after all was said and done. Your date wasn’t at the bottom of the stairs in the herd like many of the other males, but further back, trying not to bring attention to himself. He stepped forward when you reached the foot of the staircase, maneuvering expertly through the people in his red suit, and held his hand out to you. You took hold of it, making many in the crowd gasp.

“Krum?” You heard your brother and his best friend say in unison.

You gave a teasing little wave to them as you were lead into the Great Hall, which had been transformed into a beautiful ballroom for the occasion. It looked like a winter wonderland in here, and it took your breath away. You were given a grand entrance, where Viktor, Fleur and Harry were also introduced, before taking part in the dance. You couldn’t help but notice that you were also getting looks from Cedric, who was here with Cho Chang, a pretty Ravenclaw.

You ignored all of those looks, focusing on Viktor, and Viktor alone. He remained the stiff, very concentrated man that you had gotten to know through your studies, though once in a while, when no one was looking, he smiled. The dance went off without a hitch, which was amazing considering he had to lift you. That’s the part that you were nervous about, but his strong arms managed to do the task and you felt safe throughout. You did feel a little better once both feet were on the ground.

Once the dance was over, and the band began playing something less traditional and upbeat, you were able to blend more into the crowd. “I get us drinks,” Viktor winked, giving you a thumbs up as he departed from your side for the first time of the night. You felt even more flushed by the wink than you did by the dance, so you leaned back against one of the columns and took a glance to see who had brought whom.

You smiled as you watched Harry and Ron sitting, refusing to dance with their dates. An older Gryffindor had asked Hermione, and the two of them were out on the dance floor. For the first time, it seemed like the school was entirely at peace. Houses with other houses and schools with other schools. You couldn’t help smiling as Hagrid danced with Madame Maxime. Even Dumbledore had a turn on the dance floor.

“May I have a dance?” A familiar voice said from next to you. You turned to look into those honey colored eyes that had made you swoon the year before, but now - now you just felt nothing. And it was great to just feel nothing.

“I don’t think so,” You said, smiling through your rejection. “Viktor will be back any minute with some drinks. I’m absolutely parched.”

“He wouldn’t let you dance with an old friend?” Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow. You saw through what he was doing, unfortunately. Playing the nice guy. You realized that him seeing you with Viktor must really have gotten under his skin.

“I’m sure he would,” You said, demurely. This was like something right out of a book for teenagers. A love triangle - but you weren’t going to let it be that way. That required feelings for the third person, and you no longer had that. Still, you felt like some sort of Queen with all of the attention that you were getting. “But I honestly just want to save every dance for him. He’s a wonderful dancer, must come with being a professional athlete. Did you see him out there?”

“I did,” Cedric conceded. “And I saw how happy you were - so I’m happy for you, y/n.”

“I’d hope so,” You said, spotting Viktor coming forward. You excused yourself from Cedric, and went to meet him, taking the glass of punch from his hands. You noticed that for the first time in the night, he wasn’t looking at you, but was scowling over at Cedric. You had told him about your past with Cedric, and about your brother being Harry. It hadn’t worried him at all that you were close with two of the other contestants, or at least it hadn’t until now. “Thank you,” You said, laying your hand upon his arm as you took a sip from the glass goblet.

“Vhat did he vant?” Viktor asked, pointing his chin towards Cedric, who was still standing by the column, looking at you solemnly. You shook your head as the ugly beast called jealousy made an appearance.

“He wanted to tell me that he’s happy for me, that I’m here with you,” You said, smiling, since it was a truth, though maybe not the whole truth. “And I must say, I share the feeling.”

The stoic look remained on Viktor’s face for a moment more. You didn’t like it. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. You leaned in and pressed a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, and grew excited as it seemed to light up. He was finally smiling once again, and you both turned so your backs were towards your ex. “Vant to dance?” He asked, draining his own cup.

“With you?” You said, leaning in so you could rest his head on his broad shoulder. “All night long.”

#Viktor Krum #Viktor Krum x reader #Viktor Krum oneshot #Harry Potter #Harry Potter oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #viktork #x reader

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miracle-sham · 3 years

Text

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasonetteJuly2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 5 #Jasonette July Fairytales #Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar #SYRWaHtS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

38 notes · View notes

norcumii · 3 years

Text

The Alpha 17 Supplemental

We all deserve something a little nice. So here’s a rough draft preview of the Star to Steer By Alpha 17 supplemental. (Please note, this is unbetaed, subject to change, etc.)

I hope y’all have a good day. <3

~~~~

Alpha 17 was a good soldier. He knew from a very early age that he was good at combat, loved it, and he pushed himself to be the best that the GAR could produce.

He knew some of his brothers thought that made him a bit simple, limited, unambitious.

He didn’t care.

The trainers worried, concerned that he didn’t seem to pick up outside hobbies or interests. He could practically hear ‘there’s more to life than fighting!’ every time he got that look, the doubt screaming in their eyes. He knew that meant another psych eval was in his near future, and it was frustrating because they didn’t get it.

He liked fighting. He liked the simple math, how goal plus obstacle equaled a straightforward picture. He could break that down, take it apart and rearrange the bits for more carnage, less causalities, different outcomes depending on the goal. Some brothers liked painting, or reading, or whatever. Alpha 17 liked taking a battlefield to pieces, and the addition of life’s chaos and unpredictability just made it exciting.

It got worse as he got older, signing up for the ARC program the literal minute he was able to. His batchmates only rolled their eyes a little – they at least didn’t poke at him about it – but everyone else? The whispers just got more annoying.

ARC training was serious business, was he sure he wanted to? ARC training meant learning the ropes for hosting - like that would ever matter - and that didn’t seem to be the kind of thing he’d like. ARC training had a ridiculous wash-out rate, required a steady temperament, often led to a much shorter lifespan, blah blah blah.

ARCs got into the middle of the most interesting shit, were given command and solo missions in equal measure. They didn’t stick to any one thing, historically they were the ones getting shit done, and if there was trouble, they were liable to be at ground zero.

Of course Alpha 17 wanted in on that. So he did something else he was very good at: he kept his head down and worked his shebs off.

Didn’t stop the occasional complaints. He brushed off the ones that he could, went through all the usual psych evals (and the bonus ones too), and kept learning what he could. He trained, he excelled, he fought.

The attitude didn’t stop coming either, but that was no surprise. He might be stubborn, but so was the rest of the GAR. Came with the job description. Not that he took more than he had to, of course. After one instructor complained about excessive casualties, the next exercise he took an absurdly round-about approach which resulted in record low casualties for the sim exercise.

The next day he handed in a complaint against himself about incompetence, excessive caution, and an evaluation about how taking that fucking long would have resulted in a campaign that was far too high in cost, time, and resources.

The instructor quit bitching after that.

Alpha 17 started his ARC training as the youngest in his class. ARC trooper Alpha 17 went into his cryo stint as top graduate of his class, having already had a successful and noteworthy acclimation stint all around the mid- to outer-rim.

*****

Three years after his thaw, Alpha 17 returned from a mission totally-not-exploding some wildly unpleasant slavers’ headquarters to find the usual stack of correspondence waiting for him. He kept his holo-mail down to a screaming minimum as much as possible, because everyone and their classified dog preferred to send secured intel via datapads or datasticks or whatever data-things they could secure to biometrics and ident scans. He grabbed the box for incoming shit and hauled it off to his quarters, because it’d been almost four months away and even he would admit to needing a real godsdamned shower in his own fucking apartment.

He might’ve ignored the pile long enough for a decent meal from the commissary and a few hours of rack time out of sheer spite. When 17 finally sat down to sort it, he wasn’t too surprised that almost a quarter of the pads had the glossy red endcaps indicating highest priority. It took a second glance to register that one of those had further detailing, the Jedi Order’s symbol embossed on the center of the red caps.

That was different. 17 set down the two pads he’d grabbed at random to pick it up instead. The metal shell wasn’t new, but it held few of the dings and scratches any correspondence gained traveling through the courier system. Recently made or rarely used.

“The hell?” he muttered, powering it up. Official Order business of some sort, but what kind of mission could –

17’s brain stalled out as he finally read the simple, clear message.

Simple, clear, and about as unlikely as him sprouting wings and flying to Corellia without a ship. “Potential host.” Nope, sounded even crazier out loud. “Like hell.” He tossed the pad down and slumped back in his chair, staring at the datapad in confusion. How the fuck was he a potential host? What kind of Jedi could he possibly have a match with?

In some kind of vain hope that the message would change to something that made sense given enough time, 17 mechanically went through the rest of his mail. Several innocuous messages regarding hazard pay; five potential missions, two of which had a time window long past; one message rescinding one of the other potential missions; one airworthiness directive and recall about a jetpack model he hated anyways; somehow even more questions about his deposition for the fucking Cato Neimoidia cluster because lawyers were never truly done.

All the usual bullshit, really.

Didn’t change the potential host message, though.

*****

Alpha 17 answered the call, of course. He sent a reply message off, confirmed the trip to Coruscant via the usual GAR channels, and then he tried to lose himself in post-mission paperwork.

It didn’t help that if anything was less likely to occupy his attention, it was paperwork. Even the usual joys of finding new and ridiculous euphemisms for ‘killed a bunch of assholes’ and ‘blew up a lot of shit’ were empty and useless.

The question of what kind of Jedi could possibly consider him a match dogged him all the way to Coruscant, and only got worse when he walked into the changing room with the other two candidates. One was a quiet, well-dressed Zeltron who was the most unassuming being 17 had ever laid eyes on. Short red hair, heading towards middle-age, and 100% unremarkable – he wouldn’t call them “bland,” but he wouldn’t argue the point if someone else did. The other one was an older Wookiee who sauntered in with all the trappings of an AgriCorp member, cheerfully growling observations about everything with an air of nervous excitement.

Sure, he knew the matching was probably on different quadrants, but what the hells could he have in common with these two?

The Jedi deposited on the fourth side of the table was a bit on the small side – maybe fully grown, maybe just younger but with their mature coloring. It was hard to tell with Jedi, even for someone who was good at that kind of thing.

That was not in 17’s skillset.

It was no help whatsoever that the Jedi turned towards 17 first. He felt ridiculous, stretching out his hand like he was inviting someone’s pet to take a whiff, but somehow this was worse than in training. Training meant everyone had to be there, and was going through the motions, but this –

This was the real deal. What the fuck was 17 doing, really applying to be a host?

The Jedi curled around his wrist, warmer than expected. He could feel the faint buzz in his mind of the Jedi’s mental probe – nothing that could be strong enough to read actual thoughts, but enough to give them a decent impression of 17. He had to stifle down a snicker, imagining what it might be like to feel his mind. I like fighting, blowing shit up, and doing my job. Sorry to waste your time, Jedi.

The pulse of amusement – real, and not his – was a bucket of ice down his spine. Shit. Shiiiit, he hoped that hadn’t been somehow broadcast. It probably hadn’t, but that was awkward. Meanwhile, the Jedi let out a quiet hiss, sharing some kind of emotional nudge to pass them along.

It was hard not rubbing at his wrist where the Jedi had been as the other two host-potentials went through the ritual. 17 was sure that some of the discomfort was due to being out of armor, but a quiet part of him wondered about the strange reaction anyways.

Hosting wasn’t a thing. He’d never given the faintest shit about hosting, he just wanted to be an ARC.

He was paying enough attention to do all the bowing and whatever that was called for, but it took the amused chuffing of a Wookiee to pull 17 all the way back to the matter at hand.

Literally at hand; the Jedi was back near his wrist, looking up at him with those four bright eyes and a body posture that might indicate concern.

Wait, WHAT? 17’s head jerked up, and he looked at the other two in the room. The Wookiee was grinning, while the Zeltron was hiding their amusement almost well enough that they just looked a little bored. He couldn’t help but feel that it was intentional that he could read the body language at all. 17 looked back down at the Jedi, who weh-ed at him.

“What are you doing?” 17 asked right back, because there was no way this could be happening. The Jedi scooted a little closer to him, making another hissing noise. With the continued sensation that this could not really be happening, 17 held his hand out to the Jedi.

They sauntered right onto his palm, still giving him that look. Another glance at the other host-potentials confirmed the impossible, but 17 was still slow enough lifting the Jedi that there was plenty of time for someone to declare that this was some ridiculous mistake, or prank, or something.

Nobody said anything as 17 opened his mouth and let the Jedi in. There was that feeling of movement that wasn’t (except it really was), then there was a new voice in 17’s mind.

#Hello there,# the Jedi declared. They sounded male, young, good natured. Not at all like what 17 would have expected. #I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.#

#Well that’s a mouthful,# 17 couldn’t help but think, bemused and not quite sure what the hell was going on.

There was a sound of muffled laughter, accompanied by something not-really-a-flash to how that was a pun given how the Jedi – Kenobi – had just entered. #From a certain perspective, yes.#

17 smirked, enjoying the feel of a fellow sapient in spite of himself. #Alpha 17. ARC-17017.#

*****

It was always easy to tell the difference between Qui-Gon and Tahl. She moved with thoughtful purpose, feet planted solid on the ground and shoulders aggressively square. Jinn flowed more, confident and feline, certain of himself in a sometimes arrogant way that could piss off even the most serene being, let alone Alpha 17.

He liked and respected them both, more than he or Obi-Wan figured most people understood. He hadn’t expected that, when he’d first met the Jedi and host that were to be Obi-Wan’s – and his, in a sense – primary trainers. He’d resented that at first, not that he’d admit it. He was no youngling, for all that Obi-Wan was a shiny. Obi-Wan also had inherited memories, and since 17 was a well-trained and skilled soldier, they should be good to go in short order.

Then they had their first training session with Obi-Wan’s brand new lightsaber.

The less said about that fiasco, the better.

It took time to learn how everything fit together; 17’s blaster and fighting skills, Obi-Wan’s genuine talent for the lightsaber and acrobatics that thanks to the Force were well outside the normal bounds for a clone, and how the Force integrated with it all.

The first time 17 dodged away from a sparring partner only to reach and yank their legs out from under them, dumping them to the floor several meters away, he’d been stunned. It was one thing to know Jedi – and thus their hosts – could use the Force, it was totally another to see it in action, and it was a far different beast to do that impossibility himself.

He liked it, though. It was interesting to find there was a whole new area and styles of fighting he could apply himself to, and as always he did so with excessive diligence.

With the comforting glee inside his head of a Jedi just as eager to learn, and to fight, he no longer questioned why the hell he’d been the one to host Obi-Wan.

~end section

#star wars #our writing #star to steer by #star to steer by 2 #alpha 17 #Hugs #hugs for everyone

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feeling-weirdy · 3 years

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can you write a little something about the first time Wanda cries in front of Vision, maybe she's talking about her brother or her parents, and instead of holding back her tears she lets herself cry for once, and Vision's a little confused but does his best to comfort her <3

“You've been out here for some time,” Vision said, speaking up from behind her. “I just wanted to ensure you were well.” He had been searching for her for some time, having scanned the length of the compound in hopes of finding her. He could read her body language easily, head hung low, body hunched, knees tucked into her chest. it took little effort on his part to read exactly what she was feeling. Dealing with those emotions, however, would be far more challenging.

Wanda’s head barely moved, her eyes focused ahead at the vast forest of trees that hid the compound from the rest of the world. “It’s quiet here. It's one of the few places where I can really clear my head and think.” The compound had been increasingly loud, almost turning into some sort of boot camp as they pushed their new members to train with Miss Romanoff as the head of the class.

It had been...unexpected. He was more than happy to show off what he could do, but the humans that surrounded him seemed hesitant. The worry plastered on their face was obvious as they watched him with uncertain eyes. Vision had done what he could to understand the humans, but they gave him conflicting information.

Wanda however was different. She was distant in another matter completely and didn’t shy away when he came to probe her for further questions.

The synthezoid’s head fell to the side as he watched her. “May I request further information as to the contents of what you’re clearing your mind of?”

“If I talk about it...it kind of ruins the point, don’t you think?” Wanda forced a chuckle, rolling her head to the side as she raised her eyes to meet his from her perch below him. Her glassy eyes reminded her of the frustration and anguish that she showed him upon saving her from the fall of Sokovia, though he sensed it was for a different reason entirely.

Rather than answer, Vision took a seat beside her, curious eyes locked on her as he waited for her to continue. Wanda’s lips pursed, eyes falling to the ground, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she mulled over her response. The breeze filled the silence between them, rustling the trees that surrounded the couple.

“I thought...” Wanda finally continued. “I thought after a little bit of time I’d be able to push through it...I just feel so numb.” Her fingers tightened around her legs, pulling them closer to her body.

“I assume this is in reference to your brother?” Vision questioned, positive he knew the correct answer to that question.

“You’d just think after...spending so much of my life mourning, that I’d be better at this, you know?” Wanda paused, her face contorting as she rested her head along her knees. “I’m just so tired of losing people.”

Tears began to stream down her face, finally allowing herself just to feel all the emotions she had tried to keep bottled up for the past couple of days. She had done well in trying to remain strong, but even Vision could tell that she was getting past her breaking point. The girl had been through a great deal and it was only a matter of time before she fell apart. Humans were not meant to keep those feelings inside of them.

“What’s wrong with me?” She choked the words out, desperate to keep her tears under control. Vision watched as she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, her emotions caught between sadness and whatever was causing her to laugh at herself. Regardless of how often she cleaned her face, the tears kept streaming. “I feel like such a fool.”

“There is nothing wrong with you. You’re allowed to mourn. It’s a process that is only natural to the human species,” Vision’s steady words were in an attempt to soothe her heart, but by the look that crossed her face, it appeared to have the opposite effect.

Wanda scoffed, her eyes scanning him cautiously as she tried to pull herself together. Her mouth opened as if she was about to speak, but the tears kept her from responding.

"I may not know much about your kind as of yet, but I am learning. While it may not be the most obvious, the silver lining will eventually shine through in the darkness."

“Thanks...I think. I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do with that," she chuckled, peeking over at him. She took a deep breath, pushing back her tears one last time as she kept her eyes focused ahead of them. “I’m sorry...I wish I could better help you understand. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never had to go through it before.”

Vision held a hand up, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “My understanding of your pain is far less important than what you are going through.” Reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder, he gave her an encouraging squeeze. Their eyes locked as he tried to comfort her in the only way he knew how. "You're strong. I'm sure you'll figure something out. If not, as I've said before, you are not alone."

Wanda exhaled, motioning back to the building. "I don't know any of these people. I’m not even really sure I wish to know them... " That was certainly a sentiment that the two of them shared, surrounded by strangers that’s sole focus was the vast amount of power the two of them had between them. They had been unintentionally alienated from the group, only having the other to fall back on.

"Me then,” Vision offered. “As I am not a person there is not much to get to know.”

"Vision...I'm sure that's not true,” she interjected, though he did not know why. All he spoke was the truth. He struggled in dealing with understanding these human emotions, but was most certainly not human. Perhaps in dealing with feelings such as these, that was exactly what she needed. Someone to listen, despite understanding.

"Regardless, I am not human and in time, you may find that useful. Humans are special creatures...I find they are constantly able to find strength even when there is none and in their darkest of circumstances.” Vision hesitated, removing his hand from her shoulder. “Give yourself some time."

"I just miss him so much..." Her head fell back against her knee, tears threatening to run over once again. Vision listened as her breathing steadied, her heart rate decreasing slowly as she found a way to push herself forward.

"In time your pain will leave you, but I assure you, your brother will."

Check out my other drabbles here or feel free to request some!

#scarletvision #wandavision #the vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #coming up with clever lines is not something I am good at #rini drabbles #AoU to CW

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okay-victoria · 3 years

Text

Random Personal Rant

For anyone somehow here not from the original thread, this started off me getting asked what finishing school is and me getting shit off my chest that is only mildly relevant about how I could both be of the social class that gets sent to finishing school and grows up on welfare.

With an understanding that in many parts of the world it wouldn't qualify as so, as far as the US goes, my dad is from what counts as a very old money family from Baltimore & Philadelphia. Both his siblings went to college and one now owns a major hedge fund, and his sister is married to a C-level executive at a huge conglomerate. His parents went to college. His grandparents went to college. All eight of his great grandparents went to college. My dad...did not go to college. He was not about that life, and while I don't mean it as an insult, when I say his primary occupation until I was ~5 was a drummer in a mediocre band I mean that he opened for a lot of great acts, and if you lived in the Boston to Atlanta area in the 80s you may have heard him play, but he was never a huge national name. But he wasn't an amateur band playing for free at some random local gig either.

My mom grew up on a chicken farm in a Mennonite family in Pennsylvania but also completely rejected her heritage and became a model, sort of like my father, of mediocre status. Not Giselle Bundchen, but had national contracts and if you have a Graco ad/box from 1990-1993 you might see both me and her on it. They met because my mom's friends placed bets, one each, on who could sleep with a member of their favorite local band first and my mom picked my dad and...my mom was actually supposed to go be a model in Tokyo and found out she was pregnant with me and couldn't go 😂

So, after my parents had two kids back to back with a third on the way and determined they needed lifestyles more in line with having three children, they became much poorer than they originally were because my mom stopped working and my dad, with a barely-passed-high-school education but needing a true "day job" worked day labor in construction. My dad's father was too proud to give us money/help if my dad didn't beg for it; despite having eventually four young children my dad never did so we ended up on all the state assistance programs one could imagine. My grandma jokes that dinners at my parents house were BYOC - bring your own chair, because we didn't own any.

My mother and paternal grandmother had no such pride issues and I live in eternal gratitude that my welfare childhood was not as crappy as it should have been because my grandmother would have my mom accompany her on grocery runs and buy us food without my father or grandfather knowing, and every Christmas and birthday my grandparents/godparents could give us the one big ticket gift all the kids wanted that year. But, on the other side, I once got stung by a bee inside my mouth because my brother threw a hairbrush through a cracked window at me and broke it and we couldn't afford to fix it for about two years and a hornet got in one day and rested himself in my coke can (my parents were the very American type that fed me coca-cola in baby bottles at age 8 when I was jealous of my younger siblings lol).

It is hard not to believe in "toxic masculinity" when two men warring over dumbass pride issues would rather their children/grandchildren go without food than suck it up and decide 'help' isn't the worst word in the English language, and you know you've only been saved by two women who came from totally different backgrounds and entirely disapproved of each other but reached out the hand to shake when it came down to toddlers getting the short end of the don't-bend-the-knee stick. It wasn't that either of the men were bad people, I loved them both and got along great with both, but on a societal level I feel they were socialized in a very fucked up way if that was the end result, as both claimed "male pride" in these instances [my dad took multiple thousands of dollars I'd saved from working during college from me during the 2008-2010 financial crisis and didn't tell me and that was the reason I was given for why I hadn't been informed/asked, because it would be too emotionally difficult for an adult man to ask a young woman. My graduation present was them repaying me 1/3 of the money they'd taken from me without asking because I'd like, trusted them when it had been in a joint account that was a holdover from when I was <18 and couldn't have my own bank account].

While in some ways my parents on the surface achieved the American dream of going from nothing to a bunch of money, the real factor in play was that my dad's father was the bank. My parents had no credit and couldn't get real loans. My dad worked construction and during the two major periods that flipping houses was very lucrative, he never had to get an actual loan or pay actual interest, he just had to ask his father to pay out cash and then repay him at a flat 2% interest rate that didn't even accrue over time, just...whenever you are ready, repay the value of the loan + 2%. Because my father was doing something productive, in these instances, my grandfather was happy to pay, because it wasn't giving away money, it was loaning it. I had a very weird situation of mostly being poor but like also getting taken to the "big donors" events at the Kennedy Center and my grandparents regularly buying me a dress as a child worth more than my mom's wedding dress and also needing to pretend I fit in with these people.

And look. When I say "these people"...honestly, by and large, most wealthy people, whether inherited or not, are not the assholes you want to imagine. Most of them are extremely nice. Most of them are generous when it comes to the less fortunate who are in their personal sphere of being. Most of them are just really out of touch. The 100% kindest of all of them that I know once relayed to me that she thought people would be happier if once a year they did what she did...go to the airport with a purse packed full of absolute necessities, buy a one way ticket to the most appealing destination on the flight board, buy your clothes and book your accommodations after you'd arrived, and come back after you felt you'd 'centered' yourself. She didn't understand why there were so many unhappy people who weren't taking this very obvious route to being happier. I didn't quite know how to explain that saying "most" people couldn't afford to do that either financially or from a job/career angle didn't even cover it, as "most" sounds like 70% instead of 99.7%.

I was both my parents eldest son and eldest daughter in the worst combination possible. I was the eldest son because I was the most stereotypically male of all my siblings, in everything from desire to physically fight the battles I was given to dislike of shopping/fashion to lack of emotional connection to my relationships, so I can now fix your average household plumbing/drywall/electrical issue better than most "city" guys I interact with and remain less clingy to them in the process. I was also very much the oldest daughter from a responsibility perspective, I managed our household and from age 10 - 24 managed the finances of our family business, my mom almost died giving birth to my youngest brother after a ruptured uterus that should never have happened in the first place if we had adequate insurance to get her a non-emergency C-section (I was just past 9 years old at the time) and I was informally withdrawn from school for two years to take care of the family when she couldn't because there is no paid parental leave in the US and we got double-fucked by the medical industry because she got a bad "mesh" put in and then had to have a further surgery to repair that which we also had to pay for and didn't have the money to win a lawsuit over.

I don't know quite how to put this, but in the deepest fuck you of the universe, my rich-immigrant-ggggg grandfather's money led to him owning banks, insurance companies, etc, and the family cashed out in a big way when their ownership was bought by and merged with what is now Cigna, one of the biggest US healthcare insurers, and my nuclear family specifically got screwed by the American health insurance industry, but anyway, we were the people selected for that karmic comeuppance so if you want to feel schadenfreude at my expense, I'll allow it without begrudging the sentiment, my family might have fucked up your family’s life too, not just their own.

I got up twice a night to feed my brother because my dad had to sleep unmolested in my room to get to work and my mom was too weak to carry my brother or even hold him against her while she nursed so I had to hold him up to her. Adjusting to living in a city and hearing lots of random noises all the time was not easy when I'd had mom sound instincts from age 9.

I learned to drive the fall my youngest bro was born because my mom couldn't and I had to get my middle brother to preschool and go the grocery store on my own. While I hold absolutely no ill will towards my father or grandfather for this and given that about 1/3 of my paternal family either has an autism diagnosis or should, I fully feel the struggles they both went through to be communicated with, my father wouldn't ask for help, and my grandmother that lived 20 minutes away couldn't give enough help because my grandfather refused to do a single dish on his own as that was outside their "marriage contract" type agreement and she couldn't ever stay with us overnight when there wasn't a clearly-communicated need, so they let the burden fall on a 9 - 11 year old child and that really shaped a lot of my life in both good and bad ways. My youngest brother is 22, and we have only just climbed out of the medical debt his birth left us with between my dad's life insurance and my oldest brother and I paying for the extra cost of out-of-state college tuition.

The irony of all of this is that because my father died before his father, when my grandmother dies, my siblings and I will all inherit enough money (as a non-blood relative my mom, despite keeping her vows to part at death and not having remarried in eight years, is cut out entirely) to make this a non-issue, but my grandfather couldn't conscience spotting his unluckiest child some money in the end of days to pay for my youngest two brothers' education and take that worry off my father as he was dying. The day before he died I had to hold him down in bed to keep him from trying to climb in his truck to go to work because he was so anxious about trying to provide for us in spite of his father having fuck you money, because his father didn't think it was fair to the other siblings (who, at the time, still owned a major hedge fund and were married to a C-level executive of a huge conglomerate). A day and a half later I went back to my job because at the time I was then the sole provider for the family and didn't want to risk asking for the standard week's bereavement leave when I knew I was capable of showing up at work the next day and was fresh out of college so hadn't built up a reputation yet.

My father worked the day each of us was born, so I suppose it is only fair and he smiled at the choice. In spite of what it may seem, I gave a baller and very heartfelt speech at his funeral to all his rich friends that over and above everything, he'd taught us how to be happy with our own lives no matter what, and multiple of them emailed my mom in the aftermath to say they'd reassessed their relationship with their children in light of it, although...tbh I kind of doubt that lasted and they probably changed nothing 😅. The last good talk I had with him, two weeks before he died [his liver was going and it sent toxins to his brain that de-personed him after that and he no longer recognized me as his daughter, but as his sister], I reassured him that though we would all be sad he'd gone, we'd live on just fine without him because that's how he'd raised us, and according to my mom that was what gave him the final bit of peace he needed. Although honestly, I don't think I will ever see the strength in another human again that it took my grandmother to sit next to him and stroke his hand and tell him to close his eyes and imagine he was happy on a beach and die, for God's sake, because he was unaware and in pain and just prolonging it for our sake by then.

That type of obsession my grandfather had with assessing his children and grandchildren on the basis of economic productivity and a very black and white idea of "fair" is one you don't easily forget, I promise you. My hedge fund uncle is currently positioning himself to screw us out of our inheritance because of janky writing in the will and I'm doing my fuck all best to gain the wherewithal to go toe-to-toe with this cold motherfucker in court as the oldest and representative member of my happily much nicer and softer younger brothers who I want to remain that way not because I even care that much about the money, I know what bills affect your credit first and what you can put off paying and all of us have good enough career prospects to do our own thing, but just because I want to give the middle finger to a man that was a multi-millionaire and drew lines on his milk and orange juice bottles when I came over so he knew if I drank what my parents couldn't afford when I was approximately six. Anyway, ask me why I support major reforms in wealth taxation. I don't care who it goes to, just not that guy, you feel?

Having expendable income was very exciting for a bit after I started working but once I got to the hateable point of assessing my annual bonus and internally complaining that I'd spent the money I should have spent on a Sauternes cellar to drop five digits on bedset materials (to be fair they are drop dead gorgeous, very comfy and the factory pays a living wage for people to handmake the sheets/duvets/pillows to people in San Francisco, which is not cheap, so maybe I did more good than harm with that), I two seconds later nodded to myself and went "the government needs to confiscate more money from me". The narrative is always that the "undeserving" will use it for dumb things they don't need like iPhones or refrigerators...?...but like...I could also have gone to Bed Bath and Beyond and bought a very nice sheet/comforter set for at most a tenth of what I paid so am I really spending it responsibly either....?....who is going to get more joy out of this misspent money....?....not me, that is for sure, I probably would have had more fun going to BBB and laying on all the demo beds and buying something there.

My lifelong dream, which may become possible if/when I do have something of an inheritance, is to provide food security for one of the many towns in the US were most residents don't have it. It's the thing I remember the most distinctly over the years. I never could quite believe it when I got to the point that I could just...pay to eat at a restaurant. One of the most disappointed my mother has ever been in me is when I was twenty five and confessed I actually had no idea how much a gallon of milk cost in a city grocery store besides that it was probably between $1 and $5, because I didn't have to know. For now I make a weekly drop off of my excess produce to a mom group I met under somewhat weird circumstances but I was walking through the cut-through that went through the low-income housing back to my apartment at like 2 AM on a Saturday and these moms were out there partying and smoking weed with their kids all strapped in strollers around or the older ones watched by a rotating member of the group and I felt very safe and like these moms had a very good vibe of both living their own lives [seriously for mental health parents but in most cases specifically mothers need to be able to keep up relationships with people their age] but keeping their children safe and accounted for while doing so and trying their fuckin' best against all the odds to figure out how to make that happen when life had dealt them a shit hand.

...anyway, looping way back to the original question of what finishing school is, when I was almost done with middle school my dad had built a legit construction business that then very quickly took off because we lived in a commutable zip code to the now-rich-in-their-own-right people he went to high school with who trusted him to redo their homes. We eventually moved to that zip code but I stayed and commuted back to my old high school. But, i was a pretty wild kid which my father appreciated for a long while because I would follow him around on jobs and enjoy doing physical labor, but once I was mid-puberty and also he had to maybe show me to his high school friends that did not fly.

I snapped - not broke, snapped - my left thumb and my parents had to trap me like a wild animal to get me to go the hospital. Then I got a deep cut that partially injured a tendon in my leg and at eleven I tried to beat the shit out of my dad to prevent him from picking me up to strap me in the car and go to the hopsital. Next I got a deep splinter due to my eternal-barefoot tendencies and it wouldn't come out so got infected and I refused to go to the doctor [another weird back story but I was minorly sexually assaulted [[to be clear, not raped or anything big traumatic]] when I was eight and had to stay in hospital for a week and my parents couldn't be with me all the time so I have a permanent heebie-jeebie about going to the hospital, not true anxiety, I will go if I know I need to and I don't breathe heavy or anything, and I'm actually not permanently weirded out by sex or anything, just doctors in hospitals specifically I kind of unconsciously try to justify not needing to the extent I can rationalize it] and my dad was tired of my antics so he was like "fine if you don't go I will slice your foot in half with a Swiss Army knife to get it out" and I called his bluff and laid down on the floor, stuck my foot on his lap, and he didn't really know what to do when a barely fourteen year old girl called his bluff so my brothers watched in fascinated but horrified awe as I got my foot sliced open spectacularly so that the infection/splinter could come out and I didn't even make a sound out of spite despite it being quite painful to my recollection almost twenty years later.

They saw me cry from pain exactly one time when while trying to break up a fight between all three of them (it was over ice cream) I got pushed and my ankle got dislocated and what actually made me cry was snapping it back in place and they realized it was not a joke. These dumb assholes that I love have ragged on me for "skipping" chores the day after I was in the hospital because the day before that I had to spend 18 hours running Thanksgiving as a good sub-hostess like I didn't have a serious infection that needed treating and couldn't rest because none of them were up to any task beyond peeling potatoes.

After the Swiss Army knife incident, my dad's discussion of sending me to finishing school became real, which I knew when my mom made me take a walk with her and talked about it. Finishing school is like...etiquette school....? In ye olden day when finishing high school was not the norm for anyone, wealthy men finished high school and wealthy women often went to "finishing" school to have a combined education on being a proper lady but also being able to hold a decent conversation with your presumably-educated husband, so it wasn't entirely etiquette non-academic. It was more just like "what a rich man wants in a wife" school, which was sort of household management and knowing enough about cleaning/cooking to correct the staff if they fucked up, how to be a polite hostess, and how to not entirely bore him when you were alone together and had done your five minutes of sex or whatever so actually had to have a conversation. In modern times it has obviously expanded to be less bleak.

I said miss me with that, I can be a girl on my own, so I went full throttle into the girliest sport they offer in high school and ever since have gained the inestimable advantage of knowing how to also use femininity to my advantage, which I am very grateful to my parents for making me learn. It would be great if we lived in a world where that didn't count, but it did/still does, and they really set me up to operate in all the worlds.

It is weird for me to tell the story to Internet strangers because it's one of those things that makes your parents sound terrible and abusive in the general tone of the Internet nowadays, and while I support gender nonconforming children I don't remember my childhood or parents that way. But, I feel like the bits and pieces of my life I've given don't always make a ton of sense together without the context, so here it is, and in the end, I think a number of parts of it are areas where you can probably understand where it makes me have the opinions I do when I write.

Anyhoo, this makes my life sound far worse than it is, I actually have a great life and I am not unhappy with it at all and feel I was on the whole blessed with many more turns of luck than unluck, so, please, do not take this as a depressed artist rant, it is more like a rant of a very energetic person who rants about a lot of things all the time and didn’t need to come out but just did because the question was asked and the time was right with my life being in a bit of flux to think about how I got where I am and where I want to go and why.

Always remember no matter what problems it seems like I have, if I didn’t solve them on my 2 year round the world traveling hiatus I took from working, it’s my own fault, I definitely had the time and money to solve them and just chose not to.

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meichenxi · 3 years

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Hi!! I'm a college student about to graduate and my dream is to teach English in China and I was wondering if you could somehow help me and give me some advice. I have been studying Chinese during my years at university (and I love your blog!), along with my physics degree. I don't know if any of this is relevant but my level of Mandarin is not very high (HSK3), I study in the UK and I'm planning to get a TEFL 120 hour certification in June. Is this a solid plan? Love your blog, Isa

Hiii! Sorry it took me so long to get to this, I have my final exams at the moment and am on semi-hiatus. First, what an amazing dream!! You'll have a wonderful time :D

SO in general having a degree not in English language and a TEFL certificate is most definitely enough to secure you a job, but at the moment it is a rather 'special period', as every job advert says, and so finding a job is a little trickier because of visa problems.

Basically, there are no work or study visas available at the moment for people from the UK. The only people who can get into China are those who the Chinese Embassy deems 'foreign experts' and therefore 'crucial to China's progress', and your company or school will have to provide something called a PU letter. This grants you the ability to actually apply for the work visa, though itself doesn't grant it. At the moment there aren't that many companies available who can offer that.

Because of this, I'd recommend going through a recruitment company. I do not necessarily mean a graduate scheme (the ones advertised as such are not very well paid and you don't have much control over where you go), but a recruitment company. You can find these on any general site if you google 'ESL jobs China'.

In terms of actual jobs - generally speaking there are three categories, private language schools, state schools, and international schools. International schools are by far the best in terms of packages, but they rarely take graduates without 3 years of teaching experience. The good news is that if you do find somebody who is looking for recent grads (if you go to a particularly prestigious university like Oxbridge, for instance), you might be able to teach Physics or Science rather than English language. International schools will also be the easiest to deal with in terms of communication and visa applications, but the competition is quite stiff, and most people who apply will be teachers in their home countries already.

State schools are another good option if you want 'normal' teaching hours, good holidays, and older children. The position I have next year is in a good state school that has two programs, the Canadian curriculum and the GaoKao (the Chinese university entrance exam). The main disadvantage is that you may be the only foreigner in the school, and communication might be difficult. I don't just mean with Chinese but in general: you will be not told things, you will be excluded, you will turn up to your class and find someone else teaching it and be told just to go back to your office. If you can be flexible and have an open mind, state schools are great, but they may be quite exhausting especially if this is your first time in China. You will also have to teach to exams, and the curriculum might be tight. For me personally though, I would much rather teach in a state school than the next option -

Which is private language schools. These are very good - sometimes. This is the main problem: the quality of the schools, the teaching, and the ethos all vary from school to school. You may be teaching very young children, and you may be teaching exclusively in the evening. The schools may be very supportive of creativity in the classroom, or you may be literally forced to teach the flashcards they give you. The plus about these schools is that they often have competitive relocation packages, are not too bothered about how experienced (or not) you are, and that there will be a community of other English speaking colleagues (natives and not) to help you integrate.

The reason I add this is that it's so, so important. It's very laudable and easy to wish for immersion and want to make Chinese friends - and you should!! - but living in another country without easy access to internet you are used to can be exhausting at times and even the staunchest believer in immersion is going to be stressed and tired and teary far from home. Having colleagues who want to improve their English can also be a good basis for a (somewhat awkward at first) friendship.

Some general tips: brush up on your English grammar. Seriously. Because the amount of teachers who have no idea and bluff their way through it is shocking and disrespects those who try very hard to make it a proper profession. Also having students ask you when you use the present perfect continuous and the present perfect simple and not knowing the answer is a very special kind of pain!! I'd recommend bringing a reputable grammar book with you, and using it when making your lesson plans.

Re Chinese: if you already have a little, your Chinese will improve so much when you're there!! Don't stress about it because China is a wonderful environment for learning - it's literally perfect, few people speak English and EVERYBODY wants to speak to you as many people are direct and very curious - but at the same time, the more you can learn, the easier it will be. Don't neglect your characters!! Learning useful menu characters and signs will be hugely helpful too. You won't need Chinese in your job really, but you definitely will in your daily life, so well done for learning and keep at it!!

The other thing I would say is: sort out your music and your social media and your banking before going to China. This includes a good VPN. You can't download apps on the google App Store, and to make the transition to the Chinese internet easier, I'd recommend getting a Weibo account, any music app, Baidu translate and maps and so on, and accustoming yourself to that before going.

Re where you are going and the package: you should have your flight paid, help with your visa, and transparency about quarantine procedures. You should also have accommodation or an accommodation allowance of between 2000-5000 (2000 is more than fine). Public or international schools may pay for your food during school-time as well. Re cities: prioritise what is important to you. If you want to save, bear in mind that China is extraordinarily cheap and that even in places like Shanghai, you can still save a lot if you live somewhat sensibly. To give you some context: I lived in Tianjin, a second-tier city, and I got 'pocket money' of 2000 every month (with accommodation and food paid), and I managed to save enough to do martial arts for a month at an academy after 5 months. And I was living well - going out about twice a week, taking taxis, eating out almost every evening (cheap food). So don't prioritise one position over another solely because of money, and also bear in mind kindergarten teachers may only be getting about 2000-3000 a month - so regardless of whether you earn 10,000 or 15,000, it's a) SIGNIFICANTLY enough to live very well and save very well too, and b) considerably more than many of your coworkers will be earning.

Also, different cities have different costs of living: 10,000 somewhere like Hangzhou will go considerably further than 16,000 in Shanghai. Another thing to bear in mind is the air quality, and the environment, and the access to green spaces. DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE THIS. If this is important to you, go somewhere smaller or in the south with access to nature - I nearly went crazy living in such a big city with such poor air quality. The positions I had to choose between were one in Shanghai, better paid and at a better school, and a position in Zhuhai in a campus in the mountains, in a third-tier city by the sea. I know now how important green is to me, how much I prefer a more relaxed pace of life, and so I chose the latter.

Lastly, don't be intimidating and don't be afraid to ask questions about your job. Make sure that everything they say is in the contract, in both the English version and the Chinese version. This is important because only the Chinese version is legal, so if you have a friend, get them to check that the same stuff is in each bit of the contract. Communication might be difficult, but don't be afraid to be direct and press for answers, don't just accept what you're told. You might be messed around with a bit, so it's important to 'shop around' for positions - don't feel bad if you do so, and don't be afraid to turn things down that don't suit. Finally, don't feel terrified if you can't find information about a school online - a lot of stuff isn't on Google, and will also be better accessed via WeChat or mini programs. Not finding information about your school or city does not mean it doesn't exist!!

So be prepared for a wild ride - and enjoy! If you have any more questions about any of this, please feel free to ask at any time!

meichenxi out :P

#advice #esl #teaching esl #askies #esl in china

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unweavinglies · 4 years

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Gonta Gokuhara Character Analysis: When a Genius is Treated like a Child

So a quick disclaimer: Yes, I am very aware that this is most likely not canon, or at least not what the writers intended on being canon, nor am I saying that this is 100% canon and should be considered as such. This is just a fan theory/analysis I came up with for my own enjoyment and wanted to share with others, as I like coming up with theories/analysis posts and reworking canons to make enhanced stories and character development in my perspective. I firmly believe that the idea of making theories isn’t supposed to be a shouting contest to see which opinion is the most loud and correct, but should be something to share with others and find acceptance and understanding in different interpretations, even if you don’t agree with them.

Well, this has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?

I’ve been talking about wanting to do this analysis for months now to various friends and acquaintances, but I’ve only had the motivation to do as such recently, after writing a short story that dived deeper into Gonta’s mindset over the Mercy Killing Plot he and Kokichi attempted to carry out. Regardless of that, however, Gonta has been one of my favorite characters for quite some time, and I really feel like his character arc and the unfortunate tragedy behind the unintentional mistreatment of Gonta via his classmates.

So without further adieu, let’s talk about that--about what happens when a genius is treated like a child.

Warning, this does discuss some rather unfortunate topics, such as ableism, depression/self loathing, and the concept of mercy killing. Viewer discretion is advised.

The first thing we need to elaborate on, is why I am calling Gonta a “genius.” Gonta has shown difficulty in understanding simple concepts, and struggles to follow along complicated plots, such as we see in his Salmon Mode Event where he mentions that he cannot follow the plot of high fantasy stories because they tend to be so complicated. He even refers to himself as not very smart, tragically enough.

However, not is all what it seems for Gonta, as his intellect is a matter of fact, and not just an analysis, and the game’s introduction of him opens up this fact to the player in a round about way that may or may not be so subtle.

Gonta admits here that he was a wild child, lost in the forest for ten years. While the logistics are... questionable, this is a work of fiction, thus I will suspend some disbelief. Gonta being lost in the forest for ten years means that he was probably about 5-8 years old when he was lost, depending on how old he is in the game.

Touching upon this briefly, studies of wild children, specifically referencing this case here, have an extremely hard time readjusting and learning to human language, customs, and interaction. The younger a child is upon becoming a wild child and the longer they are in the wild, the less likely they will be able to learn language and certain social behaviors and skills. While it is not impossible, the likelihood of Gonta being 15 or 16 in the game is very low, and even impossible once I elaborate, and we can safely assume that with the context of him being a wild child, he is probably at least 17 years old. So a safe assumption is that Gonta was lost in the forest when he was about 7.

(Note: I am very well aware of Gonta’s potential forest family not being wolves, and instead the reptites, but these creatures Gonta speaks of very well be his own imagination spiking from the isolation from humanity, or be something else entirely. Gonta makes several references to video game characters as well, claiming he met them in real life, so I consider it highly unlikely that “reptites” are an exception to this. Either way, it won’t matter if you believe otherwise, just that it may change certain aspects of what I’m about to say in regarding education and the sort.)

What’s the point of this elaboration? Well, quite a lot, once you remember that Gonta is the Ultimate Entomologist.

Firstly, there is the fact that Gonta is a high school student at all. Gonta was lost at a very young age--it would be impossible for him to be, since not only had he spent 10 years int he wild, but he also had to rejoin human society, relearn human language and customs, and then be put back into formal education. If Gonta is still a teenager and not over 21, then Gonta would have to cram in a decade’s worth of formal education into a few months, or a few years, at most.

This makes Gonta a literal prodigy.

Had Gonta not been isolated from humanity for a decade, Gonta would have been a child prodigy, a literal genius with an intellect that couldn’t be so easily matched. Having the capacity to learn advance mathematics, language (although in the English version, he is struggling with speak (speaking with the infamous “caveman” speech pattern) scientific methods, all of it within such a short amount of time proves that Gonta is, without a shred of doubt, a genius.

Even if you take the aforementioned reptites into account, it only makes Gonta’s accomplishments slightly less impressive, depending on your interpretation of what the reptites actually are. This is because Gonta still had to engage with formal education, and even in the best case scenario where the reptites were fully advanced beings with a civilization and education (which I quite doubt, if they were, then why not give Gonta back to the human race when he was still a child? Why not guide him back to his kind? Why keep him? Even if they were afraid of humanity, it would be far, far worse for the humans to find them while looking for their lost son... I digress.) Gonta still had to learn Japan’s education. Their history, their language, their social customs--and then, Gonta had to learn how to be an entomologist.

You need to go to college to be an entomologist.

According to this website here, the basic, bare bones higher education one needs in order to apply for certain positions related to entomology is a bachelor’s degree, with most positions and places requiring a doctoral decree. There are, of course, youth clubs for students under eighteen, but from my understanding, in order to be considered an entomologist, you need a college degree.

Gonta is a high school student.

For him to be considered an Ultimate Entomologist, Gonta would have to have taken college courses and gotten some kind of degree in order to be recognized as such. Thus, Gonta is still learning a higher education within a short period of time that is incredible for any human being his age, whether it be as drastic as him having no sort of education while living in the wild, or living with the reptites.

Either way, it is safe to say that Gonta is very intelligent, whether or not he is potentially a prodigy for it.

However, this has very unfortunate implications of the way Gonta is treated by his peers in the game.

Not only does Tsumugi here reenforce that idea in everyone else’s mind...

She blatantly tells Gonta that he was being manipulated and or “tricked” into abducting everyone...

When, in actuality, not only did Gonta know exactly what he was doing:

Kokichi even elaborated on his plans quite explicitly to Gonta:

And earlier on, the rest of the class had been treating him differently than they treat one another, sort of like he was a young child they needed to guide.

For example;

Kirumi assumes Gonta is not very aware that hitting someone with such an object is dangerous... despite him being a peer to his classmates and a young man.

And when Gonta has a pretty valid concern;

He is instructed against it and/or ignored on the subject:

Even Kaede slips up a little;

And during the investigation...

Himiko is 100% convinced here that Gonta is the culprit, to the point where she is trying to trick him with this kind of phrasing.

“Are you not, not the culprit?” equates to “Are you the culprit?”

“Are you not, not, not the culprit?” equates to... I believe it would be “Are you not the culprit?”

And that’s the thing:

Like how even I was confused and unsure about the triple ‘nots’ of Himiko’s statement, Gonta is too. Very reasonably so, actually--it’s extremely awkward phrasing purposefully meant to manipulate Gonta into saying he’s the culprit of Rantaro’s murder, and it takes Kaito and Himiko to realize that it was them causing the problem when Kaede called them out on such.

And again, after Gonta explains his actions during the murder, he gets very frustrated;

Already, we are seeing the effects piling up, leading to a frustrated, angry outburst.

And by far, one of the worst examples of this sort of unintentional ableism is this:

And Himiko even just... flat out does this:

By “dumbing down” the explanation of right and left, and not noticing that Gonta is left handed, she caused him to accidentally switch the wires on the headset, causing the memory error and making this entire trial all the more worse for him. By treating him like a child, like the theme of this trial, she only made things worse for him.

And that’s the problem.

Despite Gonta trying to tell everyone that he has no idea what they’re even talking about, everyone just assumes he “can’t understand the Virtual World” and brushes him off. Again and again, Gonta was treated like a child and brushed off, and this time, it came with a heavy consequence.

These instances of “guiding” Gonta are subtle, and on their own, aren’t much to address as anything more than suggestions or words of caution. However, there is a very clear theme of “we have to tell Gonta what he should do” that starts in Chapter 1 and continues on until the end of Chapter 4. They’re unintentionally telling him that Gonta needs to be guided and needs to be reminded of pretty obvious and basic knowledge, and worst of all, that he can’t be trusted to think for himself and thus needs someone to tell him how to think and feel.

If it was one or two times, that would be a whole other story. However, these instances pile up, higher and higher throughout the entire span of Gonta’s time in the Killing Game, and the majority of the class ends up dismissing or ignoring Gonta’s concerns.

This sparks a growing desire to prove himself, to prove that he can be useful during the trials. To prove to his peers that he can do something on his own, think for himself, decide for himself, except even until his final moments;

Even after Gonta’s Alter Ego telling himself and everyone explicitly that he was not tricked into killing Miu...

... No one listens.

Instead of listening to Gonta, over and over, they continue to brush him off and treat him like a child they had to care for, and yet no one stopped to consider that Gonta is a young man. An intelligent, young man who’s socially awkward, but never the less, a peer to them. Yet they didn’t treat him like a peer, and in the end...

Gonta died thinking he was an idiot. A child. A burden who made everything worse for everyone else. They all considered him as a child, and that’s how they saw him even in his final moments.

Gonta throughout the game constantly tries to prove himself, but no one is paying attention. When he learned of the Secret of the Outside World, Gonta didn’t even have anyone else to turn to for help or comfort. His feelings of uselessness compounded by the desperation to prove himself as an equal to everyone else drove him to agreeing to mercy kill the rest of the group... because how else was a stupid, burden of a child supposed to help anyone as he was? Even though he knew killing was wrong, with Kokichi’s plan, he was able to do something “for everyone,” and even that compounded into the ultimate failure.

It’s an unfortunate reality, because had the class treated him as a fellow classmate and peer, this might have been preventable.

Either way, what do you think? Was discussing the unintentional class ableism in depth towards Gonta a bit... too much? I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever done such a post, so you’ll have to forgive me. It’s also been quite a while since I made a proper analysis, hasn’t it? I must be a little rusty...

I will say--please, do not use this post for any discourse regarding the ableism and what have you if you choose to agree with this interpretation. I will not stand for it.

Either way, I hope you at least found this post to be food for thought. See you all next time.

#gonta gokuhara #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa #analysis #theory #character analysis #ableism mention tw #self hatred mention tw

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

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the lighthouse | jjk

⇢ pairing: reader x jungkook

⇢ genre: one shot, fluff (what's new), strangers to "lovers", mutual pining, so much sap you're gonna have to shower after reading this, ANGST, jungkook is a literary scholar (?) of sorts

⇢ word count: 12k

⇢ warnings: as stated before, it's Cheesy with a capital C, lots of introspection, brief mentions of death, explicit language, mommy issues, (((major plot twist)))

⇢ summary: you and jungkook had one thing in common: you were both lost souls stagnant in the search of some fulfillment. the one of many differences was that your story had been written on your sleeves, while jungkook’s was a story needed to be unriddled. was this going to be another disappointing chapter in the book of unattainable desires or could your encounter with the mysterious man who lived in the lighthouse lead to something much more?

a/n: i'm super proud of how this turned out even though it ripped my heart out of my chest... this was probably my favorite fic to write and ahh im so happy to release it!!!! i hope you lovely little angels enjoy!! :) <3

What makes us human? This question posed by your philosophy teacher had been stalking your thoughts hours after class had ended. As the rain padded against your umbrella, you piled in a few answers to this question.

What makes us human? A question that would seemingly have a clear cut answer, but when you got down to it, there was no distinct characteristic that differentiates humans from other animals. It was easy to say something such as how we have complex linguistics or industrialized civilization, but that is to discredit how the packs of wolves howl to each other, the birds sing from tree to tree, the beavers diligently construct their dams, or the dirt cities in which ants build their own societies not much different than humans.

You pondered the idea that we love so deeply, even when it is often unreturned, but there is no denying the way a mother bear strikes down any and all enemies to protect her baby cub is anything other than true love.

So, what makes us human? You sat on a bench placed on the sidelines where you could witness small scenes of the lives of passing strangers. This sonder might be what makes us human. The knowledge that each person lives and loves and cries and fears and speaks and dies in ways with which you will never begin to familiarize. Life continues on around you despite how unimportant it may seem to the rest.

Does a lion waste any moment of his time wondering how the deer had found its way to the shallow pond, whilst preparing to strike? Of course not.

You watched a couple clinging onto each other and wondered where they met. You then were captured in the peace of an old woman prodding around in the grass with her golden retriever; perhaps it was her last companion. Then, your eyes drifted towards the two boys pushing each other over but with the gentleness one could only assume that was out of friendship or perhaps brotherhood.

And then you saw him.

Gentle fingers tracing the stacks of magazines lined in a perfect column; an arm that disappeared into the sleeve of his dark, wool coat. A tweed newsboy hat sheltering his eyes, and deep chestnut Oxford shoes stepping lightly, nearing a tiptoe, between the cracks of each cement plate, weathered by the infinite other shoes that tread on those very grounds. A body so magnetizing and moving as if it were a secret, and you couldn’t imagine why no one else had been ingested by the enigma that is this man. You longed for him to reveal these secrets that hid underneath his hat and coat, though if he wouldn’t, which he most likely wouldn’t, you had no problem with seeking them out yourself.

In a city filled with young souls draped in modern streetwear, jeans, bright colors, and converse or Dr. Martens or perhaps high heels, catching this needle in the haystack plugged into every synapse of wonderment. The muted tones of his clothing gleamed the brightest out of the sea of strangers.

This is what made you human. Your desire to know everything that lies barely beyond your wingspan. Everything you could hold was close to nothing in meaning, and everything your arms could not reach was always all you could ever want. The rise of your legs, the way you replicated his every movement, running your fingers along the stack of magazines, fastidious prancing in the spaces between the cracks, and your subtle pursuit of the man just out of reach was what made you human.

Bodies bustling through your path failed to untether you from this chase. It felt far beyond your power to stop yourself from the rising excitement and allure in your chest that pulled you towards him. The man was quick and swift to dodge oncoming bystanders, however your eyes became a missile fixed on a target.

The unexpected turn he took had you floundering for you had been trapped behind an older lady and a couple walking side by side. Sadly, your memorization of the streets and landmarks had been admisal, so you found yourself in uncharted territory. Each road sign and corner store had been displayed like a foreign language, and you mentally cursed yourself for letting your silly lust for learning what shouldn’t be learned lead you into this difficult position.

You stood defeated, the man had evaded your fragile trail behind him with ease. You lost him, or maybe he got away.

It was still midday, prompting you to make an end of this means. Your eyes discovered the coast set along the edge of the town, and though this was the furthest you had ever gone, you dared to go further. This mishap of yours granted you the opportunity to introduce yourself to the shore, and the waves have always delighted your interest. So, you found it just to walk down to the sand. The sound of the water pressing into the wet sand was calming; it was something you could find yourself getting used to. Luck presented itself kindly, giving you a moment unencumbered by the rain that had ceased not long after you stepped foot on the beach.

You took this time to be with yourself and sort out all the problems that have been worrying your mind these past few weeks. Your best friend, Chaeyoung, had an upcoming birthday that had snuck up on you before you had the chance to even think about getting her a card, let alone a gift or celebration. And you would be disappointed with yourself if you failed to outdo last year’s efforts. There was also the test in your Chemistry class scheduled only a day after her birthday, curtailing your plans of staying out late because there was no way you would allow for anything less than your very most on this exam. Then, there was the essay on what makes us human that you denied any chance of regaining priority to your list of worries, knowing it would gnaw at your mind until you forcibly shut it out.

And the man that willed you to seek him out, and that wore the title of his stories as if he intentionally wished to spark your wonder to learn them.

That should have been the last of your worries. It should have been.

The day began to fade into a warm, orange dusk. Skies once gloomy and grey now covered in blankets of clouds reflecting the sun’s gentle rays and you found yourself reunited with the calming feeling similar to when you first stepped on the beach.

Not long after registering how far you had traveled along the shore, you noticed a quaint lighthouse with a house-like structure at the base. The off-white stones cemented up until a red paneled roof covered it, tempting you to know what lies behind those walls.

It looked like it was about to rain again.

Are lighthouses closed off from the public?

There’s a house, there must be someone inside that could help me find my way home.

All these comments to yourself made to premise the conclusion of entrance into this lighthouse. As you approached the door, framed in oak lining and painted red, the clouds appeared heavy once again. A few drops of condensation was enough persuasion that what was about to be done was for the good of your well being. You pushed it open and a creak echoed around the room inside.

The walls were covered with stone bricks and there was one table in the center of the room. Other than that, this house was barren and if it weren’t for the second door that you guessed led to the lighthouse you would have called a car to take you home.

Your walk was pensive and mouse-like; there was some quality about this structure that made you feel like you weren’t alone and sudden movements would disrupt an established peace. Your hand turned the cold, gold-plated handle and pulled open the door, soon being met with a warm gust of air that engulfed you into the lighthouse.

This part of the building was exponentially more decorated than the room that preceded it. A staircase cemented into the sides of the lighthouse plastered with shelves upon shelves of books spiraled along the cylindrical walls, paired with dull lanterns that illuminated each level of railing had you drawn into its magnificence.

You stared up to what looked like a platform that held a place in which one would rest and look out into the ocean. There was no one in sight, and you assumed permission to climb up the staircase. Your eyes scanned each spine, creased and slightly warped from the moisture of the air, like they had been read over and over again. Your breath became heavy and your stare was focused on the books to ignore the dizziness settling in.

Reaching the top of the staircase came as a blessing, your lungs were close to catching fire. There were two armchairs, side by side, one fashioned a knitted blanket and the other was used as a table for five to seven or so novels, and the walls behind buried in high stacks of more books. There had to be at least seventy in the first half of piles you accounted for, and before you had the chance to snoop around the rest of the room you heard a voice coated with alarm behind you.

“What are you doing in here?” Your breath halted as you turned around, about to explain why you had let yourself into this building, however no amount of words could fully justify this invasive act.

You recognized the wool coat and the tweed hat now resting in his hand instead of on his head. His eyes were shrouded in a youthful innocence despite his attire that implied he was a sophisticate of some sort.

“Are you going to answer me or do I have to call the police?” The boom of his voice was chilling, sending shivers along your neck and chest.

“Sorry, I’m-” How could you possibly defend your intrusion without sounding juvenile or absolutely insane? “I was… It was raining and I just was walking on the beach so-”

“So, you decided breaking and entering was better than getting a little wet?” His barbed responses hurdled how you plaintively stuttered around excuses. Despite his efforts to seem menacing, you couldn't let go of his boyish facial features. It was absolutely astonishing to you that someone who looked young enough to attend your own college and handsome enough to garner quite a bit of attention had anything to do with this dingy, aged lighthouse.

“No, I was going to come in here to ask for directions. I’m lost.” The pitiful temperament of this comment was not intentional, but the man who now stood in front of you felt itched by it. He couldn't ignore how your legs trembled, partly from the cold but also because of his raised voice directed at you, and how that admittedly aroused some guilt.

“It’s fine. Just-” He sighed deeply, placing his hat on the side table adjacent to the left armchair, “You can just wait here until the rain stops. Though, I have to say it looks unrelenting at the moment.” The man’s attention was captured by how the heavy rain seemed to wage war against the raging tides. You caught a glimpse of a smile. The slightest upturn of the corner of his lips almost compelling you to reveal you had spotted him in the town earlier today, and that you found yourself enamoured with his every movement, and he was ironically the reason you were stuck here.

“Are you sure? I can go, I shouldn't have been here in the first place.” The words escaped from your mouth quickly as if they were trying to race each other to be spoken.

“No, I said it’s fine.” The suddenness of this offer hushed you. He then removed his wool coat, unveiling the clothes he wore beneath it. The burgundy crew neck sweater layered tastefully over a collared shirt was just as old fashioned as every other article of clothing he sported. How intriguing.

“I'm sorry.” Your muscles grew sore from suppressing how aggressively you would have been shaking from the cold. “Thank you.” Him granting you shelter gave you motive to keep the umbrella that would suffice to protect you from the rain under wraps. The option he presented was far more favorable.

“Sit down. Please, use this blanket.” He gestured towards the throw draped over the right armchair. His eyes avoided you as much as he could manage though you had this glow emulating from your wanting eyes and soft looking skin that crept to the corner of his vision too brightly to ignore. Consequently, this comment soothed both your body and mind for he unguarded a kindness that was hidden when he first spoke to you.

“My name is ___.” He was facing the window that displayed the sea, now thrashing and falling into itself, and without moving his head, his eyes drifted towards you.

“I know who you are.”

“Wh- How?” Maybe accepting an invite in a secluded lighthouse on the beach wasn’t the safest thing you could be doing on a Friday afternoon. Anxiety pioneered a place in your breathing, turning it rushed and choked.

Before your mind could theorize all the ways in which you could make an escape from this room or how quickly you could use your hidden umbrella as a weapon he said, “I noticed you following me in the town’s square earlier today.” You sighed, releasing the terror that pricked your lungs. If anything, it was he who should be afraid of you.

“I’m not a stalker!” That weak defense was all you could push from your throat before any well constructed explanations could be put forth.

His laugh, along with his cryptic gaze towards the waves, made you feel even worse about your actions.

“You were just so stunning and I wanted to know what kind of person still wears a newsboy hat without trying to make a statement.” Your lower lip tucked between your teeth stopped the nervous laugh about to spill and expressed worry that the more you tried to explain yourself, the more this man believed you should be charged for stalking not to mention trespassing.

“Stunning?”

“I mean, like, someone I’d want to meet.”

“What were you planning on doing once I stopped somewhere, or noticed you?” He questioned you only because he relished how you were scrambling to a proper defense. He knew you weren’t any threat to him, not many people were, however he enjoyed your chatter more than the silence that would have taken its place.

“I don't know, maybe just… introduce myself?” This sheepish, yet honest, reply had you drowning in humiliation, while the man before you seemed as if he were floating effortlessly along the surface.

“I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” Relief replaced the worry that he would turn you away, leaving you to the hands of the storm outside. The fact that any other person would have done so led you to believe Jungkook held a lot more compassion than he let on. You held your hand to greet him, finding it only polite to execute this formality. His, however, remained folded behind his back, notably denting your ego as you retracted your hand quicker than you extended it.

“Okay.” You muttered to yourself in slight embarrassment from this trivial rejection. “So, do you live here or something?” Your question was first replied to with a breath of annoyance. Jungkook was kind enough to allow you a sanctuary from the rain, exemption from the intrusion and stalking, and now he found himself having to entertain you.

“Yeah, something like that.” All this disinterested answer did was persist your attempts to break his catatonic gaze. However, his reserve had been solidified steadily over the years, so this venture was going to be tough.

“I didn’t know you could live in a lighthouse?” Your inquiry was spoken with the hopes this would ignite a lasting conversation.

“It’s not a lighthouse, technically.” Jungkook’s affirmative tone flew right over your head, conjuring even more annoyance that oddly enticed him to continue responding to your dense questions.

“Well, it looks like a lighthouse. It’s shaped like a lighthouse. It’s on the beach, just like a lighthouse.” A chuckle joined the sigh of his breath and his head that shook at your shallow observations. Jungkook eventually turned around and made his way towards the stacks of books, trying to preoccupy himself from whatever this exchange was. “All signs point to this being a lighthouse.”

“Well, it’s not. Lighthouses are meant to send signals to the ships out at sea. This doesn't,” His curt response tickled your amusement, only encouraging you to further aggravate him. “Therefore, not a lighthouse.”

“Okay,” You sounded agreeable, but this was soon followed by a doubtful comment whispered just loud enough for Jungkook’s ear to catch it, “It’s a lighthouse.” He found his stoicism melting away due to your spiteful attitude and conniving giggle in the face of his frustration. You wanted to get a rise out of him, and he knew this, and you were doing a fine job at it.

“It’s not-” His voice elevated with excitement, but he soon tamed the defensiveness threatening to spill from his lips, “Do you want to go back out into the rain?”

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” Though, you sounded all but remorseful. The sly smirk resting on your face matched Jungkook’s satisfied expression, despite these smiles surfacing for different reasons. You couldn’t deny how humorous it was to distemper this man. How all the worries you laid out like the pebbles and seashells on this beach were washed away by the tides. Meanwhile, his grin provided little contribution in masking his enjoyment of your company and relentless curiosity.

You now sat in the right armchair, bundled in the blanket. It was not necessarily a thick blanket, but the chills once disturbing you had dwindled almost immediately. You were still entranced by Jungkook's movements. His hands were now occupied with a book from one of the stacks he’d been eyeing; the way he cradled the book like it was a newborn baby further revealed he had a somewhat protective attitude towards them.

“What are you reading?” His eyes remained between the pages and lines of the book, but his focus was yet again thieved by your incessant curiosity. Jungkook thought it irritating similarly to how one would find a cat disrupting their owner from work, annoying yet ever so endearing, and adorably distracting.

“I’m not reading, I’m being bothered by you.” His snark was meant to damage your brazen pestering, but unknown to him it merely fueled it.

“Boohoo.” No matter how elementary that retort was, you still managed to fever him and hold hostage his attention.

“I’m reading The Odyssey.” Jungkook surrendered to you, placing the book on his lap that was now sitting in the armchair next to yours. “Why do you ask so many questions?” His eyes laid on you the same way they laid on the sea, filled to the brim with fascination.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading.” Even when he expressed a clear indication that he was past your nonsense, it went unnoticed like the particles of dust flitting around the darkened room. This oblivion of yours prompted your next question. “Could you read it to me?”

His eyebrows furrowed at this request. Jungkook had already found himself exhausted by your persistence, and predicted ‘no’ would not be accepted as a viable answer. He just sighed and began to read aloud.

His soft voice somehow drowned out the sea’s commotion. The words flowed off his tongue as if he wrote the book himself; such poise for a young man lured you to immerse yourself in his narration and time grew more and more abstract.

After a bit, Jungkook paused to examine how you'd received his reading and he was pleased to find your chin resting in your palm and your eyes and ears fixed onto him as if he were reading the gospel. This made it difficult, impossible, to deny entry for the subtle blush working its way on his cheeks.

“Are you satisfied?” He closed the book, peering out of the window to check if the weather had eased since you arrived. Though the intensity of the storm hadn’t lightened in the slightest, there was a new tranquility adopted by the drizzling sky waters that sank and fed into the waves.

“Never.” You replied with a hungered conviction twisted into your words, “What happens next?”

Jungkook laughed in shock of how eager you were to hear more of this story. It was unlike someone who wasn’t well versed in literature to genuinely enjoy listening to this archaic novel.

“Why are you laughing? Read more!” Your whine came off a bit childlike, but succeeded in its goal.

“It’s getting late.” He commented with a gentle sternness, though he proceeded to reopen the book. Your peculiar attention naturally drew him to oblige your desires. Even in the midst of a storm, even as the hours slipped by and the evening had been born, he continued to read.

You settled back into your chair in rejoice that you’d get to spend a bit more time with Jungkook. He was practically a stranger, and still there was a climate of comfort and intimacy that took the place of the crisp, winter air when he read from his book. He felt it too, and that was reason enough to allow you this company.

Throughout the chapter he had been working to finish, he snuck glances to find your eyes growing heavy with sleep as each page turned. Jungkook halted from reading and was trapped in the flush of your cheeks and lips and how your mouth hung slightly ajar as you inhaled the cold, wet air of the lighthouse. The puffs of breath that billowed from your lips had him yearning to know a warmth so full with life and curiosity.

“Are-” Jungkook tensed at the idea of disturbing your sleep, as if you hadn’t barged into his life without a hint of permission. “Are you asleep?”

Your head lifted slowly, then held stiff to maintain consciousness, “I was just resting my eyes. I’m not tired, I want you to read more.” You said this in spite of knowing you would drift asleep if he did.

“I think we are done reading for now.” The book closed for the last time, his hands pressing against the cover to seal his assurance. “You should head home.”

“But, I don’t know how the book ends.” This weak argument came from a place of jaded desperation. Regardless, he almost fell victim to your subdued urgency but any sensibility he could garner warned him not to allow this. You were quite obviously tired and he prefered you be safe in your own bed before the night advanced.

“Well, that’s because I only just started this book and it is very, very long.” Jungkook hoped this would usher you out even if that meant the return of loneliness would seep between the pillows of the right armchair after you left him with his solitude.

“Well, I won’t be able to get these questions out of my mind unless I finish the book.” Another weak argument drained from your inventory of excuses. Maybe a change of subject would present an opportunity to linger in his company. “Also, why do you live here all alone?”

“I just do. I feel like I don’t have to explain this to you.” Jungkook was bewildered at his admission to give you, an unannounced and uninvited visitor, any explanations and still he was close to doing exactly that. “You’re quite invested in my personal life.” As much as that was true, his withdrawal from your curiosity wasn't all that effortful. Living in secrecy and desolation had the feeling of companionship nearly vanishing from his memory and you reunited him with that warmth. And, he had not realized how it had nearly been forgotten or how much he missed it until he finally felt it again.

“You seem like someone who has better things to attend to.” The lament that stained his words bore such heartache that was soon displaced in your chest.

“No, no. My life is boring, and I don’t know. What person wouldn’t be interested in the personal life of a hermit who lives in a lighthouse?” You stood and paced around the platform towering over the swirling bookshelves below, towering over what felt like the entire world with Jungkook. The end of the blanket trailed your footstep as your drooping eyes skimmed the multicolored novels which were remarkably arranged alphabetically by author. How he had the time or patience to organize the hundreds of books he owned was beyond your comprehension. Every detail you acquired from Jungkook was stored in a compartment of your heart, almost as if it were assigned by fate. They were told in riddles and secrets and everything else meant to be deciphered.

“Not a hermit, and not a lighthouse. I couldn’t imagine someone like you being bored with your life.” His voice had become welcoming, with a hint of genuine interest, and this transition felt imminent ever since you first introduced yourself. The tilt of your head signified your agreement with his last statement and implied there was something that bothered you about this truth.

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you. Curious, young with your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to believe you should be bored with that.”

“You say that as if you aren't the same age as me.” Jungkook shrugged lazily and scuffed his shoes against the rug as he now stood against the window sill, observing your interest of his books.

“I shouldn’t be a lot of things, and yet I am all those things. Bored, curious, and I’m here talking to a complete stranger that totally has the capability to murder me like in those movies instead of going back home.” Your comment that snuck out had wrested a soft chuckle from Jungkook. They were absentmindedly thrown into the air that filled the space between you and him, nurturing his reciprocated fascination with you. Your diligent grazing of each book had distracted how the weight of your eyelids heavied by the minute.

“It’s not like I don’t have great people in my life or a quality education that takes up most of my time, I just,” Your brief pause was to turn your attention over to Jungkook, who did not hide how he was listening intently to these confessions, alleviating from a place in need of emptying. His eyebrow was arched in a manner that jolted you back to your senses. You’d revealed one too many privacies to someone who you had been acquainted with only hours ago. Mortification would have bathed your body if not for the way Jungkook seemed to strongly engage with your openness.

“You just?” He staged his interest overtly to correct the imbalance of how your genuinity left you hanging lower than him on the emotional scale. Jungkook believed that was the least he could do to mitigate the embarrassment about to silence you.

“Uh, I just never seem to be satisfied with what I have. And that makes me seem like a greedy, spoiled child which makes me even more frustrated with myself.” You admitted, pulling the blanket over your shoulders tighter as if that would shield you from the compromising guilt slithering out of your body. “And that’s how I see myself. Ungrateful and spoiled.” This certainly scraped the barrel of your deep rooted disgust with yourself.

“Not spoiled, just lost.” His response felt like a soft and thoughtful embrace, granted that this was meant to ease the tinge of reproach in your heart. The words he spoke caressed your cheeks and told you that every horrid thing you thought of yourself was flawed.

“I’ve certainly been in your position.” He euphemized what he really wanted to say to you, that he saw himself in you. Even though you spoke very little on this, he felt himself living every experience you alluded to as if he had been right beside you your whole life. Or rather that you had witnessed his life and suffered identical desires and grievances and adversities and were simply retelling his story down to the most intricate detail; and somehow you made it sound brand new and a thousand times more aching. He was stranded in a state of amazement, ambushed by your pain and how even in moments of emotional destitution, you were unquestionably beautiful.

Likewise, this stranger, who was no longer estranged, and his kind words nearly compensated for the billions of people you could never meet, all the dreams you wanted but could never alter into incarnation, and all the disappointments that plagued your heart.

And you felt held by his words, his voice, him.

“You’ve been in my position?” You requested confirmation.

“I was. Certainly.” And he confirmed.

“Where are you now?” In turn, you wanted this to suggest, ‘where can I find you?’

This question carried profound sentiment on both the giving and receiving end of it. To you, this yearned for advice. Any piece of wisdom would gladly, gratefully be accepted to ease this rampage of constant dissatisfaction. To him, it resurfaced a series of speculations long undisturbed until you had asked this question; a place intentionally void of all attention because it was sometimes too grim to remember. A haze of difficulty crowded a definite answer, though he knew there was one. He couldn’t place his finger on a fitting response and found himself next to you in search of the answer.

Where are you now?

This haunted his mind for a bit, leaving him speechless and albeit impressed, for once, by your curiosity.

“It’s hard to say. Somewhere in between, I suppose.” Whatever meaning this carried did not resonate as sound to you. The mere idea of being on the end of perpetual longing, waiting for a clear path to the end that promised fulfillment, made it implausible to settle on being somewhere in between the two. Again, you were left unsatisfied and feeling a burden placing itself on your shoulders and wallowing a fit of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. Jungkook noticed how your eyes fell from his, down to the maroon accents of the rug, and felt out of place. Out of place, in his own lighthouse, all because your gaze and attention he’d grown used to in this short time wasn’t directed at him.

“That’s the kind of ambiguity that leaves me so hungry.” He nodded in agreeance with the twisted cruelty of his response you had pointed out. Jungkook didn’t know how or why he’d come to turn every corner and check each crevasse to find what could settle your appetite. This whole time, though, he sailed through this painstaking search without a trace of uncertainty. His illusion of disinterest and annoyance soon dissolved into the floor that your eyes hadn’t strayed from.

“Maybe if I lived in a quaint, not-lighthouse I would be satisfied with that answer, but I don’t. I live a normal, normal, normal life.” The repetition of your words stressed your fatigue of this dullness, your desire for everything just inches away from your fingertips.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a normal life. I think it’s wrong that we have put the idea of drama and excitement on a pedestal.” This outlook, unlike the last, did gain traction in stripping the thick ambiguity around Jungkook’s mind. To your surprise, you could be satisfied with the small pieces of this man’s mystery being chipped bit by bit.

He was well aware of his deep rooted appreciation that accompanied your eyes as it moved towards him once again. There was some sense of purposefulness in this glance that demoted his callousness to tender captivation.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“I have a hard time believing you only have one more question.” His doubtfulness didn’t seem to discourage you, or him.

“For real! Only one more, it’s important.” The only way to prove whether or not this question was truly important was for you to ask it. His head nodded his approval.

“What do you think makes us human?” Before he could answer, a swell of perplexity had overtaken his thoughts on this. You could tell, out of everyone, Jungkook would have a profound answer that could save you hours of contemplation over your philosophy essay’s prompt.

“That’s an interesting question.”

“An interesting question in need of an answer.” You prodded him for his response, though this was pointless if there was no response that could possibly be constructed. Not a response of reason that you seemed to require, but of feeling. Like an instinct, and that in itself made it inapplicable to this question.

“Ask me again some other time. I don’t know if the answer is that simple.”

But, of course, it was. The answer, in his eyes, was blindingly clear.

“I’ll hold you to that!” He gladly took accountability for that commitment. An unfamiliar contentment with the unknown had lodged in your chest when the promise of spending time together emerged through the once conditional circumstances. The promise that transformed those conditional circumstances to voluntary acts.

This humbling discovery left a wide grin on your face, beaming directly towards Jungkook.

Jungkook peered over to the antique clock placed on a shelf next to the window. The aversion of his eyes was to save face from how your soft smile that projected praise and attachment had effectively unnerved him; he stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide his fingers that twitched out of pure elation.

The hour hand stationed on the twelve carved in roman numerals verified how his company had erased any discern for the hours that passed. They had floated away so silently, slowly that you could have sworn time froze altogether.

“Oh shit, it’s midnight? Fuck me.” The decibels of your voice boomed against the walls, it could have shaken the stacks of books down to a pile of mess. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t even realize it was so late.” You unraveled yourself from the blanket and collected your belongings in a bit of a frenzy.

“It’s alright. I, um, I had a nice time.” He distanced himself from you swiftly as you dashed across the room to the edge of the stairs. Even in a hurried state, you still looked back to him and offered a smile, unsure if that was enough to suffice for a proper gesture of gratitude.

“Me too.” The words were close to inaudible, but you knew he heard them loud and clear, along with the string of implications that were laced in them.

“Oh and by the way, make good use of that umbrella. It looks like it could start raining again.” Your ears felt engorged with flames when he’d revealed his knowledge of your little secret. It was foolish of you to believe you could outsmart Jungkook because what you thought obscure was well within his range of astuteness and the umbrella, still damp from the rain, was apparent from the beginning.

You didn’t catch how he’d been smiling when you turned away bashfully, strutting down the stairs in an attempt to portray false confidence. But if you did, you would have picked up on his mutual indulgence in your visit, the absolute bliss laden in his eyes. You grasped tightly to the joy evoked from the thought of seeing him again, however your nerves held a tighter grasp that did not allow you to express this to him. Perhaps your giggles of excitement, surely heard by Jungkook, spilling from your throat as you rushed out the empty room or the way you clutched your umbrella to your chest in admittance you had purposefully kept that fact from him would give Jungkook a clue of how thankful you were to meet him. And even more so to be able to see him again.

As you parted from the lighthouse that was not a lighthouse, something in between, you felt that the comfort you once had taper off with the growing distance from the not-lighthouse. You were fraught with a gentle yearning to turn back, run up the spiraling stairs, settle yourself back into the right armchair, and ask humbly to stay a while longer.

Little did you know, Jungkook’s hopes coincided with yours like two concentric circles.

(One week later)

If it wasn’t the question left unanswered that motivated you, it was the fact that you missed the view of the beach from the window. Or maybe it was the countless supply of book titles that you didn’t get to finish inspecting. Perhaps it was that you missed how the soft blanket complimented the feathery cushion of the right armchair.

Any of these excuses could be suited to explain how you rushed through the town, determined, goal-oriented and passing down streets now ingrained in your memory, with a destination clear in mind.

But it definitely couldn't be how dearly you missed the sound of his voice when he read to you or his smile or the way he studied the waves with gentle affection. No, it couldn't be that.

Either way, you arrived at the base of the lighthouse. It had been a week since your first visit and you hoped that the invitation still stood for your return. Making your way through the empty room felt quick since you hadn't wasted time to notice how the table now had a vase of flowers in the center. Nor did you notice the new mat placed in front of the interior doorway to the lighthouse.

Your heart dropped from your chest when you reached over to the door knob only to find it was locked. You turned the handle back and forth as if that would miraculously function as a key to unlock the door. After a bit of knob fiddling had proven itself useless, you turned away with a huff of air releasing your frustration.

The click and turn of the handle had you twirling around optimistically and seeing him made all that disappointment dissolve.

“You’re back again.” He was smiling at you, then cocked his head to say come in. The moment you stepped into the lighthouse, its lackluster disappeared as if by magic. But Jungkook knew it wasn’t magic at all; it was the person that hid their umbrella, and asked him to read and promised to return as much as he promised to let you return.

“I believe you promised to keep reading to me.”

“Did I?” The reasons for your return weren’t all that important to discuss, both you and him were just glad to make your way up the stairs to the two armchairs once more, hearts both racing not because of the physical exertion from the stairs but from the excitement rasping through yours and his bodies.

“Yes, but this time I won’t fall asleep.”

“We’ll see about that.” There was no question that your intense focus wasn’t because you cared about the book he had been reading. In all honesty, you would not be able to summarize any bit of the plot if someone asked. You probably would have a hard time even naming the author of the book because what sank you into the words on the pages wasn’t the story itself, but the voice that read them. Jungkook made those languid paragraphs sound like the first words ever to be spoken; he reinvented the English language through his unique dialect, inflections and phrasing that had the words of Homer dancing off the pages. So, of course there was no question that you wouldn’t be able to name any of the characters or recognize the writing style of Homer because those details faded away, leaving only the memory of his voice with you.

This time, Jungkook didn’t have to offer you a seat. He made it clear that this spot had been reserved and waiting for you by the way the blanket had been folded and worn by the arm of the chair and the new pillow resting at the base of the chair’s backrest. You planted yourself on the cushion that felt more plump than the last time you sat in it and faced towards the large window that showcased the ocean’s energetic swaying.

“I would never get tired of this view.” You commented while Jungkook pulled back the curtains further to widen the seascape. He too was drawn to the deep blue waters making their way to and from the shore.

“I usually don’t leave the windows this open, but my love for the scenery of the ocean has rekindled.” When he said this, your eyes hadn’t budged from the window unlike Jungkook’s that peered over to you. You pretended not to notice that or the way your heartbeat had taken a quickness that had your skin growing warmer.

“How could it leave in the first place?”

“It is well known, especially by you, that having an abundance of something lessens your appreciation for it.” A corner of your lips lifted at this, knowing exactly what he had been referring to. Each wave passed by and in a comatose-like state, you wondered where on the shore it would land.

“No need to call me out already, Jungkook.” He had left the window and retrieved The Odyssey that hadn’t left the side table since the night he read it to you. This broke your trance, and you shifted to face the left armchair.

“You made it too easy, ___.”

“Okay, Hermit.” Your smile did wonders to ease the irritation in Jungkook’s chest to tenderness. Though he refused to admit it, this otherwise taunting nickname sounded affectionate coming from you.

“Technically a hermit is-”

“Technically, I don’t care about your technicalities. No amount of facts will persuade me that you aren’t a Hermit.” Jungkook dug his tongue into the side of his cheek to resist from joining in with your laughter. He’d been fidgeting with the book that was waiting to be read, but neither of you seemed to mind putting that off.

“Ho- How was your day?” You shouldn’t have felt as proud as you did for making a man who could read aloud for hours stutter over his own words, and nonetheless you were extremely flattered by this.

“It was good.” Good never really meant good, and Jungkook knew this.

“And what’s the truth?” Your playing field had once again been unleveled, the advantage returned into the palm of Jungkook’s hand in the blink of an eye. His perceptiveness had been bordering on annoying but still remained on the side of impressive.

“Well,” You bunched the blanket in your fists as an expression of worry, “My mom called today.” Anyone who could hear would be able to tell you sounded unhappy about that.

“Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jungkook articulated his question to get the answer he’d been looking for, finding the hostility in your voice far more interesting than the actual conversation between you and your mom.

“You don’t know my mom, but she projects her over achieving personality onto almost everyone she meets, but most of it goes onto me.” Your back had straightened when mentioning your mom, almost as if it were a reflex, like Pavlov’s dog, that you were conditioned to be on guard at the thought of her. “I don’t know why I get so mad at her when she does that because I know it comes from a place of love.”

Jungkook hummed softly, granting you space to continue talking.

“Yeah, it probably comes from a place of love but part of me doesn’t believe that. Part of me thinks every time she calls to check on me it’s really just a ploy for her to nag me on what I could be doing better.” You scoffed as the conversation from earlier in the morning played out in your head again. Envisioning the back and forth between you and your mother only fueled your frustration but you couldn’t help yourself. There was no stifling the seething anger imploding before Jungkook’s eyes. “She always says stuff like, ‘Maybe if you applied yourself more you would be doing better than this.’ or ‘I told you that you should have done this or that and now it’s too late’ or the infamous ‘Do you not care about your future?’ lecture that just gets under my skin. She’s so good at saying the wrong things at the wrong time. I don’t know how she does it but she always manages to rub dirt in the wound.”

“So, she’s never satisfied with you?” Jungkook observed.

“No, never! And you’d think a mother would be supportive or happy with all the things her child had already accomplished but somehow it’s never enough. And she knows what she’s doing. That makes it worse. She knows how she weaponizes my guilt against me.” You held your tongue from the much longer rant about to digress, feeling a sudden discomfort in the way you’d been complaining to Jungkook. You couldn’t understand why it was all too easy to talk of these kinds of things to him, why he looked so interested in what you were saying even when anyone else would have grown tired of you by now, why you found in him a warm confidant much more comforting than you’d expected, yet there was no way to dismiss this reality.

Jungkook did not offer advice, or tell you that you should be thankful or that maybe you were handling these situations poorly. He did none of that. His silence was more thoughtful than any number of things he could have said. He simply listened.

You rose from the chair to get a closer view of the sea. Past your reflection in the glass, the consecutive tides seemed to grapple over the next and the next; the previous wave always just short of reach to tackle the immediate wave. He had followed you without a word, living up to your desire to have him at your side. There was no need for mindless comments or condolences to fill the silence, only mindful amity, at your side, because watching the ocean with you was enough.

“So, that was my day.” It was the first thing spoken after a period of quiet, perfectly timed and delivered for it to bear a dry humor in its intention. Jungkook and you laughed, finding this the long needed release of tension in your head.

“Is this going to become a habitual thing?”

“What’s that?”

“Me complaining to you about my personal struggles that would have gone in my journal or somewhere far more private than this.” All said while your and Jungkook’s gazes didn’t wander from the view of the window. “Me inviting myself into your lighthouse, or not-lighthouse, whatever.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Two heads turned towards each other almost as if it were on que.

The way your pupils dilated and softened conveyed every bit of thanks you held in your heart but couldn’t muster the courage to voice. Jungkook’s doe-eyed smile thanked you likewise and confessed the gratitude for how you had rescued him from yet another lonesome afternoon with a curtained window, an unused blanket, an empty chair, and a melancholic silence as he read his one of thousands of books. Not including The Odyssey, that was for your ears only.

“You wouldn’t?”

“Maybe a little.” His tease succeeded to provoke that smile of yours. And even though that was a favor on his end, he was the one that felt graced by it. Realistically, a smile costs nothing yet there grew an enormous debt in his heart; and even though he couldn’t afford it, all he could do was bask in every detail your smile, of the crease of your eyes, and of the way your cheeks took the form of a sweet Spring Peach, and the scrunch of your nose and brows. Before he sank himself deeper in debt, Jungkook beckoned for the two of you to return to your seats and read all your worries away.

---

Who would have guessed that The Odyssey, of all things, would be the thing that would occupy most of your Fridays through the rest of the winter? Sometimes you visited a Sunday, and other times you’d find yourself needing to hear The Odyssey on a Wednesday evening or a Monday morning. The days on which you swung by the now familiar lighthouse would vary, but they remained a weekly occurrence.

Jungkook had grown comfortable with this routine, reading to you while you watched him and the waves, but mostly him. Occasionally, his reading would cease to an interruption of his own doing to ask how your day was in a very specific way that only Jungkook seemed to exhibit. He’d ask you say anything but ‘good’ or ‘boring’ and he’d clarify that he wanted you to not leave out any details.

“Why?” You would ask. And he’d look at you as if you set yourself on fire.

“It’s important to me.” He’d reply as if it were that simple, or the answer you were looking for. Still, if it was important to him you didn’t need any more persuading.

Like when you told him you stopped by a coffee shop, he’d tell you to specify which drink you ordered and how it tasted.

“Cinnamon.”

“Is that your favorite?”

“No, I prefer peppermint but sometimes I combine those flavors and that becomes my other favorite.”

“That sounds sweet.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Does that make you happy?”

“It makes my insides feel like Christmas.”

“Is Christmas a feeling?”

“It is to me!” He smiled at your childlike enthusiasm because it made life seem a lot more appealing than he’d ever believed. Before you, the world was a little greyer. After you, suddenly full of vibrance, saturated to the grandest extents.

Or the time you brought a candle to fill the air with something a bit more pleasant than the smell of the old, wet stones of the lighthouse.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a candle, vanilla and patchouli.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don’t remember. I just found it in my house and thought this place needed something sweet.”

“But you’re here.” Your teeth bit down on your tongue when he said this. You almost fallen trapped in figuring out what motivated him to say this, but the flattery of his comment was all too pleasing to ignore.

“But I don’t smell like vanilla and patchouli.” You said, only to save face from the fact that you suddenly felt like a deer in headlights when he looked at you, bracing for when he would crash into you and hoping to god you can absorb the exhilaration of souls colliding; and hoping to god he would crash into you.

“Could you light it, then?”

“Of course.”

And the room filled with a sweetness that complimented your company finely. Now, whenever he would smell the scents of vanilla and patchouli he would think of you, and you of him.

He would continue asking these simple questions, and so on.

Why he thought it was essential for you to relay these almost invaluable intricacies was beyond you, but it did make you feel heard; it made you feel held as it always did. It made the value of your life gone without the need to be earned or proven, the value of the smaller moments that fell between bigger moments.

It made it all okay that you felt like you stripped the clothes from your whole life off for him to revere and that he’d rarely ever display such emotional nudity for you; you were okay with lying bare before his eyes, vulnerable and pliant to his every whim. Even when you wanted to know all of these things about Jungkook and he’d hold them captive or he’d only offer half sufficient answers, you collected as many bits of the puzzle as possible to try and piece together his story.

“How are your parents, Jungkook?”

“Long gone.”

“Oh, Jungkook… I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I watched them grow old and content and that softened the blow.”

“Are you lonely?”

Yes, it’s excruciating when you are not here. I am tormented in your absence and all too plagued with despondency and I wish you knew that.

“I’ve grown used to it.”

“So you have.”

“So I have.”

You did not want him to be lonely; you didn’t want him to ever be sad but you wanted him to be able to say that he was to you. You wanted him to be able to tell you he was lonely; you wanted him to want you to know his heart. You wanted him to feel as naked as you felt. Vagueness was all you could ever manage to arrest from his gated mind.

And for once, the little he had given was more than you could ever ask for.

Sunday mornings with Jungkook were your favorite. The ocean was tame during this time on Sundays specifically and sailed you into its calmness; you were half asleep, resting on the sill running along the base of the window panes. Spring had been approaching which meant there were radiant glimmers of the early sun that reflected and glided along the ripples of the waves. Jungkook once said that every time he looked at these little pieces of diamond rays, he believed the sun and the sea performed in devotion for you and him alone.

“I love that.” And indeed you did. The idea that no one else witnessed this ocean, not this one, not the way you and Jungkook had, was a greedy disposition but felt so true.

“Would you like me to read?” He said in place of, Is my voice properly fitting for something as lovely as this moment?

“I want you to talk, but not of books.” You blinked slowly at Jungkook, “Could you tell me about yourself? Just one thing, anything you choose.” He saw those specks of diamonds glimmering in your irises. He felt so close to you, sitting on the other end of the window, and close enough to finally surrender a bit of his gated mind.

“When I was a child, I knew my days were numbered. The details of why aren’t important, but I digress.” You stuffed a scoff down your throat at the assertion that the details weren’t important. Him, of all people, claiming the details were unimportant had you whirling in a paradox. “With this in mind, I did my best to fulfill everything any child would have wanted. And I don’t think I’ve ever stopped because that list of desires was never ending.”

Was this what he meant when he said he was in my position once? You wondered.

“I spent all my time looking for the next best thing I could achieve, because the best things that I had was, as you know, never enough. One week, the best thing would be finding a four leaf clover to give to my mother. The next, it was being the first in line for the new, long awaited comic book. Or, it was the time my father took me fishing on the lake, and then seconds after it was the first fish I caught and threw back into the water, and that best thing was soon replaced by my father’s proud smile.”

Your throat tightened as you visualized a young Jungkook sitting on the dock with his father, full of youth and excitement, and how nostalgia had ripened into your heart even though you had no place in this memory of his. This dream-like sequence had compelled a few tears to fill your eyes, fogging your vision of the older Jungkook that sat before you.

“When I grew older, in my adolescent and teenage years, the next best thing was fulfilling a newfound passion. It prompted me to buy out almost the entire library and major in World Literature. I spent the rest of my days from then on immersed in reading, as you can see. It was the only place I felt like I was achieving the next best thing, and it was cruel when I came to realize there was no way in hell I could finish all the books I’d collected in time.”

“In time for what?”

“In time... for the next best thing to come along, I guess.” This answer appeared fabricated, but was subtle enough to pass through your mind without a second thought.

“And did it? Did it come along?”

It would have made no difference if your question had been asked to a brick wall because Jungkook brushed it off as he did every other question that would have given you another piece of his puzzle. He took precautions to avoid a defeat to your pouting by walking over to the left armchair and burying his face in the book’s fortitude. Before you had the chance to reiterate your question, Jungkook began to read, making it all too clear he was evading.

“Jungkook?” You whined to which he paid no mind by continuing to read.

“Is he being serious right now?” Again, you might as well have been talking to an inanimate object. There was nothing to be done when he lodged his restraint other than joining him in your armchair, quietly, permissively.

Every day, like this one, spent with him had you convinced it couldn’t be surpassed in enjoyment. And every day, your expectations had been exceeded. That was something you’d never think could happen. Soon, the cares and worries of this Winter melted as the avenue of Spring had unfolded before you. A long path, surrounded with flower blossoms and diamond coated seas, or in other words, the unfathomable had fallen into your hands.

The remainder of this pleasant Sunday had been consumed by The Odyssey and Jungkook’s voice singing its words as smoothly as the waves surrounding the lighthouse and small conversations during the pauses of his reading. One struck you into reminiscence of the first night you met.

“You never answered my question.” He paused, flipping through the many unanswered questions he’d left with you. Jungkook raised his brow to order specification of which one you referred to.

“What makes us human?” The due date of your essay passed over two months ago, however this didn’t diminish your curiosity to know his answer.

“In all honesty,” He paused and looked to assure you would believe his answer would be honest, or honest enough to cater your satisfaction. “I think it’s our desire to achieve the last best thing.”

Every fiber in you compiled its own list of questions in regards to his yet again ambiguous answer, though you had grown to accept that as a part of Jungkook. And you sure as hell accepted Jungkook, ambiguity and all.

“Hm.” It didn’t take a mind reader to know you had theorized any and all connotations branching off from his answer and he didn’t mind that you could be lost in search of whatever the actual meaning of it was.

The moon was in its fullest bloom tonight, and tomorrow, it would begin to wane into a crescent then into nothing but an empty space full of new and perhaps fortunate opportunities. Jungkook found the romance of this lunar phase well equipped for the dusty instrument he discovered in the base of the lighthouse.

“I found something that I think you’d like.” Your ears perked like a dog when it’d been presented with treats. “But you have to go get it. It’s in the other room.”

Whatever this surprise was, it had excited you enough to ignore how you’d have to descend and re-ascend the many stairs that would surely tire you. Your eager legs would have jumped right from the platform to the bottom of the lighthouse if the reality didn’t result in broken bones. As you rushed to the door to the other room, you pushed through and discovered a telescope standing in the corner of the otherwise empty space. A few moments later you were hustling back up the stairs, the telescope making the re-ascension of the stairs ten times as strenuous. All the while, Jungkook just stared in amusement at the way you struggled your way to the platform.

“No, I don’t want any help, thank you!” You said sarcastically through grunts of exertion before positioning the instrument in front of the window.

“Well, I didn’t offer you any, so, you’re very welcome.” He stood on the other side of the telescope, admiring the way you fell so easily in love with it, hands scaling the length of the scope.

“Do I just?” You pointed to the eyepiece at the end of the rod and he nodded. You brought your eye to the magnifying glass which was flooded with the enchanting glow of the stars. You’d never seen them this close, but this little gift of Jungkook’s had catapulted you into the illuminated abyss of the night sky. A measly woah was all that squeaked from your voice, because all the other words were stolen by the stars.

“Can you find any constellations?” He’d seen all the stars in the galaxy; that he was sure of. But none had shone brighter than the person he couldn’t tear his eyes from. Three o’clock had crept onto the antique clock, this late hour had worn down Jungkook’s walls completely as the soft glow of adornment laminated his eyes.

“I think I see ORion's belt. That’s the only one I know other than the Big Dipper.” You laughed at your own lack of knowledge of the stars. Knowledge didn’t seem to matter though, the beauty of the stardusted sky had taken care of that deficiency. You lifted yourself away from the telescope, allowing Jungkook a turn to stargaze.

“Have you heard of the Astral Plane?” Jungkook asking you something other than, ‘how was your day’, was a rare occurrence which most likely meant this was of some importance.

“I’ve heard of it, but I think I’ll need you to refresh my memory.” You really did need clarification on what exactly the Astral Plane entailed, though you mainly just wanted to hear him explain it.

“Some say it lies in the fourth dimension. It isn’t tangible or something that can be touched. It lies between everything, every atom, every cell, every city and forest and mountain and even between the crevasses of one’s own mind and soul. A place like this is full of divinity and complete attainment and the way it is reached has been theorized by many.” Jungkook’s meticulous readjustments of the telescope had you wondering which constellations he was searching for, or maybe he’d been looking for Venus or Mars or the Moon. “Some say you arrive there in your dreams, or when you reach enlightenment, or when death draws its curtain on you… I-I don't know why but I’ve always thought that it was stitched into the sky. Far beyond our galaxy, maybe the Astral Plane has situated itself in between each star, just like it does our souls, and exists as the vastness of outer space.” It turned out he wasn't looking for any of those things, he was looking for the Astral Plane.

Could the heat rising throughout your body be merely adoration, or was it something along the lines of a forlorn longing? When he spoke, you felt this sensation growing dense in your bones; you felt a gravitation towards him.

“Seems about right to me.” Fondness had stained your tone which filled some void in Jungkook’s hungry heart, and he’d failed to predict you were the one that would be able to settle it. “Maybe we’ll never reach the Astral Plane, but at least I’m here with you.”

When you said this, the hairs on his arms pointed towards the ceiling. For once in a very, very long time, Jungkook felt a euphoric resurgence striking through the catacombs of his soul and hot tears dripping down the expanse of his cheeks, to the tip of his chin, and onto the glass scope that was shielding this sudden emotional combustion. He blinked away the tears to the best of his abilities and turned away from you and the telescope and the sky. Jungkook felt the push of air from your movement towards him, but he shifted further away.

“Are yo-”

“I found a cluster of stardust, go look.” He averted you from him and you always fell victim to every trick in his book.

“Wow, that’s amazing!” The grip you had on the telescope was firm, like you were trying to hold onto the stars themselves.

“Amazing.” He said. This reiteration wasn’t for the stars, however. He wondered if you knew that. He wondered if you could feel how consumed he was by your magnificence under the full moon that reigned with gentleness over the waves. The once wild tides, now moving with the same serenity and romance embedded into Jungkook and this lighthouse. He wondered if you could see he had been emotionally disrobed and bearing all his affection for you. And he wondered how he was so okay with that.

Six o’clock didn’t feel like six o’clock. Your eyes that struggled to keep open told you otherwise, so again you and him were parting ways as the sun had begun dawning over the horizon and there were no more stars to fill the hours slipping away. Jungkook did all he could to compose himself. He’d offered to walk you out; you reached the door that led to the dewy, Spring air awaiting your departure from the lighthouse.

“Wait, ___!” This exclamation echoed louder than the beating of his crimson heart. After stepping through the threshold, you turned to meet his gaze, teary-eyed from what you guessed was from lack of sleep. Teary-eyed from what he knew was because of another egregious goodbye. “Thank you.”

This moment seemed fitting to test the theory that actions speak louder than words. This moment called for the lapse of courage in need to act, not speak. This moment was the moment when you finally expressed the thankfulness that, to you, seemed to outweigh his by pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. It was much colder than your lips and the docile warmth of the morning, but once you pulled away the warmth had stained his cheek.

Jungkook felt like every cell in his body was evaporating into the space around him. Like the way a fire would extend its heat into the air or the way Spring melted away the frost ridden Winter, your act had covered him in a blanket of love and refuge from the loneliness once vaulting his heart. And it certainly spoke louder than words; all the words in every book Jungkook had ever read and the words left unsaid and the words passing between everyone in the universe.

“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Hermit! You helped me see Orion’s Belt up close and personal!” You called as your strides began a slow fleet from a laughing Jungkook. You waved, now standing a generous distance from him, and he found this gave him the space needed to finally let his tears fall.

“I love you.” He whispered, hoping the wind would carry it to your ears and heart.

A revelation had overcome him, and no matter how many times he tried to wipe the tears away, they’d be instantly replenished like a stream of water rushing from a conquered dam, spilling over endlessly, with all control suspended in the air around him.

Was it finally here? The last, best thing?

---

A week after the stargazing, your mind had mapped out the stars as you too searched for that Astral Plane. To you, Jungkook’s proposition of it being strewn in the night sky was the only theoretical that made sense. You wanted to flaunt your newfound passion for this concept he’d introduced, and admittedly - and more importantly - you wanted to kiss him again, leading to yet another blissful walk down the seashore to the lighthouse. The air was warm but not humid, carrying a breeze that evened out the sun’s heat nicely. A few pillows of clouds were cascading through the sky, never staying in one spot for too long; you’d come to appreciate each one’s temporary presence and when they passed, you grew to appreciate that as well. The gaze once fixed on the sand had now traveled to the waves of much gentler motion than ever before.

This walk, unlike the dozens of others, felt different. The streets looked lovely and the air felt clean in your chest, giving you a pleasant journey far more intimate than the last. Then you realized, it felt like you were walking back home.

When you grew closer to the lighthouse, you noticed the curtains had been drawn which was strikingly unusual for a sunny day such as this one. This was a passing observation as you made your way to the base of the lighthouse.

Through the door to the room before the lighthouse, you were taken aback to find your armchair sitting in front of the table. you walked up to discover a single, folded parchment sealed with a red wax stamp labeled with your name along the top of the paper.

This felt eerie, for some reason, and you called out his name only to be met with silence, before sitting yourself down and unsealing the note.

It read in his voice:

My Dearest, ___

I wrote this to relay a lot of things left unsaid. The first being goodbye. I’m sorry to have to leave you like this, though no amount of remorse could possibly appease my actions.

Your heartbeat had grown rampant, until your eyes read those words. It was then when it stopped altogether. Still, you continued to read.

I kept things from you like the fact that our encounter in the town’s square was all but coincidental. The truth is scary, and my truth would have turned you away from the beginning. It was selfish, I admit, but I do not think I could have endured such a loss. Forgive me for keeping you in the dark all this time, but I am beyond gratified for what you granted me in spite of that.

Maybe it might seem cruel. You are not alone in feeling that — never alone. But, we were never meant to spend every Sunday morning, or Friday evening, or Wednesday afternoon together to watch the waves float along with the hours lost reading to you; I knew this was not the end of your story, just mine.

The books I have read over and over have imprisoned me in search of the “next best thing”. To my dismay, I thought I had run out of time to find it. But then you came along. You helped set me free by allowing me to live out a few more “best things” through the way you shared your life with me, unselfishly, warmly, kindly— You helped me move on.

I know you too will move on from this. I hope I could at least leave you with the tools and courage to find each “next best thing” in store. If not that, then this lighthouse, open to you and only you, and a myriad of good memories to ease our parting. I know in my heart you deserve nothing less.

I hope you find contentment somewhere in the sea or on the sand or in the stars, or perhaps somewhere in between.

Once you do, we will meet again within the Astral Plane, my love. I swear it. And if you miss me, just look through the telescope and find me woven in the spaces amidst Orion’s Belt.

Thank you. Again and again I thank you and it is still not enough. Thank you for you, for your warmth, for your salvation, for your smile, for your endless questions, for re-introducing me to the aroma of vanilla and patchouli but it was not as sweet as your companionship, for putting good use of the right armchair and the view from our window, for making the odyssey a little less lonely to read, and thank you for stepping into my lighthouse and my life.

Don't you see, it was you. You were my last, best thing.

with love and sorrow,

Jeon Jungkook

Before you got to the end of the letter, you were racing up the spiraling stairs, ignoring the burn in your tightened chest, how the air in the lighthouse had suffocated your lungs. The dizziness that blurred your eyes had not slowed your climb up the stairs, and the wetness of your tears now seeping into his letter.

You reached the top, The Odyssey greeting you on the chair Jungkook would have been seated in. Your breaths were staggered and warm, filling the mournful emptiness of the lighthouse.

“Jungkook.” You whispered. You begged for a reply. The curtains were drawn over the window, like never before, and exposed a bronze plaque peeking out from the end of the fabric. You pushed the drapes aside to read what was engraved into the metal plate and the first page of The Odyssey that hung below it.

In loving memory of our beloved son, Jeon Jungkook. May he rest in peace. 1918-1942.

The note below read:

The Odyssey

Jeon and ___ Lighthouse.

You pieced the puzzle together, finally. And with that, came the final picture, so beautiful and mesmerizing and everything you could have ever hoped for, and more.

“Jungkook.” You repeated as a bid of farewell, with a heart full of satisfaction and content, and Jungkook. You pressed the letter to your chest in hopes his words would mend your aching heart.

And it was true, he was not your last best thing, only one of them.

But he was undoubtedly your most cherished and beloved best thing.

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lingthusiasm · 3 years

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Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 55: R and R-like sounds - Rhoticity

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 55: R and R-like sounds - Rhoticity. It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 55 show notes page.

[Music]

Lauren: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Lauren Gawne.

Gretchen: I’m Gretchen McCulloch. Today we’re getting enthusiastic about R and R-like sounds, also known as “rhoticity.” But first, we have a liveshow! It’s happening in a very few days, late April 2021 if you’re listening to this from the future. You can get access to it by becoming a patron or, if you are already a patron, you will have access to it already. We will send you a link to the livestream video when it goes up.

Lauren: If you’ve missed the livestream, you can catch it as a bonus Lingthusiasm episode, along with 49 other bonuses, including our most recent one on speaking to kids and pets.

[Music]

Gretchen: It was really good that it was my turn to say what this episode was about because if you said the topic “R and R-like sounds,” Lauren, I feel like you might say it a little bit differently.

Lauren: I don’t know what’s wrong with talking about “/a/-like” sounds.

Gretchen: “/a/-like sounds” is a vowel.

Lauren: That is definitely convenient that you were the person to introduce this topic because rhoticity and this R-ness is something I can do, and I can definitely do it at the start of words like “red” or “rice,” but it’s a sound that is missing from the ends of words for me. So, it definitely is easier to hear exactly what we’re talking about with “/ɹoʊtɪsɪti/.” I can do it at the start, but when I’m talking about /aɹɹɹ/, I really have to work it to articulate that.

Gretchen: Welcome to International Talk Like a Pirate Day, Lauren, “Arrrrrrgh” is this whole episode.

Lauren: I get a bit over-enthusiastic with putting it in there for sure.

Gretchen: The nice thing is, is because this feature of English accents where some of them do pronounce the Rs after the vowels and some of them don’t is a feature of English accents that is one of the big accent splits that we have in English. We also don’t have to listen to me trying to do the bad impression of non-rhotic people saying, “/a/, /a/ and /a/-like sounds.”

Lauren: Our entire podcasting collaboration has really led up to this episode. This is entirely what our accent distribution was made for.

Gretchen: It was totally made for this. It’s a really salient feature across English accents that some of them do have this R after a vowel – “post-vocalic R” – and some of them don’t. In English, that’s what gets called “rhoticity.” Is this accent rhotic like mine or is it non-rhotic like yours?

Lauren: The class of R-like sounds is something we’ll be talking about all episode because it’s a bit of a grab bag both within English and across languages more broadly.

Gretchen: What exactly we mean by an R-like sound is one of those nebulous, squishy categories that it seems like it makes sense and then you look at it too hard and then it stops making sense and then you realise that you can drift your mind into soft focus and have it make sense again. One of the things that I enjoyed learning about English accents is how is it that in Canada we have this R and down in Australia you don’t have it. Where does that come from?

Lauren: It’s a really nice example of how migration creates these little accent time capsules. The R sound is something that’s very easy to lose from the ends of words. Across languages this happens. It’s a very easy target for something to get lost. It was far more common in England four centuries ago when a lot of people migrated. The areas that people migrated from in England and the British Isles and the United Kingdom, more generally, people migrated to what is now the United States and Canada. They had more of this R at the end of words as a feature. Then a couple of centuries later, when the colonists arrived in Australia from the United Kingdom, that feature was far less common there. You don’t find it in Australian or New Zealand accents, but you do find it in those North American accents more predominantly. Not always – but as a general feature. You have this really nice time capsule just because the migrants came a couple of centuries earlier to the US than they did to Australia.

Gretchen: It’s a neat – I mean, there are, obviously, historical records of when all this migration was happening, but it’s comforting to know that if we didn’t have those historical records, we would be able to reconstruct them from the accents.

Lauren: Yeah. Or if we didn’t have those records and, for some reason, the lack of R was also really common in North America, we have the written record in English to show us that there is an R at the end of words like “car” that there isn’t in some other words. As someone who doesn’t have this feature, sometimes, if I’m trying to put on a North American accent, I over apply it to words where there isn’t an R in writing as well. I recently tried to say the word, “tuna,” the fish, with an American accent and over compensated and went with “tunar,” which is absolutely not correct and also a terrible accent.

Gretchen: Also, that’s a piano tuner or something.

Lauren: Oh, yeah, a “tuner” that you tune a piano with – it sounds exactly the same for me, but it’s a completely different spelling and a completely different word.

Gretchen: Well, and the interesting thing is, I do have Rs in my accent, but I’m also very accustomed to hearing non-rhotic accents because I think I’ve listened to more Australian English in the last, say, five years or so because, you know, we talk to each other quite a lot doing this podcast. I visited Australia. But even before that, I’d consume plenty of British media and stuff like that, which a lot of the British accents are non-rhotic, but some of them are still rhotic, especially in the North and in Scotland and so on. I consumed a lot of non-rhotic accents, so I’m using to hearing it. In many cases, if you’re used to hearing those accents, you don’t even necessarily notice it as, “Oh, there aren’t Rs here,” you notice it, “This just sounds like it’s from wherever.” But sometimes when I’m hearing a non-rhotic speaker, I over apply, and I insert, mentally, Rs in what they’re trying to say even when they aren’t trying to say an R because I’m so used to reconstructing that R in my head.

Lauren: Amazing. You just hallucinate sound is basically what’s happening.

Gretchen: Yeah! A non-rhotic friend of mine was recently talking about lava, like the thing that comes out from the earth in a volcano, but saying, “There’s a lot of lava here.” I misheard her as saying, “larva.”

Lauren: As in bug babies?

Gretchen: Yes, as in bug babies, which is a very different mental image from molten rock.

Lauren: Especially if you think of them spewing out of the earth like a volcano. That’s actually terrifying.

Gretchen: It’s kind of horrific. But yeah, sometimes it happens on both the production and the perception side. Sometimes you can hear an R that isn’t there or hear a ghost of an R that wasn’t there, or you can end up producing it when you weren’t trying to.

Lauren: I think it is really interesting that, obviously, I consume a lot of Australian media. You hear a lot of Canadian voices. The two big producers of culture for that anglosphere, English speakers, is that Southern England English and the North American English. One in England is traditionally marked with not having R at the end of words pronounced, and American English does have that R. It’s very rhotic. We’re exposed to both types very commonly, which is why I think it’s hard to hear or remember that you’re hearing it.

Gretchen: I think it’s interesting to think about this in terms of the prestige varieties in both of these places because there are American accents that are non-rhotic. In the American South, a lot of the accents don’t have that R at the end of the syllable. There are British accents that are rhotic, especially in the north. The prestigious accent that you find on media and television, unless a character is being stereotyped as having an accent, the unmarked accent that you see on both of these is different with respect to that R. This was something that was one of those early revelations that I had as a budding linguist of like, hey, here’s this R. In one country it’s having the R that’s prestigious and it’s not having the R that’s looked down on. Then in the other country, it’s not having the R that’s prestigious and it’s having the R that’s more stigmatised. Clearly, it’s not R’s fault here. R is just a consonant just trying to live its life.

Lauren: Just a hapless victim.

Gretchen: A hapless victim of our human prejudices. There’s not some sort of objective right or wrong answer of, “Is R good or is R bad?” Other things that are associated with particular accents are also neutral variables, but some of them are widely disparaged all over and some of them are widely prestigious all over. This one is interesting, in the case of R, because it has this local difference on whether it’s prestigious or not prestigious.

Lauren: It’s made it a really attractive topic of study for linguists who are interested in the social values that we apply to different accents. One thing I find particularly interesting in the American context where this has been studied quite a lot is that it’s not just a matter of whether you have a rhotic accent or not. There are lots of people who can produce the rhotic accent and do include that R at the end of words or might not depending on the social context and how fancy they want to sound. Which means that we get to talk about probably one of the most famous studies in English sociolinguistics.

Gretchen: Yes. There is this very classic study by Bill Labov who is an American sociolinguist. He went to three different levels of department stores – one that was very fancy, one that was mid-level, and one that was like a bargain basement store. You really get a feeling for the vintage department store vibe. He found the location of something – I think the women’s shoe section is what he says in the paper – that was already on the fourth floor. He would find it on the map, and then he would go up to sales keepers and say, “Hey, can you tell me where to find the women’s shoes?”, and they would say, “fourth floor.” And he would say, “Pardon me?”

Lauren: Or they would say, /fɑ:ð flɑː/.

Gretchen: Yes, /fæːð flæ:/, in my bad imitation of a New York accent. He would say, “Pardon me?”, and then they would say it again, more distinctly. Then he would go around the corner, whip out his notebook, and write down whether or not they said the R in both the first one – the natural one – and then the careful-er, more enunciated one afterwards.

Lauren: You could more or less map the fancier the department store, the more likely the salesperson was to use the rhotic R. If you asked someone to repeat something, it then becomes careful speech, where they’re trying to be as articulate as possible, for whatever that means, and they’re more likely to include an R in that context as well. You see all these factors really elegantly. I think this study is attractive because it’s so elegant in how it was set up that people are more likely to use an R to sound fancy in New York in this context. It’s been replicated over decades. People have moved more towards R, and it’s become the concrete standard of pronunciation.

Gretchen: Also, I think it’s just such a fun mental image of some guy with a notebook wandering around from department store to department store. When we were doing Crash Course Linguistics, one of the thought bubbles, which are little animated bits, we actually suggested, and they took our suggestion, that they do a little animated Labov wandering from department store to department store. That’s a really cute animation that you can now watch.

Lauren: It also means that the concept of the fourth floor has become a bit of a linguist in-joke. I am so pleased to say that my office at work is on the fourth floor.

Gretchen: I went to a Linguistic Society of America conference a number of years ago in which all of the conference rooms at the hotel where on the fourth floor. You could just hear all the linguists taking delight in saying to each other, “Which way to the conference?”, “Go to the FOURTH FLOOR.”

Lauren: You could not have planned that better.

Gretchen: It’s also a bit of a meme in linguistics that stuff happens on the fourth floor. It’s a fairly salient thing about English accents that they do different things with Rs. There’s also downstream effects of what happens when your accent only sometimes has this R.

Lauren: Yes. Even though I say that I don’t have an R at the end of words, if you were to actually monitor my speech very carefully and do all the fancy phonetician sound analysis things or even just use your ears, I have R popping up at the end of words all the time in the context known as “linking” or “obtrusive R,” which is where you get a word that should have an R at the end, and then you have another word that begins with a vowel.

Gretchen: Because your Rs are only dropped when they’re at the end of a syllable, when they’re after a vowel, if there’s another vowel following, they can become the host for that R, then you don’t need to drop it anymore.

Lauren: If I said something like, “ca-r and /dɹɑɪvə/,” or “pasta-r and sauce” – it can even go in where there wouldn’t be an R. I guess if I said something like, “tuna-r and rice.”

Gretchen: There’s a bit of an R there, whereas I have “tuna and rice” and there’s nothing R-like there because, for me, “tuna” and “tuner” – “tuner” and “player” or something like that – those are totally different.

Lauren: It’s a way for my accent to mark the boundary between words in a way that works even though I can’t say an R at the end of a word without trying very hard.

Gretchen: Very “harrrrd.”

Lauren: In English. I should say R at the end of words is a feature of Nepali, and I can do that fine. I don’t think about it in Nepali, and I don’t think about it in English, but I have to put an R there. I have to work so hard in English.

Gretchen: So “harrrrd.”

Lauren: So “harrrrd.”

Gretchen: It’s something that stands out more strongly if you’re a non-rhotic speaker because, to me, I’m always paying attention to that R when it’s after a vowel. Having it show up in “pasta-r and sauce” or “tuna-r and rice,” that’s very salient to me as opposed to just being a thing you could stick between stuff. There’s also, sometimes, this R or lack of R shows up in certain stereotyped pronunciations of things. I’m thinking, you know that song in The Sound of Music where you’re learning the names of the notes – do re mi fa so la ti do – and they have this bit that’s like, “Fa – a long, long way to run”?

Lauren: Yeah, because it’s “/fɑ:/ – a long, long way to run.” You’re running /fɑ:/.

Gretchen: No, you’re running “far.”

Lauren: Hang on, yeah, because “far” in that song is F-A.

Gretchen: It’s F-A.

Lauren: I guess it’s a homophone, but it’s not a homograph. They’re not written the same. It’s a homophone for me but not for you.

Gretchen: It’s a homophone for, clearly, the writers of this song. As a child I was like, “What word are they trying to get me to say?” Because something like “ti – a drink with jam and bread,” that’s fine. I don’t write those the same, but I still pronounce it /ti/.

Lauren: Also, not spelled the same, yes.

Gretchen: I still pronounce it “/ti/”, we’re okay with one that. But “Fa – a long, long way to run,” I had to stop and think and be like, “What word are they trying to get at here?”

Lauren: One of those classic scenarios of a bunch of supposed German speakers in German singing a song that only – the whole song actually falls apart because they’re English homophones –

Gretchen: None of these are German words. They’re in Austria. Why are they singing all these English rhymes? It’s like you find the ancient inscription in the cave, and somehow you translate this poem into English, and it rhymes perfectly in English, and you’re like, “This was written in Sumerian. Like, what?”

Lauren: This is why we’re super fun to watch films with.

Gretchen: It’s like, “How does this song work in English? They’re speaking German!”

Lauren: This reminds me of another thing I have confounded you with in non-rhotic English, which is that because I don’t pronounce the R, I can use A-R-G-H to represent an excited exclamation of like, “AH!”

Gretchen: Oh, no.

Lauren: I have, on occasion, used this at Gretchen as a form of messaging enthusiasm. Gretchen has seen it as like I am –

Gretchen: Like, “ARGH I got ice cream!” It’s like, “Why are you upset about the ice cream? I thought ice cream was nice.”

Lauren: It turns out what we have completely different readings of this because, in my non-rhotic accent, it has way more of a general exclamatory-ness. What do you read “Argh” or “Arrr” as?

Gretchen: It’s an expression of frustration for me. Like, “Arrrgh, I don’t wanna do this,” or “Arrrgh, I got a flat tire,” or something. Not “Arrrgh, I got free ice cream.”

Lauren: I can use it in a much more broad range of contexts. Maybe this is just me. Maybe this is some idiosyncratic usage.

Gretchen: But like, A-H, “Ah!” I have a broader range of contexts for, but it is very distinct from “Argh.”

Lauren: I would have to say something like, “AH, I got ice cream,” A-H?

Gretchen: Yeah. This is fine.

Lauren: Okay.

Gretchen: I had this experience when I was reading, especially, British children’s fiction or British YA. The characters would say things like, “erm” and “er.” I was like, okay, fine, “Er, I don’t know where this is” or “Erm, I don’t know the answer.” I was like, “That’s just what they say in British. Sure. That’s fine.” How would you pronounce “erm” and “er”?

Lauren: They say /ə/ and /ə:m/. “Erm, let me think about that I, er, don’t know.” I do know. Exactly like that.

Gretchen: I didn’t realise until much, much later that this was just a rhotic description of the pronunciation that I would write “um” and “uh” – U-M and U-H.

Lauren: I guess this is one context where audiobooks read by someone who has the same general rhoticity as the original author would be very handy.

Gretchen: Yeah. Because I think, among me and at least some other nerds of my generation, sometimes I do write, “er,” when I’m in text because, to me, it has a slightly different meaning from “uh” because I encountered it in text.

Lauren: Amazing.

Gretchen: But the best one of you read something and it’s written for an accent that’s not your accent is – you know the donkey character in Winne the Pooh?

Lauren: Eeyore?

Gretchen: Yeah. As I would say, /ijoɹ/, because there’s an R in the writing there. I didn’t learn until I was well into my 20s that, of course, A. A. Milne was a non-rhotic speaker, and he would’ve pronounced that donkey /iɑ:/, like the sound a donkey makes.

Lauren: Mm-hmm.

Gretchen: This is a massive revelation for me, and you’re just like, “Yeah, I’ve known this my entire life.”

Lauren: Uh, yes, because donkeys have a non-rhotic accent. I thought that was obvious to everyone.

Gretchen: [Laughs] Donkeys don’t have Rs. A lot of these particular Rs that we’re talking about are specifically the R at the end of a syllable or the, what linguists call, “R-coloured vowels.” It’s a vowel and it’s an R smooshed together. This is how I would say the name of the letter R – it’s not /a: ɹ/ – it’s all one /aɹ/, all one thing. Or /ɹ̩/ like in “tuner” or “player” or “maker” or any of these words that end in /ɹ̩/.

Lauren: If you were writing it down in a specific phonetic notation, you wouldn’t have a vowel and then a distinct R there together.

Gretchen: Yeah. Sometimes, there’s a bit of gradience in terms of how you do that. If you think of something like, say I’m saying a single syllable that ends in an unambiguous consonant like /æt/, I have two different things going on in my mouth at the same time. I have the /a/ part and then immediately after that I have my mouth closing to make the T. But for R, or /ɹ̩/, my mouth is staying in the same position. I can just make the /ɹ̩/ – I can make the vowel and the R-ness of it at the same time without having to change my tongue position or anything about my mouth position. That’s what it means when a vowel can have R features on it at the same time or be R-coloured.

Lauren: That’s why we also hedge by talking about “R-like sounds” because it’s not that this is separately and by itself the sound /aɹ/ but that it has this influence over the vowel.

Gretchen: It’s got this influence over the vowel, especially when it’s written as coming after it. If you have something like “raw” or “ray,” “re-,” you do have “ra-”– you do have a movement from the R at the beginning to afterwards. That’s why it’s so easy to drop that R after a vowel because it’s already just a slightly different position for how you’re holding that vowel. R-coloured vowels are a thing that everyone taking intro English linguistics learns about because it’s a thing that we have in English – and I haven’t learned any other languages that have them. But you never know what that means about your language typology.

Lauren: Whether this is some super common phenomenon and you just happen to have not learnt a language with it or whether it’s just a weird North American thing.

Gretchen: Yeah, not even all of English. It turns out that R-coloured vowels are both very rare and very common depending on how you measure commonness.

Lauren: That’s because they also turn up in a couple of the more dominant varieties of Mandarin. This is one of those things that it was really nice to be able to put a name to, but I realised that I had been using this R-coloured-ness to help myself distinguish between whether I was likely overhearing Mandarin or spoken Cantonese because this R-colouring is really common – especially in really major dialects like Beijing and other Northern Chinese varieties of spoken Mandarin.

Gretchen: On the one hand, R-coloured vowels occur in less than 1% of the languages of the world, at least as we’re currently able to measure them.

Lauren: In terms of the speakers.

Gretchen: But they occur in two of the most widely spoken languages – right. North American English or certain varieties of English and certain varieties of Chinese, both of which have millions and millions of speakers.

Lauren: And are really common as the prestige types in media as well.

Gretchen: And are a really common second language. There are also R-coloured vowels in Quebec French where you have /ɹ̩/ a bit more – now that I’m thinking about it – is more a feature of Quebec French than in France French, and in some varieties of Brazilian Portuguese and, you know, a few other languages, a few Indigenous languages like Yurok in the US. There is a whole name for this phenomenon in Chinese because it’s common in Mandarin. It’s called, “érhuàyīn” [simplified Chinese: 儿化音; traditional Chinese: 兒化音]. It works differently to how rhotacisation works in English because it’s obligatory in certain contexts in English, whereas the way that it happens in Mandarin is – like other things, I don’t speak this, so I’m not exactly sure what the details are – but apparently, it’s used by speakers to notice people from different varieties.

Lauren: It’s so interesting that it was a feature I had been attracted to in Mandarin, and you had noticed without particularly noticing in Quebec French until we put together this episode and realised we were attending to the same phenomenon of R-colouring.

Gretchen: This gets us into this broader class of R-like sounds. Linguists talk about “rhotics,” but if you learned languages beyond English, really any language other than English, you’ve probably learned a different way to produce those particular R sounds because like, “Oh, this language has yet a different R.” It’s one of those interestingly nebulous bits of linguistics that people seem to share this very strong intuition that some sounds are R-like. And yet, when you’re trying to actually put your finger on, “Well, what makes them R-like?”, it becomes a way more complicated question.

Lauren: I guess one of the ones that is most immediately noticeable because it’s quite a fancy R is the /r/ in – I learnt to pronounce trilled R when I was learning Polish in a word like “pierogi.” It’s not as strong, but I could really emphasise it and talk about /piroʊgi/, which is definitely not how I would normally say that word, but you can hear that trilling of the R sound.

Gretchen: I encountered this R when I was trying to learn Spanish in high school. I got okay at Spanish, but I had a really hard time with this R. Because Spanish has two Rs. It has the tap R like in /pɛɾo/, meaning “but,” and then there’s this trilled R like in the word for “dog,” which is /pɛro/ – /pɛro/? Which I’m still not very good at. I can kind of make it now because there was a really helpful YouTube video that I watched a couple years ago after way too many years of trying and failing to produce this trilled R with the tip of your tongue. It turned out the thing about the trilled R is that you have to get a part of your mouth vibrating at such a fast speed that you don’t have conscious control over it. The way that you do that is you direct air in your mouth towards a place that’s just a little bit in front of where you actually want the vibration to happen. It’s like blowing into an instrument with a reed in it or blowing into a blade of grass between your fingers. You can direct that air and make this wavy – I think it’s the Bernoulli Reaction – happen in your mouth. That’s what’s making this sound that’s too fast for you to do it consciously. The mistake that I had been making was to direct the air actually at the tip of my tongue rather than directing it a little bit before so that the tongue can wave in the breeze like a little flag. I’m still not 100% on it, but I can sometimes do that [trilling sound] sometimes.

Lauren: It’s interesting that the R sound that the trill contrasts with is just a single tap. Instead of a repeated tapping motion, it’s just that single /pɛɾo/. One thing that is difficult about these R-like sounds that we’re talking about is that that’s more like something that we sometimes use for a D in English or a T in a word like /bʌɾə/ if we’re just saying it very rapidly. It is an R-thing in Spanish, but it’s not necessarily an R thing in English.

Gretchen: That’s what makes the category of rhotics or R-like sounds such a bizarre thing because basically it’s an R if people think it’s an R. There’s a lot of agreement within speakers about like, “Oh, yeah, this feels like an R to me, and this doesn’t feel like an R.” I really had to convince myself that the sound in “water” or “butter” or something was actually the same as in /pɛɾo/ because I was like, “But those feel like different sounds to me even though I can produce them both,” and I guess my tongue is doing the same thing. But one of them feels like an R.

Lauren: Whereas for the trill, you can replace an English R. You could say, “Let’s talk about /roʊtɪsɪti/” and that fits in as an R. [Gretchen laughs] I’m sorry to –

Gretchen: That’s great. No. Please. Let’s talk about – I’m just jealous that I can’t make it.

Lauren: Sorry to show off there. But you can see that in English, at least, that trilled R can substitute in for our usual R.

Gretchen: It sounds fancy, but it still sounds like an R. If I encounter a language, and I’m like, “Oh, it’s got this alveolar trilled R with the tip of the tongue,” I’m like, “Oh, yeah, totally normal R. Nothing to see here. Nothing surprising.” It’s found in Italian. It’s found in Spanish, Russian, Ukrainian, Dutch, Bulgarian, Swedish. There’s a whole bunch of languages that have this trilled R with the tip of the tongue. There are also a lot of languages that have the tap, which is just the single tap. Again, Spanish also has it. Japanese and Korean both have it. This is quite common in a lot of languages as well.

Lauren: I can do that trill at the alveolar, but I do struggle with the one that happens further back in the mouth that you find in French.

Gretchen: Oh, yay! That’s the one I can do.

Lauren: It’s in French and German and languages like modern Hebrew as well. Again, one of this category of R-like sounds but a bit further back.

Gretchen: /ʀ/ /ʀ/. This is the one that uses the little dangly bit at the back of your throat that you can see if you look in a mirror and scream. I think of it as a sort of cartoon screaming thing. If you can get that one waving in the back of your throat, /ʀ/ – I’m good at this one. My theory is that people are either good at this –

Lauren: You get one.

Gretchen: – the throat one or the tip of the tongue one and that very few people are good at both of them. Many people can do one or the other and are very frustrated they can’t do the other one. There are a variety of things that are done with the back of the throat that are often lumped together. In French you can have like, “roi,” the word for “king,” or “rue,” the word for “street,” and you can either /ʁ/ or /χ/. You can make it either with the vocal cords vibrating or not vibrating. You can pretty much do whichever one you want. Something that’s interesting about French is that French actually underwent a shift from the tip of the tongue one, which is still produced by a few, I think it’s mostly old men in rural Quebec, who still produce the one that you have in Polish. They still produce that R.

Lauren: Again, migration working as an amazing time capsule creation device.

Gretchen: Most of French speakers, including most people in Quebec – like younger people – but occasionally you’ll get some especially old men in less geographically central areas who still have that one because this has happened over the last 100 years that French has switched what kind of R it has. That’s one of the reasons why you can say, “Well, what do these two sounds have in common?” Okay. They’re both produced as a trill with that very fast vibration but so is the trill with the lips, /B/. Basically no languages consider the lip trill to be an R. That one’s not an R. /B/. I don’t know of any languages that consider that one to be an R-like sound. The other two that are midway in the mouth and back in the throat, those are R-like, and yet not this other one. The reason why it makes sense to consider all of these sounds together in the “R-like” category is because sometimes languages really do hop from one to the other because they still feel R-like somehow even though we don’t have a good way to pin down exactly what it is physically that you’re doing that makes it R-like.

Lauren: You can tell the sounds that linguists think fit into this category because the International Phonetic Alphabet character for them tends to be some variation on our character for the letter R.

Gretchen: It’s like shameless pandering to the R lobby.

Lauren: It’s really one of the cruellest things we do to people trying to learn to memorise all the symbols on the IPA because you have what we think of as a common R in English for words like “red,” or “rhotic,” is the letter R upside-down. Those uvular ones that you were talking about – is it a capital R upside down? The trill at the alveolar that we were talking about is the standard letter R. They’re all just little variations on it.

Gretchen: One of the things, speaking of Rs that vary, that I learned when we were researching this is that in Northern England there were once accents that used this /ʁ/, the back of the throat R like French has, which was described as a “burr.”

Lauren: That’s what people are trying to get at with that description of Northern accents.

Gretchen: Yeah. Because I’ve read – I dunno if it was Jane Austin specifically – but that era of English writer where they would say, “Oh, and this character had a ‘burr’ in his voice,” and I was just like, “A little fuzzy Velcro-y creature that sticks to you? What are you talking about this?” It’s actually trying to describe this /ʁ/ R that people had.

Lauren: Again, a nice example of the incredible variety of rhotic things that people have done with English.

Gretchen: What’s interesting is this R, too, is not always an R in every language because Arabic has a bog standard, tip of the tongue R like is common in very many languages. I actually had to go look up like, “What kind of R does Arabic have, again?” Because I studied it for a few years, and I’d forgotten what kind of R they have. And, oh, they have the normal one. Okay. Arabic also has a sound that’s very similar to what, in French, is the R sound at the back of the throat. It’s not treated as an R for the purposes of the rest of Arabic. It’s written with a G-H when you’re transcribing Arabic, and it’s produced in a very similar manner as what French considers an R, but it’s not an R language-internally, based on what people think of as R-like – in a similar way as this D in “water.”

Lauren: There’s this very loose set of what linguists broadly think of as potentially R-like, and then that manifests differently depending on the language and the other sounds that it’s in contrast to.

Gretchen: Exactly. Maybe the best example of this is that – because there’s a certain kind of sound that in some contexts can be an R-like sound, but most of the time in English, is more like a W.

Lauren: Right. Is that the very fancy Received Pronunciation English accent of talking about “woticity”?

Gretchen: “‘Mawwidge’ is what ‘bwrings’ us here together today.”

Lauren: It’s also a not-uncommon phase for children to go through. I think it’s worth saying, if you have any anxiety about not being able to produce one of the trills or one of the other R-type sounds that we’ve talked about today, it’s very common to not be able to hit sounds that aren’t in your languages that you’ve grown up with.

Gretchen: R is one of those hard sounds even for English-speaking children who’ve been exposed to it from birth.

Lauren: Children go through developmental stages where it takes them a while to get the hang of it. A lot of the time they’ll outgrow it. It’s worth just keeping an eye on and enjoying while it briefly occurs. If it’s persistent and your child is getting into 3 and 4 and it’s really not moving at all, that can be a time to maybe chat to a speech pathologist. But it is a completely normal phase to go through. It’s also completely normal not to be able to acquire sounds that aren’t in the languages that you are exposed to and that you speak. Don’t be too hard on yourself if you can’t hit one of those trills.

Gretchen: I have lost track of the number of small children, like extended family and friends’ kids, who have called me “Gwetchen” for six months.

Lauren: Oh my gosh, too cute.

Gretchen: “Gwetchen!” It’s great. It’s really wonderful. It’s so cute. There’s the classic Looney Tunes, “wascaly wabbit.” This is clearly also a stereotyped feature of a certain kind of childish speech in English. In addition to this T and G-H and W, sometimes, have ties with R, another really interesting sound that has ties with R is the /z/ sound, which is often written with S but actually pronounced /z/ as in “Zed.” In both the history of English and the history of Latin and the history of other languages, sometimes you get a /z/ changing to an R. This is how we get words like “was” and “were.”

Lauren: Ah. It’s one of those things that’s been staring me right in the face.

Gretchen: Yeah. “Was” and “were,” “is” and “are,” “rise” and “rear,” as in “to bring up.”

Lauren: Ah, yes.

Gretchen: And the suffixes “-er” and “-est” as in “bigger,” “biggest,” is another pair. Or words like “more” and “most,” “better” and “best,” “loss” and “forlorn.”

Lauren: Oh my gosh, this is a lot of very core English that I’m re-thinking for the first time.

Gretchen: Right? Sometimes an S or a Z just becomes an R or vice versa. Especially, the R often shows up between two vowels. The S changes to a /z/ sound between two vowels, and then that /z/ can change to an R because if you’re producing your R with the tongue near the front of the mouth, that’s kind of also where you’re pronouncing a /z/ sound. They’re not quite as different as you might think they are – at least if you’re producing that particular R. There’s also examples of this in Latin. You have things like “genus” – or /d͡ʒinəs/ – and “generous.”

Lauren: Which gives us “genre,”

Gretchen: “Genre,” and “generic,” and a whole bunch of words like that. And “genus,” like “species.” This happens in a bunch of languages. It’s not just those two. But you can see it in English and be like, “Wait! This has been here all along.”

Lauren: It’s another really great example of how rhoticity and rhotic sounds have this incredible flexibility and ability to change over time that makes them such an interesting little feature to pull apart and look at across a single language, across history, or across lots of different languages. You can start off going, “Okay, we’re going to look at R-like things,” and you can dig down and dig down and build more of an appreciation. You dig down so far you come back to they’re all just kind of R-like things.

Gretchen: You know how in nature the shape of a crab – the sideways scuttling, pinch-y arm thing – has evolved in several completely different branches of the family tree?

Lauren: Yes.

Gretchen: They call this “cancericization” – “everything wants to become a crab.” That’s “cancer” as in the Zodiac sign not “cancer” as in the disease. I think there’s also maybe – rhotacisation is like cancericization. Everything wants to become a crab; everything wants to become an R. R just shows up and has its little pinching fingers in so many different places.

Lauren: It’s never quite the same thing. Whenever you come across something written as an R in a language, it’s always good to keep an open mind about exactly what that is an exactly how it’s used. It’s a little recurring motif.

Gretchen: You keep coming back to this sense of similarity that people have noticed over and over again, even though these sounds are produced in incredibly different ways.

[Music]

Gretchen: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, “Not Judging Your Grammar, Just Analysing It” T-shirts, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I can be found as @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet.

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[Music]

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selfilluminatingkyu · 3 years

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Dancing with the Devil(s): Chapter III

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You don’t go searching for bones in a Lion’s Den. You just hope you don’t become a part of the pile.

F!Reader x Adult Trio; this takes place during the same timeline as Season 3 of HxH but the events with Kuropika and the crew are just shifted a little. Things will align back up within the next couple of chapters.

Warnings: Swearing; mentions of conditioning of a child (reader);

Word Count: 4.8K

After…whatever it was that had taken place with the members of the Troupe, Chrollo had placed you back into his study as he gave further instructions to the rest of the team, who you had been introduced to formally. You would have liked to say that the introduction had cooled your nerves a bit but that would have been a lie. If anything, it made you more anxious. The more you knew, the more susceptible you were to be considered a “loose end” and the likelihood of your impending death became that much more stark to you. Should you prove to be of no use to Chrollo or the rest of the Spiders, as you learned they were frequently called, your time would be clicking down on a timer.

You still weren’t entirely sure what had happened and what you had done that had proven to be so amazing that had the lot in such a tizzy. You’d spent at least an hour playing a continuous game of “hide and seek” as Nobunaga had dubbed it. Although, you weren’t entirely sure who was exactly supposed to be hiding, seeing you felt their presences the entire time. The only time you had been a little unsure was towards the end. Hisoka’s presence had wavered momentarily, as if he’d suddenly disappeared, but you’d taken in a deep breath and focused yourself only for him to pop back up again, like an object on a radar. Chrollo’s had also been faint at one moment towards the end but his aura had never truly gone away, not that you thought it was possible anyway. Not with how dark and menacing his was.

“I’m sorry for the delay, but it seems that there’s a new bounty on our heads and we didn’t collect all of the items for auction. There’s also some other matters to attend to.” You looked over your shoulder to Chrollo as he stepped back into the room. The information made you pause…you were certain that everything had been accounted for, for the first round.

His hair was messy in comparison to the slicked back style it had been earlier, and you mused that it made him look even younger and it suited him more. Looking at him you wondered how many people he’d disarmed and made comfortable with his looks and charm. In another life, he had to have been the eldest son to a very, very wealthy and powerful man.

Making a noise of agreement, you turned to look back outside. It was getting dark now. The brightest stars starting to pop up in the purple and pink hazed sky. It reminded you of all of the times you and your family went to the country side, away from the city and the light pollution, where you could look at the stars till your heart was content. More than once, you’d fallen asleep outside, wondering what other worlds were out there, what sort of people there were…if any of them ever felt like you did or were raised like you. In your head, there were other girls like you, who’d been raised the same and by some chance, you all ended up together, united and made sure it could never happen to another soul.

You were people, not property.

But that was a fantasy and this was reality and in this reality, you didn’t know when your time was up and so you’d decided that you would do whatever was necessary to be reunited with those you’d lost. You’d see your siblings again. You’d save them for your parents. You’d give them a better life, and all the unconditional love they deserved. No fear of being sold to the highest bidder in an effort for your parents to obtain something that was unlikely to act quench their thirst for more power, more money, just more.

“I don’t believe I ever actually asked you name…or how exactly it was you came to be among the items set for auction.” You jumped, so lost in thought that you hadn’t even register Chrollo. It wasn’t his voice that startled you, but the proximity of his mouth to your ear. He stood behind you, towering over you and making you feel smaller than you already did in his shadow.

“No, you didn’t. Not that anyone else did, to be frank. But it’s y/n. And I believe I briefly told you earlier how I came to be there. I’m the eldest of four and since a young age, my parents have always been complimented on how beautiful I was. I’m pretty sure from the moment I was born, they were told that they’d been blessed with a precious gem. They took it a little too seriously and decided that what other purpose was there for a gem than to buy them a bigger one? So…my parents figured to obtain more wealth, more power, more notoriety, they’d marry me off to the man or family that checked all of those boxes the most. So, they groomed me to be the perfect wife for a man of that caliber. I got all of the etiquette classes a lady of that birth ranking would get, along with ones that would place me outside of the pack. I had tutors for all of my studies and learned several languages. I was put under pressure and polished to perfection.

“At one point they were in discussions with a family, I was going to be married to their eldest son. I never met him, but I snuck into my father’s office one night and saw a photo of him and his family. While he seemed handsome enough, there was something peculiar about him that had me anxious before I’d even met him. But, while they had the money and power and notoriety…it wasn’t in the form my parents wanted. They wanted to be among those in high society, in the light where people on the street would whisper about them…not among the shadows like that family apparently was. So, my parents started again, except…no one was meeting their standards and the original family seemed to be the best offer they had…till there was someone else. I don’t know how the Don who bought me had heard of me, or how one of the others had, but he did and he was certain that he could tick all of the boxes my parents were trying to fill. So, they made a deal and suddenly I was being brought here to the auction.

“I was in a different room originally, by myself, in a suite. But the Don’s right hand man who’d been watching me prior to the auction came in flustered, talking about something going on and they moved me…which is where I was when…whatever sucked me and the rest of the items into a void happened and then I was backstage where the rest of the Troupe found me. And that’s it.” You turn to look at him and find that the look on his face has you turning around completely.

The man looks a mixture of furious rage and melancholy heartbreak…and it has you absolutely stumped as to why a man who has killed for sheer joy and amusement—as you’d realized after hearing their names and remembering the scarlet eyes—would look so pained over the story of a young woman being sold as a wife. It didn’t align with the character chart you had started creating in your head for him. No, it was just as peculiar as Hisoka looking concerned when Chrollo had ushered you away from the rest of the group, away from him.

Regardless, you stood and waited, waited for him to do or say anything so that you could gage how you were meant to react to him when suddenly he was looking at you and cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“You do not have to worry about being sold to anyone. I’m not in the business of human trafficking.” The sincerity in his words should have calmed you, but it didn’t. You’d heard promises from other men before. Promises to run away with you; promises to marry you and give your parents what they so desired and to save you and your siblings.

But promises were made to be broken and you weren’t going to hold your breath that this man, lawless as he was, was any different than the rest.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You said stepping out of his grasp and moving out of arms reach. The moment felt far too intimate for someone you had just met, for someone who was essentially holding you captive as he’d made no mention of letting you go.

Chrollo dropped his arms and looked at you carefully, you could feel his eyes rove over you, and you wondered if he was appraising you as a woman or as a ward, either way it made your skin crawl and feel like a filly up for auction all over again.

“I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I’m sure there were people in your past who promised you things and never saw them through. Left you feeling more vulnerable and alone than you had prior to. I understand that, I have been there and been in the same place. The only family, the only true family I had was one I created by bringing together a bunch of misfits who sought to burn the world to the ground for the atrocities that we shared. We are bound by a common goal of watching the world, and the people who prosper from the neglect and despair of others, burn. While I have not been in your exact position, I can still understand where you are coming from.” You turn to look at him, eying him carefully as he continues on with his little speech. “I’ll give you two options. You can leave, right here, right now. I’ll take you wherever it is you want to go and that’ll be the end of it. If we see each other, or if you see any of the other members, we’ll act as if we have no idea who you are. However, I think there are things you want to accomplish, people you want to keep with you and as you are now, you won’t be able to accomplish those things.”

“So…what exactly are you suggesting?”

“Stay with us. Let me and the other members train you, tap into the clear raw ability you have. Earlier, the members were using a technique called zestsu. When highly capable Nen users are using this technique, their presence is nearly untraceable. However, when myself or other members of the Troupe do it, along with other high skilled hunters, we should completely disappear.” He says and the way his eyes light up as he describes this has you both intrigued but also unnerved. “You, who has no nen abilities or true knowledge, should not have been able to detect Feitain, Machi, Phink, Shalnark, or Nobunaga when you walked into the room. However, there wasn’t a single presence hidden from you. That’s not something even elite nen users can do, let alone you. And yet…you did and with seemingly no effort at all.”

You looked him over, knowing this offer was too good to be true, and what was it that he got in return out of this deal? The warning bells in your head were going off, telling you that while this deal seems to benefit you the most…you just knew that there was no way, shape, or form in which a man like him would allow any deal to benefit anyone other than himself.

So, you did the only thing you could do, ask.

“How do you benefit from this? It seems burdensome to take on a complete stranger who may have a disposition for high potential. But there’s no guarantee that my nen ability is anything other than this.”

Clearly, the man wasn’t used to his authority being question—although it wasn’t in your intention to do as such, you could see how it could be construed that way—and seemed to regard you in a new way. He was obviously amused by your honesty and total lack of trust in him and his intention. You didn’t see how he could blame you though. No honor among thieves was a saying for a reason and you very much doubted that him and his ragtag group of thieves, professionals and highly regarded in the underworld be damned, were just going to pull a 180 and do something out of the kindness of their hearts. At the end of the day, a thief was a thief and their word usually meant little. That was something you father had taught you early on. You had been too trusting as a child, wanting to see the good in everything, regardless of the bad.

“But papa, that doesn’t mean they’re all bad.” A much younger you had said innocently enough as you father had dragged you away from the group of older girls who had been trying to exploit your generosity.

“No, it doesn’t but you also need to realize that the majority of people do not have good intentions.” Crouching down in front of you, he’d grabbed on your shoulders and made you look directly into his eyes. “And those who never do, never will. Do you understand? You need to understand that you are very valuable, and to the wrong people could be a great bartering chip to be used against others. Make sure you can’t be.”

You honestly hadn’t understood exactly what he meant, but the message had stuck and several years later, you had known what he meant by it. People who proved themselves worthy of your trust could have it…but you always needed to keep it in your head that there were those who, despite proving themselves as friends, could be masked foes and you needed to have a plan in place should that occur. More often than not, you wondered if you were actually the wolf in sheep’s clothing simply masquerading as docile and inept, when really…you were probably the most calculating and tactile in the room.

“And what’s to say that you won’t use what I teach you against me, against us?” He asks, and you know he means it rhetorically, but you can’t help your biting response.

“You wouldn’t ever give me the opportunity.” Your response is lightening fast, coming out before he truly has even finished his question and you know you have truly piqued his interest now, again making you wonder how people truly viewed you. “I told you, I was raised for the sole purpose of being a formidable opponent to anyone who tried to harm by future husband…my mother was not lenient in her pursuits.”

“Indeed…that certainly is becoming clearer now.”

You’d come to an agreement with Chrollo. He, and the rest of the Troupe who wished to partake in your training, would do as such. He had already told you that his methods did not truly align with the “generally approved instruction” of other masters, but then again…when did anything he did?

But as of now, he told you to relax. Take a shower, get some food, sleep, he or one of the other members would come and find you once they’d returned back from the mission he’d sent them on. As for him, he had other things to attend to. His offer still stood, he’d said before he’d walked out the door, that should you choose that you did not want his help or that of the Troupe, he would respect it, but advised you to be gone before anyone got back or the training began. Because after that point, leaving was going to require you going through the front door and would more than likely be a battle with whomever was blocking it. Whether that be him or a different member, he didn’t specify, and you didn’t ask.

You were currently sitting in the tub; in the room he’d showed you as your own. It reminded you a lot of the room you had at the home your parents owned in the country. It overlooked a beautiful garden in the back and had windows that faced the east, so when the sun rose, you would too. There was an en-suite attached that was larger than you had ever seen before. Shower, tub, separate toil area, two sink vanity, and walk in closet to boot. You knew they had money, despite his comment that “money, power, and fame were not” what drove them to do what they did, it was clear that their endeavors were clearly not fruitless…no, not at all.

The moment you realized you were alone, you’d crawled into the tub, clothing and all and cranked the water to as warm as it would go and just sat there as the water rose. While you had a thousand thoughts zipping through your head…you couldn’t seem to latch onto one in particular, just staring at the water blankly.

You thought back to the comment he’d made when you’d walked back into the study after his little experiment. Apparently we didn’t get all of the auction items. While yes, that was true, they hadn’t gotten all of them as there were different rounds and the items showed up in waves so they wouldn’t be vulnerable to a heist—or so Yuuto had explained when you’d asked—the items for the first round had all be within the lot of goods the others had brought back. And you didn’t take Chrollo for wanting silly things like rare videos games…although it was a high ticket item.

So, all you could deduce from that was that this was a trap. A poorly set one, and one you were certain he’d already figured out but still, the members he’d sent, unless aware were walking into a trap and the Ten Dons had an artillery of their own, with weapons you were led to believe could even take on the Phantom Troupe.

Regardless of all of this information though…you couldn’t say you cared, nor did you care if you were questioned later as to whether or not there had been more items because while you didn’t think there were any, you couldn’t be certain, and it wouldn’t surprise you if there had been more. Someone didn’t become that powerful by being lax in their paranoia.

Maybe you could learn and thing or two from that mentality.

You don’t know how long you sat in the tub for. At some point the water became cold and your clothes began to rub you the wrong way. Thus, you took them off, throwing them away from your body, drained the water and stared the process over again.

Your skin was not only a pretty shade of pink and red, just about all over, but the pruning of it was beginning to feel uncomfortable not that it bothered you. It was a distraction, one you desperately needed. But it also made you think.

Made you evaluate your circumstances and try to figure out what exactly your plan of attack was going to be; what you could anticipate being Chrollo’s and the rest of the troupes’ motives and actions from here on out…and how you could use all of those pieces to your advantage. You need to uncover their weaknesses and find a way to exploit them. Maybe there was someone who knew them and you could mutually benefit each other?

“Think too hard and you might hurt yourself little dove.” Were you not as exhausted as you were, you might have jumped out of the tub when you heard Hisoka. No, instead you turned to look at him, leaning against the doorjamb leading into your room, idly shuffling through his deck of cards.

He looked at you through his lashes, coy smirk growing on his lips as he sauntered forward and again, it struck you that had you not been so exhausted, mentally, emotionally…physically, you probably would’ve jumped up or screamed at him to leave. But you simply did not have any reserved energy left to consider your modesty a priority.

You also doubted it would do you any good anyway. Hisoka didn’t strike you as the type to listen to a request like that anyway. He seemed to enjoy toying with people’s discomforts.

“I wouldn’t call what I’m doing thinking.” You mutter, turning away from him and sinking further into the water, nearly causing it splash out of the sides.

“Oh? Then what would you call it? Planning? Devising?”

“I’d call it a jumbled ball of messy thoughts that benefit me in no way.”

He hums at this, coming to sit on the floor beside the tub and you suddenly realize just how tall he is. The tub has to be at least two feet off the ground if not more, yet when he sits down, and slouches even, he’s still considerably taller than you. You would, under normal circumstances, have curled in on yourself in order to preserve your modesty. It was one thing for him to be standing in the doorway, your back to him and the hazy from the steam distorting your image in the mirror.

However, with him right here, next to you, there is nothing distorting your nakedness from his peering eyes. A nakedness that no man, outside a physician for the Dons’, has seen. But for the fact that you are too exhausted to care, you do not move to cover yourself more than your arms already had. You hadn’t realized that at some point, you’d curled back in on yourself again…maybe your subconscious was more conscious than you realized.

Despite all of this though, Hisoka turn himself so his back was towards you and in that moment you were struck by something. Most probably would’ve viewed this as trust, but you knew better. You hadn’t known this man for more than a moment. It wasn’t trust at all.

It was a silent assertion of just how weak he viewed you. How weak they all probably viewed you. For some reason this pissed you off. Rage flared low in your stomach and raced through you veins and clawed at your throat, questing to lash out at the closest target. However, your mind was quick to act and quell those feelings almost as quickly as they appeared. He was right, you were weak and lashing out at someone that much more powerful than you was not only reckless, but just plain stupid. You’d accomplish nothing on your best day as it was, not even including the fact that you were currently exhausted.

No, getting pissed off was misplaced in this situation…but it was a tangible force that could push you do work hard, to become a formidable opponent.

One in which Hisoka would never turn his back on.

As you both continued to sit there in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if Chrollo had called him back to watch you. You thought it odd but not outlandish. You hadn’t taken Chrollo as a liar though and the offer to leave, while not something you were going to take him up on, seemed to vanish the moment Hisoka walked into the house or within a vicinity to spot you in your endeavors to vacate the premises before anyone got back.

But then you thought about what Chrollo had said. Leaving before anyone got back and scoffed, shaking your head, wondering how you could be so thoughtless.

“Something amusing little dove?” Hisoka poses, throwing another playing card towards the vanity. What he’s trying to hit, you’re not sure.

“Just realizing how inept my critical thinking skills have been lately.” His hesitation in throwing the next card relays to you his peaked curiosity, although he says nothing. “Chrollo told me I could leave should I chose to, but I had to do as such before anyone got back or prove that I was worthy of walking through the front door. At the time I thought nothing of it, assuming when he suggested I shower and sleep, that I’d have time to do those things. When you walked in, I wondered if he’d been lying but thought that odd because…I didn’t sense him lying.”

You pause and chuckle again. “No, he wasn’t lying…he just also wasn’t being entirely truthful either. He just left out the fact that you and whomever else returned with you wouldn’t be long after he left. Had I been paying attention, been thinking I would’ve caught that. I’m not entirely sure at what point I either reached such a level of exhaustion…or decided you lot were trustworthy enough to not care.”

The revelation had you looking up from your hands and the man sitting beside you. It also had you wondering what his purpose was for coming into the bathroom. You knew, now, that Chrollo hadn’t ordered him back; hadn’t given him instruction to watch you. No, Hisoka had come here of his own volition and you the question as to why was picking at your brain…and paranoia. Why would he come here? There was a piece to this puzzle that you were missing, and you couldn’t decide if it was because you just didn’t have the information or if it was again to your own obtuseness.

The thought niggled at the back of your head, running through scenario after scenario. Did he have a connection to someone you knew? Someone you had known? Was he a double agent working for the Dons and was keeping your close so that he could return you to them? No, that didn’t seem likely…but not the double agent part. You didn’t take him to follow orders from anyone; he didn’t seem like the type to play to play well with others for long.

“I’m starting to wonder if the steam is coming from the hot water or from in between your eyes little dove.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What is it you don’t understand?” He questioned, throwing another card and this time putting some force behind it as it cut into the vanity and stuck.

You were certain it was an intimidation tactic to indicate to you to tread lightly.

“Why you’re in here. I know Chrollo didn’t order you to be here, there’s no reason to place a guard on me. I’m sure he texted everyone telling them I wasn’t going anywhere, regardless of whether I’d come to that conclusion myself prior to or after he’d sent it. And I don’t take it anyone would just…wander in unwelcome. I’m sure there’s something, some presence around meant to keep those who don’t know better away…and those who do, a warning of fleeting life. And I’m not interesting enough to truly pique your interest. Maybe after I’ve spent some time learning nen and training. But as it stands, right not I’m of no consequence to you and so I don’t understand why you’re here.”

Taking in a deep breath, you realize that he’s completely stopped throwing the cards, and not because he’s out. No, he’s caused four more cards to stick to the vanity. The King of Spades, the King of Aces, the King of Diamonds, and then the Queen of Hearts are all standing up and a feeling goes through you that you can’t place. It warms you, and yet makes your blood run cold all at the same time and leaves you feeling a little lightheaded and dizzy. Maybe you’ve been in the bath for too long.

“You’re very perceptive little dove, more perceptive than anyone has realized…certainly far more intelligent than you’ve been given credit.” He stands and plucks the random card from the vanity, along with all those he scattered haphazardly on the floor but leaves the Kings and Queen. “I look forward to seeing how you ripen little dove. I’m certain that you will become…especially sweet when this is all said and done.” He chuckles lowly and in the back of his throat, the effect making you shudder, and not in a pleasant way, as he begins to leave before pausing and turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“I do have a question for you little dove.” He says and you hum, indicating that you’re listening. “What do you know of Illumi Zoldyck?”

#Dancing with the Devil(s)#fic #hunter x hunter #chrollo #chrollo fic #hisoka #hisoka fic #illumi zoldyck #illumi fic #reader insert fic

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