yung g, your bae

Table for two? | Open

Misao continued to look at him is disbelief. He wasn’t acting? SO, he really was this bad, amazing. And here she was thinking there was no possible way a human being could actually act like such a diva. Laughing softly she shook her head. Okay that was that question out of the way. But he was seventeen? Just a year younger than herself and yet because of his actions she could only see childish behavior. Funny.

Listening to him go on with his talk as she ate, she suddenly stopped and raised a brow. Yeong-ji Bae…? So that’s why he seemed vaguely familiar to her. She hadn’t been around that scene in sometime but she knew of Yeong-ji Bae. And with him listing his accomplishments it confirmed that he was the same person she was thinking of. Now knowing who exactly he was, his behavior wasn’t as far-fetched as Misao originally thought. With a life like that, it wasn’t hard to understand that one might get quite the ego.

At the Gamer’s question of who she was a faint chuckle escaped her lips. Her work would most likely be uninteresting to him but the pink haired girl might as well give an answer, no? Chuckling again, Misao finally removed her shades and began to speak.

"Oh, I know who you are. Anyone who is remotely interested in esports knows of you."

"As for who I am, my name is Misao Fujino, Data Collector. I don’t expect you to know of me, since I doubt you have ever needed my services."

#shslonmyouji #when did i even get this

The Korean shrugged.

"I mean, our coaches and analysts and whatever helped us a lot. I mean, like, data collectors and shit are really useful, but I haven't personally needed one."

He paused for only a moment, briefly considering the merits of having his own personal helper. Imagine... Someone to keep track of all his stupid interview dates. That would be pretty nice. Unfortunately, that wasn't a resource he had. Keeping track of all that was easy enough, it was mostly just a pain. He supposed a data collector... Mm, nah, probably wouldn't help too much there.

Maybe that could make it easier on the analysts? Who knew. Yeong-ji didn't. They did their job, and he did his.

Wait, he'd been silent for a while.

"Yeah, though, like, what you said about anyone even remotely interested in esports knowing me. I agree."

He took another bite of his orange then stared down at it for a while.

"What's the difference between an orange and, like, a tangerine? And then those other things? What are they, uh... Clementimes?"

Clementine.

"Like, taste wise? Is there even one? I don't think there's even one."

I have come to exorcise... the yokai known as 'Yung-G'........

"I get enough exercise thanks bye."

what if yung g didnt need to be destroyed

#what if we saved yeong-ji bae

Table for two? | Open

Misao held her fork in place as she watched the Gamer with a look of disbelief on her face. Was this guy for real? Or was he just fucking around? If she had to be completely honest, Misao would have to answer with that she didn’t know. His actions seemed so genuine but on the other hand his actions were so over dramatic that they came off as unreal. Did people like this guy seriously exist? Damn… And she thought she was bad.

Finally taking a bite of her salad, she continued to watch Yeong-ji with interest. Even if the guy was over dramatic and sort out there, he was still entertaining to watch. Misao raised a brow at his comment of her words being harsh. Were they really? She didn’t think they were, perhaps he was just over reacting again. That seemed like a thing he commonly did from what she had observed so far.

Quietly eating her salad the poor girl nearly choked as a bit of lettuce got caught in her throat due to a sudden laugh. This guy couldn’t be real. There was no way a human being actually acted this way, there was just no way. Swallowing properly, she couldn’t help but laugh as her eyes stayed on the Gamer. Seriously, there was no way this guy was serious…Right? Calming herself from her little fit of laughter, she wiped a small tear from her eye.

”Come on, stop fucking with me. You can’t seriously be acting like this. It’s like you’re five or something.”

Yeong-ji almost looked offended. He looked around a bit, chuckling incredulously to himself.

"Acting like what? What the fuck? I'm not acting."

He scoffed, tossing his hair and taking another defiant bite of his salad. He chewed it with vigor and swallowed it almost to make a point.

"Stop, like, implying I'm a little kid. I'm seventeen years old. I've been all around Korea, I've been to L.A. Staples Center. Sold out. Me, front and center. I'm not a kid."

The gamer moved back to his orange, hopelessly neglecting his poor, unloved apple. He'd only seen green apples. Yeong-ji liked apples! Just not green ones. He took it begrudgingly. He was saving it for later. Maybe he'd eat it. Maybe he would just... Put it in someone's backpack and walk away. Who knows.

He shrugged. It was probably best to explain why he was at the Staples Center.

"I guess you haven't heard of me. Yeong-ji Bae, SHSL Esports. Won Worlds last year as the MVP of LG LIFE's League team. Hugeass trophy, fuckton of money. Won a bunch of Starcraft tourneys, too, though it's not really my thing anymore, y'know? Why fight one v. one when you can fight one v. five?"

He chuckled, taking another bite of his salad. He covered his mouth as he talked, still chewing.

"Oh, I'm also a model. I mean, no big deal, but I do that, too. So. Yeah."

Yeong-ji swallowed, grinning at the girl in front of him.

"You?"

Probably not anywhere near as glamorous. That was okay. Her glasses were neat.

Table for two? | Open

The smile on the girl’s lips widen slightly as the boy allowed her to take a seat. Placing her own plastic box on the cool surface of the lunch table, she pulled out one of the seats with her manicured hand. After dusting off the chair, Misao finally sat herself down only to have the Gamer push his own salad in front of her and just as she was going to open hers too. Wow, okay, it’s not like she wanted to eat her own lunch or anything… Shaking her head a little she pushed aside her thoughts and listened to his words.

Raising a brow, the Data Collector looked at him rather confused. Yeah, the food wasn’t five stars but she highly doubted the food was that bad. Looking down at his salad, her expression went blank. Really? He thought that could kill him? It was fine. With a roll of her eyes the girl with pink hair popped the lid of her own salad as she spoke.

"It’s perfectly fine, you’re not going to die and this is coming from someone who can’t stomach many things. Stop acting like a baby and eat. Maybe you just need to get your eyes checked or something."

She doesn’t seem to hesitant on telling him her thoughts. Honestly, the way she saw it he was making a fuss over nothing. It really reminded her of her little bothers. Shaking her head to herself, Misao picked up her fork and stabbed it into her meal, if he wouldn’t eat his food it didn’t mean she wouldn’t eat hers.

Yeong-ji squinted a bit at her, then at the salad before hesitantly taking it back and taking a bite. Granted, it wasn't the best. But he supposed it wasn't the worst. It could use some... ...Uh. Well, Yeong-ji didn't really know what it could use. But it could use something. Like a refund. Free food! Either way, he sighed dramatically once he chewed and swallowed.

"Yeah, okay, whatever. Quick on the attack, Jesus. Acting like a baby? Damn. That's really harsh."

He looked around, then decided to start to peel his orange. Naturally, he didn't get a knife, because he hadn't thought of it. But he couldn't go up and get one now. That would make him look like a fucking idiot. So he decided... Fuck it. Do it with his bare hands. It wasn't like his fingernails weren't fabulous for a guy. After struggling for a moment, he managed to open it, but unfortunately...

He let out a startled cry, grasping for a nearby napkin and dabbing his eye.

"What the fuck, this piece of shit hit my eye under my glasses. Holy shit, that's fucked up."

After a moment, he took a bite of the orange. It was really hard to fuck up fruit. And it was good!

"I'm literally such a victim right now. Like, can I get some sympathy, please? Pat on the back, get well soon card... Care package..."

He trailed off as he took another piece of the orange, popping it in his mouth.

Table for two? | Open

The faint scent of a sweet floral perfume followed the pink haired girl, along with the clicking of her heels against the flooring of the corridor. The fabric of her brand clothes fit her figure so nicely, her hair looking skinny and healthy and her makeup—- Pfft, she didn’t wear makeup, what are you talking about? Shut up! —-Misao looked flawless as she always liked to look, even if it took a bit of time to get that way. But being stylish wasn’t always easy so, a bit of time in the morning was the price she had to pay in order to look the way she did. Not that it mattered all that much. Eyes were on her, compliments were given to her and she loved every last minute of it. But she had to be humble, if she were act any other way, what would people think of her then? She couldn’t risk it. She was this pretty, smart and well liked girl, Misao wanted to keep it that way.

As the Data Collector continued to walk down the hall, she greeted others with a friendly smile as she passed them or stopped to chat with them for a short minute. The usual day for the teenage girl. Going to her classes, talking to other students, going about her business, she seemed to enjoy it even if others may have found it to be a tiresome thing to do.

Turning into the cafeteria, the girl with pink hair went about ordering her lunch carefully. Despite the many choices, she could only stomach so much. If only they provided more healthy choices… Shaking her head softly at her thoughts, Misao picked up her packaged salad and gazed around for a place to sit.

Eyeing the many tables and students, her eyes soon stopped on one table only seating one other student. Smiling a little, she approached them.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit with you, Sweetie?"

#need about page #gotta do that later

Yeong-ji had grumbled his whole way through the line, through the cafeteria, and through to his seat. This school had shit food. He thought maybe for once he'd get away from awful high school food, but no. And he knew he wouldn't be able to bring food like he usually did.

Maybe there would be a bunch of SHSL cooks of some sort, he thought. Maybe they'd be cooking all the food, they thought. No. Yeong-ji sat staring at a plastic box of salad and two pieces of fruit. He could swear that piece of lettuce was fucking brown. He eyed it suspiciously before being alerted to a voice. A rather pleasant voice, who called him Sweetie. So, naturally, he jumped a bit in his seat, staring up at the person before settling into a waspish scowl as his gaze returned to the salad he had.

"Yeah, it's fine, whatever."

Brushing that conversation piece aside, he shoved his box to her, pointing at one quite green lettuce leaf, with absolutely no brown on it whatsoever.

"Am I smoking crack or is this piece of shit fucking, like, wilted, or whatever? Sorry, but the food here is literally terrible. Like, I'm probably going to die. Fucking... E. Coli or some shit."

The gamer absent-mindedly rolled the orange he had across the table to his other hand, then back to his first, waiting for the girl's judgment.

GOT DAT MUN PAGE FUNCTIONAL

RDY 2 ROLL CAP'N

what does ghost yeong-ji say to scare ppl

BOO-gatti im ridin rich haha swag

#BYE

{ repitition ↔ yeong-ji bae }

For Jane, there was almost no greater joy than relishing the particular looks which she would often receive from the patrons of her thoughtful harassment. This situation was the same as the rest; perhaps even more delightful than the others, if only for the boy’s highly expressive nature. She giggled sharply as he crossed his arms, clapping her hands together for a brief moment. The woman was quite excited to have found someone who was willing to toss this sort of mindless banter back and forth with her, and she would savor the moment for all it was worth.

She forced a look of feigned bafflement onto her face, as though his accusation truly was uncalled for. Jane knew for all she was worth that the boy indeed was correct: she had tripped him, quite blatantly at that. But the hearty denial of such a clear fact was what made the whole it so so much fun! Anything at all to conjure up a reaction.

"Heavens, Yūjo-kun, you are a feisty little bird! You ought to watch out — old age often comes early to those who don’t know how to sit back and rock with the tide of the sea. It would be a pity to see a grey hair pop up in that manicured mane,” Jane explained in a scholarly tone, shaking her pointer finger at him. She shook her head, dismissing the subject with a thoughtful smile. And as did he take a step back, she took a step forward, movements precise as clockwork.

"Tactless knee comments aside, sweetheart, I ought to have expected as much. Though I choose to focus my time and effort on things other than my clothing, I certainly respect your pride in something you’ve clearly spent so very much time perfecting!" Jane chuckled, patronizing the stranger quite blatantly. "It is a pity, though, that after so much work… The results would look so awfully threadbare! I nearly mistook you for a vagrant at a glance.”

Jane tilted her head in confusion as the boy went off on some tangent involving his name, though the results only served to fill her with more bewilderment.

"Ah, haven’t you ever heard of a nickname before…? If I was right, after all, and you are some sort of wandering street urchin… You will have to forgive me! Why, it’s not your fault that you never received a proper education — the system is at fault, eh?” Jane cackled, lifted one brow rather slyly at his next comment.

"Your lack of belief is disheartening, Yūjo-kun. Of course I believe in them! It’s the least I could do to spread the word about their existence to those of us who are a bit more ignorant to the mysteries of the natural world. Especially considering all of the favors they do for us! Haven’t you ever wondered how dewdrops get onto clover petals in the morning? It’s all thanks to the hard work of the pixies who reside inside tree trunks and toadstools," the woman explained, returning the boy’s smile tenfold.

He pursed his lips.

"A feisty bird. Uh. Why do you talk like that? Like, what does that even mean?"

The gamer looked away, letting out a quiet hum as he looked for other people he might know. Someone he could wave hi to, and start a conversation with, just so he could leave. This girl gave him the heebie jeebies.

"I'm, uh, really not concerned with, what, like, premature aging, or whatever? I'm fucking seventeen. And, like, rocking with the tide of the - whatever?"

He knew damn well what word came next. This way, he had more force, right? Something like that. He showed he didn't care about what he said, at least, and that much was enough in his eyes.

"Yeah, I have literally no idea what you mean."

He looked away, this time in the other direction, making sure to avoid her eyes. Holy fuck that would be weird. Eye contact? Direct eye contact? No thanks, Yeong-ji was fine with not getting possessed by Satan or whatever would happen to him if that happened. He rolled his eyes again, however, at her further attempts to insult his clothing.

"'Kay, so, you're like, completely ignorant to fashion. That's fine, whatever. I mean, I don't really put a lot of emphasis into looking this good, it's kinda natural."

A light smirk erupted onto Yeong-ji's features for a moment, but quickly fell as he looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up and around. Okay, he spent a lot of time on his hair. But his outfits... Well, he just put them on. After making sure to color-coordinate and get accessories lined up properly, and making sure he wasn't wearing the same outfit as the previous two weeks.

But that took no time at all!

"I mean, I model. No big deal. In South Korea, probably the hardest place to be a model. I mean, again, like, no big deal, that's just my side-gig. Getting paid to be really attractive, I mean. You're probably just mad, and that's cool, I can respect that. Not everyone is, like, blessed, or whatever. That's just a fact. Sorry."

Yeong-ji knew he was kind of a big deal. Play it real low, real smooth. Nice.

He frowned a bit at her next comments regarding nicknames.

"Uh, yeah, I've heard of nicknames. I have, like... Two online handles, at least, and like, fifteen million nicknames."

His favorite was The Punisher.

"Yūjo's just really close to my actual name, which I'm not telling you, because you're weird as fuck and you'll probably kill me in my sleep. And like, turn my head into a lamp. Ew, that's fucked up."

Yeong-ji winced briefly, almost wanting to take it back but not really wanting to waste the time. His suspicions were more or less confirmed as he listened to her prattle on about dewdrops. Really?

"That's actually condensation. It's part of the water cycle. I learned that in literally like third grade science class."

He briefly scratched the back of his head.

"No offense, but are you in, like, some sort of brainwashing religious cult?"

Because that's the kind of question you ask people.

{ repitition ↔ open starter }

Jane Doe had always been especially fond of badgering folks who fit into clear-cut, concise personality archetypes. Things were simpler when she could decide ahead of time what she thought about them, without having to go to the trouble of genuine, heartfelt observations. Besides, wasn’t it more fun that way? Making believe like the people whom she met were as flat and lucid as her paper dolls filled Jane with a peculiar feeling of fancifulness, as though life really was as droll as the fairytales made it out to be.

When it came to said archetypes, there were a few basics under which most people had a place. There were bookworms, social butterflies, meatheads, scary, stone-faced gremlins… And perhaps most exciting of all were the divas.

They were the type who had seemingly been born with an ingrained sense of entitlement. You were simply wrong, and they were simply right — it was as easy as that. And, as had occurred to the woman as of late, nothing added more ardent fuel to her soul’s rumbling flame than kicking said people down and out of the perpetual spotlights which they seemed to carry wherever their blessed feet might take them.

"Heavens, me? Trip you? Aaa-hah-ah!” Jane cackled, throwing her head back and holding no reservations as she rose her voice magnificently. She had quieted down nearly as quickly as the roaring laughter had begun, clearing her throat once, quite daintily.

"How could you accuse me of something so awful, dollface? I was only walking, after all. Besides… Do you really expect me to believe that those tattered rags are your trousers? They look more like denim unmentionables, to me! Ratty ones, at that,” Jane hummed, a smug grin on her face as she waltzed towards the boy. When she was close enough, she leaned towards his ear, lifting one hand before whispering, “I mean to imply that you look like a streetwalker, Yūjo-kun.”

This one did have quite the mouth on him. Perhaps that was what had stopped Jane from casting a quick and bothersome wart-growing hex on his boy and getting along with her day. No, such an especially crude young man deserved much more! Jane felt the bottom of her eye twitch, and she clasped her hands before herself patiently, ignoring his comment on her clothing for all it was worth. She would pay the snide opinion someone with that sort of taste no mind.

"You know, my dear, it may be wise of you to watch that tongue of yours. You never know what sort of wood nymphs and tricky little imps may be roaming just under your nose. They don’t take too kindly to boys and girls who speak with profanity, especially in the schoolplace. I only say so for your own good, of course — it’s no skin off of my back if they decide to turn you into a hog!”

The laughing was weird, to put it bluntly. Yeong-ji stared in near shock as the girl burst out into obnoxiously loud laughter as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. Why did she have to cause a scene? This was ridiculous. Yeong-ji raised an eyebrow as she began to talk more, insulting his clothing (which definitely cost more than her life, probably) and approached him. Closer. Really close. Oh shit. He took a small step backward in an attempt to put some distance back between them, but... That didn't work.

A streetwalker?

He folded his arms. Oh hell no. He took minor offense - and he knew he was going to respond. He decided to just... Let himself go, uninhibited, as free as the flowing wind that hopefully could blow this girl back to la-la land where she came from because holy shit she was weird. Where did people like this even come from? Probably the same place. Nevertheless.

"Okay, so, you're just gonna stand there and make me believe that "walking" now means, like, sticking your foot out literally twenty meters and tripping people next to you? I mean, that's basically what you did? The only way I can, like, begin to understand that kind of walk is if you literally didn't have knees. I don't actually know if you have knees or not, so, uh... Whatever, I don't care."

He rolled his eyes dramatically, taking another step back from her to create space. Space, sweet space, to get himself away from her as much as possible was Yeong-ji's greatest wish. Well, in the moment. A pool filled with money and naked people would be okay, too. A boy can dream. He grimaced at the girl and continued.

"Not that you'd know anything about fashion. I'd mention the designer but you probably haven't heard of him. Are you, like, history-textbook chic or something?"

He chuckled briefly at his own joke. Nice, Yeong-ji. Mental high five. Fucking owned.

"Oh, that's cute, yeah, get my name wrong on purpose."

Wait.

"Wait."

What the fuck?

"What the fuck?"

She didn't know his name!

"You don't know my name! What the fuck. Nevermind. Fucking weird."

Awkward.

"Wood nymphs and imps. Like, that guy who made those vines? Have you found his berries?"

He chuckled, again, at his own joke(?), satisfied with the amount of humor he was injecting into this humorless conversation. What a great guy.

"Uh, nah, those actually don't exist. You're really weird. Sorry." A short pause. "Wait, no, I'm not sorry at all. You're just really weird. Do you actually believe in that stuff?"

The traces of a smile found themselves forming on Yeong-ji's features, amused at the obvious orb of ignorance this girl lived in. Maybe this conversation wouldn't be insufferable after all!

{ repitition ↔ open starter }

Wake up at six forty five am, on the dot. Leave the dormitory at seven thirty. Study until five, give or take a minute or two. Return to home base, make a stop at the convenience store on the way. Shower at seven. Sleep at ten. Shampoo, rinse, repeat: though some may choose to argue this fact, there’s really nothing wrong with sticking to an unchanging agenda. Such a strict, menial schedule might grow tiresome for some folks, but it is an undeniable fact that success is rooted in routine. Through repetition and discipline, a human might find solace in their life taking on a steady rhythm.

That was the sort of humdrum Jane’s mother had always told her, and it put a foul taste in her mouth. Jane did not want success. She wanted excitement.

Although Jane Doe knew that her specified talent had nothing to do with fortune telling, she did know that she would drink four glasses of water on any given day, use the restroom at approximately half past three, eat a dinner which would leave her just a bit too full, and worsen the ordeal with a bowl of boxed strawberry pudding just before bed. This peculiar feeling of expectancy had almost haunted her as of late, and as her eyes trailed over the many unmoving heads of her classmates, she felt almost sad.

So, of course, there was just one thing to do. She would need to create excitement. It was a simple solution, really, and Jane wondered what had stopped her from thinking of it sooner!

Her eyes fell upon the person nearest to her current vicinity — they were just your average student, making their way hastily through the school’s winding hallways, likely on their way to someplace quite important. Perfect. She approached them without hesitation, a wolfish grin on her face as she lifted her hand to wave in greeting, and simultaneously her left foot — it jutted out at just the right time, causing the stranger’s foot to catch and send them flying to the ground. Jane’s eyebrows shot up in feigned guilt.

"Oh my god!” she shouted, one hand lifting to her mouth to conceal the joyous grim which had spread across her lips as a response. “I’m so sorry, mea dulces, what ever has gotten into me? These clumsy feet of mine are always getting in the way; what a bother. Are you quite alright?”