#does protection and asks messages ONLY from the character from Universe's Love and Light - ALWAYS AND ONLY from there!

[nei-ning]

One reason why I really love my Learning Tarot deck is because all cards have "Yes/No/Maybe" words on them so I can use them on simple "Yes/No" questions.

I haven't use them before on asking things, much, from fictional characters. Always mainly just from Universe's Love and Light. Well, since yesterday Gan Ning (surprise!) has been rolling in my mind a lot, been in my dreams etc. Also, every time, when lifting my eyes on TV screen yesterday and today there's been either KISSING scene or SEX scene, every freaking time! This has never happen before since I do avoid such content. I just don't like them. Kissing makes me feel uncomfortable and sex scenes are just horribly acted... So nope!

Well, I now realized I CAN use my Tarot deck to ask questions from Gan Ning as long as I remember to say that he needs to be from Universe's Love and Light, getting the answers from there too. (Note: Gan Ning's been in my life ever since DW6 which was published in 2008 so... A LONG time!)

It worked. I asked is he the one showing me all those kiss and sex scenes as a sign and I got 3 cards at one go, all saying Yes. Okay, I'm fine with that. It could be his way to say he loves me (literally EVERYONE loves us from Universe's Love and Light since the Love there IS unconditional).

I kept asking more Yes/No questions, getting very good and honest answers which I absolutely adore and appreciate! He knows I appreciate honesty without a doubt, ahah :D

I then asked: "Have I ever say or do anything to you which has insult or hurt you in any way?" INSTANTLY 2 cards come off. I flip them around, just see word "No" on both of them and... This loud sudden sound of laugh escapes me but it's instantly crushed down by a cry which caught me off guard completely. I honestly had to lift my hand to my eyes, trying to control myself so that I won't start to wail like a baby. I did allow some tears, tho! I think I only have cry when getting messages from Verti and Minna but this, from Gan Ning!? RELIEF! That's the only word I can think of!

Knowing I have not insult or hurt him in any way, even that my thoughts about him have not always been "the purest" so to say and still... What a man.

I just love him so much. He is like my very, very dear and close (male) friend who I do not have here on Earth. I have female friends, sure, sis' one male friend and one friend's husband (he is amazing guy! :D) but still. No other male friends. Having Gan Ning as a best male pal is amazing in it's own way.

... ... As I am writing this, of course there's The Simpson's episode airing on TV where Fat Tony forced Homer and Bart to make sure his mare is breed with stallion! LOVE SCENE - AGAIN - while thinking / writing about Gan Ning! :'D And next episode after this one? Homer and Marge, as Legos, making love... ... I'm lost at words, ahah! I can't!

What are you doing, my dear fellow!? :'D Embarrass me even more or what?! (Joking, I love you and I know you do this from the kind heart of yours! :D)

[byunbaekby]

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k   overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist  — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf​ for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe​ for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng​ the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno​ for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct​ for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep. 

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher. 

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.” 

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.” 

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?” 

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly. 

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair. 

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.” 

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating. 

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.” 

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.” 

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing. 

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after. 

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen. 

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror. 

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment. 

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye. 

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene. 

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him. 

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t. 

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you. 

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup. 

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t�� I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder. 

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past. 

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?” 

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket. 

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud. 

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.” 

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable. 

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate. 

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit. 

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class. 

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound. 

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag. 

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves. 

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand. 

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room. 

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all. 

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long. 

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside. 

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.” 

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also. 

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together. 

“You’re lying,” he sighs. 

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him. 

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life. 

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play. 

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands. 

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers. 

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him. 

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped. 

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.” 

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach. 

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand. 

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good. 

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him. 

He hums in response, turning to look at you. 

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his. 

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room. 

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure. 

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him. 

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it. 

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence. 

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him. 

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak. 

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste. 

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him. 

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM. 

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is. 

Shit. 

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly. 

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound. 

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again. 

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds. 

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life. 

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town. 

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set. 

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite. 

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him. 

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly. 

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake. 

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you. 

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous. 

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary. 

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study. 

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him. 

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate. 

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched. 

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover. 

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.” 

Your jaw drops. 

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.” 

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.” 

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.” 

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.” 

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this. 

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week. 

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days. 

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself. 

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny. 

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight. 

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking. 

“No, but I…” 

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight. 

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be. 

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath. 

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial. 

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen. 

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment. 

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.” 

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth. 

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his. 

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg. 

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough. 

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week. 

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone. 

“Kind of.” 

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes. 

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier. 

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him. 

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?” 

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush. 

Cocaine. 

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip. 

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room. 

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity. 

“So, can I have some?” You ask again. 

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?” 

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing. 

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears. 

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go. 

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him. 

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again. 

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking. 

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace. 

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure. 

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words. 

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.” 

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high. 

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.” 

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down. 

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets. 

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist. 

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were. 

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it. 

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong. 

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out. 

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand. 

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away. 

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable. 

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know. 

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left. 

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him. 

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth. 

When he wakes, you’re burning up. 

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin. 

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat. 

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck. 

It’s the cocaine. 

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!” 

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor. 

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—” 

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths. 

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head. 

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room. 

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case. 

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.” 

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up. 

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life. 

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better. 

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems. 

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you. 

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him. 

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe. 

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called. 

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods. 

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right. 

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words. 

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are. 

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?” 

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should. 

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.” 

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts. 

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now. 

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity. 

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.” 

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames. 

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile. 

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap. 

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.” 

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.” 

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door. 

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of. 

But you’re not alone. 

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate? 

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek. 

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you. 

He’s too late. Maybe much too late. 

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love. 

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it. 

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn. 

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak. 

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.” 

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone. 

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you. 

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone. 

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature. 

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you. 

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time. 

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.” 

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson. 

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again. 

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous. 

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.” 

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle. 

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship. 

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist. 

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment. 

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong. 

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs. 

[rahleeyah]

I saw the post you reblogged that was about the one specific detail that shows up in your writing and it has lived in my head rent free since then but I decided what I think yours is! This is mostly re: Blake fic but having also read hov I think it's true of that too. Anyway in a lot of fics you write there's this idea of a character (usually Jean, also liv) who had big dreams a long time ago but learned to put them to bed because the universe taught her that they weren't realistic. But then someone (Lucien, or Elliot) comes along and, slowly and kindly, rekindles those dreams. Then, usually, something bad happens and throws the dream into peril again, begging the question, was she wrong to bring it to light again? Was the universe right to teach her, all those years ago, that these dreams were not hers to reach for?? But then!! The dream comes true. It always does. And she learns that the things she wants will sometimes be the things she gets. She learns that it's safe, not reckless, to have dreams, that it's human, not sinful, to have wants. I see this in all things bright and beautiful (which I just finished I LOVE IT SM) where Halcyon is like, the physical manifestation of the part of Jean that wants to dream, the part she's been trying to subdue her whole life. Also in A Messy Kind of Love, Lucien and Jean have both dreamed of their soulmate and all but given up hope by the time they find each other. And in Shelter, my girl has this dream of going out and buying herself a little cottage and having freedom and independence and then she gets sick and loses those things but then she gets something even better! And again in hov, Liv has ALWAYS wanted children, wanted family, wanted a home, dreamt of belonging to somewhere and someone. And piece by piece she gets all of those things too. And SALVATION SONG it's so clear in that! You even wrote iirc something to the effect of "it was a beautiful dream, but it was only a dream" when Jean leaves the castle and resigns herself to never seeing Lucien again. I think that one actually might be the best example of it bc the idea of the castle housekeeper marrying the king is so far out of reach for her that it is far too easy for her to accept it as a beautiful little dream that is never going to come true. But then it does 😭😭😭

Anyway this ask has turned out so very long and I could basically write a dissertation on your writing (this was all just off the top of my head) but I think that if there is a grand message to much of what you write it is this. We can, and should, and must have dreams. They are beautiful, and exciting, and they keep us going. And sometimes, they even come true.

It's a lovely message and it shines beautifully in so many of the things that you write and i think it's a big part of what makes your fic such a joy to read.

Macy I 😳

this is so much?? i am so moved that you took the time to really dig into this, and sort of peeled back these layers and made this really profound connection bc you're right. it's not something i ever articulated to myself - bc we often do not see ourselves as clearly as other people do, do we? - but it is a major theme in like. just about everything i write, isn't it?

and there are reasons for that and like i don't wanna turn this into a therapy session but i read this and i had to like take a walk bc ooooof you just reached into my psyche and pulled out something i don't like to look at 🤣🤣🤣

sometimes, we tell ourselves it's safer not to dream. sometimes we try to protect ourselves from heartbreak by putting dreams aside. but what is a life without dreams? sometimes it hurts to dream, but god doesn't it hurt worse to bury the dream yourself? and sometimes, those dreams do come true. hope is something worth living for.

thank you for this, friend. this is just lovely and you really did about make me cry lmao

[inknopewetrust]

In Another Universe Part 3 (Marcus Moreno x Reader)

Summary: You are trying to normalize a world without Marcus, months after you snapped back to Earth. But in that other universe, an accident occurs in their mission to bring you back.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader (We Can Be Heroes/MCU Crossover)

Word Count: 2.08k

Warnings: Nothing, just some language. 

A/N: So... it’s embarrassing how long this part took to be published. If you’ll except an apology, I’ll be the first to beg for forgiveness. On the other hand... here’s part 3! Part 4 will be the conclusion of this miniseries so thank you for reading thus far and stay tuned for that. Right now requests are CLOSED but I am going to open them again soon when I get through the ones I have waiting and I’ll be adding L&O:SVU characters to the list. :)

Pain is a difficult concept to understand. 

There are infinite reasons to feel a certain kind of pain or to be in a specific kind of pain, but no one can truly understand it until it happens to them. Which in the case of you, is no one. 

At some point during the last five months, you had made a move to Clint’s farm. James thought it would be better for you to not be in the city where your closest friends were gone and weren’t returning. It was the constant memories of Natasha holding your hand when things got rough or Tony obnoxiously slapping you on the shoulder in a message of congratulations. 

There were so many memories that simply seeped through the walls, both physically and metaphorically, but it wasn’t as if a move was going to change that. All you wanted was to move, home, to Marcus and Missy and the life you had built in what James had called ‘Earth 2.’ 

Earth 2. 

Earth 2 was the only Earth that mattered to you and his deflection of it being secondary to the one that only caused pain was hurtful. But it wasn’t like he was going to understand that. So, you took up the offer to move to Clint’s farm and the second you landed and walked off the jet, you regretted the decision. 

Clint was surrounded by love. His wife, his daughter, his sons. They were everything and nothing to you at the same time. Clint had his own problems to deal with upon meeting a young woman who took up skills like his own and often left you with Laura and his children. 

Laura kept you occupied with small projects as they were renovating the barn and their basement, but it was just as mundane as the topics of conversation she tried to engage in. But with even the slightest mention of Nat, or Steve, or Tony, or the world you left behind, you shut down. 

It was intentional, but it wasn’t avoidable. Pain wasn’t avoidable when it was buried so deep. 

But there were the occasional good days. Like today. 

Laura had taken the boys to soccer practice and promised Lila a day out at the aquarium. She extended the offer to you but she never thought you would accept. When you did, she was pleasantly surprised and also promised she would pay for lunch too. It was rare that you would pass up the opportunity to snag a free lunch because you obliged and allowed her to plan the day. 

‘Maybe a day out would be good.’ You thought to yourself as you readied everything to go. For the first time in months you put effort into your appearance. A bit of makeup, nicer clothes, and shoes that weren’t scuffed or covered in dirt from the non-existent basement floor. 

And for what it was worth, the day was good. You allowed yourself to just enjoy, learn, and watch a mother interact with her daughter and in turn, the daughter made you feel like the aunt Clint had always told her you were. Lila saw the effort and wanted to make you feel as welcome and as loved as possible. 

And as the cracks of a broken soul begin to slowly merge together–where time would surely heal it to properly function again, a wrench is thrown to stop it. 

James Rhodes wasn’t sure how it exactly happened.

He had been standing against a lab table, watching Clint (the only other resident at the compound at the moment) work on his bow. The two were making small conversation about their day to day lives since everything had gone down just a few months ago. While Clint had just finished installing a replacement valve on the base of the basket that held his arrows. It hadn’t been turning properly and the only place that would have the parts was Tony’s former playground. Then an earthquake occurred... or what they could equate to an earthquake.

Neither of them had ever been a witness to one, but the ground shook violently, quickly, with little give. Parts fell off tables and the two men grabbed at whatever they could to remain steady. By the time they had steadied themselves, the movement stopped. It was followed then, only then, by a loud crashing noise about a floor below and glass breaking. Clint was the first to reach for his bow and James grabbed the closest gun he could find. Neither of them thought anything other than ��my god, what Thanos level shit is it now.”

Like the sleuth heroes they were, they managed to silently exit the lab and descend the stairs without so much as a creek. The living space that was located on the third floor was relatively untouched but the sound had echoed from the room. As soon as they turned around from the steps, they realized their suspicions were correct but it didn’t look like a Thanos level threat.

Behind the couch, the broken lamp that had no bulb laid on the ground beside a man. A man dressed in black tactical gear and swords sheathed on his back. He had other small weapons on his clothes but none of them were drawn and from the reflection of the glass window, Clint could see a perplexed look on his seemingly worn face. Although he didn’t feel the man was particularly threatening, Clint drew up his bow and held it steady from his position before calling out to him.

“Put your hands where I can see them.”

Cheesy, he knew it was but he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know where the hell this guy came from and he could easily be a sorcerer or God even though he looked like a regular Joe.

“Sir, I need you to show us your hands!” James was more assertive from behind Clint but didn’t move from his position. Ever since the accident years ago, James took a step back whenever he didn’t have his armor on.

The man had flinched a bit upon hearing their voices. He slowly raised his hands as asked and turned around to meet the eyes of two men who he had never met. Their weapons drawn on him but not unfamiliar to other situations he had been in before. This time, it was just more human.

“Who are you?” The one with short hair, a bow, asked him with a hesitant, gruff voice.

“Where am I?”

The man spoke their language—maybe not an alien.

“I asked you first who are you?”

“Where am I? Where is-“

“I do not want to have to shoot you, who are you?” James was aggravated, perhaps a little scared but he wouldn’t shoot unless the man made any aggressive moments toward them.

“M-Marcus. My name is Marcus.” Marcus’ voice was firm but scared. He didn’t know where he was. It was all an accident. One minute he was testing the machine and the next he was moving through a kaleidoscope of colors until he saw a blinding light and landed on a lamp in the middle of a futuristic looking living room.

There was a moment of realization in the bow-wielders face that gave Marcus a second of hope. Had this really worked? Was this your world?

“Alright Marcus, I am going to need you to tell me where you came from and how you got here.” The one with the gun in Marcus’ eyes began to move around the one with bow. He held out his hand calmly, signaling to Marcus that he wasn’t a threat but was protecting himself and his friend out of precaution. Marcus did not move his hands but nodded in agreement. What did he have to hide when he was now in an unfamiliar land with weapons pointed at his chest? 

“I don’t know how I got here. I work for a team and we were trying to get someone back. I was working on it but something went wrong.” 

“Do you know where you are?” 

“No.” 

“Who are you looking for?” 

“Our teammate.” 

Clint knew it was him. This had to have been the man you talked about with him and James was getting that sense as well. He was exactly as you spoke, handsome with a slight carelessness to his appearance. He had a mustache and his name was literally Marcus. It couldn’t have been anyone else, though they had no idea how in the universe he found his way to the middle of the Avengers living room. 

“Marcus, I am going to ask you a series of questions I need you to be honest with me.” Clint put down his bow this time and James looked at him with wide eyes but continued to hold his stance. 

“Does your world look like this one?” 

Marcus took a second to let his eyes drift out the windows around them. The world looked similar, almost an exact copy. He had remembered your startled realization that his world was just as similar to your own even though it wasn’t the same one. It was a strange concept that was hard to grapple with. 

“Yes.” 

“Do you have a daughter, Marcus?” 

“What?” This absolutely terrified him. As much as he wanted to be hopeful to find you, a mention of his daughter in a new world was not what he wanted. Now the question if he even escaped his own world and found himself in a new one was wavering. These people couldn’t possibly know he had a daughter unless they were familiar with the Heroics. 

“Do you have a daughter? I need you to answer this so I can-” 

“Yes. Yes, I have a daughter.” 

“Missy?” 

Marcus nodded his head and Clint looked at James who lowered his gun now. This was that Marcus. This was your Marcus and he was here to find you. 

“And what can you tell me about Y/n?” 

His heart leapt out of his chest with a fury at the mention of your name. 

“She’s my-my she’s-” 

Clint nodded his head and officially dropped his bow before extending his hand for Marcus to shake. 

“My name is Clint Barton, maybe she mentioned me, I don’t know. But she’s talked plenty about you.” 

“She’s here?” It came out just above a whisper as he met Clint’s hand. 

“Y/n is with my wife at our farm. I can take you to her.” 

It was like that final stretch of battle you had described to him before. This was his endgame, his chance for peace with you and the friends you left behind for years are willing to help make that come true. Much to his word, Clint prepared a jet to set off to the farm and James kept Marcus from stirring alone in his thoughts. It wasn’t as if the reunion would be soured because the relationship ended, no, quite the opposite, but the idea that maybe you would rather stay with the people who you had always been around was an invasive thought. James had eased those thoughts with stories of your return and subsequent difficultly to adapt to this life. That wasn’t an easy thing to hear, but it meant that somewhere inside you, you believed that life was better with Missy and himself. 

James reassured him that you were very much in love with him. You had told the two of them about your “other” life, about the team, Missy, Mrs. Moreno, and everyone else who made that other world home. 

Home. 

By the time James had gotten around to recalling the moment you had realized you loved Marcus, Clint had come back, gathered his own bags and motioned to the jet. 

“Looks like he’s ready to go.” James said and gave Marcus a friendly pat on the shoulder. 

“She deserves to be happy and I know with you she’ll have that. It’s what they would have wanted.” 

“Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would have found her otherwise.” Marcus chuckled but couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. It was a contagious one because the two men couldn’t help but feel the love the radiated off the man. They were happy for you and if leaving this world for another meant you would finally be at peace, then that is what it meant. 

“Go get her, Marcus.” 

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

Tag list for series: 

@pasckles @jupitersmooneuropa @agingerindenial @karnita-mexicana @mcueveryday @shadowolf993 @computeringturtle @roxypeanut​

[script-nef]

Dating headcanons (iii)

Characters: Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Oikawa, Sugawara

Category: fluff

Iwaizumi Hajime

He’s not very experienced in this department, a shy baby

Blushes too much and is extremely cautious when he’s around you

You know those characters who turn their blushing faces away with a hand on their neck? Yeah, it’s him.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and he nearly fainted

Hand holding is more common and you hug him after matches as a sign of “well done”

He always tries to protect you even though you promise you can do it yourself

“Hajime, I’m an adult.”

“Yes, but there’s no harm in extra precaution”

Poking at his biceps and thighs, enjoying how he splutters in embarrassment

You try to exercise with him, but always give up halfway because it’s way too hard

You’ll be lying boneless on a bench and he’ll carry you back princess-style

And his face would be burning up even after months of dating

After that, he asks you to just help him on his routines 

He can do push-ups with you sitting on him (kinda hard to stay on though)

Makes small dates to cafés, especially ones with animals

They just flock around him for some reason and you take hundreds of photos, sharing them to his friends

Tries to cook for you but isn’t that good at it

He once made chocolates for White Day and it was delicious

Turns out Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki had to eat all of his failed/previous ones and nearly couldn’t come to school

(He’s only talented in the desserts section, his cooking still sucks)

If you want to see him break, wear his clothes

He'll drop everything and freeze, face turning into a tomato

Also will scoop you into his arms and snuggle into your neck

You’ll be surrounded by warm muscles with affection, and if that isn’t the dream then what is?

Kageyama Tobio

Because he didn’t go to uni, your time is spent with phone calls and messages

Studying in university while he's off dazzling the world

He bought you a couple ring and keeps his on a necklace

He kisses it on his matches as a good luck charm and cleans it daily

It nearly broke once and he had a meltdown but calmed down once others said it can be fixed

Someone once asked about it and he said “My support and strength” with the most love struck look in his eyes

When he comes back to Japan, all his time is either spent on volleyball or you

Will sometimes come to pick you up when your classes finish

Having a buff 188 cm dork as a boyfriend is amazing

But he kind of gets jealous when you have to be in presentation groups with other guys

He does his best not to show it but man, a child could act better than him

He lets you practice your presentations on him and actually pay attention, asking questions to the point where it’s nearly interrogative

Tentative kisses are gifted while you’re trapped in his arms

In the beginning of  your relationship, his arms were stiffly frozen around your body. It’s gotten better with time

Tries to be very gentle with you (*cough* Power: 4 *cough*)

Is absolutely smitten with you and will do anything you ask

Expensive items? Done. Day spent lazing around and cuddling? Done. Selfies with couple hoodies and uploading them? Super embarrassed and will die soon but also done.

Trying to help him soften his glare so that he can approach animals (haven’t been successful so far though)

Whispers how much he loves you every night as you fall asleep in his arms

Oikawa Tooru

Is so damn expressive and loud about his feelings for you

Every time you see him: 

“[Name]-chan, I love you!” 

“How’s my amazing soulmate doing today?” 

“I bought you this huge plushie because it reminded me of you!”

Sends good morning and good night messages every day

Asks for cute selfies and cherishes them

His photo album is 95% you or you and him on dates

Starts distancing himself from his fans after your relationship starts

A lot of them are supportive of his relationship but some aren’t

Once saw you get harassed and nearly lost his shit

Cried because he’s the reason you were being hated on

You comforted him saying it's okay and they can't stop your love for him

He's now convinced you're an angel (which leads to your most used nickname)

You help him with his self-confidence by reciting all of his amazing achievements and little quirks you love

Buys matching key rings (related to volleyball) and flaunt it at every chance he gets

Drama QueenTM but in the best way

Will never let you feel down or unloved

Video calls despite the time zone difference when he’s in Argentina

Once took a vacation there (without telling him) and surprised him at practice

He cried so much and never let go of you for the month

Daydreams about proposing to you in the most cheesiest and romantic way

Sugawara Koushi

Softest boyfriend and the most caring lover ever

Always remembers anniversaries and special dates

Discusses his tiny students with you, gushing about them

Sometimes his “baby voice” that he uses to speak to his students slips out

He loves kissing you on the top of your head while you kiss the moles under his eye

Dates are usually to the park or museums

Tells you titbits about various instalments he learned to tell his students

He reads you books to help you sleep, usually classics

Makes sure you’re either warm or cool depending on the season

Once celebrated your birthday by creating a scavenger hunt

It took you all over the city; libraries, Karasuno High, a shrine, his school and then an amusement park

Rode the Ferris wheel at night so he could show you the glittering lights underneath

Y’know those jinxes of relationships lasting a lifetime if you kiss at the peak? Yeah, he tells you that

Soft kisses are exchanged and he vows to never let you go

Constantly checking up on you, not to the point where it’s overbearing though, to make sure you’re well and nothing’s wrong

Cried when he had a nightmare of you breaking up with him

For like half an hour even when you were saying that you would never do that

Had to watch a sweet and cute movie to help him calm down

Cannot think of a life without you in it

[star-maiden]

Oracle of November - Healing and Personal Growth

Theme: What is needed for your highest growth and healing?

Hello and welcome! This week we are seeing a bit of a change with my readings! (Don’t worry. I will still do the Tarot Forecast). With everything that has been happening in the world recently, I think many of us are noticing a shift in energy. People are fearful, worried, anxious, angry, and all the shades of feeling that come in between. This week, I was inspired to do this oracle reading focusing on the themes of healing, self care and what we need to focus on to become the best, brightest version of ourselves. I asked Spirit to share messages that we needed to hear at this time to support our highest growth and healing, and in general help us handle everything that is happening in the world in a healthy and supportive way. As with all of my readings for the collective, these messages are meant for a wide range of people, life paths and situations. It is general outlook advice. As such, you may find that not everything resonates with you completely, and that is ok. Please take only what resonates and leave the rest. You will also want to check your sun, moon and rising signs for the message or messages that are meant for you. I sincerely hope that these messages will serve your highest and greatest good, and assist you in making wise, informed decisions. May you be safe and supported at all times!

⭐ Another deviation from my usual modus operandi this week is that instead of my tarot cards, I will be using an oracle deck. This is fairly unusual for me because I tend to only use my oracle deck in private readings for myself or with clients. However, I feel that this particular oracle is best suited to the task of providing us with the messages that will be most supportive at this time. If you guys like the oracle reading, I may start doing a monthly oracle for the collective. Please let me know if you would be interested in seeing that! This deck is the Starseed Oracle by Rebecca Campbell and Danielle Noel.

General Message: The general message for the entire collective at the moment is The Void. Stop. Embrace Winter. The Great Cosmic Womb. The message of this card tells us to surrender to the unknown. Trust that just because we do not have all the answers and cannot see every little thing that is happening beneath the surface, it doesn’t mean that something is not at work. We will all be best served by taking a sacred pause at this time. Rest, replenish and prepare ourselves to move forward in action again when the time is right.

♈ - Aries: The Great Severing. Mars energy. Anger. Conflict. Softening to love. For you this month, Aries, I am sensing that there is a rift that needs to be mended. This may be a conflict with loved ones or acquaintances, or it may be an internal conflict that you have been struggling with. This card is one of shadow work and confronting anything in our lives that make it difficult to feel connected to love, and supported in our work/daily lives. This card is appearing to tell you that it’s ok to feel the way that you do, even if the emotions may seem negative. In order to move away from hurt and anger, we have to go through the experience and process of feeling these things. Whatever is coming up for you, acknowledge it, process your feelings by allowing the experience. It doesn’t make you “weak” or incapable in any capacity, it makes you human. Still, do not feel ashamed of your reaction to difficult emotions. Wanting to hide away, to close your heart off and to protect yourself from further pain is normal. However, when this happens, it’s important for you to acknowledge what is happening and consider the reasons why. Do what you need to do to move through the experience of your emotions. It may be that you need some time for yourself, or that you need to talk to someone you trust, or even that you need to seek professional support. All of this is perfectly ok. Take care of yourself, Aries.

♉ - Taurus: Soul Plan. The Fated Life Vs the Destiny Life. Taurus, right now you need to remember your roots and your strength. What was it about your character, personality or spirit that has carried you so far already?  You have wandered away from yourself, and have not been standing in your power. This card is telling you that you have not lost your strength, but rather you have forgotten. Sometimes, when we find ourselves in unfamiliar situations, or on a path to which the destination is unclear, we experience doubt and fear. This is ok to feel, but don’t let it rob you of your agency. You are being called to remember the strength of your soul and the inspiration of your spirit. What can you accomplish when you lead from a place of love, rather than an illusion created by fear?  

♊ - Gemini: Messenger. Sirius Energy. Bringing Harmony and Balance. The message for you this month, and the way that you can support your highest growth and healing right now rests in the power of your voice. This is the power of your mind and your words to create and communicate. It may even be that you are not the one in need of healing at this time, but that you are being called to act as a mediator for someone else. The message of this card is that there are certain souls on this planet who are here to spend their lifetimes uplifting the collective energy, and to be the guardians of balance and harmony. Their life path or purpose, in this sense, is to help the collective recognize the connections that tie us together. This includes connections between people, people and the planet, with spirit and the divine. It is possible that you are one of these souls tasked with holding this frequency of pure love. There may be a special calling or work that you feel drawn to, or you could simply be meant to live your life with great love and intention, leading by example. This month, consider how you can create balance in your life? Who does this benefit? How does creating balance take care of you? Be sure not to create this balance at the detriment of your own well being, though.

♋ - Cancer: Loosen Your Grip. Coping Mechanisms. Destiny. Addictions. Let God In. This card is appearing to let you know that there is something, a feeling, habit or idea, that you have been holding onto too tightly. It is likely that you have used this thing as a coping mechanism; as a way to distract yourself from the things that are not going well in your life, or to cover a vulnerable aspect of yourself. This is not supportive for you, and has become a hindrance to your growth and happiness. It is time to let go, and to trust yourself and the experience you are having now. You are strong and capable, and can meet any challenge with grace and ease. Do not let fear tell you otherwise. Call in support if you need to. The oracle book says this: “Loosening your grip doesn’t mean that what you are clinging to will go away. It may. Or it might stay. But you can be sure that what is for you will find you.” Take this time to let go of anything that is not serving you, or that is destructive in any way. Letting go is part of the healthing process.

♌ - Leo: Star Bathing. Light Body. Crystal Grid. Transmission. Activation. I’m hearing a question for you, Leo. Spirit is saying “Where do you shine?”. In what ways do you feel most inspired to show up in the world? In what ways do you feel stifled? This card is asking you to consider what has been going on recently in your life. Is there anything that makes you feel especially drained, or reluctant? If so, it could be that it is not meant for you and needs to be let go. It could also mean that you are spending too much time focusing on outward actions, and not enough time doing things that are meaningful and restorative for you. Evaluate your feelings and energy levels. Take things slow. Is there anything that needs to change?

♍ - Virgo: Earth School. Life Lessons. Soul Growth. Study. Higher Learning. There is something that you need to learn, a karmic lesson perhaps. What has been showing up for you again and again? Virgo, pay attention to any patterns that may appear in your life right now. This is a sign that you need to pay special attention to these areas as it is time to mend them. This card also asks you to consider your perspective on any difficulties that show up in your life right now. You may find them easier to handle if you think of them as opportunities for growth, rather than “getting something wrong”. This month, consider: How are you being called to grow and learn?

♎ - Libra: Earth Pulsing. Pulse of the Mother. Slow Down. Time in Nature. Wow, Libra! Spirit’s message for you came through so clear! This month, you need to focus on self care. If you have recently found yourself in a cycle of “go, go, go” and are feeling a bit tired, then it’s time to rest. It’s time for you to reconnect with nature, with yourself, with the earth energy. When you take time for yourself, you allow for stagnant energy to fall away, and open yourself up to receiving more energies of love and inspiration from the universe.

♏ - Scorpio: You’re not for Everyone. Embrace Your Weirdness. Face Your True North. The message of this card tells you that you shouldn’t try to fit in or conform to anyone’s perception of who you are. Rather, you should focus on being true to yourself, and showing up in the world in a way that makes you happy. Sometimes, this is difficult for others to accept. Most often, it is the people who are closest to us that carry the strongest opinions of who we should be, and it can sometimes result in conflicts and disbelief whenever we uncover a side of ourselves that was previously hidden. Others may not agree with our choices or styles, but this is ok. We need to learn to be ok with each other's differences, and if someone cannot accept you for who you are, then it is a waste of your time and energy to try and convince them otherwise. In life, there will always be people who don’t like you because you don’t fit in the box that they have created to categorize and understand the world around them. This isn’t your fault or problem to fix. For every person that dislikes you, there is also someone else who will love you fiercely and stand up for you should you need it. Seek out these people. Don’t waste your time and gifts trying to make someone else see your worth. If they can’t see it already, it’s their loss.

♐ - Sagittarius: You are Not Alone. Isolation. Physical Connection. Community. With this card, Sagittarius, I am hearing that perhaps you have been spending too much time in your head. You may have withdrawn into yourself to deal with something, or to protect yourself from pain or conflict. In fact, many people find it deeply nourishing and healing to pull back from the buzz of the world, go within and rest. It is a great tool of self care, and a wonderful way to take care of ourselves when we feel overwhelmed. However, we can also spend too much time alone. If we stay withdrawn to the point that we are completely isolated from everything and everyone around us, then this can also be draining and damaging. Right now, it may not be safe for you to venture out and you’ll want to consider your personal health and safety when making decisions. One great tool that we have is technology. If you have been feeling isolated and alone, reach out on social media or to your friends via technology. How can you reach out to the people in your life to feel more supported?

♑ - Capricorn: Forge. Don’t Follow. Be the leader you wish you had. This month, Capricorn, you are being called to heal and mend something that happened in the past. This may be something that happened to you or to someone around you. Pave a new path forward by leading by example. Is there something that occurred in the past that you feel was handled poorly? This could also be in reference to social justice and equity. How can you be a leader in this situation? The book says “the most courageous and needed leaders are the ones who don’t wait for permission, or until they wake up feeling ready. They take a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and figure it out as they go.” This is a powerful message. Like Gemini’s message, I’m sensing that it may not be you who needs healing at this time. It may be that you are being called to light the way for someone else. If no one is stepping up to the plate on topics that you are passionate about, then forge your own way. If this is something that you feel very strongly about, then no one else would be able to meet your goal with the same level of skill, passion, experience and unique perspective as you can. How are you being called to lead right now?

♒ - Aquarius: Big Picture Thinking. Pleiades Energy. Visionary. Inspired Ideas. You are being called to bring healing and renewed energy into your life through your creativity and inspiration. Is there an area of your life that feels stagnant and watered down? If so, then it is time to breathe some life back into it; to rekindle your passionate spirit. It is never too late to make changes and to learn new things. Aquarius, you may be the sign that knows this lesson best. What new ideas or creations are you being called to pursue? These ideas may be revolutionary in the sense that they turn the status quo upside down, or they may be of a “big-picture” perspective; designed to create change on a large scale. This card is asking you to dream a new world into being for yourself. To do so, you will need to envision what sort of future you’d like to have, hold this vision and follow it with daily action. Walking this path may take great courage, but it will be worth it in the end.

♓ - Pisces: Child of the Cosmos. The intelligence of the universe lies within you. This month, you are being called to trust yourself. Trust your inner knowing and all the work you have done thus far.The intelligence of Spirit; of the universe and the Divine is within you, just as it is in all living things. It is the part of you that knows the way forward no matter how unclear and uncertain your logical mind becomes. However, because we all live our lives with free will, it can sometimes be hard to recognize the deeper wisdom of our higher selves. We may become disconnected from our intuition, and forget to trust our own sense of knowing. If you have felt lost lately, then this card is a reminder to look within. Trust the voice of your intuition, and let it guide you forward. You are always connected to the source of inner strength, wisdom, flow and power. You just need to remember.

[finaledenialist]

Okay, your tags on The Empty Post have showed up in my notes and I have to ask. Tell me more. Tell me it all. All of the feelings and thoughts about that scene because what I’ve seen so far? Absolute perfection and I agree wholeheartedly.

Thank you! Okay I basically unloaded most of my thoughts in my tags here but let’s go through this one more time. I may add: this was already said a thousand times by better meta writers than me 3 years ago when season 13 was actually airing. And I will ramble a little about Purgatory, too. Now with that out of the way: 

The Empty. Canonically it is a being, a living immortal being that rules the place or an ‘anti-place’ where angels and demons go are sent to when they die to dream of their regrets forever (this sounds awful and like a punishment for dying despite being immortal, for getting themselves killed or something). Also: the Empty was there before Creation, the Nothingness before Darkness and before Light. 

Okay. But let’s see what other things the Empty represents: lack of anything. Complete nothingness that Cas got sucked into (by Lucifer but also by helping the Winchesters). Now we know that Cas‘I am afraid I might kill myself’tiel had his issues, right (I still can’t believe that we are praising 8x08 thee Hunteri Heroici for being a filler episode with Cas - which is awesome, don’t get me wrong - but we all keep forgetting what he actually did say to Dean there!!! Dean says: are you afraid the angels will kill you if you show up in Heaven? And Cas looks straight into his eyes and says: After all I’ve done, when I see Heaven, I am afraid I might kill myself).

Please remember that it’s not only Dean, Mr. ‘Purgatory was pure’. Cas, after all he did in season 6, after his death in s7, after coming back and being literally haunted by everything he’s done, must have felt that Purgatory was liberating, too. It was some kind of an Alternative Universe where he didn’t have to face the consequences of his actions. He was free of them. It was literally his escape AND additionally it was (well, according to good old christian lore, maybe not specifically spn lore) a place where you are supposed to atone for your sins so there must have been the feeling of atoning, of making things right without actually doing anything specific, where having to survive and not get eaten by the Leviathans was his main problem (= surviving was just enough, nothing was asked of him), which, compared to all he’s done, wasn’t that hard or difficult. He found himself running away from Leviathans which could mirror running away from consequences of his actions - but it was Purgatory, it was at the same time atoning for what he did. It was EASY.

Cas basically confirms that he officially stayed in Purgatory because he didn’t think he deserved to go back to Earth and that is true but what he doesn’t say is: ‘Purgatory was pure and easy and kill or be killed and no other worries than that, no thinking, no real responsibilities which actually was a nice escape from the real world after all I did and been through in the past 3 years’. He wanted out, he wanted an easy choice. Okay, maybe he wasn’t actively looking for an easy way out but when it presented itself - when they appeared in Purgatory - he took it like a gift. We’re talking about a character who spent all his life following orders, who finally broke free and found himself completely lost in the freedom of choices, directionless and maybe wanted an escape. He must have felt overwhelmed but all this freedom (which he basically confirms in 6x20 freedom is a length of rope and god wants you to hang yourself with it). I COMPLETELY understand that choice to escape. 

So in seasons 8-12 Cas has a lot of stuff going on in his head, he gets lobotomized for most of season 8, he is hurt and tortured and treated like shit for most of season 9 and 10 and he ultimately gives himself up to Lucifer in s11 and then he almost dies in 12x12 and he never really got to talk about all of this or work this things out with anyone because Sam or Dean are not really the most talkative guys and Dean in 10x09 basically tells Cas to ‘let it go and not think about it’ which is a shitty advice to someone who suffers from some mental issues if I am being honest (this is like. ur depressed? oh go for a run and smile and stop being sad!!! kind of advice if you ask me). So these issues only grow and grow and start eating him up and please remember that at the very same time Cas is falling in love. I said it previously but I think the moment he realizes what he really feels is 12x12 when he is dying. In that moment he is able to name this feeling but it’s of course covered by: ‘I love you. I love all of you’. 

Now in season 12 he finally gets a proper arc with Kelly (god bless her, honestly, she and Cas had one of the most healthy relationships ever portrayed on tv and it wasn’t even romantic, I could go off about this but it’s getting really long anyway). So he kind of is on his way to find a purpose again - Dean is saved (from hell, from Michael, from the Mark), so he focuses on Kelly and unborn Jack and maybe in his relationship with her he rediscovers love (not necessarily romantic but he sees how she loves Jack) and he does all he can to protect her from basically everyone including the Winchesters. And he promises he will take care of Jack and then. Then he is killed by Lucifer (shattered at the altar of Winchester because he gets involved in the Apocalypse World because of them while having built something for himself with Kelly and Jack BUT still not having properly processed all his previous trauma). 

Okay, so fast forward: Cas is woken up by Jack in the Empty. He is of course confused and stuff (we still don’t know what was he dreaming about all this time he spent there now that we know this is a place where angels and demons dream about their mistakes and regrets <- fanfiction gap #1). He wakes up, he is ‘greeted’ by the Empty and one of the first things he says is that he has to go back because Sam and Dean need him. 

This is his first, automatic thought - I (probably) don’t want to go back, but Sam and Dean need me so I have to, I don’t want to go back for myself because I never wanted to since Purgatory but I know I have to. He doesn’t even think about Jack in this moment. I... maybe it is a stretch but I sense a kind of fear in these words. It’s like he thinks: ‘if I had the chance to come back and chose not to come back from selfish reasons then if the Winchesters ever find out about this they will be angry at me’. But I might be reading too much into this, but on the other hand Jesus fucking Christ this is precisely what happened in Purgatory. He chose to stay although he had a chance to return and the effect was Dean being mad at him. Talk about trauma--

Then the Empty (who was in Cas’ mind) voices his biggest fears: 

'I know who you love, I know what you fear. There is nothing for you back there. Wouldn't you rather be a fond memory than a constant festering disappointment?'

There is a lot to unpack here because this is the Empty’s (who, as stated at the beginning can be read as a manifestation of not only death but also Cas’ depression and self-worth issues) reaction to Cas saying that Sam and Dean need him. She says: uh oh you’re wrong<3 I know who you love, what you fear, the is nothing there for you, sweetie. Essentially: they don’t need you. No one needs you or wants you there. They are better off without you. Wouldn’t you rather be a fond memory (of actually being useful as in: saving Dean from hell, helping to stop the Apocalypse, helping to fight the Leviathans) than a disappointment (failing powers, makes mistake after a mistake, chooses to protect the unborn Antichrist rather than killing him before he’s born - and not to make this whole thing worse but this is what Dean has the audacity to say to Cas in 15x03: why if something goes wrong it always seem to be you).

I will now allow myself for some privacy, because I am a person who dealt with these kind of thoughts in my head for years, these are straight up suicidal thoughts: no one needs you, no one wants you, you are a disappointment and if you die you will be fondly remembered, everyone is better off without you. And we know Cas was suicidal because he literally tells us in 8x08 and we have no proof that he somehow got rid of these thoughts, ever. If anything, they were always there, present, if not growing. Thoughts like that don’t just disappear. Please remember one more time what was happening to Cas in seasons 8-11. He wasn’t healing. He was getting worse, while all this time managing to keep his head above water for someone else, while the guilt was rising and rising. 

If the Empty represents all his issues: depression, suicidal thoughts, guilt, self-hate, lack of self-worth, and what she offers is: eternal sleep. Maybe not entirely peaceful sleep, but sleep nevertheless, no consequences, no facing your fears, no dealing with anything, an escape, sleep - 

And she prompts him to stop fighting, to go back to sleep because there is nothing to fight for (now the symbolism of him being waken up by JACK who was his new found purpose just before he got killed), but she makes a mistake to confront his thoughts and fears with him. She makes a mistake of taking a ‘physical’ form, putting on his face and voice his fears. And Cas is a warrior and he kind of hates himself, so his instinct was to fight. Of course it was easier not to think about all of these stuff at all, to push it back, to try to forget. But once he was forced to face all of these? He fought back. AND HE WON!!!!! 

WHAT A MESSAGE TO SEND RIGHT?!!! You might have all these issues and not want to face them because you feel you will crush under them but look: when you are forced to face them it turns out you are somehow way stronger than them!!! The moment you choose to fight you already won, you are already saved!!! Because ultimately these are your thoughts and this is your mind and you control it, no one else! The moment you decide, you choose, to take control: you win. You are saved because you chose to save yourself because you decided you are worth saving. And the Empty (and everything she represents) immediately gets angry and lets him go, ultimately annoyed because he dared to defy her and she just can’t win with someone who decides he wants to be free. WHAT. 👏🏻  A.  👏🏻 WONDERFUL. 👏🏻  MESSAGE.  👏🏻

So... Having said all that. There is only one thing left: I have NO IDEA. NO IDEA. HOW HE FOUND THE STRENGTH. TO STAND UP AND SAY THIS:

I'm already saved. You can prance and you can preen and you can scream and yell and remind me of my failings but somehow, I'm awake. And I will stay awake and I will keep you awake until we both go insane. I will fight you. Fight you and fight you for... ever. For eternity.

A FUCKING ICON. STRONGEST CHARACTER EVER. YOUR FAVE COULD NEVER--

[kittyprincessofcats]

She-Ra S5 E03 - Corridors

Sorry this one took me so long to write up. But even though it’s now been a while since season 5 was released, I still really want to finish writing up my thoughts on all the episodes, so here we go.

This episode. THIS EPISODE. GOD. I love it so much! I predict this post is going to be full of me gushing about how amazing it is. Also, there might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post.

- First of all, I love how this episode begins with so many “oh shit” moments for you as a viewer. First you realize there’s no scene before the opening and you’re like “oh shit”. Then you realize it opens with a Catra flashback and you’re like “oh shit”. Then you see present!Catra looking down on her planet getting destroyed and then standing undecided between two corridors - one light and one dark - and you’re like “oh shit, guess we’re finally answering the ‘redemption or not’ question.” I love how it’s set up in a way that everyone knows within the first few minutes what this is going to be about and that shit’s about to get real.

- I also love that this season didn’t beat around the bush and did the redemption so early on. I was worried that we’d have to wait until the very end and wouldn’t get to actually see Catra work and bond with the good guys. And like I said before, all the groundwork for the redemption was already there after season 4, so I’m glad they didn’t make us wait.

- I like that Catra runs on all fours when she’s trying to be fast.

- I really like that first scene between Hordak and Catra. I generally think their relationship is super interesting, since they’re not as different as they think and they’re narrative foils to each other in many of the same ways that Catra and Glimmer are. And they’re in a very similar situation as Catra and Glimmer, too: They don’t particularly like each other and were fighting/trying to kill each other before getting abducted. But now they’re stuck on Prime’s ship with no way out, and are one of each other’s only reminders of their previous lives, so they still end up reaching out for each other (albeit in a smaller way than Catra and Glimmer do). I like how Hordak calls her "Catra", clearly showing that he does remember, and how Catra immediately recognizes him because of that and calls him by his real name as well (though she doesn’t realize what consequences that’ll have for him). I also like that despite their history, Catra tries to bring his memories back and tries to bond with him. I also find the line “It’s good to see a familiar face” interesting, since the clones all technically have the same face. (Basically, I need more fanfics about Hordak and Catra talking things out and becoming friends post season 5.)

- Bow being an exhaused parent who’s trying to keep Adora and Entrapta from destroying the ship is hilarious, but I also feel really bad for him.

- I also just realized that Bow, Adora and Entrapta are the rescue party, while the respective people they’ll end up with (Glimmer, Catra and Hordak) are trapped on Horde Prime’s ship... there’s fanfic potential in this.

- The entire talk where Catra and Glimmer bond over Adora - Do I even need to get into how perfect that scene is? “You’re lonely, aren’t you?”, both of them admitting it helps to talk to each other, them sitting back to back, Glimmer talking about her perfect day and Catra looking visibly sad when she mentions Adora, but Catra NOT lashing out and acting jealous this time but talking about her own memories of Adora, them bonding over memories of Adora - JUST YES. GOOD STUFF.

- “We’d play tricks on Kyle, stay up all night whispering about... you know, whatever.” And that was another one of those really strong Catradora hints. I didn’t pick up on Horde Prime’s “elevated heartrate” line in S5Ep1, but this line I did notice and it was my first “omg, this is actually happening, isn’t it?” moment. (Because I kind of just assumed that Noelle wouldn’t queerbait us and wouldn’t put in so many Catradora hints if it wasn’t going to happen.)

- Glimmer: “I’d do anything to go back and make it right.” *camera focuses on Catra’s sad face* Enough said.

- “There’s nothing for me on Etheria.” The fact that Catra was so surprised to even be asked what she’d be doing on Etheria speaks volumes, imo. She never considered the possibility of getting to go back there and never really thought about what she even wants.

- I love that Entratpa named the ship “Darla” and the other characters (and Darla herself) just go with it without even questioning it.

- “If I could tell you where Adora is, I would. She’s my enemy, I want her gone!” This whole exchange is so brilliant. Prime is such a good villain. I love how he sees through Catra’s lies right away. Also love how he refers to Adora as “your Adora” (he definitely low-key ships them). I also love how Catra is still trying to protect Adora, even when Prime sees through her bluffs. And that shocked expression on her face when Prime asks if she wants to be “free” of her feelings for Adora - poetic cinema.

- Hordak’s purification: God, this scene is so incredibly messed up and creepy - I love it! Starting with Catra’s worried expression when she looks at Hordak and how she angrily glares at Prime, how Horde Prime does the creepy face-touch thing, how Hordak looks back at Catra with this sad, resigned expression, the creepy clone cult with their glowing eyes and their chants, Horde Prime’s whole cult language (“suffer to become pure”, I mean, wtf?), how Catra’s so horrified by the whole thing and Prime tells her "Do what I ask of you” (the threat very clearly being “or I’ll do this to you, too”). 10/10

- Catra blushing as she brings Glimmer the cake... she is baby.

- “Adora’s on that ship, isn’t she?” This line gets to me every time. I already love how before this, Catra was talking to Glimmer quietly, trying to make sure the clone in front of the door doesn’t hear them as she tells her about the ship - but this line kills me every time. How Catra whispers it so quietly, how she looks so concerned for Adora, how you can tell in just that one line how much she still loves Adora - seriously, shout-out to AJ Michalka for how she spoke that line.

- I feel like everyone has already spoken at length about the rest of Glimmer and Catra’s talk, but seriously, it’s amazing. I love how Glimmer reasons with Catra and points out the flaws in her thinking, and I also think she really got through to Catra here. It might be the memories of Adora that finally get Catra to make the right choice in the end, but I think Glimmer’s words really got through to her as well. “Do one good thing in your life” - I mean, damn!

- I also just noticed that Glimmer and Horde Prime act as foils to each other in this episode as well, with how they’re both trying to convince Catra to make a different choice. Glimmer bonds with her over their memories of Adora, while Prime offers to “free” her of those memories. Glimmer begs her to not to sell Adora out and tells her Prime will just get rid of her, while Prime assures her she’ll be “raised above the other creatures of her homeworld.” Both of them at one point ask Catra what she really wants. (Glimmer: “If Prime captures Adora, he can use the Heart of Etheria to wipe out the whole universe. Is that what you want?” / Horde Prime: “ You will be exalted, raised up above the other wretched creatures of your home world. Is that not what you wanted?”)

- Adora hanging from a mess of wires and saying “I have everything under control” needs to become a meme, please. It reminds me of that comic where the dog’s surrounded by fire and says “This is fine”.

- That whole scene where Bow’s ranting at Adora and then Entrapta just shows up in the background floating around outside the spaceship this absoltuely hilarious.

- “I made spacesuits for us and then I fixed the ship from space. Where I am! Aahahahaha....” Oh, I love her. Poor Bow, though.

- How can Entrapta use a blowtorch in space, though? Like... there’s no oxygen, how can she... you know what, I’ll just stop questioning the science here.

- I love the whole suspense of Catra selling Adora out at first, then remembering their childhood and changing her mind - good stuff.

- Also, I’m not crying over that childhood memory, you’re crying over that childhood memory! Did you see how little!Catra blushed when Adora said she was always going to be her friend? And the music is their childhood theme from “Promise”. I also love the callback to “Promise” in general - back then, the memories were projected by Light Hope and pushed Catra away from Adora by only showing her the worst ones. This time, Catra is remembering herself, remembers Adora being there for her and decides to protect her.

- “I’ll never say sorry to anybody, ever.” Yeah, we’ll see about that.

- And here’s one of my favourite moments of the entire season: Catra visibly feeling guilty, remembering herself and Adora playing in the hallway, then that beat of music where she changes her mind and turns around. When I first watched this episode, this was the moment where I started so cheer and said “Well, finally!” Here we go on the redemption road!

- “I wanna do that one good thing in my life. Like you said. So... come with me.” That’s another amazing moment. And the music when Glimmer takes her hand... The entire episode from here on is basically just amazing moments with amazing music.

- “Are you saving me?” “Not you... Adora.” She did it for Adora... hold me. (I do think she also did it for Glimmer, though.)

- “Even if I sent her a message to stay away, she’d still come for you, that’s just how she is.” The heartbreaking part about this is that Catra genuinely didn’t realize that Adora would also come for her.

- “There’s no one left in the entire universe who cares about me.” *cut to Adora*

- The whole scene where Catra saves Glimmer and sacrifices herself just gets to me every time. Starting with the music - it’s Promise, which played during the cliff scene in “Promise” (and will later play during Catra’s love confession in Heart Part 2).

- “Adora... I’m sorry! For everything!” 😭😭 What makes this scene work so well for me as a starting point of Catra’s redemption is that she was being completely selfless here. She wasn’t trying to gain anything out of sacrificing herself. She wasn’t asking for forgiveness, pity, or gratitude. She didn’t expect Adora to come back for her. She just wanted to keep Adora safe and let her know that she’s sorry. There were no expectations behind this apology or sacrifice. (And that’s not even getting into how she knew exactly what Horde Prime would do to her - because she saw it on Hordak earlier - and still decided it was worth it to save Adora.)

- “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Catra! Come back!”  😭😭😭😭

- The spacesuit designs are so ridiculous, but I kind of respect the show for saying “Yeah, we know this will never look realisitic anyway, so let’s just make it completely ridiculous. Ab-window for Bow? Hole for Adora’s ponytail? Let’s just do it all.”

- While I love that scene of them catching Glimmer in space, I’ve got to say it kind of makes me anxious to think about how lucky they were here. I mean, Catra’s plan was a little dumb here, sorry. Imagine if Entrapta hadn’t fixed Darla in time and they wouldn’t have been able to get to Glimmer? Imagine if Darla had been too slow? If the teleporter had been faster? Or if Bow and Adora hadn’t had spacesuits? If Glimmer hadn’t been able to survive in space for a few ‘I’m still glowing green from the teleport thingy’ seconds before Bow caught her? This ‘I’m just going to teleport her into space’ plan could have gone so wrong, just saying. (Also, why didn’t she just teleport Glimmer to Etheria? Wouldn’t that have been easier? And safer? Though granted, it wouldn’t have made as good of a story.)

- “I think Catra saved me. I think she saved us all.”  😭😭 Yes, she did! That’s my wildcat and I’m so proud of her!!!

- Can we talk about Horde Prime tilting Catra’s chin up with his foot? Everything about him is so creepy and evil, I love it.

- Catra just laughing in Horde Prime’s face... honestly, what an icon. (I also love the “What did you expect?” line. I mean seriously - what did we as viewers expect? I’m pretty sure most people expected Catra to redeem herself eventually.)

- “It doesn’t matter what you do to me. Glimmer is gone, and you will never get your hands on Adora!” She loves Adora so much I 😭

Amazing episode. Definitely one of my favourites. There’s probably way more stuff to talk about here and I only scratched the surface - but this post is getting way too long as it is.

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[cameoamalthea]

I think it's interesting how many people were wanting Jester to leave Artagan and go with the Moonweaver (who is awesome btw). I can't properly convey how relieved I am that didn't happen and that their already strong bond was made stronger and they both grew from it. Because that is how good relationships work and people are capable of changing for the better. Finding new faith worked for Fjord, but I don't believe it would have worked for Jester the same way. What they have can't be replaced.

If Artagan was forcibly taken from Jester it would have been traumatizing for Jester. 

What the Mighty Nein, and perhaps a portion of the fandom, don’t understand is that Jester is a depressed lonely person who hides it. She puts on a mask of always happy and fine, it’s ok. She’s not ok and they don’t see it. Jester is also afraid of being alone, which plays into her fear of being disliked and abandoned. 

Whether or not anyone else likes Artagan, Jester LOVES him and she has some serious attachment issues so just ripping him away from her would be super harmful.

There’s a scene in C2E19 where the party sees a shack and wants to investigate it. Jester suggests turning Frumpkin into a bird to go check it out since it’s like a mile away. Caleb does not like the idea, but then playfully says for you Fjord I will do it. Jester responds by being dramatic and pouting about him shooting her down but being willing to do it for Fjord. 

LAURA: Can Frumpkin be a bird? 

LIAM: (reluctantly) Yeah. 

TALIESIN: For a bit. 

TRAVIS: I want to check out the shack. 

LIAM: All right. For you, Fjord, I will make Frumpkin a bird. 

LAURA: Not for me, though. Caleb hates me.

SAM: We could just walk over there. It's a hassle to turn him into a bird. 

TRAVIS: Yeah. Keep your cat. 

LIAM: You are more sensitive than I would have imagined. 

LAURA: I want people to like me.

Caleb is extremely observant and although this is a light, playful scene, says something that cuts really close. “You are more sensitive than I would have imagined.” She’s being over the top and dramatic, he criticizes her, and since what she was joking about what is actually some real insecurity she kind of deflates, her voice gets real small and she says “I want people to like me.” 

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment made harder to catch by the fact everyone is talking at once and Laura is eating pizza (role-playing with your mouth full - this is not to shame her for eating, she is entitled to that pizza, but it might make it harder to pick up on the moment). However, I think this touches upon something important. 

Jester is in fact extremely insecure about being liked, and you see this with her relationship with the Traveler. Worrying that he might not like her now that she has other friends at first, and constantly needing reassurance that she’s the most important. 

There’s a brilliant thread on reddit that sums up Jester’s character as follows:

“She's a people-pleaser because she's afraid to lose people. She grew up with the only 'low resource' being people - caring, loving, laughing people. She had her mother, who definitely loves her, but that was it. Most children have scores of people, and other children! to play with. Jester didn't.

And she's afraid to lose that, at any cost. Even realizing she was manipulated, keeping Artagen is more important than standing up for herself or showing her disappointment, because she can't lose him.

Onto - Artagen. What we know:

He's openly admitted to being manipulative and selfish

More importantly: he's openly admitted to never wanting to be bored and never wanting to 'get into emotions'

This REALLY matters. Why?

Because Jester is afraid of losing everyone so she can't be what those people don't want.

Jester can't be upset in front of Artagen because he might get bored with all of her emotions and leave.

It's crazy important for her to be his favorite because, as she is helping him leave all of his followers (her biggest fear) he keeps saying he won't leave her.”

Jester has pretty serious abandonment issues. Children need the attention and support of a caregiver. RedditTotalWar made a great point on that reddit thread: “A significant withdrawal of attention is often enough to cause a child to develop abandonment issues. Children don't have the capacity to realize that some things aren't about them since they are the centers of their own universe.” So the fact Jester’s mother, who clearly loves her and is a good person, did not always have time for her and required Jester to keep her existence secret is damaging. 

Note, this is not to suggest that Marrion is a bad person or was intentionally abusive. You don’t have to be a monster to hurt a child. Disney example: In Tangled, Mother Gothel isolated Rapunzel and was an abuser who just wanted to use her. In Frozen, Anna’s Mother and Father isolated Anna out of a desire to do what they thought was best for their other daughter Elsa and to protect Anna from what they saw as the threat posed by Elsa’s magic. Anna’s parents were not intentionally abusive and loved their children, but Anna was still neglected and isolated and harmed by their actions.

To Jester, the message she got growing up was ‘Momma loves me, but she’s busy and I can’t get in the way and no one can know I exist’ which could easily be taken as ‘Momma loves me, but I’m not the most important thing to her’ or even ‘Momma loves me, but my existence makes her life harder, so maybe I’m not completely lovable since I’m a problem’. 

And while you may think, if she was that worried why would she act out and play pranks and cause trouble, the fact is that children who are insecure about being loved may self-sabotage with caregivers. You see a high rate of disruption in foster children right before adoption because the child starts exhibiting behaviors. Perhaps faced with the fear of, maybe my parental won’t love me if I cause trouble, it feels safer just deliberately causing trouble because then at least you’re the one in control rather than walking on eggshells terrified that messing up could mean abandonment. 

The fact that Jester’s prank on Lord Sharp resulted in her having to leave the only home she’s ever known and never come back under threat of death and that her Mother could not (or in her mind, would not?) protect her may have made her abandonment issues a lot worse. 

Jester is terrified of being left alone, of being abandoned. Taking away the one person who has been a constant in her life and who she has felt safe with all at once would not be good. As Laura said on her playlist “he’s always been the one person she could show her insecurities to” and losing that stable, trusted person would hurt. 

 I don’t think her relationship with Artagan is entirely healthy (it’s not healthy for a child to grow up with only one other friend and her attachment to him extreme and also he’s a selfish, manipulative Archfey - I don’t think Artagan thinks this relationship is entirely healthy). However, I do not think it would have been better for her to have him ripped away like that. Especially given the fact that the whole Moonweaver thing was her idea and she would likely blame herself for what happened. 

How devastating would that be for someone with Jester’s level of insecurity? 

The Mighty Nein, and again a portion of the fandom, may have preferred it if Jester broke up with Artagan and moved on or found a new god. Fjord’s relationship with Uk’otoa (Uk’atoa) was toxic and abusive, so the Mighty Nein are very wary of that sort of relationship. Fjord if projecting and thinks that any relationship with a powerful being that isn’t a god is dangerous. 

The truth is Jester’s relationship with Artagan isn’t really like one of cleric and god. It’s more like a personal relationship where he happens to give her divine powers.

LAURA: I take a bite of my caramel apple, and I go walking down.

MATT: You hear a crunch sound and your handshakes for a second and you look down and a mysterious secondary bite was taken out of the apple.

LAURA: (gasp) I lick the spot.

(groaning)

SAM: You're making out with your god? Gross.

MATT: They have a special relationship.

A special relationship indeed, Matt. It’s intimate, she talks to him about her crushes and asks him for advice on boys then casually confesses love to him.

LAURA: You're not jealous, are you?

MATT: "No."

LAURA: You'll always be my number one love.

MATT: "I know.”

Fjord is an orphan who was looking for parental figures. Vandren was a mentor and father figure, and it was through Vandren that Fjord gained his connection to Uk’otoa. The Wild Mother felt Motherly to Fjord and in Talks Travis said that when Matt first described the feeling his thoughts were on like have I found my Mother somehow. To Fjord religion is a divine parent, an authority figure who provides guidance and direction, and in the case of the Wild Mother love and support for him. 

Jester has never seen the Traveler as a ‘dad figure’. He’s just her best friend and based on her behavior towards him and jealousy towards his other followers, and the number of love songs on Laura’s playlist, I’m pretty convinced that Jester is IN LOVE with him. 

(I don’t know if that feeling is required. Given they grew up together with him in the form of another child and the fact Artagan is actually ancient, I think he sees her more like a little sister. This might be why he was so confused when she grabbed his face and leaned in like she was about to kiss him despite the fact that like she’s flat out told him that he’s her number one love and requires constant reassurance that she’s his favorite and acts like a schoolgirl with a very obvious crush)

And again, all of this may not be healthy or ideal for Jester. She might get hurt. However, I think in order to grow the relationship has to run it’s course no matter what happens. Artagan not only acted completely selflessly by kicking her off of him rather than face the possibility that she’d have to choose between him and or friends or be banished with him but like - he apologized to her. 

An actual, real, non-manipulative apology. He admitted he was manipulative and he’s sorry and when she tries to play it off as it’s fine, he says he doesn’t want to defend himself. He’s sorry.

That’s growth.

[passionate-reply]

Whether you’re a Superman, a judge, a mom, or a dad, we can all appreciate the avant-garde genius of Laurie Anderson, the topic of this week’s installment of Great Albums! Find out what made Anderson’s breakout hit the most unlikely chart smash of the 80s, and what the rest of this amazing LP has in store, by watching my video or reading the full transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be discussing one of the most unique and unforgettable albums around: Big Science, by Laurie Anderson. It’s very possible that you may not necessarily recognize her by name, but this album’s big hit has been riffed on and re-used many times throughout Western popular culture, so when I play it for you, it just might seem hauntingly familiar.

Music: “O Superman”

Put simply, “O Superman” is not your conventional pop hit, by any stretch of the imagination. It features little more than a sparse, barren electronic instrumental, and Anderson’s eerily vocoder-treated voice, not so much singing as acting out a one-woman stage play. It has much more in common with the avant-garde, minimalist works of 20th Century “modern classical” composers like Philip Glass and Steve Reich than it does anything you would hear on pop radio in the 1980s.

While you might assume that it entered mainstream consciousness through being used in some art film, it actually was a bona fide pop hit--particularly in Great Britain, which has always had a pronounced affinity for surprisingly weird chart entries. While the single was initially given only a small release, like most of Anderson’s earlier work, the prominent British radio DJ John Peel discovered it...and fell in love with it. And thanks to his frequent playing of it on the air, a lot of other people fell in love with it too, propelling it to #2 in the UK charts. I think it’s a testament to just how different the media landscape used to be, once upon a time in the 20th Century. Nowadays, the radio doesn’t really have room for idiosyncratic tastemakers like Peel, and the independent DJs who remain certainly don’t have the reach that Peel did. I suppose it’s the 20th Century version of sea shanties and other oddities becoming trends on social media.

But anyway, setting aside the strange legacy “O Superman” has as the world’s least likely hit single, we can appreciate it perfectly well as a moving work of art. “O Superman” is not really a pop song, but what it is is, perhaps, a desperate plea for comfort and protection. The figure, or concept, of “mother” seems to be the focus of the text, and serves as the apparent “final resort” of its insecure, searching rhetoric. We get this idea in a microcosm in the famous opening line, inspired by an aria by Jules Massenet: “O Superman, o judge, o Mom and Dad.” It’s an appeal to any and all higher powers, but culminates with perhaps the most primal, intuitive authority we can understand: our parents. Towards the end of the piece, the narrator begs to be held in the arms of “Mom,” but they’re described not as soft and warm, but “automatic,” “electronic,” and “petrochemical,” creating an uncanny conflation of innate human connections and the harshly artificial, technological conditions of modernity. Have we made the promises of technology and science into some sort of idol, looking to them for reassurance, and projecting onto them a goodwill or benevolence like a mother has for her children? Themes of high technology, as well as the search for safety and security, are found throughout the rest of the album, as is the stark, minimalist instrumentation.

Music: “From the Air”

Expanding somewhat on the references to aeroplanes found on “O Superman,” opening track “From the Air” is narrated by the captain of a doomed flight, instructing the passengers how to handle the imminent “crash landing.” It’s many people’s very worst nightmare, and plunges us straight into the sense of fearing for our lives, in a situation that’s completely beyond our control. A bold move for the very first track we hear! “From the Air” leads with somewhat plausible suggestions, like a very dated request that passengers “extinguish all cigarettes,” but gradually becomes increasingly surreal, adding to that nightmarish feeling. Anderson delivers her lines with a palpable sense of authority, that stirs you to want to obey her character even as they prove their unreliability. A taut, unresolved saxophone-driven ostinato throughout the track provides a constant sense of tension and anxiety, which certainly suits the mood. Until the end of the song, at which point it abruptly cuts off--presumably to represent the crash occurring, and the sudden deaths of those on board.

I like to think of “From the Air” as a sort of dark counterpart to “O Superman,” the latter of which is the opening track of the second side. While “O Superman” deifies technology as a source of maternalistic comfort, “From the Air” presents us with the ultimate failure of technology: slick and polished until the end, but unable to provide any real hope of meaningful security. That human desire for security is interrogated more directly on the final track of side one: “Born, Never Asked.”

Music: “Born, Never Asked”

While “Born, Never Asked” is much more laconic than tracks like “From the Air” and “O Superman,” it’s no less probing and thought-provoking, presenting us with a world of people who are, fundamentally, “free”--and yet deeply unsatisfied. “You were born,” quips Anderson, “and so you are free.” But we’re all too busy asking for a bigger answer, and some explicit, deeper meaning to our existences, that we can’t appreciate the simple freedom to live our lives however we want to, in the absence of any overt goals. The track begins by establishing a stately, handclap-driven backing, which serves to underscore the plainness or simplicity of its message, and is ultimately overtaken by a mournful violin outro--perhaps the embodiment of our emotional turmoil, as we seek the comfort of clear answers despite the fact that they never arrive. If only the world were as simple and well-defined as it seemed to be when we were children, filled with unthinking and unconditional love for our mothers!

“Born, Never Asked” asks us to question what it really means to be “free,” and whether or not it’s even satisfying or helpful to possess “freedom.” It’s worth noting that all of the pieces that comprise Big Science were chiefly intended as part of Anderson’s much longer magnum opus, entitled United States, which she completed in 1984. In that context, criticism of the value of “freedom” is perhaps also criticism of certain traditional American moral values. While “O Superman” prominently mentions “American planes,” I think the track that has the most to say about being American is the title track of the album.

Music: “Big Science”

The title track of Big Science takes us to a desolate and mostly empty landscape, defined more by its potential to be moulded into something habitable than anything it already, innately is. It’s a frigid perspective on America as terra nullius, a wasteland filled with nothing but ultra-recent and ultra-artificial capitalist “developments” as opposed to any real history or meaning. With its chilling coyote-like howls, and nods to Western movies and dependence upon cars, it can easily be contextualized as particularly American, but ultimately, the human drive to “improve” our environment through questionable (and perhaps even destructive) means is fairly universal. Much like the emotionally unsatisfying sense of freedom bestowed upon those who are born, in “Born, Never Asked,” the title track of Big Science shows us a world full of endless possibilities, but devoid of any true happiness born of those possibilities.

The term “big science” dates back to the Mid-20th Century, and has been used to describe the increasingly large scale of many significant scientific efforts, particularly those supported by world governments...and particularly, their militaries. During and after the Second World War, it became increasingly necessary for nations that wanted a place on the world stage to rope science into the military-industrial complex, especially in light of the development of atomic weaponry. Given the album’s thematic emphasis on the way we look to science and technology to provide some aegis of protection, and often in harmful or destructive ways, it’s a very fitting choice for the title.

I think that connection to the nuclear bomb is also an important key to interpreting the album’s cover art. On the cover of Big Science, we see Anderson lit very harshly from the right--so much so that her sunglasses are rendered completely white by the powerful light. While her pose is very deliberate, and perhaps even stilted, she appears to be raising her arms as though to shield herself from whatever is casting this bright light. Is Anderson perhaps portraying an atomic scientist, observing a nuclear blast with its signature burst of radiant light?

Overall, however we interpret this gesture, the black and white imagery and completely empty backdrop seem to pair well with that sparse and minimalistic instrumentation. Anderson appears on the cover with her signature costume, a solid white suit which, when paired with her short hairstyle, gives her a somewhat androgynous appearance. It also looks a bit like a labcoat, often worn by scientists and doctors--figures who culturally embody the principle of benevolent authorities backed by the power of technology and science.

Whenever artists who only briefly felt the spotlight of mainstream success are discussed, it can be tempting to ask whether or not such figures “deserved” more or better. In the case of Anderson, though, she never expected “O Superman” to become the breakout hit that it did, and never followed it up with anything actively pursuing the pop charts. In the wake of her most famous work, Anderson went right back to doing what she had been doing: making great, but totally avant-garde, art. She’s a figure of “art music,” and the “art world,” through and through, performing her elaborate multimedia works at museums, appearing in a number of festival-circuit art films, and accepting honourary degrees. Anderson has had a perfectly successful career, dwelling precisely in the realm of her choosing, and I don’t think there’s any better outcome than that. If you like Big Science, you’ll find plenty more striking and evocative works throughout the rest of her long and ongoing career.

Music: “Sharkey’s Day”

My favourite track on Big Science is “Sweaters.” With a Celtic-sounding melody, a grating fiddle, and perhaps the most vocally hated musical instrument of all time, the bagpipes, “Sweaters” is a dirge about an ancient subject: falling out of love. But despite its backward-looking folk setting, the jump from “I no longer love your eyes” to “I no longer love your sweaters” anchors it into the realm of the totally mundane...if not banal. Overall, though, what I think really makes it stand out on the album is its sense of levity. As I’ve discussed earlier, Big Science is loaded with really heavy themes about technology, Americana, and the meaning of life...so a song that’s not only about a romantic relationship, but also about sweaters, pens, and pencils, jammed into the middle of the first side, really feels like a sort of palate cleanser while you’re listening to this. That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “Sweaters”

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #101: Rama

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re making the number 1 member of the Arcade hatedom, Rama! If you’ve seen my previous Indian heroes you know this build is also going to get a bit funky, but by the end of it you’ll have a cool sword you can throw around, the ability to fight off demons, and a monkey army.

Check out Rama’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: One Strike Man

Race and Background

We know we had a thing going with Arjuna and Karna being Genasi, but Vishnu’s more of a general god than a themed one, so we have to be basic and go Aasimar on this one. Specifically Scourge Aasimar, because you’re not edgy and can’t fly. We’re also using the new Tasha’s rules about races to swap some bonuses around, so you’re going to get +1 Constitution and +2 Intelligence instead of charisma. You also get some Darkvision, Celestial Resistance to necrotic and radiant damage, the Light cantrip, and Healing Hands to heal a creature as an action once per long rest. Trust me, you’ll need it for the early levels.

Like a lot of servants, you’re a Noble, gaining History and Persuasion proficiencies. 

Ability Scores

This build pretty much uses every score, so we had to make some tough cuts. Make your Strength the highest score, you’re a saber, you should be good at sabing. Second is Wisdom, you were born wise, which is a pretty amazing feat. I’m not sure how the figured that out before you could talk, but it’s still cool. Third is your Charisma, your star-crossed love transcends the bonds of the universe and has literally saved your life on occasion. Your Dexterity isn’t as high as I’d like it-we need it for multiclassing, but we’ll get it bumped up in time. Also, I’m willing to be generous here and say you’re wearing medium armor, that’s kind of a breastplate. Your Intelligence is also lower than I’d like, but that’s also getting a boost from your racial bonuses, so I guess it’s fine. Unfortunately, that means we’re dumping Constitution. It’s not fun, but it’s also the only score we aren’t actively using. Don’t worry, we’ll get it up into at least neutral territory as soon as possible.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: Fighters are pretty cool, and starting out as one gives you proficiency in Strength and Constitution saves, as well as the Animal Handling and Perception skills. A monkey may be your mortal enemy, but you also command an army of them.

You get a fighting style, and Dueling will make your one handed attacks a bit stronger so you can keep a hand open for spells. You also get a Second Wind for another way to heal yourself as a bonus action.

2. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge, tacking an extra action onto one of your turns once per short rest. This level is pretty light, so I’ll also take a second to say that we’re using a Trident as your weapon in this build, for reasons that will become apparent in a couple levels. It’s unorthodox, but you’re used to making swords out of other weapons, so it shouldn’t be that big a deal.

3. Fighter 3: I’m not going to beat around the bush here, you’re an Eldritch Knight. That means you’re learning some Spells, most of which will be abjuration or evocation and all of which will use your Intelligence to cast. You also gain a Weapon Bond, preventing you from being disarmed while conscious, and you can summon your weapon as a bonus action from anywhere in the plane. You also get your Radiant Consumption, which deals radiant damage to all creatures in a radius around you, including you. You can also add radiant damage to one attack per turn. The transformation lasts up to a minute, and you can use it once per long rest.

But you’re probably interested in those spells, right? Message is just useful, Sword Burst and Shield will protect you until we can get that constitution mess sorted, Find Familiar will help you get your first monkey friend, and Burning Hands is also there.

4. Fighter 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to round up your Constitution and bring your Dexterity into multiclassing range. Also, now that we’ve got a way to get your weapon back, we’ll switch out our old fighting style for Thrown Weapon Fighting as a part of your Martial Versatility. This allows you to draw a throwing weapon as part of an attack, and you deal more damage when throwing them. Who needs artificers and their returning weapons when you’ve got this?

You also learn the Snare spell to get some less magical monkey friends.

5. Fighter 5: Your Extra Attack lets you make two attacks per action. We’ll be seeing this feature a lot, but it doesn’t stack from multiple classes.

6. Paladin 1: You’re kind of literally a god, so this is something of an inevitability. You get a Divine Sense to help you track down Ravana, and can Lay on Hands for yet another way to heal yourself or other party members.

7. Paladin 2: Paladins also get a fighting style, so grab Dueling again, for the same reasons we got it in the first place. You can also cast and prepare another set of Spells, using your Charisma to cast. If you’re sick of casting spells though, you can also use your spell slots for Divine Smites, adding extra radiant damage to a melee attack, and even more to fiends and the undead.

Some first level spells to look out for are Command for some of the same reason as Arjuna and Karna- if someone of sufficient power says something’s going to happen, it’s going to happen. You can also use Heroism to help your party even more and Divine Favor to give you a bit of a smite even on thrown attacks.

8. Paladin 3: Your defining trait is your endless search for your wife, so the Devotion oath is a pretty solid pick. You get some Oath Spells about beating up demons that are always prepared for you, as well as two ways to Channel Divinity. Sacred Weapon adds your charisma modifier to attack rolls with a weapon, and turns the weapon magical for the duration. This also ends if you stop holding the weapon, so again, it doesn’t fit with throwing it around. You can also Turn the Unholy, forcing Fiends and Undead that fail a wisdom saving throw to run away until it takes damage.

We’re already eight levels in, but we have like one monkey! That’s not an army! That’s unacceptable, someone should do something about that.

9. Ranger 1: If we want animal sidekicks, Ranger’s the best option. At first level you get a skill proficiency, so grab Stealth so you can sneak up on your arch-monkey-enemies. You also have a Favored Foe, marking a creature upon attacking it for up to a minute with concentration. Then, once per turn you deal an extra 1d4 damage to that enemy. You can mark enemies this way a number of times per long rest equal to your proficiency bonus. You’re also a Deft Explorer, doubling your proficiency in Animal Handling. You can literally talk to the little bastards, that’ll give you quite the edge.

10. Ranger 2: Being a second level ranger nets you a third fighting style; the Archery style gives your ranged attacks (including thrown weapons) a +2 to hit. You also get a third Spell list, which uses Wisdom to cast. Grab Longstrider and Zephyr Strike for ways to stay mobile and still deal damage.

11. Ranger 3: Be honest, you thought we were going beastmaster, didn’t you? Like we said earlier, one monkey does not an army make, and Swarmkeeper fairs much better with multiclassing anyway. You have a Primal Awareness letting you Speak with Animals either as a normal spell or once per long rest you can cast it for free. Swarmkeepers also get Swarmkeeper Magic, which is just an extended spell list. We’ll get into those with the regular spell you’re learning this level. Last but not least is the feature swarmkeepers are named for, the Gathered Swarm. You now have countless pygmy marmosets swarming over your body at all times. That’s a class feature, I am so sorry. It’s not all bad news though, because after hitting a creature with any attack, your swarm can deal extra damage, push the target 15′ in any direction if they fail a strength save, or move you 5′ in any direction. Save yourself a bonus action by throwing a weapon at an enemy, closing the gap with your swarm, then getting it back the old fashioned way!

You get Mage Hand as part of being a swarmkeeper, and it’s flavored as Literally Just a Monkey. You also learn Faerie Fire this way, and your normal spell this level is Animal Friendship. If they’re going to be crawling all over you, it’s best to stay on their good side.

12. Paladin 4: Now that we finally have your base kit set up, we can revisit some of your classes. Use this ASI to round up your Strength for stronger hits, and Charisma for more and better paladin spells. This is also a secret tool that will help us out in a little bit.

13. Paladin 5: The extra attack you get this level is a lie; it doesn’t stack with your fighter extra attack. The good news is you get second level spells this level as well, so it’s not a complete waste. You get Lesser Restoration and Zone of Truth as oath spells.

14. Paladin 6: Our last stop in the paladin class gives you an Aura of Protection, increasing all your saving throws (as well as any ally within 10 feet of you) by your charisma modifier.

15. Ranger 4: Since we don’t have to worry about your concentration saves anymore, we can just go for more health. Use this ASI to get the Tough feat, for an extra 2 HP per level.

16. Ranger 5: Once again, you get another useless extra attack, and once again you also get second level spells. You can Summon Beast to make a monkey that will be pretty scary when you get a fourth level spell slot at 17th level. You can also make Webs, or use Beast Sense once a day for free. Don’t ask what the webs are made out of.

17. Ranger 6: Your Favored Foe damage ramps up to 1d6, and you’re now Roving, meaning your movement speed increases, and you gain a climbing and swimming speed. Monkeys are pretty agile, you need to be able to keep up with them.

18. Fighter 6: We’re ending this build where we began, with the fighter class. Use this ASI for even more Charisma for better saves, more spells, and a more winning smile.

19. Fighter 7: Seventh level eldritch knights know War Magic, meaning that if you use a cantrip as your main action, you can still attack as a bonus action. I’m not sure why you’d message someone in the middle of battle, but here you go.

You also get second level spells, for the third time. Any evocation or abjuration spell is good here, but I chose Gust of Wind because it’s hard to throw weapons around if enemies are getting close to you.

20. Your capstone feature is another ASI, so grab the Piercer feat to round up your Dexterity and make your sword just a little more deadly. Once per turn, you can reroll a piercing damage die, and your critical hits deal a little more piercing damage.

Pros:

Despite your patchwork class levels, one thing that really shines through is your support abilities. Your Aura of Protection offers a solid +3 to all saves within 10′ of you, and you have multiple ways to heal other party members in a pinch.

You can also deal pretty dependable damage, thanks to your multitude of fighting styles mixing together to overcome your low ability scores. Despite having a strength of 16, you can aim your throws like you have a 20, and deal damage like you have a 24. You also have plenty of ways to incrementally add damage to each attack. Adding Favored Foe, smites, and your swarm damage to your attack racks up damage quickly.

You’ve got solid movement options, both for yourself and enemies. Being able to shove enemies around and into hazards with your swarm is a huge game changer.

Cons:

Eldritch Knights use their bonus action to resummon their weapon. Rangers use it to apply Favored Foe. Paladins use it for smites. Basically what I’m saying is your bonus action is super crowded, and it’s nearly impossible for you to go a round in combat without either holding back or making a tough decision about what to use it on.

If you couldn’t tell from the introduction, you depend on a ton of ability scores, to the point that constitution was the safest thing to dump early on. Even now, most of your spells aren’t particularly strong.

A lot of this build was about making a throwing weapon powerful, and thrown weapons don’t gel with paladins at all. It breaks your Channel Divinity and can’t be used with smites, limiting your power.

[anti-anti-stevinel]

What the fuck is the deal with "ankle-beez"? They seem to be the biggest Steven Universe blog around. Every other SU blog I know (even the world's only proshipper Connverse normie, picturejasper20) reblogs from them.

They're also the world's biggest hypocrite.

They make analysis posts about the real message of SU, about love and forgiveness, against revenge and that sort of stuff.

At the same time, they are a hardcore anti-shipper bully.

They sent me gore and death threats last year when I was 17, for shipping Stevinel. Said "yer a pedo kill yerself!!11" (okay, that's paraphrased).

What's wrong with Stevinel?

Is it that Steven is "a minuh and not ready for sexual relationships"? Then, why is Connie, a human fourteen-year-old in-universe, ready for sexual relationships when it's with Steven? Why is Steven ready for it with Connie?

This leads me to believe it's the stated "aGe GaP!!11". In that case, Greg/Rose, which ankle-beez likes, is child rape (he wuz twenty an she wuz twentythousand!) That's fucking stupid. Kataang and Bubbline are "child rape" too, by those standards. Stating an exaggerated number next to a supernatural, non-aging, cartoon character does not child rape make. Is Katara a "necrophile" for having kids with Aang, a so-called "hundred-and-forty-something-year-old" character? Because 140-year-old men are all known to be dead? Is everyone who's read the Bible a Child Rapist™️, because the eternal, ageless God impregnated the thirteen-year-old Virgin Mary, as part of the biblical canon leading to the birth of Our Saviour Jesus Christ?

Also, by the same fucking stupid standards they use to call Spinel an "aDulT", Steven is one too. Gems don't fucking age. They're robots. If I have a 200-year-old baby doll, it's still a baby doll. Dolls don't age. Since Steven's gemstone (and with it, Pink's/his memories) has been around for 20000 years, he is "an adult", an "elderly man".

That brings me to the next point: one cannot "ship pedophilia". I wish I could "ship" mental disorders. I wish my autism, ADHD, OCD, Tourette's, depression and paranoia were as simple as fictional "ships".

More or less, "pedo" hysteria is NOT about protecting chilluns. When a child is murdered, nobody bats an eye. When child-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the same applies. Also, when an adult is raped. It's not about healing sexually abused children, or preventing rape. When adult-on-child sexual abuse occurs, the emphasis in media is never about helping the kid. It's always about torturing and murdering the "pedo" (sexual abuser). Basically, because nobody cares when there's no "pedo" to punish, it's not about protecting children, it's about hating people with mental disorders. Apparently, because I turned 18 two days ago, I lose my human right not to be raped.

What "paedophilia" actually is, is a mental disorder characterised by a greater level of arousal towards prepubescent individuals to pubescent ones. You cannot support or oppose it - you cannot be convicted for it or commit it - it's a disorder. Something you're pretty much born with and can't change. Conflating it with rape is like conflating "schizophrenia" with serial murder. While schizophrenic individuals have a higher murder risk compared to the general population, nobody ever says "commit schizophrenia" when talking about murder.

Fandom discourse is not a PhD. You cannot diagnose me with a disorder from the DSM-5 for writing the wrong fanfiction. You cannot convict me of a crime for it, either.

The most common anti argument that fanfic/hentai/whatever "encourages pedophilia". You cannot encourage a disorder. I will not magically sprout mental illness from reading fanfic. If you mean it ""encourages child rape"", if I were to rape someone, I could not blame reading a fanfic. Rape is caused by far deeper issues than having read a stupid fanfic.

Rick/Morty is canon in the multiverse, and Morty is a fictional teenager (who wishes incest porn had more mainstream appeal) with Rick, his equally fictional grandfather. So, who is raped by this? Nobody. Again, if you rape someone, you can't say Rick x Morty incest fanfic made you do it.

ALL ships are fine. Even stupid shit like Rick/Morty. Stevinel, though, isn't even of that kind. It's literally no worse than Bubbline, Kataang and Gregrose, all of which are canon to their shows.

So, what is it? "She """tried""" to kill him"? Strange. When Steven lets his shield down, Spinel could just blow him to fucking bits with that city-sized, injector-smashing fist of hers. She doesn't. SU's definition of "try" means "stop yourself". "Try" suggests someone else has to stop you with force, and that didn't happen, in which case, Steven "tried" to kill Greg in Mr. Universe, White (and with her, every Gem) in Homeworld Bound, and Connie in Buddle Buddies and every episode where he gets Connie into fights, and, and EVERYONE in Laser Light Cannon, Little Graduation and I am My Monster. He also "actually murdered" Jasper in Fragments by the standards (mind you, shattering isn't lethal and the Diamonds did nothing wrong).

Anti-shippers have implanted this stupid idea that non-aging things age as humans into my head. The idea is there to virtue-signal against MUH EBIL PEEDOUGHS. Now, I have paranoid thoughts about being a child rapist when I cuddle naked with a pillow that's been manufactured one year ago. Pillows don't age. But, in antis' heads, they do.

Why am I supposed to think of Spinel as an elderly woman? The character who is shorter, less mature and higher-pitched than Steven, sobs like a baby, plays peekaboo and gets adopted at the end of the movie?

It just disturbs me, honestly, how anklebeez can understand the show's message against violence and for healing, while literally murdering real children (and adults) for the rights of fictional ones, by bullying into suicide.

Why are they so popular? Anyway, I accidentally got carried away and wrote a masterpost when I meant for a quick ask. Hope you appreciate it.

Also, what determines whether a cartoon character is okay to "sexualise" or not?

Stated number? Then I can draw a stickman with a dick, then write the number 15 next to him, then you're a Child Rapist™️ for having looked at the image?

Height? Then is why is R34 of Madeline from Celeste, Sans and Amethyst, okay, when it's not okay for Steven and Hat Kid?

The word "kid"? Then, kill any teenager with a crush on a cartoon of Kid Cudi, I guess?

Don't harass ankle-beez. It's not worth it. Revenge is pointless. Never, though, have I been so confused by someone's self-contradictions.

Seriously.

Wow, this is huge, I didn’t know they allowed asks to get this long now, lol.

Um, but no comment on all of this since it’s just a rant, lol. But I don’t disagree.

[gameofdrarry]

Wizards Hearts Recs: Vacation!Fic

Wizards Hearts was a four-month-long Drarry reading fest. Players were given a playing deck of 52 tropes, and were asked to find 52 different fics to read and comment on to fill their decks. To prevent the same few fics from being read, fics were restricted to only being used for the game three times before being considered ineligible for further points. The tropes and submissions list can be found here.

Check out the masterlist of fics for this trope below the cut!

📜 Our Dreams, Our Pride by ahhhnorealnamesallowed Rated:  Mature Words:  10319 Tags: Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Healer Draco Malfoy, Healer Harry Potter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Holidays, a very british coach holiday, Ireland, POV Alternating, Swearing, discussion of sex and sexual acts, Slice of Life, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, (or very little plot), Magic University - Freeform, Post-Secondary, Getting Together, Established Relationship Summary:  For six years, Harry has promised Draco a 'big thing' for their anniversary. This year is the year Harry is going to make it happen, even if he does so in a very Harry Potter way. Including last-minute vacation planning, some very sassy old people, a coach bus, and less anniversary sex than expected. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Staying Afloat by Scarshavestories Rated:  General Words:  3138 Tags: Cruise Ships, Holidays, Established Relationship, Vacation, Banter, Slice of Life Summary:  Harry and Draco are heading off on a Muggle cruise in the sunny Caribbean. Will their relationship survive their first holiday as a couple, or will the week end in disaster and Obliviation? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Momenti Diversi, Day Five by zarah5 Rated:  Mature Words:  11662 Tags: Happy Ending, Blow Job, Future Fic, Post-Canon Summary:  In which you'll find the Italian sun, freshly resolved sexual tension, a reluctant Harry and a persuasive Draco. (Post-Hogwarts, aftermath of war.) ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 A Holiday in Provence by dracoismytrashson (JGogoboots) Rated:  Explicit Words:  32213 Tags: Harry Potter Epilogue Compliant, Post-Hogwarts, Older Characters, Divorced Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Divorced Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter's Birthday, Drunken Flirting, Resolved Sexual Tension, Blow Jobs, Rimming, First Time, Anal Sex, Bisexual Harry Potter, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Implied Switching, Outdoor Sex, H/D Food Fair 2018, Draco Malfoy Speaks French Summary:  Harry Potter is turning 50 years old and feeling lonelier than ever. Divorced, retired, and learning he’s not quite as straight as he thought he was, Harry reluctantly accepts a birthday gift from his friends for a week’s stay at an idyllic French vineyard. Too bad Hermione and Ron neglected to mention that the owner of the winery happens to be a certain quick-witted blond Slytherin… ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 And She Kissed the Moon by laughingd0g Rated:  Mature Words:  6613 Tags: Camping, Pureblood Traditions, Harry and Draco are betrothed, (they are disgustingly happy together), Friendly Bets, Kissing, Banter, Pansy is gorgeous and she knows it, Ginny is not impressed (yes she is), creative use of the disillusionment charm, Campfires, Star/moongazing, frenemies to lovers Summary:  Who thought it would be a good idea to bring Parkinson camping? (Malfoy.) From the beginning it’s been “my nails” this and “blisters” that. So Ginny makes a bet with her. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Slowly We Unfurl by spookywoods Rated:  Explicit Words:  13705 Tags: Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Rimming, Anal Sex, Vacation Summary:  Draco wanted to go to Greece. He would have loved Greece. But the group vacation to Norway doesn’t go quite as expected when Potter falls into an enchanted lake. Or, the one where a little push (into a lake) is all these two oblivious men need. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 in His name by M0stlyVoid Rated:  Explicit Words:  6691 Tags: Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religion Kink, Religious Fanaticism, Churches & Cathedrals, Demon Summoning, Demonic Possession, Exorcisms, Other: See Story Notes, Wine, Rituals, Oral Sex, Prostitution Summary:  Something Dark is gathering along the Camino di Francesco, and Draco Malfoy is the only one qualified to deal with it. He insists on Potter coming along. For protection, of course, no other motive—why do you ask? ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Starkissed by Zigster Rated:  Explicit Words:  32631 Tags: Digital Art, Fated Markings, Tattoos, But Not Tattoos, Italy, Venice, Vacation, Beaches, Crashing Waves, Deception, Intrigue, Carnevale di Venezia, Muggle Photography, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Body Worship, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Rimming, Enthusiastic Giving of Head, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Tattooed Harry Potter, Pining Harry Potter, Harry Potter is Obsessed with Draco Malfoy, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy With Pink Hair, Original Characters as Draco's Flatmates, They Have Lots of Plants, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, H/D Sex Fair 2020 Summary:  “Your tattoos!” The intruder says, boldly stepping over Ron’s chaise and crossing in front of Hermione to get to Harry, eyes wide and hungry. Harry immediately sits up, pulling the towel draped across the back of his chair down over his shoulders. “No! Don’t cover them. They’re beautiful.” Harry hopes an indulgent trip abroad will help shake him out of the doldrums of his life. What he finds once he gets to Venice is more than he ever expected. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Reunion by wordsphoenix Rated:  Not Rated Words:  52622 Tags: Unexpected reunion with a tinge of career fair, vacation fic, holiday fic, tragically it's Thanksgiving, NaNoWriMo 2019, Harry and Draco on vacation, Family reunion in the lovely suburbs of Dallas, Established Relationship, road trip at the beginning too because why not Summary:  Harry hasn't seen Dudley in years, but they have been exchanging Christmas Cards. And Dudley wants him to come stay. Which is fine, really, Harry just has to fly over an ocean and bring Draco for moral support and meet the whole extended family because they're doing Thanksgiving and he's always wanted to see America, anyway. Might as well. Introducing the fantastic the spectacular the wonderful ELLA DURSLEY, four-year-old extraordinaire, destroyer of worlds, etc, etc. Almost no magic at all because it would be a little hard to explain to a four-year-old, astonishing intelligence aside. Penny is the Greatest Mom. Blanket TW for general panic and Harry thinking about his childhood. Minor TW for anxiety and eating disorders, both mentioned in chapter 6. Lots of Harry processing emotions. Also some sweariness and mentions of sexytimes. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 100,000 Galleons by bixgirl1 Rated:  Explicit Words:  28289 Tags: Travel, Seduction, Pining, Oblivious Harry, Falling In Love, Draco's bad at Muggle things, He keeps trying though, Humor, wanking, Voyeurism, (sort of), light D/s elements, Dirty Talk, Bottom Harry, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming Summary:  When a weekend with Harry gets purchased at a Bachelor charity auction by Malfoy, he's sure the trip is going to be filled with disaster. And it is. It really is. Just... maybe not in the ways he thought. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 NEVER VISIT by JET_Playin Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  7994 Tags: Fluff, I'm Sorry, Tumblr Prompt, HP: EWE, Post-Hogwarts, Travel, Underage Drinking, By US standards Summary:  Prompt: On everyone’s 18th birthday they receive a letter from their future selves. Some receive long messages about their future lovers or messages about changes they would have made. Yours contains nothing but a small list of locations and the words, “NEVER VISIT”. Of course, Harry doesn't trust the letter... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Tournesol by meandminniemcg Rated:  Teen and Up Words:  1567 Tags: Post hogwarts EWE, France (Country), Coffee Shops, Vacation, Mention of Mental Health Issues, But balanced out with fluff, Getting Back Together, Demisexual Harry Potter Summary:  Harry hates vacations, they give too much chance to think of his losses. But sometimes vacations are a time to be lucky in finding the right coffeeshop... ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Cooling Down by prolix (shal) Rated:  Explicit Words:  3026 Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Temperature Play, Ice Play, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Praise Kink, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Dirty Talk, Alcohol, Established Relationship, Vacation, Taste, Touch, TasteofSmut 2020, Beach Holidays, Greece, POV Harry Potter Summary:  Harry needs to relax. Draco needs to cool off. Together, with a bit of ice, they manage to do just that. ❤️ Read on AO3

📜 Kiss Me In Barcelona by artiata Rated:  Explicit Words:  6467 Tags: Drarry, Smut, Gay Sex, Kissing, make out, explicit - Freeform, Vegan Harry, Vegan Harry Potter, Vacation, Aurors, Slow Burn, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, handjobs, barcelona, Kingsley is a matchmaker, he is also sort of a little shit, but we still respect and love him because yeah Summary:  If you want to bicker like children, you'll be treated like children. Of course, that's if you punish your children by magically binding their wrists together for three weeks, then send them off to Barcelona for 'bonding purposes' ❤️ Read on AO3

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

               Mitsuka Yamamoto, who is known by no other name,                              a 21 year old daughter of Tsukiyomi.                               She is a designer at For the Fairest                            and a hotline volunteer at Bohdisattva.

FC NAME/GROUP: Yu Jimin – Karina / aespa CHARACTER NAME: Mitsuka Yamamoto AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: April 11, 2000 PLACE OF BIRTH: Chiba City, Chiba Prefecture, Kanto region, Honshu, Japan OCCUPATION: designer at For the Fairest, hotline volunteer at Bohdisattva Counseling Center HEIGHT: 1.67m DEFINING FEATURES:

A beauty mark on the left side of her chin, under her lips’ left corner

Big, almond shape, sharp eyes; shiny long hair, lips with a rounded Cupid’s bow

PERSONALITY: Mitsuka is, first and foremost a sensitive, creature. She’s compassionate, empathetic, and openly affectionate to almost all living beings, probably except for cockroaches and rats. Most of the time, she’s the mom friend in the group who takes delight in taking care of others, showering them with compliments, and being there when the time is rough. Once she deems someone is worth her time and attention, she will be the ride-or-die type of companion, and they can rest assured that no force in the world could shake her commitment for them.

 An artist at heart, Mitsuka is highly creative and self-motivated. She never hesitates to express her avant-garde ideas, also constantly encourages others to express themselves freely. While appearing to be wild and eccentric at times, she’s exceptionally good at reading people and is quick to set boundaries, mostly to protect herself from potential evil intents. She’s got the same protective energy around the people she cares for, for one of her worst nightmares is seeing others in pain or danger without being able to help them out.

This Japanese demigoddess does not like to be ordered around and will give intense responses both physically and mentally if forced. Not fonding of any sort of confrontations, she will avoid getting into arguments or any form of conflicts at all costs. If she is hurt, Mitsuka tends to withdraw and keep silent rather than directly verbalizing her feelings. In extreme cases, she will forget the person’s existence rather than waiting for any apologies. Having said that, when she’s forced to fight, she can be formidable.

HISTORY: TW: mention of death

“It’s the night of a full moon, when I met your father, under a wisteria tree.” Miyoung smiled gently as she looked at Mitsuka, her eldest daughter, who was sitting across from her with eyes wide open in doubt.

“But you said you met dad at an international conference?”

Miyoung shook her head, her tender smile was intact, although there was a louder command for her daughter’s attention implied in her voice. “We’re not talking about your elder brother’s dad, Mitsuka.”

To the twenty-one-year-old Mitsuka, nothing could hold a candle to Paris in summer, when the city’s beauty is at its peak, and life is just an ethereal painting of happiness. At first, it looked intimidating, how perfect everyone and everything in this city of lights, love, and fashion appeared to be. But at the end of the day, its glamourous culture and historical legacies are why she left Japan, despite her father’s deep disappointment and her mother’s great worries.

Being born and brought up in Chiba city, Mitsuka was a rather normal kid. Her family wasn’t the wealthiest in their neighborhood, but they had a two-story private house with a garage and a lovely garden in a high-security residential area, and it only took about half an hour driving to her father’s brewery located in Tokyo.

Her mother, Lee Miyoung, had traveled back and forth between Korea and Japan for her marketing business. She met Mr. Suda Yamamoto at a business conference, and he asked for her mother’s hand while she was in her third month of pregnancy, a year after his first wife’s death. Unlike most of her friends and their fathers, Mitsuka and hers had never truly got along. She didn’t remember receiving much affection or attention from him, partly because he was indeed busy all the time, and probably because she preferred to stay in her own world.

Makoto, her father’s only son from his first marriage, had always been the superstar in the family. Even though she couldn’t help but envying Makoto sometimes, she quite liked him because of his patience and kindness. Sadly, they couldn’t spend much time together, for Makoto’s study and extracurricular schedules were crazily hectic, and he usually looked exactly like their father whenever he came home after work, totally exhausted.

One night, Makoto stopped coming home. A drunk driver took his life away, when it was only one month before the national university entrance exam took place. For an eight-year-old girl, seeing her father bawling his eyes out next to her brother’s coffin was terrifying. It was also the only time she saw her father cried. After that, she rarely saw any signs of emotions on his face but occasional frowns.

Mitsuka’s adolescence was generally peaceful, except for throwing fists at some bullies at school from time to time, and constant confrontations with her father about her dream of being a fashion designer.

“He’s just afraid that you won’t be able to make a living with that job,” Miyoung explained to Mitsuka the reason behind her father’s vehement opposition to her wish, to which Mitsuka replied without a second of hesitation.

“He’s just afraid that no one will take care of his brewery,” she corrected her mother, for the first and only time in her whole eighteen years of life. “And designing is not just a job, it’s my passion, mom. It’s what I’m living for.”

Since her pre-teen years, Mitsuka had already learned to make clothes, starting from the clothing for Mini, her family’s cat. Her targets soon expanded to small accessories such as scarves and handkerchiefs for herself and her friends, and at the age of sixteen, she started her small business of making cosplay costumes and cosplay makeup for local clients. It was still a humble start compared to some other starlets in the industry, but fortunately, it was enough for her to win a scholarship to study fashion designing in Paris.

Due to her younger brother’s devastating case, her parents were adamant that she should never dream of going to Paris, or even out of the town without their permission. Mitsuka, for the only time in her life, told her parents a great lie, that she would be obedient enough to give up the scholarship, stay in Chiba, and try to get to the business major that her father wanted her to study. Meanwhile, she secretly packed her bags. Then, in one late evening, with the help of some of her close friends, she secretly fled to the airport and took her flight to Paris, leaving a long apologizing note to her parents.

The moment she landed in France’s capital, her phone blew up with texts and calls and voice mails from her parents, especially from her mother. The next thing she knew was her mother barged into her dormitory and almost flooded her room with tears and begs for her to come back.

After hours of comforting and persuading and finally threatening, Mitsuka managed to stay. However, from the moment she sent her mother off back to Japan, she couldn’t go through a day without picking up her mother’s calls or at least answering her messages, which turned out to be her best remedy to cope with the pressure of living alone in a big city whose language and culture she was so fascinated but still very much a stranger to.

Three years of hardship has proved to be fruitful. She earned the degree with flying colors and a thought-out plan for the next steps. Her mother, being the best mother on earth, took a long flight to have a cozy celebration dinner with her dear daughter. But besides celebrating her daughter’s graduation, Miyoung had another reason to pick a quiet, rather seclusive restaurant for them this time.

“I guess now is the best time to let you know the truth,” Miyoung looked into her daughter’s sparkling eyes, smiling a woman whose biggest secret is finally revealed. From that expression, Mitsuka dared to guess that whatever her mother was about to say, it was going to be ultimately important.

“Mitsuka, you’re not Suda Yamamoto’s biological daughter. Your father is Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto, the moon god, and that means you are a moon demigoddess.”

“...”

“...”

“Okay, I am… WHAT?!?”

---

[ So that’s why I’m here, in Mount Phoenix. ]

Mitsuka finishes her diary entry with a small drawing of a phoenix’s figure below the final sentence. As she reads the long pages again, Mitsuka still hardly believes what is written is true, that she’s a child of Tsukuyomi the moon god, and that said moon god is right here on the island, in a human vessel, probably isn’t aware of her existence at all. But again, she’s indeed allowed to access the island as a Japanese demigoddess, has just done cleaning up and decorating her apartment, and has got accepted to work at two jobs – one for her dream and one for her hobby. Things sound even better than the best life she’s dreamt of in Paris.

[ But we will see. ]

PANTHEON: Japanese CHILD OF: Tsukuyomi POWERS:

Lunar Solidification: She’s able to solidify moonlight into tangible items of her wish, from a hairpin to a sword. The quality and object lifetime is depended on how much energy and concentration she’s spent on creating them.

Lunar Empowerment: Her moods and physical health are influenced by the moon cycle, as she will be more lively and physically stronger when getting in contact with moonlight, and will be exceptional jovial, even hyperactive, during full moon periods.

Lunar Healing: She’s able to heal herself and others using the moon’s energy. She can only perform this power at full moon nights.

STRENGTHS:

She’s selfless and she has a penchant for spreading her love, attention, and care around, even to strangers and stray animals.

She can read people well, and often uses what she’s learned for self-protection and self-adjustment rather than attacking others.

A feisty lady, she knows what she wants and how to gets it, mostly in the most peaceful way possible.

She has a good aesthetic sense and a gift for visual arts, so she’s willing to help beautify almost everything around her, sometimes even without being asked.

WEAKNESSES:

She can get hurt quite easily if she deems her love and care are rejected. At such times, she tends to withdraw to her shell and sulk rather than communicating directly.

Her moods can and will change in a matter of seconds; she’s learning to control her emotions better

She tends to have emotional outbursts, or nervous breakdowns from time to time, especially during New moon periods.

It’s easy for her to feel lonely, and she intends to get attached to people, animals, places, or anything she likes quite fast

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XXIX: Mother of the Forest

When I received the call, an open refrigerator door hummed as its light leaked through to the dim space that was my apartment. Its light chill came as a breeze while I placed a bag of grapes within. Automatic, robotic, subconscious movements: standing in place, pivoting from one item to the next. I once heard that every seven years, the human body becomes anew, the old self having died out. There was a faint memory of a self of mine, a few deaths ago, long before the idea of having children ever came to pass, who stood and bagged groceries for minimum wage, and wondering how she would balance work and getting through high school.

In that same moment, I repeated that past life, in a more private setting. Just an hour prior, I had been the customer in line at the checkout counter. The woman behind me who I assumed to be one life older than I, arguing with the cashier over an expired coupon. Her spittle flew over the counter, and the scrawny and zoned out worker covered his face with the back of his arm as a means to protect himself.

I’m better than that. I’m not that kind of person, I often told myself, although if I had any sense of honesty, I often was. Something about the desire to be right, even when you know you don’t have a case, held such a sweet and sour taste; some of the grapes in the fridge had already spoiled from my last grocery visit.

My hand reached for the bottle of cranberry juice, but it soon became out of reach as my phone vibrated right beside it. There was a disconnect – a momentary hesitation – where I stood in place.

Just put that juice away, then answer it, my thoughts buzzed and scraped across my ears. Who was I to deny them? I had no expectations that the call would amount to anything of substance. If I had to guess, it might have been my boss, ready to beg and guilt trip me into working on one of my days off. That was a foolish decision, as I didn’t even notice the name on display on the screen. If I had, I would have picked up right away.

So it buzzed. Twice. On the third buzz, the refrigerator door swung closed and I picked up the phone. That was when I saw the name on the phone and a magnetic pull from below sent all the blood in me to sink down to the tip of my soles. When I tried to speak, I thought I would only manage a gasping breath. But instead, it was a normal, if gasping, voice:

“Demetria? Is that you?”

Not since I last heard from her, several months back, did I ever think I would hear from her again. No, maybe that was unrealistic. It wasn’t that I didn’t think I would hear from her at all: a simple hi every now and then sent through text, happy mother’s day or happy birthday messages. Those were the least (or most) I could hope for. But what it was instead was a belief that she had gone down the same path of the rest of my children and was too busy with her own life to think much of me.

So when she told me the truth, that she had dropped out of college, moved to the arctic over some crush, and worked as a waitress in a restaurant, I was elated. Any shock or sense of betrayal I may have felt didn’t register because there she was, alive, and wanting to come home. One of my children actually wanted to see me! It was enough to make me want to tap my shoes together and do a little jig!

After our conversation, however, I had no choice but to be aware of the environment I was in: empty, so empty. Every little space was covered by every day objects or some assortment of clutter. Paper towel rolls, post-it notes, bowls of fake fruit, tea and coffee cups, a box of makeup from that time I was suckered into buying from a friend’s multilevel-marketing gig. That was just a small sample of things which took up space on the kitchen counters. That didn’t even cover the hallways or the living room.

It was funny, really: when my kids lived with me, I’d get onto them about cleaning the house and made sure they did so. But when it came to me, alone and (in my own mind) free, I pretty much said, “fuck it, this is my space” and let the clutter do its thing.

Well, it sure did its thing, didn’t it? Hopefully Demetria wouldn’t mind.

When it came time to meet her, I felt the pervasive feeling that she wasn’t someone I recognized. It wasn’t the green hair, although that I didn’t expect. Nor was it her coming out, which although the notion never crossed my mind, didn’t really come as a surprise, either. Her loss of interest in her studies? Unfortunate, but not unheard of, especially when one attends university. Her new interest in knives? Concerning, but I could live with it.

No, it must have been something else. Even when she tried to revert to her old self, who I knew her as, I could tell there was something different. What it was, I just couldn’t place, but a thought crept in which brought shivers across my spine:

Maybe she’s not different and maybe I just never knew her very well to begin with.

That thought didn’t know what she was talking about. As far back as I could remember, Demetria was someone withdrawn and preferred her alone time. She valued hers and others’ hygiene and was quick to judge others, but also seemed to have a good heart deep down (at least, I’d like to think so). I always tried to give her her space, as I knew I would have wanted the same if I were her.

But there were little things which made me wonder if I was perhaps living with a different Demetria than the one I raised. One such example was when I sat at the sofa, watching one of my soap operas, Young and the Breastless, when I took a quick glance beside me to see none other than Demetria, pacing about and reading a book. Well...I assumed she was reading, but the book was upside down. She shook her head while she paced, flipping from page to page.

“Nope. I just can’t get into this,” she muttered, and it sounded less disappointed and more like she hadn’t yet given up hope that she would. I leaned forward and saw the title of the book: ‘Banana Fish.’

“What’cha up to?” I asked, and the show no longer took up my attention, instead becoming white noise.

“I’m trying to get back into marine biology, so I figured I’d read a new fish textbook, but no matter how hard I try, I just can’t get into it,” she explained and peered up from her book.

“Are you sure it’s about fish? I see a couple of guys on the cover,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m assuming it’s one of those edutainment-type deals. Y’know, like Pajama Sam. Anyway, they haven’t actually talked about fish yet, but maybe it’s a slowburn textbook.”

Call it mother’s intuition, but something told me that book had nothing to do with actual fish. Props to her for trying to get back into her old interest, but she ought not to force herself.

“You know, you don’t have to get back into marine biology,” I suggested, “maybe pick up a new interest. What about knives?” That was such a weak suggestion, but it was something.

Even with her glasses on, she squinted, although it seemed less like a vision thing and more for effect, as if to say, “are you crazy, mom?!” It was weird to admit, too, but I already missed her green hair and as much as she tried to appear and act like her old self, it only seemed to highlight how much she had changed.

“What am I gonna do? Knive-ology? I don’t think that’s a thing,” she snapped her fingers for added effect.

Her old self would have just said something like, “I don’t want to make a career of that.”

I knew she had returned home due to having such a rough time with someone, but if anything, she had been more expressive. At least, around the house. I still couldn’t get her to go outside. Through every cycle of one’s life, it seemed at the core, some things remained.

Another day, I was watching a different soap opera on my day at work, this show called ‘The Good Doctor’ (yeah, generic name, I know).

“Good doctor! Your patient is having heart complications!” The assistant rushed to the good doctor in a panic. The good doctor sat at his desk with a suede suit and a polka dot tie and looked up, a bushy eyebrow raised.

“What’s the complications?” He asked, before pushing himself out from his seat.

“It’s complicated! Hurry!” The assistant urged the good doctor, who then rushed into the patient’s room. In the room, the patient leaned up from his bed, a shriveled up old man.

“Are you a good doctor?” He asked, a gravelly voice.

“I am the good doctor,” the good doctor replied, rather humbly, too.

“My heart keeps beating,” the patient moaned. “I don’t know why.”

“That’s what hearts do,” the good doctor answered, and a smile spread across the patient’s face.

“Wow, thanks doc. I’m cured!”

My viewing experience was interrupted by a plop as I turned to my right to see Demetria’s face looking back at me while she hung off from the top of the couch upside down.

“What’cha watchin’?” She asked in a tone that indicated that she was bored and didn’t really care.

“The Good Doctor,” I told her as I tried to keep my attention fixed on the show.

“Gee, I sure hope so,” she snickered. “If I was at the hospital, I know I’d want to be seen by the good doctor, not the bad one.”

I nudged her.

“Since when are you such a smart-ass?” I asked.

“You missed a lot of character arcs,” she continued the snark. “I went through several developments and regressions, and now I’m here.”

“I can see that,” I teased right back. Yes, two of us could be sarcastic.

“No, but for real, I’ve always been like this,” her voice turned quiet, contemplative. “I’ve just usually kept it in my head.”

That. That never occurred to me.

“Well, it’s fun,” I remarked. “I’m really glad to have you around.”

Her (glasses-less) eyes widened, then turned to a near-squint.

“You are?” She sounded quite puzzled by such a statement. As if it weren’t obvious to her.

“Of course! You’re my kid!”

“What about your other kids?” She pointed out.

“I love them, too, but they never come visit me. Well, Hestia does sometimes, but that’s still rare. It gets lonely here, you know.”

“What assholes,” she scoffed. I nudged her again.

“Those are your siblings you’re talking about!” I scolded, something I didn’t think I had to do. Oh well, it was a playful scold. “They’re good people, they’re just busy much of the time. Hestia’s an architect and works with various non-profit groups on the side. Hermes has his job as a fitness instructor. Then there’s Log...he’s busy being Log.”

“Sheesh, what’s with all these Greek myth names, anyway?”

I drummed up a storm of laughter, something which wasn’t really funny, but sometimes I just laughed to reminisce.

“Funny story about that…” I caught my breath. “Back when I was your age, I won a contest to go study abroad in Greece.”

“Did it come with a time machine?” She butted in.

“Are you gonna keep snarking or you gonna let me tell you?” I shot back. In response, she slunk down the couch, then sat up in a flurry of movements.

“Fire away, cap’n!” She gave me some goofy salute.

“So while I was at some museums, I met this nice Turkish guy and we hit things off pretty well. We went to a nice cafe and I got to unload my love of myth to him. That’s when he laughed and told me he was half-Greek himself, and he was visiting some family. After I went back to the states, we kept in touch as penpals and sent letters to each other back and forth. You probably don’t need me to tell you the rest.” I stopped myself. If I were to continue, it would have been a much longer story than it needed to be.

“Uh, yeah I do. What’s that got to do with giving us weird names?”

“Well, you know how there’s that tradition in our family to name ourselves after trees. My mom named me Sequoia, and she was Cypress. So when I had my first kid, all the relatives wanted to know what tree-related name I would give them. I gave it some thought and then decided that I wanted to do something different, so chose the name of a goddess I loved, Hestia.”

“Ugh, Hestia,” Demetria groaned, “it’s always ‘Hestia is bestia’ and ‘is there nothing Hestia can’t do?’ It’s grating.”

While I admit the praises seemed rather excessive, I was proud of her, just as much as I was proud of all my children in some way or another.

“Next came Hermes, and at that point, the whole family was up in arms, begging and pleading for just one tree name. So I compromised and said that if I had a third kid, I’d name them something tree-related. That seemed to get them off my back.”

“Thus, lo and behold, Log was born,” Demetria raised her head up and put her hand to her chest, almost singing out the words. Talk about dramatic.

“But then, you were born, just a few years after Log. I really didn’t expect to have another kid, and I figured to balance things out, I’d name you Sycamore. But then I decided: fuck it. You’re Demetria. And the rest was history.”

Yes. I was sure she heard the explanation before, but I suppose it bore repeating. It was just a shame that she never got to meet her father.

“What was he like?” She once asked me.

“He was a kind man. Patient, loved to listen to others. Never had a mean bone in his body. You would have liked him, I’m sure.”

“Would I have?”

“Maybe. I suppose it’s hard to say.”

Yes. Just a few months before Demetria was to come into this world, Beet Root (he took my last name) lost his life in a car accident. It was hard, to say the least. More than hard. But what else could I do? I couldn’t just stop raising my kids. So I continued on, through the grief and confusion. So it may have gone that she was born with a little bit of grief and confusion as well.

At least with the way things were, there was more time we could spend together. More things I could learn about her. There were still things I would have liked to see from her, though: making friends, finding a job, getting outside more. All things she didn’t seem to want anything to do with. I mean, she came out to me, didn’t that mean she wanted a girlfriend? It wouldn’t happen if she didn’t try.

I know, I’ll help her out, I thought in the middle of my shift. While my main job was working front desk at the Himbo Hotel, I’d sometimes work as a part-time taxi driver on the side. It didn’t pay a lot, but it was fun to meet different people, sometimes.

One person that I picked up was a tall and twig-like girl with blue and pink pastel colored denim clothing (jacket and pants) and hot pink hair.

“Are you Macie?” I asked as I rolled down my window.

“I might be,” she replied, then got in through the backdoor.

Once she was in, I let curiosity get the better of me.

“So...I’ve got a daughter,” I mentioned.

“Yeah? You want me to babysit her?” She asked offhand.

“No, no, I was just wondering if you’d like to meet her.”

“Why?”

“Well...she’s gay…” As soon as those words left my mouth, I saw her put the back of her hand over her mouth in the rearview mirror and laugh.

“Okay then, what’s she like?”

“Hmm...well...she likes...knives?” I just realized how hard it was to describe her to someone else.

“No thanks, I’m not into the hardcore type.”

“She’s not hardcore! It’s just an aesthetic thing...I think. She also likes to work out, and she’s got a bachelor’s degree in zoology.”

There. I think I listed enough positive traits.

Macie shrugged.

“All right, I’ll bite. I’ll write down my number. But if it turns out to be one of those weird catfishy things, I’m blocking both of you and leaving a one star review.”

I gulped, but couldn’t help but whisper a triumphant “yes!”

After I dropped her off at her destination, I returned home and raced to Demetria’s room to deliver the good news. I knocked on her door and after a few successive pounds, she opened up. She stood with a small towel over her forehead, a black tank top on, and working up a sweat.

“Hey! Guess what? I got a girl’s number!” I couldn’t wait for a greeting, I just had to tell her.

“Aw, you didn’t even give me time to guess…” She turned her head and looked down, disappointed.

“Aren’t you excited?”

“Oh, yeah, grats.”

“No, not for me! For you!”

“Oh. Not interested,” she turned away.

“Come on, you might like her! At the least, you might make a friend!” I urged her. She should’ve at least tried.

“I don’t wanna make any friends, especially not with someone I know nothing about.”

“It’s not good to shut yourself off in your room!” I pleaded.

“You never had a problem with it before.”

...She had a point. I shouldn’t have minded so much, but I just really wanted to help her out and didn’t know how.

“You’re right. I hope you’ve had a good day,” I softened my voice, then closed her door.

Other than watch TV and eat together, we didn’t really interact much. That was fine, we didn’t have to, but she should’ve at least interacted with someone. What I saw in her wasn’t someone who was in her room all the time, indulging in her study. Instead, I got the notion that she was deliberately avoiding going outside. As if there was something out there that she was afraid of. If that was the case, I didn’t know what.

There was one girl I managed to get her to speak to, though. Granted, it was her sister, but it was something. Especially since I knew how much she didn’t like to spend time around her siblings.

I had a video call set up with Hestia on my laptop.

“Hey mom, how’s things been?” She asked, her bright smile ever-present on her face. She was seated at the dining room in her own apartment, a much more effervescent air surrounded her while her tucked back teal hair took up a large part of the top of the screen.

“I’m good, things have been great, actually. Demetria’s living with me now,” I told her.

“Oh? I remember how freaked out you were a while back ago. It’s good to know she’s okay.”

“I know, right? Apparently she went to the arctic for a while because of a crush.”

Hestia laughed, a sort of high-pitched “ohoho” laugh.

“She always did do her own thing, didn’t she? I regret not being closer with her, but what’s done is done and there’s no room for regrets.”

“You could come visit,” I suggested. And it wasn’t just that I was lonely. “Maybe you two could hang out or something.”

Hestia put her index finger on her chin and hummed.

“I would like to, but you know how busy I can be. I won’t rule it out, though, ‘kay?”

I sighed. That was the best I could hope for, wasn’t it?

“By the way, it turns out she’s gay.”

Again, hum.

“I’m not surprised at all,” she replied, that same kind voice as ever. “Did you hear about Hermes’ new boyfriend?”

I shook my head.

“No, what’s he like?”

“No idea! But he says he has one, and he seems happy, so that’s all that matters, right?”

“Heh, guess so. Say, how’s things with your girlfriend?”

“Good, good. Aphrodite’s been helping me volunteer at an animal rescue on my days off.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Maybe you and Demetria can bond over your love of women,” I suggested. That was met with another hum.

“That’s a decent enough idea, but everyone experiences love differently, so we may be too different to relate to one another.”

Just because it wouldn’t be exactly the same, that didn’t mean the two couldn’t relate, could it? That just didn’t make sense to me. Yet when I could have voiced as much, I didn’t.

“Would you like to talk to her right now? I could go get her,” I instead said.

“Of course, I’d love to say hello to my dear sister!”

“Demetria!” I called for her. Without a moment’s hesitation, she made sluggish motions toward the dining room. After rubbing her eyes, she looked my way.

“What?” She groaned.

“Wanna say hi to Hestia?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, then looked at the laptop screen. “’Sup?”

“Why hello, Demetria! You’re looking as cute as ever!” Hestia oozed joy from the swaying of her head.

“Uh, thanks. You’re looking tryhard as ever, yourself,” she replied in a flat, deadpan tone. I nudged her.

“Be nice,” I whispered. She looked up at me in response, a wide-eyed and pathetic expression on her face.

“No puppy dog eyes, either.”

“How have you been, Demetria?” Hestia seemed to wave off the snarky remark, “do you still shut yourself off in your room?”

My face felt like it was about to turn red, but Demetria seemed unfazed.

“I shut myself off in your mom,” she shot right back. As if she was some grade-schooler.

“Ew. We have the same mom.”

Yes. That same mom was listening to the two of them as they spoke.

“Uh...well…” Demetria stammered as she struggled to save face.

I snickered. Now both girls looked at me and in unison asked, “what’s so funny?”

“It’s nice to see you two get along so well,” I remarked.

The two laughed as well at that notion.

“Yes, I agree,” Hestia proclaimed, “it was nice to hear from you, my dear sister. You look well.”

“Yeah, later, spoiled princess,” Demetria shrugged, then walked away. Then, the unexpected happened:

“Butthead!” Hestia yelled back, and stuck her tongue out. Upon realizing what she had done, she put both hands over her mouth. I shook my head.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I don’t know, that was rather unbecoming of me. Do forgive me,” she spoke all fancy, then gave me puppy dog eyes as well.

“You’re ten years older than her! You’re supposed to set a good example!” I cried out. To that, she raised and index finger and with her eyes closed, gave a triumphant smile.

“Actually, we’re both adults, so if anything, she should know better than to have such an attitude!” She declared.

Once again, I shook my head.

“Talk to you later. Love you.”

“Love you too, mom! Do give Demetria my sincerest of apologies!”

The video call ended. As much as that (began and) ended in bickering, it was still progress. They spoke to each other. Baby steps. Maybe after that, she would branch out a little more and –

I could only wish.

About a week after that conversation, I got off work and noticed a text on my phone. I opened up the message and I felt my heart caught in a bear trap:

Demetria: Hey, try not to worry too much when you get home, but I won’t be there. I went outside and got a smoothie like you wanted me to. It was good, but it got me thinking how I the whole time I’ve been with you, I’ve felt stuck. Not stuck because of you, but stuck because I haven’t found any interest that I’ve felt passionate about. I don’t know what I want to do and it frightens me. So I’ve decided to go off and try to figure things out. I’ll see if I can stay with Juniper for a little while, maybe a change in environment will help. Love you, and goodbye for now.

I rushed home. I tried texting her back, but it wouldn’t send. I tried calling, only to receive dead air.

Her phone must be off. But why? Is she in danger?

Frantic, unsure of what else to do, I called Juniper.

“Hey, is Demetria with you?” I asked, as Juniper answered right away.

“No? Not unless she’s hiding somewhere. Why?” She seemed genuinely puzzled by my question, meanwhile I was still hyperventilating.

“She left me a message. Said she’d be with you.”

“Huh. I haven’t heard anything like that. But maybe she’s on her way? I dunno.”

“Okay. Just. Let me know if you see her, okay?”

“Sure thing! Hope she’s doing all right!”

“Me too.”

I hung up. Next was Hestia, but not because I thought she’d know Demetria’s whereabouts, but just because I needed someone to vent to. The phone kept ringing, but there was no answer. Then it timed out.

Of course. Because she’s always doing something.

However, just a minute later, Hestia called back.

“Hey mom, what’s up?” She greeted.

“Demetria. She...she…” I had trouble getting it all out.

“Everything okay?”

“I don’t know. She ran off.”

“Oh my…”

“I don’t know what to do. She left a message saying she’d see if she could stay with Juniper.”

“So maybe she’s with Juniper.”

“I called her and she said Demetria’s not there. I’m worried.”

“Yeah, I can tell. When did you last see her?”

“This morning. Right before work.”

“That’s probably why. I’d say it takes more than an afternoon to reach Juniper’s place.”

Right. That thought never occurred to me. But then, where would she stay on her way there? Motels? What if something bad happened there?

“I’m just...I really thought she would stay. I gave her her space. I let her do whatever. But she didn’t want to make friends and she didn’t want to leave the house and –”

“...Sounds like she left the house, though,” Hestia pointed out.

“You’re right. I should be happy. She’ll be fine. She was fine before.”

“Mom.”

“What is it, dear?”

“Chill. She’s an adult. Just let her do her thing. She’s always been an independent person, so let her be. If she wants to come back, just tell her ‘no, I’ve made my choice.’”

I balked.

“I couldn’t do that!”

“I’m not saying to be mean. Look, I know this family’s known for being overly nice, but that doesn’t mean you have to be a pushover. It’s bad enough you’re a worrywart.”

“I just don’t want to be too tough. I remember how Juniper’s mom was and I told myself I wouldn’t be like her.”

“You’re not…” Hestia muttered, then continued, “you’re afraid of letting her go, aren’t you?”

That struck me. Not because of how harsh it was. No, her tone of voice was sympathetic, if anything.

“I just wanted to spend more time with her,” I began to tear up, “She didn’t stay for very long and I thought I could have some company.”

“I understand. It probably gets lonely.”

“It does…”

“It’s not too late for you, either. You can try to make friends, you can go out and have fun. You should take care of yourself, too.”

“You’re right,” my voice turned weepy, but I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course. I gotta go, mom. I’m busy petting goats at a petting zoo. Did you know that statistically, one in five goats don’t get pet?”

“One of your volunteer works?” I asked.

“You know it.”

The call ended after that. So once again I was left in an empty house, full of clutter. Days went by, the same routine, and I waited for some update, some word as to where she was. So far, nothing. At a certain point, I considered adopting a ferret. I hadn’t quite decided yet, but it might help.

[petersasteria]

You Again?! - H.O. // SPECIAL

Pairing: Haz x Reader

*This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.*

Series Masterlist

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This will take place on chapter 22: Dream. It starts when they meet for the "first time".

Please read until the end for a message.

* * * *

Tom opens the door in surprise, "I told you to text me when your classes are done. I was supposed to pick you up." He steps aside and lets Y/N in. He closes the door and smiles, "I'm so glad you went straight here! I have someone here for you! It's Harri-"

"Harrison." Y/N gasps at the man in the living room. Harrison turns around and his eyes widen, "Y-Y/N."

"Hold up- you already know each other?! How and when?!" Tom's jaw drops. Y/N and Harrison look at each other and at Tom.

"I dreamed about him."

"She was in my dream!"

"What?" Tom asks, clearly confused. "You guys dreamed of each other? How is that even possible?"

"Well, I don't know, but it happened." Harrison shrugs.

"I'll, uh, leave you guys to it, then." Tom excuses himself and leaves.

Y/N walks closer to Harrison and sits next to him, "I'm Y/N."

"Harrison."

"That was some weird dream, huh?" Y/N chuckles. Harrison nods, "Yeah, it was so real. I thought I would wake up next to you or something."

"I mean... we could always make that dream a reality... if you want?" Y/N asks. "I'm- I'm willing to try if you're willing."

"That'd be cool, actually." Harrison smiles. "Oh and for the record, I wouldn't treat you bad like in that dream. Even I thought it was fucked up."

"It was so fucked up." Y/N laughs.

Later that night, they went on a date. It was going well, but something just felt off. It was neither Harrison nor Y/N's fault. It just wasn't working. They strangely got along platonically, but romantically like what they expected and like what Tom expected.

"It's not working, is it?" Harrison says after taking a sip of his champagne. Y/N just stares at him and he chuckles, "Just tell the truth. I won't get mad, I swear."

"It's not working." Y/N says softly. "I don't know why it isn't working. We're supposed to work out!" she whines before taking a bite of her food. "Why isn't it working??"

"Maybe our dreams were from the alternate universe or something." Harrison says. Y/N looks at him weirdly.

"Okay. Hear me out." Harrison starts, "Maybe our dreams were showing us what it'd be like if we get together. I feel like we already have someone for us, but we just didn't notice them. Maybe that's why we're not feeling anything romantic towards each other, because we already have that someone. Am I even making sense? I'm not sure anymore."

"That makes perfect sense." Y/N nods along. "I'm not even being sarcastic. But who are we supposedly romantically involved with?"

Harrison shrugs, "I don't know mine, but I know yours."

Y/N looks at him with hope and excitement in her eyes. Harrison laughs at her and shakes his head, "You don't know who it is?!"

Y/N just shakes her head.

"It's Tom, you idiot." Harrison teasingly smiles.

"Harrison, we're just best friends!" Y/N tells him, but Harrison disagrees.

"I really feel like he's the one for you. I'm a hundred percent sure that he's the one for you. I'm also a hundred percent sure that he feels something for you, but he's just forcing you to date me, because he thinks you don't feel the same way. I'm a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way, but you just don't know it." Harrison says with a proud smirk on his handsome face.

"You seem a hundred percent sure with everything, huh?" Y/N playfully rolls her eyes.

Both of them continue eating in comfortable silence. Y/N uses this time to think about what Harrison said just then. Does she like Tom? Does Tom really like her like Harrison claimed he's a hundred percent sure of? She wasn't sure, but she did ask Tom about his feelings in her dream.

"Harrison." Y/N says.

"What?"

"I just remembered something from my dream."

"Spill it."

"In my dream, Tom and I got drunk and I asked him if he ever had any feelings for me. He said that he did have a huge crush on me that lasted for years and that was the reason why he was so protective over me when guys would throw themselves at me. Then I asked him why he didn't pursue a relationship with me." she trails off.

"What did he say?" Harrison asks.

"He said he didn't want to risk the connection that we have. He said that if he lost it, he wouldn't know how to handle it." Y/N says.

"He said he moved on, though." she adds.

Harrison snickers, "In your dream, he did. But I assure you he hasn't moved on in real life. Some dreams don't come true and we're proof of that."

"...Are you a hundred percent sure?" Y/N teases.

"You're never going to let that go, huh?"

Y/N shakes her head, "Nope."

"For fuck's sake." Harrison chuckles. "But yes, I'm a hundred percent sure."

"Do you feel the same for Tom?" Harrison asks in all seriousness.

"I'm not really sure. This is all so sudden and I don't want to say yes for the sake of saying it. Maybe I should give myself some time to really think about it." Y/N answers.

"That's a wise decision, Y/N. I hope you figure it out soon. Tom's a div, but he's great." Harrison says.

"Trust me, I know." Y/N laughs.

"In my dream he said that I was your perfect match, because I'm the type that won't give up so fast. I think he failed to see that he was your perfect match all along." Harrison smiles.

The next few days were spent studying for finals and preparing for graduation. Y/N grew closer to Harrison and they eventually became best friends. They didn't tell Tom about what they discussed that night on their date. They just told him that they realized that they were better off as friends.

Y/N has been figuring out her feelings for Tom and her realization came after her graduation celebration. She's sleeping over at Tom's place and she notices that Tom's gaze would linger and he would do anything to make her comfortable.

'Maybe Harrison's right.' she thinks.

"So tell me what really happened." Tom says and hands her a glass of wine as he sits next to her on the couch.

She takes a sip of her wine and sighs, "You really want to know?"

"Positive." Tom nods.

'Here goes nothing.' she thinks.

"We didn't work out... romantically. We just saw each other as friends that night." Y/N says truthfully.

"Oh." Tom says. He didn't know if he should feel happy or sad. "But what about the dreams?"

"Harrison said that maybe our dreams were showing us the alternate universe; y'know like, 'what if we ended up together?' kind of thing. He also said that we might already have someone in our lives that we have romantic connections with and he said he was sure I had one." Y/N explains.

"So, is Haz a conspiracy theorist now?" Tom jokes, but he couldn't shake the thought of Y/N having romantic connections with someone who wasn't him.

Y/N laughs, "Maybe, but he was right."

"Oh?" Tom says with his eyebrows raised. Y/N nods, "Yeah. I do have romantic connections with someone. It just took me a while to see or notice it."

"Who?" Tom asks, emotionally preparing for heartbreak.

"You."

"What?" Tom looks at her in shock.

"Harrison said that he was a hundred percent sure you had feelings for me. He also said that he was a hundred percent sure that I felt the same way, but I didn't know it. Tom, he's right. He was absolutely right, because I realized that I do feel the same way." she confesses.

Tom just looks at her. He's still in shock.

"In my dream, I asked you if you ever had feelings for me. You said yes. Then I asked you why you didn't pursue a relationship with me and you said we had a bond something so beyond that you couldn't describe it. You said you didn't want to break that bond, so you moved on." Y/N rambles and scoots closer to Tom to cup his face in her hands.

"Tom, what if our bond becomes stronger, because you and I just naturally work together? You know me better than I know myself and when I needed you most, I didn't have to tell you, because you already knew. You took care of me when my parents basically disowned me and I will forever be grateful for that." Y/N says.

"Likewise, I do the same for you. I have this gut feeling whenever you aren't feeling okay and I let you cry when you're with me, because I know you can't let it out with other people. I know all of your usual orders at every single restaurant or coffee shop that we've been to together. I know them by heart, because I know that you want to binge eat your usual orders when you want to have a cheat day. I also know that you hate the day after cheat day, because you regret eating a lot then you'll eat a piece of celery to start the day despite not liking the taste of it."

"I also began to notice the way you look at me and Tom, no one's ever looked at me like that before. You look at me as if I was the one who put the stars in the sky, but you don't realize that the sparkle in my eyes only happen whenever I see you. Tom, you're the most important person in my life and it would make me really happy to start a relationship with you." Y/N finishes her little speech and at this point, both of them were crying.

"Please say something, Tom." she pleads.

"Y/N, all I have for you are four words." Tom says as he takes both of Y/N's hands in his.

"Let's hear it." she smiles.

"It was always you." Tom grins.

Y/N chuckles and says, "You have no idea how happy I am."

"Same here." Tom smiles. "I, uh, shit. Y/N, I-"

"You what?"

"I-I lo-love you." Tom stutters and curses under his breath. "I wanted to say 'I love you' for the first time without stuttering, but I failed."

"It was perfect nonetheless. It makes it real." she sighs happily. "I love you too."

They smile at each other and Y/N leans in to give Tom a light peck on the lips. Tom's jaw drops and Y/N moves back to her original place on the couch.

"You kissed me." Tom says.

"Yeah, so?"

"YOU KISSED ME." Tom repeats and looks at Y/N with a stupid grin on his face. "You've never kissed anyone before and I know that because if you would've told me. I'm your first kiss!"

She ignores him and pulls out her phone, "You probably had better kisses."

"Our kiss was the best, though." Tom states. She looks at him in confusion, "How come?"

"Because it's my kiss with my future wife." Tom says with no hesitation.

They made it official that night. They even called Harrison who was on vacation with his family. Harrison was delighted for his best friends and he told Y/N that he told her so. Y/N moved in with Tom after a week of dating and it was the best decision she ever made.

Dates were consisted of studying for the board exam which she passed in. Tom was really proud of her. "When I get in trouble, I'm counting on you, okay?" Tom joked when they got the results. Y/N lightly smacked his arm for that.

After two years of dating, Tom proposes to her in the comfort of their shared home. It was just the two of them and they were cuddling on their bed when Tom did it.

"Y/N, will you marry me?" Tom asks. Y/N immediately sits up and looks at him, "What?"

Tom sits up and clears his throat, "Okay, hear me out. We've known each other for so long and to be honest, even before we started dating, we could already pass as a couple. Then things got better when we started dating two years ago. It's the best two years of my life and I love you so much and I don't want to let you go. So Y/N, will you-"

"Yes." she says immediately. Tom grins and leans in to kiss her. He pulls away after a while and opens the drawer next to the bed to get the velvet box. He shows it to her and he opens it to reveal the most beautiful ring with her birth stone on it.

She gasps at the sight of the ring and Tom quickly takes it out of the box and puts it on her ring finger. "Tom, it's beautiful." she gushes.

"Only for the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Tom grins.

They get married a year later and went to Maldives for their honeymoon. They lived happily after that. They didn't plan on having kids, because of their careers, but they want kids in the future.

They were thankful for Harrison for helping them get together and Harrison was glad that he could help his best friends.

Sometimes we don't know that the person we would end up with is actually right in front of us. Don't wait for an experience like Harrison and Y/N in this alternate ending.

* * * *

TODAY'S A SPECIAL DAY BC IT'S THIS FIC'S 1ST BIRTHDAY <3

A year ago today, I published the first chapter here not knowing if people would love it. Originally, this would only have a few chapters, but I guess I got carried away. I'm so blessed to have every single one of you to support and read this.

Thank you for reading it. Thank you for all the likes and reblogs. Thank you for all your entertaining comments! I loved reading every single one of it.

You guys are amazing. I love you all. I hope you continue to support me in my other fics <3

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𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​​​​​​​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​​​​​​​ @rubberducky-jrr​​​​​​​ @petersholland​​​​​ @osterfieldnholland​​​​​ @miraclesoflove​