#The tv series teachers are still a little fucked up though

[dont-hug-me-its-yuri]

I think people should let the teachers be assholes more. Both to each other and to other puppets

[yunalinwrites]

saved by the bell (chapter 2) | fushiguro toji x reader

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available on wattpad

summary: fushiguro toji never makes first moves--until he happens to meet the teacher of the son he hasn't seen in years.

strangers -> fwb -> lovers

takes place in 2006 around the star plasma vessel/hidden inventory/premature death arc; megumi is a first grader

about reader: female, around 30 or older, teacher, has a soft spot for megumi, speaks kind of formally, has daddy issues + abandonment issues

warnings: eventual smut, cursing, alcohol, smoking, daddy issues, abandonment issues, mention of child abuse/trauma, toji is initially kind of an ass, spoilers for the season 2 arc mentioned above

"Don't get how a puny thing like him can burn through a gallon in a week," he'd complained, watching the infant chug his bottle eagerly in his lap. "Damn FamilyMart workers are starting to know my name."

His friend turned back to face him, looking inside from the balcony as he took a drag from his cigarette and adjusted his tie.

"If you want him to look anything like you by the time you sell him off, you better get used to it," his friend advised. "Probably the cheapest source of protein out there."

Finally, the little boy lifted his mouth from the bottle, but only to let out sharp wails. At this, the man's friend put down his cigarette and came back inside.

"Not like they'll give me any extra money for it," the man grumbled, handing his son awkwardly to his friend. "He'll be strong enough. And fuck if I help the Zenin clan more than I need to."

Patting the baby's back gently, his friend made a suggestion: "You could always keep him. Learn how to raise him yourself. Spite 'em that way."

The man didn't appear to be listening, already having shifted his attention to the glitchy TV he'd gotten off the street and sinking into his cracked leather couch. Sighing, his friend laid down the now quiet baby beside him and headed towards the balcony to continue where he left off, his suggestion met only with the sound of footsteps as he was followed out.

"They'll make sure he's strong," the man guaranteed, taking a cigarette from his friend's pack. Once he'd successfully flicked the lighter at the end, he continued: "Probably gonna breastfeed him till age fuckin' eight."

And though he was met with no contest from his friend, he went on, with a breath of nicotine concluding, "'Just not something I'm made to provide."

***

Tossing the cap behind himself, he took a long swig straight from the jug.

He slammed the refrigerator door shut and leaned back against the counter, but--thanks to the lack of distance between everything in his cramped unit--this move forced him to meet the reflection of himself in the glass of the balcony door.

His friend seemed to have been right all those years ago. The incorporation of milk into his diet gave the man a body that he was, for the most part, proud of--mountainous biceps, chiseled abs, bulging pecs; the works. The only thing that irked him about his appearance, though, was his face--that scar, that fucking scar.

He vaguely remembered hearing somewhere else that protein was good for building tissue, which was a claim sufficiently evidenced by his body--from the neck down, that is. So it was both confusing and disappointing when he'd wake up in the middle of the night to take a piss and that nasty mark of his past would be the first thing he saw in his dirty mirror. Still, not really knowing what else to do about it, he took another sip and tried focusing his attention through the glass door rather than on it. In doing this, his eyes found refuge on the polka-dot umbrella he'd left out to dry.

It had been a little over a week since that night at the bar. It was still quite rainy here and there, so he found himself still using the item almost every night. It's not nearly as romantic as it sounds, though--at least not for you. He had mostly been using it to escort other women home.

To be fair, he had some self awareness. He felt worse every time he saw your name and number whenever he opened it for someone other than himself. But what was he supposed to do, return it? You hadn't been back at that bar since. Not that he was really checking he just figured if he was going to go out to do his nightly ritual, he might as well do it at that same joint. You know, in case you wanted your umbrella back.

And before you ask, no, he couldn't call you. He almost never, ever called first; it went against his morals, if you can even refer to them as that.

Again, he had some self-awareness. He knew he was kind of a piece of shit, so much so that even through the gray clouds and even among the 8-billion-some-odd people on His earth, he supposed God recognized him as such. So, just like how God decided whether or not the boats he bet on would get him out of this apartment, he assumed God also decided which women ended up in his web, and which would come back for a second night. By this logic, so long as he didn't make too many overt first moves, all broken hearts could simply be attributed to and excused by fate. It was a sort of heavenly restriction, if you will; he would sacrifice his initiative for the ability to keep being an absolute fucking asshole.

His sacrifices also included curiosity, he tried reminding himself; if he was meant to know something, then he would just know it already--so there was no point in wondering about you or, by association, his... that little boy.

Yes, there was no point in wondering how he managed to look that much like him, or where he got the balls to just follow curses around whenever he pleased, or why his name was Fushiguro, and not Zenin

Or, for that matter... fuck, what was his first name?

He headed towards the couch and took a seat, jug still in hand.

Shit. I don't even remember what it started with...

Forcing out a low laugh at this realization, he fished for the TV remote in between the cracked cushions.

Whatever.

He flicked through the channels with occasional sips from his drink, letting clips of people talking, singing, and laughing play no longer than a second before he cut them off with the press of a button. He kept spamming it, tapping and tapping, faster and faster, sounds merging together until:

Wasn't it an M...?

Placing the milk jug down on the dusty coffee table, he stared at the characters on the remote's number pad, his attention focused on a singular key in particular.

Fuck.

Putting the remote down beside him, he rubbed his eyes in distress, trying to massage the thought out of his head.

Goddammit...

He cursed His name, but as he used his arms to push himself up off his imprinted spot on the couch, hoped that God would forgive him just this once.

Hastily, he headed towards the balcony door and shoved the stubborn thing open. Snatching the umbrella with one hand, he punched in your number with the other, a firmness in his thumb. As soon as the phone rang with his outgoing call, though, whatever resolution that was just occupying his body had completely vanished. By the second ring, he was tapping impatiently on the rusty railing. By the third, he was trying to steady himself against it, which only resulted in a concerning creak. By the fourth, he'd headed back inside out of fear that he'd drop his outdated device, something that he couldn't afford. The fifth ring had his thumb just millimeters shy of the red button on his keypad, getting dangerously close due to his trembling, but then:

"Hello, this is Miss L/N speaking."

He exhaled after what felt like an eternity of holding his breath. As his lungs regained their rhythm, he felt his shoulders melt back down into relaxation, and soon, a smirk found itself creeping onto his lips. "Jesus--you really do talk like a princess."

"Um... I'm sorry, could I ask who this is?"

Still smirking, he took another deep breath and spoke up: "Think you left your glass slipper with me at the bar the other night," he started, absentmindedly studying the item. "But you made my job a lot easier by putting your number on it, Miss L/N Y/N."

There was a short pause, but then she realized: "O-oh! It's you--Oh my God, um... Hello..."

He chuckled lightly at her stuttered response. "It's me."

"So," he began again, "What are you doing tonight?"

For a while, nothing came through the speaker. He bit his cheek.

When she finally did speak, her tone was lowered: "I can't stay out late. It's a school night."

He placed the umbrella on the coffee table and took a seat on the couch, putting his free arm over the back.

"Won't take that long to return an umbrella," he pointed out. "Didn't realize you had something else in mind."

"N-no, that's fine, you can just--"

"I'm just pulling your leg," he interrupted. "How about now--what're you up to right now?"

That came out a little more eager than he meant for it to be. In an attempt to fill the awkward silence, he grabbed the milk jug from the coffee table and resumed his drink, gulping as he held the microphone away from his mouth.

"I'm out running errands."

"Where?"

Slamming his drink down--again, a little too eagerly--he reached for the remote and switched off the TV.

"Um..."

The hesitation was discouraging at first, but as her microphone betrayed her, it would seem that the aforementioned God was on his side today. In the background, he heard the familiar chime that indicated someone had come through the automatic door.

"Which FamilyMart is that?"

This time, there was surprisingly little hesitation: "...the one by the station."

And with that, he finished off the last few ounces left in the container and tossed the empty jug on the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't move," he instructed, grabbing the umbrella with one hand and pulling the phone from his ear with the other. Bringing his thumb back to that red button, this time with returned unwavering confidence, he finished, "See you there, princess."

***

The door chimed welcomingly as it automatically slid open, causing you to whip your head around in anticipation. To both your disappointment and relief, it was just a gaggle of teens looking for some after school snacks.

As you turned your head back to your shopping, your eyes caught on to something right next to the entrance: a bin of umbrellas, for only a couple hundred yen each. You sighed as you took your eyes off the salt in your wound. Your mother had taught you well enough to know how bad this was: a stranger knowing your name, number, and current location. So, really, the too-late sight of an alternative was just unnecessary on God's part.

But then again, as much as you didn't love the pattern she'd chosen, it would've been cruel to replace a gift from your mother. She also always said herself to pick public spaces for first dates and, given that the local high school usually wrapped up clubs around this time, more than enough people were coming in by the second. Just now, for example, a young couple walked in holding hands in their uniforms.

And this wasn't even anywhere near a first date anyway; he was just coming to give you your umbrella, that's all. But, also... Even if he were to stick around for, say, a cordial conversation about the weather, and, hypothetically, he did so long enough that it would only be polite to ask for his name... Well, you always did preach both manners and curiosity to your students.

Deciding that you'd overthought enough, you tried to direct that curiosity to the crackers, chips, and cookies in front of you. You scanned over the rainbow of packaging, searching for something that looked both appealing and healthy. Nothing in particular jumped out at you until you looked to the top shelf, focused on a specific bag. At first, you couldn't tell why you recognized it, especially considering you couldn't see all of it due to its height, but then you realized: Megumi's brought that one to lunch before...

The shelf was well over your head, but it seemed like the only employee around--the cashier--had gone to the bathroom, so you reached your arm up as best as you could. The bag brushed your fingers, which only pushed it farther back, so you had to employ the help of your tippy toes. You could feel it just within reach of your fingertips, as the crease in your flats dug into your feet.

C'mon, just a little closer...

"Need a hand?"

Suddenly, a muscular arm emerged from behind you, reaching over you and grabbing the bag with ease.

Planting your heels back down on the floor, you spun around and smoothed out your pencil skirt, only to look up and find him--him and his scarred face--startlingly close to you.

"Thanks..." you obliged, trying to look away as you gently took the bag of sweet potato chips from his hand.

Even after you had placed the product in your basket, he didn't back up, so it was almost hard to see his entire body. But, you were still able to recognize he was wearing the same thing as when you saw him for the very first time: a black short-sleeve shirt and gray sweatpants.

As you had learned to make note of in your students, wearing repeated outfits that didn't fit the season or didn't fit the wearer was typically an indicator of a low-income background. In this case, it wasn't so much that the clothes were ill-fitting... it was just that the waistband of his pants were hanging loosely, dangerously low on hips, and his shirt was.... Tight. Very tight. And thin, which was interesting considering the chilly breeze that came through the door with every customer. Along with that, you were feeling the air from the heavy exhales of his nose.

"My eyes are up here, Miss."

You didn't realize how long you'd been watching his chest rise and fall rather quickly.

"Sorry," you corrected shyly. "You didn't rush to come here, did you?"

He shrugged. "Said you couldn't stay out late. Wouldn't wanna keep you from your royal duties."

"Oh, I see... Well, I didn't mean to hurry you. You could've at least put on a coat."

He looked down to where his compression shirt hugged the grooves of his abs. "Didn't realize there was a dress code, Miss," he teased. "Am I being indecent?'

"I-It's not that," you stuttered. "It's still cold out, you know."

"Cold? It's spring."

"Yes, but you could still get sick. Especially if it rains. You know the saying, 'In like a lion, out like a lamb'?"

"With all due respect, Miss, I'm not fucking stupid."

As soon as the profanity left his mouth, he winced at his own words. He was hoping to keep up his gentleman facade a little longer, but he supposed couldn't hide his true nature forever. Taking off the wrist strap of your umbrella, he began preparing to never see you again.

But then you spoke, surprisingly calmly: "I never said you were. But you never know. People aren't born knowing everything, are they?"

He froze in his place, thinking about your words--about how they didn't hold even a hint of anger or hurt in them. He couldn't tell if that made him feel more or less guilty.

Hearing his silence and seeing the solemn expression on his face, you felt the need to apologize for your preaching: "Sorry... I guess I'm still in teacher-mode. I swear, it's what being in this uniform does to me."

Suddenly, he smiled, and his eyes were almost soft as they looked down at you and your dainty button-up. "It's alright," he rasped. His pupils definitely darkened, though, as they drifted lower, down to your form-fitting pencil skirt and your pantyhose-clad thighs. "Yeah, no, it's... it's fine."

Feeling you remove the umbrella from his hands, he snapped out of his gaze on your body as you spoke again: "Thank you for coming all this way to return it. I wasn't really expecting you to."

Cockily, he put his hands on his hips. "Yeah, well, I just happened to run out of milk, so you can thank God for that. I mean, I'm a busy man, you know? Part of why I rushed here."

You laughed. "Physical therapy, was it?"

He paused for a second, almost as if he forgot what he did for work, but resumed the banter soon enough. "Right, yeah. Got appointments left and right. Seriously, I mean, you should consider yourself lucky."

"Well, I appreciate you squeezing me in."

"I'll let it slide just this once, princess, but you'll have to pay a fee next time."

Your stomach fluttered at the prospect of seeing him again, but you still tried to hold your guard up around the near-stranger. "Next time...?" you questioned.

"Yeah. Next time you need physical therapy."

You laughed nervously. "I don't think I... understand..."

"C'mon, Miss. You're smarter than that."

You blushed, putting together that he probably wasn't talking about yoga balls.

"I'm flattered, but... we've only just met, haven't we?" you argued, though unsure if it was to him or yourself.

He shrugged again. "Don't usually meet my clients before I meet with 'em."

You were given an opportunity to turn away when you heard the door chime again. A young man and woman had come in to shamelessly ask for where the condoms were, though they weren't holding hands. And despite it being only around 5 p.m., they were obviously somewhat inebriated, which brought up a good point--you two had met before, and you'd done so at a bar, where it was common for such shallow appointments to be made. In context, it was a little less weird when you thought of it as him picking up where he left off, underneath that bar awning.

Still, you looked down instead of back at him, imagining how he probably did this often. "I don't see why you can't just find another one, then."

He sighed through his nose and shoved his hands in his pockets. For a second, you thought you'd said something wrong--he looked uneasy, dreadful almost. But just as quick, he combed his hair back and painted a charming smile across his face.

"Yeah, I guess so," he pretended to consider. "But I noticed something about you." He crossed his arms, showing off his veiny forearms.

"When you were walkin' away from me that night, you had this... sway in your hips." He looked you up and down, squinting his hooded gray eyes.

"Could sense an underlying condition, beneath that little dress of yours." His tongue peeked out of his pale lips, teasing the scar at the corner.

"Just sayin', in my professional opinion, something oughta be done about that."

You let out a shaky breath, staring up at him, eyes wide and cheeks pink. He certainly did have some expert words to say. Meanwhile, your teeth had a deathly grip on your bottom lip, so you couldn't come up with even a single consonant to respond with. Figuring that you weren't going to respond any time soon, he began to back off.

"I should probably get going," he told you, "but don't be a stranger, yeah? Ain't got a business card or anything but my number should be in your Recents."

Even as he walked away, you couldn't say anything, and the only movement made by you came from your lip managing to escape your painful bite. All you could find in yourself to do was watch, mouth agape, as he made his way to the fridges at the end of the aisle, not even realizing you didn't yet have a name for his contact.

As he grabbed the cold handle of the refrigerator door, he could see his now frowning reflection in the glass.

He was probably going to beat himself up later over all the creepy and corny things he'd let himself utter to you, but right now, he didn't think about that; he was just glad the conversation was over. Making a number of first moves and doing so in a FamilyMart snack aisle before it was even dark out--he couldn't even focus on why he'd come here in the first place. Whatever he was trying to do-which he himself wasn't even exactly sure of-it was stupid. He felt like a fish out of water, and all he wanted to do was jump out of his skin and drown himself in the current, never daring to swim against divine intervention again.

But as if he didn't regret coming here enough, he recognized another familiar face as he moved toward the registers.

"Ah, Fushiguro!" the elderly woman would always greet. "Just milk again, Fushiguro? That's good. Lots of protein. Helps build tissue. Huh? What's that, Fushiguro? You want a pack of Marlboros? Oh, you're just like my son, Fushiguro..."

He tsked. He always hated how that old hag managed to fit his name in at the end of every other sentence, loud enough for her half-deaf ears--along with the entire store--to hear. And of course, just his luck, she lived another day to work this specific shift.

He put the milk jug back as quickly as he could and searched for the most inconspicuous route to the exit. Of course, that just happened to be through the aisle you were still in. With little time to think, he swallowed his pride. Making his way over and brushing past you, he mumbled something about having forgotten his wallet as he briskly made his way to the door.

"Wait!" you called. Head darting between the milk fridge and the back of his figure, you moved quickly after him.

Frantically tossing bills at the cashier on your way out, you bolted out of the store, this time darting your head left and right as you searched desperately among the sea of other dark-haired pedestrians. You were considering giving up as you began to get dizzy, but then you saw him--the only tall, muscular figure outfitted in a T-shirt in this weather. You continued to run after him and, thankfully--since you opted for flats over heels today--you were able to catch up with him before the pedestrian light turned red again. He was already halfway through the crossing, but he stopped in the middle of the road, eyes widened in shock as you were bent over, leaning on your knee as you panted and held the jug of milk up towards him.

Realizing that you'd bought it for him, he took it from your hand and awkwardly obliged: "...Thanks."

You were able to stand up straight now, but your breathing was still somewhat labored as you spoke: "At least... let me know... your name..."

He hesitated for a moment, as if he didn't even know what his own name was.

"You know mine," you reminded him, impatiently putting a hand on your hip. "It's only fair."

His face was grave, but his eyes were narrow as they jumped everywhere around you: at the passing taxis and vans, at the salarymen flocking from their building, at the park fenced in. It seemed he found his name somewhere, but it wasn't as comically artificial as you might think: "It's Zenin. Zenin Toji."

"Zenin?" you confirmed.

"Yeah," he replied, swallowing away the dryness in his throat. "But what do you say we skip the formalities? Just call me Toji."

"Oh, um. Okay, then. Toji," you repeated, testing it out on your tongue.

A loud honk brought the two of you back to the reality of where you were, prompting you to finish crossing the street. Now back on the curb, you turned to him again.

"Um, Toji," you spoke, still getting used to the syllables.

"Yeah?" he answered.

"I, um... I want to make it clear I'm not looking to do anything tonight," you enforced, projecting as much as you could muster. "But I have one more thing to take care of, if you'd like to come along."

You had your eyes focused on the tips of your flats, so if he was in disapproval-which you assumed from his silence-he didn't need to do much with his expression to hide it. But eventually, you heard his voice, relenting with an exhale that could've been interpreted as both disappointed and relieved: "Sure."

And so, silently, he followed behind you as you traversed the city, inferring it was a path you traveled often as you didn't stop your pace once to look at a map or even the street signs.

It wasn't far from where you'd started; a few corners later, the two of you were in a residential area that he didn't recognize, although the shady alleys between dingy apartment buildings weren't much different from where he lived. He knew teaching didn't pay much, but he was still surprised that you brought him here.

"Just wait here a moment," you told him, and he did as you knocked on the nearby door with the small bag of groceries in your other hand. He waited patiently and, watching you do the same in front of the grimy door, he considered the possibility that you two weren't so different after all.

But then the door opened, and you said something, and you were only a couple feet away so he heard, but it was as if all of a sudden there were miles between you two.

"Hi!" you'd chirped. "Is Megumi home?"

Everything else faded into muffles. He watched, paralyzed, as you handed over your groceries to a young brown-haired girl who looked vaguely--uncomfortably--familiar, but he didn't process a single thing either of you said. All he could hear was that M-word ringing throughout his head.

Meanwhile, you continued to converse in front of the drab doorway, telling the girl that you had to get going because you had some business to attend to, unconsciously pointing your thumb in the direction of where you had left Toji. You bid farewell to her with a smile and turned to where you were just pointing but, immediately, your smile dropped, as did your eyes to the corner on the pavement where he'd just stood-as if you'd find him there, hidden among the weeds sprouting from the cracks in the sidewalk. But, no-it would seem that the man named Toji was already long gone.

***

previous | series masterlist | next - should b available by next week :')

[typingcorgi]

unexpected (part ii of a three-part series)

gif by @joelmjller

read part i here

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4k pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: teacher!reader, pre-outbreak timeline, canon divergent timeline, hint of vague age difference (if he's 36 I'm thinking like the reader is 5-10 years younger but honestly insert whatever age you want), fingering, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), protected p in v sex (yay for responsible joel), praise kink makes brain go brrr, porn with plot, soft-ish!joel, no use of y/n story summary: a one-night stand with a handsome stranger doesn't go as planned. chapter summary: you invite joel to your place. you both know why he's there. author's notes: this is actually going to be a three-parter, not a two-parter, lol. sorry. thanks to my lovely friend @magpie-to-the-morning for your support in developing this chapter! no apocalypse, yay! this is part one of a multi-part series. excited to get this new ball rolling. this is just going to be a fun romp away from the mushroom zombies, okay? have fun getting yours ;) and as always, please feel free to reblog or leave a comment! your feedback is so very appreciated.

There is nothing quite like a Friday night attached to a three-day weekend. With Columbus Day right around the corner, you have the next seventy-two hours to do quite literally, whatever the fuck you want. For the first time in weeks, school is the last thing on your mind.

And apparently, you’re the last thing on Joel’s mind. You gave him your number a week ago, and even though you know three days is the average length of time before your date gets in touch with you again—can you even call your debauched bathroom rendez-vous a date?—not getting so much as a message on your voicemail has you a little freaked out.

Okay, a lot freaked out.

You’d written your number down on a napkin. He could have lost said napkin in the middle of Austin’s city streets, and now, a total stranger has your information. Just fucking great.

You kick off your shoes as you pull yourself out of your fabricated daydream—more like a nightmare. As you move through your apartment, you don’t waste a goddamn minute. You unclasp your bra beneath your shirt, pulling the straps from your shoulders and sliding them down your arms before tossing the garment into the hamper.

Maybe it’s better Joel hasn’t called. You can totally picture yourself just holing up in your apartment for the next three days and calling in delivery every night after running downtown to the nearest Blockbuster and renting a couple of cheesy romantic comedies. The guy behind the counter knows you’ve rented How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days at least three times since it’d been released on DVD, and that fact is only mildly embarrassing.

Still, your job forces you to be a creature of habit. Days like last Friday night, hooking up in public restrooms—that’s not your norm. Your feet are killing you. Sometimes you just need a weekend that demands very little of your attention or energy outside of the four walls of your bedroom.

By 9:30, you’re in your pajamas with a glass of red on your bedside table. The TV is playing a rerun of some new reality dating show—you think it’s called The Bachelor, but honestly, you tuned in during the middle of the episode, so you’re not sure. Your bed is your fucking safe haven. There are stacks of students’ essays in your tote bag abandoned on a kitchen chair, but you know damn well you took them home to only pretend to grade them. 

You’re good and settled in your bed before the tune of your cellphone ringtone chimes from the living room. You nearly trip over your own feet scrambling out of bed to race to it (but no, you’re not even the slightest bit desperate, here), and the caller ID reflects a number not registered in your address book.

It sends a little shock of anxiousness through you, a flash of adrenaline as your stomach drops, but you hit the pick-up button, taking the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a low voice rumbles from the other end of the phone, and immediately, you know who it is.

Holy shit. He actually called.

“Wow,” you breathe, your tone somewhere between vulnerability and flirtatiousness. “And here I thought you totally forgot about me.”

Joel chuckles on the other end of the line. “No, nothing like that. Just been workin’ like a dog all damn week. Either that or I’ve been taking care of my kid. Or she’s been taking care of me. Sometimes I don’t know the dif—”

He cuts himself off with a laugh, and you giggle softly into the receiver, because was Joel this charming when you met him last weekend?

“I just mean, I finally got a moment to myself is all,” Joel finishes. “Figured I’d get in touch.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess, sinking into the comfortable cushions of your loveseat. You kick your legs across the arm of it, suddenly feeling like a freshman girl talking to her senior crush before the big homecoming game. Even though you’ve barely started conversing, your heart is absolutely racing, anticipating the questions he might ask you, the plans you might make. It’s entirely too late for a dinner date, and you’re not sure Joel would even want a commitment as serious as sharing a meal with you, but there’s a small part of your naivete that remains hopeful. If Joel had been looking for a one-night stand, why had he asked you for your number?

“Yeah, well, I’ve bored you with enough details of my week,” he says, and it’s as though you can hear the smile in his voice. “How’d yours go?”

“Good,” you say, trying to think of more interesting ways to elaborate on your one-note response. “I mean, as good as teaching high school students on a Friday before a long weekend could possibly go. They either have too much energy or not enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “That’s right. Supermodel moonlighting as a teacher. I get it.”

“You’re cute,” you laugh.

“So’re you.”

You blush. You fucking blush. Joel might have admitted to being out of the dating scene for a while, and even if his comments are simple and somewhat predictable, he’s got some serious charm.

At some point in the conversation, Joel confesses he’s alone for the evening. His daughter is at a sleepover—she’s a good kid, so if she wants to stay at a friend’s house on a Friday night here and there, I’m not one to protest—and you’re alone with nothing but your mostly-empty wine glass and your Nokia 3310, beeping intermittently to signal that your battery is going to die.

There’s a pause in the conversation as you internally debate your next move: continue to engage in slightly awkward small talk, as though he hadn’t completely rocked your world seven days earlier, or the option you’re leaning towards: invite him over. Hadn’t Joel been angling for this exchange to end up that way, anyway? His daughter isn’t home tonight, so there’s no reason for him to be home himself.

“You should come over,” you offer, suddenly sounding a hell of a lot less cool than you had moments earlier when you’d flirted.

The fluster is contagious. Even if this is secretly what both of you had hoped for, what both of you sort of expected, Joel is just as nervous as you. “Y—yeah,” he stammers, and it sounds like he needs to fight to find the word in the back of his throat. “Definitely. Uh, what’s your address?”

Joel knows where you live. Well, he knows the area. He says he used to pass your street every morning when he’d drop off his daughter off at school, back when she was in third or fourth grade. The notion of him waving goodbye to an eight-year-old and telling her he loves her and hopes she has a great day at school makes your heart absolutely squeeze. A part of you wants to forgo your in-person booty call for a round of phone sex because you’re fucking wet from that vision alone, but instead, you tell him you’ll see him soon and end the call.

You take a deep breath and let it sink in. Joel is coming over to your apartment tonight. There’s a half-full glass of pinot noir on your bedside table, a mess of dishes in the sink, not to mention, you look like a total mess. Your pajamas are more functional than they are sexy, your hair is falling every which way, and your eyes are probably tired. It’s been a long week, and there are some things that even the promise of great sex can’t immediately resolve—like your current energy levels.

Fuck it. You plug your phone into its charger and hurry toward the bathroom, readying yourself for your visitor.

Within fifteen minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top (you don’t plan on wearing it long, anyway, but there’s something too comfortable about opening the door in fleece polka dot pants). Your hair is tamed and you’ve even applied a respectable amount of makeup; just enough to appear as though your job hasn’t completely zapped the life from you over the past week.

You’ve just finished tidying up when there’s a ring at your doorbell. You buzz Joel in, and you can hear his footsteps making their way up the flight of stairs from the ground floor to yours. Every step causes your heart to beat quicker, the anticipation to bubble beneath your skin, and you wonder if it’s the same for him, too.

He knocks at your door and you immediately smile when you see him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You stand there for a moment, catching sight of all the little traits that’d caused you to draw to him in the first place. The crinkles around his eyes, tired and friendly, the bit of gray found in an otherwise patchy brown beard, the broadness of his shoulders beneath a worn denim shirt.

And the fucking pet name, god. Joel is so fucking smooth and he doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe he does and you’re a damn fool. Either way, it works, and you welcome him inside without another hesitation, closing the door behind him.

You offer him the only alternative to wine you have in your place—beer—and he accepts both the bottle and its opener. You try not to be mesmerized by the sight of his hands maneuvering over the bottle cap or the sight of his lips as he takes a swig, and when he tells you you’ve got a nice place here, you have to ask him to repeat it because you haven’t entirely heard what he���s said.

“Your place,” he repeats, one side of his lips curving into a slight smirk. “It’s nice. You know how to decorate.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it sounds like something caught between a laugh and a gasp. Joel is approaching you, placing the beer on your countertop while he corners you in, his hands placed on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

“You know, not that I wouldn’t enjoy talkin’ over a drink with you, but if that was all we were in for, I’d take you out somewhere,” he rumbles. You swallow nothing but air, your face growing hot as Joel’s gaze falls to meet your eyes, then your lips.

“Yeah,” you repeat as you nod.

“Yeah,” he echos with a chuckle. “Is that all you’re gonna say to me tonight?”

“No,” you say, and you feel like a bona fide idiot. Joel’s index finger curves beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his.

“I’m gonna make you sing tonight, baby girl,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours.

You push your weight off the edge of the counter, winding your arms around Joel’s neck while his hands hold the flesh of your hips. The man is made out of electricity, suddenly shocking you to life and warming your blood. You part your lips while he kisses you, giving him permission to search your mouth as you lead him to your bedroom step for step.

The television is still on when you step into the room, only the faint golden light of your bedside lamp illuminating the space within the four walls. Joel pulls away to catch his breath and you rush to locate the remote.

“Should I be flattered you chose spendin’ time with me over watchin’ The Bachelor?” Joel teases as you turn off the TV.

“Shut up,” you laugh, and then you’re on him again. Your hands find the top button of his shirt, steadily unfastening each so that you’re free to push the garment down his shoulders and arms. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this, exposed to you, chest rising and falling with each breath. It nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It’s not like it’s a new realization, of course, but…Joel is sort of gorgeous. He’s staring right back at you and you can tell he’s searching for some sort of quip or teasing remark, but nothing comes. Instead, he’s leveling the field when he reaches for the hem of your tank top, and you raise your arms to facilitate him.

Both shirts and your bra are abandoned on the floor of your bedroom. Joel lays you onto your bed and fucking worships your tits, tonguing one pert nipple while his hand roams and kneads the other breast. He’s gentle, maybe a little clumsy, but eager. Eager to taste you, to explore you, to map out the path of your form and learn what makes you gasp and moan.

And you do. You fucking do. You whine as your fingers take hold of the back of his head while he lingers on your breast, teeth grazing against the flesh of one before turning his attention toward the other.

“Singin’ for me already, huh?” Joel asks, voice deep. Your hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, unfastening the leather from around his hips before you unbutton his jeans. He doesn’t appear to be in any rush, though. Joel’s focus remains on your chest; his hands have a gentle hold on the side of your ribs and you arch your back as you whimper his name, furthering his access to your body.

“I need to—I need to feel you more,” you confess. “I want to—”

“So do I,” he interrupts you, as though he’s read your mind. Whatever it is you want, Joel wants it, too, even if he’s more willing to take his time, more willing to drag it out—a welcome change from the circumstances of last weekend.

His lips trail from the underside of your breast down your abdomen, lingering at the skin just above the button of your jeans. Joel’s gaze meets yours and you nod, hoping you don’t appear too desperate or frantic, though you’d be completely unsurprised if that’s how you look.

Nimble fingers unfasten the button and pull your jeans down and off your legs, the black thong you’d chosen earlier that night going with them. Joel ascends your body once more, but catches you off guard when he takes one of your pillows and slides it beneath your tailbone.

“Been thinkin’ about this all week,” he murmurs as his index and middle fingers collect the wetness at your center. The half-smirk he’d given you earlier returns and you lick your lower lip in anticipation, breath catching in the back of your throat. 

“From the looks of it,” Joel adds. “So have you.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, I have.”

Your eyes roll back when Joel slides one digit inside of you to the knuckle. He curls his finger, finding the spot that’d driven you wild the last time you were together. Joel’s deep eyes are half-lidded, his expression one that exists between complete satisfaction and needing more. 

Needing more of you. To feel you writhe and wriggle beneath him, to taste you, to feel the hot clench of your cunt against his own body.

He kisses your mouth while slipping in a second finger, finding a rhythm with his hands to prime you, ready you for the rest of the evening. You groan, your eyes rolling back even further than before. 

“F—fuck, you feel good,” you breathe while he tongues the salt from your neck.

“You do too,” Joel hums in response. “But I wanna know how you taste.”

If Joel had been taking his time before, he wastes none of it now. He immediately seeks your clit, lips securing around it while he suckles and tastes you. He stays just like that for a while before his mouth finds the slick between your folds, and Joel pushes deeper, groaning at your flavor. 

Your hands claw into the bedsheets while he feasts on you. It feels as though Joel is the only damn thing that can bring you pleasure like this. Every tremble of your body beneath his mouth, every tense of the muscle in your thighs like you mean to crush his head between them—it’s entirely too much. You inhale sharply as Joel holds your thighs in his strong hands, pushing them apart to give himself unfettered access to your body. You can’t hide from him, and what’s more, Joel doesn’t want you to. He embraces you. He drinks you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters against your skin, pulling back for only a moment to catch his breath. “Seein’ you like this. I wanna feel you, baby. I want you to come on my tongue.”

You can’t find any words to offer him in response. You just whine, one hand gripping his messy hair while you pull him toward your core, urging him to continue, to let you finish. And you do. Joel lets you with the last several strokes of his tongue, stroking your clit while his fingers curl and pulse inside of you.

You’re a mess. You’ve soaked you both, and when Joel rises from his spot between your legs, he catches your lips against his. They’re soft, glimmering with evidence of your desire, and you you taste your own flavor sitting on his tongue.

“Shit,” you pant against his mouth. You’re still catching your breath, letting the muted colors of the room before you fall into view as you come down from your peak. Joel chuckles to himself as he kisses the edge of your jaw.

“You liked that?” He asks, and you’d think he was being a wiseass if he hadn’t sound so genuine.

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him again.

—

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned.

You’ve got Joel on his back now. He’d only gotten up to fetch the condom from his jeans’ pocket, but once he rejoined you in bed, you’d pushed him down, thrilling in the tiny pleasure of getting him beneath you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeats, staring up at you as you straddle his hips. “Fuck, I got lucky tonight. In more ways than one.”

You swat his arm playfully, leaning forward to nibble at his earlobe while one hand seeks out his cock. You’d thought the comedown from immensely satisfying oral sex might satisfy your need for him, but you’d been so fucking wrong.

“I’m going to make you sing,” you whisper in his ear, soft and knowing. Joel groans in response while you sink onto his cock, gradually allowing yourself to fully take him inside of you.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“You can take it, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers pressed into your hips. “I know you can. I’ve seen you do it.”

You whine as your hips begin to rock, and Joel matches your movements. You’d demand that you’d do all the work right now but fuck, the way he hits your body just like that is not something you have the ability nor the desire to protest.

He fills you and suddenly the whole world makes sense. He fills you and you’re not sure how you managed to endure the last week without him. Every thrust of his hips, every moan that falls from his perfect lips, every squeeze of his fingertips against your body is only further cause for you to become nearly addicted to it.

He watches you as your move in time with each other, as your breasts bounce to the rhythm you’ve set for each other. He grounds his weight into one broad palm, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting upright beneath your body. He lets you continue to ride him while he fucks you underneath your form, teeth grazing against the gentle curve of your chin.

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned. And without much warning, they promptly turn back. 

“So good,” he growls. “You gonna gimme another one? I know you have it in you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod, a desperate little wail escaping your mouth. Joel’s chuckle quickly turns into a moan as your walls clench and flutter around the hard line of his cock. He fucks you through it anyway, maintaining the pace you’ve built together.

“Good girl,” he rumbles in praise. “That’s my good fuckin” girl.”

Joel says that, and it’s all over. Joel says that, and you tumble over the crest he’s forged for you. You come and he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks. You shatter and he kisses your temple and tells you to go a little longer and you do. You fucking do. You might follow Joel to the ends of the goddamn earth if he asked that of you.

His forehead braces against yours while he meets his own edge. Your name is a groan in the back of his throat when he comes and it just might be the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

He hisses as you slide off of him, your bodies sweaty and sticky and warm, and a part of you thinks he’s immediately going to leave. A part of you thinks he’s going to grab his clothes and his keys and tell you he’ll call you again soon and you fear he never will.

It’s a fucking shame, how quickly you pull yourself from the supposed afterglow.

Joel’s breathing is labored but he kisses you despite it, his hand coming up to run through your messy head of hair.

He holds you in your own bed. Your back is flush against his chest while he asks you questions about your life: how long have you lived in Austin? How long have you been a teacher? What’s your favorite book to teach? The softness of it causes your heart to squeeze while you share the answers with him.

You’re just about to reciprocate his questions with some of your own before a ringtone sounds, but this one doesn’t belong to your phone.

“Sorry,” Joel apologizes as he releases his hold on you, sliding out of bed. He pulls on his jeans, grabbing his phone from his back pocket before he takes the call.

You sit up, listening to one end of the conversation, and surmise it’s Joel’s daughter. His tone is gentle, reassuring, and it only furthers the pleasant ache in your chest. Until this point, you’ve only heard anecdotes of Joel’s adventures in fatherhood but never witnessed him engage in it.

He ends the call with a brief see you soon, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Was that your daughter?” You ask, sitting up.

“Yeah,” he says, swiping his shirt off your bedroom floor. “She was supposed to be stayin’ over a friend’s house, but they got in a fight and she asked me to pick her up. I don’t ask questions, I don’t have the brains to figure out…girl drama, but I gotta go.”

“Of course,” you say, and you’re not at all taken aback at his sudden leave. No, if Joel needs to get his daughter, that’s obviously paramount to pillow talk. There are no questions as he pulls on his boots and you pull your top overhead and your jeans over your legs.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes at your door. You shake your head and dismiss it immediately.

“Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “Please. Go get her.”

He kisses your cheek and gives your hand a little squeeze, and you revel in how it completely eclipses the size of your own.

“I’ll call you soon,” he tells you before he leaves.

Your apartment is quiet without him. You know you’ll replay the night in your head before you fall asleep, but before you do, you decide to prepare your apartment for a productive Saturday morning.

You prepare a pot of coffee, programming the machine to start brewing promptly at eight o’clock the next day. You toss the remaining wine from your glass and drain Joel’s beer down the sink, dumping the empty bottle into your recycling bin. You take your stack of essays from your tote, leaving them neatly on your kitchen table alongside a case full of newly-purchased gel pens. You know the version of you who wakes up tomorrow will be grateful for the care and preparation you’ve taken right now, to ready yourself for a productive morning.

The first essay in your stack belongs to Sarah Miller.

[th3worstinm3]

The Whole Damn World

okay so I might've gotten carried away? uh the idea is there I hope it's great and tell me if you'd like more parts to this because im debating if i should make it into a series or not :3 ALSO I CAN'T COME UP WITH A TITLE HELP ME WITH THAT AS WELL PLEASE

Noah x OFC (Olivia) (also this story isn't completely proofread so I'm sorry for any mistakes!!)

RPF -> Don't like it? Don't read

☆ | This story contains mentions of drugs and NSFW scenarios

There weren't many things that pissed off Noah, he was a pretty calm person, after all. It's just- her gaze on him is so damn annoying. Annoying because he can't help but stare back at her. Annoying because no matter how hard he tried not to, he liked it when she looked at him. Annoying because he craved it every day of his life.

You see, Olivia wasn't that popular of a girl, she wasn't even the prettiest in the class; still Noah couldn't help but be dragged towards her. Her skin was a light tan, and her eyes were annoyingly beautiful. Very light blue with tints of gray who stared right at his soul. Her hair was mid length, not too long, but not too short either; and it had a black color to it, dyed clearly because you could see her roots starting to show themselves. She had a fringe that covered the left side of her face, and she always wore the same jewelry every time. Her lips were pierced. Noah didn't know what it was about her that he liked so much; she was just another girl in the classroom, after all.

He wasn't the most popular either, but he had a couple friends in the class. He didn't really like them that much, they were junior year assholes who thought they were cool for having sex and smoking weed. Noah wasn't into that, he just wanted to finish school and continue doing what he loved the most; music. Even though the music scene and environment, especially the one he was in, the heavy one, involved a lot of fucked up things, he wasn't that kid. He wasn't a problem child, nah, he prefered to lock himself on his grandparents' basement and write his silly little tunes. Also, his grades were actually good, despite all the issues he's been having lately with his family.

But anyways, there he is, looking at her as she's distracted drawing something in her notebook. Chin in hand, all what the teacher was saying was long lost in his brain, as the only thing he could concentrate on right now was her. He sat a couple sits in front of and on the left of her. She always sat in a corner in the back of the class, next to the window. She liked looking outside at the birds. Noah eyed her arm as she placed a strand of hair behind her ear, and he saw tattoos. A Bring Me The Horizon tattoo. He didn't know she was into them. By her looks, you could've guessed she was into Tokio Hotel, or Emarosa.

He was interested now.

• ☆ •

P.E. class was the worst class, in Noah's opinion. He hated exercising. He always felt out of breath and he got tired easily. Just walking fast could get him agitated. He didn't like basketball. I mean, he liked watching games on TV, but he didn't like playing it, especially as a school subject. He stopped, wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and looked to his side. There she was, far away, sitting on the steps, drawing in her notebook with headphones on.

He thought about walking over to her and sitting next to her. He was about to even, when his teacher shouted his last name. He groaned and went back to the match, eyeing her one last time. The universe always found its way to fuck up everything whenever he tried to get closer to her. It was damn unfair. He wanted to get to know her more.

The bell rang, and he stopped harshly, panting slightly. He fucking hated p.e. class. Goddamn it. He looked up, and cheered on the inside when he saw she was still sitting, drawing and bobbing her head slowly. He wanted to sit down next to her, and talk to her, and see her. Just as he was about to pick up the courage to walk over to her, he saw her look to the side and place her headphones over her shoulders.

He looked at the same direction, and saw a group of girls calling her name. Oh. So she had friends after all. He saw how she tossed everything inside her bag, stand up tidy her clothes and walk over to the group. They all looked like her, so he guessed they were all pretty close. He sighed, giving up. Maybe next time.

• ☆ •

God he was tired as FUCK. All he wanted to do was sleep. Sleep and forget about the world and everything and everyone. Forget about his feelings and his so called "friends". Forget about her. He wanted to forget her, get her out of his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes she was there, and he despised that! Why couldn't she leave him alone?

Last night he stayed up late, 4:30am, writing something for his band. Three and a half hours writing for it to be thrown away with a "not our style." Fuck them, honestly fuck his bandmates. He cursed them. I mean, they were friends, of course! They just always found a way to get him pissed off; often commenting on his appearance, his body, his guitar playing skills. It was exhausting. Still, he knew he would be nothing without them. They got him out of many holes he had fallen in, and he thanked them for that. It's just, lately their relationship has been changing for the worse. He was starting to hang out with Nicholas more, and they didn't like that. They didn't like Nicholas, because he always told Noah he should leave the band, and he always blamed them for being the root of his insecurities. He was right, though. Maybe he should leave them and start a new chapter.

" Sebastian Davis. " He was taken by surprise. He quickly looked up, wide eyes, and everyone staring at him. He felt himself grow smaller on his seat. " Could you please read? It is your turn. " Teacher said. Noah hated literature class. The teacher was an old, fat woman who smelled bad with a horrible humor and she was always blaming him for everything. He cleared his throat, and realized he had forgotten the book at home. He looked down, and shaked his head. The teacher sighed, and called the next person. He heard his friends laugh at him and whisper something.

He wanted the Earth to swallow him whole.

He folded his arms over his desk, and placed his head on them, facing the window. It was a cloudy day, and he could see some lightning in the distance. He closed his eyes, listening to the girl behind him read. Her voice was a bit high pitched, kind of annoying, but bearable. He felt something hit his back. He groaned and loked back; his friends were laughing quietly. He rolled his eyes and decided to ignore them, going back to his original position.

" Miss Olivia, please continue. " The mentioned looked up from her notebook, nodded and then looked at her own book. Noah eyed her tiredly, analyzing her facial features. He found himself smiling slightly when she struggled to find the page. He shook his head and hid his face between his arms, deciding to ignore how adorable she looked when she pushed her glasses up with her index finger.

She started reading after a deep breath. Noah's eyebrows furrowed; this is the first time he's actually heard her voice. It was soft, kinda low. She had an accent, that's for sure, like English wasn't her first language; she still spoke it almost perfectly. Her voice was soothing. He found himself relaxing his shoulders. He wondered how that voice would sound like close to his ear, whispering his name. He shook the thoughts away once they started wandering further. Goddamn it Noah. The last thing he heard was her voice, before he unconsciously fell asleep.

•

A hand on his shoulder brought him back. He stirred tiredly and groaned, looking to his side with hooded eyes. There they were; eyes like diamonds staring back at him, eyebrows slightly furrowed and a small smile. Her face was pretty, her features soft as a porcelain doll. Now that he could see her closer, he noticed the freckles adorning her nose and cheeks. Cute.

" Uh, the class finished. You fell asleep and I figured you might want to go home. " She spoke, shy and small. He blinked a couple times, and straightened up when her hand left his body. He yawned and stretched, the folded position he fell asleep in making his muscles ache. She was still there standing, holding her notebook under her arm and her backpack hanged on only one of her shoulders. He looked around, they were alone, and he heard some talking from outside the room, along with shadows of people walking towards the exit. He saw her jump as thunder roared in the background. He found this annoyingly adorable. She was adorable.

She pulled the hood of her jacket to her head, and took one of the straps and played with it, looking at her feet which were slightly rocking forwards and backwards. " Are we leaving or do you wanna stay here... " She asked, almost in a whisper. His eyes widened, a slurred out apology leaving his lips. He quickly placed everything in his bag and stood up, grabbing the jacket from the back on his chair and putting it on clumsily. She tilted her head with a small smile. " Drop Dead? I have a lot of their merch. " She smiled. Noah looked at her. He was slightly taller than her, almost towering over her body.

A breathy "yeah" left his lips as he grabbed his bag, placing it a bit too harshly on his shoulders. He realized they were looking at each other.

Looking down and fringe hiding his rosy cheeks, he started walking towards the door. Small but fast steps followed after him, and he realized they were walking side to side. He smiled to himself and cheered on the inside. Big win. He congratulated himself; he was too shy to talk to girls, and way too insecure to ask them out, so walking side to side with a pretty girl was definitely a win. Still, he felt small around her; he wasn't the big handsome man, he was just a teenager with long hair who everyone called gay and insulted, and she was like- the prettiest girl in the world, in words of Noah.

His thoughts started wandering to that dark palace, and he started spiraling down; clearly no one in their right mind would want to be with him, there were other people way prettier than him and he was just a dirtbag who played in a band and listened to heavy music, the weirdo, some would say.

" Noah? " A soft voice spoke. He looked up; dark cinnamon met calm ocean. Her head was tilted and her expression denoted worry. He wanted to hear his name fall from her lips over and over again; he saved that memory in the things-to-jerk-off-to section of his brain. He then noticed she was covering herself with her arm. " You stopped walking, it's raining Noah you're getting wet, " She giggled. His eyes widened, noticing he was, indeed, soaked wet. He cursed under his breath. She smirked at him and started walking again; he noticed how she stepped in every puddle, slightly splashing water. He smiled to himself and followed behind her.

They were far away from the building, but they were still walking in the same direction. The thought they lived close to each other sparked hope in his heart, but his expression dropped when she stopped at a crossroads. " I'm going that way, " She pointed to the right; he had to go to the left. He groaned. " I uh... I'll see you tomorrow. " She smiled at him, and he felt his heart swell with love. He smiled sideways and held up a piece sign as he started walking backwards. She turned around, and went her way. He did the same.

[jacquelinemerritt]

Star Wars: Exploring the Canon - The Clone Wars Saga Part 1

Originally posted January 4th, 2017

In which we look at the first half of the canonical works set in the Clone Wars: the theatrical film, and the first three seasons of the TV show.

This review is part of a series of pieces on the entirety of the Star Wars canon. See them all here!

To preface this article, I want to try and point out the absurdity of following an article written about two films and a comic mini-series with an article written about six seasons of television, a comic mini-series, and a full-length novel. If you’re wondering why it has taken so long for me to get this part written, here’s your answer: there is just so much to write about that even after watching The Clone Wars all the way through, I wasn’t sure of where to start. We’re going to break this down by season though, starting by analyzing the first film and then tackling the show season by season until we reach the third. As for seasons 4-6, the comic, and the novel, expect me to cover them in my next installment.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

When I first saw the theatrically released Star Wars: The Clone Wars, I was incredibly dismayed. I thought it was a disgrace to have a Star Wars film released in theaters when that film told such a gutless story, took no risks, and had next to no consequence within the story’s universe. To be perfectly frank, I think all of that is still pretty true. The film tells the story of Anakin and his new apprentice, Ahsoka Tano, being called away from a battle on the world Christophsis in order to rescue the son of Jabba the Hutt (yes, you read that right, Jabba has a fucking kid), and it quickly devolves into four seemingly separate “episodes” that never actually feel like a full story but technically are all connected. The ridiculousness of this plot combined with a bad sense of humor brings it down, and there is no way this film deserves to be a part of the theatrical Star Wars canon.

But, just because the film fails as a theatrically released Star Wars film doesn’t mean that it fails on other terms. See, this “film” isn’t really a film, but rather a bafflingly marketed and constructed television pilot that combines four episodes meant to introduce the characters of The Clone Wars TV show and set up the lighthearted tone the show holds onto for its first season. In that respect, Clone Wars actually works. Each of the four set-pieces of the pilot all accomplish different things: the first set-piece on Christophsis establishes Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship as it will play out for the rest of the show and introduces Ahsoka Tano, surprisingly selling Anakin taking her on as an apprentice pretty well; the second section introduces the clone army as actual characters, rather a faceless proxy army, Captain Rex, and Asajj Ventress while letting us see Anakin’s first attempts at being a teacher; the third set-piece introduces Padme Amidala and the political and underworld arenas of Coruscant she’ll reside in; and the fourth set-piece introduces Count Dooku as he will be presented throughout the entire series, allowing Christopher Lee to transition him from an adversarial mastermind into an over-the-top campy villain.

Don’t get me wrong. As far as TV pilots go, it’s a little underwhelming and not the most interesting thing you’ll ever see (even if you’re grading it on a curve for being the pilot of an animated kids’ show). But it works a damn sight better as a TV pilot than it ever could as a feature film, and had it aired as a two-hour special on Cartoon Network like was originally planned, it would not have gotten nearly the level of backlash it did from fans and critics like me who found it intensely underwhelming.

That’s really it. There isn’t much to talk about with this film. It has a consistently annoying tone, no real thematic tissue holding things together, and the performances by most of the actors are fairly underwhelming. The only standouts on display are Christopher Lee, reprising his role as Count Dooku for the final time (I know it’s been said, but this guy seriously never gave a bad performance in his career), Samuel L. Jackson, reprising his role as Mace Windu (you could make the same argument with this guy too), and Matthew Wood, who voices the battle droids in this film. Now, let’s be real, the decision to make the battle droids constant comedic cannon fodder is dumb, but Matthew Wood sells it like a pro, imbuing the droids with a level of personality that makes their poorly written attempts at comedy come off as charming, and when the writing of these jokes improves across the series, Wood is right there ready to use that material to make the droids pretty funny at times.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 1)

This is probably the best time to point out that Star Wars: The Clone Wars is really weird to watch because for some unfathomable reason it was aired, written, and produced out of chronological order. This makes viewing it chronologically on Netflix a pain, because you have to bounce around a whole lot just to see the first three seasons in their proper order, and as a result you see glimpses of the improvements in writing and storytelling from the later seasons but are still forced to sit through the slog of the first season that’s only interested in telling safe, episodic stories that don’t challenge the characters or the audience in any significant way. For what it’s worth, it’s still probably the best order to view the series in, as it paints a much more complete picture of the Clone Wars itself, but I found myself annoyed with the logic of airing and producing the episodes out of order, regardless of whether I watched it in the order it aired or the chronological order.

This strange ordering of episodes also isn’t helped by the fact that it pushes the series premiere episode, which is a genuine delight, to being seen after about five episodes and the feature film pilot. It is definitely a better introduction to the goals and aims of the writers than the feature film ever was.

The premiere episode of The Clone Wars follows Yoda on a diplomatic mission to persuade the king of the Toydarians to join the Republic. The episode’s main conflict arrives when Yoda’s vessel is attacked by a Separatist warship and he must land on the surface with only three clones by his side. Meanwhile, Count Dooku and Asajj Ventress are attempting to lure the king of Toydaria into joining the Separatists by proving to him that the Separatists are more capable of protecting him and his people than the Jedi and the Republic. Ventress challenges Yoda to make it to their location by nightfall, and Yoda accepts, battling an army of droids with the help of those clones in order to reach the king.

This is a fairly basic premise with clearly defined stakes and characters, and in the hands of George Lucas, it probably would have turned into twenty minutes of Yoda engaging in meaningless conflict where he doesn’t run into any significant challenges. In the hands of Dave Filoni’s team, however, this episode becomes a chance to reclaim the character of Yoda as he was presented in the original trilogy, and it’s truly amazing to see this Yoda again. Unlike in the entirety of the prequel trilogy, the Yoda we get to see is not the introspective mopey Yoda, but the silly, unpredictable guru that pranks Luke in order to test and teach him. Yoda’s students in this episode are the clones that travel with him, and he asserts to them that they are not the same faceless drones that Lucas intended, but unique individuals with differing skills and internal lives. Filoni’s team even has the wisdom to play Yoda’s strange behavior and unpredictability directly into fight scenes, as he outthinks droids with ease and uses risky strategies to play the droids’ advantage in numbers against themselves. By letting us see Yoda the incorrigible trickster again, The Clone Wars lets us know that it cares about recapturing the wonder and magic of the original trilogy, and that makes this first episode an incredible introduction to the show.

This episode also makes clear another one of Filoni’s goals, albeit in a much subtler manner. As I mentioned last time, the Toydarians as they are presented in The Phantom Menace are a harmful racial caricature of Jewish people, and that racism makes parts of The Phantom Menace pretty difficult to watch. This episode, however, hints at the way the Toydarians will be treated throughout the rest of the show. It shows the Toydarians as a peace-loving people that draw on a cultural heritage with an uncanny resemblance to ancient Judaism. This comes through far less in this episode than it does in later episodes, but throughout the show, the Toydarain people are essentially the equivalent of the Kingdom of Israel under the rule of King Solomon. They are incredibly wealthy and influential, they have a rich, long-standing culture, and they are ruled by a wise King who ultimately desires nothing but peace. I will admit that my connection with my Jewish heritage is a bit weak, so I am not the best person to judge whether this is still hurtful, but it seems to me that by keeping the Toydarian connection to Judaism and replacing racial caricature with a connection to a great cultural heritage, Filoni’s team effectively reclaims the Toydarians. This isn’t to say that their work makes the racism of the first film any less hurtful–far from it–but it adds a dimension to this alien race that, in my eyes, makes them far less hurtful to be associated with.1

Most of the rest of the first season doesn’t quite hit the heights this episode does, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t solid episodes throughout. Some standouts are “Rookies,” which introduces us to the character Fives as he and other newly deployed squadmates fend off a commando droid attack; “Lair of Grievous,” which is twenty minutes of General Grievous kicking serious ass when Dooku betrays him and sets a trap for him in his own home; “Dooku Captured,” where we first meet the pirate scoundrel rapscallion Hondo Ohnaka (voiced by the ever perfect Jim Cummings) after he captures Count Dooku; “Trespass,” which introduces us to the Talz people and sets up an interesting conflict between an authoritarian military society and a young woman who believes in the power of diplomacy; and “Hostage Crisis,” wherein a group of bounty hunters hold a group of Senators and Anakin hostage in order to break Ziro the Hutt out of prison.

There are two episodes in Season 1 that manage to be as strong if not stronger than the premiere and those episodes are “Jedi Crash” and “Defenders of Peace.” These episodes contain some downright excellent storytelling. They challenge Ahsoka by making her face the potential death of her master, forcing her to come to terms with the Jedi Code’s requirement to remain unattached, and they then quickly challenge the entirety of the Jedi order. We meet the Lurmen, a pacifist group of monkey-like creatures that culturally resemble aboriginal and African tribes, and they explain to the Jedi that their role in the Clone Wars has spread more pain and suffering across the galaxy than it has relieved. Their chief even points out the hypocrisy of the Jedi espousing a philosophy of peace while taking on a role as military generals! The episode moves from that point to challenge the Lurmen chief, as he must accept that pure pacifism isn’t an adequate philosophy when their village is attacked by Separatist forces testing out an experimental weapon, and the younger generation has to stand up and fight so the older generation’s insistence on absolute pacifism doesn’t get them all killed.

It’s seriously really good. And George Takei is in it too. Go watch it now even if you’ve already seen it. I promise you’ll thank me afterwards.

What’s wrong with the rest of the season then? Well, nothing really major. It’s passable kids’ television, but most of the episodes I haven’t mentioned by name don’t offer any challenges at all. The closest we get are in the episodes set on Ryloth, wherein a revolutionary insurgent is forced to work with a Senator he believes is corrupt and uncaring (who on the reverse believes the insurgent to be power hungry and after control of the planet), but these two characters aren’t given enough screentime beforehand for this to be meaningful to us. The other episodes are even worse, with the episodes surrounding the Separatist battleship Malevolence being solely concerned with sending the characters on MacGuffin quests and having them triumph due to Anakin being a better military strategist than Grievous. It’s fine, and well-constructed I guess, but it’s honestly pretty boring and uninteresting, and the next time I watch this show, I imagine I’ll be skipping past most of these episodes.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 2)

The second season of Clone Wars is about as solid a season of television as I can possibly imagine.

To be clear, it’s not the greatest season of television I have ever seen. But damn is it good. Pretty much every single episode in this season either challenges the characters personally, raises the stakes for conflict in the universe, or calls the morality of the Republic and Jedi Order into question. It starts off with “Holocron Heist,” in which badass bounty hunter Cad Bane breaks into the Jedi Temple and steals a holocron for Darth Sidious in order to kidnap Force-sensitive children across the galaxy. And then there’s “The Deserter,” where Captain Rex meets a clone trooper who went AWOL and established a family on an unoccupied planet, “The Mandalore Plot,” which has Mandalorians being awesome and Obi-Wan being a massive flirt, “Cat and Mouse,” which has Anakin piloting a stealth fighter against a Separatist general who is literally the only person who knows how to fight against those…

If I wanted to, I could spend a lot of time writing about each and every episode and their strengths, but that would take way too long, so you’re just going to have to trust me when I say that the entire season is solid as hell. Instead, we’re going to take a look at two standout story arcs that take place over multiple episodes in Season 2 and dissect them in detail to look at why they work as well as they do.

The first arc we’re going to look at are the episodes that follow Anakin, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Barriss, and Luminara as they lead Republic forces in the Second Battle of Geonosis in order to destroy a droid factory that has been recaptured by Separatist forces. Our heroes arrive with a massive Republic force, but the Separatists have them outnumbered even still. Their plan doesn’t survive first contact with the enemy, and Anakin and Ahsoka are forced to fight their way through immense odds just to get to their original landing point. After they are reunited, Anakin and Luminara work together to serve as a distraction while Ahsoka and Barriss sneak into the droid factory in order to plant explosive charges and stop the production of endless reinforcement for the Separatists.

What makes “Landing at Point Break” and “Weapons Factory” special isn’t really their plot. The mission our heroes are on isn’t particularly complicated, nor is it even that novel of a story idea (especially considering that we’ve already seen a pretty boring Battle of Geonosis in Attack of the Clones). These episodes are special because they completely shatter the perception of the Jedi as genuinely unstoppable warriors that dominates the prequel trilogy and most of the episodes of this show. Anakin and Ahsoka’s fight to reach Obi-Wan is desperate, and while at no point do they stop being powerful warriors, they are quickly forced to turn to clever tactics and their wits in order to get past the Separatist forces that would block them from their goal.

That same desperation is present in Ahsoka and Barriss’s quest to infiltrate the droid factory. They’re forced to sneak through behind enemy lines, going through a hornet’s nest where any wrong move will get them caught and lead to their failure. And you know what the writers decide to do? They have Ahsoka and Barriss make one mistake, wake one Geonosian, and when that Geonosian catches up to them, their mission is nearly brought to complete failure and they are forced to bunker down in a droid assault tank in order to both set off their own explosion and have a chance at survival. They are then stuck underneath a mountain of rubble and debris with little oxygen, and Ahsoka only barely manages to send out a signal to Anakin using her communicator, letting him know they’re still alive and leading him to continue the search until they’re rescued. These episodes are tense and filled with danger, and I find it genuinely impressive that Filoni’s team was able to get such great mileage out of a story that so easily could have turned into a retread of the battle from Attack of the Clones.

The next two episodes we’re going to look at are “The Zillo Beast” and “The Zillo Beast Strikes Back,” which besides being regrettably named, are filled with some of the most interesting and challenging material in this series. These episodes follow Anakin and Mace Windu, whose use of an electro-proton bomb on the planer Malastare causes an ancient beast to awaken in a clear nod to the Godzilla film franchise. This beast is genuinely fearsome, as its scales are strong enough to resist even a lightsaber, but Mace Windu and Anakin argue against Malastare’s leaders, who want to kill the Zillo, as to do so would be to take the innocent life of a creature that is the last of its kind. Anakin is eventually able to argue that the creature’s impervious scales would be useful for military research, so he and Mace Windu devise a plan to stun the beast and take it back to Coruscant, in order to trick the Malastare leaders into believing it is dead. When the Zillo arrives on Coruscant however, Palpatine quickly pushes to kill the beast using Malastare fuel, which the creature is weak to, and when his scientists fail to administer a lethal dose, the Zillo breaks free and wreaks havoc on the streets of Coruscant in a number of clear nods to Godzilla and King Kong. Eventually, the Jedi are able to kill the beast by hitting it with a lethal dose of fuel, and despite the lives they managed to save, all of the Jedi deeply regret the loss of the Zillo beast’s life.

The nods to Godzilla and King Kong are some of the coolest things about these episodes, but beyond that, these episodes have some pretty challenging thematic content. For one, this is the first time we get to see the Jedi Order faced with a legitimate moral dilemma, as for a lot of reasons, killing the Zillo is pretty defensible, but it still goes in direct violation of their Code. They decide against killing the Zillo, but because of their use of deception and pragmatist arguments, the Zillo ends up being put in a place where it will have even more power to do harm, close to a person who wants it to harm people so it can be put down rather than kept alive. In a lot of ways, Anakin and Mace Windu’s decision to bring the beast back to Coruscant is reckless and misguided, and we are shown just how blind the Jedi are to the dark forces that surround them on their homeworld. It is this blindness that leads them to do the very thing they sought to avoid: taking the life of an innocent creature that is likely the last of its kind. The shadows of the Dark Side are everywhere, and when the Jedi are too blind to see their own mistakes, innocents like the Zillo end up suffering more than the Jedi ever will.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (Season 3)

This is where it starts to get incredible.

Like, really fucking incredible beyond anyone’s wildest expectations.

Season 3 of The Clone Wars does more to expand the mythology of the Star Wars Universe than George Lucas has done since the release of Return of the Jedi.

I hear what you’re saying. “Jacqueline, how can you possibly make that claim? Lucas made three prequel films after Jedi that included important details on the world of Star Wars, the Republic, and Jedi Order that it’s impossible for a single season of television to outdo that.” Lucas did a lot after Jedi, and I am not trying to deny him or his importance to this universe. George Lucas, however, was entirely wrapped up in his goal of telling a story about a fascist government’s rise to power, and in focusing on those political details, he lost sight of the wonder and mystique that makes the Star Wars Universe as compelling as it is. Dave Filoni and his team, however, do everything they can to further Lucas’s message in the prequel trilogy, and they do that without losing sight of the fascinating mysticism surrounding the Force, the prophecy of the chosen one, and the tug and pull of balance between light and darkness that defines the universe.

Now, there legitimately isn’t a bad episode in this season, but like last time, two arcs told over multiple episodes rise to the top and that’s what we’re going to focus on.

The first arc that does this is the Nightsisters arc, which follows Asajj Ventress after she is betrayed by Count Dooku and left for dead. She manages to survive her ship being fired upon by another Separatist warship, and she returns to her home planet to the witches of Dathomir in order to find her heritage and get help in her quest for revenge against her former master. She and the seemingly invincible witch Mother Talzin first target Dooku directly, sending Ventress and two Nightsisters in with cloaking magic and a poison designed to weaken Dooku and make him easy to kill. Dooku is still a force to be reckoned with, however, and he dispatches Ventress and her sisters without significant difficulty. Ventress and Talzin then hatch a more sinister plan, testing the males on the far side of Dathomir until they find one who is worthy and take control of his mind so he can be planted as a traitor in Dooku’s ranks. When Dooku takes this man, named Savage Oppress,1 under his wing and trains him as an apprentice, Ventress sneaks into Dooku’s vessel and makes Savage turn on his new master. Her plan fails, however, and Savage quickly regains control of his mind and turns on the both of them, escaping back to Dathomir and seeking guidance from Mother Talzin, who tells him of a “brother” he must seek while showing him a vision of the Sith Lord Darth Maul, a Zabrak and Dathomir Nightbrother just like him.

We’ll talk about Maul next time, when we actually get to see him in action, but suffice it to say, closing out a set of episodes that explores the dark mysticism of the Star Wars Universe by promising the return of one of Star Wars’ most badass villains is a pretty risky decision, as is the depth of exploration of the Dark Side that we get to see here. The Nightsisters are absolutely fascinating on their own as a less-than-savory mystical underbelly that neither identifies as Jedi or Sith, and Mother Talzin is an imposing figure who, if she did not prefer to keep to herself and her coven, would be a far greater threat to the galaxy than the Sith could ever dream of being.

Of course, the main attraction of these episodes is that they finally put Asajj Ventress to use as the complex character she was always meant to be. Ever since I was a little girl watching Genndy Tartakovsky’s Clone Wars animated mini-series, I’ve been obsessed with this character. She has such a rich and tragic backstory, and as a young girl with her own demons boiling up under the surface, Ventress appealed to me with her mastery of the Dark Side, dual lightsabers, and dominatrix-like attitude (which is turned up to a ten in The Clone Wars, as she is referred to as Mistress by everyone around her). Up until Season 3 though, The Clone Wars didn’t really put her to good use. Sure, she was an assassin, and she had those dual lightsabers, but in this show she has been far less of a pure, unadulterated badass, as she’s the villain and the heroes have to beat her.

These episodes turn that on its head perfectly. Dooku’s betrayal of her makes sense, in only the way an abuser’s decision to abuse can; she has consistently failed to achieve victory against the Jedi after all, and as we see her backstory unfold over a few short flashbacks, watching her being taken from her family as a child and witnessing the murder of the Jedi who taught her how to use the Force, Dooku’s betrayal becomes an opportunity for her to finally exert some agency over all of the horrible things that have happened to her. She will have revenge against Dooku, because damnit, this is the first time she’s ever been powerful enough to strike back against the people who have hurt her the most. It becomes even more heart-wrenching to watch as any knowledge of the prequel trilogy’s storyline lets us know that she is doomed to fail in her quest for revenge, as Dooku survives until Revenge of the Sith to be killed by Anakin Skywalker. Despite having the power to strike back against her master with “dark magicks” and a monstrous warrior, she still ends up without enough power to take any emotional closure for herself through revenge.

The second arc of note in this season is the arc set on the planet Mortis, following Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan as an ancient distress signal calls them to an incredibly strange planet.

But I’m not going into detail on those episodes.

They are amazing. Make no mistake.

But I would not dare spoil the details of what happens in them to anyone who hasn’t seen them.

Trust me, just take my word on this, and go on Netflix, to Season 3 of Star Wars: The Clone Wars, and watch “Overlords,” “Altar of Mortis,” and “Ghosts of Mortis” right now. If you don’t watch anything else from this show (and seriously, you should, it’s great), then still watch these episodes. You don’t even need that much context to enjoy them, because as long as you accept that Anakin has an apprentice named Ahsoka, literally anything else you could need to know follows logically from Anakin and Obi-Wan’s characterizations in the prequel films. You have my word, a Jacqueline Merritt guarantee, that you won’t regret the time you spend checking these episodes out.

Next time, hopefully not two months from now, we’ll explore the rest of The Clone Wars, the comic Darth Maul: Son of Dathomir, and the novel Dark Disciple. See you then!

Critical Eye Criticism is the work of Jacqueline Merritt, a trans woman, filmmaker, and critic. You can support her continued film criticism addiction on Patreon.

1Any of my Jewish readers who disagree with my belief that the Toydarian’s are less hurtful because of their characterization in The Clone Wars are more than welcome to challenge me on that, as I am open to hearing any criticism of my argument here.

2I could also go into more detail on the character of Savage Oppress and how he is actually quite fascinating despite having an absolutely terrible name, but exploring his character is best left for our exploration of Darth Maul in the later seasons, as their arcs are fairly closely intertwined.

[peonac]

I’m so glad to have a friend who enjoys One Piece! How did you get into it? Do you have a favourite character? One you can’t stand? A favourite arc? Any fic recs?

I WAS FUCKING WAITING MY WHOLE LIFE FOR THIS ASK. NOT EVERYONE KNOWS IT BUT ONE PIECE IS THE SERIES OF MY LIFE. I CAN'T IMAGINE AN EXISTENCE WITHOUT IT!

probably the longest post I have ever made incoming:

I got into it in April 2003 (I was 11 at that time). Watching anime on TV was the only way for me and my brothers, there was no computer and internet around. We were hooked since episode 1 and never missed an episode, we would watch all the re-runs and be hyped about every epic moment and cry our eyes out at every tragedy or happy moment. Laughing our asses off at the jokes (Skypiea and Thriller Bark are imo the funniest!) And since then I'm a huge fan, though there were several years I lost touch. I picked up the series again a few months ago and stopped at the beginning of the Wano arc (due to low energy, yk how it is with taking care of the family etc).

And OMG I have so many faves!!! Nami!!! Her arc inspired me so much I took her name as my nickname. For a lot of rl friends, I'm just Nami, sometimes my teachers were confused and asked me if it's my middle name fklsdhfsjdůlkasd!!! She is so caring! Big sis vibes!

Zoro! He is so cool! Do I need to explain this? (also I find his relationship with women really interesting, the guy is so traumatized! And also he would literally die for you!) Devil Child Nico Robin. She is smart, powerful as hell and MORBID and her sense for cute things is just immaculate. The episode when she got to be part of the Strawhats is still one of my favorites. Maybe I'm mistaken but she is the only one that invited herself and not because Luffy told her so. I... okay, I will stop because otherwise, I will write a whole ass essay about her and why she is THE QUEEN of all queens!

The future king of the pirates Monkey D. Luffy! Period.

Trafalgar [redacted] Law.

*GRABS YOUR CHEEKS*

*PULLS YOU VERY CLOSE, OUR NOSES TOUCH*

You will understand once you watch more.

PERONA. I don't know why but I fell in love with her so hard I want for her to be real so I can propose to her! (but I also ship her with Zoro)

And here is a list of others I like: the whole strawhat crew (Jimbei ofc included), Sir Crocodile, Bartolomeo the Cannibal (I couldn't get enough of him, he is so silly), Donquixote Rosinante, Smoker, Tashigi (I ship her with Zoro too, wtf is with me to ship Zoro with so many characters!), Bon (Mr. 2), Boa Hancock, Bepo. I'm sure there are more, but I will stop here haha. I hate Donquixote Doflamingo, the Cipher Pol agents, Big Mom (she...I... she is a monster, like...wow), Buggy the Clown (imo the most pathetic anime guy in history, but the comedy around him is good), most of the Marines (what a bunch of assholes, really, it's a mirror to our world) and ugh, I'm sure there are more, but I can't remember XD! Fave arcs: Arlong Park, Loguetown, Alabasta Saga, Sky Island Saga, Enies Lobby, Thriller Bark, Summit War Saga And here begins the controversy, ofc I'm not including the Wano arc because I haven't seen it whole yet...But I'm not able to enjoy the after-time-skip arcs. Great animation moments, the story is amazing too, but the pacing is just so bad. So many fillers within the episodes too, Dressrosa was a torture to watch. So if I just judge it by story everything is great! Maybe reading the manga would be the better choice. But I didn't want to miss the great animation.

I haven't read any fics yet but I have a few in my marked for later list:

What I enjoy the most are artists that create nice little stories and AUs! I'm going to make a separate post and tag you, the list is too long!

[runekeepershymnal]

I don’t get nostalgic for a lot, but dang… 90s and early 00s animation programs. Like, not even necessarily a specific show, but there used to be these animation anthology shows at that time, which then became programming blocks.

There was a good chunk of time when a lot of us had no clue that the Japanese animation we were watching was from Japan. Like Voltron? Cartoons were cartoons were cartoons when you were in the single digits in the 80s and you had to physically change the channel yourself.

But there were two timeslots that were very dear to me: On Saturday mornings, the Sci Fi channel (long before it becamse Syfy) would air some anime movie or show (when I say show, I mean they’d pop the first VHS in a series in and air that, because that was all they had. I still don’t know what happens after the first bit of Record of Lodoss War).

But today, let’s start with the anime.

Among the things I first saw on the Sci Fi channel:

Akira. Yep. I mean, airing Akira at like 9 am on a Saturday was certainly a move, but I guess no one ever called them on it because it aired a bunch of times. Saturday morning body horror, baby.

Demon City Shinjuku. Again, another bold choice for 9 am on a Saturday, especially since this one always had the vibe that it could turn into hentai at any moment (this is one of those vibes that I only learned to identify later in life, in a “oh that’s why I felt vaguely suspicious” way.

Vampire Hunter D. I have to believe that this planted the seed for many dorks my age to become goths.

Lily C.A.T. (or was it L.I.L.Y. Cat?) Pretty straightforward Alien ripoff.

Tenchi Muyo In Love. Kinda hard to follow without context? Who are these people? What the fuck is Jurai? Why are all these women after that one specific dick? Thank you to all the Geocities and Angelfire pages who explained it to me.

Project A-ko. So… there are two women, one a freewheeling redhead and one an uptight bluehair, and for some reason they’re fighting over who gets to protect this extremely annoying blonde child.

I think Galaxy Express 999 might’ve been on there at some point?

Something involving police with tanks.

8-Man After, which was cool as fuck and I need to rewatch it.

Robot Carnival, one of the best fucking anthologies of all time, even though I distinctly remember some of it being problematic as fuck.

There was also zero information about what they would be playing. None. Like if you went to the channel that told you what was going to be on that day, and sat your happy ass down and waited for it to scroll around to the Sci Fi channel (a think you had to do because there was no manual scrolling), or looked it up in the actual physical little magazine that was the TV Guide, it would just say Saturday Anime with a two hour block. The selections were so unpredictable that it had the vibe of a substitute teacher just picking a tape at random. Sometimes it’d be the same movie or show multiple weeks in a row. There was a significant degree of only marginal fucks being given at best.

I so badly want to know how this block came about, because this was usually like, infomercial time. In fact, I think there might’ve been an hour long block of infomercials before and after. Like… who made this decision, that they would compete with actual Saturday Morning Cartoons kids blocks on network with whatever anime VHS they had kicking around at the time? Was this someone’s personal collection? Was this just what they happened to be able to get rights to? What the fuck happened to the rest of Record of Lodoss War?! Was volume two just always out of stock at Tower Records and FYE?

Eventually, Cartoon Network came along, with the Toonami block at first and then some things aired on Adult Swim, but I imagine that for a lot of people my age (so your parents… jesus, maybe some of your grandparents?) this was our first introduction to adult animation.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

[dauntlessdiva]

hi hi hi bites you <3

i love sending asks sooo much, it really is like letters! but if you'd prefer to dm, i'm cool with it!! if you have discord and wanted to share that with me too, that would be nice too :]

that makes sense! if i do anything else while listening to words being thrown at me, my ass will NOT be listening lmao. it's like my brain goes to space or something hjshjsh

OOOOO okay great picks!!! i think my fav from the tiny bit i saw is riz, he's very cringefail to me

honestly by the description given about bridgerton, i dunno if i would like it? but no offense though as i am very picky about shows and movies

your family stuff is so cute i'm sobbing i love this whole thing :((

i know vintagebeef from hermitcraft!!! and i also love etho ^_^ i started watching his season 7 series and i stopped since my hyperfix went away. i should continue again soon!! it's so lovely to hear of someone enjoying a creator for so long

i didn't know you could do that??? that's so cool??? also what are marbled cookies? i don't believe i've heard of them?

that's very sweet, i love how crochet projects can be so personal. it's so cute!!!

YOOO??? i like a few noah kahan songs but i definitely love chappell and hozier too!!! i had a huge hozier hyperfix some months ago, i adore his music forever oughhhh......

and replying to more tags: i love to yap too dude, it's so fun lol, great hobby :3 also thank you, you're such a sweetheart too <333

AND AND sorry for the late reply, i have been caught up in a huge distraction world today of horribly consuming youtube videos rippp

Omg omg hi!!! 👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻

I don't get a lot of asks tbh so this is super fun!

I do have discord, it's chronicallymars

My adhd ass would not have survived school at any level if I wasn't allowed to doodle while the teacher talked. Because if I couldn't either do something with my hands or stare at a wall the whole time, I would zone the fuck out.

(I once nearly got in trouble in like grade 1 because I was staring at my classmates' art on the walls while my teacher was talking, so she did that thing teachers do when they don't think you're paying attention, where they call on you and ask what they were just saying, and shocked the shit out of her when I correctly restated her lesson for her)

Oooh Riz is so cringefail! That's hoestly one of his best qualities.

Bridgerton is like. A regency era au fanfiction but it's a tv show. There's also a book series. The books came first. You might enjoy the books more than the tv show?

The show follows the book series' style of having each individual book/season be about the romance between one of the Bridgerton's and their love interest.

Also, their first initials are alphabetical in oder of birth, so the eldest is Anthony, and the youngest is Hyacinth.

I love my family. We enjoy each other's company.

You are the first person I have talked to about minecraft who actually knows who Vintagebeef is omg!

I have periods of time that I will just forget that Beef exists for a bit tbh and then one of his videos pops up on my yt page and I get super into him all over again.

I don't watch bdubs as much as I used to but that's another one I used to love watching play mindcrack!

It's marble cake but as cookies! I make them using this cake mix cookie recipe:

And I do one box of golden and one box of either chocolate fudge or devils food cake. Once the dough has chilled for at least 15 minutes, I pull both bowls out and start mixing them together by hand. But I try not to mix them too much, because you still want to be able to see the different colours.

This is the blanket I made for my best friend's little boy!

I love croecheting, because it really does feel the most like I've made something from nothing. Like when I draw, the page is already there, I'm just putting ink on it, right? But with crochet, I am taking a giant ball of yarn and making it into something else.

Chapell Roan is bringing 80s synth pop back and I love that so much for her.

And Hozier is fucking ethereal dude. His voice sounds like that of a siren come to lure unsuspecting sailors into the depths.

I'M SEEING FALL OUT BOY AT A LOCAL MUSIC FESTIVAL NEXT MONTH AND I AM SO HYPED FOR IT!

The festival is full of punk/pop punk faves. It's headlined by Billy Talent and Fall Out Boy, but it's also gonna have bands like We The Kings, Dashboard Confessional, Jimmy Eat World, grandson, and LØLØ!

I'm going with my other bestie and her brother, so it's gonna be a good time regardless of who's playing, but holy fuck it's Fall Out Boy!

(I have no clue if you like that kinda music or not, but if you do then you totally get why I'm so excited lol)

I also love to yap, so we are two peas in a pod here omfg.

And oof I get that. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten distracted from a text convo because I've fallen down the youtube rabbit hole again lmao

[thecultofmalcom]

So. Its out. This is obviously pretty awesome sauce (sorry not sorry jas) and like.

wow.

so it started, middle/late 2011, almost 12 years ago. Some silly little university kids making a stupid horror puppet show. Becky Sloan and Joseph Pelling, creating Dont Hug Me Im Scared. What a way to start of the 2010s huh.

After a series of short videos, created for the Kickstarter, the sequel was created. Tony The Talking Clock was he spectacle of 2014 tumblr, eventually winning the most coveted title a fictional outcast could probably get, ‘Tumblr Sexyman.’ The fandom at this time was WILD, with the whole IceHell genre and the ‘Paige x Tony’ fanatics. Not to mention that kids react video.

At this same year, my personal skrunkle scrimblo came around. The Love Cult was introduced by the ringleader Shrignold, worshipping a stone who they fed gravel. Nobody knows why or how the living FUCK they managed to start a cult like this, but here we go. This was the first time the gang was seen outside, and this circled around Yellow Guy (whos a pig??)

Along comes 2015, introducing the absolute LEGEND, COLIN. THE. COMPUTER. Legend in the making, stupid self absorbed fucktwat, and the computery guy!! Also, the outro was a bop. By now, the DHMIS community had grown a fanbase, the watch count of the series so far over 3 Million!!1!

AND NOW. THIS IS WHEN SHIT GETS REAL!!

dhmis five. the talking point of every internet kids trauma. This episode was about being helfy!,2 Joined by the silly goofy Healthy Band, duck guy and yellow (red guy, whered he go?) learned all about why you shouldnt eat food from a strangers plate!! What made DHMIS special was its unsettling gore, which was shown perfectly in the scene where duck gets his. organs took out! graphically! Awesome!

then the finale came. dhmis 6, 2016, 6. years ago now. 6 whole years. introducing the harsh reality of the real world, the absoloute CHAD which we call Larry, Lars, Larson, Lamp Guy, THE LAMP1!11 Teaching (drunk, on drugs, sleep deprived, who knows?) yellow guy all about the wonderful dreams you can have, including eating a drink, buying a hat, losing your friends and drowning in oil of course! This episode was what made this whole puppet show a real nightmare. skrunkle yellow guy gets (unfortunately) mind-tortured by all the teachers, including the saxaphone. still really wanna know how to buy a canoe. At the end, we finally found out who was the brains behind all of this, none other than yellow guys DAD himself, ROY. This is why, perhaps, this whole fever dream nightmare was based around June 19th Fathers day. This is what, we all though, the end was. 5 years of youtube wonder, Becky Joe and Baker created a phenomenon that shocked the internet in perhaps a million different ways. But the positive feedback was overwhelming, woohoo!

By now, the improvement was MASSIVE. as shown below :

And now. This is when we all thought it was over. Until 2 years later, in 2018, all hope was lost. Until those 2 words,

WAKEY WAKEY!!

this was a 30 second short trailer for the DHMIS Pilot, showing at the 2019 Sundance film festival!

This is where it gets a bit weird, because not only is the original Wakey Wakey deleted, the full thing was never shown anywhere else. the only surviving footage of this was the bad quality pirated videos , with those 2 girls laughing thunderously in the background. A new sexyman, MEAN STEVE (🤤, sorry not sorry) WAS INTRODUCED! WE ALL WANNA SEE HIM IN HIS FULL METAL STICK GLORY! But nah we didnt get that. We didnt get a show, which we all because suspicious of.

well. thats what we thought.

2020. the year of the corona. no hope, isolation. until a lovely woman named Becky Sloan posted a lil thing on her instagram. ‘Were making a tv shooowwww! 📺👀📺👀📺👀📺👀’ AND THIS IS WHERE IT GOT WILDER AWESOMER EPICER!!! WE WAITED AND WE WAITED AND WE FINALLY GOT SOME CONFIRMATION! THIS WAS AWESOME! it got picked up by a charity project by the name of BFI YAC,, hoping to pick up on small industries work! AND IT DID!

time went by, still no show. we all thought it was over, cancelled, whatever.

2021 ROLLS PAST.

FILMING WAS WRAPPED! IN THE TIME WE WERE ALL GRIEVING AT THE THOUGHTS OF NO TV SHOW, THEY WERE WORKING ON IT THE WHOLE TIMEEE!!

‘WAKEY WAKEY’ as the fandom called it at the time, was coming!

now we wait. until FEB 25 2022. They finished the final sound recording. It was all done, we were all waiting for that special day, June 19th

, Fathers day. , 3 months ago.

and what did we get?

FLY.

THE TRAILER FOR THE NEW SHOW, PREMIERING CHANNEL 4 IN SEPTEMBER!! OH !EM GEE!

Now, we were all anticipating for the new series, we waited EXTREMELY PATIENTLY for this, 4-5 years no less. Honestly we shoulda won an award for the most patient fandom at this point.

SEPTEMBER 2022!

WE GOTTA GET THINGS READY FOR THS BIG DAY! BIG DAY! THE TRAILER WAS OUT! COMING SEPTEMBER 13TH!

but then, disaster struck! ohh no!

HRH Queen Elizabeth fell ill and kicked the bucket. Obviously , this meant not only is the country in ruins now lol! (fuck liz truss basically) But the show (we thought) was in jeopardy! (not really) The 10 days of mourning began, and the All 4 Website announced that the show would be slightly delayed, but coming this month.

THIS MONTH! NOW! FRIDAY 23RD, 2022. THE BIG DAY HAS ARRIVED! 6 SHINING BRAND NEW EPISODES, PREPARED FOR THE BIG TV DEBUT FRIDAY 30TH SEPTEMBER!

THE IMPROVEMENT, BY NOW WAS STUNNING AWESOME EPIC!! LOOKLOOKLOOK!

this new series, which is 1 day old!! fresh new awesome! is AMAZING! 3 WHOLE HOURS FULL OF OUR FAVE TRAFFIC LIGHT TRIO!

(Yes. we know, you still find red guy sexy.)

(AND COLIN. AND THE LAMP. AND A BIT OF TONY TOO!)

JUST THREE OF THEM! CLAYHILL HAD, UNFORTUNATELY, SHRIVELLED UP OR SOMETHING! (I RECKON)

this was obviously a sign that Wakey Wakey is now Lost Media. But we got this! all thanks to that one silly dumb stupid epic 3 minute long short on youtube, made by 2 people, in their free time, DONT HUG ME IM SCARED!

This post is basically, appreciation for Becky Joe and Baker, and the fandom, and everyone who helped in the making of this phenomenon!

Along the way, we’ve encountered our askblogs, most notably @sketchbook-and-tony-adventures !! And the awesome, probably most noted artists of DHMIS tumblr, the epic awesome amazing @amii-stuff @frootrollup? whats the username again? @hecklefreckled & @bernold ! Obviously more as well but i honestly dont remember the usernames :/ And our epic news sharer @creative-time !! Thanks you guys! And some awesome others, like @creechurfoundincheckerboardvoid @dhmispaint and the bezzie mate @xzumichannn !! Woohoo! Thank you guys so much, without this crazy massive fandom, we probably wouldnt have even got this far, crazy right!

So far, the best moments of this 2011-2022 era for me have been

- ‘Where are all you nasty clockfuckers! did you finally fuck that clock?’

- Sketch has a small face

- LisWeegee Adventures In Lurning dubs

- Whoever the heck that spanish dhmis gacha person is!

- That one ‘No bitches’ meme with shrignold :

- My amazing askblog i could never be bothered to do!

- Whoever that tiktok guy is

- “FREELANCERS DESERVE TO DIE!”

- Money Man. Deserves to be a sexyman fr!

- “BYE GUYS! I LOVE YOU!”

- Hearing the first few seconds of the first episode intro. those bells man. something, a feeling im never gonna feel again. ever. something i could experience only once.

The only bad thing. LAMPS SOBERED UP?? WHERED THE DRUGGIE INSOMNIAC VOICE GO?

Anyways. I love yall your all awesome, were finally trending on tumblr again, and we all have worms in our brain!

What have we got to look forward to now?

- DELTARUNE NEW CHAPTERS, 2023? The finale will probably be ready for 2027…

thats literally it. sorry. Hazbin Hotels coming to tv? i guess? lol.

this is obviously a national highlight of 2022 🥱 well no. Its internationally an internet milestone. duh!

LONG LIVE DHMIS!!

[dothwrites]

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

[dragonmuse]

Hello! First, absolutely in love with your Leda!Verse series!! Honestly your writing gets me through my day so thank you for doing what you do!

To my ask - I really enjoyed how Izzy's home is a reflection of his character. With that in mind, do you ever see Izzy reaching a point in his growth where he's willing to have anyone other than Lucius over to his house?

(yesss, growth! and thank you so very much! Let's have a little shall we:)

Mary: I’ll be in town next week. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee? 

Izzy stared at the phone. He considered his options. On the one hand, if he handled this on his own, he would probably fuck up. On the other hand, if he asked Lucius for help, the mockery would be vicious. 

Fuck. 

Izzy: Mary wants to meet up.

The response was so immediate that Lucius must’ve been fucking around on his phone, instead of finishing a commission. 

Lucius: I don’t know if I’m excited for you or if I just want to watch this play out like reality tv.

Izzy: She just likes talking art. She wants to meet for coffee.

Lucius: Just invite her over. She knows you aren’t hitting on her and if she asks, tell her you like to continue breathing in front of new friends. You’re really kinky that way.

Izzy: Here?

Lucius: Yeah, goblin. Cope and deal. It’ll build character or something. My PE teacher used to yell that at me a lot.

With that rousing pep talk, Izzy got back to Mary. To his surprise, she eagerly accepted. He did not google ‘how to have a friend over’ because that would’ve been the death knell to his ego, but he was sorely tempted. Instead, he decided that he might as well make her a decent lunch.

The day before she came over, he did a sweep of the apartment, but it was as clean as it ever was. He folded the blanket over the back of the couch, but he didn’t tidy away the other signs of Lucius’ presence. They probably made the place look slightly more rational. The pile of books on the table, the candle (a new one, they’d burned through a few at this point. The latest one had a note of cedar that he liked), and a spare red cardigan tossed over the arm of the treadmill from the last time he was over and got cold. There was far more in the bedroom: clothes, books, pencils and a half-drunk glass of water that Izzy left as it was until told otherwise. That was actually giving him a bit of a migraine, but whatever. Orders were orders. 

The point was, it looked like a place someone lived. So that was good. Probably. 

“Oh, what a nice place,” Mary said warmly when he opened the door for her. She was in business casual, but there was paint on one cuff of her shirt. It made him breathe a little easier though he couldn’t say why. “I’m so glad you hung this one! I liked it so much.” 

She gravitated to the picture he’d put up in the hall.  He’d taken it lying on his back, tucked away from a target. He’d caught a feather adrift. It seemed to go with the crow. 

“Thanks,” he said weakly. “Get you something to drink?” 

“Water would be great. I really shouldn’t have walked the whole way, it’s just such a nice day. Did you look at that email I sent you? It was so early this morning. But I was thinking about what you said about the blue in the last piece.” 

“The shading?” He asked and got down two glasses. “I still think it’s a little warm.” 

“Do you know Doug said the same thing? I think men see color differently than women, I swear. What smells so good? I know you said you might make lunch, but it’s like a restaurant in here.” 

“It’s just a chicken thing,” he shrugged. Like it hadn’t taken well over two hours to make. 

“I’m a terrible cook. When Stede and I were first married, I used to buy ready meals at the supermarket and tell him I made them,” she laughed.  “Doug does the heavy lifting there.” 

“Did he believe you?” Izzy asked incredulously. 

“If he didn’t, he was too terrified to say anything,” she said, not without a little satisfaction. “Never would touch the greens though.”

“I once tried to feed Eddy a vegetable and she just threw bits of bell pepper at me until I went back out and got fried chicken,” he admitted. 

“They’re probably going to die of malnutrition,” she predicted. “Fuck ‘em. Tell me about that picture with the fuzzy outline. How’d you get the camera to do that?” 

“Didn’t. Dropped it.” 

“You didn’t!” 

“I know, lucky catch.” 

The food was good, the company better. And later when Lucius texted, Did you have fun?  Izzy just called him. 

“Oooh, the voice of my lover,” Lucius cooed.

“I had fun,” he said as monotone as possible, mostly because he knew it would make Lucius laugh. 

“Hey, maybe you could get real crazy and go to visit her one of these days. Or ooooh, have us both over at the same time!  You could throw a party!” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Izzy laughed too, quiet and pleased. 

[fill-me-with-your-memes-daddy]

Watching the Rise of the Titans movie and I'll be documenting all of my thoughts/reactions here. [Spoiler Warning]

So instead of reblogging every new update, I'm just going to have this post up on my phone as I watch and type my reactions in a bullet list format.

Nari's human disguise is so cute. As someone who does have a cottagecore aesthetic, I want to cosplay her so bad

Are Skrael and/or Belroc non-binary coded? Regardless, I'm also obsessed and I want to fuck Skrael and be Belroc.

STEVE CARING ABOUT JIM BEING HURT YESSSS!!! My god his redemption has probably been one of the greatest there is because he doesn't just suddenly go from being a bully to a completely good person. You can see the gradual shift in learning better throughout the shows which is awesome.

IN NEW YOOOOOOORRRRRRRK!!!!!! CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!

The mugshot montage reminded me of season 1 of trollhunters when toby and Jim were arrested at the museum.

STRICKLER PUT A RING ON IT??? HE'S THE ONLY DILF IVE EVER ACTUALLY AGREED WAS HOT WYM I CAN'T HAVE HIM??? well I'm still really happy about his arc over the series probably one of my favorite character growths.

Eli my guy got his growth spurt!!! As an 18 year old who is still 5'0", I'm happy but envious for him

So I went into this movie without watching any trailers or promo, but I doubt anything could have prepared me for the existence of mpreg. In fact, I wasn't going to document my reactions until I saw that.

NAMURA!!!!!!!!! MY BELOVED!!!!!! I CAN STILL THIRST FOR YOU WITHOUT GUILT

The coach teacher just called the kids zoomers so I have to dock one point from my final rating just because of that. Unforgivable

Those husky animation models suck lmao

Oh fuck the titans got power ranger zords!!

God why did they include the mpreg??? This movie would have been perfect without it.... After that plot point being revisited only one time I'm already beyond done with it

Like it's bringing me back to the v*ltron days where they're was a suspiciously high amount of klance omegaverse and mpreg fics and art created and it physically hurts because Steve and Keith's voice actor is the same person meaning this is especially cursed to me since I was unfortunately in the v*ltron fandom and remember all of that

But like on another note, how old are these characters again??? I haven't checked any wikis because of spoilers but is Steve an adult??? I know aja might be technically a lot older than 18 because alien but is whatever age she is equivalent to an adult as far as emotionally and physically in Akaridion development??? IS THIS A TEEN (M)PREGNANCY IN A KIDS SHOW????

Like bruh I saw a singular post on here before going into the movie that was like "rott spoilers without context" and there was a pregnant belly but I was absolutely not expecting the actual context of it. I'll find the post after I finish and edit this post to tag the creator right here: @makoden

This entire post is just gonna be me ranting about mpreg huh

Anyway I love the whole roundtable allusion to the legends of king arthur (not the toa version but the one he's based off)

THERE'S 3 TO 5 BABIES????? I need to take a break bruh this is just too much

Alright I've taken a 30 minute break got some food and did some things i love (decompressed by tactile stimming with some owl plushies and watched some videos on my favorite owl, Garu. He lives in Japan with his owner and is a domesticated eagle owl who basically just acts like a sky cat. If anyone else needs some eye bleach, here is their YouTube channel)

Blinky and ARRRGHHH!!! saying their "if one of us doesn't make it" talk my god one of them is going to die I can see it and I will be utterly crushed. Jim can't lose another father figure and Toby can't lose his wingman again I will riot if this happens

On a similar but unrelated to the movie note, can we just talk about how toa started with Jim having 0 dads and (if strickler and blinky live to the end) will end with 2 dads? Like I just really feel happy for him that he has two dads who actually figured out how to put the past behind them to not have any infighting between them so that both of them are healthy father figures. Jim has already been through literal hell and back losing his actual humanity in the process so if he loses one of them, I'm going to be really pissed because at this point, this is just Jim torture porn. Y'all know how as SpongeBob SquarePants went on, the show just became Squidward torture porn? It's starting to feel that way for toa and I really hope they cut the shit by the ending

Jlaire is such a good ship but like I feel like it's too perfect they never disagree with each other

YESSSSSSS Someone finally doesn't treat toby like a fat waste of space who messes stuff up!!! I think out of all the characters that would have been most deserving of a rewrite, it's Toby. Sometimes I just feel he's only comic relief and any heartfelt moments he's had in the series was also born of stupidity (ie his flour baby project being unharmed was seen by him as divine intervention from his parents but was actually just Eli and Steve behind the scenes).

Ohhhhh yesssssss Archie's father!!! I was hoping I'd see him again because we got so little of him last

Ooooooooooh Asian trollmarket!!!!!

Oh never mind slavery trollmarket

Bruh titanic camelot

I feel like we're not seeing enough of the villains because I completely forgot about the power ranger zord things

NAMORA NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MY LAST CRUSHHHH

STRICKLER NO NOT YOU TOO PLEASE

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THE ONLY TWO CHARACTERS I SIMP FOR ON THIS SHOW DIED WITHIN FIVE MINUTES OF EACH OTHER

THAT WHOLE ASS RANT I WROTE IS COMING TRUE FUCK THIS MOVIE THIS SERIES IS JUST JIM TORTURE PORN

WAIT JIM'S SPERM DONOR INFO?

Oh thank God I don't want to know anything about that person

For the record, I call that man Jim's sperm donor because he has no business being called a father to him. All he did was donate some swimmers to the creation of him and give him abandonment issues

Oh another blind troll elder???? This fucker is just if vendel was a bad guy

Bruh I was grieving

PACIFIC RIM WITH GUN ROBOT VEX AND THE BELROCZORD? I've never seen that movie but I know the reference

Bruh Blinky doesn't read horoscopes? Does he realize conspiracy theories are just the manly version of horoscopes?

NO DON'T KILL VEX STOP KO-ING FOUND FAMILY MEMBERS

Oh thank God he's okay

NO NOT ARCHIE AND CHARLEMAGNE OH MY GOD

oh never mind they're just gonna coup de tat I believe in them :))

But I want to see him again

But I'm glad to see vex

Yay they're in arcadia!

But yeah I wondered why the trolls and Merlin didn't keep the whole "daylight doesn't hurt trolls" feature from the eternal night but now Guillermo del Toro I see you were playing the long con in that just to kill my girl Namora :(((

Oooooh I love the animation of the Narizord over Chihuahua!! It looks very good and realistic (if only they could have put some of that into those huskies from before smh)

Bruh the character designs of the arcane order are so good I want to be them

Nari making sure the Skraelzord doesn't crush the bus

DAMN DOUBLE HOMICIDE

Bruh I'm just glad we finally have an answer on why arcadia had everything going on as opposed to literally anywhere else!! I always found that as a weird coincidence for plot convince.

BRUH WERE BACK TO THE MPREG IM SO JEALOUS I FORGOT ABOUT THAT EVEN THOUGH IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS GRIEVING THE LOSS OF MY LOVELIES.

Oh that's real convenient that the ninth configuration meant all of them. Way to not decide which character gets more attention. Though it probably was a smart way to not have any infighting in the fandom between each character's stan group.

Bruh I just realized where is Barbera did they just ditch her on the Camelot ship???

And where are the other trolls that migrated at the end of trollhunters s3? They said something about new jersey but obviously Jim and the other main characters got on Camelot instead.... This feels like a plot hole

And we never learned the process of how changelings are made and bonded to humans and stuff. We just know it's super painful but I'm curious ffs!!!!

THE DONT THINK BECOME HERO SPEECH ALL SAID TOGETHER!!!

BRUH THEY REALLY HAD TO SHOW HIM GIVING BIRTH??????? WAS THAT AN ABSOLUTE MUST??????

Plus the main audience for this series is little children (the rating for the movie is literally TV-Y7) so even though my adult ass is not in the target audience, I STILL DONT UNDERSTAND WHY WOULD MPREG AND ANAL BIRTH WOULD BE AN IMPORTANT THING TO 7 YEAR OLDS???? THIS IS A LITERAL FETISH HIDDEN IN KIDS CONTENT ITS ELSAGATE ALL OVER AGAIN Y'ALL 😭😭😭😭😭

Though it's probably hypocritical of me to think fetishes don't belong in kids tv when I've openly admitted to thirsting for strickler and namora

HUZZAH

NEW AMULET WAZ GOOD????

STAB THAT BITCH JIM

WAIT NO I SAID STAB NOT GET STABBED

Alright good job just missed the directions at first but you fixed it

SEVEN KIDS?????????

T O B Y ????????????

W A I T NO

N O

IS HE ACTUALLY

OH MY GOD THERE'S HOPE

NO THERE ISN'T

F U C K THIS SHIT THEY REALLY JUST HAD HIM TO BE BULLIED THEN KILLED

Y'ALL IM ACTUALLY CRYING THIS NEVER HAPPENS

I NEVER ACTUALLY GET SO EMOTIONAL OVER MEDIA THAT I CRY IT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE AT THE END OF VOLTRON BUT AHHHHHHHH

W A I T

HE'S GONNA BE BROUGHT BACK?????

HOLD UP THEY'RE JUST GONNA BRING ALL THOSE DEAD PEOPLE BACK??????

WAIT IS HE

BLINKY CALLED HIM A SON

HOLD ON IS THIS GOING TO BE A CLIFFHANGER???????????

BRUH THEY REALLY JUST CAN'T END THE SERIES WITHOUT CLIFFHANGERS like there's always an open ending

TROLLHUNTER TOBY????? You know what forget the whole rants I had on how toby was written they just redeemed it all

And that's all! I'd rate it a 6.5/10 because it's definitely the weakest of all the sequels but still had amazing animation and some good plot points. It's just really hard to look over the bad stuff enough to rate it any higher.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ bed of spider webs﹫mark lee

this is part of “the spiderverse project” series !  friends - chase atlantic (nostalgia)

pairing: mark x reader (f) ft. johnny and jaehyun.

genre: angst, fluff, smut with too much plot, spiderman!mark, college!au, enemies to friends to lovers.

warnings: violence, mention of blood, language, stupid decisions, mention of drugs (johnny smokes weed in like one scene), spider bite, one short scene of attempted robbery, one short fight scene, trespassing, unprotected sex (be safe everyone), dirty talk, choking, fingering, oral, uses of spider webs during the sex scene, some praising and degradation, i think that’s it ? 

word count: 26k, this is the longest thing i’ve ever written. 

synopsis: where you hate Mark Lee because he’s everyone’s favourite, to both students and teachers. if there’s a number one, there’s a number two, and that’s you. however, after a strange event in a lab, his grades crush down, leaving the number one spot vacant for your very eyes, but as everyone’s favourite looks more and more miserable, you can’t help but worry about him, not knowing that he became the famous friendly neighbourhood superhero that saved you that one night.

a/n: this doesn’t take place in any particular city, don’t worry webs aren’t used for anything that kinky. also, this took so fucking long to write.

Miss Park likes to think that despite her age, she has a great memory. She finds pride in remembering most - if not all - of her student’s names, with a vague memory of their baby faces, if they were lucky enough. The now old lady also liked to think that she was a nice and soft kindergarten teacher, treating every student the same way, giving them the same amount of attention. 

After all, her class was the first of many other classes and grades, and she wanted it to be a great first experience for everyone. Retired, and only possessing pictures to refresh her memory from time to time, if there’s one student the wrinkly old lady was still fond of, no matter how many years after he had left her school, it was the only Mark Lee.

In her rocking chair, she didn’t even need a picture to remember dark locks, small bangs above his soft eyes, she didn’t need anyone to remember her first meeting with the now successful college student. The lady sometimes likes to tell stories from her working days and her favourite students always have an appearance in those stories. Those stories where her eyes become bright with what looks like small tears and adoration.

See, almost sixteen years ago, the teacher was doing her job pretty well. She had the experience, knew every solution to every problem, she was one of the oldest and most respected teachers of the area, really, she was at the pick of her career. She was working in a small and one of the only kindergartens of the city, a small, one floored building in a calm area, near a public parc.

After so many years giving her energy to prepare young kids to the world, she had seen a lot. From kids saying weird things they heard once, other kids drawing almost creepy imageries, to talented and well-behaved students, she saw it all. 

Most importantly, she saw a lot of what she calls “First Days”. First days of school where the mother leaves her child for the first time. She saw kids crying for their parents while they hesitated to walk back and leave, she saw kids waving to their parents with a smile while they were the one crying, she saw the loud and unstoppable crying of a child that doesn’t want to be here.

These days are all unforgettable and unique in their own way, but really, she would never forget Mark Lee’s first day. 

Winter had started pretty early, that September of two thousand and two, it was cold like it was the high of winter, just after all the new year celebrations. Every kid was more or less wrapped in a large coat, every time accessories with a matching beanie and scarf, even gloves sometimes. 

She remembers greeting every kid like always, offering her best smile for the best first impression, reassuring worried parents and comforting new kids. The teacher also remembers thinking that every kid had been a bit reluctant to leave their parent but none crying yet. And there he had arrived, three years old Mark Lee, looking like a miniature businessman.

To do such a job, you had to be fond of kids, but - oh, how Miss Park felt herself melt in front of the smiley, small boy. The long black coat he was wearing matched with his father’s who was readjusting his son’s backpack with an equally fond smile, giving him a few last bits of advice. The back pack was something colourful, she remembers, a blue off-brand backpack with cars on them, she could tell he was from a middle-class family, like almost every kid. She watched from afar as Mark Lee’s father went down, a knee on the floor, carefully taking a camera out of his pocket. Without complaining, small Mark Lee took place near the door, letting the teacher detail him a little bit more, giving his father his best smile as the flash went on.

That was her first memory of Mark Lee. This, alongside, his everlasting smile as he entered her class, dark, short locks bouncing at his every step he took with his brand-new white sneakers he promised his dad not to ruin, and the small wave he gave before the men left, giving both a smile to his son and his son’s new teacher, his footsteps echoing on the faux marble floor on the school.

One thing that Miss Park really liked about Mark Lee, was how helpful he was, and she saw it the first day.

Things are never calm and peaceful in a kindergarten class, especially when it’s the first day. So the lady wasn’t so shocked when she heard cries before she even saw the child making them. Echoing in the corridor, the teacher could distinguish a mother’s voice, trying to encourage her child, but never did the cries stopped. 

As they got closer to her class, Miss Park gave one last look to the room. Kids were already playing at different spots, most of them were curious about the big dollhouse and the car carpet, no one was biting anyone, she could give the last child her full attention.

A look out of the door, and she immediately saw the woman in distress trying to stop her child from making a scene, rubbing her back, bouncing her body lightly, up and down. But nothing made it better, if anything, as soon as the young girl saw the outline of the class and all those kids she didn’t know, her cries were even louder. Mother greeted the teacher like she could, with an apologetic smile, teacher’s bright and reassuring smile never faded. 

Miss Park doesn’t remember everything perfectly but soon enough, the crying child was in her arms as she gestured to the mother to go and leave quickly. She remembers the messy hair, she could see the attempt at a braid, the wrinkled shirt and most importantly, the big and sparkly, innocent eyes the girl had, alongside the crocodile tears rolling down her chubby cheeks.

Miss Park probably made an attempt to calm the child down, as she usually does, but what she remembers is the slight tug of her dress she felt. Delicate, a small head fisting the fabric of her flower dress as she looked down to a Mark Lee that had just finished taking off his coat and shoes. 

She remembers kneeling, the small girl’s face that was hiding in her neck looking at who was bothering her comfort session but never did Mark erase his small smile, his hand handing something to the teacher. Cooing, the lady took what he was giving her, a tissue he took from his backpack, sitting just below the coat. “See, Y/N. Mark is nice, he gave you a tissue.”

Perhaps. Perhaps Mark was, or is, nice. But that doesn’t change how much you hate him, since day one. Maybe you were one of Miss Park’s favourite student, but Mark was the favourite student. See, years pass, people change, life goes by, but never did Mark stopped being the number one, leaving you the bitter second place.

He had always been every student’s favourite, boys and girls. He was good at sports, but definitely the best at dancing. He was one of the first kids chosen to be part of any team for any sport ever, people would actually fight to get the two of you in their team and somehow, after years, they knew that putting you two against each other would make a great fight for the win. 

They said the dance club didn’t have a leader but he was the main men, you didn’t join the club but word has it that if you walked by the dance room when class ended, you would hear one pair of foot rhythmically tapping the floor, him and only him practised that hard. It was also said that everyone in the club would turn to him to seek advice and approval.

Imagine your shock when Mark Lee was seen on TV for some dancing competition, thankfully you don’t have a lot of memories of that time but one thing was sure. The next day, as the boy walked down the grey hallways, everyone had eyes for him and only him.

He was nice and helped everyone, he had good grades and still, somehow, was seen like a cool kid to hang out with, most people wanted to be his friend. Even though, with all the teenager movies you’ve seen, good grades and popularity aren’t compatible. You really didn’t know how he did it, but since junior high school, where the sense of competition started growing within you, you’ve had the theory that perhaps, he sold his soul to the devil for both good grades and popularity.

He even was every teacher’s favourite, always the one who could go out for the cool tasks, always the one in charge, always the one praised.

Alright, maybe you were exaggerating. You had a few great tasks too, but you still lived in Mark Lee’s shadow, or at least, you thought so. No matter what you did, he was still a bit better than you, and it was driving you insane. You could complain about him to your friends, to your family, even. Mark Lee was a name that left your mouth with venom and disgust. So obviously, when high school arrived, everyone knew you two were mortal nemesis.

Puberty took a bit of time to do its job on you, only hitting you towards the very end of high school, but it definitely didn’t forget about Mark. That’s another thing your then materialistic young mind hated about him, he had the grades, he even had the looks. Now that you think about it, it’s like he never even had an ugly period, and if somebody asked you, that was just unfair, the universe hated you.

When puberty was doing its job on Mark Lee, making him taller, his features sharp but somehow still holding pieces of his baby face, he was one of the most popular in high school, while you preferred staying out of drama and whatever popular kids do.

However, it was hard to stay completely out of drama when Mark Lee found extremely funny to remind you that he was better than you, sometimes turning around in the middle of class to show you his grade, other times going as far as waiting for you near your locker. His once innocent and kind smile had turned into an everlasting superior smirk, the one that said, I am better than you, we both know it, everyone knows it. Your competition was in the public eye.

God knows you tried to outrun him in at least one discipline. You tried dancing, even if you were good at it, he was still better, with a lot more practice. You tried getting popular, which was a lost cause before you ever tried, Mark practically ruled the school. You tried getting better grades than him, but he was always, always, one small point ahead of you.

Most of the time, unknowing teachers would be amazed by the two of you, at how you two always seemed to be the top two students, always one tiny step apart. Sometimes, they would even ask for the two of you to do a project together, to which you would always firmly and strongly disagree too, while Mark had the same smirk on his face.

However, one year, you found it. His weakness. And really, you should’ve thought about it way before. You’ve always been better than him at drawing, since kindergarten. He was so bad at art that he couldn’t colour inside the lines, he couldn’t draw one decent looking circle, he couldn’t understand the underlying meaning of a piece of art.

And finally, you found something you were better at, something he couldn’t do as perfectly as you did. Art classes quickly became your favourite classes and the original intent of outrunning him strangely faded to actual interest in every type of art.

You would never, ever admit it, but in a way, it’s because, and thanks to Mark Lee that you found your way. As he filled his inscriptions for universities specialized in the scientific field, you were filling yours with art schools, art universities. That’s why, at the end of high school, you really, really thought he was gone. Out of your sight, out of your life. No more competitions, no more Mark Lee.

But boy, you were wrong. 

You’ll always remember your first day at your new university. You’ve dreamed about it, you’ve dreamed about Mingtian. You may have asked for multiple universities, you prayed to get to Mingtian, one of the continent’s top university. Everything was in your favour. You had moved out of your parent’s home, finally getting the independence you so long craved for, you had your dorm. You would make new friends, finally study something you liked, really, what could go wrong?

At first, nothing did. The weather was nice, the sun was out as you took your first step on campus, you were amazed by how big the campus was. Your first class was as amazing, you never ever liked being in class so much. And you made new friends. Yes, they weren’t in your field, but still.

You met Johnny at your local café. You were exploring the area, trying to find a place to study where you found the small café at the corner of a street, brown brinks and beige furniture. It was welcoming, the scent of coffee and pastries taking over your nose as soon as you took a step in.

Johnny was too occupied to welcome you, another worker did. However, he messed your order up and insisted on letting you get a free croissant, and that’s how the two of you became friends.

He told you he was Korean, lived for over a decade in America. He told you about his city and about his studies. You weren’t surprised when he told you he was at Mingtian, in the dorm just in front of yours. He was new as well and was studying music. Two artists meet and conversation flows easily, quickly, you two become good friends despite the differences. Johnny is the type of guy that doesn’t study until the last minute and waste every free moment partying or working on his music, but one thing is sure, he’s a good friend.

So much so that a month into the school year, when he finds out that he’s you’re only friend you’ve made yet, he insists on introducing you to his new music major friend.

Jaehyun, the other music major, was probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. The first time you saw him at one of Johnny’s frat house party, he was screaming the lyrics of a song at the top of his lungs, the next day, he was making his mom’s secret recipe to cure any headache.

Quickly, the blond became one of your close friends, he would help you with some art project since he was extremely photogenic, and you would help him practice his vocals when Johnny was too busy working.

As said, Johnny’s frat hosted a lot of parties. If anyone heard some loud bass outside, there was a ninety-five per cent chance that it came from the infamous frat house. To be fair, when you first stepped into your new university, you didn’t think you would ever attend a frat party, but Johnny and Jaehyun both forced you to come, Johnny made it a point to introduce you to new friends every single time.

You can’t remember how many times you walked into the house, walking like a lost puppy, looking for one of your two friends submerged in a wave of college student’s body dancing to the new hit. Vision blocked by a mixture of blinding lights, artificial smoke and weed smoke before you finally found them, moulded into an old couch. You would slowly make your way to them, looking at the new friend they had that night, Johnny would finally, catch a glimpse of you and introduce you as “Y/N that doesn’t have a lot of friends.

Tonight is one of those nights.

When you walk out after waving goodbye to your dorm neighbour, you step a foot outside. It’s still the middle of winter, and you definitely feel it as a cold wind doesn’t need much force to pass through your white blouse. The sky is starting to get dark, the lights of the campus would light up at any moment, and you just figure you should walk to the frat house quickly. Closing your coat in front of your chest, you take quick steps around the campus. It’s surprisingly quiet outside, the heels of your boots hitting the ground at your every step. For once, you actually wanted to go to that party, which was a first. After a full week of finals, you needed to relax a bit, and what was better than a party with your friends.

The lights flicker a moment, before lightening the ground and the grass around the few frat houses. From afar, you can see a few college students having an anti-party in front of the doors, their silhouettes visible every time the colourful lights cast on them. You can’t really make up the song until you’re a few meters away from the house, where one of the members greet you. See, you may not have a lot of friends like Johnny says, but he doesn’t see that he actually made you a bit more popular, at least more popular than you were in high school.

The smell of alcohol and weed take over your senses as you enter the house, squinting your eyes, trying to distinguish a few faces. You know the house pretty well now, making your way towards the living room, you have to stand on your toes to find Johnny. You can’t see if Jaehyun’s here, but you don’t think too much anyways and make your way towards the back of the room.

Sweaty bodies still affect you as much as they did when you first entered a party, holding your hands up to create something that imitates your comfort zone as you navigate between drunk students. Dodging hands and unsteady red cups, once you get to the other side of the dancefloor, you pass by a few other students as Johnny finally notices you.

“Y/N !” You hear his voice before even reaching him, having to abruptly stop as two girls run up the stairs. “Everyone, this is Y/N, she doesn’t have a lot of friends here.”

At this, you were supposed to roll your eyes and deny, like you’ve been doing for the past five parties or so, but once the path clears in front of you and you finally take in exactly who’s sitting next to your friend, you freeze.

“Fancy seeing you here.”, is the first thing he says. There, sitting next to your friend, in your friend’s frat house, in your university, is none other than Mark Lee. God knows you didn’t miss that smirk, and it didn’t change at all. His pink lips match the rose hue that colour his cheeks, probably because of the alcohol or the heat. Tugging upwards to hide half of his eyes, his pupils stay locked on your figure, a few dark brown locks falling in front of his eyes. You notice that he changed his hairstyle, parted in the middle, showing his glowy skin. He’s wearing a loose shirt, collarbones showing as one of his arm’s behind the couch, the other stretched on his leg as he holds a cup as well.

Reacting quite slowly, Johnny’s eyes move between you, still standing there, and his new medicine student friend.

“Oh, you know her ?”, he finally asks, stretching his hand out so you can take it. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly you really, really don’t want to be here. Even, why is he here? You forgot about him, in a few months only, you thought he was gone for good, doing god knows what in another city.

Johnny gives you a questioning look, and for a good reason. You’re here, looking at Mark like he’s an apparition, an apparition of your past, and him, he’s looking at you with a smile, way too proud of himself. You can’t run away, Johnny would probably drag you back, so you have to act normal, you figure. You didn’t know your mouth was slightly open before you close it to swallow your saliva, and you grab Johnny’s hand before he tugs you towards him.

“I think I’ve seen her around my high school a few times, I’m not quite sure.”, Mark responds, a smile still clear only his lips only for you to see as you let Johnny guide your body, forcing you on his lap. The audacity, he really dared to act like he hasn’t known you for almost all his life, a few sits away at every class. 

If Mark could take a picture of this very moment, he definitely would. The way your eyes look round and big like the first time he ever saw you and for once, it’s like you’re missing some words to finally respond, really this party started out great for him, he really didn’t regret coming.

A small laugh moves his chest, taking a moment to take in your figure, curious eyes scanning over you both and Johnny, the same glint he has dancing in his eyes since he was a child. He stays silent for a moment, he wonders for a moment if you’re the girl Johnny had been talking about for the past week and unconsciously, you get a bit more comfortable on his lap.

That’s how you figured out Mark Lee was still somehow in your school. And you should’ve thought about it, really. Mingtian is a well-known university, it’s as big as a small city, the scientific course is one of the best in the whole country. You should’ve known that he had applied here as well, but you can’t really blame yourself, can you? Even if you knew he also got accepted here, the chances to bump into him reminded so, so slim. The scientific department was at one end of the university, the art side a completely other end. But he had to be there, he had to know two of your closest friends, and he had to befriend them.

Your theory’s that he befriended them just to annoy you, and it worked.

Mark started hanging out with Johnny and Jaehyun even more, and of course, the two wanted you to tag along. You didn’t want to risk losing them just because of him so after a bit of argumentation and a lot, a lot of talking to yourself, you agreed.

At first, it was just some Saturday nights spent in either Johnny’s or Jaehyun’s dorm room, a random movie playing in the background and mostly university gossip about people you barely know filling the room. You have to say that you prefer those nights in Jaehyun’s room, Johnny has the habit to smoke a lot during the weekends, you always end up leaving the dorms with your clothes smelling like weed and having to justify yourself to everyone you encounter.

You also like Jaehyun’s room better because he can open his bed and make more place and two more really comfortable big cushions. Most of the time, you’re on the bed with either Jaehyun or Johnny, Mark standing as far away as possible.

At first, you had to say that you really thought you’d end up jumping at Mark’s throat after the first few hours, but strangely enough, he was civilized. Never did he mention your weird phases during middle-high school, never did he throw any major shade, making those nights a lot more enjoyable than you thought.

However, the competition still remains, even though you two are in two different fields. You like to think that art isn’t about learning every by heart but rather feeling and understanding, voicing your opinion with argumentation and that medicine is more about pushing everything in your head, just learning again and again. Mark doesn’t understand that, or rather he understands when he wants. He understands that your work might be a bit hard when he gets a grade lower than yours, he doesn’t when he gets a grade higher than yours, but never will he admit that.

Remember about the coffee shop? It quickly became your spot to study. Small and quiet, your friend worked there, which meant a lighthearted pause every now and then, their pastries also rapidly became a guilty pleasure. They were pricy, sure, but oh how you loved spending a bit of your money in one of their black chocolate éclair, or one of their cups of vanilla coffee.

However, Mark quickly heard about the shop. After all, his friend worked there so wouldn’t he come by a few times, when his oh so busy schedule allowed it. Sometimes, he sat near the window, never too close from him since again, the shop was small, sometimes he came right during Johnny’s pause and had to tag along and ended up on your table. One thing was sure, he never ever missed a chance to shove his newest grade in your face.

Strangely, seeing him became less and less weird. On your part, you became less tense around him, actually making small talk here and there for Johnny and Jaehyun’s biggest joy, but never did it erase the everlasting competition and the underlying hatred you two had for each other, it was just, hidden.

Johnny and Jaehyun were easily fooled, thinking that the initial weird tension between the two of you had slowly fated, they started making plans for what the called “friend dates.” The first one was planned by Johnny who found a cheap but rather interesting and promising restaurant near the university, and that’s how you ended up in this Italian restaurant.

A yawn escaped your lips before you could even hide it behind your hand, both your arms stretched above your hands as you leaded back on your chair. A small smiled was offered by Johnny while Jaehyun was going back from his phone placed on the small iron table to his position, arm behind his chair as he looked behind his back, scanning the area. 

You don’t really know if it was a restaurant or more a place with a lot of small restaurants, either way, it was really pretty, you had to admit. Slow European songs were playing, lights hanging everywhere, carpets with different designs everywhere. It smelled like pasta and pizza, as cliché as it sounds and most importantly, it was crowded. So crowded.

It took around ten minutes to find a four places table, and now that you were sitting down, on this Friday night, it took everything in your system to not fall asleep right here and now. Jaehyun was, on the other hand, too hyper. Looking everywhere, checking his phone every two minutes, he didn’t hesitate to throw a few insults here and there as Mark was getting more and more late.

“Where is he ?“, asked Johnny again, yet never losing his patience.

“I don’t know, he isn’t answering his phone and this kid NEVER leaves it.”, for a moment you wonder if he’s actually upset or if he’s exercising his acting skills, the pout on his lower lip more and more prominent.

“Wait a few minutes, I’ll go to his dorm if he doesn’t show up.” You and Jaehyun nod at this, only to be cut by heavy footsteps of someone running. Even with all the people and all the general noise, your attention gets caught by the few people complaining about someone pushing them without even giving a single apology.

Jet black hair comes bouncing at his every step, a not so apologetic smile contorting his features whenever his shoulder bumps into someone by mistake. You’ve never seen him this happy, his lips stretching up soon as he finally sees the three of you, his eyes disappearing for a moment. Before he reaches your table, you notice the paper he’s carefully holding in his hands, sometimes holding it to his chest or up in the air whenever someone might damage it.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, notices the phone his holding in his other hand, the one he didn’t care to check for the past ten minutes.

No matter how questioning your looks are, never did his smile fade, both his hands slapping the iron table as soon as he reached it.

“Finally, we were about to call the police and report a missing child.”, was the first thing the blonde found appropriate to say, even though it was well obvious the brunette has something important to say. Nevertheless, his smile never faded as he took a few seconds to catch his breath, his head hanging low for a moment.

“Mark, take a seat.”, Johnny finally spoke, gesturing to the seat right between the second music major and you.

Flopping without any grace on the grey chair, Mark finally sat down, his respiration a bit steadier, he flipped the white paper over.

“Guess who just got a one-week internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory ?”

An internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory. Jaehyun’s pout somehow disappeared after a few seconds just to congratulate the lucky boy, Johnny stayed true to himself and got excited as if he was the one who got the internship. You had to congratulate him, it would look weird right, if you didn’t congratulate your so-called friend, plus you didn’t want to bring the mood down just because of a bit of bitterness. You found yourself congratulating him almost naturally, if it wasn’t for the tight smile you gave him and the full one he returned, you really didn’t get the chance to see him a lot like this back in the days.

After the initial mixture of shock, joy and excitement came down, you finally all got up to get something to eat in this big place, finally settling down as Johnny decided to bring a toast to Mark with his sunset cocktail. 

For once, you weren’t really jealous, after all, you were well placed to know that Mark worked hard to get that internship, you were just a foot away when Johnny made him act his interview out at least once a week to make sure it was perfect. Finally, the tense smile left for a sincere one, who were you to hold grudges from years ago and spit on your friend’s, or almost friend’s, success.

At some point in the night, way too many cocktails were drowned and tested, with alcohol or without, at the end of the night the three boys were at least a bit tipsy, you were at least buzzed by their loud discussion and laughs. You know your teenage self would be screaming at you, but here’s the thing, you aren’t a teenager anymore, you’re a young adult, as they like to call you, and you want to behave like so.

Your hand finds Mark’s arm, catching his attention as you lightly tap the fabric of his shirt. The white button-up he was wearing for the interview was starting to get wrinkled, but he certainly didn’t care, his sleeves pushed up, the way he didn’t even fold them were making you slightly anxious.  

You almost laughed at the puzzled look he gave you for a moment, a smile stretched your lips as you finally spoke. “Congrats on the internship, Mark.”

One thing was sure, Mark had a lot of hope for this internship. After all, the fact that he worked there for a week looked good on his student’s dossier, but if they also added that he worked hard and well, that could be an important point for a future employer. Maybe he dreamed a bit too much, after all, he was on his first year but, if they saw that he worked hard and most importantly, was serious and had potential, maybe they would keep him in mind after he graduated.

Needless to say, Mark was putting a lot of hope in this. On his first day, he wore some formal clothes, something similar to the button-up he wore for the interview and he swore he couldn’t stop smiling when they gave him the white blouse and a little tag with “Mark Lee” written on it.

The laboratory was huge, even after a month he was sure he could get lost in it but luckily for him, someone took him under their wing. Doyoung had been working there for almost two years now, he made sure to make Mark visit everything the first day, would sit with him during lunch and introduce him to his friends. Doyoung knew what he was doing, he knew he was giving the brunette a chance to make contacts and perhaps play with them after he graduated. The men quickly grew fond of Mark, actually seeing a younger him in the boy.

On the first day, he didn’t get to do a lot, but it was good enough. After all, they made important things there, like drugs, and if he messed up, a lot of people would suffer from it. He knew he wouldn’t get to play with some experiments but watching was already a great experience for him.

After three days, Mark didn’t miss the opportunity to loudly enter the coffee shop pretty late in the afternoon, the only day his internship allowed him to get out early, not that he actually wanted to leave as soon as possible. For a good hour or two, he explained everything about the building, what they did and what he saw, no need to say that when he started talking about some experience they were doing for some new drug and what chemicals they were using, your art student self, the two music student didn’t quite catch everything. But being the good friends you three were, you would nod and listen anyways.

You have to say your interest got poked when he mentioned the closed room he didn’t visit yet, apparently, they kept small animals there to test drugs on them.

“Animal testing.”, you simply said, the tone in your voice enough to project your opinion on the subject.

“They’re actually trying to reduce animal testing until at some point, they’ll just stop doing it.”, Mark said, taking a sip of his black tea, the same he drank every time he stayed a bit at the coffee shop, glancing over at Jaehyun. The boy was big on cruelty-free products and even had one of Lush’s bags to prove it, one of his eyebrows raising, telling him to continue.

“Basically they’re testing on spiders right now, but as time goes by they’ll start testing on cells and human tissue.”, he said, almost too casually. What he didn’t say though, was that he asked about animal testing to Doyoung just to inform you and Jaehyun. Yes, he also was against animal testing but he knew the two of you were a lot, lot more passionate by the subject.  

“Wait, spiders ?”, you asked, after you finished your cup of chocolate. You didn’t even know testing on spiders were a thing, you knew about rat, mouse, and rabbit. Maybe you didn’t really hold spiders close to your heart but it didn’t mean you couldn’t feel bad for them, not now that you knew some weird drug were being tested on them just for humans.

“Yeah, the room I was talking about earlier, that’s where they keep them. Doyoung said he would show me tomorrow and I don’t know if I’m more excited or completely terrified to be in a room with like, thousands of different spiders.”

“Can you imagine if someone like, leaves the door open and all the spiders escape.”, that’s the only thing Johnny found appropriate to say, a noise of disgust coming from both you and Jaehyun and you were sure he felt the same shiver run down his spine as you looked at Johnny in horror, who didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Everything’s pretty secured there, not a single chance that a spider could escape his box, even less the whole fucking troupe guys.”

And oh, if he knew.

Mark liked to think that he was a rather cautious young man, for a lack of better words. He always looked both ways before crossing, he was always cautious when driving, he never got in any sticky situations, but really, he couldn’t know what was coming.

As he was standing in front of the white door, he waited like the good student he was for Doyoung. Now that he took the time to think about it, he could really see himself working here, some people already knew him, greeting him as they walked by. Deep down he was anticipating the last day, but he would cherish this week and all the opportunities he had the chance to have.

“Good afternoon Mark.”, Doyoung’s voice could be heard from the other end of the corridor, lightly singing the college student’s name. His pitch-black hair were a bit messy, which was particularly strange for the men who was always clean on his image.  The sleeves of his white blouse had been crunched up to his elbows, and only then did Mark remember that Doyoung had a reunion for a new drug right before.

A polite smile stretched the boy’s lips as he turned to face the one he considered his mentor now, putting his hand forward so he could shake his.

“Alright, the reunion’s not over yet so, I’m going to unlock the door for you because I trust you. But Mark, make sure to push the door when you leave and it’ll lock itself.”

Only then did Mark notice the way his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, he didn’t dare ask him to stay or even talk about his reunion, not with how quickly he whipped his card out of his pocket, scanning the back. His thumb quickly tapped in the code he seemed to remember by heart, before pushing the door and taking a step back.

“Or you l-“, started Mark, never getting the chance to finish his sentence.

“I have to go kiddo, be careful and don’t let them run away.”, as the only thing he said before walking away, throwing finger guns at the youngest before quickly walking back to the reunion. Really out of his usual state.

Alright, maybe that’s not how Mark imagined his day, after all, he never entered any room without anyone’s supervision, he doubted that Doyoung wasn’t breaking some rule by letting him, a young college student, in a room full of spiders with God knows what in their system. The boy even took a few seconds to rip his eyes away from the figure of the brunette quickly walking away, not quite realizing until the corridor went silent as his footsteps faded away.

Mark didn’t really want to stay in that room alone, he wanted someone to tell him about the species and they were used for, but now he was sure he would just look at them for a few minutes before walking away. When finally, he dared looking at the unlocked door, he at least had to say that it was quite intriguing, from afar. The blue hue coming from the slightly opened door had the power to spike his curiosity, what sounded like a powerful AC helping the room to stay rather fresh.

After all, if it was opened, he could at least give it a look, right? Shrugging his shoulders to himself, his hand easily pushed the wooden door, revelling the squarish room to the college student. Surprisingly, the room wasn’t too blue, he could at least see in front of him, make out the numerous cages, vivarium for the spiders. At first, he didn’t see them. His head to the side, Mark took the first step in, being careful not to close the door behind him, afraid he would lock himself in. Against each wall, he could count three lines of four vivariums, all the same size. They all looked quite the same, some sand or some dirt, some plants and a branch.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

His attention first got caught by the way the light danced on his skin, how his rings would catch the blue neon. The room was fairly silent, aside from the vibrating sound of the AC, he took a few footsteps, getting in the middle of the room. At first, it looked like all the vivariums were empty, only when he walked a bit more did he notice some movement.

Keeping his hands behind his back, Mark got curious for a moment. Behind one large wooden branch, at first, he didn’t see anything before a black spider’s legs finally made its way on the piece of tree. The college student didn’t really flinch, he never had a fear for spiders so he didn’t even need to be afraid when they were safely locked in these boxes.

When finally, the spider showed itself, not paying any attention to the men in front of its house, Mark had to say that at least, he never saw any spider that looked like that. Pitch black, he was sure the spider wasn’t noticeable in the dark, making it even more dangerous. Long, skinny legs, a red dot was in the middle of its small body.

Looking for anything with a bit of information, Mark searched around the box, nothing really showed the name of the spider of its species, maybe they stored the documents on top of the boxes, he wondered for a moment. He was tall enough to reach the top of the vivariums, but he couldn’t quite see it. Getting a bit closer to the box, he made sure to not leave any fingerprints on the glass before getting on his toes, his hand flat on the top.

Mark could make the opening of the vivarium, making sure to avoid it, he searched for a few seconds more but never did his hand bump into any paper. His hand did bump into something, but he didn’t know what, not paying much attention before passing his hand one last time. He didn’t hide his deception when he couldn’t find anything, his eyes getting lost for a moment in the vivarium in front of him. On his toes, he could see almost everything in the box, but strangely, he didn’t see any spider.

Looking for a moment from side to side, he could see the other spiders, every one different from the other. One finally got his attention, yellowish body, but before he could even look at the insect a bit more, a small gasp escaped his lips. Immediately taking his hand away, Mark tumbled backwards, almost bumping into the stacks of vivarium behind him. Confused look contorted his features as he took a moment to realize. His hand probably touched a loose piece of metal, his skin probably getting hurt on the sharp object, right? Under the blue light, his blood looked almost black, the two dots so noticeable on the skin of his palm.

Two dots, two dots. The skin around the two holes seemed to burn, his hand growing numb. His eyes widen in realization, they didn’t miss the small black object moving on the floor, looking a bit lost. Mark almost lifted his feet to crush the animal, now that he was looking at it a bit more, it wasn’t black, but brown. He must’ve bitten him and was still on his hand when he backed away, the fall was probably really disorientating for the spider.

Mark couldn’t believe his eyes, one of the spiders had escaped. A curse escaped his lips, his hand flat on the wound, making sure to not leave any trace of blood on the floor. For a quick second, he didn’t really know what to do, his heart was still calming down from the pain of the bite, his mind not quite cooperating after realizing he had one of these spiders in front of him.

He had to think quickly, and leave as quickly. His valid hand took a tissue from his back pocket, one he always carried with him. Not thinking twice, he threw the fabric on the spider before it could run away again, and before it could escape the dark prison, Mark quickly picked it up, almost running to the vivarium.

The college student’s eyes couldn’t leave his dorm’s selling, the index of his left hand tracing the homemade bandage he had for his wound. After what happened, Mark quickly ran to the bathroom, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he risked, after all, he didn’t let the spider escape, it escaped on its own, but he didn’t want to put Doyoung in trouble for letting him, a young college student, all alone in such a place.

Maybe it was too late and maybe it was unnecessary but he bought his lips to his mound anyway, sucking to blood before spitting, he saw that in a documentary once. He wasn’t even sure if the spider was dangerous, sure he was a bit lightheaded from the chock but his body didn’t seem to react.

He didn’t want anyone to know what happened in that room, he didn’t want it to be heard, so he acted like nothing happened. He made sure to close the door behind him and even stayed a bit more before finally going back to his dorm.

Everything was normal, really, at least he tried to convince himself. He quickly walked back to his dorm, made some food, slipped into his more comfortable clothes. He had been eating pasta for the past week and decided to switch it up for some ramen that night, picking his grey sweatpants and a random hoodie before getting under his blanket, tomorrow was his day off and he could treat himself to some Netflix and fall asleep as late as he wanted as long as it wasn’t after the break of dawn.

Really, everything was normal, he almost forgot about the bite, if it wasn’t for exactly three episodes into Umbrella Academy, around one in the morning. Mark’s wound started itching, at first he didn’t pay much attention, he didn’t want to. But the more he ignored it, the more he felt like the wound was burning, more than it did when the spider bit him.

Lightly, his fingernails scratched the bandage, he didn’t want to hurt himself even more but the itching was so annoying and loud that he unconsciously clenched his jaw, the bone enlightens by his laptop screen. He had to say, he might have panicked a bit when his heart started beating loudly in his ribcage, his ears growing hot, he couldn’t even hear the soft dialogue of his episode.

The more time passed, the more his focus on his screen faded, he couldn’t even pay attention to what was happening as he tried to control his breathing. Under his sweatshirt, his chest was moving up and down irregularly, was he having a panic attack? It never happened to him, but somehow he knew it wasn’t that, it was something else. Cold sweat appeared on his hairline, and that’s when he really started panicking.

Moving his laptop to the side, the screen almost hit the wall of his dorm room, moving his blanket away to completely expose his body to the cold air of the night but it didn’t even change anything. His feet on the floor didn’t even help to regulate his body temperature, neither did the half bottle of water he drowned in seconds.          

Something was wrong, but never did Mark felt like giving in the panic. His hand quickly found his phone lost in his huge blanket, activating his flashlight, he was quick to raise on his feet, putting aside the way he felt lightheaded and almost dizzy at how quickly he got up.

He didn’t even know if he had the right to walk outside of his room at this hour, to be frank he didn’t really read the rules of his dorm but he needed to go to the bathroom anyway, he needed to splash some water on his face and stop this panic.

The whole process to go to the building’s bathroom was a blur, thankfully he didn’t come across anything and he quickly got a hold of the faucet, letting the water run for a moment. His eyes took a moment to get familiar to the white artificial light of the room, the white walls not making anything to help.

Strangely, he didn’t look weird, nothing was strange about his face, about his appearance. Yes, he looked a bit panicked, a bit sweaty but he didn’t get any allergic reaction so why did he feel so…weird, so bad? He starred at his figure for a moment. He had to stop giving in to the panic, he had to think rationally, maybe he ate something bad, maybe the ramens weren’t good anymore, maybe he needed sleep. After all, he had a few rough and full days, maybe staying up late wasn’t a good idea. Yes, it was probably something like that.

Bringing his hands under the water running down, he looked at it for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, before he brought his hands to his face. The cold water sure helped calming his features, his jaw relaxing, it helped cool his temperature.

A sigh left his lips, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his hands, he needed to calm down. His attention got caught once again by the white, homemade bandage, thinking for a few seconds. With the water, the sticky fabric started lifting up from his skin. He just wanted to check, see if it had gotten worse, so the sleepy college student quickly took the bandage off, he could make a new one if he needed to. For a second, he really thought he was sleepy, for a moment.

The wounds were gone.

[6:39 PM] Jaehyun: Hey dumbass, you’re almost 40 minutes late, where are you?

Mark doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know where his phone is. The vibrations make it sound like his phone’s everywhere at the same time, he almost feels them in his spine, both his hands closing around his ears.

[6:55 PM] Jaehyun: We’ll wait five minutes, not a minute more so you better get your ass here quickly.

The college student desperately tries to understand where he is for a moment, he just woke up in a cold sweat yet again, but he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. His mind is still fogged by sleep, or rather the lack of it. Strangely, the floor’s clean, weirdly clean.

[7:05 PM] Jaehyun: Hey, are you ok?

He doesn’t even know himself.

It’s been a few days since the bite, but he didn’t really keep track since his internship ended. Since he left the laboratory, he didn’t feel like himself anymore. Truth be told, when the wounds disappeared, he just brushed it off, maybe he bled a little and the wounds were too small for him to see and he didn’t want to become paranoid over such a small incident. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt, different. Waking up in a cold sweat became too familiar, he would run to the bathroom and had to change his clothes at least once every night. He quickly ran out of clothes to wear, forcing him to do his laundry multiple times a week.

He didn’t know if nightmares would wake him up, he didn’t remember his dreams, it felt like he didn’t dream at all and just woke up tangled in his sheets, in a pool of his sweat, completely disoriented every time. At first, he thought he was sick, but he didn’t have any fever despite the weird feeling of being slightly out of your body and seeing things your mind creates to trick you.

As the days went by, his muscles felt more and more sore. It started with his arms, at first he thought it was because he forgot to stretch after his sport session, but arms day was last week. It spread to his shoulders, tense and back arched, he only felt at ease when he was resting, laying. Quickly, his legs didn’t resist, and yesterday he couldn’t even study for more than an hour before he felt like all his resources left his body.

He fell asleep on his desk so quickly, all the will in his body couldn’t even keep him awake for more than a few minutes. Once again, dreamless night, he woke up in the dead of the night, cold sweat collecting on his forehead. Really, these past days only left the shadow of who Mark once was. He barely ate, slept a lot, didn’t get any work done. Even when he slept, he barely got any peace or any energy, he barely felt less sleepy.

All of this, all of this was strange and unusual for him. Mark Lee has always been an energic kid, an energetic men. Never did he ever felt so tired, so out of everything. Mark rather was the type to work even more after school, he had a lot of energy and everyone knew about it, from his parents to his teachers. At first, he tried to stay calm and find some rational reason. After all, he just started college and it was pretty stressed, he had to admit even if he didn’t like to give in to stress, he just finished a week-long internship where he had a few missions, so really, it must be that. It could be it but this, this right now, was not normal at all.

When finally, the sleep started fading away, small eyes taking the fading sunlight in, only then did Mark found that he was a bit more alive. For once in a few days, his body didn’t feel sore, he could stretch a bit and his muscles wouldn’t scream at him. He could fully breathe in, take a deep breath in and look out the window. It was still pretty early but the sun was weirdly down… His eyes narrowed for a moment as a yawn escaped his lips, one of his hands rubbing his eyes. His head tilted to the side, was the building in front of him…upside down?

He almost laughed, before looking up. That’s when a scream escaped his lips, completely uncontrolled, panicked wide eyes took in his room, just like he left it but upside down. He almost pinched himself, what type of dream was that, he looked again at his room before his eyes focused on his feet.

He was on his ceiling.

And as soon as he realized, taking in his ceiling and the way the sunshine filtered through his blinds from way too close, he fell down. The loud sound echoed in his room, alongside his whine as he rolled on his side, the college student didn’t know but his carpet and thick blanket he left on the floor managed to absorb a bit of the pain. Whines escaped his lips for a few more seconds as his hands pressed on his arms, he was sure to have bruises there and on his sides, staying there for a few moments.

“What the fuck.”, what the fuck just happened, what the fuck was that? He was on his ceiling, just moments before, he was up there. He didn’t imagine it, it wasn’t a dream, he saw the way the building in front of him was upside down, he saw his bedroom from up there. He couldn’t explain it but he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, he had bruises to prove it, the way he fell in the middle of his room and how bad his arm ached told him he didn’t simply fell from his bed.

“Hey, Mark. Are you ok ?”, a voice came from the door, he couldn’t mistake the voice of Johnny. He certainly wanted to check up on him, heard his body falling from a few meters, or his whines, and wanted to check. The room fell silent for a minute, Mark needing time to register the situation and find how he would respond. He knocked a few times on the thin wooden door, as thin as the walls clearly, and the young men called for his friend again.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, don’t worry !”, he, himself, wasn’t convinced at all. His voice was somehow still sleepy, shaking slightly. He managed to get up on his elbows, having trouble to even flip on his stomach to face the door.

“Do you need help ?”, asked Johnny, sounding worried. Clearly, he didn’t believe what Mark said in the slightest. The thing is, after months of friendship, Mark had a key to Johnny’s room and Jaehyun’s room, which ultimately meant that Johnny probably had a key to Mark’s room as they were speaking. Whatever was happening right now, whatever was going on with him, his body or his mind, Mark didn’t want anyone to see it. Both ashamed and scared, him, the well put together from the group, didn’t even want his close friends to see his bruised and tired, sleepy body down on the floor for some reason, he didn’t want anyone to see the bags under his eyes and the way they were big with a mixture of both fear and shock. He was scared, scared of what was going on, he didn’t want to talk about it to anyone before he, himself, figured it out.

“No, no don’t worry. I’m just tired and…I need sleep.”, was the only thing he managed to get out, his legs kicking his blanket away without any successful result. At his voice, he was sure his friend could tell something was going on inside that room.

“Mark, don’t lie to me.”, the music major said, sounding a bit disappointed. After all, he was his friend and he couldn’t bear having him lying so blatantly and skipping a friend date without a reason. Before he could even respond, Mark heard the distinct noise of a key sliding in his bedroom’s door, understanding quickly that he wasn’t planning on letting him get away so easily.

Without even understanding, his right hand lifted up. It was just a reflex, he didn’t think it would stop his friend from entering his room, it was just a vain attempt but as soon as his hand lifted, guided towards the door, a white string shot out quicker than he could understand. If his eyes weren’t already wide, they were probably about to pop out. Right in front of his eyes, a white, thick spider web-linked the door to the wall, keeping it from opening. Mouth agape, Mark watched almost horrified as his friend tried to open the door but kept struggling to push it, not knowing what was the problem.

“What the fuck.”

See, Mark Lee is a smart boy. From day one, he used to get those star stickers in kindergarten, he would get high grades in junior high school, always staying at the top of his class and unlike his classmates, his grades didn’t crash once in high school. Somehow, he managed to keep his grades impressively high while keeping a social life. Maybe he had to work a bit more at the start of college but after all, it was superior studies, he had to work. He was also a smart boy outside of studies, so really, when he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, he couldn’t help but feel extremely frustrated.

For a good hour after Johnny left, slightly hurt and even more worried, the college student spent a good part of the beginning of the night trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with him. He pinched himself a few times, he tried to wake up but deep down he knew he was already awake, from the moment he saw the sun upside down. He knew he was awake, yet he couldn’t believe his eyes.

When his body finally allowed it, he raised to his feet, checking his body. Nothing. Not a bruise, not even a red-ish area, it was like nothing happened yet again. Maybe then, he would’ve given in to the idea that he was hallucinating, if only he didn’t have the huge spider web in front of his eyes to prove that something was going on.   Hesitant fingers traced the spider web. It came from his hand, or his fingers, he didn’t know, but he put two and two together.

Believe himself or believe science and all he learned so far. If he believed what his teachers, what everyone told him for those past twenty years, he feared he might go crazy. Nothing, no book, no specialist, nothing and no one could explain what was going on with his body. If he believed himself, he took the risk to be seen as a crazy person, a freak, a delusional. But after all, he saw what he could do with his body now, great things, but scary things. If he believed himself, he had to understand by himself, and that’s what he chose.

When finally, after a long night of sleep which was surprisingly helpful, he finally texted you, Johnny and Jaehyun to reassure the three of you, he finally decided to understand things by himself, he almost lost all reason. See, Mark never really skipped class without a good reason. He was the type to skip maybe once or twice a year, only when he was really sick or had some family emergency, that week, he skipped all his classes. Of course, he made sure to tell his teachers, talking about some cold he got after the internship that ultimately resulted in him being stuck to his bed, he managed to someone build a good enough relationship between most his teachers that they all excused him for the week.

Mark wasn’t really happy about it, he didn’t like skipping class, he knew that at the end of it all he would’ve had stacks of documents and papers and classes to learn, but if what he saw was real, if what he did wasn’t the result of sleepless nights, paranoia and stress, then he couldn’t go out before he understood everything.

Feeding himself with junk food and leftovers, his workout routine was thrown out the window. He didn’t know how, he just knew it had to do with the spider bite, obviously. But he googled, and even read articles about that specific spider that bite him and it was essentially harmless. Yes, maybe it was a bit itchy and would hurt for the first few minutes but after reading all the articles about it from the first three pages of google, Mark could confidently say that a bite from this spider wouldn’t result in hallucinations, fever, cold sweat, anything he experienced. One box was checked.

He thought about going back to the laboratory, but without the pass they took from him on the last day, it was impossible, he just had to deal with that alone for the moment. He then, after hours of researches on spiders, remembered the bite and bruises. His body and skin were undamaged. He knew, it was just logical for him to have at least a bruise on the arm and side he fell, yet nothing was there. He could touch, press, pinch, he felt nothing, ending up with him crossing another box. Maybe it was the hours of researches, the hours of torturing his mind and turning his brain just to understand what was wrong with him, but somewhere in the night between the first and second day, he decided he would check one of his theories.

His scientific mind told him it was impossible, he would probably end up in the hospital or seriously injured, but after all, his scientific mind wasn’t much help these past few days so he decided to push the thought to the side. Just a knife would be enough, a small cut on his finger he could pass as a simple domestic incident if someone asked about it. Somewhere in the night, in the middle of the campus, Mark sat exactly where he fell. Everything was silent, everyone was pretty much about to fall asleep or studying as he could see all the lights slowly going off one by one room, in the building in front of him. The cold breeze coming from his window faded the sweat collecting on his skin away as he stared a moment at the knife. He was probably going crazy, but he needed to do it, these thoughts kept coming and coming as he took a look around him, papers around his body where he noted all his experiences.

He didn’t think twice, he had to look up as he quickly brushed the cutting knife on the skin of his finger. At least, it wasn’t as bad as a paper cut, the pain wasn’t so bad, perhaps a little hiss escaped his lips as he added a band-aid, but he could deal with it. Quickly, the blood could be seen through the cotton, at least he knows he was really hurt, had a real wound. With his second hand, he grabbed his phone, almost dying, with one swift motion he opened the camera, not paying attention to the message he got. Yes, it was weird, but Mark was ultimately just working on an experiment, and he needed proof and documents to work on. If tomorrow morning, his wound was still there, he would probably put himself in a hospital.

The sigh that left his lips was loud and clear, letting his back hit his bed, only then did he look a bit more at his phone. He had a few messages from the group chat both the one with a few of his classmates and the other with you, Jaehyun and Johnny. But he also had a private one from none other than you.

[10:23 PM] Y/N: Hey, how are you feeling?

Mark started at the screen for a moment. The men was slightly delusional, Mark was the type of person who thought no one really cared about him, or just because of manners. Sure, you, Jaehyun and Johnny expressed some concerns in the group chat which he quickly brushed off but he didn’t know you cared enough to text him privately. Weirdly, it kind of makes him feel good, like he wasn’t really alone. Only when the blue bubbles appeared on the screen, disappeared again, before popping up again did he understand that you were typing and erasing, just like he was doing.

[10:25 PM] Mark: Hey, I’m feeling the same to be honest.

And just as he sent the text, you sent one too, a small smile stretching his lips at the message.

[10:25 PM] Y/N: I made some soup today, want some ?

The thing is, you two never saw each other one on one, at least not in the past ten years. Yes, you two got a bit closer, and a lot more civilized since high school but so much more is happening right now, as Mark started yet again at the screen, not knowing what to answer.

You, on the other side, the building just in front of Mark’s dorm, stare at your screen just like he is doing at that exact moment. You can’t really believe yourself but, you do worry about him. You’re kind of obligated to, too, especially when both Jaehyun and Johnny seem pretty worried about the young college student.

See, you’ve also known the men all your life, so when you heard he would be missing for one of your friend dates and that Johnny heard something, someone falling down in his dorm room, you were sure it was the satanic ritual to keep both popularity and good grades. You weren’t too worried at first, since you had to skip a friend date but when you heard the was skipping a whole, and an entire week of school, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

You remember back in high school when he skipped two days in a row and how happy you felt to finally have a few days to breathe, but now, now that you two are somehow between friends and ex-enemies, you really can’t help but wonder. To add to everything, you didn’t tell Johnny or Jaehyun, but from your room, you had a small view on Mark’s window. Sure, you didn’t see anything, but you saw how his light was always on, it seemed like he wasn’t sleeping, you remember seeing his lights on when you were about to go to sleep and at four in the morning when you needed to go to the bathroom. Even at six in the morning, when you just woke up, his lights were still on.

Perhaps you and Mark didn’t get that along for most of your lives, but you knew he was the type to keep to himself, to not tell anyone what he going through, and again, the fact that he skipped an entire week, refused to see Johnny and seemed to not sleep at all only added to your sense of worry.

That day, you decided to make some soup, both for you who got a cold after your friend date, but also for Mark. Usually, you made food for you only, you rarely had leftovers, but even if your teenager self was screaming at you for the gesture, you had to get used to the idea that you and Mark were friends, and friends look out for each other. It was both an attempt to clarify that you didn’t really hold any grudges against him after all, but also in hopes of making him feel better that you added the Thai soup to a bowl, wrapping it in some transparent paper, you had left.

Isn’t it funny how things change quickly? A few months ago, you thought Mark was long gone from your life, and now you’re almost worried and bringing him soup to his dorm. It’s weird how you also feel anxious, years of hating Mark Lee’s guts would’ve suppressed any feeling for him and yet, here you are frantically tapping your fingers on the hot bowl. Is it too much, too soon? He could’ve denied though, are is it too polite to do so?

Can a few months really change your relationship? Won’t it be weird? You don’t even have the time to think much about all these questions before he opens the door, or at least tries to. You don’t know it but, on the other side, the young men is struggling to rip the thick spider web off, letting a breathy “W-wait, just give me a second” escape from his dry lips.

The young men knew your dorm was ridiculously close, actually he could see your window from his, not that he checked it to make sure you got home or anything, but he didn’t think you’d come so quickly.

The weird and new feeling of goosebumps rising on the back of his neck somehow told him you were close, he had to quickly kick his blanket on his bed, find a way to hide the too many boxes of noodles he had laying around and at least, at the very least, make it look like he was working. Only then did he have the time to give his attention to the web, going back and forth in his bedroom before he found a pair of scissors, hiding both the white thing and tool in a drawer.

Mark hoped he at least looked presentable.

“Mark Lee? Lee Mark ? Mark and you ?”, Yerim asks over the phone, making you roll over on your stomach. You suddenly regret even telling your old high school about last night, the way she pronounces Mark’s name and yours in the same sentence telling enough about how she’s feeling. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”, you whine on your end of the phone, hiding your face in your soft pillow. Really, you needed to tell someone about the night before and both Johnny and Jaehyun were crossed from your list. They didn’t even know that Mark actually knew you quite well back in the days, let alone that the two of you despited each other.

Yerim was the third-best option, she knew the history between you and Mark, was free and wasn’t sick of hearing you complain like many of your friends. 

“It is a big deal ?”, she started, her tone almost questioning your point of view. “You’ve been hating his guts for years, Y/N. And you’ve been telling me all about it for years too.” 

A deep sigh left your lips, really you didn’t know how to respond. The blonde was right, though. It kind of was a big deal, but you didn’t want to blow such a thing out of proportion. Your fingers ticked at a loose thread coming out of your blanket, a pout forming on your lips. “I knooow.” 

Ah, what was Mark Lee doing to you? The night before, when he opened the door and looked like he had run the marathon to clean his bedroom, you couldn’t help but laugh at him, his tense shoulders dropping down as soon as he heard the sound. 

You had spent the extremely short walk to his dorm wondering if being alone with him wouldn’t be weird and thankfully, it hadn’t been, at any point of the night. You wonder if him being sick and probably a bit feverish by the look on his face didn’t make the whole thing easier, after all, who wants to act though and actively keep grudges when sick? 

Your initial plan was to drop the soup, ask how he was doing and bolt out, make the experience short to avoid any chances of it getting ugly, but Mark had insisted for you to at the very least take a seat and tell him about the friend date he missed. The way he asked wasn’t forced, it wasn’t just something to be polite, and after all, Mark hadn’t seen anyone in quite a while now. The young man was the extrovert, he fed off social interactions, maybe that’s why he felt a bit happy to see you. Being sleep deprived does things to you, he figured. 

The five minutes trip you had planned turned into two hours, Mark was eating his soup on his bed, not wanting you to sit on it because it was “A bed of batteries”, while you sat on his desk chair, making it turn around occasionally as you told him about Johnny’s scream when he thought he lost his camera, Jaehyun’s failed attempt at dinner the other day. 

“And then ?”, asked Yerim, her mouth full of the cupcake she was chewing on. 

“Then? I got back to my dorm.”, you said like it was obvious and didn’t know why she was asking. On the other end, you could clearly hear her disappointment, yet another sigh leaving her lips. 

“Boring.”, she sang, your eyes rolled yet another time before she brushed her words off as a joke. “So, after all these years, are y’all friends ?”, she asked. 

Your head tilted to the side, from your spot, you could see his bedroom window, the light suddenly turning on in the small square as the night started settling in. 

“I guess we are friends now.” 

“Spring is here, read all about your campus’ events to celebrate !”, the headline reads as Mark scrolls down Mingtian’s website, remembering him how weeks had passed since the incident in the lab.

Crazy how your life can change so quickly, so drastically. Mark didn’t really have the time to look back, or maybe he feared doing it. Either way, his life wasn’t the same. A few days after you brought him some soup was all he needed to get back on his feet and get his thoughts together. Long gone was the shadow of himself he’d seen in the black screen of his laptop when another episode loaded on Netflix. 

Firstly, it didn’t take long for him to figure out that this never happened to anyone, anything like this, for the matter. Mark had dreams, a lot, and one of them was for him to discover something that would break science, find something no one ever laid eyes on before him, and he had it, it was him.  Sure, he didn’t expect such a thing to actually happen, nor happen so early on, but he could work with it, as terrifying as it was. 

Second, he figured that thing wasn’t doing anything too harmful to his body. A battery of tests and his doctor told him he was completely healthy without a doubt. So, he was here, actually healing faster when he got hurt, bruises and cuts disappearing in a day or two, hours if it was small. He could apparently walk on walls, but he didn’t really try again after that night he was stuck on his celling, and had something with spider webs that he would keep and test whenever he had the time. 

And that’s how, on third, he started thinking about helping people with his powers. (Mark actually didn’t want to use this word before a few days ago, but he had to face it, it was the definition of superpowers.) See, the thing is, superheroes weren’t unknown, they just didn’t happen in his city, did Mark Lee really have the pretention to be the first one here? 

After years of reading comics, going wide-eyed in front of the news channels, he knew that he’d have a lot on his shoulders. 

A lot of back and forth, could he rely on his powers? What was he really capable of? He didn’t know. For weeks, he locked himself in, he feared testing everything on the outside world until one night, he did it. 

Winter was still present in the air, but the early spring prevented the wind from biting the young man’s skin. The hoodie he was wearing close to his body, he kept his head low as he walked on campus, hands in his pocket. 

In the dead of the night, the streets were empty, only a few people had given up on classes at the time, making them the only people out at this hour, mostly drunk. As lights were going out one by one behind every window, Mark made his way further into the campus, until he reached a place far from only anyone at that time, the vacant stadium. 

“The campus’ superhero! All we know for now.”

Mark almost missed it, if the word “superhero wasn’t in bold, red letters. 

Without missing a beat, the student’s finger tapped on his screen, turning his brightness to the lowest setting. In the background, your conversation with Jaehyun only became a blur as Mark’s ears seemed to ring, his skin burning a bright red as he found hard to focus on such simple words.

The article was short, blurry and dark pictures didn’t even come close to being dangerous for his privacy, and clearly, they didn’t have a lot of information on him. The article clearly was written in the heat of the moment, little proof meaning little people would believe it right away, nothing was clear and set. Speculations on his age, his major. 

Apparently, someone had seen him on his last night out, the anonymous witness talked about seeing him shot something he couldn’t identify, seeing him climbing a wall before he lost him. 

Many comments weren’t taking the whole thing seriously, yet. It made Mark feel a lot, lot better to know that maybe, just maybe, he had a bit more time left to get ready himself before getting forced to show himself to the world. Vine references about how he was on “XGames mode”, and other memes managed to relax him a bit, before he tumbled upon other comments. 

Some didn’t believe yet, some made assumptions already, those got to Mark Lee. If it was real, he needed to be tested, some said, they needed to find him. The city’s own hero, what a task, he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay hidden too long. They went on, and on, never getting tired of their theories. 

“Oh my god.”, Mark whispers, his finger stuck on the screen, refusing to exit the app. 

“What did you say ?”, Jaehyun asked, chewing on his gum, his attention switching from you to Mark. Only Johnny was missing, his pause starting soon, you three were seated at your usual table in the café. The sun would set a bit later than usual, the golden light filtering through the large windows, the café emptying as it usually was busy early in the day. 

Mark looked up, eyebrows shot up to hide under his dark locks, his eyes moving back and forth from yours to Jaehyun’s, amusement from his sudden reaction clear on the other men’s eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I- eh…I just blacked out for a moment.”, Mark finally managed to let out, locking his phone before leaving it on the table, people started talking about the new phenomena way too soon, he didn’t expect this big of exposure without even having everything figured out himself. 

Oh, the superhero life didn’t suit him that well. 

“You’ve been doing it pretty often these days, did you get some rest ?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side. Bringing your cup of tea to your tinted lips, you took a sip, almost chuckling against it as he got lost in his thoughts again, but this time, you were in the centre. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep due to coming finals, mixed with the slight shock he still had lingering around and the colour of lipstick you chose to wear today, but he took a bit too long to detach his eyes from the nude stain of the white object. Maybe it was the guilt from not telling any of his closest friends, the guilt he had because as time when by, he felt himself drifting away. 

“Yah, this kid is always dreaming”, Johnny’s loud voice and his hand ruffling his dark lock finished to bring him back to reality, a smile softening his features. The tallest took a seat next to him, making the new superhero look small in comparison. He couldn’t help but notice as he thanked Johnny for the cup of coffee, did he have the shoulders to do it? He wasn’t buff, he wasn’t extremely tall, he wasn’t the one to actively go to the gym, he had a few muscles from dancing and sports but so many guys religiously went to the gym for more, and more. 

“What are you dreaming about ?”, teasingly asked Jaehyun, to wish Mark decided to ignore at first. His cup of coffee was brought to his lips, his eyes stuck on the beige table, he vaguely listened to the conversation, trying to keep himself in, the conversation going back and forth until you giggled at something Johnny said. 

“I’m sure he is, I’m sure he’s daydreaming about this superboy.” 

Mark shocked on his coffee. 

Mark smirks, maybe he does, maybe he does have the shoulders to be the superhero they want him to be. 

But if he doesn’t ? He doesn’t care. 

That’s what he needed to figure out, that’s what has been blocking him for days after the article. Expectations from people he didn’t know, people that didn’t know him. He didn’t have anything to prove, and if he had something, it was something he had to prove to himself. 

His head tilts to the side, the skin-tight black hood only showing his eyes keeping his earbuds from falling. In his ears, the music at a low level only accompanies the street’s noise. Cars drive by, never noticing the shadow lurking at the top of a building, their wheels crush the small bits of wet pavement, a few passerby walk with their heads low towards their phone.  

Everyone looks small underneath him, he blended with the buildings, invisible but all-seeing. After rain’s fragrance tickle his senses despite the thick fabric covering his face, his upper body hangs off the wall, even like this, he’s so high no one see him.

He doesn’t fear falling, he’s confident in himself. After weeks of practice, he knows what he’s capable of. 

After a moment of observing the street’s movement, Mark decides to turn around. His back on the end of the wall, his shoulders, arms and head hanging off. He takes a breath, arms spread, eyes on the sky. It’s getting darker, he notices, the dark blue turning black as minutes go by, stars flickering in and out of his view. 

He’s excited more than afraid, the night sky going black his signal to get up and finally give it a try. His shoes kick a few rocks as he gets up, not even taking a second to brush the dust out of his hoodie. 

He’s on one of the tallest buildings, people are working underneath him, the lights never going off. Another tall building in front of him, the bank. It doesn’t have as many windows as the one he’s towering on, the pale granite looking almost grey under the artificial lights.

That’s the one he had his eyes on, taller from a few meters, he couldn’t make out the roof of the building, but that’s what he wanted. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the end of the wall of the building, slowly taking steps further and further away. He needed to gain momentum, the steps at a rhythm, forcing his breathing at the same tempo. When the young man’s back finally touched the wall, he knew he had to do it quickly.

Quickly before he lost all confidence.

And so, he did.

Workers underneath him probably wondered what or who was walking, or rather, running on their rooftop. Running as fast, as hard as possible, he didn’t let his mind register what was happening as his right foot landed on the wall he was resting minutes before, one leg pushed his body off the building, and before his mind could understand that he was in the air without protection, he shots.

In milliseconds, the white string easily attaches itself to the wall of the bank, almost invisible yet so strong. Quickly, both his hands gripped the spider web, if he had enough force, he could do it. His arms pulled, as hard as he could, and for a split second, he swore he touched the sky.

He touched the sky, and before he could realise it, he was on the second building’s rooftop.

His back is the first one to hit the rooftop, hard and small rocks digging into his skin. It might hurt now, but everything will go fairly quickly. Furthermore, that’s not what Mark is focused on.  His body rolls for a few meters before he manages to stop himself with his hand and foot, thinking that he should probably wear gloves next time. 

Heart beating against his ribcage, he stays like this for a moment, face inches from the floor, hand firmly on the surface like he fears falling. He did it, he was on the other building. Slowly, the college student gets up, he feels even taller now, the rooftop he was standing on seconds before under him, he really did it. 

He could do anything. 

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he looked down at the string he shot waving in the air, deciding he’s let it like this, a trace of where his night started. 

After this, Mark was unstoppable, long gone were his fears, the city was his. 

Restaurants, cafes, streets he only knew during the day looked so much more interesting from his point of view, high and proud. When his attention isn’t on the streets, mindlessly trying to find something interesting, his attention was on the skyline, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he was getting comfortable. 

The young student stopped fearing the jump, he didn’t hesitate anymore, his reception getting cleaner, his footsteps soundless.  He could do this all Friday night, he felt a new type of freedom, something he couldn’t quite describe as he shot yet another string, the night wind puffing his sweatshirt, licking away the sweat forming on his stomach.

He could’ve stayed there all night long, if he hadn’t been stopped dead in his tracks between two smaller buildings as he was risking his way back to the campus. 

The loud sound of a door metal door stopped him at first, his shoes landed on the convenience store’s rooftop.  Although it was indeed Friday night, and most parties were still going on at this hour, he hadn’t come across any fights, at least nothing this loud. 

Before he could get a good view on the scene, he had to crouch down, on hand on the triangle-shaped roof as he tried his best to stay invisible despite the large neon sign a few meters behind him.

And that’s when he almost fell down. 

In the dark, small street was you. Clearly angry and possibly confused, Mark could see a man that definitely was not Johnny or Jaehyun standing a few meters away from you, keeping you from walking away.    Mark understood right away, but he didn’t expect any action so soon, nonetheless with someone he knew involved. 

Slightly frozen at the top, he decided he’d listen to the conversation a bit more. As selfish and pathetic as it may sound, he was scared. He didn’t see himself as a hero, at least, not yet. 

“Your phone, your wallet. Quick.”, the men said, Mark couldn’t see his face, he was more focused on you anyways. 

“I’m not giving you anything.”, you snapped back, Mark was worried you’d get yourself in trouble even more, his guts screaming at him to jump in and take the man down. 

“It wasn’t a question.”, clearly, the tallest wasn’t finding any of this funny, he probably also wasn’t planning on you not giving in so easily.  Menacing, he took a few steps closer, enough that your body automatically took a step back, the back door of the club and the end of the street growing further away. 

“Listen up, slut.”, he started, and as soon as you saw his hand raising, you reacted out of impulse. You were scared, yes, but as a broke student, you couldn’t just give him your phone and your wallet, just most of your life in them. The bottle you didn’t even sip on in your hand found the wall, the glass breaking easily. 

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, being almost full, the liquid in the bottle splashed all over the wall, wetting the side of your top and your shoes. Probably in survival mode, you didn’t care much, you just knew that the now broken bottle would be as sharp as a knife, enough to threaten and defend yourself if needed. 

That’s when Mark almost fell backwards, his back falling straight on the green neon light of the store. If the obvious shadow wasn’t enough, the loud noise that came with the impact finished to give away his hiding spot. 

The robber turned around, surprised as he didn’t find anyone standing behind him. You, on the other hand, wished you’ve had the reflex to hit the men as he was distracted, but how could you when a shadowy figure that somewhat looked familiar jumped from god knows where. 

You swore you didn’t drink, no one slipped anything in your drink, yet you couldn’t quite believe your eyes when this person, who looked like he materialized in front of you gave a straight punch in the other men’s face, knocking him out for a few seconds. 

A gasp left your lips as you backed away completely against the wall, the broken bottle glass falling from your grip and you swear, you swear you almost lost your mind.  The men quickly got up, the difference in sizes was obvious, he towered over your new saver, but the masked one’s next move had the power to freeze you completely. 

His hand lifted, with nothing in it, and in a second, something shot from his silhouette. You couldn’t really see it, but a moment, the tall one was ready to knock the both of you out, the moment after, the was firmly held by something on the wall. 

The large, white substance was covering his body, he could struggle and move, he was stuck. A groan escaped his lips, kicking his shoes on the floor. 

“Who are you, what the fuck is that ?”, anger was clear in his voice, but apparently your new hero didn’t want to deal with this. His hand lifted a second time, the same stringy thing, this time aimed towards the men’s face.  Touching his forehead at full impact, his head harshly crashed against the wall, surely knocking him out for a few hours. 

The questions he asked kept running in your head, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking straight, but one thing was sure, he was the one articles were talking about.  The realisation finally hit your brain, your mouth agape as he turned around. You weren’t surprised when you saw he was wearing a black and thick fabric over his face, his face contoured under the material like he was about to say something before he stopped himself. 

 You couldn’t move, too scared, too shocked, his thumb and index formed an o, silently asking you if you were ok. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”, you finally breathed, “Thank you.”

He stared at you for a second, your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but wonder where you saw those eyes. His dark brown eyes were a window to his emotions, you didn’t need to see his face to understand that he was strangely really concerned, almost scared.  Maybe he understood that he was staring, he slowly nodded, apparently, he didn’t want to talk and didn’t know how to communicate with his hands. Shooting you a thumbs up, he ended up holding his hand a bit up, palms towards you, like he was asking you to slow down, probably telling you to be careful. 

You nodded again, every one of your braincells had left your brain at this very moment, you couldn’t believe what you just saw, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. “Who are you ?”, you finally asked, like he was going to give you his name just like that.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t have the time before your phone started ringing. Both you and Mark recognised the special ringtone for Johnny. Without thinking, you picked up with a trembling hand, you almost forgot where you were but seeing your friend’s name on you phone only made you want to get back to security as soon as possible. 

“Yeah Johnny, I’m outside, please com-”, you started, before the masked men retreated. “No ! Wait !”, you screamed out, but he was too quick, climbing the wall of the club like it was some simple stairs he was going up. And just like that, he disappeared. 

“Look! Look, look, look, look !”, you jumped on your seat, leaving your phone screen up on the table. Jaehyun quickly looked at it, before resting his back on his chair, torn between getting annoyed and laughing at your attitude. On your phone, was an article about the night you almost got robbed and got saved by “Spiderman”, the name you and a few other people gave him, slowly starting to take off.

You were lightly featured in the article, this wasn’t what you cared about, you cared more about the encounter, you never thought you’d see someone with powers with your own two eyes, you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that they existed. For days now, you were almost obsessed, you needed to thank him, weirdly, you didn’t remember doing it. 

Sadly for your friends, there was hardly a day without you talking about him, hardly a day where you didn’t try to understand who he was, how he became like this.

Sadly for your friends, especially for Mark. 

Oh, how he didn’t know where to put himself. He knew you’d talk about it, a little bit, but not that much. 

“Do you think he’s a student here ?”, you asked, you eyes going scanning your three friends’ faces. Mark dodged the question, shrugging his shoulders before going back to his book. 

“Most likely, yes.”, Johnny though, answered. If Jaehyun was slightly annoyed by the new obsession, Johnny, on the other hand, was getting into the entire conspiracy mood. After all, the mysterious man was the one who saved his friend when he wasn’t around, he almost felt like he owed him something.

“That’s such a weird power, though.”, Jaehyun said, stretching his legs until they were resting on your lap. Dropping you flashcards on him, you continued as he only added oil to the fire. 

“Right? I don’t think he chose this power. No one would pick this out of everything, right ?” 

“Do you think it was like, an accident ?”, Johnny asked, Mark sunk down on the sofa, bringing his book higher to hide his face. He had been reading the same phrase for the past hour, he couldn’t concentrate with his three closest friends unknowingly speculating about him. He couldn’t either deal with the fact that he didn’t tell you, he couldn’t now. He felt like it was too late.

“What do you think, Mark ?”, you asked. No matters how much you hated admitting it months ago, you knew Mark, and seeing him so out and distant was out of the ordinary. The young men usually was one of the mood makers, his loud laughs never failed to grab attention and make you follow his attitude, it didn’t take you long to understand that something was off. 

When Jaehyun was on your left, Mark was on your right, easy to reach, your fingers snapped in front of his eyes. 

“What ?”, he finally asked, making it feel like you didn’t hear his voice for hours. Both Johnny and Jaehyun had caught his odd behaviour and reaction, “His powers, what do you think he can do ?”, you asked a second time. 

“I, ugh-…I don’t know.”, he mumbled, avoiding any eye contact, his attention focusing on a random heart drawing he couldn’t memorize. Even in a bad mood, and you never really saw Mark in a bad mood, not this bad, he’d never avoid such a topic.  Mark Lee had always been kind of a nerd, he would bring comics to class, he’d get pretty excited when a new hero would break out. 

“Are you ok ?”, you finally asked, the question sounding more like a threat than anything else to the young leo. Silence was forced in the room, three pair of eyes waiting for an answer that should normally be obvious and given without a second thought. Was he ok? He didn’t really himself, to be honest. A few days prior, he was confident in himself and almost flying between buildings, now guilt and stress were the only things clouding his mind.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just stressed.”, he shrugged, thinking he’d be able to go back to trying to work with such an answer. What he wasn’t ready for, though, was your hand on his shoulder. In a millisecond, electricity ran down his spine as he finally looked over his book. The small smile and sweet look in your eyes was one you’d usually give to your two other friends, but he definitely wasn’t used to this. 

“Don’t stress, you’ll do just fine, I promise.”, you finally tell, to which the two other agree, a series of nods and, “You will, don’t worry.”, follow your sentence. 

For the first time in a while, Mark feels small, tiny butterflies in his stomach, a pink hue creeping on his high cheeks.  See, the young men felt accepted in the friend group, something he hadn’t felt since junior high, most likely. None of you knew, but Mark needed the encouragements, more than ever. A small smile crept on his lips as he thanked you, any memories of your old bickerings long gone. Finally, the mood settled down, as everyone seemed to go back to their studies, the leo’s mind somewhat calmer. 

“Anyways, I need to find a way to thank Spiderman.” 

Great.

"How stubborn are you ?”, your classmate Renjun asks, pushing the cubes of ice in his cup with his bright green staw. The sound gets drowned by the hubbub on the park you two are studying in. Or at least you are, eyes trying to adjust to the bright sun as you read your art book under a tree, few students passing by. 

“Very.”, you answer, tapping your pencil on your book, not taking a break from the small annotations you’ve been making. Yes, you were very stubborn, and you’ve been since your childhood. Weeks after the accident outside the club, the “encounter”, as you call it, you’re still determined to see him again, the hooded and mysterious young men almost everyone call spiderman. 

“It’s been weeks. You don’t even know who he is, where he is.”, pointed Renjun, like you’ve never heard it before, you’ve heard it from Jaehyun, Johnny, Yerim, everyone.  Sipping on his too cold iced tea, he coughed a moment as you roll your eyes, frowning at your book. 

“And ? He’s still on the campus, people saw him yesterday.”, you tell him, pouting. Putting emphasis on the last word, you almost sounded like a really dedicated fan of a still sketchy and unknown hero. But you weren’t lying, he did appear last night, Friday again. Almost flying between buildings in the chilling night, shooting spiderwebs after spiderwebs. 

 Actually, he appeared multiple times during the last weeks. Pictures clearer and clearer, it seemed like people were going out, hoping to get a glimpse of him, get the best picture yet. He always seemed to appear at night, during the weekends, but some people still managed to get some good, though grainy shots.  Average height and skinny was what you could see from the series of pictures. “That means I still have a chance to bump into him.” 

More and more, people stopped being septics, theories flying left and right on social medias, but no one really knew who was the masked student. 

“Just to thank him ?”, your friend asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows. Giving up on your book, you looked up as he spoke. 

“Yes, just to thank him.”

Saying it out loud almost made you sound ridiculous…Were you ridiculous? You just really wanted to thank him, in person and without the adrenaline that probably made you lose all of your words last time. Plus, the way he seemed so surprised as well, and how familiar his aura was only pulled you even more in.

“You’re unbelievable.” Renjun sighed, sipping on the last drops of his overpriced tea, making your crunch your nose at the noise. “So, what’s your plan ?” 

You chuckled. You don’t have one. 

“At least try and have some fun.”, Renjun visibly pouts, at least you think he is. The dim, red light of the club isn’t helping your vision at all, eyes tired from hours upon hours on the computer. Turning your attention to your friend, you sigh against your glass, the taste of the non-alcoholised drink you ordered still lingering on your lips, the loud music isn’t helping either when you try to respond. “I’m not here to have fun!”, you’re growing more and more annoyed by the minute, you’ve been here for an hour or so but it feels like you’ve been sitting here for far more, shoe unconsciously tapping on the club’s floor as all your friends dance to the beat of the song. Needless to say, your sentence didn’t make much sense in such a setting.  This seems to be the last straw for your friend, who, you have to say, you’ve been putting through a lot, frustration clear on his face as he sits down in the booth, just a table filled with bottles and glasses between the two of you. “You’re way too focused and obsessed with this thing.” He’s right, you know he is, but it doesn’t stop you from looking down at your half-full drink, swirling the liquid around with a finger, one side of your brain refusing to understand his very rational point of view.  “Come on, let’s dance a bit ? Even if you don’t see him tonight, it’s not a big deal.”

Once again, he’s right. Even if you don’t see him tonight, it shouldn’t be a big deal, it shouldn’t affect your mood nor your night, it really shouldn’t. But see, aside from thanking him, there’s something else that really is bugging you, the more you think about it, the more it’s suspicious, but the more it feels like you’re being paranoid, delusional.  How familiar he was, you didn’t mention it, it was just a feeling and didn’t think much about it, but now that his identity was a big, red question on everyone’s lips, you truly couldn’t push the thought aside.  Maybe it was someone from your class, someone you came across while going to one of your classes, you didn’t know and Renjun didn’t let you think more about it, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist to force you on the dancefloor. 

You can’t spot Johnny, probably dancing somewhere else and out of your vision or, knowing him, taking shots at the crowded bar. Jaehyun wasn’t there, nor was Mark, the first needed to get back home, while the second needed to study for upcoming tests. 

Not having half of your group did feel weird, especially on Friday nights and weekends. But, you understood that Jaehyun was pretty homesick and needed to recharge with his family, while Mark seemed to get back to his old self and tried as best as he could to regain his first place, nothing exceptional. 

“I need some fresh air, I’ll be back soon, alright ?”, you finally tell Renjun. Fuck it, you needed to get over it, eventually, all of this would get unhealthy way too quickly.  Pushing through bodies, you quickly walked along the painted walls of the club, lights flashing and dancing on the dark colour, easily finding the door to the exit. 

One push of the door and the chilly air of this Friday night rushed on your body, licking away the thin layer of sweat that had gathered near your hairline. Outside, the campus’ streets are animated despite the cold weather, groups of friends meeting before a week of midterms. 

It’s crazy how a bit of fresh air managed to clear your mind, filling your chest before you let the fog form in front of your tinted lips. You have to correct your own posture, back straight, head high, rolling your shoulders, bones screaming from your bad postures.  Walking away from the building, you take a few steps on the main street, wandering aimlessly until you’d cleared your mind, gradually managing to think about something else that isn’t him.  But it seemed your mind wouldn’t be left peaceful for long, the world wasn’t so good on you. 

It takes a few seconds for your ears to peak up the loud screaming from afar. At first, your ears peak up, only registering how loud they’re being before understanding that a fight is taking place some meters away from you. Screams and words you can barely make out, it’s clear both parties are already pretty intoxicated, both it seems nothing physical started, yet.  Humans are curious by nature, and it shows when a few people gathered around the two drunk students, you included, walking a bit closer. Only, when you see exactly who’s arguing do you drop your curiousness to worry and fear, you didn’t recognise Johnny right away, thinking he was still in the club. But without a doubt, there he is, his leather jacket gone as his tall and impressive figure towers and walks towards the unknown second party. 

“Come on, touch me!”, the stranger taunted your close friend. If there’s one thing you rapidly figured out about Johnny, it’s that, when he was sober, the brunette wasn’t quite aware of his strength. A lot like a puppy who grew up too fast and wasn’t accommodated to his grown body. Drunk Johnny, on the other side, wasn’t afraid of acting recklessly, and it made you fear for the unknowing partygoer. 

A small crowd had formed around them, mostly cheering on, blindly pushing the fight to go on. You couldn’t let it take place, you couldn’t let it happen.  In his drunken state, Johnny gave in, fist clenched in a way you knew he’d throw it at any second, your heartbeat picked up and before you knew it, your body threw itself between the two men, not thinking twice. In seconds, you couldn’t really process the multiple shouts of your friend’s name tumbling from your lips as you desperately tried to push his body away. Somehow, you find yourself behind him, tugging at the plain white shirt he chose to wear, hands gripping the fabric. 

Most likely because of the alcohol and adrenaline running through his veins, Johnny didn’t pay any attention to you, trying to reach the stranger again and again. 

“Hit me, hit me!”, obnoxious and way too cocky for his own good, the second party you quickly learned was named “Jinyeon”, was free of his movements and quickly getting railed up.  You couldn’t hold onto Johnny for so long, it seemed no one was really trying to actively break the fight, leaving you alone. Your grip on his shirt was quickly slipping away, your desperate voice calling for your friend again and again, but it seemed you couldn’t get past his drunken mind.  And, just as your fingertips were letting go of your friend, a promise of a fight you couldn’t stop after it’d start, Jiyeon’s screams stopped. 

For a few seconds only, before his drunken swears were directed towards someone else, someone you knew too well.  Red hood mask, a collective gasp and whispers followed the appearance of the one and only campus superhero. Visibly, he liked popping out of nowhere, you didn’t even fully register his presence before he was standing between the two dunk fighters.  Despite his smaller figure, he didn’t need to use any strength to stop the fight at once, both with the surprise he caused and by the string of spider web that stuck Jiyeon’s hands together. 

“What the fuck is that ?”, he screamed, desperately trying to get the unknown substance away from him, his watered-down senses causing him to tumble backwards. Only then, did his friends walked out of the crowd, finally deciding to put an end to everything as they helped him regain his balance and walk a bit away.  You, on the other hand, was stunned, to say the least. Your hands had flopped down to your side, it seemed the mere apparition of Spiderman had managed to sobber Johnny down enough that he didn’t try to throw a fit and mimicked your moves, arms falling at his sides with an open mouth. 

“You need to calm down.”, second, or maybe the third shock of the day, you didn’t really count. The hooded hero spoke, but his voice was audibly altered, making him sound almost like a robot, a layer of autotune on his original voice.  Lips parted, you watched as he hesitantly walked towards Johnny, a clear opposite to how confident he was when he restrained Jiyeon’s hands. 

“Are you okay ?”, he spoke again, body language visibly thorn between two extremes, only when Johnny nodded did his shoulders flop down, nodding to himself. 

“Are you ?”, you asked yourself, finally processing the entire situation. It felt surreal, you never thought you’d have to stop a fight, nor a fight with one of your closest friend. 

“Yeah. I need to walk a bit.”, was the only thing he said, taking a few steps away from you as his heart-beat slowed down. 

“And…And you ?”, it almost made you jump back when your attention turned from Johnny to the campus’ hero, he had walked a bit closer, fingers tugging at his gloves.  Finally, you took a long look at his appearance, he was just like in the pictures, still wearing the same hoodie and mask over his face. Only then, did it hit you.  There was your chance to thank him ! 

You probably had a weird expression on your face, his face lolled to the side, a small gasp left your lips. You almost touched his arm, but had to restrain yourself from getting too much into his private bubble. “Y-Yeah! Do you remember me ?” You couldn’t believe your own voice, almost shy and quivering, pearly teeth biting down on your lower lip. 

He took a few seconds to respond, for you, it seemed like he was searching back in his memories. After all, he saw you once in a dark street, a weeks ago. 

What you don’t know, is that Mark, under his thick mask, debates fainting amnesia, he really does. He recalls starting a phrase two times, before vomiting out a string of words like an awkward teenage boy on a first date. “I-Uh, yeah. I remember you.”

Oh, how Mark doesn’t know why his palms get sweaty even when they’re covered with gloves, nor why his heartbeat picks up now, when it didn’t while breaking the fight up, fight that included one of his close friends. Mark doesn’t know why his words get mushed in his brain, or why his mouth goes dry.  He’s too focused on trying to understand why to comprehend what you’re saying, he sees your lips moving, he hears, but his brain doesn’t process. 

“What ?”, he asks, almost feeling guilty for not listening to you, but he sees you giggling for a second, maybe because the whole conversation seems funny with his autotuned voice. 

“I wanted to thank you for the last time.”, you say again, a giddy smile taking over your features, one Mark decides he likes why more than the worried and scared look you had on your face moments before he arrived. Did he have the power to give you that smile, he only wondered for a quarter second. 

“Oh, no worries. You don’t have to thank me twice.”, Mark smiles under his mask, of course, your stubborn mind wouldn’t let go.  “No real-. Twice ?”, the way your face grows red in embarrassment makes him giggle, in autotune again, causing you to laugh at both him and yourself. “I was sure I didn’t the first time.”

“No worries ! Just, keep the gossiping down from now on.”, Mark wanted his phrase lighthearted and was ready to fly away with that, not giving you time to register what he said before he turned his back to you and, within a second or so, managed to shoot a string of web to a building and swing away as quickly as he came.  Leaving you alone, the weird feeling bubbling in your stomach left as rapidly when your mind connected two dots. Gossip ? How did he know about your gossiping about him…? He couldn’t have ears everywhere, of…did he ?  And that’s how, in the middle of a cold street, surrounded by tipsy friday night partygoers, your eyes grew twice their size. That’s how, with one sentence he probably didn’t think through, you unmasked Spiderman, you unmasked Mark Lee. 

You don’t know what entity took over you, but it craves closure, and a good shot to drown everything. 

When these two dots connected, you never felt so dumb in your entire life. Everything made sense, in a way, yet you needed a clear proof, or else you were going crazy.  The voice, the body language, the corpulence, the unending awkwardness every time the subject was brought up. That’s why he seemed so familiar, because it was Mark, someone you’ve know your entire life. How dumb you must’ve looked when he was hiding under his mask.  Even, why has he hiding this from you, from Johnny and Jaehyun of all people ? Or did they know ? And you were the only one in pure secret and ignorance ? You thought you two made up, but if he told your two friends and not you, it was clear the friendship you felt between the two of you was one sided.  And somehow, this hurts a bit too much. You blamed it on the trust you had finally given him, the multiple efforts you’ve made to go along, and nothing else. Yet, the confusion was a bit too intense, and it drove you to his dorm door. 

Lucky for Mark, he didn’t forget to lock his door. Lucky for you, dealing with three chaotic and forgetful guys means you can pick a lock. After all, it’s a simple dorm, your old credit card is enough to dislodge the small piece of metal and let you enter.  It’s dark inside, curtains pulled to the side, streets lights helping you adapt to the lack of light. For some reason, your eyes linger on his bed, it’s neatly made and you don’t have to fear that he’s sleeping under the covers.  Faint smell of his earthy cologne floats in the air as you fully enter the room and close the door behind you, locking itself in a second.  Now what ? Adrenaline brought you there and now what ? Feet dragging on the floor, you didn’t dare turn the light on. One hand softly brushing his blanket, your first thought goes to his desk. Surely, if there’s something to find, it must be here. Mark’s laptop lays there, closed but from the faint light, still on.  What are you doing ? You ask yourself a few times, you’re either crazy for thinking that your friend’s the neighbourhood superhero, or you’re crazy for snooping in your friend’s room.  Fuck it, now that you’re here, might as well clench your curiosity before Mark comes back from where ever he is.  One finger is enough to lift the screen, light pouring in the room, almost blinding you at how bright it is.  Your eyes take a few moments to adapt to the digital screen, your university’s page on the screen. The headline’s about Spiderman, you bite your lip before leaving your fingers on the touch pad.  It’s not a clear proof, maybe he’s just searching or reading about him. Mark has always been a huge superhero fan anyways.  Exiting the page doesn’t unleash more information either, the laptop’s clean, nothing special. His biology paper is here, multiple pages into it, notes here and there. After closing every page, guilt washes over you. His laptop wallpaper faces you, forces you into rethinking your actions, a selfie Johnny took a few weeks ago with your whole group in it. You smile brightly between him and Mark, both of them throwing peace signs as they usually do.  Who would’ve thought you’d end up as Mark Lee’s wallpaper, definitely not junior high school you.  You take a few seconds to regain yourself, guilt builds up alongside the stress you didn’t know you had, grabbing at your throat. Only now do you feel like running away, red alarms going off in your head as your head screams that Mark could enter at any moment.  Another side of your brain tells you to search a bit more, your hand goes down his open drawer and you feel around, not thinking that you might come across something weird, being in a boy’s room.  “What are you looking for ?”

The voice seems to come out of nowhere, you jump on your spot, the back of your hand hitting the wood of his desk. Turning back around, your mind goes blank, empty, no thought’s you’d even say. But you can clearly feel your ears getting red as you face none other than Mark Lee.  The young adult’s standing in the middle of his room, the cold breeze of the night coming in by the open window. Fuck, you didn’t even here it opening, how did he get it so quietly ? The light’s still off, but you can clearly see his mask in his fist, gloved fingers clenching it. Spiderman’s mask.  Yet again, your mind has two reactions.  “Mark…”, voice small, you just got caught red headed. He’s probably going to kick you out and tell Johnny and Jaehyun you’re crazy. Your throat goes dry as he doesn’t say anything, lips a straight line, eyebrows slightly furrowed.  He’s speechless, something you never thought he could be. The brunette shakes his head lightly, looking down and preventing you from seeing his face anymore, and there you decide you hate not being able to look into his eyes. As he moves his head from left to right, like he’s trying to shake himself awake, you notice his brown locks, sticking in different directions.  Mark disregards his mask on his bed, like a rag doll, lifeless on the white covers. 

“Mark ?!”, you voice calls him again, you dare address him again after being caught in such a sticky situation. He hisses, maybe sighs, you don’t really know. It’s the confirmation you needed, you were right. Your voice’s high pitched, shock clear in your voice. You know he knows, he knows you know. Thoughts, chaotic in both heads, yet no words are spoken. 

“Don’t tell anyone.”, is what he says first, voice soft and almost weak, you understand he’s exhausted and almost feel bad for making him deal with you, this, after a night of -what you think is- fighting small crimes and keeping peace on the campus.  You take a step back, you don’t know why. Maybe because realisation just hits you a second time without giving you a proper time out. He didn’t tell anyone, and you foolishly assumed he told Johnny and Jaehyun, you knowingly questioned your friendship with him. 

Maybe you stayed silent for a bit too long, the student finally dares looking at you like he’s the one trespassing, calling your name. 

“They don’t know ?”, you finally articulate, mouth putty, like you desperately need water. “They” doesn’t need to be defined, both you and Mark know who you’re talking about. All he does is shake his head no again, before letting his body fall on his bed.  Your mouth hangs open for seconds, like a fish. You feel like you just forcefully robbed someone from a huge secret, which, you’ve done. When you thought weight would’ve been lifted up from your shoulders, it just adds on. 

“Oh.”, is all your mind can find. It’s all you can say. What do you even do ? Tell him you had suspicions and decided to break into his bedroom ? 

“Yeah.”, silence feels the room. Awkward, tense, you’d be able to cut it with a knife, pierce through it with a needle. Strings in your heart pull and inevitably break when you remember last time such a silence took place with Mark was before you two met Johnny and Jaehyun and silently decided to get along. 

“I-.”, you try, but before a mix of different phrases and words can escape your mouth like a river, Mark stops you. 

“When did you find out ?”, he asks. He’s visibly stressed, fingers playing together before he eventually throws his gloves next to his mask, right leg moving up and down. You hate being the cause of this. 

“When we were outside.”, you finally find your words, pearly teeth repeatedly biting down on your -probably- red bottom lip. You had to lean against his desk, knees weak. “When you said to stop with the gossiping.” 

In another situation, it would be comical, how his pretty brown eyes widen in realisation, just like yours did. His palms rub his face and he audibly groans, a small “fuck”, tumbling from his lips. 

“I don’t even remember saying it.”, he confessed with a speechless laugh. Hearing it helps you relax the slightest bit, he doesn’t sound bitter, just dumbfounded. He says silent after that, though his eyes never leave your figure and you understand he wants to know more. 

“Then-…Then it just clicked, you know. The voice, the body language.”, -You’ve known each other for years- you wanted to add, but decided against it for the moment. The young superhero only nods, looking to the side for a moment. 

“So you decided to break in.”

It clearly wasn’t a question, more like another dumbfounded, almost hurt observation. You shift on your feet, balancing your weight from one side to the other, really, you look like a child who just got caught stealing candy before dinner. 

“I’m sorry, I just-…I thought-…I thought you told them and not me…”, your voice gets quieter as you speak, if you could, you’d disappear in thin air alongside your embarrassment. Eyes on the floor, you miss how his eyes get bigger, before shifting under his frowning eyebrows.  You’re ready for another row of uncomfortable silence, but Mark has too much to say to let it go so easily. 

A gasp leaves his lips when he registers what you just told him, his bed shifting as he stands up. The young men’s sudden move catches you off guard, your eyes taking in his figure as he smoothly lifts his left hand towards the wall on your right.  There, you clearly witness his powers for the first time. From what you assume is his wrist, the brunette shoots a sting of spider web. It’s so fast you almost miss it, but the substance lands on the light switch, turning the light bud on immediately. 

You’re almost blinded by the light, taking seconds to adjust to the sudden change. You understand that he’s mad, maybe even disappointed. You, yourself, are disappointed with yourself. you could’ve taken the issue in such a different way, but now was too late.  

“You really thought I wouldn’t tell you ?”, the disappointment, clear in his voice, has the power to pull at your heart for some reason.  You don’t even know how to answer. Yes ? You thought he didn’t. 

“N-No…It’s just that-”, your throat tightens, oh how you hate this feeling, your heart starts pumping faster, lips going dry.

“Don’t lie to me, you thought I told them and not you. Who do you think I am ?”, 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”, that’s when you finally dare to look up at him, cutting your sentence halfway. With the lack of light, you didn’t notice the cuts on your friend. Blood on the corner of his lips, a small cut on his cheek, it’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows. Your eyes travel down, so does Mark’s. His knuckles are bruised, a deep shade of purple on his milky skin. 

You feel gutted, it hits you. He is Spiderman, he puts himself in danger, he could get severely hurt everytime he flies out his window. 

“What happened ?”, you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, bottom lip trembling as Mark looks up at the ceiling, a deep sigh expanding his chest.

“Had to break another fight.”, he simply says, like it’s nothing. 

Your heart tightens, you don’t want to cry, not now. Blinking your tears away, you almost manage to escape the discussion, turning around to clumsily fumble with the papers laying on his desk. “Do you have anything to clean yourself up ?” 

From the sound his bed makes, he probably sat down again, letting his body fall on his covers with another sigh. “Under the desk, in the white bag.”  You have to clear your throat, nod slightly as you bend down and take the said bag. 

“We’re friends.”, he finally tells you as you seat next to him, and oh how guilty you feel. From all the times you, him and your two other friends hung out in his very room, you don’t remember Mark’s bed being this small. You have to move closer anyways, one of your knees against his thigh as you face him. You look down and get busy with the first aid box, it seems he used it a few times already and you can’t help but picture him, in the dead of the night, having to clean his cuts and bruises when his friends think he’s peacefully asleep. 

“Look at me.” His voice’s softer, he probably knows you could cry at any point now. You do as you’re told after letting a few drops of liquid soak a cotton ball, finding yourself looking right into his brown eyes. 

“We’re friend, right ?”, this time, he asks, and you almost laugh and sob at the same time, a breathy sound coming from your lips. Mark sounds like a small kid on the first day of school trying to make friends, maybe a bit like when you two first met. 

“We’re friends.”, you tell both him and yourself before lightly tapping the cotton on his cheek, he smiles, your heart flutters. The young superhero doesn’t move, he doesn’t even acknowledge what you think would at least be a small sting. “Doesn’t hurt ?” 

“Why do you sound disappointed ?”, he asks with a laugh, one sound you like way better. “Small cuts heal quickly. The whole power thing, y’know.”

“Oh.”, is the only thing you’re able to let out, unconsciously leaning closer to rub at the cut, who you discover is just a bloodstain now. A pout on your lips, you have to look at his cheek a little bit closer. “Lucky.”

“Yeah.”, he says softly, but lets you finish your job anyways. Soon enough, his skin is clean, and as he said, there’s no cut underneath. You don’t think anyone knows about this side of his power, after all, the university’s newspaper doesn’t know a lot either, feeding itself from witnesses. 

“Thank you.”, you finally tell him, voice hushed as prepare another cotton. 

“Hm ?”

“For not getting mad and y’know…Kicking me out.”, you don’t look at him, turning your attention towards another cotton ball you soak in product now that you know it won’t hurt him. He laughs at that, air fanning over your face, you smile. 

“You could’ve, I don’t know. Threw me out the window. Covered my body with spider webs. Or- Can you bite ?” Mark laughs again, genuinely amused by your small monologue, so amused he doesn’t notice your fingers under his chin, nor does he notice how naturally he lets his face rest in the palm of your hand. 

“I can, but it won’t do anything special.” 

“Hm, interesting. Making a mental note for the school’s newspaper.” you joke, the mood is a lot less tense, Mark has this everlasting tired smile on his rosy lips, dusty cheeks and lazy eyes as he silently watches you. 

“Shut up.”, he breathes out, and you don’t answer to that. Finally, the silence that takes place isn’t as awkward or strange as it was, you press the cotton ball at the corner of his lips when he decided to shut up and stop talking, your heartbeat quickens. 

“Ouch!”, he whines as soon as the liquid touches his skin, visibly flinching away from your hand. “Oh, fuck, sorr-”, lips parted, eyes wide, you fumble to find a clean cotton ball in hopes of whipping the excess. 

“-m joking ! Y/N, I’m okay, I was just joking.”. No matters how many hours you spent with the brunette, or how many years you’ve known him, you won’t ever get his humour sometimes. Shooting him a death stare, hands still deep in his first aid kit, you’re the one who frowns. “Why would you do that, fuck.”

“This one’s because you wanted to tell on the school’s news, you snitch.”

“I was jok-”, you’d rather not finish your sentence, by the way he’s looking at you and smiling a bit too much for a bruised man, you know he just wants to annoy you. Fuck it, you have to grip his cute face in your hand for him to stop moving every minute. Rising on your knees, the lack of light makes you tilt his face upwards to get a better view. “Wait, don’t move.”, high school you would throw up as you move one of your knees, planting it between his legs, your palms get sweaty. 

“Let me take care of you, hm ?”, the sentence cames out a lot quieter than you wanted it to be, but after all, you’re close enough that the whisper rings in his ears, you have a lump in your throat. Mark’s lips part, just for him to close his mouth less than a second after, and he visibly swallows.

“O-oh, yeah. Okay.”, and that’s when you understand. That’s when you understand how close the two of you are and yet, you don’t pull back, you don’t really want to. His body heat and perfume strangely seem to calm you down. You’re almost body to body, you feel him breathe, you feel him move his legs the slightest bit under you, you see his pupils grow a bit more. 

The honey brown of his eyes seems to disappear, and you can’t decide if it’s because of you, or because of the lack of light in his small dorm. 

You don’t dare think it’s because of you, could it be ? You don’t know yours are as blown as his, and it’s definitely not because of his room’s darkness. 

Two clueless kids.  You press the cotton a second time on the corner of his lip, gentle as you clean the blood. He still has the habit of biting his lip, you think to yourself. He almost looks like he wore a cheer coat of lipstick, uneven and blood red. Soon enough, you’re cleaning nothing, simply stroking as you stare down.  

When did he become so attractive ? It’s when you catch yourself asking yourself this very question that you decide it’s time to back away, his scent and the warmth of his body does nothing but pull you in even more and you don’t think you can deal with that at this very moment. 

Mark, on the other hand, thinks something else.  As you’re about to pull away, completely detach your body from his and hopefully shake the haze he pulled you in out of your mind, his own hand gently wraps under your jaw. It’s a firm, yet delicate grip you can’t register right away because milliseconds later, his lips crash against your own. It starts off hesitant, trembling and unsure lips against your bottom lip. He tastes like the melon lollipops he likes so much, no signs of iron from the blood previously on the corner of his lips. For a moment, Mark doesn’t move, Mark almost pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing. 

He’s kissing you, the young hero doesn’t remember the first time he thought about actually doing it, that’s how long the brunette has been wanting it. It’s when his lips detach from your own, scared he crossed the line that you chase after him. You chase after his lips, you’re scared of it being a one time thing, you want more than the small kiss he dared to give you. Taking advantage of your position, your hand sneaks behind his head, fingers already finding purpose in his hair, tilting his head back as you dive in.

Clumsily, your mouth moves against his own, capturing his bottom lip. Your knees grow weak, body shivering when his hands dare to hold your hips. He’s unsure, hands resting on your hip bones, scared to move without your approval. You give it clearly once you softly bite on his bottom lip. The brunette quietly gasps against your mouth, and you dare to present your tongue, the pink muscle meeting his own in a breathless, wet, kiss.  Out of breath, you both have to pull away. Your reddish lips reflect his own, matching glossy eyes, it’s probably then that Mark loses it and pushes aside his shyness around you. Quickly, his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans, using his grip on the clothing piece to force your body down.  Your knees don’t need more to let your body fall onto his lap, or rather, his thigh. Strong and firm under your core, it takes all your will not to desperately grind on him, but your body aches to do it already.

“Waited so fucking long to do this.”, he confessed against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips on the side. His words make you blush a bit too hard, blooming flowers in your heart, your fingers tighten their grip on his locks. Such a simple gesture, yet it managed to make your old enemy moan, a stained sound he tried to hide by busying himself on your neck, painting dark petals. He sucks lightly there, and with this action only, it’s your turn to moan out. It’s a breathy sound, but it gets Mark so worked up his hands slide to the small of your back, resting just above your ass.

“You should’ve done it sooner.”, you tease him a bit, he can’t see the small smile on your face, but he definitely notices when your hips drag themselves against his thigh, losing your self-control. Another simple gesture, driven by pure lust, but it gets Mark’s eyes wide, his jeans a lot less comfortable. He groans, it comes deep from his chest, fuck it, he thinks.

Suddenly, he’s on top of you. Your mind’s so hyper focused on him that you follow his movement when he leans forward. Your back softly hits his bed, hair spreading on his pillow in a halo, the neighbourhood hero’s eyes linger for a moment on the two purple marks he left on your untouched skin, he decides he wants nothing more than to ruin you while having your body as close as possible to his.

“Pretty.”, it’s a simple murmur, so quiet you almost missed it, his right thumb softly draws circles on the two purple petals he left, like he couldn’t believe he was the creator, his left hand pinned just next to your head to support himself. You smile at yourself at the soft manner, but your smile quickly drops to have your lips parted when his thumb moves across, his hand now fully wrapped around your neck.

It gets your skin burning, legs closing for some relief as you feel yourself getting wetter, and Mark certainly notices your body’s reaction. Mark, or someone else. You don’t really know who’s facing you when his lips tug upwards in a devilish smirk, you’ll understand after that his newly found powers also brought a bag of confidence. “Fuck”, is all you’re able to mutter when his grip slightly tightens. He doesn’t even restrict your air canal, but it’s enough for you to understand what he’s thinking about.

“Mark.”, you call out, voice so small he just hums with another knowing smile. “Touch me.”, and it’s all he needs. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lowers his body towards you, making it harder for you to breathe. Resting on his forearm, his eyes never leave your face, he details every feature like he won’t see you ever again after this, he looks at you like he can’t get enough. You, actually do the same. You never noticed how cute his nose looked, small and button-like. However, you noticed how sharp his eyes looked, but never how one of his eyelids was more defined, or how good his new undercut looked.

Arms linked behind his head, you bite down on your bottom lip when Mark uses his knee to part your legs a little more, enough for him to get comfortable between your thighs. This time, it’s your turn to initiate the kiss, bringing his face towards yours with your arms. He’s more than happy to bend under your needs, smiling softly against you as he kisses you back.

This time it isn’t as hesitant, his lips dance at a rhythm you match perfectly, diving deeper before meeting your tongue again. You could easily get addicted to the taste and feeling, his saliva coats your taste buds when he licks into your mouth. It’s an exchange that gets sloppy, messy. Sighs, moans, and a whimper from you when finally, finally, his fingers toy with the button of your jeans.

“Can I ?”, he asks already knowing the answer, his forehead against your own. Throat dry, you nod quickly, so quickly it’s almost funny. Your hips rise up to help him take the tight fabric off of your body. “Good girl.”, Mark praises as he grips the fabric and easily slides it off your legs.

Strangely, you don’t feel exposed, you don’t try to hide, and even if you did, you both know Mark would’ve used his knee to part your legs again. You appreciate the way his eyes linger on your bare skin, right hand running on your outer thigh.   That’s when you remember the mismatching underwear you chose to wear that day, not thinking you’d end up in such a situation. Mark’s hand finally travels to your inner thigh, thumb stroking just next to your burning core.

“Baby, you’re leaking.”, the nickname rolls out of his tongue so naturally, it rings in your ears, makes your head spin a little more, you never thought you’d hear it. You downfall when his forefinger and middle finger press against your white panties, just so he can punctuate and prove his words. And yes, you’re drenched, the simple touch under the fabric is enough to have you clenching around nothing, silently anticipating his next move.

Thankfully, the college student isn’t planning on teasing you too much for tonight, he’s aching to finally touch you, feel you arch for what he has to give you. His fingers hook under your undies, swiftly taking it off your body to completely expose your core to him. “Off. Take it off.”, you’re babbling, at this point, hands fisting the fabric of his thick top, tugging at it. Mark finds it amusing, how weak you already are, begging just for him to take his top off, but he plays on it anyways. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Mark. Take your shirt off.”

And he does, hands gripping the fabric from the back to pull it off over his head, and quickly disregards it on the floor of his room. And, fuck.

Fuck, it’s the only word your mind can form, how ethereal can he look.

His pale skin reveals itself under the shy moon, the light makes his jaw and collarbones look sharper, his muscles and faint abs look carved in marble by Rodin himself. You think his nightly workouts on top of buildings really helped his figure, and your hands can only lock behind his back, fingers caressing his curved waist.

Quickly, your soft touches turn into sharp, red lines on his milky skin when he inserts a finger into your core without a warning. A gasp leaves your lips, his digit starts moving quickly, helped by the wetness between your legs and soon enough, another is added. His rhythm turns slow and steady, your walls hugging his fingers as you adjust to them. It manages to steal your breath, leaving you a panting mess under Mark’s body. His lips find purpose on your neck again, determined to decorate your skin even more. His breathe is ragged, like he’s the one being pleasured, ���That’s right, let me hear you.”

You both forgot about Mark’s neighbours and how thin the walls are, soft moans filling his room, the sound of the brunette’s wet kisses for your ears only. And, when he’s satisfied with your sounds, the superhero adds a third finger and picks up the rhythm, one that gets your back arching, eyes fluttering shut, biting your lip at how he stretches your walls. “So fucking tight, you can barely take my fingers.”

The men cooed, you barely register what he says, you never took Mark for the dirty talking type, but you definitely won’t complain. Not when he’s looking at you the way your core and his fingers connect like he’s about to eat you up. 

“Fuck, Mark, faster!”, you hands travel from his back to his hair, hips raising in an attempt to feel him a little more.  The light strain from the stretch is still there, but it’s a small amount of pain added to the pleasure, a mixture you love too much, a mixture you decided you’re addicted to when your old enemy pressed his thumb to your bud of nerves. The familiar knot in your stomach is threatening to burst at any moment, waiting for Mark to give the last blow.

“’m close.”, you realize, as Mark does. In seconds, his left hand pins your lower half to his bed, his lips find yours again when he understands how loud you could get. The kiss’ messy, teeth clashing, your moans and sighs breaking the exchange every few seconds. Mark decides he might be in love with your moans, a few flicks of the wrist, and his fingers reach deeper, thumb presses harder until you come undone underneath him.

You don’t really remember what you said, a mess of tangle words, swears and Mark’s name, but you do remember the slight taste of blood in your mouth from how hard you bite your lower lip. Mark’s fingers don’t slow down the slightest bit, his mouth leaves yours, wanting to watch your face as you come around his fingers.

“Fuck, look at you.”, he muses when he takes his fingers out, watching in awe as he finds them glittering from your essence under the low light. “Already so fucked out, just from my fingers, hm ?” And you are, slightly breathless, eyes glossy, lips red.

You were about to complain and whine about how empty your felt, until your mouth hangs open as Mark takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his digits like a starved moan finally getting a meal. That’s when you decide, you want him, you need him.

It takes him by surprise, how you rise to your knees and make him sit on his bed. “Are you okay ?”, he asks, like he’s scared he went too far or harmed you by accident. “Wanna suck you off.”, is all you tell him before your knees find to floor of his bed.

“Oh.”, and it’s his turn to lose his words, eyes hooded as he watches you slide down and gently start working on his jeans. Mark might cum right then and there when you take his pants off, the hand palming him through the thin layer of his boxer, humming at how hard he feels under your fingertips.

“Don’t tease.”, he warns, voice a bit deeper, but he isn’t fooling you, the impatience in his eyes is way too obvious. They never leave your figure when you take this very layer off of his body, judging your reaction. You think you choked on your saliva. The young men’s member might be average in weight, he’s above in length, something you didn’t expect, but again, won’t complain about. Your body also reacts by itself, you remember that you’re not wearing any underwear, and you don’t want to leak on his floor.

“Bab-.”, he calls to catch your attention, his voice getting caught in his throat when you overtake him by wrapping your hand around his dick. “Oh, shit.”, the breathy curse tumbles from his lips as your hand moves up and down, using the pre-cum already leaking from his head. His head automatically rolls to the side, his tongue poking out before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, sharp eyes impatient. “Thought you wanted to suck me off ?”, he asks, breathless, challenging.

He wanted to play, push your buttons like he used to in high school, but now, you have the upper hand. “Come on big girl, take i-“, you overtake him a second time, tongue flat running on his shaft, finding how his jaw drops and voice cuts a bit too amusing. “Fucking slut.”, is all he manages to articulate, chuckling at your antics. You, on the other hand, wasn’t expecting such words, a choked moan leaves your lips before you busy your mouth by taking Mark’s head between your lips, but he doesn’t miss your reaction.

His hand quickly finds your hair, freeing your vision from any locks that could block it, before slowly guiding you down his length. “Oh, you like when I call you a slut ?”, it’s a rhetorical question you’re not able to answer to anyways, you can only moan again against his dick as he eases himself into your mouth. “Dirty girl. Taking me so fucking well, god.” Jaw relaxed, he feels heavy on your tongue, your eyes might start tearing up.

His praises only make you more determined to pleasure him, you let him control the pace but hallow your cheeks, sucking on his head every time he guides your head up. “That fucking mouth, you were made for this, weren’t you ?”, he groans. His nails lightly scratch your head before he loses his composure, the steady and average rhythm he set turns rapid, his hips meeting your mouth halfway.

It’s when his squishy head hits the back of your throat that you have to breathe through your nose a bit harder, gagging around him every now and then. And, apparently, it drives Mark crazy. When you finally look up, innocent eyes planting themselves into his, you wished you had a camera to immortalize this very moment. The young superhero’s head thrown back, neck and Adam’s apple exposed, abs clenching as he’s getting closer and closer to his own high, his groans slowly turning into full moans. It’s melodic, beautiful sounds you don’t think you’ll ever get enough off. But, as your head starts moving faster, disregarding your sore throat and independently from his rhythm, he stops you. You whine when your mouth’s left empty, robbed from the want to see him come in your mouth.

“Wanna be inside you.”, his finger curl under your chin, helping you get up, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate, his hands are on your hips, before travelling under your shirt.

In a swift motion, he throws your body on his bed once again, before he towers you.

“Y/N, do you want this ?”, he asks, and how careful he is now compared to the way he spoke before makes you genuinely smile. You take things into your own hands, quickly taking your shirt off, leaving your bra on for Mark to take off. “Mark.”, you call out softly, and your arms like behind his head again. He hums, the college student looks like he’s in a daze, eyes wondering on your covered breasts. His face comes down once again, nose nuzzling against your cheek as he takes a deep breath, and that’s when you realize how fast your heart is beating. Despite that, your lean into his touch, closing your eyes, “Fuck me, wanna feel you.”

It’s all he needs to take things into his own hands, a shaky breath leaves his lips as he nods to himself. He can’t tease himself or tease you further, at this point, he just wants to be inside of you, be one, and take you. So, he does. His right hand aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes leave your figure for a split second before he finds your eyes again. You have to break the eye contact when he finally enters up, head stretching your walls even though his fingers prepared you moment prior.

Your eyes roll back as he gradually slides in, “There you go, fuck.”, sweet nothings are whispered into your ear, his right arm sneak under your back to keep you close, he wants to mold his body against yours, feel every breathe you take and sense every vibration from every moan, feel the sighs you let out die on his skin. His left forearm planted next to your hand, he used his leverage and chase after your lips again before moving his hips.

You, feel everything, every vein, especially when he slides out and rams in. You can’t keep up with the kiss, your head is thrown back, your body almost follows the movement and hikes up his bed, but he holds you close. You understand he’s been waiting to do this for a while, with the way he lets his cock move in and out of you in a slow pace, but still manages to thrust deep, so deep.

“You feel so fucking good. O-h god, Mark, babe.”, you cry out, in pure bliss, as Mark hides his face in the crook of your neck, the way you moan his name gets to his head a bit too quickly, it poison his mind and makes him lose any self-control he had. He who wanted to take things slow at first doesn’t keep up with his internal promise for long, he craves to hear more of your moans, more of his name falling from your lips in lust. The brunette picks up in pace, he gets rough, hips slapping against your own.

You’re surprise his bed isn’t moving more than that, actually, you’re glad. His bedframe would’ve banged against the wall of his room, your mouth agape. Your moans flow freely, maybe a bit too freely for Mark’s neighbour’s and integrity, god knows he would’ve let you be as loud as you wanted if he could.

“Tsk.”, a tired smile stretches his lips, his left hand finds your throat again and you welcome it with appreciation, letting the young man tighten his grip on the side of you neck. “Little slut is so loud.” You shake your head from left to right, you didn’t want to be, one of your hands leave Mark’s body so you can bite down on it and hopefully muffle your noises. But, the young men doesn’t like this idea so much, his left hand now wraps around your wrist, and before you know it, it’s stuck to his bedframe.

You blink, did he just ? Did he just use his powers on you ?

From the slight smirk he has on his face, on the white, web-like substance around your wrist, he just did.

“I never said I didn’t like it.”, he muses, before his thumb sneaks in your mouth, forcing your mouth open. Then, he gives one particularly hard thrust, one that actually sends your body up his bed, one that has you moaning loud enough that his entire floor probably heard.

“Holy sh-. Do that again.”, you could beg, at this point, eyes watery, and he doesn’t hesitate do to so. Your second orgasm comes so quickly, clenching around him.

“So greedy, you’re gripping me.”, he articulates between clenched teeth, you know he’s as close, but you’re so lost in him that you just nod, you stop trying to free your hand and grip his dark locks, trying to archer yourself to something, anything. Half opened eyes search for his, you mumble about how close you are as his left hand finds the bed sheet. He doesn’t hide in your neck, Mark lets you hear exactly how good you make him feel, he lets you see him. The thin layer of sweat on his hairline, his locks messy from your hands, the rose hue over his chest, the red lines your created creeping on his sides.

“Make me feel so good, fuck.”, you babble, Mark pulls you closer to his chest, “Come around me, wanna feel you.”, and it’s all you need. Like an order your body registers in this split second, you come a second time, a second orgasm that leaves you breathless. The air is knocked out of your lungs, you’re sure the entire building heard you moan out Mark’s name.

On the other hand, the young men follows quickly behind you, only needed that one last clench for him to let the sinful liquid spill inside of you. He comes in a few long, moaning frantically. Visibility, it leaves him tired as well. Mark doesn’t even take his shaft out, his body lazily lays on top of you without crushing you, a reassuring weight on top of you own tired body. The both of you just lay there, tired and maybe a bit choked, surprised, in a good way. It’s when Mark chuckles next to you that you dare and look at him. Your hair’s probably a mess, lips red and wet, makeup ruined, but Mark still runs a hand on your cheek, a sweet gesture you lean into, reassured. “What ?”

It’s almost comical, how his eyes turn from sharp and lust-filled to the sweet and joyful eyes you grew up around, the one that remind you of home. He looks up at your wrist, still firmly stuck to the bed frame, you almost forgot about it.

“What do you call a spider into BDSM ?” 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | five

> series masterlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: (2nd bts member to be revealed) x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut (to come)

words: 4.2k

warnings: implied sexual content, cussing / mature language, relationship issues, angst, club scene, alcohol consumption, intoxication, seokjin is ready to risk it all cause reader is a huge flirt, the love triangle mess shall begin

notes: AH IM SORRY, THAT’S ALL I HAVE TO SAY?!? I TRIED to make this as fair as possible, but i..... clearly have an issue and just really wanted this to be messy lmao 

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish​ @photographic-girl (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Waddup bro." Namjoon steps aside to let Jin in. "Wasn't expecting you to come by since we're seeing each other tonight." Jin chuckled.

"Fuck, that's right." Joon laughs as he hands Jin a bottle of water before sitting.

"What, you forgot? You planned this for your own stepbrother."

"No, I know. Just a lot of things going on." He sips on his water, manspreading in Namjoon's loveseat in the livingroom. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, the headache he felt earlier this morning no longer as bad, but still lingered. After getting home last night, he had tried to push you out of his mind, but failed miserably. It didn't help that he really and genuinely tried to clear the air with Grace, only for her to push him off and sleep on the far end of their bed.

"You alright? What's going on? I feel like I haven't seen you this stressed in a really long time. Last time was probably when you were planning your proposal." Jin softly chuckles, his head still tilted back.

"Yeah, it's been quite the shit show lately."

"Can't be that bad, can it? Have you and Grace been fighting?"

"A tad."

"A tad? The way you're acting right now says it's much more than a tad."

"We've been distant. Busy. We don't do things together anymore." He shortens the shpeel cause quite frankly, he's tired of repeating the story even though he hasn't told many people.

"Why don't you guys talk about it?"

"We can't communicate properly. I try, she gets even more upset and blows me off."

"It's probably just a rough patch in your relationship. I'm sure if you just give each other enough space, you could figure out how to fix things and have a serious conversation about where you both are at and what you need from each other. Remind each other that you're a team, and not working against each other." Jin's slightly shot his head up, his eyebrow raised.

"That's actually pretty solid advice coming from you."

"Shut up, you need help right?" Joon laughs.

"You're right though, it's just been hard. I feel like we've been constantly pushing each other away."

"You two are stubborn."

"Yup, that too." Jin sipped his water.

"I know that's not the only thing on your mind." If it was anyone in Jin's circle, you could count on Namjoon to figure things out before you can even say anything to him. "It's a little hard to believe you came over here to tell me this." In which, he's right. Jin never really talked about his relationship problems, let alone did he go out of his way to tell his friends what was going on. It was more of a thing that naturally came up in conversation when they were all together.

"Don't know what you're talking about." Joon shakes his head.

"Who is she?" Jin watches Namjoon's curious eyes as he leans into the palm of his hand. He was trying to come up with excuses or find ways to see himself out of his conversation, but he couldn't. Namjoon was too smart for this. If it were Yoongi or Hoseok, maybe he could get away with it. The only thing that Jin can come up with is a stupid smirk before he shakes his head and breaks eye contact. "See."

"See what?"

"That smirk. You can't tell me I don't know that smirk. I've been there before, dude. Who is she?" He repeats, causing Jin to succumb to defeat.

"She's a grad student in my creative writing class." Namjoon pauses before he bursts out in laughter.

"I need to sit back and get comfy on my couch for this." He says leaning back and crossing his arms. "She's a grad student? What's her name?" Jin nods.

"Y/N. 25 and so fucking attractive. It's frustrating." Jin groans into his hands.

"And you're telling me you see her more than just a distraction? I mean, I have to ask cause you are going through a rough patch with Grace." Although this is definitely not what Namjoon agrees with, he was only going to advise Jin on how to approach things. But execution-wise, it was up to Jin because this was his life. Namjoon was only part of it.

"She's smart, and she's fun. And.. she's refreshing."

"What did she do to make you feel this way?"

"She kissed me. In my classroom. And," Jin swallows the lump in his throat. "It happened again last night. It almost escalated into other things. But she stopped it." He quickly says because he can see Namjoon's facial expression changing. "She stopped it and she put me in my place because it just made things even more complicated. She said that we should keep our distance from each other."

"Which, she's right Jin. You really can't be doing this." Namjoon says sternly. "Please don't be stupid. This can hurt alot of people, especially since you're still engaged to Grace."

"I know, but likeeeeee--"

"No but's." Joon shook his head. Honestly, he didn't expect this behavior from Jin and it concerned him. "I can't force you on how to act, that's solely up to you. But you need to understand that it has to be one or the other, it can't be both. You either try and work things out with Grace and leave Y/N alone, or you call it quits with Grace."

"Y/N has been occupying my mind lately and it's been hard to push her out."

"Maybe that should be a sign as to what you need to do?" Joon sighs. "I don't know. I don't know her, so I can't say much, but are you really ready to throw away all these years with Grace for her? Like, is it really that serious?" Jin shrugged.

"I don't know, she doesn't want this."

"Correction - she doesn't want this because you're engaged. It's obvious that things would be different if the circumstances changed."

"I love Grace. A lot. We've been through so many things together, lots of ups and downs that taught us things."

"Yeah, and I love you both. I love Grace like a sister. But you can't stick around just because of history and because you both are comfortable, if that's what it really comes down to. It's not fair for both parties. If you find out that this is the end of your relationship with Grace, then it's the end."

"I'm just torn."

"Look, whatever you do, know that I support you no matter what and I'm always going to be here for you. But please do this right, no matter what that is. You can't have both of them."

"Yeah I know, I hear you." Joon nods.

"You're selfish, you know that?" Joon laughs. "You couldn't even introduce her to your single friends?" Jin smiled.

"Nope. Finders keepers." Joon rose his middle finger. "Just do me a favor and keep your mouth shut until I tell Yoongi and Hoseok myself."

"Sure, whatever. Not my battle anyways." He stood up and stretched. "So, where are we taking your little Jungkookie tonight?"

"The club so he can get some for his birthday."

"What a good older brother." Jin laughed.

"Is Grace in New York already?"

"Yep. I'm probably just going to head home and sleep until then. I don't remember the last time I stayed up this late, let alone the last time I went to a club."

"Yeah go home, and not to Y/N's house."

"Should I?" Jin joked, but Namjoon rolled his eyes. "I'm kidding, don't worry. Everything didn't just go in one ear and out the other."

"Yeah, please reassure me and tell me that I didn't waste time giving you advice."

"Oh my god, hurry up!" Jimin groaned loudly as he laid sloppily on your couch, getting restless while waiting for you, Ryujin and Taehyung to finish getting ready. To be fair, you all had been getting ready and fooling around for 2 hours, while Jimin sat patiently and watched whatever was on TV.

"Shut up, Jimin! I'm going to make sure I look good tonight." Ryujin yelled back.

"For who?"

"The dick I'll be getting."

"Why did I even ask?" Jimin sighed and dug his head into a pillow while you and Ryujin continued to yell and sing along loudly to every song that came through on your bluetooth speakers. "You all look good already, please, what else do you need to do?" He mumbled into the pillow. Don't get him wrong, he loves you all to death. He truly does. But it's just been such a long time since you all have gone out like this. He forgot what it was like.

"You know, she really means me." Taehyung tugged on his collar and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip.

"Okay, honestly. You two should probably fuck already. Get it out of your systems, you know?" You say as you dab lip gloss on your lips before shrugging and rolling your eyes. "Jesus Christ."

"Okay, no. You're supposed to be on my side, and that doesn't help." Ryujin's cheeks flush to a rosy tint as she pulls you aside. You knew damn well she was feeling embarrassed because it was true. She wanted to. Once Ryujin finally dusted herself off and was satisfied with her outfit, you both walked out into the living room to meet Jimin and Taehyung. Their eyes widened as they caught sight of you two, Ryujin in a pink, ruched dress with matching pink heels and you in a matching 2-piece skirt and low cut crop top.

"Oh shit, you both look good as hell." Taehyung says as he gets up and continues to eye both of you up and down. Mostly Ryujin, though. "Shall we head out?"

"Yup!" You say as you come to Jimin's side and lead the way out of your apartment. Jimin decided he'd drive tonight since he didn't feel like drinking too much, but he still wanted to go out and have fun. The crew headed to grab dinner at the Farmhouse Kitchen, which served the best Thai food in town. You all enjoyed some good grub, along with some really strong cocktails. You felt super happy that you all had time to finally do this since it's been a minute. You felt like you could finally let lose and get your mind off of things. The things that your dearest bestfriends don't even know about.

But, stories for other days. Tonight, you felt good and you looked good. You were all that and then some. Maybe tonight was the night you could meet a single, fine ass man to dance up on and act up with.

The cocktails were hitting you and Ryujin the most, already feeling tipsy before heading into the club.

"Wooooo!" Ryujin yelled before laughing out loud. "I'm ready!"

"Okay, yes, same, but please keep it together so we can at least make it inside the club." Jimin pleaded. He led your crew up to security, flashing your IDs one by one and paying for the cover fee before stepping in to the already packed nightclub. You and your friends ended up walking in a straight line, holding each other's hands to navigate through the crowd to the bottom floor. The top floor was the most crowded, being it was the house / EDM floor, while the bottom Hip Hop floor wasn't too jammed packed.

"Shots, my friends?" Taehyung asks as he swings over to the front of the bar. You follow behind him and line up against the bartender, asking for some good ol' Don Julio tequila. It wasn't your fave, but it was definitely Taehyung's go-to, and you can't lie, it got the job done quick for you. You all stick around the bar to take your shots, kicking them back to back [besides Jimin] to really get this night started.

As you waited for the final around, Taehyung is scanning the room and notices a group loudly making their way from down the steps and over to the bar. They were cheering on whoever the birthday boy was. A face in the group had looked familiar, so Taehyung squints his eyes to get a better look, and realizes its no other than Jin with his friends.

"Oh, shit! Look! Mr. Kim's here!" Taehyung laughs and says loudly, pointing towards the other end of the bar.

"Is he really?! Let's go take a shot with him and his friends!" Ryujin squeals as she sees him come into full view. You too, get a glimpse of him as they approach the bar and suddenly, you felt hot and nervous - the alcohol being of no help during this time. He looked good, and he didn't look like the already-handsome-professor you had. His hair was more natural, slightly curly, and almost like he had showered and let it messily air dry. The look was perfect on him. Not gonna lie, you were somewhat happy he was here to see how good you looked and part of you really wanted him to crave you until he couldn't take it anymore. You wanted to drive him crazy, and little did you know that you already were. It was a game you didn't mind playing, especially since you knew you couldn't have him.

You shouldn't.

"Ayeeeee! Mr. Kim!" Taehyung's ass yells with Ryujin cheering in the back. He does nothing but flash that smile of his while chuckling. His friends are all really handsome as well, one especially caught your eye with the way his wavy black hair fell down his eyes as he stood against the bar in black ripped jeans and a button up shirt. He seemed to be the youngest out of the group, but you were just assuming.

"Let's take a shot! On me!" Ryujin yells as she runs over with her loud ass. You follow behind her with Taehyung and Jimin, slightly hiding behind Jimin since you were feeling a little shy and awkward at this encounter. The events of the past days just flashed before your eyes, and you can feel Jin's eyes burning holes through you from your peripherals.

"These are your students?" You overhear as one of them looks behind at Jin and laughs.

"Yup." Is all he says, hands deep into his pockets.

"That's her isn't it?" Namjoon says in his ear, loud enough to make sure its clear over the music blasting. Jin simply looks at him without saying a word before returning his attention back on Jungkook, who he noticed was eyeing you. The look said everything to Namjoon.

"Do you know her?" Jungkook points at you and Jin nods.

"Why?"

"Why? She's gorgeous." His eyes light up, causing Namjoon to slightly choke and laugh behind Jin.

"Go for it." Is all Jin says. He's honestly livid right now, because the thought of someone else being able to get a taste of you while he hasn't fucks him up.

"Ohhh, boy." Namjoon sighs. "I hope you're truly over her or else it's going to get really fucked up, you know that right?"

"Don't worry about it." He says, dismissing him as he takes the shot from Yoongi's hand and immediately downs it.

"Hey." The black-haired cutie that caught your eye pushed his way through the group to come into full view. "I'm Jungkook."

"Y/N." You lightly shake his hand before tucking a strand behind your ear.

"I just wanted to say that you're absolutely gorgeous." He says cutely, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Aw, thank you. That's so sweet."

"I, uh—"

"It's his 23rd birthday today!" One of the guys against the bar yells, grabbing Jungkook's shoulders and playfully massaging it.

"Yeah, it's his birthday Y/N! Give the boy some love!" Ryujin winked from where she was at.

"Happy Birthday." You chuckled as he nods.

"Thanks. Maybeeeee you can bless me with a dance after this shot?" He asked shyly. Boy, was he fucking attractive. You could see his thighs poking through the rips of his jeans, his sharp collarbone poking out from the unbuttoned portion of his shirt and his arm muscles defined even in the dark.

"Yeah, I'd love to." You leaned back against the bar as he stood next to you, waiting for the round of shots to come. "Are these your friends?" He chuckled.

"More like big brothers? That's Yoongi, that's Hoseok and that's Namjoon. They're Jin's friends. Jin is my stepbrother." You swallowed the lump in your throat as you quickly glance at Jin, who's side-eyeing you as he leans against the bar. You have got to be fucking kidding me. God was truly testing you.

"Ohhhh." You respond. "That's sweet of them to take you out."

"I honestly didn't wanna do much, let alone come to the club. It's not really my thing, but I'm glad I did or else I wouldn't have met you." He smiled, his smile being just as perfect as his stepbrother's.

"I'm glad I could make your birthday a good one after all." Ryujin suddenly comes to your side and gives your arm a good squeeze.

"He's a cutie! You better hop on that since Mr.Kim is taken." She says in your ear, pulling you into a hug.

"That's his stepbrother."

"Even better!" She exclaims, making you shake your head. You all gather and take the last round of shots in honor of Jungkook's birthday and shit gets wild, quick. Your group led them to the dance floor, partying together like you had known them since forever. It didn't feel awkward at all knowing it was Jin and group of friends, but it did get awkward when you felt the tension with Jin every time you were near him. He didn't like seeing you dance all up on his stepbrother, getting all handsy and touchy-feely when just the other night, you were straddling his lap, ready to risk it all.

Hell, what was he gonna do though? He couldn't do shit. Not with his people around, especially Namjoon.

You knew this. He didn't have to say anything for you to know he wasn't a fan of it. You'd catch him looking at you throughout the night, his eyes hungry and almost dark. Let's get this straight - there's no bad blood here. You're not mad or bitter [slightly]. You're just having your fun because you're single and can do whatever the fuck you want. You know he wants you, what's wrong with a little tease?

A couple of songs have passed and Ryujin has made her way through Taehyung, Yoongi and Namjoon, and now she was back to doing her own thing on the dance floor. Jimin has had a couple of ladies welcome themselves onto his lap, and he gladly accepted. You loved seeing Jimin have fun and you especially loved when girls swooned at the sight of him because he was deserving of it and he was mighty good looking. He always worked hard and never gave himself a break.

You, on the other hand, had been stuck to the hip with Jungkook and you had brought him deeper into the dance floor, away from the group just to get a little alone time. You had danced up on him majority of the night, his muscular arms always gently bringing you back against his body. You both were feeling some type of way with the alcohol running through your veins, but you weren't complaining one bit. Alcohol or not, Jungkook was fine.

"So, are you going to let me take you out on a date?" Jungkook asks in your ear, causing you to bite onto your bottom lip.

"I'd love to go out on a date with you." You face him, his smile going from ear to ear as he nods and starts taking down your number. To be honest, you could be here all night with him, but you decided you needed a break from all this dancing and from the crowded dance floor. You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, suddenly needing to break the seal really badly and freshen up. As you were exiting the bathroom, Jin was also exiting the men's bathroom at the same time. You both locked eyes, with you breaking the contact with a small, toothless smile before walking off.

"Y/N." He says, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him. His body is against the back wall, both of your groups distant and not as visible from where you're standing. He looks down at you, his hand still wrapped around your wrist.

"Jin."

"You haven't said one word to me all night."

"I'm trying to keep my distance from you, remember?"

"You know that's not necessary." His hand was now on the small of your back, fingers gently caressing your back in small circles.

"It is. You know what you do to me." You say as you look down at his lips. Truthfully.

"And so do you." You can feel his breath against your skin and it sends goosebumps down your entire body. You're trying your hardest right now to not get turned on by this man, let alone throw yourself onto him. "This isn't fair, you know?"

"I gotta get back to everyone." You say, slightly pulling back.

"Just for the record," He gently pulls you back, his other hand lifting your chin. "Jungkook might have you right now, but I know in the end you'll be coming home to me and that's all that matters." He lets go of your wrist and walks away, leaving you slightly dumbfounded at the way he stood his ground like that. Your panties felt soaked, and you wanted nothing more but to ride this man into the next dimension. He was truly testing you, and quite frankly, you could burst any minute now.

"You okay?" Jimin says, lightly squeezing your arm. "You were gone for awhile."

"Yeah, long line." You lied.

"We're thinking about heading out, you good with that?" You nod silently. You look around to see Ryujin flirting with Yoongi and Namjoon, making you shoot him a look. "Not me, all you. Go get her." He shakes his head, chuckling.

"Alright, I need to say bye to Jungkook anyways."

"Oooh, Jungkook." He wiggles his eyebrows. You make your way over to the area that Jin and his friends are occupying, prying Ryujin's drunk ass away. You give Jungkook a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek, letting him know you'd be waiting for his text.

Finally, you all headed out of the club and into Jimin's car, Ryujin being the first drop off of the night. Thank God he had decided to drive, because all three of you were still pretty tipsy and in no condition to get behind the wheel.

"Y/N, listen to me. You need to hop on Jungkook because he's fine as fuck!" Ryujin's drunk ass yells in the backseat as Jimin is making his way to her house.

"Ouch, Ry, stop kicking my chair." Jimin whines.

"Y/N, did you hear me?"

"I hear you loud and clear, Ry. Thank you." You laugh.

"And you, Jimin! I hope you grabbed a ton of numbers because there were tons of pretty ladies feeling you tonight and you need a girl!"

"Perfect, thank you for pointing out how single I am." He says, making Taehyung snorts.

"What about me?"

"Shut up, Tae. You don't need shit. Mind your own business." You and Jimin laugh in your seats.

"Also, Mr. Kim was really eyeing the hell out of you tonight, Y/N." She adds, making you sigh silently to yourself.

"Actually, I concur." Jimin chimes in. "He couldn't keep his eyes off of you."

"Mistress Y/N." Taehyung calls out, causing you to turn and pinch him on the leg. If you haven't gotten it by now, Tae loves to tease the fuck out of you by calling you a mistress. It's been his thing since you got all googly-eyed for him. And you hated it. You truly wanted to fight him every single time.

"It was nothing. He was probably just drunk."

"Sure." Jimin responds. "Call it what you want, he was definitely feeling you tonight." The ride goes silent, which, you're happy that none of them are pressing on it. You were not trying to get caught up at this moment.

Ryujin gets dropped off before Jimin makes his way to your apartment, parking in the yellow passenger/loading zone. Taehyung is knocked out in the back seat, while Jimin throws his hazards on and walks you to the front door of the lobby.

"Thanks for driving, Chim." He smiles and pulls you into a hug.

"No prob. Call me if you need me?" You nod. You walk in and get into the elevator, Jimin and his car disappearing in sight. You take a deep breath and sigh because you had been having an internal battle since the moment you stepped out of the club.

You were losing.

You stepped out of the elevator, only to step into your apartment to quickly freshen up and throw on comfier clothes. You find yourself heading back downstairs to meet your Uber. You knew exactly where you were going and you knew exactly what you were doing.

But you didn't give a fuck. You had been dying to get your needs fulfilled and the only person you wanted was a quick 25 minute Uber trip away.

[descentivity]

Depression, Trauma, (and Most Importantly,) My Thoughts on Hello Charlotte EP1 & 2

Eating has been difficult for me for as long as I remember. It started off as an aversion to food, in favour of spending my time more efficiently on what my dumb little mind viewed as more important: Homework, video games.

Over time, it turned into anorexia. I had already gotten used to eating just under 500 calories a day, and my depression took my poor habits and twisted them into a cowardly and slow attempt at suicide.

On my road to recovery, I’ve found that years of poor eating choices have lead to my body struggling to process food. I have to eat at a painstakingly slow pace lest my stomach turns against me, and the smell of food is sometimes enough to diminish my appetite altogether. My bowel movements are, for lack of a better word, a shitshow.

This brings me to today, the 10th of August, 2021. 6 or so years of barely eating enough to survive later, I’m setting the world record for the slowest consumption of a fillet o’ fish in the history of mankind. 

In my absolute boredom and unfathomable stomach pain, ManlyBadassHero’s playthrough of some random horror game (I can’t remember the name) appears in my YouTube recommended, and I’m reminded of a horror game I bought on sale on Steam, the last of a trilogy. In all honesty, I only bought the game because it was dirt cheap and one of my sisters’ names is Charlotte. I was too horrified at the time to process the story nor play the previous two games, so I did a quick achievement run and left it at that. I was certainly very confused as I had no idea who any of the characters or what any of the concepts were, but the gore had me too mortified to go and find out myself. 

A year later, I’m looking the trilogy up on ManlyBadassHero’s YouTube channel, and decide to start from the beginning of his Hello Charlotte journey, in 2016.

Hello Charlotte EP1

I’m going to be completely honest with you, the first game really didn’t resonate with me too well. It was a cute, quirky, RPG Maker horror game, with two loveable main characters and an interesting world. However, with context from the third game, the events felt too self-isolated and inconsequential. Felix and Charlotte are in a little self-contained TV world created by a fictional race called Pythia - creatures with 3 or 4 eyes that can create miniature dimensions, once brought into a hivemind by an “Oracle,” which seems to be some sort of god. They all seem to be falling apart and have taken a horrific turn as most of the Pythia have been “executed,” and those who haven’t have either gone mad or into hiding in their own bubbles of (albeit temporary) safety.

The ending of the game is somewhat misleading, too. Once Charlotte and Felix escape the TV world by having Charlotte merge with the Oracle itself, the game almost plays off the previous events like they were all a story made up by a young and imaginative Charlotte. Did they happen at all? Is she a reliable narrator or point of view to begin with? (Spoiler alert, she is not.) The explanation for it all seems to be that Charlotte herself is a schizophrenic, though the legitimacy of this is brought into question in the third game, which I will talk about later. Altogether, the game didn’t bring out many strong emotions in me, and I was starting to zone out as I moved on to the second game’s playthrough.

Hello Charlotte EP2

What struck me as odd in the second game is that while the first game seemed to bring Charlotte out of her own strange, black-and-white world and back into reality, we’ve found out that she’s right back where we started last game. A black-and-white world, inhabited by her imaginary friends. Aliens, gods, and the like. However, Charlotte’s seemingly made-up world feels more alive this time. I’m not sure if this is the consequence of the game developer improving their skills or an intentional detail, but even more characters are introduced, and previously shallow tenants of Charlotte’s home are given more depth. The hazmat-suit wearing aliens have faces, personalities and whole backstories attached to them, now. Charlotte has a best friend at school named Anri, who has a obsessive crush on her. She’s friends with a bullying victim named C with horrible germaphobia, who has almost identical struggles to her (more on those struggles later.)

What also surprised me is the continuity between the first and second game. For some reason, I thought that this Charlotte would be starting from scratch, completely oblivious to the fate of the first game’s iteration. However, this concept only seems to be used in the third game, so I guess I was simply mislead. This game, in fact, takes place 3 years after the first, and the Oracle still lives on within Charlotte’s conscious. However, it’s a dying god, on its last leg. It had already been dying during the time of the last few Pythia, but it had used the last of its strength to free Felix and Charlotte from their world. As the Oracle’s health declines, so does Charlotte’s mortal body.

Unlike the first game, most of the themes in this game hit way too close to home. The feeling of second-hand helplessness when someone you barely knew ends their own life. Anri’s obsessive and outright manipulative lesbian crush on Charlotte, bordering on bullying. The schooltime harrassment and trauma Charlotte underwent. The fear and dangers of social interaction. Feeling unlawfully punished by your school teachers for seemingly nothing at all. Depression, self harm, and the primal urge to escape from it. Getting roped into others’ mental health, until both of your issues converge into a disgusting amalgamation of the need but severe lack of therapy and a break from it all. Delusions of what could’ve been and the possible, yet near impossible future ahead. Looking back on everything you’ve ever done and regretting every second of it.

While I ticked off the trauma presented to me on a silver platter in the form of a fucking RPG Maker game like a twisted bucket list, I found myself relating more and more to not only Charlotte, but the students around her. Scarlett, whose life was so perfect that nobody had even thought about her possible mental issues until it was far too late. Anri, who would lay down her life for a girl who simply doesn’t feel the same way. C, who desperately wanted to escape from reality by any means possible.

An interesting fact about Hello Charlotte is that there are numerous omnipotent beings amongst its cast. They aren’t shy about providing very in-depth character analysis to Charlotte, and in turn, to the puppeteer (I suppose now is a good time to inform those who are unfamiliar with the series that the puppeteer refers to a species, character, and the player, all at once. Charlotte has a puppeteer controlling her by the name of Seth. You are/are controlling Seth as the player. Capiche? Capiche.)

What this meant for me watching Manly’s playthrough was the feeling of two gods (in this game, at least) peering right into my soul, analysing characters that reflected my exact experiences and even my personality during my school days. I learned and realised things about myself that I simply hadn’t known before. Just like Charlotte, I’m simply looking for direction in life, and I’m too afraid to act without instructions. I found myself bullied, manipulated and abandoned by someone who simply wanted my affections, and only learned to miss them when they were gone. Like Anri, my desperation for love and approval from an individual in turn lead to anger and resentment for them. Like both Charlotte and C, I eventually turned to hurting myself to make all the pain go away, refusing help from others and developing a shell of false optimism and naivety to forget about the damage I had dealt to my body, personality and relationships.

As much as I hate to admit it on my little obscure Tumblr blog with 0 followers and 0 traction, I still struggle with these things. I have no direction in life, and wander aimlessly, hoping for one of my offshot attempts at content creation to take off. I find myself missing the girl who emotionally abused me to hell and back every day. I resent another girl for never feeling the same way I felt about her. I still don’t take care of myself, and spend every day in a state of denial about my physical decline and sickliness. I’m so incompetent emotionally that I spend days ignoring my own boyfriend, starving him of the proper relationship that he deserves all because of how broken, fragmented and distant my own mind is.

Hello Charlotte EP2 has four endings. All four of them, in my eyes, are bad.

In the first, C and Charlotte overdose together, leaving their mortal realm to become gods. They choose to ignore and forget the pains of their mortal lives, and live the rest of their godly lives in ignorant bliss. Do I want to forget about my depression and trauma? Learn nothing, and forget about everything that made me who I am today? Or worse even, do I dare take the plunge into “godhood,” and leave this mortal plane to end my suffering altogether?

In the second, Charlotte discovers that C isn’t who she thinks he is, and she finds him without a soul. Alive, but empty. Charlotte could not save him. Consumed by grief, she ascends and becomes a god, consuming the entire world around her. After all is said and done, she realizes her mistake. All of her friends are gone, C is still empty and unresponsive, and now she is alone. Sometimes, I feel as though I’ve already gone through this ending, many times over. Countless times I’ve let my depression become all-consuming and take over my life. I’ve pushed so many people away and hurt so many more, and for what? I have nothing to gain from every fit of depression, and the consequences make it seem nothing more but a selfish attempt to make myself feel better.

In the third, Charlotte is the only one who dies. In her last moments, the Oracle comforts her, like a mother cradling her child. They embrace, and say goodbye to each other, as Charlotte’s own life was the only thing keeping the dying god alive. At this point, I’ve started to draw parallels between the Oracle and depression. Depression isn’t always a horrible thing that beats you down and keeps you from being truly happy. Sometimes, wallowing in my own sadness and depression would be the only thing that keeps you sane, stable, and calm. The feeling of hopelessness really is bittersweet, and in desperate times, goes hand-in-hand with acceptance of one’s circumstance. Oftentimes, I find that this is the most realistic way I’ll go out. One day, I may just accept depression, and succomb to it. There may not be a struggle at all. Rather, a quiet, submissive hum, which will fade away into silence.

In the fourth and final ending, Charlotte and C die alongside each other. After her death, Charlotte confronts the Oracle, and wishes to save everyone, and for everyone to be unhappy. Of course, this is where the classic saying: “Be careful what you wish for” comes in. Because of her wish, everyone’s soul, what makes them individual and unique, is erased. After all, no one can suffer if they cannot think at all. In some ways, emptiness is pure bliss. This once again goes back to the bittersweetness of depression. The sheer emptiness it may bring on, at times, is bliss. Feeling nothing isn’t always a bad thing. It’s a way to cope with the horrors of the world. To remember nothing at all is such a tempting yet unattainable solution that I can’t say I haven’t longed for in the near or distant past. Charlotte, of course, is distraught that her friends are all gone, their identities and souls lost forever. Following this, she has one request to make of another god, the observer. She wishes to be killed, as all of her actions have lead to nothing but pain for others and herself. The observer, however, refuses this offer. Instead, he comforts her and takes her hand. They go on a journey together. He suggests that one day, she’ll learn to control her power, and she can recreate the world and her friends. As they leave, Charlotte reflects on her hopes and dreams for the journey. She hopes to learn to be kind, and not hurt others. She wants to change her ways, and become an honest, good person. Charlotte, slowly but surely, is on the road to recovery.

Putting the unsettling sequel to this game aside, maybe I could learn a little bit from Charlotte.