#both of them connecting in dreamlike states

[glitterynebulas]

soriku kh4 reunion angst thoughts

[neocitylights]

SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door. 

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now. 

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is. 

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along. 

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you. 

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too. 

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward. 

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience. 

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor. 

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes. 

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space. 

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings. 

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words. 

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first. 

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off. 

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school. 

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded. 

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause. 

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames. 

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you. 

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write. 

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires. 

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases. 

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck. 

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face. 

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend. 

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers. 

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it. 

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine. 

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…” 

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods. 

“Maybe it’s better that way.” 

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar. 

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked. 

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there. 

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t. 

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks. 

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name. 

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens. 

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while. 

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times. 

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up. 

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face. 

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance. 

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it. 

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern. 

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days. 

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor. 

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.” 

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.” 

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.” 

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued. 

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.” 

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.” 

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.” 

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.” 

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject. 

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?” 

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.” 

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry. 

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to. 

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice. 

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.” 

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal. 

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days. 

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project. 

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time. 

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first. 

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways. 

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction. 

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.  

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction. 

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk. 

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.” 

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.” 

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing. 

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist. 

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often. 

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.” 

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes. 

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way. 

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day. 

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts. 

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity. 

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces. 

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming. 

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now. 

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter. 

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days. 

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten. 

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you. 

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link. 

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it. 

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence. 

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours. 

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough. 

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own. 

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around. 

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?” 

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer. 

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?” 

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer. 

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks. 

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!” 

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK

MASTERLIST

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Simple Astrology Observations

People with Leo placements often feel very self-assured. Since Leo is ruled by the Sun, which represents one’s core self, those with Leo placements tend to have a strong sense of identity. You cannot tell a Leo who they are—they are more likely to tell you who you are.

If you have Cancer placements, emotions play a significant role in your life—not just in how you feel, but in the emotional themes that guide your decisions. You need to feel emotionally clear and balanced in whatever you pursue. The energy of a space matters to you, and you seek to create a sense of peace, both for yourself and those around you. Cancer placements are deeply caring, prioritizing emotional security and the well-being of others.

For those with Gemini or Virgo placements, communication is incredibly important. Virgo, ruled by Mercury, values precision in speech, ensuring that their ideas are conveyed clearly and accurately. They take communication seriously, paying close attention to the words they use and how they structure their thoughts. Gemini, also ruled by Mercury, thrives on expression. The worst thing for a Gemini is feeling unheard or unable to share their thoughts. Communication is the outlet through which they process their many ideas, and without it, they can feel restless and unsettled.

Taurus and Libra, both ruled by Venus, prioritize love and connection. Taurus dislikes being single, as love is deeply ingrained in their nature. They seek to nurture and nourish those they care about, especially their closest relationships. Similarly, Libras thrive in love. They value bonds and daily communication with those they cherish. For a Libra, talking regularly with loved ones—whether friends or a romantic partner—is essential to their well-being.

Aries and Scorpio share a strong, feisty energy due to their Mars rulership. People with these placements are more prone to conflict, including physical altercations, even if they aren’t the ones to initiate them. Additionally, Mars’ influence heightens their desire for physical intimacy, making it a central aspect of their personality and emotional well-being. Aries and Scorpio placements often feel a deep need for consistent and passionate physical connection to maintain their spirits.

If you have Sagittarius or Pisces placements, you are driven by an insatiable desire for more—more experiences, knowledge, and growth. These signs do not settle easily, and even when they appear to, their minds are often wandering, imagining new possibilities or planning their next adventure. Stagnation is unsettling for them.

Aquarius and Capricorn, ruled by Saturn, often feel as though they are walking an uphill battle in life. Whether due to strict parenting, restrictive work environments, or self-imposed limitations, they frequently experience a sense of constraint. Aquarius, in particular, craves change and can be unpredictable, making them difficult to keep up with. Their transformations tend to be sudden and unexpected rather than gradual.

For Pisces placements, imagination is everything. Attempting to force a Pisces to be more “realistic” or grounded disrupts their natural flow, making it difficult for them to feel at peace. It is often better to let a Pisces exist in their dreamlike state rather than trying to pull them down to reality. If you do, you may encounter their less pleasant side.

Those with Scorpio placements experience profound transformations throughout life. Who they once were often feels distant from who they become. Their journey involves peeling back layers of buried emotions and illusions until they finally uncover their deepest truth. At some point, every Scorpio placement undergoes a powerful awakening where they recognize and embrace their authentic self.

If you focus on your rising sign, you may find it to be one of the hardest placements to internalize. The rising sign represents how you show up in the world, but it may not feel like an accurate reflection of your true self. For example, if you have an Aries rising but a water sun and moon, you might struggle to keep up with the fiery, bold energy others perceive in you. On the other hand, if your rising sign aligns closely with your sun sign, it will likely feel more natural.

The Midheaven (MC), though often associated with career, represents a broader sense of achievement and purpose. An Aries Midheaven may indicate a life goal of cultivating independence and authenticity, while a Libra Midheaven might strive for harmony, balance, and meaningful relationships. Rather than dictating a specific career path, the Midheaven reflects the aspirations that align with one’s true self.

Pluto is a planet of power, but many people develop an imbalanced perception of it based on how they were raised. Your relationship with your Pluto placement is deeply influenced by your upbringing. However, Pluto ultimately reveals where your power and influence lie in this life, making it one of the greatest tools to harness for your career, relationships, and daily life.

Neptune is the planet of the unseen, and your Neptune placement reveals where you lack clarity. It represents areas of life that feel elusive, confusing, or difficult to grasp. For example, having Neptune in the fifth house may indicate struggles with understanding romance, self-expression, courting, or dating. These aspects of life may feel unclear or difficult to navigate.

Uranus is the planet of progression, and your Uranus placement reveals the areas of life where you feel driven to grow and evolve.

Jupiter is the planet of satiety, representing what you need in life to feel fulfilled, satisfied, and content.

Saturn is the planet of long-term goals, which is why it brings restriction and obligations—these are the challenges we face when pursuing long-term objectives. In this lifetime, Saturn represents what you should aim to achieve.

[astrolook]

The Catalyst Synastry That Triggers Your Destruction (and Rebirth) 🔥💀

Note: These are just my personal observations over the years and should not be taken as absolute truth. Astrology is complex, and every connection is unique. Take what resonates and leave the rest. Lemme know in the comments!😉

Some people come into your life to love you. Others? To flip your entire existence upside down, burn it to the ground, and force you into a self-help era you never signed up for. Coincidence? Nope. It’s synastry. Let's see some relationship synastry overlays/aspects today!

Their Pluto in your 1st - They enter your life, and suddenly, you’re going through the biggest glow-up or hit rock-bottom and get existential breakdown of your life. No in-between.

Their Mars in your 8th - This person activates your deepest fears, kinks, and paranoia all at once. Either you really love them or hate them with a passion.

Their Moon in your 12th - You feel so connected to them and feel like they can read your mind. It’s because they live rent-free in your subconscious, triggering all your past-life trauma like a fever dream. You won’t realize the damage until they’re gone. And then? Good luck healing.

Their Saturn in your 7th - This one feels like a serious relationship. Until you realize that "serious" actually means suffocating, karmic, and possibly an unpaid internship. They either build you up or age you 10 years. Maybe both.

Their Venus in your 6th - They enter your life, and suddenly, you are doing their tasks like it's your part-time job. They love you. But they also love how convenient you are.

Their North Node in your 10th - Either a career change or a scandal. You will evolve, but first you will suffer. This person can either tear your public life apart and get you a bad name in the society or make you powerful. No in-between.

Their Neptune in your 5th - Love at first sight. Until it’s delusion at second sight. You were convinced they were your soulmate. Turns out, you just ignored all the red flags and created a fanfiction in your head.

Their Mars in your 4th - They feel like home until you realize it’s a home with constant fights. Your family probably hates them or vice versa. Childhood wounds are activated & parental issues are triggered. It’s not just passion, it’s war in your safe space. The relationship is either deeply healing or emotionally exhausting.

Chiron conjunct Moon - They expose every emotional wound you thought you healed. You cry. A lot. Sometimes over things you didn’t even know hurt. It might feel comforting and cruel at the same time.

Mars opposite Moon - They push every emotional button you have. Fights so devastating your ancestors feel it. The passion is insane. The emotional stability is nonexistent. You leave the relationship either stronger or in shambles. They make you feel wanted, desired, and constantly misunderstood.

South Node conjunct Sun - You know them maybe from a past life or maybe from a nightmare. They drain you emotionally, mentally, sometimes financially. You owe them something. You’re not sure what, but it’s ruining your life. You try to leave. You can’t. Not until the karma is paid. When it’s over, you’re relieved.

Uranus opposite Venus - You are both obsessed and repulsed at the same time. Passionate one day, distant the next. You never feel bored but also never feel safe.Just when you think it’s stable, BOOM. Another unexpected breakup. It ends suddenly. And you’re left wondering WTF just happened.

Moon opposite Uranus - One day, they adore you; the next, they disappear. You never know what’s coming next which is terrifying. The emotional highs are exhilarating and the lows are devastating. You’ll never be the same after this one.

Neptune conjunct Mercury - Their words sound like poetry. Until you realize it’s just well-crafted confusion. Miscommunication is a core feature of this relationship. They either gaslight you into a dreamlike state or open your mind to new realities. Maybe both. When it's over, you realize you feel in love with an illusion.

Venus square Pluto - Instant attraction or feels like you stepped on a landmine. This connection will ruin your peace and possibly your bank account. You don’t “get over” this one. You just learn to live with the emotional damage.

✨ Wanna know more about your birth chart or your relationship? DM me for a synastry or complete birth chart reading ✨ and check out my pinned post for pricing! 🌟💫

[littlest-w01f]

All Night Long

Rhysand x Reader

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

BDAY CELEBRATION

Summary: Throughout the party his father threw for him, he only wished to spend time with you.

Cw: None

Rhysand knew that as Heir to Night, his father would always want to show him off, and even if he had to pretend to like the lavish decorations, the thousand tiere cake, all the people he didn't even know here to congratulate him. He didn't like it, all he had asked for was a quiet birthday in Velaris with Azriel and Cassian, and of course, you. But his father had brought him to Hewn City to throw the giant party he was dreading

His gaze drifted around the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for any sign of his mother, you, Azriel or Cassian amidst the crowd. You were his only solace in this overwhelming celebration. Rhysand's heart ached for the simple gathering he had envisioned, just them, sharing laughter and cake in the comfort of Velaris.

The Heir grew increasingly restless as the night wore on at Rhysand's lavish birthday celebration. The opulent decorations, decadent feast, and lively music were all mere background noise compared to the captivating presence of his favourite - you.

Your radiant smile, the way your eyes sparkled with mirth as you laughed at your brother's jest, how you seemed to shine even in the dark of the Court of Nightmares, the gentle sway of your hips as you moved through the crowd, every aspect of you held Rhysand entranced. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt such an intense, all-consuming desire to be near someone.

As the party reached its peak, the dancing and music increasing, Rhysand made his move, slipping away from his parents and their expectant gazes. He wove through the throng of faeries until he finally reached your side, pulling you close into the shelter of his embrace, away from Cassian.

His scent enveloped you, a heady mix of dark magic, citrus, the sea, and something uniquely Rhysand that stirred your senses. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you flush against his chest as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

"I need a break from all this," Rhysand murmured, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers traced idle patterns on your lower back, sending shivers down your spine. "Will you dance with me, y/n? Just the two of us?"

His voice was low and husky, filled with a silent plea. At that moment, nothing else mattered except the pulse of his heartbeat against yours, the press of his lips so tantalizingly close to your ear.

Rhysand guided you onto the dance floor, his hand resting possessively on the small of your back. The pulsating rhythm of the music enveloped you both as you began to sway to the beat.

Under the flickering candlelight, Rhysand's movements were fluid and graceful, each step perfectly timed to the melody. His free hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he drew you closer. Your bodies moved in harmony, a sensual, slow waltz that belied the intensity of the emotions simmering between you.

As you danced, Rhysand's eyes never left yours, drinking in every detail of your expression. He savoured the feel of your body pressed against him, the warmth of your skin, the subtle give of your body as you moved in tandem.

Your bodies moved in sync, a mesmerizing display of grace and sensuality under the shimmering lights of the grand ballroom. Every touch, every brush of skin against skin, was infused with a tender reverence, a palpable yearning that threatened to consume them both.

Rhysand's hands roamed over your curves with a delicate precision, as if tracing the contours of a precious work of art. Each caress sent ripples of pleasure through you, heightening your awareness of his closeness, the intoxicating aroma of his skin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

In this intimate space created solely by their entwined forms, the rest of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you suspended in a dreamlike state of connection.

"You're so beautiful when you let yourself lose control," Rhys whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Like a goddess dancing under starlight."

He spun you around, guiding you into a series of dizzying turns that left you breathless and giddy. In the whirlwind of movement, you clung to him, your cheek pressed against his chest, inhaling the addictive scent of his skin.

As the song slowed, Rhys pulled you close once more, his forehead resting against yours. "Happy birthday, Rhys," You murmured, your voice tender. "Though I'm not sure I'd call this the celebration I promised you... I suppose your father gets more of a priority over little ol' me in party planning."

His lips hovered inches from yours, tempting you with their proximity. You could almost taste the sweetness of his words, the promise of forbidden delights yet to come.

A low chuckle rumbled in Rhysand's chest at your words, vibrating against your cheek. "Little ol' you?" He teased, his fingers playing with a stray lock of your hair. "Hardly. You're the most important thing in this room, in my life."

He leaned back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "But don't worry about my father. Tonight is about us, y/n. I'm about you."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotion, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. In those deep, violet eyes, you saw a depth of feeling that took your breath away - a raw, vulnerable longing that mirrored the tumultuous storm within your own heart.

"You've given me far more joy than any grand celebration ever could," Rhys continued, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin beneath your bottom lip. "Just being near you, dancing with you... It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I never knew was missing."

Rhysand's confession hung between you, a fragile thread of vulnerability woven into the fabric of the night. In that moment, the pulsing music, the glittering chandeliers, even the expectant faces of the other guests faded into insignificance. There was only you, him, and the electric tension crackling between their entwined forms.

"Rhys, I-" You spoke, eyes misty, throat clogged, you didn't know what to say. Your voice caught on a hitch of emotion, unable to fully articulate the complex tangle of feelings swirling inside you. Rhysand's words had laid bare the depths of his affection, exposing the raw, beating heart beneath his enigmatic exterior.

He seemed to sense your turmoil, his own expression softening into a look of tender understanding. "It's okay, y/n," he reassured you, brushing a gentle kiss across your temple. "No words are needed. Just knowing you feel it too… That's enough."

Rhysand's lips trailed a path of fire along your jawline, pausing to nip lightly at your earlobe before whispering, "Let's get out of here. I want to celebrate my birthday properly, just the two of us."

Rhysand's words were a siren's call, beckoning you to abandon the crowded ballroom and its expectations for a more intimate, private celebration. The thought of escaping into the night with him, just the two of you, sent a thrill coursing through your veins.

"Yes," You breathed, your consent a whispered promise in the hush of the music. "Let's go."

Hand in hand, you slipped away from the festivities, Rhysand leading you through the winding corridors of the throne room. The sound of laughter and music faded behind you, replaced by the soft rustle of fabric and the quickened beat of your hearts as Rhysand summoned his wings, holding onto you as he flew you out.

Finally, you emerged onto the mountains overlooking the Court of Nightmares. The night air was cool from the snow that covered those tips.

"Would you like to go to the Moonstone palace or stay here, my darling?" Rhysand whispered, holding you close as the wind whipped through your hair, carrying the scent of winter and magic. The Moonstone palace gleamed in the distance, its ethereal beauty illuminated by the silvery glow of the full moon overhead.

"The Moonstone palace sounds enchanting," You replied, gazing up at Rhysand with adoring eyes. "I've never been..."

A soft smile curved Rhysand's lips as he nodded, his wings folding neatly against his back. "Very well, then. Let's make our way there."

Together, you soared through the star-studded sky, the wind whipping your hair into a wild tangle as Rhysand's powerful wings propelled you forward. The moon cast an ethereal glow over the landscape below, illuminating hidden valleys and ancient forests.

As you approached the moonstone palace, its radiant beauty took your breath away. Delicate spires and arches glinted like polished gemstones, casting cold colours across the surrounding terrain.

Upon landing on the palace steps, Rhysand turned to face you, his eyes smouldering with a hunger that had nothing to do with sustenance. He reached out, cupping your face in his palm, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone.

"My birthday wish has come true," Rhysand murmured, his voice low and velvety. "Being here with you, under this enchanted sky, makes everything else irrelevant."

"Well, I supose I will have to return the gift I got you..." You held your hands behind your back, hiding your face so he wouldn't see your blush.

Rhysand's eyes brightened. "You got me a gift? Oh, darling, you didn't have to..." He reached for you, holding onto your waist and pulling you in closer.

"Don't be silly, Rhys, it's your birthday." You giggled in his chest, "I... I don't have it right now, it's back in the cabin... I hid it there."

Rhysand hummed with a smile, resting his head on yours, "Mmm... Then I can't wait to get home, darling. For now..." Rhysand pulled away and spun you fast.

As the hours slipped by, Rhysand and you lost yourselves in the timeless rhythm of the night, moving together in perfect synchrony. The moonstone palace became a dreamscape, its ethereal beauty mirroring the enchanted atmosphere that surrounded you both.

Under the spell of each other's presence, you twirled and swayed, your bodies blending into one harmonious entity. Rhysand's strong arms cradled you close, his hands exploring the curves of your body as if committing every contour to memory.

The world outside receded further with each passing moment, until all that existed was the pulsing beat of the music, the soft brush of skin against skin, and the intense, all-consuming desire that burned between you.

In the heart of the moonstone palace, where shadows danced upon walls of living silver, you and Rhysand surrendered to the intoxicating embrace of the night. The music, a seductive melody woven from stardust and moonbeams, pulsed through your very being, igniting a fire that consumed all rational thought.

Lost in the depths of Rhysand's eyes, you saw reflections of your own desires, mirrored back at you in shades of darkest violet. His fingers traced patterns of possession upon your skin, branding you as his in a language only the heart could understand.

Time ceased to exist, measured only by the rising and falling of your chests, the synchronized thrum of your hearts. In this timeless realm, there were no boundaries, no limits to the passion that surged between you.

{General Taglist- @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo @mellowmusings @daughterofthemoons-stuff}

{Rhysand Taglist- @yeonalie}

[moxiepower2]

Nevermore theory based on RnF’s latest post!

I think the eyeball in the center is both a reference to both the Old Man with the pale blue eye from “The Tell-Tale” Heart AND Ligeia’s eyes from “Ligeia”

(1/3) First of all: Ligeia’s Eyes

The coloring of the eyes doesn’t quite fit with the art in the post (Ligeia’s has black eyes) BUT I find it hard to ignore the star and dream imagery used when it’s VERY present in “Ligeia”.

The narrator (the husband) studies astrology and is DEEPLY in love with the darkly beautiful and intelligent Ligeia. She is described almost like a vampire with long raven hair, ivory skin, and a wild appearance. He is especially fascinated by her unusual large black eyes which he compares to the “twin stars of Leda” and describes them as “luminous orbs” (this last part also reminds me of the “orbs” from the 1st episode btw).

Ligeia later dies of illness, telling the narrator of her deeply love and reciting a poem about the unfairness of mortality on her deathbed. In his grief, the narrator becomes addicted to opium and later remarries Lady Rowena whom he doesn’t love. He ignores her, preferring to find comfort in “opium dreams” during which he has vivid visions of Ligeia.

Two months into his new marriage Lady Rowena also falls ill and is rendered into a state of half-slumber. Rowena also often has fits and starts crying out in her sleep leading the narrator to believe that some “phantasmagoric influence” is haunting Rowena in their bedchamber.

The narrator’s sanity/accuracy is honestly questionable before the “haunting”. He has a bad memory and doesn’t even remember MEETING LIGEIA OR HER LAST NAME?? The narration given is honestly pretty dreamlike itself as it’s hard tell what’s real or not between the husband’s opium addiction, bad memory, and debatable sanity.

At the end of the story, Lady Rowena dies and according to the narrator, her dead body turns into Ligeia. The corpse awakens the next day as newly risen and alive Ligeia who has seemingly defeated death.

“Here then, at least," I shrieked aloud, "can I never --can I never be mistaken --these are the full, and the black, and the wild eyes --of my lost love --of the lady --of the LADY LIGEIA."

(What a very sane human being as per usual in Pow stories. Also, this went on a bit long sorry)

(2/3) The Old Man

Hang in there with me, this part is much much quicker to explain!

So, Tell-Tale Heart. I think this is a Poe story everyone pretty much knows. Guy is seemingly driven to madness out of fear of his old neighbor’s pale blue eye. He secretly watches the Old Man while he’s sleeping and later murders him and stuffs the body parts under his floor. When the police later arrive at the house, our narrator believes he hears the sounds of the Old Man’s heart and confessed his guilt.

Some imagery: Not much star imagery but definitely some of dreams/sleep. Much like Ligeia, the narration is definitely dreamlike. The Narrator is unreliable/insane so it’s hard to tell what observations he makes are actually real. The Old Man and the Narrator struggle with nightmares. A good chunk of this story is spent with narrator as he watches the Old Man sleep every night for a week.

Also, the eye in RnF’s post is a SINGLE PALE BLUE EYE. (Yeah, this last one is definitely surface-level evidence but I don’t think it’s without merit)

That’s pretty much it.

(3/3) How does this all connect?

The main reason I think that this new art piece connects to Ligeia AND The Tell-Tale heart is largely due to THESE GUYS

That’s right, Deans Merry and Mourn.

The Tell-Tale Heart

Awhile back I made a post theorizing that Annabel is connected to The Tell-Tale Heart due to the heart imagery surrounding her character (such as her spectre design). In the reblogs, me and @muzetrigger discussed more detailed theories (off-topic but @muzetrigger made a VERY convincing argument that Annabel Lee might play the role of the Narrator)

One of the topics that came up was the possibility of the Deans representing the character of the Old Man. @blacknedsoul-blog made a post a while back “I Think the Deans Are Fucking Lovecraftian Gods” (highly recommend) which pointed out that the Deans’ white/black heterochromia could be a reference to the Old Man’s cataract-ridden eye. Upon a closer look, it’s even possible that their white eyes are actually a very very pale blue.

I would also like to add on to this theory by pointing out that much like the Old Man’s Eye drove the Narrator to murder and madness (though unwittingly), the Deans are driving the students to those very same things by forcing a bunch of already traumatized people to participate in a death game.

Ligeia

Earlier in this post, I mentioned that the husband from Ligeia compared her eyes to “the twin stars of Leda”

These TWIN stars, Castor and Pollux named after a pair of TWINS from greek mythology are widely known as the “Heavenly TWINS” and form part of the constellation Gemini. Hmmmm….

A few more similarities to Ligeia:

The Deans also have the ability to get in people’s heads and MESS WITH THEIR MEMORIES. In Ligeia, the Husband is completely consumed with thoughts/visions of Ligeia for most of his waking and sleeping hours. He is seemingly unable to focus on anything else and this continues even when his new wife Lady Rowena is dying. As mentioned before, the Husband also has a memory problems and can’t remember meeting Ligeia or even her full name, just that he loved her. This is not unlike the memory loss of all the students at Nevermore Academy, particularly Lenore & Annabel Lee.

By the way, have a mentioned how interesting this panel from the Bell Arc is? It’s very suspicious the we glimpses of the eldritch forms of the Deans and their Pale Blue Eyes right before Annabel Lee experiences a flashback of hearing the news of Lenore’s death. Not to mention they are physically lowering Annabel INTO THE MEMORY. Its almost like the Deans are the ones took the memories in first place and are just “returning” them or part of their job is being responsible for guiding students to their memories. HMMMM……

Not to mention they spend most of their time in DREAMLAND, a special dimension where you can relive past memories and even reach those whom you unable to speak with. Like say… a certain French man who’s UNCONSCIOUS in a brick wall.

Also, I seem to recall there’s definitely some night sky related imagery with these two. Especially when we are getting glimpses of their spectrey/eldritchy side.

Lastly, let’s go back to the Deans’s heterochromia. They both each have one BLACK EYE and together that makes a pair.

Also, I might be reading into this WAY too much but, take a good close look at the black eyes. In each, you’ll notice there’s a small white pupil. Kind of like a a single bright star in the black night sky. Two twin stars.

[sosa2imagines]

Broken Hearts. Part 7

Warnings- Slight smut, fluff, revelations, planning.

The setting of the room was enveloped in a soft, intimate glow, its corners bathed in gentle candlelight. Lloyd's touch on your body stirred a heady mix of desire and tenderness. His kisses slow and lingering, sent tremors of pleasure through you. The air around you was heavy with passion, as you lost yourself in the ecstasy of the moment.

Time seemed to stand still, each movement and touch creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed through your being. It was as if you were caught in a dream, where reality blurred and all that mattered was the intense connection between you and Lloyd.

“Lloyd” you moan against his lips, your body shudders through your orgasm and you hold tight onto him… “Please.” “I know” he kisses you deeply “Sugar, just give me one more”

Just as you were about to reach the peak of ecstasy, a jarring ringing echoed through the room, jolting you back to reality. Your eyes snapped open, the dreamlike state shattered by the harsh sound of your alarm.

You groaned in frustration, the interruption leaving you on the edge of both physical and emotional release. The intensity of your dream lingered, leaving you craving for the sensations that had been so vividly experienced just moments before.

After kissing Lloyd last night before things go further, the persistent ringing of Lloyd's phone shattered the moment. Again, and another, his attempts to ignore it grew futile, and your irritation rose as the interruption continued.

Finally, at the sixth call, you got annoyed and it spoiled the mood for you both. So, you went to bed alone, and he went to attend business, which is why you ended up having a wet dream.

You were in the kitchen, searching for any sign of Lloyd, when a soft, warm voice called out from behind you. “Sugar.” Startled, you turned around to find Lloyd smiling at you, holding a tray laden with breakfast.

Fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, freshly toasted bread, and a steaming cup of coffee. “I thought you might be hungry,” he said, a hint of affection in his eyes.

He placed the tray on the kitchen counter, gesturing toward a chair. “Sit.” he commanded gently, his tone a mixture of care and affection. You took a seat, still slightly surprised by the unexpected breakfast spread before you.

As you looked up at him, he poured a cup of coffee and handed it to you with a smile. “Bon Appétit,” he murmured, watching as you took a sip, the rich aroma awakening your senses.

As you sat there, enjoying the breakfast that Lloyd had graciously prepared, a stark contrast between him and Steve settled in your mind. Steve had never bothered to do anything like this, not even a small gesture to show that he cared.

With Lloyd, however, the simple act of making breakfast and brewing coffee held an immense weight. It was a testament to his attentiveness, care, and affection for you.

As you savored a forkful of scrambled eggs, you looked up at Lloyd, gratitude and a hint of affection in your eyes. “Thank you for this. Nobody's ever made me breakfast before,” you admitted with a soft smile.

He chuckled softly, the corners of his lips curling up into a warm grin. “Well, you deserve it, Sugar.” he said, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally.

The two of you continued to chat, the conversation flowing effortlessly, filled with light-hearted banter and shared laughter.

After finishing breakfast and getting ready, you and Lloyd headed towards his office. The walk was filled with comfortable silence, occasionally punctuated by light-hearted conversation.

Upon arriving, you noticed Nick and Jake already waiting outside. Lloyd gave them a nod as you approached, and they returned the greeting.

“Everything alright?” Nick inquired, his gaze flickering between you and Lloyd. Lloyd nodded, his hand gently resting on the small of your back as he ushered you into the office.

The office was bathed in soft artificial light, and the familiar surroundings brought a sense of comfort.

Lloyd took his seat behind his desk, gesturing for you to take a seat on the chair across from him. Nick and Jake leaned against the wall, their watchful gazes fixed on the two of you. Lloyd began, “Alright, let's get down to business.” His tone was serious, but there was a hint of determination in his eyes.

Ari's voice interrupted the silence, his words breaking the tension in the room. “We have good news and bad news...” he said, his expression holding a mixture of hope and concern. You and Lloyd listened intently, waiting for further explanation.

Andy spoke up, a small smile playing on his lips. “The good news is that, Steve signed the papers.” A wave of relief washed over you, the knowledge that your plan had worked easing some of your tension. “He realized he didn't have any other choice since we managed to capture his confession on our hidden camera.” Ari added, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Jake chipped in, his tone serious. “We located the video... but there's some bad news.” You tensed up, and Lloyd furrowed his brow in concern. “Steve doesn't have any copies,” Jake continued, “but we can't be certain if James Barnes has another copy.”

The room fell silent as the implications of this revelation sunk in.

Nick's voice broke the stillness, his words carrying a hint of unease. “That's not all,” he added, his expression troubled. “We still don't know the extent of James Barnes involvement in all of this.” The room grew even quieter as the weight of Nick's statement settled on everyone present.

Lloyd leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming absently on the desk. “We'll need to get to the bottom of this,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He turned his gaze towards you, his eyes filled with determination. “We won't rest until we know the truth,” he reassured you, his words laced with resolution.

Ari, his expression grave, added further revelations. “But that's not all,” he said, pausing, “Jake went through Steve's call records, and it seems Steve has been video calling James Barnes... a lot. In fact, this started even before you got married.”

Your heart sank, the extent of Steve's deception slowly unfolding before you.

Lloyd's grip on his pen tightened, anger evident in his eyes as he absorbed the information. He glanced over at you, concerned for your well-being. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in.

Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, the realization of the situation settling heavily on your chest. “He... he must be missing him or something?” you said, the words catching in your throat. “I never saw him video call James...” There was a hint of disbelief in your tone, as if you were trying to rationalize Steve's actions, although a part of you knew it was far from innocent.

The room fell silent for a moment, the reality of your words hanging in the air.

Lloyd could see the pain and hurt etched on your face, and he longed to be able to soothe your worries. He reached out and placed his hand over yours, offering silent support.

Lloyd's voice echoed through the room, laced with determination and anger. “That's enough,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “To hell with them. We'll show them what we can do.” A steely resolve filled his eyes, and he fixed his gaze on the others, a silent agreement passing between them.

You were about to speak, but Lloyd's voice cut through, his words taking you by surprise. “No buts, Sugar,” he said firmly. “I've booked a spa appointment for you, complete with a manicure and pedicure shit. You're going to relax and pamper yourself for a while.” His tone left no room for argument, and you could see the stubbornness in his eyes.

The others smiled, clearly amused by Lloyd's bossy display. Nick chuckled softly. “Looks like Mr. Bossy is in charge now,” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Lloyd shot Nick a glare, although his eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. “Shut it, Nick!” he retorted, though his tone lacked any real annoyance. He then turned his gaze back to you, his expression softening. “Go get ready, Sugar. We'll handle things here.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Lloyd's glare stopped you in your tracks. His eyes held a look of determination and stubbornness, leaving no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, you closed your mouth, knowing that arguing would be futile.

“Fine,” you muttered quietly, relenting to his bossy demeanor.

As you sat in the cozy and peaceful ambience of the spa, surrounded by the soothing scents and soothing atmosphere, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude towards Lloyd.

His insistence on taking you to the spa had initially annoyed you, but now, enveloped in the calmness of the place, you realized he had been right. The soothing music and the gentle touch of the spa therapist working on your hands and feet left you blissfully relaxed. Perhaps Lloyd knew you better than you gave him credit for.

As you exited the spa, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, you spotted Lloyd leaning against his car, a smile on his face. He pushed off the car and approached you, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. “How was it, Sugar?” he inquired.

You returned his smile, grateful for his insistence on this self-care session. “It was great,” you admitted, feeling the tension that had been weighing on you seem to melt away. “Just what I needed, thanks to you.”

Lloyd chuckled softly, pleased that he had made the right call. “I knew it was perfect for you,” he said, opening the passenger door for you. “Now get in. We are going to party, just us four.”

“What about Ari?” You could sense Lloyd getting jealous with the mention of Ari, “He is busy with something!” Lloyd tells in a cold voice, making you giggle.

As you were about to enter the car, something caught your eye, freezing you in your tracks. A sense of unease washed over you, and Lloyd immediately noticed your reaction. “What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched on his face as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

You shifted slightly to get a better look, and anger flared within you as you laid eyes on the person in question. “That fucker!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with a mix of hatred and frustration. Lloyd's grip on your hand tightened, sensing your distress. “Who is it?” he asked, his own body tensing up.

Your voice was filled with a mix of anger and distress. “It's Bucky Barnes,” you muttered, your eyes darting around nervously, trying to pinpoint his location. “I swear I saw him.”

Lloyd quickly followed your gaze, searching for any sign of Bucky, but came up empty-handed. “I don't see him anywhere,” he said, his brow furrowed in concern.

Truth is Lloyd had spot Bucky, but kept his cool, knowing that telling you the truth wouldn't do any good. “Let's go, sugar,” he urged, guiding you gently towards the car.

You scanned the area once more, hoping to catch another glimpse, but ultimately resigned yourself to the fact that you may have imagined it.

As you entered the car, still feeling on-edge, Lloyd stole one last glance in the direction where he last saw Bucky, his expression tense, quickly texting someone.

Part 6- Part 8

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan @emerald-writes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@whore-for-chris-evans @caplanreblogsfics

[pinetreegoblin]

I have a silly and indulgent Very Important People fan theory:

Very Important People!Vic Michaelis is extremely insecure and lonely as shown by their dialogue throughout many of the currently released episodes. They seem down on their luck and frustrated by their lot in life especially in their career and their personal connections. They seem like the perfect character to go through a classic “self growth through a journey of meeting crazy characters” plot. 

Each of the characters seem like out of this world caricatures of people they could meet out in the world, and some (like Denzel and Vic’s Grandma), seem like representations of those in her actual life (I also have a fun theory that the dolls were her childhood dolls). Many of the characters themselves point out that Vic seems to be down on their luck and unhappy, and in some way preventing themselves from happiness. Off the top of my head, Vic has referred to their father being murdered, a divorce from their husband, and struggling to get a “real reporting career.” 

If I had to construct a story of how they got to this point I would say the death of their father pushed VIP!Vic into grief induced isolation and loneliness, which inhibited their personal connections as they were stuck in survival mode. The murder of their father inspired them to become a reporter, as an attempt to help other victims of violent crime, but they are struggling to find a foothold. Their unbridled grief and obsession with retribution for their father has put a strain on their marriage and their partner asks for a divorce. Maybe in their exasperation and the chaos of life they are spurred to follow a lead they have no business or jurisdiction to follow and they end up injured. It is in this injury they are experiencing this hallucinogenic state.

The VIP set itself feels very cultivated and its “old-fashioned” eclectic style gives it a vibe of a surreal manufactured reality. Each episode starts with Vic idly messing with some aspect of the set, before realizing the camera is on and putting on the reporter mask. In my memory, none of the people “on set” ever say anything, besides Vic and the interviewee, even when Vic audibly asks them questions. Additionally the cutting off to infomercials gives an uncanny feeling of parody, someone concocting the stereotypical formula of a show. Finally, there are the moments where there is an abrupt cut to a transition card from a more intense scene, almost to redirect the emotional plot. Overall, it has given me a kinda WandaVision vibe of a dreamlike state manufactured in VIP!Vics head in order to address their loneliness and disillusionment with life.

The closing question especially points towards this specific idea of VIP!Vic being stuck in this fugue state looking for answers: “What is the meaning of life?” This is both impactful if we go with the idea she is injured and experiencing this all in an unconscious state (almost "deciding" whether to wake up) as well as just in them searching for the next direction to go in their frozen life. What is the meaning of life amidst grief, loneliness, fear, and unfair circumstances? How can Vic find meaning? In creating this dreamlike fabrication, VIP!Vic is trying to recover and find a version of themselves who can live a more fulfilling life as they let go of the past which has held them back. “Remember to always be yourself, unless you'd rather be somone else” 

TLDR: Vic Michalis is having some sort of surreal, unconscious dream where crazy characters are attempting to help them heal from their father's death, their fucked up social situations, and to find meaning and happiness in their life. Through the interviewees eccentricities they teach Vic their personal meanings of life so Vic can find their own.

(This is all just to be silly, I know a lot of it is just stylistic choices of the show and the nature of the type of show it is, but I just love the show a lot and this little theory came to me)

[k00319146]

RACHEL WHITEREAD: ARTIST RESEARCH AND DALI:

As I explore movement in my stair project through ceramics, I find Rachel Whiteread’s approach to space and absence particularly inspiring. Her casts of negative space turn emptiness into something solid, freezing a moment in time. I want to take that idea and translate it into my own work, but rather than stopping movement entirely, I’m interested in capturing its traces—how stairs shape the way we move and how movement, in turn, leaves its mark on them.

One way I could do this is by working with casting. Instead of creating a traditional staircase, I could cast the negative space beneath steps or the air between them, making the invisible structure of movement tangible. I’m also drawn to the idea of impressions—pressing textures into the clay to suggest the way stairs wear down over time, collecting footprints, scuffs, and history.

Beyond form, glaze could play a role in representing movement. A dripping or directional glaze might mimic the way people flow up and down stairs or how time and weather shape surfaces. I’m also considering breaking or layering ceramic pieces to reflect the passage of time—maybe a fragmented staircase that looks like it’s mid-collapse, suggesting both presence and absence.

Whiteread’s work has made me think differently about movement. It doesn’t always have to be shown directly; sometimes, what’s left behind is just as powerful. I want my ceramic pieces to capture that balance—between stillness and motion, structure and decay, presence and loss.

Salvador Dalí’s approach to movement, particularly in how he distorts time and space, feels relevant to my project. His paintings often depict fluid, almost melting forms—like in The Persistence of Memory (1931), where clocks appear to droop and dissolve, challenging the idea of stability. This idea of transformation and surreal movement connects with how I see my cardboard sculpture—not as something entirely static, but as a structure that carries the potential for change, distortion, or even collapse.

Dalí also worked a lot with optical illusions and exaggerated perspectives, which makes me think about how movement can be suggested rather than physically present. His piece Swans Reflecting Elephants (1937), for example, plays with perception in a way that makes stillness feel unstable. That kind of shifting viewpoint reminds me that movement isn’t always about literal motion—it can be something the viewer senses or anticipates, like the way my sculpture might suggest balance, instability, or transformation.

DALI

I also think about how Dalí embraced dreamlike logic, where objects take on unexpected qualities. In my project, I’m working with cardboard—something rigid and ordinary—but I’m exploring how it can take on new, unexpected forms, almost like it’s caught between states of being. Dalí’s way of dissolving boundaries between solid and fluid, real and surreal, makes me consider how movement can exist in a more conceptual or implied way in my work.

Dalí also worked a lot with optical illusions and exaggerated perspectives, which makes me think about how movement can be suggested rather than physically present. His piece Swans Reflecting Elephants (1937), for example, plays with perception in a way that makes stillness feel unstable. That kind of shifting viewpoint reminds me that movement isn’t always about literal motion—it can be something the viewer senses or anticipates, like the way my sculpture might suggest balance, instability, or transformation.

[rachthepoet]

She Analysis

Who wouldn't love an eloquently layered painting done in words and song? Melodic in its exploration of longing and fantasy, from which many stories can stem and take their shape. Its beauty lies in its ambiguity, allowing various interpretations to foster and fester. And darling, do I have interpretations in the bucketful.

Coexistence in the introspective and in the narrative. Sensual and voluptuous, but just as strongly melancholic in moments, we're dropped in the protagonist's mind, enveloped so entrancingly in the same dreamlike state. Caught weary-eyed in a poignant state of human desire, aching for something more, with the intensity transcending the ordinary.

Here's a (ridiculously) deep dive into Harry Styles' She, from a poet.

Temptatious Trio of Theories

I will never be anything but upfront and honest with you during these analyses — I might've gone a little overboard, and this is set to be a bit of a doozy of an analysis. But, on the other hand, people seem to like it when I go full geek with no restrictions or reservations. So, I think I'm going to embrace the tempestuous nature of mind bopping between the three. Yeah, three. I have three total interpretations of this song, and will be mentioning each within the context of every set of things. And I will be numbering them, for the sake of your organization and maybe bit for mine as well. But, first, let me summarize and preview.

Important points that'll extend across all three: (i) The utilization of the different perspectives is both important and intentional; (ii) The atmospheric allure in the production is as essential as the lyricism; (iii) The "She" character has a great emotional hold over the "Man".

── ࣪⋇ ──

INTERPRETATION 1/3: The Soulmate.

This lightbulb came from the hopeless romantic rooted inside, I bet my bottom dollar. This calls back to the split soul theory and/or soulmate theory, which, simplistically, carries the idea that everybody has a person out there who completes or fulfills them. A perfect complement. In discussions of said theory, a quote from Plato's Symposium is often brought to the table — which, in the same discussions, I see many people who don't even know it wasn't said by Plato. Rather, by the playwright Aristophanes:

"Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a 'matching half' of a human whole … and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him." — Plato's Symposium

There's this dream of a soulmate, one that he's conjured up in his head, a person that can never live up to the reality of where he's at on the (mundane) daily and can never live up to expectations. So, one looks forward to the night, as their head hits the pillow, and they can drift off into their dreams to meet with their soulmate as they fade into sleep. Extended, we can delve into the encompassing of as one's mind roams, oh the things they must see in the in-between. And these things are what I think this song chronicles, showing the contrast between the awake vs. asleep, and the constant lull the Man feels to escape into his dream world with She.

And the song itself feels so dreamlike to me, in a way the listener can shut their eyes and sail away so effortlessly, which could purposefully mirror these phenomena. The pull to reunite with the one he feels connected to, a soulmate. And, think about it. Songwriting (writing in general, really) is a love language. Simultaneously, it can be a tool to say things you can never say to someone in person (for she's only in his dreams, a woman who lives in his head) in hopes that wherever She is (on whatever plane), She will sense it's a message for her.

Given, there are many different kinds of soulmates, which in itself could lead to more interpretations & conversations. But, let's reign it in a bit. In regard to She, I think the "Man" and "She" are either divine love soulmates (structured in only the romantic view), past life soulmates (can exist in platonic or romantic view), or twin flames (which can lead into the 3rd interpretation).

DIVINE LOVE SOULMATES: Or, romantic soulmates, the kind that comes to mind when hearing the word. There's this capacity within divine love soulmates to bring one another to physical and emotional pleasure heights, either as a brief flame or one that burns continuously. The one's aura attracts the other, and there's a pull, an enigmatic fantastic, to draw the other to the one. They can help one discover a lot about how they express and receive love, the patterns in all their relationships' dynamics, and even one's own romantic tendencies, both positive and negative.

PAST LIFE SOULMATES: There's an undeniable familiarity, and such a strong emotional and energetic connection. One's subconscious is activate strongly by the other, and this often manifests in powerful dreams, varying from the venereal to nonsexual. The two maybe aren't meant for each other in this lifetime, and the same tendencies that defined the dynamic in past reincarnations can stick and travel on with the pairing.

TWIN FLAMES: A twin flame is said to be a mirror, reflecting parts of the other that they love, but also parts of the other that they cower away from. Twin flames share a singular soul, and share idiosyncrasies, and the pull towards each other will be grand, presenting in both romantic and platonic. It's as if they're ingrained within your energy, and there's always a desire to be closer if possible. While the other two can have multiple, there's only one twin flame for every person.

(Points relating to this interpretation will be marked accordingly with a [¹] after the sentence. Sometimes in conjuncture with others.)

── ࣪⋇ ──

INTERPRETATION 2/3: Yearning for What's Been Lost.

Of the three, this one will come across as the most unconventional. I take some joy in that, full transparency. This interpretation focuses on the third-person perspective usage, heavily. I believe Sign of the Times and She are sister songs — hear me out — in how both speak of grand stories and narratives beyond the writer himself, who then proceeds to function as the communicator of said grandiose. In both pieces, there's an embodiment of character, as the writer embraces his protagonist's perspective. The song, I believe, chronicles a man mourning the love of his life after she's died. They were young when they were ripped apart in tragedy, and She takes place many years later — illustrating the inability to move on and the coping mechanisms of The Man, who's stuck in his cycle of reminiscence. Which is often manifested through his dreams.

"The brain devotes lots of effort to mapping where our loved ones are while they are alive, so that we can find them when we need them. And the brain often prefers habits and predictions over new information. But it struggles to learn new information that cannot be ignored, like the absence of our loved one. [...] Grief is a heart-wrenchingly painful problem for the brain to solve, and grieving necessitates learning to live in the world with the absence of someone you love deeply, who is ingrained in your understanding of the world. This means that for the brain, your loved one is simultaneously gone and also everlasting, and you are walking through two worlds at the same time. You are navigating your life despite the fact that they have been stolen from you, a premise that makes no sense, and that is both confusing and upsetting." — Mary-Frances O’Connor, The Grieving Brain: The Surprising Science of How We Learn from Love and Loss

Bereavement dreams are one of the many types of dreams that have been studied and explored, often coming to the conclusion that a strong bond is maintained as the survivor still sorts through ongoing feelings of longing after the loss. It's something that feels so senseless to the heart and the mind, so the brain tries to make sense of it, even as someone falls asleep. They can be conjured in different forms, such as dreams where they're still living [as if their death was a "joke" or "mistake"] or reunion dreams [reflection of the deceased's longing presence in the survivor's subconscious] — which are the two I believe are explored here.

While many people have picked up on the entrancing sensuality of the song, the same many limit their listening there. But, to my ears, I always picked up on something a bit extra. An air of melancholy amidst the feeling of attraction. Maybe, even intentionally, mirroring The Man's inner conflict as he still struggles to process the grief of losing the love of his life, so he opts to daydream about her instead, imagining she's still with him, even years after the incident.

(Points relating to this interpretation will be marked accordingly with a [²] after the sentence. Sometimes in conjuncture with others.)

── ࣪⋇ ──

INTERPRETATION 3/3: Dancing Between Masculine and Feminine.

The third, and finally final, interpretation of mine is the one you most likely have encountered before. It's the most popular theorization, and, truly, who am I to argue? I'll be leaning on points others have made while also throwing in my own... je ne sais quoi? The verses are sung from the "He" perspective, outlining The Man's habitual, quotidian activities, painting a colorless and monotonous picture draped in routine. The chorus, however, contrasts. As the perspective flips, She is revealed, as well as The Man's harbored desires to explore his concealed feminine identity. However, some hesitation to fully let She come out remains. Therefore, The Man builds up a masculine façade, nearly impenetrable, all while She remains in his subconscious and The Man runs to visit this aspect of himself in daydreams and moments alone.

"Waits at the window / Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door / Who is it for?" — The Beatles' Eleanor Rigby

For some reason, and for some time, I've felt reminded of The Beatles' Eleanor Rigby, in the lens of the spiritlessness of life when one's unfulfilled in oneself by not being authentic. Encompassing living life for other people until one can accept all aspects of themselves. Especially the one lyric highlighted above, which I felt could be a summary for this interpretation. The façade built up by The Man is his own interpretation of "the face in a jar by the door", still followed by the same question The Beatles poise. Who is it for? Because it's not for The Man, and it's not for She, but for the fear of those who might shift their perceptions, from friends to strangers.

I found this waltz (maybe it's also a tango?) between the masculine and feminine is most understandable when you dissect the song quite a bit. As I mentioned before, in much more detail, He is present in the verses while She is present in the chorus. But, additionally, She lingers in the instrumental until She pushes herself to the forefront as the music explodes during the guitar solo increment. And, the lyrics hold an ambiguity, much like The Man himself does deep down, and within the conflict is the switching perspectives.

The Man fantasizes about dropping everything in his life, all at once, without notifying a singular soul, and living for She that exists within him. And The Man cannot let She go, as She is wherever The Man goes. This business-based life does nothing for him, for it's all just pretend in his retrospect. What's real is She. In his daydreams, he would sail away from it all, as everything feels so fake to him, for it's not his own, as he's not living authentically. And the song chronicles the inner conflict of this.

(Points relating to this interpretation will be marked accordingly with a [³] after the sentence. Sometimes in conjuncture with others.)

Could any and all of these theories be incorrect? Of course, darling, but that gamble is part of the fun of this whole analysis thing. Don't you think? There's one more thing I want to discuss, and then we'll get it on with lyric-by-lyric details. And that's the placement in the intentionally structured songlist of the sophomore album.

This stems from a larger theory, that the album Fine Line is a chronicle of the stages of grief [Which could be another post shared if any are intrigued!]. The album itself is separated into four sides when you study the vinyl, and She is at the end of the second side, therefore a transitional song. Here, She guides the listener from Side B, the side of despair and regret, to the sunnier Side C, the side of reminiscence. And both of these themes are included seamlessly in the song, creating a perfect flow from one to the other.

Regarding The Soulmate Theory, the despair is in not being able to find this person he keeps seeing in his dreams, and the reminiscence is his feeling of already knowing them, even if they've never met. Regarding The Yearning for What's Been Lost Theory, the despair is in the loss of the love of his life, and the reminiscence is in the dreams themselves, where he can't let go of her. Finally, regarding The Dancing Between Masculine and Feminine Theory, the despair is in The Man being stuck in the facade he's made, and the reminiscence is found in the dynamic of his inner She itself.

This long, psychedelic song has an intimacy about it, this sense of introspection, but also this underlying feeling of nostalgia, like the listener has been here a few times before the first listen. This song utilizes tools of escapism, daydreaming, and memories, which leads straight into the core theme of reminiscence to come.

Phew. Ok, shall we get on with it then?

Lyric Pull-Apart

[VERSE 1] Nine in the morning, The Man drops his kids off at school And he's thinking of you, like all of us do

Nine in the morning, THE MAN drops his kids off at school: Third-person perspective (core POV). Early on in the song, we have established both a character (The Man/He) and, simultaneously, his routine. A specific time is noted, emphasizing the idea of routine and pushing forward a feeling of mundanity and monotony [1,2,3]. The Man remains undescriptive, which is important to remember, as it's used in contrast later [1,2,3]. The core perspective is third person, and the speaker establishes a detachment from the characters [2,3], whether through a distance from the narrative itself [2] or a present conflict they're still grappling with within [3].

And he's thinking of YOU, like all of us do: Second-person perspective (POV shift). During the mundanity of The Man's daily routines, he finds his mind drifting off to this person of mystery — who we will later come to recognize by the name She — that must have a significant hold over and meaning to him [1,2,3]. She is inevitably a part of He, a duality [1,2,3]. With the inclusion of the words like all of us do, there's more nuance added. Note: this is the only time in the song where we see the She character addressed with a second-person perspective, and the word you.

Could he be thinking of this person, like everyone does, in the context of wondering where his person might be like everyone else wonders if they'll meet the one? [1] Could he be thinking of this woman, like everyone does, in the context of feeling the emptiness left by her absence, as many do, for she becomes well-loved? [2] Could he be thinking of this woman, like everyone does, in the more abstract context of She being an embodiment of his own true self and identity, while the Us are bystanders that could act as judges? Or maybe Us could be multiple personas of The Man himself? [3]

[VERSE 1] Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon Around 1:32, like he knows what to do

Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon: Third-person perspective (return to core POV). We return back to the painting of the mundane monotony of The Man's routine, the specificity of the time once more, now in the middle of the afternoon [1,2,3]. The Man is going through the motions of what has become his normal, but there's an undertone of hollowness like something is wrong and missing from himself [2,3].

Around 1:32, like he knows what to do: Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). This is very Bukowski, adding numerical specificities to create a feeling of verisimilitude — the appearance of being true and real — which mirrors exactly what The Man attempts to do, even with the monotonous routines [1,2,3]. This repetition of specifics in the mundane is intriguing to me, as it makes me think about the times when one finds such boredom in the same cycles that they go searching, desperately, for any new detail. Such as The Man staring at his clock, watching the minutes tick on by, trying and falling flat of the appearance of nonchalance [1,2,3].

[CHORUS 1] She (She!), She lives in daydreams with me (She!) She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why I don't know who She is (She! She!)

SHE (She!), SHE lives in daydreams with me (She!): First-person perspective (POV shift). Arriving at the chorus, the perspective has switched, moving from the third person to the first. The Man, now speaking through the singer — who either embodies the character in storytelling [1,2] or The Man is where he sees himself or someone he knows [3] — admits that this divine feminine character has and only can live in his dreams/daydreams. In his mind [1,2,3].

She lives with The Man in these daydreams that drag him away from monotony [1,2,3] with an undercut of familiarity [2,3] and intimacy [1], for a part of him must still live with She [2,3]. In his subconscious, they're together, and everything is vibrant and alive to The Man in his dreams/daydreams — whereas, in his day-to-day life, he doesn't feel that same passion and thirst for life when disconnected from She [1,2,3].

There are a few more in-depth takeaways that could be made regarding this. Such as, this She character is no longer present in The Man's life physically, only existing as a ghostly figment of what he can remember of her as time grows [2]. Such as, the She character embodying the other side of The Man's duality, as She represents what he could become — but, alas, this feminine remains inside the masculine in hushed daydreaming [3]. Such as, She is the symbol of The Man's own romanticism and grandiose expectations, therefore still something unknown to him in perfect form [1]. Overall, the key word here is with.

SHE's the first one that I see, and I don't know why: First-person perspective (stick to POV shift). She holds prominence in The Man's life, so much that there's not a single moment that she's not present in the front of his mind. Right behind his eyes. The first one to be seen when he wakes, the first one to be seen when he tries to sleep [1,2], the first one to be seen in the mirror before the vision clears back to the mundane status quo [3] that was set up in the introductory verse.

And I don't know why brings in doubt and confusion from The Man. He doesn't understand why She is always present in his daydreams or why he sees She before anything else — but feels such a strong connection to her [1]. The Man doesn't know why he holds on so tightly to this preoccupation when there's an emptiness where She should be standing with him, with moments of fear for unfamiliarity and apprehensiveness for change [2]. He doesn't know why She keeps coming into his daydreams and visions, for maybe there's not even a sense of sensual attraction or romantic infatuation, but more sitting with a reflection of oneself — that brings about confusion [3].

I don't know who SHE is (She! She!): First-person perspective (stick to POV shift). A shrouded mystery is She to The Man, but She still holds enough power to be in his thoughts during the day, the star of his daydreams, to become such a priority that The Man sees She before seeing himself, even in this facade he spent so much time building up — an enigma powerful enough to stick with him [1,3]. In this line, there's frustration in his voice, like he's calling out hoping someone can offer an explanation — Where is She coming from? Who the hell is She? [1,3] And, as mentioned before, there's this apprehension in the face of change, and this unfamiliarity with She [1,3], maybe in contrast to what he thought he knew about her in his own limit of understanding [1,2,3].

[VERSE 2] He takes a boat out, imagines just sailing away (Away, away) And not telling his mates (Not telling his mates) He wouldn't know what to say (Wouldn't know what to say, to say)

HE takes a boat out, imagines just sailing away (Away, away): Third-person perspective (return to core POV). The Man has a craving for freedom, for a getaway from this mundane he's trapped in, in which all he wants is to be with his She [1,2,3]. For the monotonous has lost its appeal, and it no longer feels real or substantial, no matter how hard he tries to make it feel so (back to the first verse -> verisimilitude). Sailing in a boat, to me, equates to exploration — which only makes it more open to interpretation. Exploring a deeper level of consciousness and a new beginning in desperation to become more connected with She [1,3]. Within this new beginning to be sailed is, maybe, an exploration of the self, all stirred by the ever-presence of She [3]. Escaping his life and leaving it all behind grows more and more appealing to The Man, as his fascination with She grows at the same rate — maybe even more exponentially.

And not telling his mates (Not telling his mates): Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). This ties in with the line preceding it. The Man craves to disappear without a trace, for anything would be better than his boring, pretend life he lives without She [1,2,3]. He wants to set off alone, and disappear from all those he knows, in an attempt to find his She that he keeps getting pulled towards [1]. He wants to leave life to join She — maybe in death, even? — feeling alone in despair and desperation of the constant search, that he can't bring himself to tell his friends of [2]. The Man aches to discover more about the She who lives with him, but keeping it all to himself, still apprehensive of judgment, even from his closest mates [3]. This line, and even the second verse itself, embodies an essence of escapism, as a coping mechanism and a way to find solace.

HE wouldn't know what to say (Wouldn't know what to say, to say): Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). A good ole Harry Styles classic, I have to say it — struggle with communication. As The Man worries that he can't make someone else understand his relationship She — once more, an apprehension of judgment [1,2,3]. How does The Man begin to explain daydreams of a woman he doesn't know, and this She has made him realize his whole life is hollow? [1,3] Empty without her presence? [1,2,3]

[CHORUS 2 (ADD-ON)] She (She!), She lives in daydreams with me (She!) She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why I don't know who She is (She!) She (She!), She's the first one that I see (She!) She lives in daydreams with me, and I don't know why I don't know where She is (She! She!)

The beginning of the second chorus is the same as the first but then shifts into an add-on with I don't know where she is instead of the previous who, which indicates some progression in the story told. The Man has (1) figured out who She is and (2) aches to find her even more now. He longs for She's presence outside his daydreams [1,2,3], and wants her existence to be known [1,3].

I don't know where SHE is (She! She!): First-person perspective (POV shift). Further explained, remember that The Man has been stuck in the mundane. Maybe it's the world of the living, as he stays running after his She, but loses touch with his remembrance of her [2]. This drive inside The Man is instilled by She, as discussed previously, and this additional line cushions the desperation to sail away and explore, and embark on a search [1,3]. He doesn't know where She could be, as She isn't physically present in The Man's modern reality, yet She still lives with him, wherever he might roam [1,2,3].

[BRIDGE] Lives for the memory A woman who's just in his head (Just in his head) And She sleeps in his bed (His bed) While He plays pretend (Pretend) So pretend (Pretend)

Lives for the memory: Third-person perspective (return to core POV). This line hits me so much, always has, and I find it to be so fucking powerful. The Man lives for the memory of She, as it keeps him afloat [1,2,3]. There's a yearning there, and The Man's desperate need to be more connected with his She only amplifies as the song progresses [1,2,3]. This memory of her, the riddle of She, that spurs him on and saves him from moments of utter despair spirals in the mundanity-laced routines [1,2]. The Man is living for other people's memories, staying upright day after day to return to She, the one who will never leave his head, his memory [2,3].

A woman who's just in his head (Just in his head): Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). This is the narrator speaking, for the bridge returns to that core third-person perspective. I feel this lyric could be eligible for a one-line summarization. Though it may not have come into The Man's realization — or, maybe it has — this mystifying She can only remain inside his head [1,2,3].

And SHE sleeps in HIS bed (His bed): Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). The bed, often, is a symbol of intimacy (done in the song Falling, as well!). The Man's entire life, though normal and mundane on the surface level, is emotionally centered around this daydream of She [1,2,3]. He stumbles through his life, always thinking of her, imagining that She's still with him [2]. He stumbles through his life, always thinking of She, imagining one day that he can embrace their cohesive duality [3]. He stumbles through his life, always thinking of her, imagining the day he'll be able to stare into She's eyes and know her profoundly [1]. The Man has fostered an intimacy with She, feeling her with him in the morning, in the afternoon, and into the night. In his bed.

While HE plays pretend (Pretend) / So pretend (Pretend): Third-person perspective (remain in core POV). Playing pretend and make-believe leads to more exploration, and in this exploration, The Man tenderly maintains and expands his connection to She. But, I find this to be referring more to the moments that The Man has to leave her or hide She away in his memory — the same he lives for, don't forget — so he can blend in with the rest [1,2,3]. The Man aches to live authentically, and this awakening She has given him is painful and confusing [1,3]. I've always heard that last bit of the bridge sounding a little defeated, almost needing to be paired with a deep sigh.

[CHORUS 2] She (She!), She lives in daydreams with me (She!) She's the first one that I see, and I don't know why I don't know who She is (She!) She (She!), She's the first one that I see (She!) She lives in daydreams with me, and I don't know why I don't know where She is (She! She!)

One more rendition of the chorus, the add-on version, before instrumentals break out into the foreground — and the last time when the masculine voice is the vocal point. With repetition — which I always stand by it's an important tool if utilized correctly! — of the same lines we heard before, I think it emphasizes that the desperation to fathom the riddle of She has only grown stronger in The Man, overtaking him even. And there's more determination to close the dimension of separation, which sets the listener up to shut their eyes to get enveloped in She herself, much as The Man has been. Through instrumentals. In 3, 2, 1 ...

[GUITAR SOLO]

Standing ovation for Mitch Rowland everybody! A poet of the guitar faction, let's go! The guitar solo caps off the song, and pushes the feminine into the foreground. The mystifying She makes herself known independently in the sexy and sultry sound, mirroring the attraction and pull towards her that he felt [1,2,3]. Around 4:50 to 4:55 in the song, there are these beeping noises, almost reminiscent of a clock alarm. But, the beeping soon subsides as quick as it came, and the dance on the guitar continues. This indicates that The Man has now remained in his daydream and memory with She [1,2,3], composing an unwritten conclusion to our story.

For, I believe that no matter what path you take in interpreting, She is a song that tells a story with so many layers, full of recognition, and this ability to make you sink in so much that you forget how long a mere six minutes can be.

dedicated to this anon <3

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[abyssalpriest]

Astral Diary: 20230915-AG-DB (recorded 15/9/23- (plane) - recorded by me Dei in my body)

I was talking to Leviathan the other night, Ahi got brought up and I either thought to or was nudged (or both) to go follow our connection to what he was up to. He was asleep in this strange room, on something I definitely recognised as a familiar sort of bed (as opposed to it being as alien as I would've expected), in a room with a huge glass window wall that was curved like steamed bent wood is curved, rounded, thick, and a singular unit. Outside the window though seemed to be the expanse of space itself with what seemed to me to be a huge star since its light took up probably a third of the front-facing portion of the glass wall, but Lev said it is far away when I was asking about the logistics of being so close to a star. Huge, but far away. I'm wondering if it really is the light of the star I see, or if my vision was a stand-in for it's energy or heat or something, because I can both see and not see it and I’m not sure how exactly space could fill up with the light of a distant star… Then again, that would fit in with what plane this seems to be on: The one where everything blurs together and ideas, concepts, feelings, energy, seems to be much more prominently stitching itself into reality, IE it would make sense to me that the exudation of light was visible to more than just me because it is an influence on reality, not because it’s photons bouncing off atoms that shouldn’t exist like this sort of light would imply on our plane in space.

It was interesting though, the way he was sleeping which I should've expected, but it's one thing to expect something in words and another to expect how it would feel. It almost felt like he was dreaming within a lucid dreamer’s dream within a sleeping body or something, his layers of consciousness are so complex and layered and his understanding of layers of reality and consciousness and selves are so extensive… Which seems stupid to say, it's like commenting on a virtuoso performance "Wow, they really know what strings play what notes," but it's hard to have the language to speak about what exactly is going on let alone the ability to understand it.

I registered him in a human form but when I actually look at the scene he's not human. I think it was the fact that I'm practiced with (and allowed to be) possessing the two of them, Lev and Ahi, hence how I got there in the first place, and I think what I was registering was my own form given it's almost like the human form is overlaid across what he actually is… Which is very hard for me to register. I wonder if it's a case of he knows where he's sleeping so he's conscious of the glass window, the strange shape of the room, the feeling of the bed, but his self-awareness is so internalised and reflecting internally and busy with the dreaming states that his sense of external self is hard to read.

It does seem to be… Probably the plane I usually see him on…? As if I know what any other than like two planes feel like lmfao, real "guy who's only ever seen two planes be like: wow this is really similar to those two planes" hours. What I mean though is it's very dreamlike but also real, dreamlike in the way that things blend together, very liquid, I'm wondering if it's just a different sub-plane to the one the Garden of Stars is in.

[contemporaryabstract]

GELA MIKAVA: Capturing the Emotional Complexities of Contemporary Life

GELA MIKAVA’s artwork presents a powerful visual exploration of the psychological and emotional states defining today’s world. Through his distinct use of color and form, MIKAVA delves into the nuanced inner lives of individuals grappling with the complexities of modern identity, relationships, and self-awareness. His pieces often feature figures that appear ambiguous and fragmented, symbolizing the constantly shifting and uncertain identities people navigate in today’s fast-paced, media-driven culture.

A notable aspect of MIKAVA's style is his use of contrasting colors and intense expressions. These elements evoke feelings of isolation and anxiety that resonate deeply in an era where digital interactions frequently replace human connections. His works raise questions about the authenticity of relationships and self-perception in a world where technology often serves as an intermediary. By doing so, MIKAVA not only addresses the psychological pressures faced by individuals but also sheds light on the socio-emotional tensions characteristic of modern life.

Beyond exploring interpersonal and identity-based themes, MIKAVA's artwork frequently comments on the materialistic and status-driven motivations that can trap individuals in restrictive social frameworks. His figures, depicted with a dreamlike fluidity, seem to struggle against these societal limitations, expressing a longing for genuine freedom and self-discovery. Through his art, MIKAVA provides viewers with a symbolic journey that encourages them to confront their own emotional and psychological landscapes.

In essence, GELA MIKAVA’s work serves as a striking commentary on the human condition within contemporary society. His use of ambiguous forms and vibrant color schemes captures the complexity and depth of modern emotional experience, making his work both thought-provoking and deeply relatable.

[tysonchan632]

Positioning statement

Journey To Contentment

Happiness is an emotional state often characterized by feelings of joy, satisfaction, and fulfilment. Throughout my life, I’ve encountered different forms of happiness, each bringing its unique set of emotions and challenges. Happiness is something we all seek, whether through relationships, cherished memories, personal achievements, or other forms of happiness. However, it’s important to know that happiness is deeply subjective; what brings joy to one person may not resonate with another. When people talk about happiness, they usually describe what personally brings them joy, which varies widely from person to person.

In creating my image, I wanted to illustrate the “journey to contentment,” a concept that reflects the complexity and individuality of happiness. My goal was to craft an image that felt both surreal and deeply personal, blending elements of realism and fantasy to create a piece that would resonate with viewers on multiple emotional levels. The creation process involved extensive research, during which I drew inspiration from the works of two artists who significantly influenced my approach: Daisuke Yokota, a Japanese photographer, and Kasia Derwinska, a Polish visual artist.

Daisuke Yokota is renowned for his innovative approach to photography, particularly in how he merges elements of the past with visions of the future. His work often reflects a desire to capture the fleeting nature of memory and its transformation over time. A quote from Yokota that resonated with me deeply states, “I began thinking about photography differently—about layering the elements and melding them into a whole.” This idea of layering and blending time within a single image became a central theme in my work. Yokota also discussed the concept of “visual noise” as a representation of the present, which he believes should be integrated into the picture. This perspective inspired me to experiment with layering multiple images, allowing me to explore the passage of time and the emotional depth that comes with it.

Kasia Derwinska’s work, known for its exploration of isolation, self-experience, and the subconscious, also played a significant role in shaping my concept. Her use of dreamlike imagery to express complex emotions and ideas resonated deeply with me. In my image, the barely visible bridge serves as a metaphor for the mental connection one must make with oneself to reach a state of happiness. The brightness of the rainbow and the solitary figure at the centre of the image convey a sense of hope and eventual peace, even when surrounded by darkness. This contrast between light and dark reflects the challenges and triumphs encountered on the journey to contentment.

The final image I created consists of four photographs, carefully layered to convey a sense of both physical and emotional journey. The image features a barely visible bridge that leads to a grassy field with a rainbow in the distance. At the centre of the composition is a glowing figure that draws the viewer’s attention. The bridge in the image represents the mental and emotional journey toward contentment, a path that is often unclear and difficult to navigate. The grassy field and rainbow symbolize the serenity and fulfilment found at the journey’s end, while the lone figure embodies solitude and contemplation. This figure appears to be lost in thought, symbolizing the internal struggles and reflections one faces on the path to happiness.

My piece, "Journey to Contentment," is more than just a visual creation; it’s an exploration of the intricate emotions and experiences involved in seeking and finding happiness. Through photography and digital manipulation, I aimed to create an image that speaks to the complex nature of this emotional journey, one that is both deeply personal and relatable. This piece is something in which words cannot explain the feelings of complex emotions, the journey and experience we gained to reach our contentment.

[genericvid]

Achieve Your Dreams Instantly With Quantum Leap Manifestation Explained

Have you ever been so absorbed in a book or movie that its plot or storyline were a part of your daily life? It's called Quantum Leaping. Quantum Jumping is one of the most powerful creative visualization methods available. It is based on both the Law of Attraction and quantum Physics. Be Specific It doesn't need to be an overwhelming task. All you need is to be clear on what you want and putting those dreams into actions. It is important to imagine yourself as the character you would like to take on, whether it's getting on a spaceship explore the universe, or becoming a world-renowned biologist, or making it onto the TIME cover. Create a vision or a journal and place it beside your mattress. Keep the journal updated every morning. This will allow you to recall your dreams in more depth and may result in lucid dreams. Quantum jumping is a technique which allows you to tap into your inner spirit and receive the precise guidance that you require to accomplish your objectives. You can envision what you want to experience by visualizing it and then putting yourself into an unwinding, peaceful state. The Universe will follow you and bring you the desired experiences. Keep your eyes on your dreams When it comes to achieving your goals, you have to be focused on the things you would like to achieve. Therefore, it is important to keep a journal of your manifesto and record all of your desires. It will help you remain focused on your objectives, and avoid getting distracted by negative feelings or thoughts. You can also focus on your goal by practicing writing scripts. It is a method of manifestation that involves writing your desired outcome in the present tense. This trick will make your brain believe you've reached your goal, and will accelerate the manifestation process.

It's equally important to trust in your goals and believe that the universe will be able to bring them to you. It can be challenging at first, but as you continue to practice positive thinking and manifestation, it will become easier to maintain this mindset. It is possible to observe signs that indicate the universe is working on your behalf, such as overhearing conversations about your desire, or experiencing themes that are related to it happening in your life. Create a Positive Mental Environment One of the most powerful ways to make your dreams come true is creating a positive emotional environment. It means removing negative thoughts and replacing them with positive ones. Also, you must shape your physical environment to help you achieve your objectives. For example, if your goal is to experience dreamlike dreams, you can create positive triggers for this by being exposed to sensory inputs related to it. Certain stimuli can be extremely responsive to our unconscious minds. They can connect certain music or smells to certain objectives. You can also consciously cut down on your media consumption and focus your attention on positive, encouraging news articles. This will help you build positive internal dialogue and build resilience. Ultimately, creating a positive mental environment will help you achieve your goals faster. It will also help make the process of quantum jumping significantly easier. So get started! Keep at it and be patient. You will see the results from this method in due time. Practice Quantum Jumping Quantum Jumping is a method that can help you make your goals come true. This is a method of visualization that allows you to enter an alternate universe and harness the power of endless possibilities. It is based on the idea that everything is part of the multiverse. Quantum jumps can be used to reach any goal, whether it is wealth and happiness or healthy living and control over oneself. Quantum jumping can help you to overcome challenges and increase your mental clarity. It is important to keep your attention on the desired outcome and to visualize it frequently. Your subconscious will be aligned as well as your conscious mind to the universe in order to find what you want. Quantum Jumping can also be used to find and learn from your alternate self. It can help you learn the language of your choice and master a musical talent or get a job. This could be beneficial to overcome obstacles such as an economic crisis, a difficult relationship, or even a new job. Go to YouTube

[picturestore211]

Exploring the Dreamlike Worlds of Duy Huynh: An Exhibition of Original Art in Sydney.

Sydney’s vibrant art scene is about to be graced with a touch of whimsy and wonder as the original works of acclaimed artist Duy Huynh come to town. Known for his ethereal and dreamlike paintings, Huynh's art transports viewers to a realm where reality blends seamlessly with fantasy, inviting them to explore stories of transcendence, migration, and the human experience.

Who is Duy Huynh?

Duy Huynh is a Vietnamese-born artist whose journey to the United States as a child refugee has deeply influenced his artistic narrative. His works often reflect themes of cultural assimilation, geographical displacement, and the search for identity, all woven together with a surrealistic touch. Huynh’s paintings are characterized by their delicate balance of whimsy and introspection, creating a unique visual language that speaks to universal human emotions.

The Exhibition: A Visual Poetry

This exhibition in Sydney offers a rare opportunity to immerse oneself in Huynh’s visual poetry. Each painting is a carefully crafted story, told through the delicate interplay of color, light, and symbolism. Birds take flight from a girl’s open hands, a man balances on a tightrope strung between clouds, and boats sail across the night sky – these are just glimpses into the enchanting worlds Huynh creates.

What to Expect

Visitors to the exhibition can expect to be captivated by Huynh’s meticulous attention to detail and his ability to evoke deep emotional responses through his art. The exhibition will feature a curated selection of his original works, showcasing the breadth of his talent and the evolution of his artistic style. From intimate, small-scale pieces to larger, more immersive works, the collection promises to offer something for everyone.

Highlights

Storytelling through Symbolism: Each piece is rich with symbolism, offering layers of meaning that reveal themselves upon closer inspection. Huynh’s use of recurring motifs – such as birds, boats, and musical instruments – adds depth to his storytelling, inviting viewers to interpret and connect with the art on a personal level.

Surrealistic Charm: Huynh’s art is known for its surrealistic charm, often blending elements of nature with human figures in unexpected ways. This creates a dreamlike quality that is both captivating and thought-provoking.

Cultural Reflection: Reflecting his own experiences as a refugee and immigrant, Huynh’s work often explores themes of cultural identity and the feeling of being in-between worlds. This adds a poignant layer to his art, making it not just visually appealing but also emotionally resonant.

Why You Should Visit

Attending this exhibition is not just about viewing art; it’s about experiencing a journey through the artist’s mind and soul. Huynh’s ability to convey complex emotions and narratives through his paintings makes his work incredibly engaging and thought-provoking. Whether you’re an art aficionado or simply someone who appreciates beautiful, meaningful art, this exhibition is a must-see.

Final Thoughts

Duy Huynh’s art has the power to transport viewers to a place where dreams and reality converge, offering a moment of reflection and wonder. The upcoming exhibition in Sydney is a unique chance to witness the magic of his original works up close. Don’t miss the opportunity to step into Huynh’s enchanting world and experience the beauty of his visual storytelling.

Mark your calendars and prepare to be enchanted by the dreamlike art of Duy Huynh. Sydney awaits your visit to this extraordinary exhibition.

Contact Information:

Address:- PictureStore 5/51 Leighton Place Hornsby NSW 2077 Australia

Phone:- (02) 9482 9970

Email:- info@picturestore.com.au

website:- www.picturestore.com.au

[neteluvr-library]

ANDRA BBY IM SO SORRY FOR THE SPAM AGAIN BUT LIKE....it must be done???? i dont make the rules ): don't mind me cruising through illicit affairs. now it is currently 1 am so if im a little unhinged now so please excuse my thoughts AHAHAHAH

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

ANDRA YOU CHEEKY BASTARD YOU!!!!!!! im gonna have to find every "just you and me" reference now.

You’d recognise this voice anywhere, for the rest of your life, this voice was going to be able to pull you out of the deepest shadows and into the light. You opened your eyes and willed them to focus past the tears, past the blood you could feel on your hands and feet and focus on the blue form talking to you.

SEFEHUGHBKRBJSGJRGBOENGFOBR IM FUCKING CRYING ITS TOO SWEET....but *spoilers for the archer* I LOVE HOW ATAN'S VOICE ALSO PULLED NETEYAM OUT OF HIS COMATOSE DREAMLIKE STATE IN THE ARCHER ): like everything really is a circle for them. they are A CIRCLE FOREVER CONNECTED FOR INFNITY

“Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths, can you do that for me? I need you to give me a sign you can hear me, Atan (light). Please, please.”

THE FIRST ATAN OF MANY??? THE FIRST CHARACTER NAME WE GET FOR Y/N????? not about illicit affairs but MiM...but im really glad Y/N has Vi as her nickname now like after atan and vol, it just didn't seem right that MiM y/n didn't have a name?? what else were we gonna refer to her as? SHE NEEDED A NICKNAME ATAN, VOL, AND VI ARE THE HOLY TRINITY. makes me wonder if y/n in false god will have an iconic nickname 😝

Your new body fit into his like the final piece of the puzzle you were both trying to solve all your lives. 

GGODAMN IT THIS IS TOO GOOD.

He was bawling now, bringing his knees to his chest and settling his head on them. “I feel like my being in her life will kill her.”

OOOF THIS PART!!! This scene is one of the best in illicit affairs because it gives great insight in why neteyam and atan's relationship is so straight. He's very noble in his reasoning and i think its logical. If atan is constantly hurt when he's around, he must be the issue right? WRONG!!!!! like seriously why did he think leaving was the best choice 😭 but also to know he loves her so much he is willing to leave her at the small chance of making her life easier (except it didn't) is so !!!!! (no words--sorry its 1 am). ITS LITERALLY JUST UNFORTUNATE COINCIDENCES AHHHHHHHHHH. i picture neteyam sobbing and heaving and it makes me so sad pls i want to hold him forever and reassure him that NO DO NOT LEAVE ATAN PLEASEEEEEE

“Your dad and I have not said anything until now, because we know. We’ve always known how you felt for her. And we wish that she could have been Na’vi, that this could happen for you, son, but maybe this is a sign from Eywa to look towards the future, to start finding your true mate, one who will not make you feel like this when you are around her. Love is not supposed to hurt, my son.”

OUCH because I actually feel very offended that Neytiri would even suggest that Neteyam's love for Atan is hurting him. Like yes, it is hurting him. But not in a way that's toxic and harmful. I think he just loves Atan so much that it is overwhelming and powerful which would cause him to be emotional and feel everything at a heightened level. Not because its Eywa's sign that his and Atan's love is not good ): ALSO LMFAO AT THE DIFFERENCE IN TPYINH FROM THIS NOTE COMPARED TO THE LAST....you can tell i feel serious when i start using formal punctuation and grammar HAHAAH

You couldn’t take another dream, another anything, so, popping two Xanax pills, you crashed your head into the pillow and hoped for a peaceful blackout. 

This may be controverisal...but i love Atan's drug addiction? NOT because I'm romanticizing it but I think its a very accurate portrayal of what depression can do you and i think it added a level of intensity that you don't see often in literature and fanfics. Like...how many times does the female main character have a drug addiction? I really enjoy the intensity of it because it adds a layer of rawness (I'm sorry I use this word a lot but i think its very applicable to your writing) and depth that i like to see in female characters. NOT ALL WOMEN ARE PRISTINE AND PERFECT AND GRACEFUL like yes we suffer too and sometimes that suffering manifest in less than pretty ways

“Ow, ow, ow!! Kiri, stop that! They were next to my sleeping bag, don’t leave your shit everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.” 

“NOT PEOPLE, LO’AK. YOU! IT’S ALWAYS YOU!”

HAHAHAH I LOVE THIS ITS SO FUNNY. BEST BROTHER SISTER DUO GOES TO LOAK AND KIRI

You saw it in yourself and your day to day struggle to empty your cup, your mind always looking for meaning, and answers, and ways to fix and analyse and quantify. Always requiring proof, never being able to just be and watch and observe things and beings for what they are, not what they could be.

This is very profound and fitting for human nature. We need to THINK less and SEE more.

He was gone most evenings while you had dinner with his family, and would only come back soon before you made your way to your tent.

This small detail. SOMETHING THAT SEEMS SO inconsequential....BUT IS NOT. i didn't pay attention to this line at first, but on my second read of illicit affairs i caught onto it 😒 you think you're funny planting these small details HUH?!?!??!!?

In it, you were weak, plagued by all your insecurities and fears and nightmares, all of which came out at night.

Same 🥰

“Well, it has a camera sight on the top for better aim and targeting. It has a second grip for better firing stability and has a long barrel that allows for higher muzzler velocity. Like most weapons used by humans, it can also fire 0226-LSAR ammo, and a grande launcher can be attached to the second grip.”

BABY IM SO SORRY I HAVE TO ADMIT THIS BUT...my brain did not process this at all when i first read this. i was like okay cool, BUT THEN YOU SAID YOU DID THE MOST RESEARCH ON GUNS AND I FELT SO BAD FOR NOT APPRECIATING IT. LIKE IT JUST ADDS SO MUCH MORE TO THE STORY AND IM FOREVER IN AWE OF HOW DEDICATED YOU ARE TO WRITING AND YOUR LORE? it didn't compute in my brain that you actually had to research this like ofc you didn't know this info out of your ass?

Jake has tried to be your dad for a long time and you just couldn’t bring yourself to allow that kind of love in your life anymore, not after knowing what it’s like to lose it. 

LET HIM IN YOU BIG DUMBO!!!!!! the truth is, you can crave something so bad (love) while simultaneously driving it away and that's exactly what atan is doing ): ... again same girl same 🥰 i also run away from what i want most bc of my insecurities 🥰

Pushing the knife against his throat, you applied pressure and made a cut. The boy tried his best to recoil, but the men did a better job at keeping him down than you thought they would. You took the knife and placed it on the ground, then took the syringe Lo’ak gave you and hollowed it out.

THIS PART TOO? LIKE YOU HAD TO RESEACH IT AND I WAS LIKE OH OKAY SHE JUST AUTOMATICALLY KNEW HOW TO DESCRIBE A TRACHEOSTOMY?? THATS A LOT OF RESEARCH FOR ONE CHAPTER. just know i appreciate it now!!!!!!

You were an angel. There was so much hurt and darkness in you, but somehow you managed to spread light everywhere you went. No matter how hard life got, you never lost the desire to do good, to be good, and Neteyam didn’t think he could love you any more than he did right at that second. 

WAHHHHH IM GONNA CRY ): NETEYAM ALWAYS THINKS THE SWEETEST MOST ENDEARING THINGS ABOUT ATAN. THAT IS A MAN IN LOVE!!! atan...light...angel...spread light. i aspire to be like atan and i hope i can radiate light like her even tho im struggling mentally AHAHAHA ):

“It was supposed to be done for your birthday, but it took me a lot longer than I thought carving the wood.” 

this is so cute but also the thought of a na'vi sized guitar is hilarious. that shit is a weapon. LITTLE SONGBIRD ATAN ❣️

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

GIRL FUCK YOU 😭😭 TIOEFJWIGSNINONHJOGOB S I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS????? I LITERALLY DONT REMEBER THE 1 BEING IN ILLICIT AFFAIRS. IM SOBBING BECAUSE I CAN ONLY ASSOCIATE THIS SONG WITH NETEYAM AND VOL NOW GHIHOIBA IM AHHHHHHHHHH it does fit very well in this scene. THE 1 GIVES ME SUCH A GUT REACTION I CANT ITS LIKE A TRIGGER BUT ALSO I LOVE IT SM WHYNWOULD YOU DO THIS ?

You didn’t realise you forgot to put a mask on in your distracted state, and with the hood prepped and ready to go, you removed the blood from the fridge where you kept it while everything you ready and made your way to your work station.

OOP- 😈

this was actually super longjfongnbaIG OKAY ITS ALMOST 2 AM SO IM DEFINITELY GOING TO SLEEP BUT I LOVE THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE ITS THE CATALYST FOR ALL THE SHIT THATS ABOUT TO GO DOWN AND I LIVE FOR THE CHAOS AND ANGST AHHHHHHHH

Illicit Affairs | Chapter V: All Too Well

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Synopsis: Neteyam's life changed when you came into his life the first time, and is now bound to change again, in ways neither of you could have ever predicted.

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, descriptions of ptsd flashbacks, cursing, blood, descriptions of surgical procedures, some fluff.

Word Count: 9k words (wow)

A/N: Chapter 5 is coming out a little earlier than expected because I am too excited to wait. We finally get to discover a little more about what Neteyam's gone through and his decision to leave, so super chuffed about that. I am working really hard trying to balance writing for this and being a PhD student, but I am happy with the progress I am making and hope to be done with Chapter 6 in a couple days' time. Things are quickly unfolding, and there is a looot happening in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts x

From when your Brooklyn broke my skin and bones I'm a soldier who's returning half her weight And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue? Just between us, did this love affair maim you too?

“Fuck, fuck fuck!” Neteyam ran faster than he knew he could and kneeled next to you. He was panting in heart-stopping fear, watching your shaking form and hearing your pained wails that were opening out so many holes in his chest, the pain was unbearable. He forced himself to try and remember what to do; this wasn’t your first flashback, this wasn’t the first flashback he’s had to walk you through. One, do not touch the person experiencing a PTSD flashback. Done. Two?

“Y/N. It’s me, it’s Neteyam, listen to me. You are with me in the the forest a couple clicks North-west of the village. It’s just you and me, there’s nothing happening to you right now. You’re safe. It’s just you and me.”

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

Everything hurt. You just wanted it over, you wanted everything to be over. You couldn’t hear or see anything around you, except yourself in a past you’d do anything to forget about. 

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

“It’s me. Hey, it’s me. You’re ok. We’re ok. You are with me now, you’re safe. Please come back.”

You’d recognise this voice anywhere, for the rest of your life, this voice was going to be able to pull you out of the deepest shadows and into the light. You opened your eyes and willed them to focus past the tears, past the blood you could feel on your hands and feet and focus on the blue form talking to you.

“Breathe. Take slow, deep breaths, can you do that for me? I need you to give me a sign you can hear me, Atan (light). Please, please.”

You tried your best to do as you were told. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Remembering his request, you nodded almost imperceptibly.

“I’m here. You’re safe. Please come back. It’s just you and me.” 

Just you and me. Just you and me. Just you and me. 

Neteyam… 

You slowly moved your hands, searching, desperately needing the feel of his warmth on you. He knew, he always knew. Without the smallest hesitation, he grabbed both of your hands in his. You looked at him, finally able to see in front of you, see what was real. He was real. Your tears fell freely down your cheeks, and without a second thought, you removed your hands from his and felt your arms reach out for him, for all of him. You hugged him tightly and sighed a breath of relief when he closed whatever space was left between you and held you close. Your new body fit into his like the final piece of the puzzle you were both trying to solve all your lives. 

You didn’t say a word. The world was moving on around you, but not you. You and Neteyam stood there, in the little corner of Pandora that suddenly felt a lot like a safe haven in the storm. 

“You’re ok to get up?” 

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Do you want me to carry you back?”

“No, thank you. I can walk.”

It was too late to continue training and you silently made your way back to the village. You felt embarrassed, and so you walked with your head down the whole way back. You knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about, there was nothing to be ashamed of, and yet, going back on your first day in this new body, having been given a second chance at a new life, you were disappointed that your nightmares didn’t seem to care which version of you they had to go through to resurface. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, Neteyam. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m sorry you always seem to be around when these things happen.” 

If only you knew how sorry he was that he was always around when these things happen.

He couldn’t be sure, but he can guess what triggered your flashbacks. He couldn’t lie and say that day didn’t haunt his dreams, too.

Neteyam made his way back to the village that evening shaking and in tears, and wanted nothing more to take his Ikran far away to a place no one would be able to find him. But alas, he took his bow from the stand in the family tent and slipped out unnoticed while everyone else was having a communal dinner by the bonfire. He walked furiously, still shaking, still crying, until he reached the training grounds he used to go to every day when he was younger. He saw broken arrows on the ground next to some of the targets and felt it was fitting for how he was feeling. Broken, like no amount of care could ever bring him back to the arrow he was currently holding in his hands. He made quick work of the targets he could easily spot, then worked his way through the harder ones until his body ached and his fingers bled from all the now-opened scabs. 

“Ma ‘itan (my son).” He heard a voice break through the shadows of the now fluorescent flora surrounding him. He saw his mum’s steps before he actually saw her, and turned his back to her before she could see him, truly see him.

Neytiri approached him slowly and gently took the bow from his hands. She placed it around her body and placed her arms on her son, one on his back and one on his chest, above his heart. 

“What is the matter, son?” 

“Nothing, mother. I will come home soon, I promise.” 

She reached over and wiped away her son’s tears with her thumb. 

“Please, tell me what happened.” 

Neteyam couldn’t hide anymore when a small guttural cry escaped his lips. His mum slowly moved him away from the practice area and sat him down on the grass, that illuminated under their weight. 

“Mum, I’m killing her.” 

He was bawling now, bringing his knees to his chest and settling his head on them. “I feel like my being in her life will kill her.”

“Y/N?” 

“Every time we are together, something happens to her that breaks her even more. She found her dad, mum. She found her dad’s skeleton racing me through the forest. I almost killed her once because I wanted to get her out and show her the forest, so I almost killed her on my Ikran.”

“Ma ‘itan…”

“She wouldn’t go outside if it wasn’t for me. I push her to go, because I hate seeing her like this, seeing her wasting away in a lab, I just want her to be better, and happy and free, like she used to be when we were kids. I push her to go, and every time it ends up making it worse.”

Neytiri waited for her son to release all the worry plaguing him. Her son kept everything inside, but if you were patient enough with him, he would let you in eventually. 

“Neteyam… you can’t blame yourself for these things. You had no way of knowing how these things would turn out. Yes, it was irresponsible to take her on the Ikran, but you were a child. You wanted to help, and she loved being on it. She told me it was the best thing she had ever done, and that she is grateful that you thought to take her with you. Your strong heart saved both of you from Toruk. I am sorry about what happened today, that must have been really hard on her, but you were just walking trough the forest together. Any other place on Pandora, and this wouldn’t have happened. This was just a horrible misfortune, but it’s not your misfortune to bear.”

Neteyam was crying so hard he felt himself running out of breath. 

“You didn’t see her, mum. I saw her, laying unconscious on the ground. I saw the blood, so much blood I didn’t even think such a small person could carry it. I thought she died. I have nightmares about that night that I will never be able to outgrow. You should have seen her today. She was shaking and screaming and clawing at her feet so hard, she won’t be able to walk for weeks. Why must everything bad in the world must happen to her, mum?”

“We don’t know what Eywa has in store, ma ‘itan. She protects the balance of life, and maybe there is a reason for all this hurt. We can only help her the best way we know how, by loving her and being there for her. We have to hope that that’s enough.” 

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, mum. I don’t think I can watch her suffer anymore. It’s killing me. I love her, mum. I love her so much and there is nothing I want more in the world than to take her hurt and make it go away.”

“Neteyam, I think sometimes it is better to realise a hard truth early than live with a comfortable reality until the cracks in your heart are too deep to ever be able to be mended. Maybe both of you just need some time apart, to grow and heal on your own. I know you love her, Neteyam. But she will never be yours. She’s not one of us, son. You will never be able to be mated. I know you love her, but she is human. So maybe some time apart will allow you to move on, and then you can be there for her, as her friend, as someone who can help her navigate this life whilst living your own.”

“Your dad and I have not said anything until now, because we know. We’ve always known how you felt for her. And we wish that she could have been Na’vi, that this could happen for you, son, but maybe this is a sign from Eywa to look towards the future, to start finding your true mate, one who will not make you feel like this when you are around her. Love is not supposed to hurt, my son.”

He looked over to the girl walking close to him, the girl who was now no longer just a human, but an Avatar, a girl who had a chance to be one of the people one day, but whose demons did not diminish over time at all, and he wondered if they ever will. 

Soon enough, the lights of the village came into view and you were not ready to have to talk to anybody, explain to anybody when there were no words to describe the pain and anguish inside your heart. You wanted sleep, a deep sleep that wouldn’t cease in the morning. 

“How about you just go to your tent for the night? You can catch up with the family tomorrow morning. I will tell them you worked really hard and since this was your first day in a new body, you just need some rest.” 

You let out a big sigh of relief, and nodded silently at Neteyam, grateful and unnerved at his uncanny ability to understand your needs almost better than you were able to understand them yourself.

“Irayo (Thank you).”

Your tent felt cold and uninviting when you entered it, but you couldn’t be bothered to think about it too hard, and, as you let yourself collapse on the mat that would qualify as a bed for the foreseeable future, you thought about all the new challenges that dawn will bring. 

“That’s right, come on back, Ace. That’s it.” 

The light was blinding you, as your eyes adjusted to your newfound environment. You groaned slightly and removed the metal cage trapping you to the linkpod. With heavy legs, you got up and stretched your body as well as you could, trying to ignore the tingling of your limbs as the blood flowed through them properly for the first time in over half a day. 

“So, how was it?” Norm was almost besides himself excited, and you knew you had to lie, because telling him it was one of the hardest, most excruciating days of your life might dampen the current mood. 

“Hard, but a lot of fun! I learnt to ride a Pa’li, and Tsaheylu is unlike anything I have ever experienced. There really is nothing like it in this body that can compare.” 

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

“I think just more of the same? I’ll start learning how to shoot a bow soon, too. I, for one, think I’ll kick ass at it.” You said, hoping your amused tone and sly comments were enthusiastic enough to be perceived as authentic. 

“I’m sure you will, Ace. You off to bed?”

“Yeah, I’m exhausted.” 

Your human face staring back at you in the mirror looked somewhat better than the muddy, cried-out one you left behind at the village, but that doesn’t mean much when both bodies shared a soul, one that looked much worse than either of them could ever reflect. 

You couldn’t take another dream, another anything, so, popping two Xanax pills, you crashed your head into the pillow and hoped for a peaceful blackout. 

The next day, you were back in your Avatar body before dawn, and made your way towards the Sully tent, dedicated to make this work. It took a while to get the mud off your body at the nearby river, but eventually you thought you looked presentable enough to go ahead with the day. You promised Lo’ak, and Jake, and Norm, and yourself, that you would make this work, or at least give it a good college try. 

“Can I come in?” You remember to speak in Na’vi, and find the family eating breakfast around the fire. 

“Lo’ak you skxawng, you stepped on the herbs I spent all of yesterday collecting.” Kiri was screaming at Lo’ak and hitting him across the arm while he was trying to defend himself as best he could from the continuous onslaught.

“Ow, ow, ow!! Kiri, stop that! They were next to my sleeping bag, don’t leave your shit everywhere if you don’t want people to step on it.” 

“NOT PEOPLE, LO’AK. YOU! IT’S ALWAYS YOU!” 

“Bro, remove your girl before she maims me.” Lo’ak directed his attention to the human boy sitting in the corner, just laughing and enjoying the show.

You couldn’t help laugh at the scene, fondly remembering all the times Lo’ak and Kiri bickered like twins - there was no doubt in your mind these two were made to be siblings. 

Neteyam, sitting in a corner in silence, sharpening his knife, glanced up at you inquisitively. You didn’t like how intimate his gaze felt and with the perspective of a new day, you knew it was a mistake to allow him so close to you yesterday, to allow yourself to touch him and hug him and pull his body close to yours like he was your life support machine. A mistake. You don’t make mistakes. 

“Maite, come, sit, eat.” Neytiri came in and pushed you closer to the fire, placing her hands on your shoulders and forcing you to sit. She gave you fruits and seeds and motioned for you to go ahead. “Tell me how yesterday went! Neteyam told us you are much better at your Pa’li training than their dad ever was.” 

“Hey, I can hear you, you know?” Jake said, taking a break from cleaning a rifle to scowl lovingly at the mother of his children. 

“Well, I can’t speak to Jake’s proficiency, but I think it went well. Great Mother, the Tsaheylu was one of the most incredible experiences of my life, I never knew it was possible for a feeling like that to exist.” 

“Wait til you bond with an Ikran.” Lo’ak interjected. “It’s fucking awesome.” 

“LANGUAGE!” Said Jake at the same time Neytiri sent a hiss in her younger son’s direction. 

You and Neteyam made your way to the archery practice area. There were many people there, most of them accompanying their young kids learning to use a bow and arrow for the first time, learning to one day be able to pull their weight for the sake of the village and their loved ones. You stared in awe at the determination these children had, how unwavering and brightly it shone. It must be nice to be sure of the life ahead of you, be sure of your purpose and your future. 

“Right. Unlike Spider, you have not had any practice with our bows, so we have to go back to basics. There are things you always have to keep in mind when you shoot an arrow, and these things will take time. In time, it will become second nature to you, but practice makes perfect - although true for anything, it is especially true in this case.”

“First, your stance.” 

He removed his bow from around his body and demonstrated. You couldn’t help stare at him, couldn’t help trace your eyes all over his body, that was now fully on display for you, and adjusted your posture to now accommodate for the heat you felt in between your thighs at the sight. Fuck. 

He smirked at you and dropped the stance. “I’m going to need you to focus. Can you do that?”

You raised an eyebrow and looked at him, an annoyed look crossing you features. “Yes, I can do that. Don’t patronise me.”

He raised his hands, as if relenting, and apologised with a small smile. 

You raised the bow you were holding in your right hand and try to mimic his posture the best you could. He circled you, analysing every aspect of your stance, his gaze pausing on some aspects more than others. 

“Your knees are too straight. You have to bend them a little.” You did as you were told, no questions asked. You trusted he knew what he was talking about more than you’d ever be able to argue him on. 

One of his legs made his way between yours and slightly tugged at one, and you hissed at the contact. “Your feet need to be aligned with your shoulders.”

“Your feet also need to be parallel to the target.” You adjusted your feet slightly, focusing on trying to assimilate everything he was saying. You were nothing if not a good student. 

“Good. Remember, good stance means good posture, means consistent good shots.” 

He was a good teacher, you noted. Calm and patient, he took his time and never talked down to you. He explained well and was attentive to details, and you couldn’t help think this is, once again, proof of Neytiri and the clan’s influence on him. Whereas his two younger siblings were chaotic and a lot more human in their demeanour and behaviour, Neteyam was quiet, focused and determined. A true leader, a true warrior. The perfect son, Lo’ak words ring in your ears. 

He circled you once more, and you noticed your arms were starting to get tired. You didn’t complain, though. You were not going to be weak - couldn’t be weak. 

He placed a hand on your back and the other on one of your shoulders, willing them back in a straight position. Your body buzzed at the contact and you had to suppress a shiver running down your spine. “Your back always has to be straight. Not hunched, but not over-arched, either.” 

He placed both his hands on your hips, and you froze into place. His figure was towering over you, you could feel him, feel his warmth radiating on your back. He kept his distance, so as to not attach himself to you, and gently pulled your hips backwards. Your breath was laboured now, you knew, and let out a silent prayer that he couldn’t hear you, couldn’t hear your heart beat that you were sure was so loud it was noticeable within a 2 click radius. 

“Your hips have to be straight, too. No bending them forwards or backwards.” 

This went on for a while, just a slow torture that you thought was never going to end, until at some point, a few hours later, he finally allowed you to shoot an arrow. The pain you felt in between your shoulder blades and arms was nearing unbearable, but still, you soldiered on. You tried to keep in mind everything he told you all at once, and with a (hopefully) correct stance, posture, grip and bow arm, it was time to work on your release. Your fingers were cramping from holding the bow so tightly in between them, and with a slight whimper, you let go. 

He followed the arrow with his eyes, all the way through the air and past the target, getting stuck on the ground somewhere beyond view. He turned his attention back to you. 

“That was not horrible. Your arm is too low.” he says while gently placing a hand on your arrow-holding arm and moving it upward, furthering the pain you felt in between your shoulder blades. He moved his hand downwards and placed it on your abdomen. You gulped, and saw the ghost of a smile on his face. “Your core is not engaged, Y/N. Take a deep breath.” He waited for you to do as you were told. “Hold like this. Txur nì'ul. Stronger.”He didn’t remove his hand, that damn hand, until he was satisfied with your form, then let go. “Again.”

You spent your days like this, training, running, discovering Pandora’s flora and fauna, not as a scientist, but as a hunter and as an apprentice, with timid curiosity and appreciation for the life in front of you. For the first time in your life, you tried to see beyond the science and really see the miracles happening around you. Neteyam told you something on one of your walks that stuck with you. 

“When you see nothing, you will see everything.”

You see more and more why scientists, why your mother or Grace, or Norm or Max, could never make it here. It wasn’t because of survival, or training, or skill. You saw it in yourself and your day to day struggle to empty your cup, your mind always looking for meaning, and answers, and ways to fix and analyse and quantify. Always requiring proof, never being able to just be and watch and observe things and beings for what they are, not what they could be. This was all so unfamiliar to you, so strange, and you wondered if you were ever going to be able to see. 

After a while, the novelty of you, your alien body and blood ceased to be news to people and you were able to now be in the village without as much attention drawn to you, although the eyes never stopped completely. Not when you were always surrounded by at least one Sully, more often than not the two Sully brothers, the heirs to the Omatikaya rule. There was chatter in the village, you knew, about whether you were ever going to make it as one of the people, and how that would impact the future of the clan. Would they want yet another former Sky Walker as an integral part of their life, as their Tsahik, perhaps? 

The whispers of the people bothered you, but not enough to do anything about it. You knew they were baseless and premature, and had no intention of entertaining them. Lo’ak was your best friend, your brother that you loved and you knew loved you, and whatever other feelings he might have, you knew were just a side effect of hormonal growing pains. Lo’ak would outgrow you in time, and you were there to support him whenever he found a love worth harbouring. Neteyam, on the other hand, was a completely different story. The resentment you felt has never diminished in time, although the ice did melt a little after your fateful first day together. You made no efforts to engage with him outside of practice and he reciprocated the effort (or lack thereof) with the same enthusiasm. He was gone most evenings while you had dinner with his family, and would only come back soon before you made your way to your tent. You didn’t hate each other, but that was about the extent of your relationship. The intensity and heat you felt every time he touched you or looked at you in a certain way has also never diminished in time, but you knew yourself and your body enough to be able to resist him, at least until nighttime, when you were a human again and had a bed to yourself. 

You spent your nights mostly by yourself in the lab, determined to not fall behind on your lab work. You found having to have two completely different approaches to life very difficult, but in time, it was like you became two different people. You don’t think they’d like each other very much. Your life was split in two, and the bodies you inhabited made it easier on you to differentiate between the two halves. Your human body was weak, progressively weaker as time went on and you forsook the time to exercise it. In it, you were weak, plagued by all your insecurities and fears and nightmares, all of which came out at night. Your Avatar body was strong, progressively stronger with every day you spent running and training in the forest. In it, you were strong. A warrior, proud and determined and eager to learn. You laughed, and danced, and made conversation and learnt how to craft your own necklaces with Kiri whenever training with Neteyam got too much. You took Lo’ak by the hands and dragged him through the forest, laughing and swinging through trees. You took to Mo’at and tried to learn the healing ways of the Tsahik, as opposed to your mother’s medical training. Life was heaven in one body and hell in the other, and you couldn't tell which one haunted you more.

“Again.” Neteyam spoke over the voices of kids practising their target practice next to them. He had to admit to himself he was impressed with your progress. He knew he shouldn’t be, you were the most impressive and stubborn person he had ever met. He used to watch you patch and suture the Avatars in the lab when you were 13. They said your stitches were the best amongst the remaining humans. He watched you go from a child to a woman who seemed to know everything there was to know about everything. He didn’t know why he didn’t realise before this was going to be the same. You were irksome. 

You shot another bullseye and turned around to face him, smiling cockily and did a curtsy, he thought it was called. He rolled his eyes, but smiled at your satisfaction. 

“You can keep me here all day, I’ll just keep doing it, if not for anything else, just to spite you.” 

“Fine, we’re done. You are dismissed.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, in that way you always did, that way that drove him fucking crazy. Being next to you every day was driving him crazy. He didn’t know what hell he must have inflicted on a past life to warrant this. Always watching you, and knowing that stolen glances will always have to be enough. 

You started making your way back towards the village, and he followed you. It was such a stark contrast to your first day in this body. You looked confident, and happy. He wondered if it was real, if it was possible that it was indeed that easy, and being here, outside with them was enough to wash your nightmares away, to heal you. He felt a flicker of hope raising in his chest. Stop, Neteyam. What the fuck are you doing?

The village was quiet at this time of day, most people gone on hunts or rides or training. Neteyam heard his dad’s voice booming in the family tent and knew Lo’ak was in deep shit again. He sighed. Baby brother, why do you always have to make things so hard?

“Dammit, Lo’ak, we went through this for a month. A whole ass month. What is this called?” 

When you and Neteyam entered the tent, you found the two Sullys sitting on the ground, with the patriarch towering over Lo’ak with a gun in his hand. 

“I don’t know, sir.” 

“I don’t want to hear that. Do you fucking understand what we’re doing here? Do you understand the humans could be back any fucking day now? War is coming, do you understand this, boy? And you will straighten up, Lo’ak, or I swear to God you will not be allowed to ride an Ikran again for the rest of your life.” 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

Neteyam felt you wince at his dad’s words, and he knew you felt bad for his brother. He did so, too. But also understood that his dad is only trying to make sure they are ready for the time they will inevitably have to go to war. He can’t imagine the pressure on his shoulders at training his own kids to be prepared to avoid their own death and bring death upon others.

“Now, we went through this multiple times. What is this gun?”

He felt the silence bearing down on him, and then heard your voice raise above it.

“It’s a M69-AR, sir. It’s a machine-gun.” 

All eyes in the room snapped shocked to you. You shifted uncomfortably in place, but your gaze did not falter from where you were looking at Jake.

“How do you know that?”

You looked down at the ground, and hesitated before speaking again. 

“I have trained with guns I have found over time for a few years, sir. My dad and the other soldiers in the unit left manuals, training videos, ammo in the lockers. I have found it and learnt about it. I never expected to get an Avatar, but I did not want to be defenceless.”

Neteyam saw his dad and realised he can’t tell what he was thinking at the moment. A mixture of fear, confusion and awe was what he was able to spot. 

“Alright… what’s the caliber of this gun, kid?” 

“.50 caliber BAT.”

“Ok, walk me through the gun’s characteristics.”

You didn’t flinch under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Well, it has a camera sight on the top for better aim and targeting. It has a second grip for better firing stability and has a long barrel that allows for higher muzzler velocity. Like most weapons used by humans, it can also fire 0226-LSAR ammo, and a grande launcher can be attached to the second grip.”

Lo’ak’s face dropped, and although he had better control over his emotions, Neteyam realised he was also staring at her with a similar expression plastered on his face. 

“Did you ever shoot it?”

“No, I haven’t. I only shoot a standard 8mm handgun, in the woods next to the lab whenever everyone’s preoccupied or out. But I know how to clean it, field-strip it and load it.”

“So nobody knows you’ve been training on guns for years?”

“No, Sir.” 

“I can’t describe to you how stupid and dangerous this was. I didn’t think you of all people were prone to life-threatening idiocy.” 

You felt your gaze harden under his scrutiny and the familiar feel of anger bubbling in your stomach. 

“I’m not a little girl anymore. I will not stand and watch as the humans come back and ruin everything my mother’s fought for and I will not apologise for it.”

You saw Jake stand up, straighten his back and for the first time in your life, you feared the man sitting in front of you.

“Don’t you dare bring your mother into this. Your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to put your life in danger carelessly, getting involved in things you know nothing about. She asked me to take care of you, to teach you. All you had to do was fucking ask. All you had to do is come out of that damn lab and allow us to be part of your life, the way we have wanted to be for years.” 

You felt tears pricking at your eyes and without another word, you turned on your heels and left. 

You entered your tent and closed the flap shut as well as you could, half-considering using one of the suture kits that now resided in it to sew it together so no one can open it. You fell on your sleeping mat with a huff, and took hold of one of the books you have brought to your tent in the couple months you have been here. Your gaze stopped on one of your favourite poems, and repeated the lines to yourself, like a litany needing to be uttered.

“I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free——

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them   

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.”

You stared at the page for a long time, and let your mind wander. Why would he talk to you this way?

Because he cares about you. 

You thought he would be happy, proud of you for being strong, being independent and self-sufficient. You took care of yourself, you would be able to take care of others, of the people you loved. 

But maybe he doesn’t think you should have to do this by yourself. 

Why should you be ashamed of that? Ho doesn’t understand you, never tried to see things from your perspective. 

Maybe cause you never allowed him to know you enough to be able to understand.

He’s not your dad. He has no right to talk to you this way.

He wanted to be your dad, you just always kept him at arm’s length. You’ve always kept everyone at arms length.

You wanted to slap the version of yourself talking back to you. You really are such an annoying person, sometimes. And you hate that you make sense when you didn’t want to make sense. You wanted to be mad and tell him to keep his bossing around to his own children and leave you be, but you couldn’t. Not when the annoying you was right - Jake has tried to be your dad for a long time and you just couldn’t bring yourself to allow that kind of love in your life anymore, not after knowing what it’s like to lose it. 

A scream coming from the village pulled you out of your train of thought, and you made your way outside in a hurry. 

“Help! Help!!” 

You recognised the voice; Ewoaì, one of the most talented hunters of the village, was running holding a motionless body in his arms. His young brother, you noted. 

“He can’t breathe, he stopped breathing. Please, someone help! Where is the Tsahik?” 

Jake and the Sully boys emerged from inside their tent with a concerned look on all their faces. Neteyam spoke. “The Tsahik and tsakarem are away, at the Tree of Souls. They will not make it back in time.” 

Fuck, you thought. 

“Bring him here, NOW.” You spoke over the commotion. All the people who had gathered to see what was happening turned their gazes to you. Ewoaì ran to you. “Place him on the ground.” 

“Lo’ak.” You looked at the young boy, trying to assess the situation the best you could. You heard Lo’ak make his way towards you. 

“In my tent, there is gauze and disinfectant, it has the name 2% chlorhexidine isopropanol, find it and bring it. There should also be a yellow injection that says EPIPEN on it. Bring a syringe as well, no needle. Hurry.” 

You turned your attention to the man holding his younger brother in his arms. “Remove his necklace, now.” 

You started to check for signs of what was causing his asphyxiation. You opened his mouth and looked inside the best you could for food, or anything else that could be blocking his airways. You didn’t see anything. He didn’t seem to be having an anaphylactic shock; no rash and his heartbeat seemed strong. You were going to have to figure out the cause at a later time, but for now, your best bet, his best bet, was a tracheotomy. 

Lo’ak scrambled out of your tent, almost dropping some of the things on the way. He put them next to you in a hurry. 

You removed your hands from the boy’s body and moved quickly to apply some of the antiseptic on the gauze and wipe his throat with it. You got up, removed your knife from the holder on your chest, and made your way towards the nearest fire. You placed the blade over the fire and hoped that would do enough to sterilise it. For good measure, you also wiped it with the solution currently still on the gauze.

You made your way back to the boy and lifted your gaze to his brother. 

“This is going to hurt. I don’t have the tools to put him to sleep. I need you to hold him tightly by the arms. I need you to be strong for him. Strong heart. Neteyam, hold his feet. Don’t let go.”

You took your knife with one hand, whilst your other hand, tried to find the cricothyroid membrane, hoping it would be in a similar location to a human’s. Pushing the knife against his throat, you applied pressure and made a cut. The boy tried his best to recoil, but the men did a better job at keeping him down than you thought they would. You took the knife and placed it on the ground, then took the syringe Lo’ak gave you and hollowed it out. Carefully, you placed it inside the hole you made. You lowered your body and placed your mouth on the syringe. Sucking on it, you were relieved to feel air coming out, and you started breathing into the tube until you felt the boy starting to breathe again on his own. You removed yourself from his proximity and monitored until you were sure his breathing was stabilised. 

You let out a huge sigh of relief. You finally felt like you could look Ewoaì in the eye. “He’ll be fine.” 

His brother let out a shaky breath and extended his hand in front of you. Smiling softly, you took it in your own and felt his grip tighten at the contact. 

“Thank you. You saved his life. Thank you.”

“You can take him home. I’ll come by later and check on him, and if he’s breathing right, I’ll take it out.” 

You rose from the ground and tried to get your laboured breath to slow down. You did it. Tears started pooling in your eyes and you realise your hands were shaking when you went to wipe the them before they fell. Your attention turned to the Sully men waiting by your side. They all looked like they were -

-in awe. Neteyam was in awe. You were breathtaking. He heard this English word, angel, from his dad, a long time ago, and when he asked what it meant, his dad told him it was someone pure and good, who helps others and brings comfort in times of hurt…someone whose light can illuminate the darkest times. He didn’t know what that meant until he met you. You were an angel. There was so much hurt and darkness in you, but somehow you managed to spread light everywhere you went. No matter how hard life got, you never lost the desire to do good, to be good, and Neteyam didn’t think he could love you any more than he did right at that second. 

You gave him a quick look and he could see the fear in your eyes and the unshed tears, and the trembling hands. You were scared. Before he could move a muscle, Lo’ak took you and encircled his arms around you in a bear hug. You stood there in shock for a second while it registered, then slowly brought your hands up to his back to reciprocate the hug. You closed your eyes and nuzzled your head in his neck, and Neteyam moved his gaze to his feet, feeling the now all-too-familiar darkness of jealousy spread through him like poisonous gas. 

Eventually, Lo’ak let you go, and you moved closer to Jake. You were trying to meet his eyes, but he could tell you were scared… or ashamed. He saw you take a big breath and swallow audibly. 

“Jake, I am…”

“I know, Kid.” Neteyam was surprised to see his dad’s gaze, so angry and unflinching just 30 minutes ago, soften when his eyes looked at you. It was his turn now to hug you.

“You did good, kid.” 

You let out a soft cry and he saw the tears fall freely from your face. You smiled, and for the first time since you were back in his life, saw that you looked actually content. 

“Come.” Jake released you from the hug and made his way towards his tent. You followed suit and saw him picking up a gun from the floor and pointing at another. It was a standard assault rifle and you kneeled down next to it.

“Put it back together.” You did as you were told, skilfully putting each component of the weapon in its place. Before you moved on, you made sure everything was in order, and then you picked the appropriate 6.2x35mm 80-round magazine from the mix that was on the floor. You attached the magazine and took two more of them and placed them on your person. 

“Good. Let’s go.”

You and the three Sullys walked steadily for a while. Lo’ak and Jake went ahead while you and Neteyam stood back. He was close to you, too close, and you felt his right hand almost brushing yours. You looked up at him, and saw he was already watching you. His expression instantly sent shivers down your spine - it reminded you of how he used to look at you before. It was intense and soft and loving. You saw his eyes dropping to your lips, which parted in response and felt so exposed, so vulnerable… so fucking mad. He did not get to do this. He did not get to give up on you are like were a bad drug and then come back and give you this look. 

You expression hardened and you removed your eyes from his and stared at Jake’s back, which was all of a sudden a lot more interesting than it had been 5 seconds ago. You crossed your arms over your chest and walked in silence the rest of the way. 

You reached the spot soon after, and you noticed it was a similar training area, like the archery one, but this one had targets made of shrubbery that resembled a person, which had remnants of bullet holes in them. I see…

“Ok, kid, let’s see what you can do. Shoot the target in front of you, head and chest.” 

You took a big gulp and positioned your body. This was a lot of pressure, with the eyes of Toruk Makto and his heirs staring right at you. You took one last look at the weapon, then loaded it. You aim, then shoot. The gun surprises you a little, as you find the recoil a lot stronger than the handgun you usually practice on and the fire rate unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. Still, you adjust fairly quickly, then try again. Within 3 tries, you were able to hit the target exactly where Jake asked you to, and as to not waste any more ammo, you stop. 

Lo’ak is ululating and clapping, so happy for you, even though he was probably going to get in trouble for not being a better shooter than a girl who spent her whole life in a lab. He didn’t care. He loved seeing you do well, seeing you adapt. He couldn’t wait for the day you two would go on Ikran rides together and he could show you all the beauty of this world, the way you deserved.  

“I see. Neteyam, from now on, I want you both at gun practice and lessons, do you copy? She can learn everything else in the spare time, but I want her there. She’s way too good to waste on Pa’li training.”

“Yes, sir.” 

In the evening, you went by Ewoaì’s tent and checked on his younger brother. His airways were clear again so you were able to remove the syringe and stitch up the tracheotomy incision you performed earlier. You sat with them whilst inspecting the child’s condition. He wasn’t well. He had a fever and intermittent shortness-of-breath. His abdomen was in pain and he had a laceration forming on one of his calves. You made a note to bring some more supplies from the lab, and with that, took your leave. 

Dinner was pleasant, you ate with the Sullys in their tent, as you do most nights these days, and enjoyed the conversation that did not include you. It was nice to just be around their family and experiencing their tight-knit unit up close. There was laughter, and bickering, and animated discussions about what went on and what’s to come. Jake told Neytiri, Moat, Kiri and Tuk about Ewoaì and his brother, about the guns and the target practice, and they all looked at you with admiration. You blushed and thanked them, deciding the floor was particularly interesting tonight. 

“I think Y/N should sing for us! I haven’t heard her beautiful voice in such a long time!” Said Neytiri, smiling fondly

“Oh, I don’t have my guitar!”

You saw Neteyam’s eyes go wide, a rare sight for a man who prides himself on his composure. He stood up from his place around the fire pit, and went to a part of the tent that had a hidden nook in it; you’ve never seen what was there, but assumed there lay the family trinkets, Jake’s guns, clothes, etc. Neteyam came out from behind it holding… a guitar, you realised in shock. A big guitar, that would fit your new hands perfectly. Too stunned to speak, you just looked at him with your mouth agape, and he laughed at your expression. 

“This was supposed to go slightly differently, but alas, it’s as good a time as any to give this to you.” 

“It was supposed to be done for your birthday, but it took me a lot longer than I thought carving the wood.” 

Your eyes flickered between him and the guitar, and then turned to look at Kiri, who had a big smile and waited expectantly for your response.

“…you made this?”

“Well, me and Norm.” He looked almost bashful, and he reminded you so much of young Neteyam that your heart ached and you hoped you could prolong this moment forever. 

“He helped me with the design and the metal work, I had to hunt a few good animals to get the gut for the strings, but I think it turned out alright! He tried it and tuned it and it seemed to sound good, but I guess we’ll see when you play it.” 

You were still unsure what to say, unsure how to speak or form words or thoughts. 

“Neteyam, I don’t know what to say…”

“Say you’ll accept it? And that you’ll forgive me for what I said on your birthday? I really am a kurkung (asshole) sometimes, and I am sorry.” 

You nodded almost imperceptibly. His face broke out into a smile, a stupidly handsome smile that stopped your world and shifted it on its axis and you knew, you knew he was doing it, the impossible, he was getting you to forgive him, to forget the hurt and pain he put you through. And you hated yourself for being weak, but you also just allowed yourself a second, just a second to remember what it was like to have him in your life, have him radiate his warmth like he was the sun your soul orbited around.

“Will you sing now?” asked Tuk innocently, and you had to concede.

You toiled for a while with ideas of what song to pick. There was only one that came to mind in this exact moment, thinking of the man you still loved so much, loved as much as you did when you were 10 and he brought you the bracelet, at 13 when he took you on your very own magic carpet ride, at 16 when he held you while you cried in his arms after your dad, and every day in between, the man you needed like air, like that damn oxygen pack you hated, whose touch made you come alive and set your mind ablaze. 

You picked up the guitar and tuned the chords, slowly caressing them to get the sound just right. It was perfect, much better than the guitar you had at home. It was perfect. You started strumming a familiar song, that you never sang to them, to him, before, that you sang to yourself in that year apart and you wanted him to hear it, wanted him to know.

I have this dream you're doing cool shit

Having adventures on your own

You meet some woman on the internet and take her home

We never painted by the numbers, baby

But we were making it count

You know the greatest loves of all time are over now

You looked at him, and sang to him. He looked sad, like it was hurting him to watch you, hear you again. You used to play just for him all the time, singing feelings you never had the guts to say out loud, and here you were again, confessing something probably better left unsaid.

We were something, don't you think so?

Rosé flowing with your chosen family

And it would've been sweet

If it could've been me

In my defence, I have none

For digging up the grave another time

But it would've been fun

If you would've been the one

You finished the song and heard clapping from all around you and knew you had to acknowledge the others eventually. With a last look at Neteyam, you turned around and smiled and did a little hand curtsy as a joke. 

It was a good night.

You made your way to your tent quite late that night and you saw Lo’ak waving at you until you entered, placing your new guitar slowly on the ground. You lay down and tried your very best to fall asleep, which you felt was impossible, considering you were still reeling after the day you had. Eventually, sleep came, and you woke up back in the linkpod, with Norm’s face coming into focus slowly.

“Hey, Ace. How was your day?”

“Eventful, to say the least. One of the kids in the village needed an emergency tracheotomy. Thank God I had some supplies in the tent, which reminds me - I need to prepare more that I will come to pick up tomorrow, or you can drop to my tent if you make your way to the village.”

“Jesus. What the hell happened?”

“I think it’s this damn virus, Norm. I monitored the kid for an hour in the evening, his airways cleared, but he still had shortness of breath, a fever, gastrointestinal symptoms, and this weird laceration on his calf. His brother’s not sick, so the virus is not transmitted through air - at least I hope not, considering I shared the air in the tent with the guy for a while.” 

“Fuck. I will go check on him tomorrow and maybe take some blood. You can run some tests if you want to and have the time.” 

“I have some blood from someone else with similar symptoms. I will run the tests tonight, can’t really sleep anyway.”

“Ok, be careful, alright? This is not a joking matter, especially to us.” 

“Aye aye, Captain.”

You changed in some clothes better suited for a night working in the lab, put on your goggles, lab coat and gloves, and got to work. You were half paying attention to prepping the laminar flow hood and half thinking of the crazy day you had, thinking of Neteyam and his smile and his apology and ugh, you hated him. 

You didn’t realise you forgot to put a mask on in your distracted state, and with the hood prepped and ready to go, you removed the blood from the fridge where you kept it while everything you ready and made your way to your work station.

In a second, everything changed. That’s all it took, a second for your whole life to completely turn upside down, yet again. It always only took a second. A second for your mum to take her last breath, a second for you to fall off an Ikran, a second to step on your dad’s remains, a second to lose the love of your life, a second to watch the vial drop and shatter all over the floor, splattering blood all over your body and on your face, in your open mouth that screamed in shock at the instant loss of a future. 

Tag list: @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi