#i normally dont put so much effort into a piece but i wanted a cool new banner

[mishapen-dear]

look at them having a completely normal non-manipulative friendship what good friends they all are. look at those happy smiles and ignore the red lines im sure the red has no symbolism at all hahaha

#mishapen draws #qsmp #jaiden fanart #took a few days to figure out exactly what i wanted to do with this and im really happy with where it turned out :] #i normally dont put so much effort into a piece but i wanted a cool new banner #my fave detail is absolutely the little bits of red though #if you look very closely there's a little bit of red in the cucus smiles and eyes #(and a little bit of red on the arm behind cucurucho's back- hiding evidence) #and the red that emphasizes jaiden's smile is extra bright red #enjoy the island etc etc #i dont normally use texture backgrounds or leaf brushes but i totally get why people do holy crap they're SICK #the perfect lil bit of background noise hehe #i had a lot of trouble with the colours until i put a greyscale filter on everything and realized that jaiden's values blended her into #the bg. it got a whole lot easier when i paused to figure out the values and then added the colour #overall i think im happiest with jaiden's face though she just. she looks so happy #but that fucking red..... #okay tag ramble over godspeed nerds remember that if your colours look fucked up you may just need to experiment with the values

[bye-bye-firefly]

Helloo! So, I’ve been wondering, how do you like to take notes? Like, what’s your note taking style in general? And how do you like to write your character and language study stuff? I’ve been kinda curious about it for a bit since you mention that you have these things and stuff sort of often. Like I think it’s been in the back of my mind since that time you mentioned in your notes that you write character studies in a journal. My mind kinda just latched onto that specific detail, most likely because I think physically writing stuff down is really cool and I could never.

(Hopefully this doesn’t sound too awkward? I’m really sleepy and my mind has been very jumpy today but I tried to sound normal, not sure if I succeeded)

no its so totally chill so basically i have like. MADNESS. im cutting this post up because i basically did a brain dump and its so long.

its pure and utter madness in this fucking journal there are clear notes and bullets and i mostly just dedicate pages upon pages depending on the length of the media, the complexity of the character, the amount of change throughout the series like. okay. for example. in my succession character study i have it set up so every character has 5 pages because theyre all pretty static and dont require a lot of notetaking because what i can observe from them is almost always set in stone, a base reaction from the character. drv3 however each character got 10 pages because 1) drv3 is long and its a lot of fucking text to go through 2) characters, even past their death, are referenced and spoken about and have things revealed about them a lot AND 3) the characters are REALLY dynamic and lots of events happen that change the characters in either slight or big ways that i need to note down and explain to myself WHAT EXACTLY caused this change and what the change was. other than these big moments i like to put down moments that i think are interesting or stand out to me upon revisiting the piece of media so when i first go through something it might not stand out because i dont have the knowledge that something is going to happen but upon rewatch or replay im like Wait a second. and this is why i never go into something and immediately start doing analysis because if i did that i would never notice the things that im meant to notice when doing a deep dive into a character

but on length again it really depends what im going into right. if youre going into a text-based 100+ hour game then you probably want to dedicate a lot of pages and time to understanding the characters than if it was like. a 5 season show with 10-14 episodes that are each an hour long. of course this also depends because breaking bad and succession are a similar length but breaking bad has way more dynamic characters than succession. in fact breaking bad is ALL moving parts so making a character study about breaking bad i would probably put all the characters down and dedicate like 8-10 pages per character and that might be overdoing it for some.

but other than characters its also important to recognise that the characters are in a setting. so what causes them to behave the way they do in this setting and do i know what best replicates it. drv3, theyre in a killing game. kokichi ouma would not act the way he does if he wasnt in a killing game and this is extremely important to recognise. kokichi mostly acts like he does because hes in a life-or-death situation and the way he behaves is him coping and keeping himself safe from other people. however, its also him hiding what hes planning so that things can go off without a hitch and without anyone stopping him because ultimately, he wants to end the killing game. he thinks that working with people is way too much effort and its way too complicated and it makes things harder and worse but most importantly, its just not for him. like hes ultimately fine with other people working together, but fuck the notion that he should work with anyone. hes boy genius and also thats so much work ON TOP OF doing the amount of work he was already doing. but outside of the killing game, this whole thing would just drop like theres nothing to work towards anymore. sure hes going to keep lying but maybe not be so cagey or brattish or rile people up as much as he does or as HORRIBLY as he does because theres no point to it. hes not in a life-or-death situation anymore so that act should just crumble. it would take a bit of work but yeah that facade should fall away and leave this joking prankster teenage boy. and a lot of people who dont like kokichi (not most not all just a lot) did not pay attention to the game and took everything at face value much like shuichi and i dont BLAME them i mean its kind of hard to read kokichi and figure out what the fuck hes talking about or what he means by the things he says like it took me a LONG FUCKING TIME to TRULY get kokichi. i had to do my character study before i actually truly understood him and now hes just in my head forever. like i will never let go of him. hes the best and i love him. but yeah you have to think about these things like why is this character like this and what IN THE SETTING causes this or AMPLIFIES this. likeeeee this is kind of a spoiler but tom is super into acting big and macho and very masculine right? at work he acts like The Man and he very clearly wants to play archetypal 1950s husband to his housewife, shiv, but shiv is never going to BE that. he knows this but he doesnt WANT to recognise this so he seeks this elsewhere through his work with greg. thus the tomgreggers win BUT ALSO we get to see two sides of tom: tom when he is sensitive and emotional and tom when he is playing up his machismo because he cannot stand NOT DOING THAT. thats like tom's THING. he is a midwestern boy who is in his 40s who grew up on this dream that he was the man of the house and therefor he was the most specialest man in the whole wide world to this wife that would make him dinner and fuck him and do whatever he pleased but he DIDNT get that and he is NOT THAT GUY. tom is INCREDIBLY sensitive and you can visibly see when he is anguished or excited to see someone (mostly greg) or depressed. he wouldnt be this way if he wasnt in this setting (running a right-wing news network that THRIVES on these values) or with the people he was with (most notably, a father in law who he wants to show respect to and receive respect from for the ENTIRETY of the show)

okay so character and setting and its impact. other than that WHAT ELSE. so a lot of the other stuff that i then look through is like. extra tidbits that i notice. my current succession character study has a list of chapters. so i have each character and their pages listed out for quick navigation (yes this means i number the pages) i have a 2 page tidbits section and then i have an INFINITE AMOUNT of researching pages. because nothing ever just stops at The Character Study no no no. i have researched:

shakespeare and what makes something shakespearean (took like. a few days? really wasn't that hard it was a well researched topic)

succession speak (i did this while i watched the show so i did some multitasking while doing character studies. updating kendall's page while also talking about his usage of buzzwords)

cops (fic specific dont worry its all bad as expected)

for drv3 i researched a lot of mental disorders, i did research into trauma, specifically for nameless (because that was ALWAYS what i was gearing up for) i originally did a lot of research into fbi and catching murderers so a lot of reading but then i pivoted and did research into non-euclidean structures, the language of horror (meaning i just read a lot of horror and took notes), and then i did The Action Plan.

The Action Plan brings everything together and is specific to me this is not necessarily essential for understanding the characters nor is the extra studying that has nothing to do with the piece of media. like succession requires that i research shakespeare and how they talk but it doesnt require me to know how the police work or what they think of themselves. the action plan is mostly for me to figure out what the hell i actually want to do. the action plan is also the place where i put down a final answer as to how i want to end the BIG FIC that im planning. for the drv3 character study, i do in fact have nameless' planned ending written down and it has surprisingly not really changed all that much aside from the weird bullshit that i wanted to throw in on top of the weird bullshit that is already going on in nameless. a lot of the time the action plan contains what i want the fic to end on.

right here im going to delve into writing advice because i love this shit and i know that people struggle with this okay If you. DON'T. Want to go into a story blind and want to plan it through and want to start with the ending (always what i recommend). Do NOT. Write the ending in the abstract. what i mean by this is like an ending to a story is almost always an arc. like. everything everywhere all at once the ending is a very drawn-out sequence taking place across a bunch of universes but ultimately are leading to the same thing: evelyn keeping joy around, and this means two things: keeping her in her life or alive at all. this is not an abstract ending. this is set in stone and pans out beautifully with the mixture of universes all in play. the ending is that evelyn gets to keep her daughter, joy, around in her life and saves every single world in existence. a different more abstract way to view the movie is that it begins with evelyn filing taxes in a stressful environment, extremely bitter and feeling alone on her father's birthday. it ends with evelyn doing taxes with her family. I may not remember this right so dont correct me this is what i remember BUT!!!! thats not the point the point is that its an incredibly abstract way to view the movie when thats not what the point of it all IS. the point of the whole movie is for evelyn to realise she fucked up A LOT and that doesnt make her a horrible person but it does mean she has to apologise and that joy DOES deserve an apology and joy DESERVES to live and she has to save her because she is her mother and she loves her and she is willing to be better if it means that joy gets to live or stay in her life. THATS the point but you miss the point when you frame it in that abstract way so endings always have to be very set in stone and multiple events, an entire ARC because that determines how you're going to write THE ENTIRE THING and what things you choose to include or remove. like if nameless ends with kaede killing everyone and the world exploding theres no reason for me to include these really hopeful messages and send the reader off course or to include symbols of love and immortality because that doesnt make sense when it ends the way that it does. even if it DID make sense it sends a WHOLE other message. even through hope, it is hopeless <- not the message i intended but because i wrote the ending the way i did, people are going to interpret it this way. this is also why im not a fan of my older work, propaganda, having like. multiple endings. because there really truly honestly is no reason why i decided to make it have 3 different endings other than I couldn't decide on one because I didn't plan the ending out before I started writing the story.

This is why the action plan exists. my osomatsu san character analysis is lacking this action plan most likely because i kept it somewhere else probably online but it doesnt matter because i dont REMEMBER it existing so it probably DIDNT exist. i can remember my nameless action plan that was 2 years ago (yes i went and checked to make sure) i didnt even remember i wrote other drv3 fics other than the multichapters out now and a good song never dies SO WHAT IS GOING ON THERE. if i am not referring to the action plan then im clearly not going to have a good grasp on what the hell is going on in there

of course those that may know me are reading this like "you dont plan. your stories" And they're right. I don't. the action plan section is solidifying how i view the characters, what i think should happen with them because i LOVE juggling plot lines, but most importantly, the ending. a solid REAL ending not an abstract version of it or an idea i mean like REAL SOLID FOUNDATION. as an example for the nameless ending IM NOT ABOUT TO TEL LYOU HOW NAMELESS ENDS DONT WORRY i have it set up so that i have the setting, the major event that happens, the effect of this, the aftermath with all the characters, and then if i want a key detail in there that i think is important. this comes FIRST. ALWAYS. i can only ever start with the ending when im planning a story because otherwise i have no idea what to do with all the other moving parts and i add too many variants and then i end up with 3 different endings and i cant choose because im indecisive and ive put out TOO MANY SIGNS there are TOO MANY WAYS this could end for the readers.

but yeah. i mean i make it sound way more complicated than it is but i mean this so seriously doing character studies are so fun. i love immersing myself in a piece of media. this is a real fucking story i got so deep into drv3 character study that i started laughing like kokichi. and that lasted for a few weeks or something i dont remember. but really doing character studies is all up to how YOU do it. its important to note that when im going through a piece of media for analysis, i first comb through the parts that are most important for me to understand a character. so drv3 the character hangouts, their chapters where they shine the most, important scenes that i can remember off the top of my head, and then i go through the whole thing over again. im doing this with succession right now though its kind of hard because succession is a very all killer no filler show so choosing the MOST IMPORTANT episodes is based entirely on who is important and what important moment happens and if that affects EVERYONE. i will have to watch through succession again and i will have to see what i missed, if i missed anything, which is likely a no. you can do whatever notetaking style you want, whatever works for you, but i love doing brain dumps and then going back and highlighting what is important to me for quick reference. im just not a very organised person and im not ever going to become one so i might as well embrace it and work around it right if plans bore me i might as well do things on the seat of my pants because thats the only way to keep me engaged

VERY sorry this was so long but i love talking about this stuff and i love dumping my brain out. this is very therapeutic for me i think

#fae's asks #authorisms

[wurmeatworld]

As an artist, I think ai art is a very complex issue. Yes it can be used as a tool to advance creativity, but capitalism ultimately twists it so that it is not used ethically.

I like some ai generated memes. Its really funny to watch Joe Biden banter with Leon S Kennedy, or watch deepfakes of Preminger singing Lady Gaga. But I feel like the same humor could be achieved without the use of ai. You could splice together lines ala ytp or animate Preminger singing. It just requires more time and skill, and thats really the draw of ai. Ai helps a greater pool of people do things they normally couldnt do because it cuts out the work.

The capability to expand what people can do and create is good! I once followed a disabled person on tumblr who made ai art for personal use because his disability meant he couldn't draw. Ive also used ai art generators in the past, back when the results were super uncanny and whacky, to generate funny images or interesting eldritch horror-y art. If ai art wasn't built upon so much stolen art, that'd be a completely beautiful thing. Id love to donate my art to an ai program that only trains on explicitly donated work. I think thatd be really cool. But most people Ive seen making ai art and ai art generators are tech bros who only care about end results and money instead of appreciating the intent, technique, and artistry that artists pour into their work. And of course, not giving two shits about us getting paid.

Ive seen people make ai to intentionally copy the works of particular artists. It's almost indistinguishable from their art style, and to me, that feels insulting. These artists put so much work into their art, only for someone to churn out much more art in their style, and faster. Copying art you like has always been a thing among artists, to pay homage to creators and to learn new things by studying, but these ai art pieces that explicity train on an artists work and replicate their style feel... really hollow. Wheras among most artists, their replication comes from a place of respect and admiration, and requires truly learning and following the techniques an artist used, ai art just pulls from already existing assets with no real direction to guide it except a simple prompt. Theres no respect for the artist here, just someone who wants more of an artists work but doesnt actually care about the artist themself.

The amount of labor you need to create ai art vs regular art, and how ai art steals work from artists, is a discussion all on its own. This doesnt really have an easy black and white solution because of capitalism. In a world where we wouldnt need money to survive, it wouldnt really matter that ai art takes less effort to make because it wouldnt infringe on artists livlihoods. But as it is, and especially in our "quantity and familiarity over quality" consumerist culture, the attention it takes from artists can cause loss of revenue, and people offering ai art commissions only hurt artists more. The most popular areas of the internet already arent great platforms for artists, even though were forced to use them. Our culture doesnt really value our work, and most artists offer their work for ridiculously low prices just to sell anything at all. My pixel art commissions are $9. $9 for hours of sitting at my computer, working and shaping and reworking the pixels until theyre just right. Color, position, everything has a lot of time, care, and skill put into it. I wish I could charge double what I pay, but I have an extremely small platform, so Im forced to charge barely anything at all. If we did not need money to survive, it wouldnt be that big of a deal. But we do. So it is.

And as things stand, even disregarding the problem of capitalism, theres just too many harmful ways ai can be exploited because theres barely any regulation. The deepfaked nudes, the easy misinformation, etc. I personally dont think regulation will be enough bc the base problem is caused by capitalism, and tbh I think media literacy plays a huge part, but there still needs to be. Its just an incredibly dangerous technology as it stands right now.

Also worth noting, is how algorithms can easily lead to radicalization. A study came out showing that new tiktok users who watch certain "gateway" content will gradually be shown more and more extremist stuff. (Source: x *) Especially on social media sites, which are designed to promote controversial posts because theres more engagement, this can lead to someone potentially becoming part of a hate group. I bet theres ways algorithms could be written to prevent this, but everyone wants money, so its probably not gonna change anytime soon. Consumerism is a bitch.

Also, algorithms promote the most commonly accepted ideas, which causes bias and can cause social and scientific progress to become stagnant at best, and actively harmful at worst.

Basically, ai needs to be better regulated, capitalism sucks, and ai art is a whole can of worms. I feel like humanity needs to keep ai art on the highest shelf until we can work out the ethical dilemmas we already have.

(This was originally a comment I left on this video, but I put a lot of thought into it so I thought I'd repost it here. Please watch the video, it brings up more ideas on ai and is just a fun watch)

*Its a youtube video and the info is compressed and presented quickly, but sources are all linked.

#ai art #ai art generator #ai #anti capitalism #capitalism #artists on tumblr

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. ok but thats also i think i dont get? because without the series or character names, what of any of the promo images or banner or anything else give away it's supposed to be a greek mythology story? they just look like people with weird anatomy who are colored like highlighters. at the very least some iconography should be on them, but there's not? like even percy jackson stuff makes sure to give him a trident and have water flowing around him.

2. rachel made three times where persephone could have made the choice to be with hades willingly and didnt do it each time. first time she was drugged and put into his car, where he phsyically handles her unconscious body and puts her in his bed (ew). second is her working for him, which was hera forcing it. third was her going to the underworld not because she wanted to, but because she was hiding from the law/apollo and he found her. where exactly is her agency in all of this?

3. LO seems like the fast food of webtoons. because there's no room to speculate or theorize, you just read an episode and move on, the bright colors distract that it's a rushed and lazy product over something with high quality and effort, the characters are flat and boring, and the plot has no substance. it's meant to be consumed in a rapid binge, because if not you realize what low-effort and what little you're actually getting from it when you slow down and actually think about it.

4. i mean rachel does have some logic to her fancasting, the problem is it seems the only people of color are either demonized for being hypersexual (aphrodite, eros until he's with psyche) or are literally r//pists who are out to harm her white-fa casted persephone (apollo), so yeah, there is logic there, it's just pointing to rachel being (hopefully unintentionally) racist

5. It pisses me so much that I work over time  (using references and looking at paintings and reading history for ideas for interesting character motifs) so that any of the ancient greek characters I draw look cool and authentically greek, and yet fucking Rachel Smythe, who can't even be bothered to do more than 5 seconds of research to learn that not all ancient greek outfits were shitty, minimalist off white and eggshell, gets to be revered as an artistic revolutionary. It pisses me off so. Fucking. Much. Not just for me, but for everyone else like me who absolutely ADORES greek mythology and wants to draw accurate portrayals of these characters! To whoever is reading this, stop. Stop rn and go read Sleep and His Brother Death (a comic on webtoons), go play Hades (the video game), go read The Song of Achilles (a book by Madeline Miller). Those are beautiful pieces of fiction about Greek mythology that deserve your attention more then Rachel and her shitty pink highlighter self inserts.

And a sidenote, I know that this is kinda like a modern AU for the gods. I am aware. Does not change that fact that anytime any character is drawn in ancient greek fashion it's always the SAME. SHITTY. CHITON. Maybe with a.cape or a scarf, but for the most part? It's just the same stupid, off white chiton.

6. oh, i thought you guys were joking persephone is now stuck with red eyes. is that seriously what look we're stuck with now? does rachel know it looks really ugly?

7. i feel like the lineart less style actually hurts LO in a way. way too often you can look at a panel and it becomes really murky where something starts and ends, and it looks even worse on a phone screen, because on an even smaller screen the images look even more compressed, making it even harder to tell stuff apart. this wouldnt be as bad if the comic took back up its more high contrast look from the begging, but now it's all one flat shade and im not sure why.

8. im really confused over the marketing of LO, tbh. like the ads are all hxp focused, but the series name implies its not about them, but focusing on the 12 olympians, but then the synopsis is general mythology and at the very end randomly mentions its about persephone? but then you read it and nots sure whether its a teen romance, a comedy, a serious drama, and can't stay straight with its messaging and timeline? and persephone is not there for a chunk of time. like whats actually going on?? 😭

9. Chapter 173 is like 50% filler. It gives more questions that answers, and not just from the reporters. Like the reporter stuff was mostly filler, and the Persphone and Hades stuff was like yeah we know dont need to drag this on.

My questions are WHAT ARE THE RED EYES? Is it when she’s mad? Horny? Sad? Happy? I feel like the red eyes just show up whenever RS wants to draw them

Flying? I feel like Persphone has always been flying like it wasn’t a bug moment at all. She flew home when Minthe and Hades kissed. But apperently Demeter didn’t know? I guess I don’t remember her flying in the mortal realm but her flying didn’t seem like a big moment, none of the other characters seemed surprised by it.

“Answer mine first!” When i got to that line I reread some of it just to find where the question was. That line normally matters when you’ve already asked the question not if you haven’t gotten there yet. Like of course Demeter is gonna be worried and ask a million questions.

I know the pomegranate pin is gonna be important but I felt the focus on it was a little too much, like an excuse not to cover more this chapter. Because honestly it felt like 5 minutes of the plot was covered in this chapter. 

10. So uh, whats up with Hades weird ass comments... Like "Persephone you look beautiful and if someone says otherwise they can go play on the highway" ???

Because Persephone looking good during a murder trial is clearly the most important thing here.

Also, Perse's response to the reporter who asked her about her friendship with Hades. I mean, on one hand Persephone is right, her "friendship" (or whatever it is they have going on) is nobodies business but her own - but at the same time, its kinda also the underworld denizens right to know in the sense that their future leadership could be affected so they might want to know whats going on if their getting a new co-ruler / Queen that they will be subjects of. They probably will want to know who Persephone is, should she and Hades get married because it's very likely that when (cause lets be real its a 'when' not 'if' they get married) they do get married that Persephone will inherit half the title.

So, eh?

#anti lo #anti lore olympus #lore olympus critical #lo critical

[legionofpotatoes]

we decided to watch all story cutscenes from the new resident evil village videogame on a whim, since it’s not really our cup of tea gameplay-wise but seems to be this massive zeitgeist moment that made us morbidly curious. And I know how much everyone cares about my thoughts on things I know very little about, so. let’s get into it huh gamers. and yeah spoilers?

for context, I’ve only played resident evil 4 and a small portion of 5. I also read the wikipedia entry for 7’s plot recently. all this to say I was only vaguely aware of how tonally wacky the series was going in

I also completely gave up following the plot of the mutagens’ soap opera, so that paid off in spades here as you might imagine

anyway so that baby in the intro. that baby’s head is just massive. humongous toddlerdome. when ethan finds the baby’s head in a jar later on. there is no way that head would fit into that jar. bad game design. no not even game design. basic stuff. one hundred years in prison for jar modeler

if I see a single functional hetero marriage in video games I will cry tears of joy. I understand their misery is kind of The Point irt them badly working through the hillbilly romp trauma but like. sheesh. at least set that up as an emotional story goal the plot will help resolve. but nope they start off miserable and it goes nowhere

I know I know the mia thing has a huge wrinkle in it but like. not really in terms of dramatic function?? set up a happy end to the re7 nightmare (miranda can keep up appearances for all she cares) and then take that all away from angry griffin mcelroy for manpain. it will still absolutely work to set up the dramatic forward momentum. why throw in this cliche Hollywood Tension in their marriage if you’re not going to address it oh maybe because it’s normalized as automatically interesting because nuclear families are a self-propagating pit of a very narrow chance at emotional happiness relying on social stigma to preserve their empty function oops my baggage slipped in yikes abort mission

I called him griffin mcelroy because I saw his face on twitter and. yeah. I will continue to do this occasionally. my house my rules

... fuck the reason I’m hung up on this is specifically because the rest of the game is so tonally dexterous (which is a shining point to me! more on that later!), and yet they felt weirdly compelled to create the aesthetic trapping of a family-at-odds trope without following it through too well. a sign of both the good and the bad stuff to come

but listen the real reason why I wanted to talk about any of this is to nitpick the fascinating backwards-engineered nucleus of the entire thing; in that this game essentially creates a melting pot of just SO many disparate horror tropes and then makes a no-holds-barred unhinged effort at weaving thick lore to piece them all together. it is truly a sight to behold. like straight up you got your backwoods fright night situation, your gothic castle vampires, your rural-industrial werewolves, and don’t forget your bloated swamp monsters over there, with then a hard left turn into robotic body horror, and the entire ass subgenre of Creepy Doll writ large, and the bloodborne tentacle monsters, and a hellboy angel bossfight, which rides on the coattails of a mech-on-mech pacific rim bonanza, and just jesus henry christ slow down

almost all of these are textural hijack jobs that don’t really get into the metaphor plain of any of those settings but the game sort-of makes an argument that the texture IS the point and revels in it. It is kind of admirable almost. The same reason why the intro felt boxed in and unmotivated is also why the rest of the game just blasts off of its hinges to the point of complete and self-indulgent tonal abandon. I kinda loved that about it. lady dimitrescu made sure to hold her hat down as she bent forward in mahogany doorways and then suddenly she’s a giant gore dragon and you settle in your temp role as dark souls man with Gun to take her ass down. Excellent??

this rhino rampage impulse to gobble up every horror aesthetic known to man comes to head when the game wrestles with its FPS trappings in what is the most hilarious solution in creating visceral player damage moments. Since most cinematics and the entire game is in first person, that leaves precious little real estate for the devs to work with if they really want to sell griffin’s physical crucible. To wit. This dude’s forearms. Specifically just the forearms. They are MASSACRED throughout the story. The poor man lives out the silent hill dimension of a hand model. by the end cutscene he looks like a neatly dressed desk clerk who had decided to stick both his grabbers into garbage disposal grinders just a few hours prior. like in addition to everything else it manages to rope in that tinge of slapstick violence into its general grievous genre collection except this time it IS for a lack of trying! truly incredible

but wait his miracle clawbacks from everything his poor paws go through are retroactively explained away, yes, but far too vaguely and far too late to console me as I sat and watched everyone’s favorite baby brother reattach an entirely severed hand to his wrist stump by just. placing it on there. and giving it a lil twist ‘n pop terminator-style. and then willing his fingers back into motion right in front of my bulging eyes. this game just does not care. it does not give a shit. and boy howdy will it work to make that into one of its strongest suits

cause generally speaking resident evil was THE premiere vanilla zombie content destinaysh for like a decade, right? and as the rest of the world and mainstream media started encroaching and bloodying its blue ocean it went and just exploded in every single conceivable horror trope direction like a smilodon on catnip. truly, genuinely fascinating franchise moves

yeah the big vampire milf is hot. other news; grass... green. although I do love the implication that her closet is just identical white dresses on a rack. cartoon network-level queen shit

apropos of nothing I’ve said there’s also this hobo dante-devimaycry-magneto man, and I can’t believe this sentence makes sense. anyway he made that “boulder-punching asshole” joke referring to chris redfield and it was probably the only easter egg that really landed for me and boy did it land hard. I have not seen him punch the boulder in re5, mind. I had only heard about how funny it is from friends. and here this dude was, probably in the same exact mindset as me, trying to grapple with that insane mental image. with you on that ian mckellen, loud and clear

I advocate vehemently against the shallow pursuit of hyper photorealism in art direction but I gotta admit it works really in favor of immersive horror like this. the european village shacks especially gave me super unchill flashbacks to my rural countryside retreat in western georgia. I could smell the linoleum dude. not cool

faces are weird in this game. can’t place it. nice textures, good animation, but the modeling template is... uuh strange? and the hair. it has that clustered-flat-clumpy look that harkens to something very specific and unpleasant but I just don’t know what. sue me

griffin’s mental aptitude to take all this shit in stride and end every seemingly traumatizing bossfight involving some fucking eldritch being yet unseen through mortal eyes by essentially throwing out an MCU quip is just. What the fuck dude? I mean that was funny how you casually yelled the f-word at a god damn werewolf that you considered a fairy tale an hour ago but are you like, all right?? it was swinging a sledgehammer the size of a bus at you, ethan

oh oh the vampires are afraid of cold and your last name is winters. I get it haha

Pro Gamer Nitpick: boss fights seemed a bit unnecessarily long?? idk why the youtuber we picked decided the ENTIRE propeller man fight counted towards the vital story scenes he was stitching together, but man mr big daddy lite there really had some get up and go huh??

why are they saying dimitrescu.. like that. is it really how you say that word or is the english language relapsing into its fetish for ending every single word with a consonant at all costs

I’m not saying it’s a dramatic miss of a twist in context of all that’s going on, but the “you died in the last game actually and have been DC’s clayface ever since” revelation is low-key. it’s. it’s just funny to me, I dont know what to say. century-old god-witch fails her evil plan after she mistakenly removes heart from what was definitely NOT just some white guy with eight fingers after all

chris realizing he’s about to become the player character and immediately swapping out his tsundere trenchcoat for the muscletight sex haver sweater

the little bluetooth speaker-sized pipe bomb he taped to his knife was nuclear?? really??? I must have missed something because that is just too good. I buy it though I totally buy it. chris just got them fun-sized nukes in his car trunk for, you guessed it, Situations

anyway this is all for now just wanted to briefly touch on how unexpectedly funny and tonally irreverent this seemingly serious game turned out to be. did not articulate any cathartic story beats whatsoever but my god it had fun connecting those plot points. he just fucking put his severed hand back on his stump and it Just Worked todd howard get in here

#text #another one in my bulleted review series with no rhyme or reason #sorry resident evil fans this could be a painful read pls turn away #i know almost nothing about it but i am gonna be super fake familiar and critical of this one hey ho

[hellerism]

I want an essay on #12)

12. symbolism: tell me about some cool symbolism in spn! your pick

*puts on my english major hat* im about to put more effort into this than anything ive ever written for college. ok top 10 supernatural symbolism...this isnt in any particular order its just whatever i think of first. also it might not be actual top 10 im just remembering random shit. this has gotten out of hand so im putting it under a read more

1. the most obvious one, the impala. many have discussed this before me and im probably just repeating what others have said, but the impala is an extension of deans body/a representation and mirror of both his physical and mental state. obviously the impala gets destroyed in the season 1 finale when dean is dying. and he rebuilds it in season 2, while he is trying to regroup and rebuild from the death of his father. ive seen a post about how dean losing it and smashing the impala is a metaphorical form of self-harm which is :(( also, the impala staying covered and hidden away while dean is living with lisa and ben with this reading is so interesting. i do think dean loved the idea of a normal life with lisa and ben more than the reality (not that i dont think he loved them! any scene with dean and ben makes me soft). but this also makes it that much sadder because supernatural considers dean unable to live a life that doesnt involve hunting; the impala is hidden and dean is a shell of his real self. in season 7, they once again have to hide the impala away and use other cars. the impala is gone and hidden away; something is wrong. dean is hurting. he isnt his full self. why? whats missing during that time? cas. and in season 10, when dean is a demon, he stops caring for the impala. you know, because something is wrong with him. because hes a demon.

2. dean knocking over and breaking the angel statue in the beautiful room. he makes it fall with a single touch, hardly a push. and all it took cas was a single touch for him to fall and break. dean, of course, doesnt mean to shatter cas, though he does mean to make him fall. dean repeatedly argues with cas, acting as the human opposite to cas’ emotionless faith in heaven, pushing him toward the edge, pushing him to rebel, pushing him to choose humanity. and it works; cas learns to love through dean, and through that he rebels against heaven and falls in “every way imaginable.” and when he hits the ground, he breaks, shattering all his faith in god and everything, leading into the godstiel arc as he tries to put his pieces back together.

3. the streetlight as a halo over cas’ head in on the head of a pin. it flickers when anna appears, which is physically meant to show her power. however, it also shows cas’ wavering faith in heaven. interesting how anna, the angel who chose humanity over heaven and decided to fall, is the one making cas’ halo flicker. he is beginning to question things. he is beginning to feel. he is beginning to fall.

4. deans leather jacket in the first few seasons. its not actually dean’s, of course. it belonged to john. dean picks it up and puts it on while he and sam are searching for him, physically shouldering the weight of johns expectations of him. its too big on him. and dean is 26 at that point. hes well past done growing; he’ll never fit perfectly into that jacket. no matter what he does, he’ll never fit perfectly into johns expectations: the perfect son, the perfect soldier. and leather jackets are heavy even if they fit well. there is a physical weight on his shoulders now, a manifestation of the weight of the world and the weight of being a parent for his younger brother and everything john has piled onto dean since he was a child. he eventually stops wearing it (bc some absolute legend stole it irl), and i wish they’d taken that as an opportunity to have dean grow out of the shadow of his father, but supernatural is a bad show so they didnt.

5. mary, who just happens to be named after the mother of jesus. the perfect wife, the loving mother, the tragic figure, the victim, clad in white, the color of innocence. except shes not. she was raised a hunter. shes lived the bloody dark side of the world hidden from most. she loved her children, but she wasnt a perfect wife and mother. she didnt know how to cook. she and john fought, and he even moved out for a few days, and she needed her four-year-old son to comfort her. she is not the virginal mother; shes an imperfect person just trying to do her best. the dabb-era deconstruction of the very concept of mary makes me crazyyyyyyy if you couldnt tell.

6. these shots from 9.14 captives

in the first shot, we have a statue of cupid over cas’ left shoulder and a cross over his right. and in the second shot, there is a bible on the right side of the table, and nothing on the left. and cas turns to the left. he turns away from god, continuously choosing to turn away from stability and what he always knew in favor of love and humanity. there is nothing on the left side of the table precisely because there is nothing certain in cas’ future with humanity, but he chooses them anyway. plus, cas inventing free will by falling in love with dean retroactively makes this shot that much better; there is nothing on the left side of the table precisely because there is nothing written for him. cas falling in love with dean created an empty space in gods story. this show is pure fucking insanity oh my god.

7. serafina the angel (the pantheistic view in that episode makes me crazy but we wont get into that). serafina, whose name is audibly similar to seraph, the class of angel that cas is. coincidentally, the only seraphim we see in the show are cas, who falls in love with dean, and akobel, who married lily sunder. serafina, who fell in love with adam, the literal progenitor of humanity. and who is the character in supernatural that has always stood for humanity as a whole? dean. serafina literally had me convinced that deancas would happen in the finale.

8. the removal of -iel from cas’ name. dear god this one drives me crazy and i doubt it was on purpose. castiel, the shield of god. for eons he existed as a warrior and tool of god. and then along comes dean winchester, who does a very human thing. he gives him a nickname. cas. he removes the “of god” part. he removes god from cas, because dean doesnt value him for being a good soldier or a good son. he values him simply because hes cas. and cas questions everything, his loyalty to heaven, his blind faith that god would one day return. he is no longer a warrior of god. he is simply cas, the shield, and this time he chooses to be a shield for humanity, for the winchesters, for dean. for the michael sword. the shield protects the sword. cas dies shielding dean. this got off topic but its just sooo insane.

9. this shit from 2.13 houses of the holy. i know it was an unplanned coincidence but jesus christ.

10. ...lamp. i know i know but it still boggles my mind. the completely out of place tap dance that they had to spend time and money on to train two actors who had never tap danced before. the lamp being a source of light. divine light. cas. the whole thing being set to the song lets misbehave. WHY LAMP.

#this took me over an hour #are some of these a stretch? maybe. but what is literary analysis other than stretching media way past what the author intended? #ask

[oddduckthatgirl]

Piece by Piece

Summary: You take care of the things you love

Words: 1,118

WARNINGS: Anxiety, MaleDom/Female Sub, Cg/Lg(if you squint), talks of impact play, collaring. IF IT UPSETS YOU DONT READ IT!

A/N: Hey all, the muse just keeps speaking. As usual, like/comment/reblog. There is a second part, possibly third on the way. Thank you for reading!

Tags: @littlefreya @viking-raider @dancingwendigo @mary-ann84 @madbaddic7ed @snowbellexx @madelinelina @iloveyouyen @ly–canthrope @locked-emotions @summersong69 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @fuckoffbard @fourmarkdove

It all started out wrong. You felt off all day, not sick, but like something was missing. It didn’t help that your boss basically screamed at you for not understanding what he wanted. You just needed to get this last thing finished before you’d be off with Henry. 

The more you tried to talk, the more he told you how wrong you had it. You felt like you we’re going to throw up. You must have looked like it because he stopped his tirade and asked if you were feeling well. 

He even sent you home for the rest of the day and gave you tomorrow off. Can’t be too sure with your health, that’s what he said. Even apologized for his outburst saying clearly you were exhausted and not feeling well and he had no right to be so harsh. That you deserved a little break. 

You officially had the longest weekend off you’ve ever had so why did it feel like a punishment?

You texted Henry so he knew what was going on. He texted back to tell you he had some things to finish up but that he should be home before six, which was a treat. He wanted you to be ready and he would take care of you. 

You two have been together for a little over three years, married for the last few months. It was so natural if it weren’t for the ceremony you wouldn’t have thought anything changed. From the very beginning with him, he said all he wanted was to take care of you and keep you happy and healthy. 

You hadn’t been dating for more than six months when the topic of previous relationships came up. He was very honest about why it didn’t work. He said the words that relaxed your mind.

“They just couldn’t surrender to me.”

“Surrender? Like how?”

The soft look in his eyes as he takes your hand, “I’m a dominant man, sweetheart. I need someone who can be a good girl and follow the rules and let me take care of them. They couldn’t do that for me.”

You swallow down your nerves, “I can...I can be a good girl.”

From that point forward, a dynamic was put into place. Henry was very clear on the rules and limits. Anytime you even had a question he would take the time to explain it to you. You both agreed you couldn’t live your lifestyle all day every day but there were ways to make it work. 

Normally the house rule is when Henry comes home from his day, you are to be kneeling naked on the rug just inside the living room. It’s out of sight from the doorway so you couldn’t be seen but close enough to hear him open the door. 

He would walk into the room and open a desk drawer where your collar was stored. He would slip it around your neck and the second it was fastened the world would slip away. 

With his schedule running later than usual, you hadn’t been doing that. You hadn’t been doing much of anything. Most nights you would crawl into bed before he even got home. Some nights you would even forget to eat dinner, which was breaking a rule, but he never mentioned it. You wondered if being married plus all the stress of this project was too much for him. 

When he told you to “be ready and waiting” for him, your heart jumped into your throat. It had been weeks. Then it had dawned on you; you felt off because you weren’t given the chance to surrender. To be submissive. And it hurt. It hurt every cell in your body. 

You looked at the time and decided to shower. You had been neglecting some self care and really wanted to make the effort for him. You still felt wrong even after your shower. Like you didn’t deserve his care because you’d been disobedient. You had all but ignored every rule. 

You felt overwhelmed with sadness when you thought about Henry being disappointed in you. It caused your body to ache and not in the way you liked. He said he wanted to take care of you tonight but that’s not what he needs. He needs to punish you for all the wrong you’ve done. 

You’d convinced yourself that if he will just punish you then he won’t be mad and you’ll be okay again. It’s still early when you kneel down on the rug. You try to control your breathing and let yourself sink into the right head space. 

Your mind was swirling with anticipation. Of how you were going to convince him to punish you. If you tell him every rule you broke, he will for sure have to. Punishment is non-negotiable. Also a rule. 

You couldn’t sit still. That won’t do at all. You know part of this position is to be still. Looking up and seeing only three minutes had passed, you groaned. You had to show him you cared about this. That you were still his good girl. Even if that meant he had to punish you. 

You decided to go to the one place that could help: the play room. It’s always locked but you know where he keeps the key. You grab it from its spot in the drawer beside your collar. Your fingertips ghost over the edges of that box if only for a moment. You cough as you realize you’ve been touching your throat. 

Walking down the hall, your heart pounded in your ears. With shaking hands you unlock the door and go inside. You quickly kneel on the mat in the middle of the room and squeeze your eyes shut. 

You try to just concentrate on the points of impact. The pressure of the floor on your knees. Your mind however will not stop racing. You begin to drag your nails up and down your thighs hoping to combat the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You leaned forward and pushed your forehead to the ground. 

Instead of being able to focus, it was all spiraling apart. You wanted to cry as you thought about how disappointed he is in you, but the tears wouldn’t come. Your breath felt like it was being squeezed out of your lungs. 

You couldn’t even follow simple rules for your own good. None of it is hard. 

You lost all sense of time as you tried to catch your breath against the cool mat on the floor. Everything hurt and you felt as if that’s what you deserved. Maybe that’s why you didn’t notice his eyes on you from the doorway.

Part 2

#henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #oddduckthatgirl #piece by piece story part 1 #henry cavill

[riofann]

Meet The Parents

GIF by: @leelakoiwolff​

A/N: Part of The Spooky Series

Warnings: some violence, cursing, mentions of smut, 18+ crowd

Things between you and your boyfriend Oscar were not going so great. The honeymoon phase was over and now it just seemed like all you two did was argue over dumb shit. You actually hadn’t talked or texted him in over a week after your last blow up, both of you had too much pride to back down. However today was ‘Santos Day’ and there was going to be a big party at Spooky’s house. All the Santos would be in attendance.

You and Letti had decided to bake a cake in celebration

“What type of cake should we bake?” she asked

“We should make it like the Santos sign, the cross and all”

“Oh yea! We should, good idea!” 

You both rush to the grocery store to grab all the ingredients you simply didn’t have enough at home. 

“How are things between you and Spook?” Letti asked

You shrug “I don’t know haven’t heard from him”

“Well hopefully with ‘Santos Day’ being today it will break the ice and we can double date again!” She was Sad Eyes' girlfriend. Very sweet young lady cared for Sad Eyes and Santos like they were her family. 

“Yea...” you said agreeing but deep down you weren’t so sure. The argument you had was so stupid you couldn’t even remember how it started, but it did, and one thing led to another which resulted in Oscar grabbing his things and leaving slamming your condo door behind him. 

~~~~As the time approaches you both get ready. You didn’t put much effort into your outfit, black jeans white top, and converse, you weren’t planning on staying anyway. You had a back up plan texting your cousin Sasha earlier in the day making plans to hang out with her and her boo. Even if it was third wheeling, you’re positive it would be better than having to pretend all was okay between you and Oscar. 

As you both arrive there are cars all over the street so finding parking was quite difficult. You had to walk a bit before you got to the house carrying cake in hand. 

“HHHEEEYYY!” Letti greets as she enters “Look what we brought!”

“Damn thats a cake?” Cesar asked 

“Yup we made it for ‘Santos Day’”

“Damn!”  

“Yo Spook!” Lucky one of his men called him to “Get in here!” 

Oscar slowly rose from his chair in the back of the house and walked in

“Look at the cake!” Lucky speaks to him pulling him in the direction of the cake 

(A/N:The cake is a replica of Cesar’s back tattoo, with cupcakes spelling out Happy Santos Day) 

“We made you a cake for ‘Santos Day’!” Letti says exited

“Hope you like it!” you added 

“Looks good, before we eat it call everybody into the house” Oscar said

You stood next to Letti and watched him give a speech, thanking The Santos for being his make up family and watching over his little brother Cesar. Afterwards it took you and Letti some time to cut and distribute either cupcakes or cake pieces to everyone, by the time you were done both Oscar and Sad Eyes had migrated back to their chairs in the back of the house and were just relaxing listening to conversations. Letti left to be by Sad Eyes before you did. You were doing a little bit more cleaning there were beer bottles and cans everywhere, red solo cups all over. You just wanted the place to be a little bit neater. 

When you step out to find the crew there's a couple girls sitting close to Oscar, flirting with him this was normal you had gotten used to it by now. 

All the ‘important’ Santos sat in the circle, as you approached the group a few attempted to offer you their seat but you declined and made your way to Oscar.

You bent over next to him putting your hand on his shoulder. “Hey!” he gave you that notorious mug and you quickly removed your arm, so much for breaking the ice he was still mad at you, “I'm gonna go, I’ll see you later okay?” He didn't respond, just give you a look you couldn’t read besides anger and irritation. “bye babe” you say before kissing his cheek

“Bye guys Happy ‘Santos Day’ drink up be merry yea?”  you speak to the group

“Where you going?” Letti asked 

“Yea what's up with that?” Sad Eyes chimed in

“Come on you can’t leave” someone else spoke up

“Sorry guys, my cousin Sasha and I made plans. I'll see you guys later.” you wave goodbye and quickly make your way down the driveway. Everyone knew there was bad blood between you two but nobody knew exactly what.

All eyes turned back to Oscar, who you feel boring a hole into your back

“Watch out” Letti said to Sad Eyes as she stood from his lap. “Y/N!” she called to you by this time you were walking down the street to your car. When she caught up you were wiping away your tears

“Yea!”

“You can’t leave, talk to him”

“I’m tired of being the one who always surrenders Aletticia!” you vent

“Y/N come on you guys are good together”

“Maybe we aren't suppo...”

Before you can finish Oscar had caught up with you two and was standing a few feet back “What’chu guys talking about?”

You turned to look the other way while wiping away your tears 

“Nothing Spooky we’ll be in soon” Letti answers

“I gotta go” you say hugging Letti “I’ll talk to you later” 

“Vamos” Oscar called tilting his head backwards

Letti begun to walk towards him 

“Not’chu,” he points at you “You, Y/N vamos” “Oscar I have...” you protest 

He interrupts once again “Cancel them”  he said stepping closer 

“Fine” you said walking towards your boyfriend, you had given up and you knew if you made this an issue things might get worse 

“AAAYYEE you came back!” Sad Eyes celebrates

“Have a seat” Oscar says to you as you approach his chair 

“Yea!”  you say forcing a smile 

You text your cousin canceling movie night plans it worked out for her anyway, she was getting hot and heavy with her boo thing. 

When Oscar returns he has another beer bottle in hand and a red solo cup “Here” he said handing you the drink. “Taste it”  He knew beer wasn’t your thing, you hated it, you would rather go for the liquor. 

You take a sip and smile. He made it just how you like, sweet. “It's good thanks”

He pulls you to stand up before sitting down on the chair and pulling you on his lap. He adjusts a bit and you sit still, your back is straight up you haven’t relaxed into him yet, your body is tense against his. 

“You comfy?” he asks close to your ear

“Mhmm” you nod taking a sip 

“Ven aquí”  he says pulling you closer to him practically forcing you to lay on him wrapping one arm around you resting his hand on your thigh

You don’t make a noise but just sit and sip on your drink. You didn’t do well with confrontation let alone a full blown in your face argument. You always needed verbal confirmation that things were good between you two before you felt at ease again. 

Your phone vibrates and it's a text from Letti

Letti: TALK. TO. HIM

You look up at her scolding you. You know Oscar has seen the text because he chuckles out of nowhere. 

You sigh and run your fingers through your hair. 

“Changed your hair?” 

“Yea” you had made it lighter and added a few highlights “you like it?” 

“It's cool,” he could care less you could be bald and he would still think you were the baddest in the group “what’chu been up to?” 

“Just work” you answer curtly

He nods and takes a pull from his blunt. He blows out the smoke. 

Out of nowhere you squeal from the sensation that just hit you causing the group to look at you “Oscar!” You say smiling now trying to get out of his lap, he was pinching your sides knowing they are your ticklish spots

“What?” he asks smiling while he pinches your side again causing you to squeal 

“Stop” you squirming around his lap

“Talk to me then, like Letti said”

“About what?” you ask looking in his eyes 

“Anything”

“Okay what happened to your hand?” you ask the obvious

“Don’t worry about it”

You shrug “I have no other questions”

“I got a question”

“Okay”

It takes him a moment before he finally speaks “How come i ain’t never met any of your family only your grandma who used to live down the street”

You turn to look at him and hold a puzzling look

“What cat got your tongue?”

“No,” you were putting two and two together  “is that why you're mad at me?”

“Answer the question.” he responds calmly before taking another pull from his blunt

“You answer the question!” you could really be difficult to deal with sometimes. 

“I mean we been dating what six, seven months you’ve met my entire Santos crew i don’t  even know your moms first name”

“I don’t know” you shrug “we have never really talked about it, i didn't think you cared”

“You embarrassed of me or something?” his facial expression changed to a serious one

“No! I am not”

“So whats up then?”

“We literally haven’t talked about meeting my parents i didn't think it mattered but i am not embarrassed of you! Don't think that!” 

“So when can i meet them?” he asks challenging you

“Uh” you hesitate before answering “I can text them and find out when would be a good time”

“Do it then”

“Now?” 

He nods “Yea”

“Its one in the morning”

“So? When they wake up they’ll see it”

“Okay” you say pulling out your phone and type the message “happy?” you ask showing him the text 

He raises his brow and shakes his head looking away 

“Hey” you say, making him look at you. “I am not embarrassed of you and I’m sorry if i made you feel that way.” 

“It’s cool, give me a kiss”

You leaned in to plant kisses on his lips. You two always did 3 meaningful kisses followed by an eskimo kiss

“There we go there we go!” Baldie, another one of his men, claps “WHOO that’s what we want to see!” You both flick him off before returning to the conversation. 

~~~~~A date was finally set for Friday night. Oscar was to pick you up from your condo and you were both to arrive by 7PM.

“Come on Y/N we are late!” he fusses, he was so anal about time

“It’s fine i guarantee you my mom is waiting for me to help her cook”

“Yea but i don't want my first impression to be bad i already got strikes against me”

“Like what?”

He counts on his fingers “Like my tattoos, my occupation, my record”

You shrug “I dont care about those”

“But your parents will”

“Are you dating them or me?” you challenge 

“Ay! Esta mujer! Vamos!”

“Okay! okay! im done sheesh!”

You both don't say much during your ride there. Truth be told you were both nervous. When you pull up to the affluent community, Oscar feels his nerves raging he didn’t care about them not liking him but what if they influenced you to feel the same?

He parks the car looking at the houses around him 

“DAMN you lived like this?” He asked 

“Yea” you shrug it was nothing special to you but for someone who grew up like Oscar it was something

“Ready?” you ask as you hold his hand pulling him towards the house

You open the door and call out, “Mom?” the dogs start barking, two Samoyeds run up, “Hi Tweety, Hi Sylvester, how are you I missed you!”  you greet them, Oscar does the same bending down to rub their heads, “Mom? Dad?”

You hear talking further into the house “they must be in the kitchen come on” 

You walk through the house and find them deep in conversation, in the kitchen 

“Hey mom, hi dad”

“Ahh Y/N you finally made it!” your dad comments he stands up and  glances at his watch. Oscar could pinch you right there “right on time!” He walks up and gives you a hug

“Hi sweety” your mom chimes in, giving you a hug too

“Hi mom this is Oscar, my boyfriend, Oscar my mom and dad Jennifer and Nicolas” 

“Nice to meet you son, come here” your dad said pulling him in for a hug

“Hi give me a hug too” 

“Nice to meet you guys”

“You guys got here right on time, dinner is almost ready! Y/N why don’t you help your mom finish up” he speaks to you before turning to Oscar  “let's go for a chat shall we? What's your poison?” your dad asked

“I'm good with anything sir,” this was his first time meeting parents. “Oh no, Call me Nicolas”

The two men walk away and your mom’s smile drops

“Really Y/N?”

“What mom?”  you say preparing yourself 

“Him? Of all people Him?” 

“Yes HIM” 

“What about Brett”

“Oh you mean the piece of shit who cheated on me repeatedly?”

She huffed handing you the salad bowl “what do you think is gonna happen, hmm? That you two can live happily ever after?”

“Why can't we live happily in the moment?” you argue 

“How long have you been dating?”

“Almost 7 months”  you mumble 

“7 MONTHS!” 

On the patio Oscar and your dad’s head snap at the direction of the scream

“Don’t mind them so tell me about yourself Oscar,” he motions to his cheek indicating the same spot as Oscar’s tattoo “is that tattoo real?”

“Yes” 

“Killed someone? That's what that means right?”

Oscar adjusts in his seat “Something like that?” he wasn’t sure how much he should reveal of himself. 

“Well did you?”

“No, attempted, self defense” he takes a sip of his whiskey

“When did you get out?”

“Bout a year ago”

Your dad nodded as he analyzed his outfit. You had told Oscar to be his true self and not change a thing, so he was dressed in his Cholo garb

“The other tattoo?” He turns so your dad can see all of it “Santos” “Your gang?”

“Yea”

Your dad adjusts in his seat “So what plans do you have for yourself Oscar? Do you plan on being in a gang your whole life?”

“Honestly?” he was going to reveal his true feelings to another person, that would make two, you and your dad. 

“Yea honestly”

“Honestly im kinda tired of it, trying to figure out how to get out but things are kind of complex”

“How’d you get involved?” 

Oscar tells him the family history all of it, might as well tell him now and hold nothing back 

“Wow i'm sorry to hear that must have been rough”

He shrugs “I made it through”

“How long have you been dating my daughter”

“7 months”

“Wow! She kept you hidden for 7 months, we didn’t even know, as much as she came over we would have never known.”

“Yea it was my idea, for us to meet” 

Your dad nodded, “I know you know my concern is my daughter’s safety at all times” 

“She's safe with me”

“I don’t question her being safe with you. It's been 7 months and she hasn’t come back with a scratch on her. My concern is how involved she is in your gang life”

“She's not” 

“She's not?”

“No she knows what we do but i’ve never asked her to step in and do something on behalf of the gang”

“Okay good because my concern is not so much that you two are dating more or don't throw your life away because of loyalty to..”

Oscar cuts him off knowing where the conversation was going. “I get it. I would never ask her to do that. I actually want my brother to leave the gang life too”

“Well good i’m glad we have an understanding”

“Honey!” your mom calls from the patio door

“Perfect timing again! Come on Oscar let's go eat! I hope you like italian” 

They both stood up and begin to walk slowly towards the kitchen

“If you ever need anything, in regards to your exit from your uh ‘club’ let me know and i will see what i can do”

“Thank you, I appreciate that”

“No problem anytime my friend, anytime”

Dinner was awkward between you and your mom.  There was a huge argument over you dating Oscar, but otherwise the conversation was kept light. Afterwards you both hang around, allowing mostly your mom to get to know him better before you leave. 

You both get in and say nothing for a few minutes until you hit the highway. 

“What did you and my dad talk about?” you ask 

“Don't worry about it” he says looking over at you flashing a smile

You knew that was good news you didn’t need to know the details

“What was that screaming we heard?” he asks you 

“Oh uh my mom was upset that i kept you hidden for almost 7 months”

“Did you tell her it was your fault?”

“YES” you roll your eyes

“What did she say?”

“She wasn’t happy” 

“And?” he knew that wasn’t all of it

“And said other things you know typical mom stuff” 

“She doesn’t like me huh?” he says knowing the truth you were hiding

“Yet, doesn't like you yet”

Your mind drifts off to the conversation in the kitchen

“7 MONTHS!”

“Mom!” you didn’t want Oscar to hear you two

“What? 7 fucking months you’ve been dating that!....that!...” 

“Human being” you cut her off before she said something else more degrading

“Why would you throw your life away?” she now stands across from you 

“I am not throwing my life away I still work at the firm, my behavior hasn’t changed, He hasn't asked me to do anything”

“Yet”

“Oh my god of course”

“Yet Y/N! What if you are in danger?” “He will protect me!”

“How? By brandishing a gun and shooting it? Then what about you huh? If you get shot?”

“I won't”

“Yet”

“Mom!”

“Yet Y/N do not mom me! I knew i shouldn’t have allowed you to go visit your grandmother”

“He is not that type of person!”

“YET!”

“Are you serious right now?”

She moves to stand closer to you “Riddle me this. Are you willing to pull out a gun and shoot?”

“IF I HAVE TO DEFEND MYSELF YES”

“What about him? Huh? Are you willing to shoot someone on his behalf?”

You shrug “Yes why not?” 

“So you're just gonna throw your life away like that?”

“Mom, dad has guns, are you telling me if some person came to hurt you guys you wouldn't defend yourself and dad?”

“I'm not saying that, what I'm saying is when you associate yourself with people like him it's hard for society to see your true intentions, you will be reduced to nothing but a gang banger girlfriend.”

“Mom can you give him a chance, please!” 

“And he has a teardrop tattoo! So that means he has done time in prison?”

“Yea so what?” you shrug She stood back shocked by your nonchalant attitude“Y/N i honestly don’t know who you are anymore!” 

“I was the same daughter who came to visit last week. You didn’t have concerns about my person then!” 

“Because you were hiding him from me!” 

“Because I knew you would react like this!”

She threw her hands up in frustration “Y/N I can’t do this with you!” “Mom, I don't want to date rich guys. I want to date regular people. All the money we had and i still ended up depressed with anxiety and all the boys and men I have dated they didn't care about me the way he does. So can you please just give him a chance?” you beg

She scoffed “and you think you’re so special huh?” “Yes!” 

“I can't believe you. I am very disappointed in you. I raised you better!”

“This is why i kept him a secret”

She scoffs “don’t put this on me!”

“Fine it's my fault i'm a shitty daughter i’m a big disappointment. Sorry i couldn’t find a rich guy to fuck like you did” you argue back

You feel a sting across your face, “typical” you say as you hold your cheek. This was part of the reason you moved out. You two just couldn’t seem to get along. 

“You watch your tone!” she threatens now squaring up with you, waving her finger in your face

You take a deep breath and move back “You seem to easily forget where you grew up.” You wipe away the tears. Your voice breaks as you speak “I don’t need your approval. I don't need dad's approval. I really care about him, mother, he makes me happy, he takes care of me, he keeps me safe, isn't that all that matters?”

“What if he gets locked up?”

You shrug “Then he gets locked up!” 

“Are you gonna wait 10 years? Waste your life away waiting for some thug to get out of jail before you live life?”

You take in a deep breath before you speak “He wouldn't let me do that. We already discussed this. As soon as he goes to jail we are done. And that's part of the reason why he is trying so hard to NOT go back”

“I don't know what to say”

“Just give him a chance. I tried it your way I really did. But the men of today aren’t like dad, the rich spoiled men aren’t like dad they don’t care and they all treated me like shit. Oscar has never done that to me”

“When all of this comes crashing down don’t ever say, i never warned you”

“That's okay i know dad has my back even though you don’t” you say as you walk away 

“Y/N!” she huffed as you walked away. 

“Y/N!” Oscar calls your name 

“Hmm!?” you say turning to face him  He rubs on your thigh “You okay bebita?” 

“Mhmm!” you hum taking his hand into yours

“I asked what you want to do? My place or yours?”

You shrug “doesn’t matter to me.”

He nods heading over to your place. 

The rest of the night goes smoothly but you can’t seem to get your mind off of the conversation you and your mom had. You don’t really sleep but listen to him snore lightly. Maybe your mom is right. Were you being that naive?  It was easier to pretend when your parents didn’t know anything but now it felt like reality was hitting you hard. And you start to remember the run-ins with The Prophets and how things were fine one second and the next it was war. You think about the gun he gifted you to protect yourself, it stayed in the night stand drawer.  He has shown you how to shoot it, how to load it, how to clean it, unjam it, all of that. What about your safety? You lived in a condo downtown with parking underneath the building, you started to wonder if he had been followed to your place, What about you? Had you been followed? Do his enemies know where you live? Do they know the car you drive? Should you get another car? What about your job? Your friends? Now your parents.  It was all too overwhelming and you didn’t have concrete answers for all it. 

When morning arrives you ease your way out of bed careful to not wake him up, you sit in the living room staring at the walls drinking tea, deep in thought. When you hear him wake up you rush to the kitchen pretending to make something for breakfast, so you pull out eggs, bacon, and fruit. 

“Morning” he greets you with sleep laced in his voice, you loved his sleepy voice 

“Hey good morning”

“Kiss” he states leaning down for your 3 kisses and Eskimo kiss “mmm making me breakfast?”

“Yes!”

He smacks your ass 

“Hey!” You say holding onto it

He smirks and you know that look all too well “what if i only want you for breakfast?” he asks picking you up placing you on the counter

“I’m not food”

“Speak for yourself”

You giggle as he bombards your neck and lips with kisses “baabbee” you whine

“Hmm?” he hums paying you no mind, he was preoccupied

“I have to cook”

“My meal is hot and ready” he says cupping your pussy

You erupt in laughter

“No seriously” you say pushing him away

“Why you being stingy?” he pouts playfully

You lean down to kiss his lips “I am not!” “You know i need it at least 3 times a week!”

“You got it 4 times this week” you counter back

“I can’t help myself it's so good, you got me feenin”

“Really Oscar”

“Plus 1 of them was a quickie so it didn’t count” 

“You came! So it actually does count” 

“Okay how ‘bout we go for the record do it all 7 days?” 

You laugh at his proposal, but you’re becoming weak to the temptation, he knows what buttons to push to get you going. The spatula you're holding drops to the floor, a result of you wanting to pull him in closer. He pulls you forward so your bottom half is hanging off the edge, he gently pushes you down on the cold counter. With one swift move he removes your shorts and underwear. You wrap your legs around his body so you don’t feel like you’re going to fall. He rubs up and down your thighs lightly, he knows you're anticipating  his next move. You roll your hips against his growing hardness. He reaches down and flicks your clit  with this thumb causing you to jolt away from him.

He grabs you holding you in place “don't run, i’m flicking the bean over here”

You can’t help but laugh, sex with him was just as goofy as it was intimate 

You watch as he returns his thumb to its place right on your clit and starts rubbing it in circular motions 

“I think i’m in love” he comments

“Are you talking to me or it?” you ask now curious 

“Shit i don’t know” he answers not looking up at you, he was mesmerized 

Before things get going his phone rings he groans in frustration but he is on a mission. It stops ringing and you hear it chiming meaning someone was texting him before it rings again this time you grab his wrist

“It could be important.”  It is important, phone calls signaled trouble

“Fuck men i can’t win!” he complains as he walks away from you. He picks up the phone and closes the door. You can’t hear much but after a few minutes he exits fully dressed. Gotta go

“Okay be safe” 

“I need my kisses,”  he says leaning in to give you a kiss. It didn’t matter how bad things were, he wasn't going to leave without getting his 3 kisses and nose kiss. You two actually argued about it once. He called them his ‘good luck kisses.’

A/N: as always please let me know what you think

#omb #on my block fanfiction #on my block fan #fan fiction #imagine #oscar diaz #spooky diaz #oscar spooky diaz #y/n #writing #writingblr #oscar diaz fan #spooky diaz fan #oscar diaz fan fiction #oscar diaz imagine #spooky imagine

[unicyclehippo]

Do you accept beau/bright queen prompts? Otherwise for the number thing #3 “It’s three in the morning.” :)

ooh i haven’t done consecuted au in ages! fair warning, i don’t have a concept in mind to fulfill this prompt so imma just,, write & hope that it comes to me

//

They bring Beau back to the Xhorhaus and care for her as best they can, a restoration when they think it might help but mostly salted stew and a cold cloth draped over her neck. They replace it when it quickly becomes drenched in the sweat that pours off her and Beau is left feeling half-melted, like a wax statue, as the sweat and water droplets sit in a tepid film over her entire body. She feels herself sloughing away piece by piece in small and then larger sections; it’s not real—Beau is as hale and whole as ever—but there is something working at her mind that regects who she is, burns and melts away at this form with her weak eyes that cannot catch the moons light, the long arms and unfamiliar hands. The multitudes of selves within Beau clamour to claim sections of her, of themselves in her form, and at one point, when Beau looks down at her hands and finds she does not know them, she moves to the stairs that glide up to the second floor and she lays on the cool grey stone.

The ceiling of the entrance—hall? not quite—of their gifted house is high here. It rises to the second floor along with the staircase and above the doorway is a large circular window of fogged glass that fills most of that space. Beau stares up at it and shivers with fever and clench-jawed dismay; nothing that is happening to her feels good or normal or makes any kind of sense.

She remembers a party. Here in this room. This house they’ve had all of a month. This house that stands barren and watched, with her and her empire compatriots. This house that has never seen a guest while they have been in it—she remembers it filled with people and the chime of laughter and quiet conversation. Beau doesn’t remember herself, but she remembers this.

A party, back when the threat of war did not loom overhead. There were many of those times but the memories seem to be less immediate than those of Beau’s many deaths—a knife, plunged into—

She snaps her eyes back to the window.

Circular fogged glass.

‘Do you think it’s supposed to look like the moon?’ Lee asks her. She looks bored; she always looks bored at events like this.

Surathai flicks her eyes to the window. ‘Hmm.’

Lee scowls. Drinks deeply of the goblet in her hand.

‘Have I offended?’ Surathai asks, tone smooth and empty of apology or any of her own upset. And she is upset. Why? The thought shakes through her like the ringing of a bell and Surathai shivers with it. For a moment, she could swear that sweat dripped in a column down her neck, her spine. But the night is cool and she had not been permitted to wear her armour; her fine long tunic is untouched by sweat.

‘Have I offended,’ Lee repeats, the tone mocking.

Surathai arches a brow. It will make Lee furious. Why? That whisper comes again, and not far behind, like heavy blunt fingers poking and prodding, Who is she? What is this party?

Surathai glances about the space. She misses the way Lee scowls toward her as she scans the space: the Den umavi are clustered together like gossiping hens deeper into the house, their consorts either at their shoulders or, if they’re particularly lax, a step back from that most holy of spaces.

Lee tries shift deeper into the house without her, flanking through the east wing, a spacious library that corners onto the small dining hall.

Surathai wasn’t reborn yesterday. She follows easily. Each time Lee tries to ditch her, Surathai adjusts.

‘The more I must pay attention to you,’ she says, stepping into the space by Lee’s shoulder after the young woman had managed to put an entire door between them, ‘the less attention I have for would-be assassins.’

Lee scoffs.

‘Leylas,’

‘Shouldn’t you be calling me Your Majesty,’ Lee cuts her off, and the words sound bitter as she spits them toward her. ‘If you’re so intent on playing as my guard dog, at least do it properly.’

Surathai blinks. ‘Is that why you’re upset?’

Lee looks up from the spread—delicious, fresh, a real effort from the new Den—and for the first time this evening her lips soften from the flat obsidian slash they have been.

‘It’s a party, Sura. You’re my betrothed. You’re supposed to be on my arm, not at my shoulder.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh,’ Lee repeats, but this time her mocking is far more gentle. Teasing, really. ‘You didn’t know?’

‘Was I supposed to?’

‘You’re not exactly dressed to fight assassins,’

‘I would make do.’

‘It’s a very expensive fabric.’

Surathai plucks at her tunic with a slow of mild distaste. ‘You do not need to buy me expensive items. Especially not clothing.’

‘I’m the Queen, nothing is expensive for me,’ Lee says with a wave of her hand. She laughs then, not quietly, and waves her hand far more imperiously when varied heads turn to look at the Queen and her Consort half-hidden in the next room. Lee waits until everyone averts their eyes. Then, ‘I’m joking, Sura. Don’t look so foul with me.’

‘Our people have need of that coin,’

‘I know, my love.’ The endearment slips out, the way so many secrets and memories do between them.

They’ve said those words many lifetimes over; they still bring a bruising flush to Surathai’s cheeks.

‘Hmph,’ she says.

Lee ducks her head.

No longer upset, Lee loses the sharp bearing with which she had cut through this party so easily before. She is caught in many a discussion with many a boring individual and as the night wears on, so too does the party on Lee’s patience.

Surathai steps in before Lee’s new tongue can get her in trouble with an old friend. She wraps her fingers around Lee’s wrist and pretends to not be surprised when Lee rests a good portion of her weight comfortably into her.

‘It’s a party tonight, Taskhand,’ Surathai chides. She is allowed to chide. Her only concern is the Queen and does not have to pretend otherwise, unlike her betrothed. ‘Forgive us but we haven’t had an opportunity to dance...’

‘Of course.’ The Taskhand bows, excuses himself.

Lee shifts, sets her chin on Surathai’s shoulder. ‘Bodyguard or betrothed, whichever, don’t let anyone talk to me for—the rest of the night.’ A great yawn cracks her jaw.

‘Shall I glare at them?’ Surathai asks, voice soft, cajoling.

‘Oh yes. You glare so nicely.’

‘Mm. I do try.’

Lee chuckles. Shifts closer still, winding her arms around Surathai’s middle in a loose hug. Sura returns the gesture slowly and begins to sway to the gentle music that drifts through all of this house.

‘What time is it?’

‘Late. Early, really.’ Sura glances to one of her disguised guards, flashes a question. When they respond, she tells Lee, ‘Three in the morning.’

Lee groans. ‘My feet are killing me.’

Surathai hums. Is doubly relieved that she had passed over the death trap shoes that had been delivered with the outfit. Her own boots could carry her halfway to Asarius Settlement before she started to blister.

‘Shall I carry you home?’

Lee’s arms cinch tighter. She turns, nose brushing against the sensation skin of Surathai’s neck. ‘Would you?’ she asks. Breathes. The question tickles against her skin on that quiet exhale; Surathai shivers.

‘Of course.’

‘Because I am your Queen?’ Lee asks. She tucks her face more fully into Surathai’s neck so that her expression cannot be seen no matter how Sura tries; her tone is entirely empty save for the note of the question.

Sura hesitates. She isn’t sure precisely what Lee wants from her; her fallback then, the oath she had sworn two-fold upon her sword, and the promise of her rebirth itself. Dedication to her Queen, and all else that follows—honesty, forthrightness, protection. Love had not entered that vow on any iteration; that was sworn later, that third oath, upon her knees once more.

‘Because you are my queen, and my wife-to-be, and my wife-who-was, and the woman I choose life after life.’ Lee hums. Surathai frowns. Had that not been the right answer? She searches her mind for what is missing and can think only that she would like for Lee to laugh. ‘I like carrying you,’ she blurts, feeling abruptly and stingingly her young age at the clumsy words.

She gets her wish though. Lee laughs suddenly, pulls back—not out of her hold, but enough that she can see Sura’s face.

‘Is that so?’

‘Well—I’m—‘

‘Strong.’ Lee drags a nail down one of Sura’s arms, over the dip and trip of her muscles. ‘I‘ve noticed.’

‘I wasn’t. Last time.’

‘Hmm.’

‘You like?’ Sura asks, clumsy pre-century flirting clogging her thoughts and tongue. She flexes. She hopes this isn’t the life Leylas decides actually this version of my wife is far too awkward.

//

Beau comes awake at the sensation of a cold hand on her head. Blinks up into blue.

‘Jes?’

Her friend smiles, relief clear across her face. ‘Beau! You’re awake! Oh my gosh, Beau, I’ve been so worried, you were on the stairs and you were, like, just staring at the roof and Fjord said maybe you had been paralysed or, or, your mind was gone because you couldn’t hear us and that wasn’t a fun time at all but then you started talking and Caleb said it was Undercommon?’ Jester says all in a rush.

Beau hears most of it. She understands most of what she hears.

‘It’s getting worse, Beau,’ Jester tells her.

‘I know.’

‘I think it’s time.’

‘I dont—I don’t want—‘

‘I know,’ she agrees, and winds cold fingers into Beau’s.

The shock of it is nice, like cold water on a hot day. Refreshing. Beau clutches at Jester’s hand, tries not to feel like the other girl has seen too much of her, seen her sick and shivering and way too fucking weak, tries not to feel like so much grime at the bottom of the bucket.

‘I know it’s scary, Beau, and you probably don’t want people in your mind,’

Beau agrees with a grunt.

‘But we don’t know how to help you and—‘ Jester catches her bottom lip between sharp teeth, worries at it. Her brows push together and up, the picture of concern. ‘You’re in pain, Beau. We don’t want—I don’t want you in pain anymore. It’s awful, it’s just awful.’

She blinks up at her best friend. ‘Feels—like my head is all - crammed full.’

‘Memories?’

‘Mm. Yeah.’

‘Does it hurt?’

The heat begins to ebb and fade, lulling her and sapping with it her energy. Beau feels heavy, her tongue dry and thick in her mouth. ‘Only when I die,’ she says unthinkingly.

Jester gasps. Squeezes her hands tighter. ‘Beau...’

‘Ask ‘em if it’ll help? I wanna—finish this. Stupid. To put it off. Stupid.’

‘No, no.’ Jester brushes her fingers over Beau’s clammy forehead. ‘Not stupid. You’re just—stubborn.’

Through her slow-blinking eyes, Beau sees Jester smile and it’s one of the loveliest things she’s seen in all her lives. She thinks she says as much. Maybe she doesn’t. She sleeps.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #cr tag #consecuted au #losely

[ask-the-party-god]

SIEG! His name was sieg, I just remembered. -HNK Anon

hi hnk anon! im using this second ask of yours because its shorter, and putting your other one under the readmore to answer more extensively! X)

Okay. So I just got through the prologue, and I have a few things to say.

1. I’ve only had mash kyrielight for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her I would kill everyone in this and then myself!

youre absolutely RIGHT shes such a good girl! i love her and she only gets better and better as the same goes on! speaking of ‘better’ as it goes on, the game starts kind of slow? okay, so- the company that started fgo unsupervised, and they were making a cash-grabby game with less effort than it deserved... around the fourth singularity, though, nasu, the owner of the ip, saw the state of the game, stepped in and went like “nope, youre making this good, or youre not making it, period”, so... yeah he stepped in, put quality standards, lowered the saint quartz cost, added third skills to a lot of lower-star servants that didnt have them, reworked some other servants... also every milestone they include a quality of life change! earlier this year they increased the saint quartz you got from daily missions, then a retroactive change to interludes that gave me like, 100 pieces of it all of sudden... its good, i actually really appreciate them for that X)

2. The leveling up is a bit confusing for me.

yeah, the levelling up is, gacha levelling up, it was a bit weird at first, buuuut:

there are a few different things with exp in the game! you have your mystic code (your clothes, which have special skills), and your master level, both of which increase by just, doing any quest at all! master level determines your ap point limit, how many friends you can have, how many servants and ces you can have in your team at a time, etc... the mystic code level increases the effectivity of your mystic codes skills

theres bond level! this is how ‘close’ you are with your servant, and you raise it by fighting with those servants in your team! levels 1 through 5 unlock new information about them and new flavor text while theyre in your room! levels 6 through 9 give you rewards, like extra saint quartz, apples, etc... and if you get to level 10, you get a specific craft essence! some are like, “as long as the servant has it equipped, everyone in the team gets a buster buff”, but theres specific effects like, heracles gets a stack of 3 guts- which is insaaaaane

theres craft essences! theyre basically ‘buffs’, and levelling them up gives you some extra hp or attack, but ultimately theyre proooobably the least like, necessary thing to level up? still, you get spare craft essences out the wazoo so you probably want to feed the ones with effects you use a lot... anything with default np charge is GREAT for example, as it lets you charge up nukes all that much easier

and finally we get to servants! so you have the normal servant level up, THIS is what youd consider the classic ‘rpg level up’, but instead of levelling them up by fighting, you need items! specially, embers... feeding a servant embers and other spare servants you dont want (low rarity, pls dont feed people gold servants-), you level them up! this is a basic increase of all stats, but theres a level LIMIT! once they reach the level limit, you can ‘ascend them’ to their next stage, usually accompanied with unlocking new skills, and new cool outfits! you can ascend them up to four times, and once theyre at max ascension and max level, you CAN technically feed them holy grails (palingenesis), to break that max level limit to eventually reach 100... this is mostly unnecessary? but if theres a lower-rarity servant you REALLY like, that can put them on par with 4-stars, for example, or giving them a well needed extra boost to hp and attack

finally you have np and skills! skills are just that, servant-specific abilities! evades, healing, debuffs, buffs... levelling up skills reduces their cooldown at level 6 and 10, and generally increases their effect! np level up needs you to have multiple copies of the same servant, you can boost their np to be more damaging or to give you stronger buffs, depending on what it is

so basically, fighting will increase your master and mystic code exp, and your bond level! to actually level up servants, you have to feed them embers (you can farm them in the chaldea gate quests, or simply get them from story missions and free rolls)! to ascend them or level up their skills, you need special materials, which can drop in some free quests in singularities, be sold/drop during events, or drop from other chaldea gate free quests! not all materials are available from the beginning, so i suggest just, going through the story and upgrading your characters as you can, rather than obsessively farming to get them super high up before continuing with it

3. What’s the deal with the unregistered spirit origin currency? Because they are blocking me from getting the servants I want. That leads me to—

oh yeah no, dont worry about that, you are never, ever EVER going to use that X) basically, if you get 5 copies of the SAME 5-star, that is, if you get them to np level 5, and you get a SIXTH copy, which, again... insane odds? you will be given an unregistered spirit origin currency! basically its the way the game has of saying “sorry you keep getting this same servant so much, here, you can CHOOSE which one you want instead”

basically, insurance so you can never get a useless extra 5-star after fully upgrading a previous version of them

you gotta roll the gacha to get servants! its random! there is NO ensuring which one you will get, you just gotta try! well- there ARE occasionally events, like, twice a year, where you get to PICK a free 4-star actually

4. There are currently six servants that I want, everyone else doesn’t matter at the moment. The first is mash (so that’s one down) the second is artotia, third is Jeanne d'ark. Fourth is Jeanne alter, and firth Lancelot! And sixth- I SAW A MAID ALTER WITH A SNIPER RIFLE- WHAT? THATS COOL/FUNNY AS SHIT! I WANT THAT! (Maybe astolfo and uhhh... what was his name with the gray hair, he’s a caster- but that’s for later, the ones I listed are top priority,

lets see, six servants you want! believe me, you WILL get attached to more, but...

mash is obviously in your possession!

artoria is always, by default, in the summoning pool! theres occasionally ‘rate up’ banners, which give certain characters more weight, but ultimately, every saint quartz roll you do always has a chance of summoning her... specially right now, the more of the game you complete, the more servants you will unlock in the summoning pool, so technically shes at her highest drop rate right now

same with jeanne, shes part of the default summoning pool

jeanne ALTER is limited though! she does not appear normally, she can only be summoned when shes on a rate-up banner! i am not sure if she will be on rate-up before this, but the next banner i know she will for SURE be in is in may! oh! but- if you dont get her, there IS a 4-star, summer version that will be FREE this next summer, if you complete the summer event!

i think lancelot is also in the default summon pool!

maid alter is the summer outfit version of artoria X) i am unsure when she is available again honestly :o we had her event rerun not that long ago, so she may not be available for a while...

astolfo is in the default summoning pool AND theyre going to get a 5-star version this next year i believe! so, double stolfo!

sieg is, the free servant you get for the apocrypha event! it happened earlier this year, so i think that means theres a rerun of it still pending! eventually though, they will add a thing where you can replay events you missed and get the free servants from them, so while ideally youd wanna be playing while the event is up, theres a contingency in case you missed someone you REALLY want!

5. Please tell me how the start system works- I’m very new to this and I wanna be invested. Please help-

-HNK Anon

i think thats pretty much all there is! you get saint quartz through the story, by doing interludes, bond-levelling servants, through rewards, etc, as well as summon tickets, and you use those to roll the gacha! free friend currency only gives 3-star and under servants, while saint quartz can give you pretty much anything

theres almost always a ‘banner’ up, which offers ‘rate-up’ servants! the normal summoning pool has all the default servants and the story-locked ones you have unlocked, but the rate-ups can bypass the locks entirely! some servants are limited, so if they seem cool in a banner, you may wanna try to roll!

even if you dont get the servants you want- and believe me... it WILL happen... you WILL get more and more and more cool servants so, dont worry about that X) also a lot of lower-rarity servants are actually really good and can be used for a lot of things, so if you have a favorite, do not be afraid to level them up!

but yeah thats kind of the loop? you do stuff, get sq... roll the gacha for characters you like, level them up, do events... i honestly play mostly for the story, the main story gets really good, and the events are all charming and nice, but id be lying if i said i didnt want some specific servants... most of which are alter egos-

yeah sorry im rambling X) just... ask me anything else you may need! :D

#party god #ask #fgo

[thelaudown]

hyouka poly slowburn so its like: (post-anime)

satoshi and mayaka are dating all through highschool and houtarou and eru are maybe a little more invested than friends would normally be, and step in when they have problems to a degree that regular people would call a boundary issue.

houtarou and mayaka still give each other shit at every opportunity, but theyre much more outwardly friendly than before, and if she ever argues w satoshi houtarou is the first to say that theres no way its her fault. maybe one time it is and he confronts her abt it in a way that forces her to take him seriously. its the respect and codependency for me. 

mayaka and satoshi have functioning eyes and houtarous feelings for eru are completely obvious to them. unfortunately shes a little harder to read, so they never really get further than being very close friends and committing to being together for the foreseeable future, as far as this road will take them - its the same dynamic for the entire friend group, but satoshi starts seriously considering a proposal in third year. 

he and mayaka will be seperated through college - she wants to go to art school, he thinks he might like to be a teacher (specifically of like, textiles or language) and he thinks long distance is too much to ask of her. after a serious conversation she agrees and they take a break through college, but they are tentatively engaged, will be keeping in touch, and want to pick things back up once theyre both in the same location again. 

mayaka and eru flat in college, bringing up mayakas long buried feelings for her, and theyve always been so touchy, and she has a feeling that erus guilty about something? but she doesnt want to get her hopes up. she gets really frustrated and confides in the only person who knows both satoshi and mayaka and isnt involved - HOUTAROU, who attends a less prestigious college than eru but is taking similar business courses (he hasnt forgotten) and is commuting from home. 

hes closer to them than satoshi, but theres still a little distance and they dont meet as often as theyd like, partially bc he doesnt often make the effort - the energy he does have is expended on his classes, bc he has a motivation to do well - if he does, maybe eru will consider him without him even putting himself out there. anyway she still calls him on the phone all the time tho. 

he doesnt really have any advice when mayaka speaks to him, but hes quick to reassure her that satoshi wouldnt be bothered by her feelings - "because its eru". functioning adults refer to each other by their first names. it was a super embarassing transition period but theyre used to it now. 

so mayaka takes the leap and eru admits that while shes never really been one to dwell on romantic feelings, she reciprocates but is concerned abt satoshi - she loves him too, after all, and he and mayaka were/are/will be a great couple. she ends up confessing this to houtarou, filled w apologies and assurances that he neednt worry abt her personal matters, but he doesnt mind listening. anyway it stings (in a sad way, not a bitter one) that she apparently has interest in both mayaka and satoshi but not him, but he REALLY cant blame her. he tells her that he doesnt know how to advise her and she thanks him for listening, and then he does probably the most meddlesome thing hes ever done and calls satoshi and tells him everything. 

satoshi is really cool abt it, and hits him w "lol if theyre dating what if i just take you out to lunch. fairs fair. what do you mean you dont know about my massive crush on you, mr observer didnt pick it up? oh wow okay youre really stupid when it comes to yourself. ill pick you up on friday" and then satoshi calls mayaka and gives her his blessing and assures that he loves them both and wishes them the best and wow they REALLY need to catch up soon. hell bring houtarou and they can compare date notes! and he hangs up. 

satoshi is still kind of a petty guy and he probably only confessed to houtarou bc he was taken off guard, but hes not being inauthentic by any means. this is the new improved satoshi 2.0, who is becoming more comfortable w there being things he doesnt like abt himself and working on them and getting his feelings out constructively, rather than pushing them down and refusing to put himself in situations that might turn out badly. he gets his hopes up again, and is happier for it even when hes let down. 

eru is shocked to hear abt houtarou and satoshi. mayaka isnt. they talk abt it, interspersed w making out, and are shocked to realise that they like both of them - mayaka is ESPECIALLY taken off guard, both by her own feelings and erus, which shed never noticed before. she almost tells eru abt houtarous 3+ years of pining, but stops herself lest things get messy. shes starting to get an idea, but needs to tread lightly. besides, its not like houtarou wld ever like her. theyre barely even friends. it doesnt all add up as evenly as shed like. 

for houtarous part, hes genuinely in wtf mode irt satoshis feelings for him, and hes been in eru chitanda hell for so long that he never considered anything else, but now that he IS.... satoshi isnt so bad. he was always really cute w mayaka, when he wasnt being annoying for fun and profit. sure. okay. so they do some gay double dating through college, but the cross couple pining dont stop. satoshi is absolutely still obsessed w mayaka, but houtarou doesnt mind bc he cant take his eyes off eru whenever they meet up either. 

she still calls him on the phone all the time, and when schoolwork picks up he often finds himself calling her w thoughts or questions. they do some more thought exercises, but they dont need to argue as an excuse, and she barely has to badger him anymore. one day he looks at himself and sees a functioning adult who spends a moderate amount of energy on things that arent necessarily necessary, and wants to sigh, but. hes happy. 

college ends and they all find themselves back in kamiyama - satoshi is student teaching at their old middle school, eru is hard at work for her family, mayaka is working while she works on her manga debut, and houtarou is working while he figures out what he actually wants. 

its clear to all of them that mayaka and satoshi need to have a talk, so they do, and they come up with... poly. its unconventional, but they really are happy, and they really do love each other, and mayaka would love to start wearing her ring again (satoshi never took his off, and she pretended not to notice but she had the biggest lady boner over it). 

so now sometimes eru and houtarou are hanging out while their boyfriend and girlfriend are out on dates being engaged, making up for lost time and considering the practicality of marriage while they both have sidepieces, and houtarou and eru are pining BAD, but neither notices the other and he asks how her business is going and maybe kind of offers his assistance platonically. 

so now THATS happening, and satoshi and mayaka get to talking one day abt how those two should date, shld we do smth? and if they did then the only pieces missing are mayaka/houtarou and satoshi/eru which is a beautiful dream but wld never happen, what do you mean he/she wld love to date you, wait really, oh my god, what, are we doing this, 

and houtarou who has been working himself up to confessing for the past SEVEN YEARS, never gets to bc satoshi and mayaka interrupt while theyre at work and do it for him 

#jhkgfjkfjg #hyouka #txt #god i put it in bullets to try and make it legible but im here for suggestions bc this is so much #myfic #sure thats a tag now i dont normally post much of anything but!! i want to be more active so take this #if literally anyone is out there and has poly feelings about these 4 please message me

[xiuhnny]

a montage of love / mark lee

genre: college!au, acquaintances to lovers!au, slow burn, fluff, a lot more angst than anticipated

pairing: mark lee/female reader

word count: 26.5k jesus christ

warning: alcohol and drug abuse, explicit language, suggestiveness, a bit of heart-wrenching angst

summary: High school was a time in your life you didn’t like to think about, especially when the present days were the best ones you had ever lived. But when Mark Lee shows up in the form of blast from the past, you’re left with emotions you never planned on experiencing.

author’s note: i’ve been working on this for almost a year. amid the mess that is my life, i poured my heart and soul into this project, which is the first official piece of writing i do for the kpop community. it has taken longer than i expected, and i apologise to everyone who had been waiting for this to be published since i posted the preview quite some time ago. however, it is here! i’ll never be the person who can put out a short story because my need to go into fully specific details about every single thing is stronger than anything else. pleathe be mindful of the fact that this is fiction and i dont think any character in this work resembles their real life counterpart besides their physical appearance. also, i’m aware that i mix british terms with american ones, mind you that i’m neither so bear with me for a sec lol

High school was a time you weren’t particularly fond of. 

It was just a clustered mess of stillness-infused events happening one after the other, never having anything really good coming out of it. It was either neutral or downright disastrous and embarrassing, so sometimes you pretended it either didn’t exist or it was a foggy, distant memory in the back of your mind. 

Everything had been just plain, normal, detached, never good enough to think of it fondly.

You supposed being the new kid was probably one of the causes that made your attempts at fitting in with the others fail miserably. The people you hung out with were the type of people you knew your friendship wouldn’t stretch further than the last day of high school: you relied on each other for convenience. That didn’t hurt you at all because it was something you did too. And it wasn’t like you were the best version of yourself back then. 

The best came when you entered college.

The college you was the person you had always dreamed to be. Liked by people who genuinely cared for you and your wellbeing, with whom you shared good and bad moments. Carefree in the sense that you were no longer afraid of sharing your opinions and being yourself yet carrying all the same struggles every other college student did. This was your peak. You were at the top of your game in every aspect possible. And even if you were still flawed, like you would always be, the life you lead was still worth it.

However, not everyone shared the same path as you. Some people just had it all since the beginning: they were consistent in the way they presented themselves to other people throughout the years, and consequently that in itself appeased the masses no matter the environment they inserted themselves into. It didn’t help at all if they were truly nice people, which was the case.

You weren’t sure why the fact that Mark Lee was as loved — if not even more — in college as he was in high school surprised you, but the truth was, it did. 

Going through a blast from the past was something you were expecting, seeing people from your old school navigating through the halls of a place you really liked became second nature. You saw Sicheng every once in a while, the Chinese guy you had to become acquainted because both of you had transferred to your high school closely after each other. You saw Dahyun who was from your Math class though you never really made an effort to be friends, neither did she. You saw a variety of faces with whom you had shared tiny speckles of basic interaction.

But Mark Lee wasn’t just any person. 

Mark Lee was the cool guy who looked like he had everything without even trying or working hard for it. He had reliable friends, good looks, good grades, recognition and respect from pretty much everyone surrounding him. You were sure there wasn’t a soul capable of hating or so much as even having hard or negative feelings towards him. And rightfully so, for while Mark looked like someone who breezed through life without a scratch, he was severely passionate and strived hard for good results on whatever he put his mind in to. To top it off, he had luck on his side.

You couldn’t hate the guy, you’d give him that. He was too much of a good person.

It was nearly the end of the first semester of your second year of college when you saw him for the first time after you had ended your senior year of high school. With Mark being younger than you by one year, you had been swept away out of that hellhole before him. But as luck would have it, you were back to sharing an education facility. Not that it bothered you that much, except you had to be shocked not only by his presence, yet also by the happenstance he was talking to one of your best friends with whom you were supposed to meet up fifteen minutes ago.

You were the one who was late, of course. So many years had gone by and you still weren’t able to be on time whatever the circumstance was. And when you tried to be responsible and leave your dorm early, the universe seemed to be against you. It remained a mystery why public transportation would fail you on only those specific times. 

At that moment, being late was the least of your worries, because there, in front of you, stood two people who represented completely different times of your life colliding with one another, while you watched in the sidelines and wondered why something like this was even happening to you.

 It truly felt weird to you seeing the out-of-reach Mark interacting with completely-approachable Jungwoo. 

Pursuing a friendship with one of the school’s most popular people did not charm you in any way back then. You thought about it sometimes, what would happen if you were to befriend Mark, or his best friends Donghyuck and Yeri, but reality brought you back before your imagination pulled you in too deeply. Besides that, you were never interested enough in that kind of people, the ones who seemed like they were known by everyone and their mothers. The difference between you and them was ghastly, bound to never work out.

“___!” A voice shook you out of your memory lane themed thoughts, your eyes blinking into focus to the image of the two boys now looking at you, one with sheer happiness to see you and the other surprised. For what reason you couldn’t decipher why. He had always been like that. Not that you had paid Mark Lee too much attention in high school. It was just inevitable once in a while to look over to where he was sitting and analyse his behaviour for a tiny bit. You had that habit.

“Hey, Zeus,” You smiled softly, “Sorry for making you wait. Traffic sucked balls.”

Jungwoo rolls his eyes, clearly sensing your politeness had a reason. You had stopped apologising for being late after the first ten times. “Don’t even bother, you talk like I’m not used to it. Oh!” He seems to remember something by the way his eyes jump a little, and then he looks to his left where Mark Lee is, for a fraction of a second before looking back at you again, “That’s right. How rude of me. Remember that guy I told you about named Lucas? The one who is Kun’s cousin?”

“Tall, loud boy?” 

“That’s the one.” He grinned, “This is his friend, Mark. We’re heading together to Lucas’s. They invited me over for a game night! How cool is that, uh?”

“Very.” You deadpanned, completely averting the fact Jungwoo was introducing Mark to you. He would have a field day if he knew you knew who Mark was. Because there was no way in hell Mark would know who you were. Moreover, you couldn’t believe he asked you to meet up just because of a measly textbook which you could have handed to him another time. You were still going to meet up with other friends, but the fact you had to take a last-minute detour when you were already late to your original plans stung just a bit. “Here’s the book, by the way.”

“Thanks, you’re a gem.” The sad thing about your best friend was that he knew you couldn’t resist how cute he acted. It worked every single time, including this one. “Why don’t you come over too? If Mark doesn’t mind, that is.”

Mark immediately becomes flustered, eyes widening as if he’d just heard wrong, but you beat him before he can even utter a word in response, which could destroy your nonchalant façade, “Thanks, but I already have plans. The girls and I are actually sleeping over at Eunwoo’s today, and we’re going to the movies in about…” You take your phone out of your pocket to check, the numbers that stared back at you zipping you back into full awareness that you should probably leave if you wanted to make it on time. “Half an hour. We’re watching Venom.” There’s a strange heaviness in your chest making it hard for you to breathe. Being the centre of Mark’s attention felt so alien to you, so unreal and wildly unimaginable. “And I’m sure Lucas and his friend wouldn’t really be comfortable with having a stranger in their home.” You laugh at the end to soften the truth behind your words. 

As fun as it is meeting new people, bringing them unannounced in the last minute was never recommended, and it could seriously deflate the comfort in those who were present. Jungwoo had good intentions, but that’s all it was.

(You’re not a stranger, Mark thinks, I’ve had a crush on you for embarrassingly too long.)

“That’s a pity, really.” Your best friend pouts adorably, and you chastise yourself inwardly before you changed your mind, “Let’s set up something as soon as possible, though. I feel like we all will get along well if we get the chance.”

His determined enthusiasm was cute, almost contagious if you willed yourself to let your guard down. You’d let him get away with it this one time.

“Of course! Just let us know when and where, and we’ll be there.”

Mark goes back to looking like he could be feeling every type of emotion possible, chewing on his lip with his eyes unreadably stoic, and the three of you part ways at the school’s garden but not without the thought of how well Mark had grown between the last time you saw him and now infiltrating and contaminating your brain. 

Turned out Jungwoo’s ASAP was earlier than you would have ever imagined. 

Actually, if things had gone according to the way you had planned, he would forget about the whole ordeal and you would go on with your merry little way without any unfortunate recollection lurking around and probing into your life. You truly didn’t feel the need to meet many new people; everything was already perfect as it was, so why would you even ask for more?

Clearly, your best friend thought otherwise, seeing how seriously he had taken those words, and in the following week, prompted everyone to hang out at his place a Thursday night after classes ended. Much to your surprise, most of your friends seemed okay with it.

Vernon and Kino were just ecstatic over the prospect of meeting and chilling with new people since their social circle was always willing to expand no matter who tried to come in. Eunseo already spent most of her time in Jungwoo’s house to load off of his Netflix subscription and free food so having three or four more people coming over didn’t bother her at all as long as she had her spot on the couch. Yeeun and Eunwoo seized every moment Eunseo wasn’t home to suck each other’s faces off and do God knows what.

And you… Well. You wouldn’t normally mind under other circumstances, really. It wasn’t like you were actively seeking other friendships per se, but you also didn’t avoid them. So you decided that you weren’t going to scheme your way out of a meeting where half of the people there were people you cared about. Mark made you feel a tad uncomfortable because he was someone you had never thought of interacting so closely with — and by interacting you meant standing within a few metres radius while you looked at Jungwoo’s totally unnecessary yet nonetheless appreciated large 4K TV. 

What were you supposed to do? Confide in someone about it?

It felt overall illogical to tell one of your best friends about the issue, especially when you knew they would say you were blowing things out of proportion. You could already imagine Eunseo saying something along the lines of ‘High school is shitty for everyone’ and Kino agreeing with a stern look that totally said ‘Just because you had a hard time it doesn’t mean you can project those feelings onto people who don’t deserve it’ because Kino was just the kind of introspective person who would lecture you about how to detach yourself from the problematic behavioural ways you possessed. And you would do nothing but stay quiet, because the truth was, whatever words they deemed fit to tell you were going to be true. Furthermore, you knew you had no reasonable explanation as to why you clamped shut every time someone from your past popped up in your line of view. It just happened. Like the invisible string you had around you tightened every single time, and stupidly, you just let it happen. It was wearing you out little by little.

So for today, you were going to suck it up a little for everyone’s sake and relax around a person whose presence felt so foreign and unreal.

The walk to Jungwoo’s was filled with a 00’s hits playlist blasting through your earpods as a way to let yourself loose and calm down your stupid nerves, your steps matching the beat of whichever song came on shuffle. This whole situation was affecting you so absurdly that for the first time in a really long time you had left the confines of your dorm room earlier than you were used to, so you could get to your destination on time, if not before what had been scheduled. Arriving late meant everyone’s attention would be on you as you awkwardly waved to everyone, and you weren’t really in the mood to be the centre of attention to people you weren’t close to. You would fling yourself from the nearest window if you had to go through what happened when you saw Mark, having his gaze burn uncomfortable holes along every single visible surface of your body. Being fashionably late was not on your plans. Not today.

“Uh,” You should’ve guessed Jungwoo was going to be confused when he saw you standing on the other side of his front door at 19:45, your backpack slung over your shoulders and your university hoodie almost covering you entirely because of how large it was, “___… You’re early.”

You snort, “Yeah, I like to keep you guys on your feet from time to time so you never underestimate me.”

He lets you in with a scratch on the nape of his neck, and when you glance around expecting to see the entire expanse of his lengthy living room littered with known and unknown faces, you’re faced with only Eunseo sitting on the sofa with her computer perched on her crossed legs, face too close to the screen as she typed away.

“Wait,” You frown, craning your neck so his kitchen was visible to you, “Why isn’t everyone here? Am I too early?”

Eunseo suddenly chokes, looking up from the screen, “___! What are you doing here?”

“Don’t tell me you guys…” Trailing off your words, you begin glaring at your friends with a hand perched on your hip indignantly, “You guys… Wow! What time did you guys plan with the others? Let me guess—”

“Before you strangle me to death,” Jungwoo raises his hands over his shoulders in surrender, “We never thought you’d be here so early!”

“I don’t even remember the last time you were on time, ___,” Eunseo is pouting exaggeratedly, pleading her case alongside the other traitor in the room, “We just didn’t want the other dudes to have that first impression of you.”

As much as it pained you to confess, they had a point. If you were planning on actually appearing somewhat likable to these other people you didn’t know, several measures had to be taken. Even if deep down you felt stingy about it — about how your mind seemed to only focus on the fact that they probably had done something like that several times — you understood it. Time was precious, and some could even interpret your lateness as valuing your time more preciously than theirs, which wasn’t really the case because you never did it maliciously. It truly felt like it was apart of your nature, being like that.

“I thought it was one fake bitch in this house, but there’s two.” You sniffle dramatically before going into the kitchen to fetch food to eat in the meantime.

Jungwoo fist-bumped the air in victory. Something was up, he was pretty sure.

Until now things had been going amazingly well, as always. Having Kino, Jungwoo, Vernon, and Eunseo together inside the same place was as familiar to you as the way you recognised yourself in the mirror, so the inside jokes and jabs you threw at everyone were comfortable, homely even.

You were peeking into Eunseo’s laptop with your head against her shoulder, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose to top off your lazy outfit of the day as you proofread the essay she had been working on for the past three days when the doorbell rang and your attention diverted. 

It was incredible how you heard Loud Boy before you could even see him or whoever was accompanying him. A cacophonous, high-pitched symphony of unintelligible screams filled the whole vicinity, Jungwoo’s softer voice practically muffled underneath it all.

“Well,” Eunseo closed the lid of her laptop before putting it back inside her bag, shrugging, “I was expecting this.”

“I don’t even know why you brought it with you, this is supposed to be a chill night,” Vernon quipped from his spot on the floor, the deafening sound coming closer and closer until it was blaring ridiculously loud in your eyes, “Oh, there they are!”

You weren’t sure why you were expecting not to see Mark amongst the other two unknown faces, yet alas, there he was indeed. Looking like a Sim waiting for instructions, stoic with his bugged-out eyes absorbing his surroundings until they land on you. And then he just observes you like he’s trying to make a point you’re unaware of coming across, just until the messy reunion between the other guys dies down. An intense stare-down between the both of you that ends with you averting your gaze not even five seconds later because you’re a little bitch when it comes to eye contact. You swore you would rather gauge your eyeballs out rather than stare at someone for a really long time, and if that someone was Mark Lee, even five seconds was too long.

Lucas, the boy you had coined as Loud Boy, was just as handsome as he was extroverted. The way he carried himself and the atmosphere around him left you with a good impression of him, just like the other boy who was next to him. Minhyuk — “Call me Rocky,” he said, like the discrepancy between his real name and his nickname wasn’t that big — looked like he was a fun person to be around by the way he reacted pertinently to everything that happened. Mark, however, waved at both of you and Eunseo with what looked like a strained, forced smile, a stark contrast to the ease he seemed to exude when he did those weird handshake guys always did, despite the fact it was the first time he had interacted with either Kino or Vernon.

The way Eunseo gripped your hand tightly against hers when the boys fell into a never-ending conversation about the most recent PlayStation 4 games was a foreteller that tonight was going to drag through painfully slow, the emerging testosterone spreading through the air as the themes of their talk rarely strayed too far from gaming. Which wasn’t normally something you would find so boring if it was just your group of friends talking about it. Because Eunseo and you also played, avidly, as a matter of fact, so the fact your friends were getting lost in the hype of having new gaming buddies was reason enough to put a damper on your mood.

You had her there, though, and that was more than enough for you. These kinds of situations never failed to leave you unsure how to act, afraid of looking like an antisocial snob who looked down on others. Together, the both of you looked the way you felt, a bit ostracised and uncomfortable with the undesired and unintentional division between gender, but you accepted it begrudgingly like the other things that had happened so far.

Half an hour into their bickering and fooling around you decide to go somewhere else within the house, dragging Eunseo with you, and it’s the lack of shuffling behind him that alerts Mark of what’s going on in the back scene. It’s then that it clicks — you. You were still there, alongside your friend sitting on the sofa while the rest of them laughed and talked without even thinking about how you must have been feeling. His chest suddenly feels heavy with guilt, mind flashing back to the way the hem of your sweatshirt almost touches your knees and how much he wanted to roll your sleeves.

He’s reminded of past times, times where you were both just a little younger and surrounded by a completely different group of people, but he thinks the way he looked at you back then hadn’t changed at all in comparison to the way he looked at you now. Like he wants to get to know you so much it strangely makes his heartache from time to time. Like he can’t find a way inside your world when he had been given the chance to see you again after two years of desperately agonising over whether he should send you a friend request on Facebook or not. Yet there he was now, just a breath and a half away from speaking to you and just like the God damned fool he was, Fortnite, of all things, cockblocked him into getting distracted by a conversation which he couldn’t get back on the groove because of how truly shitty he felt. 

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “I think we forgot about…”

“Shit,” Vernon says, and Jungwoo flings his head back to the now empty space on his sofa, eyes widening to the point of almost looking like an exaggerated animation. 

Lucas is shrugging indifferently, “They probably went to drink some water or something like that,” And then he’s back to telling the rest of the story he had been telling before Mark interrupted the flow. That doesn’t deter Jungwoo, who gets up from his spot and goes through the same path you had gone a few minutes before. 

“They were sleeping,” He announces when he comes back, “Said we should catch up while we’re at it, and to wake them when we decide to be… inclusive.”

Kino hisses, his face contorting a little at the blow, “That’s something ___ would say.”

“That’s because it was her who said it,” Jungwoo snorts. Mark feels a pang in his chest at your choice of words: they were words said to cause an impact, to bring awareness, to hurt those who were inconsiderate. You didn’t like these type of things, and now he was not even in the mood to be roped back into a setting where he knew it left you uncomfortable.

“Let’s just play two or three rounds, and then let’s watch the movie,” Lucas suggests, still trying to revive the situation.

“It’s not cool to leave them out,” Mark frowns, and he means it. There were many instances in the past where he really wanted to find a way to bring you into his circle of friends, maybe befriend one of your friends just so he could have you around, but as good he was in some things, Mark was disgraceful in everything related to crushing on someone else. He knew he would make a fool of himself, akin to everything he had done ever since he saw you last week. The closest he had been to you before had been in the cafeteria line, and even then he was cockblocked; you looked at him briefly in the eyes and trapped him there, and when he was ready to smile at you, a sign of friendliness which he hoped was inviting, one of his friends calls him and that bubble involving you two was burst just as quickly as it was formed.

That had happened the last days of his junior year, your senior year. And that was the last time he physically saw you. Until last week, what he considered destiny brought you two together. Or Jungwoo brought you two together. He supposed Jungwoo would be absolutely elated if he knew the extent of his thoughts concerning his best friend.

“Yeah guys,” Mark hasn’t known Kino for that long, but he just knew the guy had a serious and righteous aura surrounding him like a superhero cape. “Let’s keep the game talk for another time. This is a movie night for a reason.”

No one seemed bothered about it, as if the original plans weren’t watching a movie, and Jungwoo once again took it upon himself to go call you and your friend, disappearing once again from their eyes, and then returning some minutes later with a very grumpy looking you with said friend rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“This better be good if you felt so compelled to wake us up,” You huff, pushing the bunched up sleeves of your hoodie over your fingers, and Jungwoo pouts from beside you before throwing his arms over your shoulders. He’s hugging you close to his body and you don’t seem uncomfortable by that: you’re neither recoiling in his arms nor freezing, you just roll your eyes at his antics and even go the extra mile to hold the hand that’s dangling pretty close to your chest. Rub your thumb against it. Lead him to somewhere on the sofa where he leans against your chest so freely it stings Mark’s heart for a moment.

He’s unsure of what to make of this. When he saw you last week, Jungwoo didn’t really make an effort to introduce you to him at all. He didn’t say you were his girlfriend, but he also didn’t say you were just his friend. He’s pretty sure the way he’s looking at you both is obvious, because Vernon nudges his shoulder to catch his attention, and whispers, “It might look weird, but they’re friends.” And just then, your other friend — Eunseo? Eunhee? — sits down and cuddles right against Jungwoo, the three of you doing this really strange yet endearing three-way spooning Mark could never think of doing. 

The mood is somehow better now, he thinks. You are all watching Coraline — your choice, because ‘it’s only fair we choose it’ — and Mark’s friends don’t seem bothered by it, neither do yours. Maybe it’s an occasional reoccurrence of yours, watching animated movies, or maybe it was just pure coincidence, but Mark is storing all of this information inside his brain greedily like a man starving for life, because it’s information concerning you, and he’ll take whatever he can get if it means it lets him get a small glimpse of who you really are. He had always doubted you were that quiet and neutral.

When the movie ends, almost everyone is sleeping. Lucas was knocked out cold against Rocky halfway through, and little by little eyes start closing and fights are lost against tiredness. The only exception to this is, of course, you. You’re still awake, looking at the TV screen with the palm of your hand propped against your cheek, squishing it so cutely Mark has a hard time concentrating on anything else. It’s stupid, he thinks, how you’re somewhat of a badass — or at least that’s the way he sees you — yet you’re still very capable of melting his heart to a dripping mess without even meaning it. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose, to appease him or something of the sort; you’re just… Being you. Minding your business. And he likes that a lot already. He wonders how he would react if you ever directed your energy towards him to offer him a smile, or caress the back of his hand, or even hug him. He’d combust on the spot.

 But you’re not even giving him the time of your day, and for now, he’ll take that. You probably don’t know who he is, can’t remember how you two go way further back than everyone else thinks. He wonders how he can get close to you when it seems like ten million miles are separating the both of you as opposed to the fact that you’re actually sitting close to each other.

You shake him out of his reverie when you meticulously and carefully withdraw yourself from the tangly mess of limbs you had been for the past two hours. Your friends don’t wake up if anything they snuggle even more against each other like two baby otters hugging as they sleep. Mark’s heart is crawling up his throat with the desire to follow you to wherever you had gone, probably the kitchen, and for the first time ever he doesn’t let the opportunity go to waste. There’s no one to stop him from his quest, he’s a man with a mission and he will knee kick whoever tries to stop him on the throat.

As predicted, you’re in the kitchen. Your back is turned to him, the billowiness of your large sweatshirt — the colour this bright orange that immediately caught anyone’s attention — engulfing your frame, making you look so tiny and huggable it’s no wonder Mark imagines a scenario where he just approaches you and hugs you from behind, cheek poising on your shoulder before your own arms reach back and stroke his hair. It was ridiculous of him to let his mind run so wild when the reality was that you two had never spoken to each other directly. But that was about to change, even if he was on the verge of peeing his pants because of how nervous he was.

A sound startles you, seemingly someone clearing their throat from behind. Much to your dismay, it’s the person you least expected to be there.

 Mark. 

You’re stunned beyond words to see him standing with his eyes trained on you and nothing else. There was no apparent reason for any interaction between the both of you, nothing was tying you together expect the fact that you both had gone to the same high school. But you were sure he didn’t remember you. You weren’t that recognisable. Just a normal looking face amongst the crowd.

“Um,” He starts off, blinking twice as if he’s gathering his thoughts and pondering how to word them correctly, “Sorry ‘bout… What happened out there.”

Now, this was interesting. Verging on the edge of uncomfortable if you really tried to apply some logic and let your mind take over. Though the mild curiosity plaguing you felt more enticing. You really wanted to know why he was here, apologising on behalf of the others for something you had decided wasn’t that deep. Annoying, perhaps, but deep down understandable. It had already washed out.

“What do you mean?” You cross your arms against your chest and lean back with the bottom of your spine against the counter. 

“I, uh. I guess what I’m saying is that I’m sorry that we ruined your night.” He sounds strained like he’s not proud of the things he just said, but had to do it because that’s how normal conversational situations worked.

It was cute, you thought. His words. His stance. The way he was jiggling his foot up and down in what you assumed was nervousness. Him, in general. 

Mark Lee was an attractive boy, and the stiffness you felt at the absurdity of what was happening wasn’t enough to stop you from acknowledging that. He just had to be absolutely handsome, because being perfect in almost every other aspect probably was insufficient to him. No matter the circumstance, even now — looking like he would rather pop off his head like a balloon instead of standing there — he looked divine. 

If you could bet he was unaware of how heartbreakingly good-looking he was, you would. He looked like that kind of person.

“You don’t have to apologise, Mark. It’s whatever.” His name slips out of your mouth so unfamiliarly you’re taken aback. This is the first time you’re addressing him personally, hell — this is your first conversation. You almost want to discreetly pinch yourself to see if it’s true, but you don’t. Mark was apologising to you for something you no longer cared about as a way to spark a talk between you two, and if that was just a figment of your imagination then so be it.

“Really?” He’s surprised, that much you can tell by the way his irritatingly cute lips round up. “You looked pretty pissed…”

“I was,” You shrug, “It was a bit shitty of you guys, if I’m being honest, but I’m over it.” You meant those words. It wasn’t something you were saying as a means to sweeten him up. You wouldn’t do that. Not to him, not to anyone else.

“I still feel bad… But I promise we didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know.” Words cease, because you truly don’t know what to say other than that. What were you supposed to do? Instigate something that wasn’t related to the current topic? You felt weird even contemplating it.

Seconds go by, the sounds coming from the TV in the living room muffled yet audible, and voilá, there it was.

The uncomfortable silence you knew would happen if you ever were to speak to someone like Mark. It was there, and it made you inwardly wince at how obvious it was. You were looking to everywhere but him. Feigning interest in the speckles of black in the marble countertop of Jungwoo’s home was better than looking to him. Deep down you were planning your escape route. You were ready to gulp down the rest of your glass of water and flee to the living room, maybe grab your stuff, go home to your bed where you could think about whatever you wanted without fearing someone peeking into the mess your head was. 

And then,

“I’m… I’m not sure if you remember me, but we went to the same high school.” His voice is soft, so soft but still so capable of boggling you to the point of silencing your inner thoughts. 

Mark Lee knew who you were. He knew you, and not just because you were Jungwoo’s best friend, but he knew about your existence since the time you had always dreaded. The heavy feeling in your throat resembles bile, and you try to push it down for the sake of looking presentable and okay in front of Mark, despite feeling completely the other way around. Your hands are clamming up, you can sense them and the urge to fidget with something, the urge to shrink in size to the littlest you possibly could. 

But you couldn’t just disappear out of thin air. Unfortunately. So once again, you suck it up, remember who you are and where you are, and reply with a meek, gentle, “I know.”

He laughs dryly, a hand scratching the back of his neck, “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

You’re somewhat befuddled by his statement, “What?” A chuckle leaves your throat, and abruptly you’re no longer feeling mortified by all of this, just bewildered, curious, intrigued. He made the leap, opened a path where you both could meet in the middle, and you weren’t going to let this one go without prodding it to its bone and core. “Mark… Everyone knew you. How could I not know you?”

“Not everyone knew me,” He sounds exasperated, and you deadpan at his reply, calling him out on his bullshit. The hue of the lights in Jungwoo’s kitchen must be completely fucked up because you swear if you squint there’s some lovely baby pink dusting Mark’s cheeks. “I was just… trying not to let the conversation die. Also, you’re the only person I have recognised so far that went there. It’s nice to see someone familiar.”

You almost choke at him calling you familiar, “Your best friends go here too, though.”

“That’s different.”

You want to roll your eyes but decide against it. “How so?”

They’re…” He trails off, “My best friends. I know them. I’m with them all of the time. And you’re…”

He must have a habit of not finishing his sentences, you realise. Either that or his brain cells are trying their hardest to formulate coherent, plausible thoughts so he can say them. If that’s the case, they’re failing miserably.

“A stranger.” You quip. It’s the truth. You racked your brain for a more appropriate word, but the scan you did for approximately two-thirds of a millisecond failed you. He bites his lip and looks away like he knows you’re right but he’s afraid of confirming it. Great, you muse privately, now I’m focusing on his god damning lips. “You know something? I think I should be the one saying that.”

“Saying what?”

“I thought you didn’t know who I am,” Dropping the tone of your voice by an octave, you mimic what you think Mark’s voice sounds like. As a response, he bursts out laughing at your silly imitation, even going to the point of lowering his upper body against the island separating the both of you, and covering his mouth a few moments later because of how loud it was in comparison to your tranquil surroundings.

His laugh starts low but then ends high-pitched, and as surprising as it is, it doesn’t overwhelm you like you thought it would. It’s kind of ridiculous how something so absurdly normal is capable of making your night, but it does. Also, his face looked kind of cute when he laughed, but you weren’t dwelling too much on that.

“Sorry… That was funny as hell.” He lifts his head, scooting his body closer so he’s closer to you, so he can see you better, so he can be more attentive. There’s still that island blocking him from being too close to you, and for that you’re thankful. Having him where he was already proved to be nerve-wracking if he was mere centimetres away from you… You’d take your previously forgotten escape plan in consideration. You note that it’s the first time you can physically recognise how he’s feeling. “But to reply to what you said, I saw you around school a lot, so it’s normal for me to know who you are, I guess?”

“It’s not, Mark. Okay, let me see if I can explain it to you the best I can.” You sigh, hopping onto the counter behind you. This boy had to be oblivious of all things. “You were popular in high school. A lot of people liked you because you were cool and funny, and good-looking, and a plethora of other annoyingly good qualities.”

It’s too late before you can fully grasp what you just said. 

Because being the normal human being you were, you had just revealed to Mark you thought he was good-looking. To his face. On the first conversation you two were having.

This was one of the reasons why you had always steered away from people like him. They were dangerous, but your idiot of a brain, which was known to be very quick when thinking, was worse, and subsequently, it left you with a variety of unfiltered, unbridled voiced opinions you should keep to yourself from time to time. 

It didn’t happen this time. And if Mark is aware of it or not, you can’t really say. The weird lighting is still playing tricks on you, making his cheeks appear flushed. But you know he’s not. His expression is as confusing as it had always been.

“You have to at least know that,” You giggle nervously, “It’s okay to acknowledge it. It’s not bad to be popular.”

“So a lot of people knew who I was. What’s the big deal about it?”

“Nothing,” You shrug, “I just find it weird how someone like you recognises someone like me, that’s all.”

He furrows his brow, “I don’t follow.”

Of course not.

“I was the most ordinary person in that school. I guess I’m just surprised you know who I am from back then since we pretty much were on opposite sides.” He sends you a look, silently asking you to explain further, and with a grumble, you add, “You ran with the cool kids. I ran with… normal kids.”

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms against his chest. You’re impressed with the range of emotions you’re pulling out of him. “We ran with different crowds. That doesn’t mean I can't know who you are. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Pausing for a dripping second, he eyes you intensely, the same kind of look he gave you earlier when you saw him. So he was trying to make a point come across after all. “I’m not an asshole… or a fuckboy if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s exactly what a fuckboy who’s an asshole would say.” You’re obviously joking. Mark was a wonderful person, you heard it a lot through the grapevine back in high school. How much of a selfless person he was. How caring he acted towards his friends. How serious he took things. It was simply impossible to hate the guy. You tried to hate him for being so nice, back in your sophomore year when you moved, but that just said more about you than him, really. 

He’s grinning at your choice of words, so you know he took it as a joke. You’re thankful for that. You already felt stupid enough trying to clarify your point of view in this whole You-Know-Me fiasco, it felt childish now that you thought about it, but if he wasn’t able to detect your sarcasm it’d be awkward time anew. “No, but really. I’m not that kind of person, ___.”

It’s the first time you have heard him say your name, and it floors you so inexplicably you can’t help but scratch the non-existent itch you were feeling in the back of your hand. 

Mark Lee was dangerous, you already knew that. He was that person who was able to lure you in without even wanting to, to make you feel important because you were on the receiving end of his attention.

You were dipping your foot, testing the waters. Seeing if the temperature was ideal. Like you’re standing above a swimming pool, buzzing with the rush of wanting to dive in, but holding yourself back because you don’t want to suffer a shock.

Curiosity gnawed at the frays of your being. You wondered if you would back out because you’re lazy and scared if you would submerge yourself in it, little by little as not to spook. 

Above all, you wondered if you would leap intrepidly into it and let yourself drown without a care in the world.

You smile, genuinely, “I know. You’re a good person, Mark Lee.”

Jungwoo pops up in the exact moment you finish saying Mark’s name, rubbing his fists over his closed eyes as a child does. Your heart swells at the sight. “Hey guys, what’s up?”

You grin. His timing was impeccable, as always. You were thankful the conversation ended that way.

One hour later, when you’re in the comfort of your own home, huddled underneath your warm, fluffy blanket, you put on your big girl shoes and do something for once. 

You were going to add him on Facebook.

Mark had the initiative to talk to you, which you were somehow grateful for, even if you were positively puzzled by his effort. So taking a big breath to calm down the incessant knock of your heartbeat, you click on the little Add Friend button before locking your phone quickly and shoving it under your pillow.

Turns out the prospect of never befriending Mark because you two were too different was embarrassingly ludicrous.

Your friend request on Facebook had been accepted not even five minutes after you sent it, your grubby, anxiety-ridden hands clutching your phone as soon as you heard it vibrate against your pillow. And when you woke up the next morning and checked your phone for notifications, one of them belonged to him, standing out and asking you to click on it while the others blurred in the background.

Did you get home safely? He texted, followed by a smiley emoji. In the haziness of the morning, where your senses weren’t still quite acute, your heart pounded intensely. It wasn’t like it was something out of the ordinary, but the fact it showed an inkling of worry and courtesy left your mind reeling and aware of your surroundings.

That was the beginning of a long string of texts that just never seemed to stop. From genuinely getting to know each other through questions to tagging each other on funny memes you saw on Facebook and reminded you of each other. You finally understood and were experiencing first-handed the hype about Mark Lee. And even if you didn’t hang out that much in person, the way you two had connected through messages was satisfying to you already.

Your schedules didn’t exactly match most of the times, so you could only see him in fleeting appearances when he popped up in front of your classroom, waving enthusiastically with a smile so cute it made you melt a little. Or when he went to lunch with your group of friends on Wednesdays instead of going back to his dorm room to study because he wanted to spend time with you. You supposed he was also speaking about Jungwoo, Vernon, and Kino too. He had gotten close to them as well.

On Christmas break, Mark goes back to Canada. The brief thought that floated through your mind about distance being an obstacle to your friendship is quickly washed away when he calls you through Facetime at 1:27AM, daylight clearly radiating in his surroundings while only your forehead showed on your side of the screen.

He wanted to show you the snow.

There were these instances in your conversations where your heart almost leaped out of your chest because of him. You weren’t going to make a big deal out of the first time he tagged you on Facebook until you saw the thought about you lol comment that was right after your name. 

It was annoying, the way he was making you feel.

You try to convince yourself you’re just thrilled over the prospect of being so close to him because your high school friends would be jealous of you. You tell yourself over and over it isn’t deep at all, that you have a greedy, superficial, and mean reasoning behind befriending Mark. But every time your phone dings with a notification, it feels like your heartbeat is crawling on your throat, leaving you no room to breathe at all. Like stepping on a seemingly shallow puddle yet it swallows you whole by surprise. Surprisingly enough, you don’t mind being underwater. 

Even if it means you’ll be gasping for oxygen soon.

______

It’s December 31st, and you’re sitting in the middle of Kino’s apartment deep in thought. Drunk, yet pensive nonetheless. 

If your calculations were correct, you still had two more weeks of classes left, and then the semester would be over. Normally you wouldn’t allow yourself to become so inebriated when you had finals just around the corner, but Vernon had told you Mark returned earlier than expected, subsequently confirming his attendance to the New Year’s party your friends had planned. 

Spending some days away from everyone really had put everything into perspective, and that scared you beyond words. 

The truth was, perhaps you were crushing on Mark Lee. It was insignificant, though. Everyone had a crush on him, it was as ordinary and common as liking superhero movies. As singing along to songs you like when they come on shuffle. It was as ordinary and common as breathing. So you weren’t dwelling on it too much. Except you nearly panicked at the thought of seeing him in front of you while your emotions ran high, unfiltered. It left you no choice but to chug three vodka lemonades in five minutes.

It was 11:05PM, there was a random song rumbling through the speakers you neither didn’t care about nor recognised, and you were sitting down on the floor, wondering about your academic life. Not one of your best moments, you reckoned.

But that’s how Mark finds you, anyway. 

He had shaken Lucas off of his back the moment he arrived at Kino’s, the boy clinging to him like a Koala, yelling a much-slurred m’ssed you bro against the shell of his ear, and hugged the other guys quickly. There are a lot of people he doesn’t know or run within his circle of friends. Furthermore, there seems to be a particular spot amongst the crowd that’s void of physical presence, like a black hole of sorts keeping people away from getting near. He doesn’t understand why he’s walking towards it until he gets there, sees you, siting crisscrossed and completely zoned out.

The most irrational chunk of his being wants to blast someone’s ear off for leaving you unattended and alone while you’re clearly not in a position to be so, but he’s Mark and you’re you. So he kneels beside you like he’s on autopilot mode, touches your shoulder to get your attention, and when you look up to him he just knows.

It would truly be an understatement to say he didn’t miss you.

You blink twice at him as if you’re in disbelief. He tightens his hold on you ever so slightly, just enough to make you realise he’s not a figment of your imagination. It’s obvious you’re questioning his presence. The way your eyes are glossed over so heavily plus the inconvenience of being sat on the floor rather than a normal sitting surface. They indicate your lack of sobriety. 

And when it dawns on you, amidst the fog of your thoughts, that he’s really there, you’re looping your arms around his middle, spooking him beyond words as you pull him into a hug. “Marky!” 

This is uncharted territory. Public display of affection wasn’t something you two ever did, well, except the occasional shoulder bumping or once when you grabbed onto his wrist because he was going in the wrong direction. There was no logical reason behind what you were doing, Mark was aware of that, you were drunk after all. But you have your forehead against his chest — awkwardly, if he really thought about it — and your arms are crushing his back, and yeah. In times like these, all logic flies right through the window.

“Hi.” You’re beaming and Mark feels nauseous.

“Hi, you okay?” He says in your ear, brushing away a small strand of hair. Not even the loud pounding of his heart could overtake the worry he was feeling. “Do you need anything?”

“I’m good, Marky boy! Now that you’re here, I’m even better.” 

There it was. That jolt in his chest.

It was much like a constant whenever he was with you. Whether you were with friends or not held little to no importance, it happened every time you said or did something that left his mind reeling with unrealistic possibilities. Normally, these things would be mildly dubious, like that one time where you wiped some sauce he had on his chin with your thumb — he dubbed that your motherly nature, you did similar stuff to pretty much everyone in your group. But you had hugged him, indicated his presence was a positive aspect in your life. He was about to overthink the hell out of that for the next two weeks.

“How much have you drunk?” You blink at him, pat the spot in front of you. He’s so focused on everything concerning you he doesn’t even feel the strain on his thighs from being on his knees. But he humours you anyway, sits across from you and mimics your position.

“M’drunk.” You shrug, “Not too drunk, but drunk. My feet hurt so I sat here, there’s nowhere else to sit.” 

“Kino’s room?”

“Yeah,” She snorts, throwing her head back, “That was my plan until I saw Jungwoo and Eunseo aggressively making out. I’ll pass.”

Mark’s eyes just about grow twice their size at your statement, “Jungwoo… and… Eunseo?” He pauses for some time, “Is it surprising that I’m actually not that surprised?”

“I’m not either. It’s like you’re expecting it but when it happens you’re surprised that it actually happened… It was a matter of time, I suppose.”

“I mean, she spends so much time at his place. I’m surprised, but not shocked.” He says, “It seems like everyone is getting a significant other, don’t you think?” His attempts at flirting are lame, yet he was going to try nevertheless, considering the circumstances you two were in, of course. 

“Everyone but me, m’forever alone.” You’re pouting dramatically, wringing your fingers together. He wishes he dared to say you didn’t need or were fit to be forever alone because right in front of you was someone who would die to make you his. 

But Mark was a coward. He would sooner shit his pants than say that out loud.

“Let’s cheer to that.” You take him seriously, rejoice at his suggestion, and drag him to the kitchen to get alcohol into his system. He doesn’t mind the implications of what he was about to do at all, you held his hand all the way through, only letting it go so you could grab a cup and mix a concoction you promised he wouldn’t regret drinking. And it wasn’t those palm in palm kind of hand-holding. You had your fingers laced in between his.

There’s a bitterness in the drink you hand him, yet he can still feel the sugar rush in the aftertaste. It’s something acidic, a mixture of passionfruit and lemon, and he winces at the first gulp only. It gets progressively easier when your eyes seem to make him burn a lot more than the alcohol.

One cup turns into two, two cups being enough to make him way past the tipsy stage. To make matter worse, Kino drops by the kitchen, slobbers a kiss on your cheek and offers you a blunt before skidding away. You get giddier than you already were, jumping around in your seat like a small child. It’s actually endearing.

Mark already knew Kino and some of the other guys indulged themselves with weed, and even if deep down he already knew you were one to do that too, it still shakes him a little.

It was kind of hot, the prospect of you smoking.

And he was about to witness it.

“This place is filth. Let’s go somewhere else.” You say. And by somewhere else you mean the floor. The one you two were sitting before you came here. But this time you find the rug in the living room empty and take him there, claiming you two should be comfortable.

His vision is spinning and blurry, the loud voices and music in the background muddled, and he curses himself for being such a lightweight. Mark was never much of a drinker.

You plop down on top of the fluffy red rug and he follows suit, watching you take a lighter from the back pocket of your jeans. You light the joint and take the first hit with calculated expertise only someone who did it way too frequently could pull off.

“M’conflicted.” You say after a while, blowing the smoke far from his face. Mark keeps quiet, just eyes you silently, waits for you. “I want to offer you the blunt because I don’t want to seem indelicate or selfish, but at the same time I don’t want to because I’d hate it if you felt pressured.”

There’s a twitch in his heartbeat. He hates it. “I… I have never done it before.” He gulps, pinching his hand to keep himself sane, “So I wouldn’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you. If you want.” You quip, the joint still poised against your finger, “Only if you want, though. It’s cool if you don’t, more for me.”

It’s somewhat a dilemma to him. He wants to try it, not because you’re the person he has been crushing on for quite a while, but because he was always curious about it. Lucas was his housemate after all, and getting contact high was inevitable around him. That small buzz he felt those times was appealing to him, it made him wonder how it would be if he experienced it firsthand. He had always been curious, but never really acted upon it. Until now, with you right in front of him, offering him a chance at squashing his curiosity. 

That was his problem. You.

Mark was all for taking risks, and experiencing what life had to offer, but only if the people embarking with him were his friends. His friends friends, who knew how fucking silly and weird he was, and that definitely didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to explode inside out. 

But here you were, right in front of him, being so incredible considerate it was borderline annoying how even tipsy he could feel every nerve end. 

“Okay. Yeah, teach me.” Those are some dangerous words, he realises after he says them. His tummy feels like it’s a pot of lava, burning and waiting until it spills over.

You scoot closer to him until your knees are knocking against his, smiling brightly when he jumps a little. “It’s no big deal, really. Put the joint between your index and middle finger.” He’s frowning in concentration, and to avoid any messy situations — because of your hazy surroundings — you grab his palm to steady it and put the spliff in between his ready fingers. 

“Feels weird…” He says, and you roll your eyes playfully.

“Of course, it’s your first time holding it. It’ll become second nature to you once you do it more often.” You hum a bit, “If you keep on doing it, that is.” You hope he does. You’re nowhere near prepared to see the glorious sight of Mark smoking, and if he decides it’s just not it for him you’ll have to store that mental picture forever in the depths of your brain.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the blunt, or if he does you miss it, so you continue instructing, “Now, you put it in between your lips, just the tip.” You’re aware of how blatantly sexually charged these instructions could sound to anyone else, and you were feeling it too. The crude images on the back of your lids were truly unnecessary when you were trying to teach the guy how to take a hit, not how to… do other things. You felt too hot in your clothes. “And you inhale. But lightly. I don’t want you to cough to death.”

Mark giggles at that, his shoulders less tense than before, “Okay,” He exhales nervously, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Lightly, Mark. Don’t forget it. After you inhale it, try to keep the smoke in for a little, and then you can push it out.” The hand he’s keeping free is wiped insistently against his jeans. Before the little rationality you have left on your brain kicks in, you put your hand on top of his and squeeze. As a way to comfort him. As a way to maybe let him magically know you had a stupid crush on him without saying it out loud. Who knows.

He inhales just like you taught him, the flame burning alive in front of you for a few seconds. The small cough he lets out is expected, and you laugh way more than you should have, considering it was his first time.

“You’re making fun of me!” He whines, the little pout adorning his lips testing your patience.

“M’sorry, Marky… It’s just cute, that’s all.” You mumble, feeling a blush take over your cheeks at your unfiltered confession. “Was it good? Did it feel nice?”

“It’s… different.” He places the joint back to his lips, takes a drag once again. His eyes widen at the intensity, and the way he exhales the smoke seems like he’s somewhat disgusted. “This shit is strong as fuck, Jesus.”

“Kino has a soft spot for me.” You shrug. 

“It seems like everyone has a soft spot for you,”

“I wouldn’t say that,” You roll your eyes at his statement, “I just feel like I have really good friends. I love them a lot. They mean so much to me I don’t think I can put it in words.”

Normally, you weren’t much of an emotionally forward person. The dullness in your life had never allowed you such novelties. 

Sometimes it truly felt like you were void of them, void of the feeling of showing someone how much you cared, outwardly. That changed when you got drunk, or high. It was as if every repressed emotion you crushed into the pit of your being just spilled out without any warning. You didn’t mind it though, neither did your friends. Jungwoo said it was a very you thing but still berated you constantly with hugs, which you didn’t mind. Eunseo always bragged about being the only person with whom you were affectionate. Kino and Vernon probably didn’t even realise it. Eunwoo and Yeeun were similar to you except when they were alone together.

“I’m glad, really. You deserve it.” He’s looking at you in a way you can’t possibly describe because he’s Mark Lee after all. And he could be looking at you in ten million different ways and you wouldn’t be able to decipher which one corresponds to how he’s really feeling. Sometimes you wished you could crack open his skull and take a peek inside his mysterious brain. 

The two of you keep chatting and passing the blunt to each other, the paper burning at the tip of your fingers as time flew by. Your eyes were droopy and your vision blurry, Mark’s body becoming one with the background. Even if you had important things to take care of, there was nowhere else you’d rather be than there with him. And so the two of you keep passing the blunt back and forth, enjoying each other’s company in silence.

Two minutes or five hours could have passed, and you wouldn’t even realise it. You’re unaware of how it happens but when you come back to your senses you have your cheek pressed against someone’s chest, their hand loosely wrapped around your back. At first, you assume it’s Jungwoo or any other of your friends. But the gentle pout of lips you see when you raise your head slightly tells you otherwise.

It was Mark.

If you were in your right state of mind, your heart would probably be catapulting out of your chest, splattering against the nearest window. Lucky for you, the weed just leaves you calm, and the slow drum of your heartbeat proves it.

There’s a sudden startling commotion in the room, voices rising in pitch as they start screaming a countdown. The countdown for New Year’s, those specific ten (and plus) seconds that held so much meaning for so many people, but to you had always been sort of a silly thing you did with your friends. When it came to the dreaded New Year’s kiss last year, Eunseo had been your partner since both of you were single and close enough to peck each other amid a drunken state.

“10! 9!”

The year was about to end and Eunseo was nowhere in sight. You figured she was finally smooching the hell out of Jungwoo, leaving you alone to kiss the back of your hand. You didn’t even have the strength in you to get up from Mark’s comfortable hold to go bother her about it.

8! 7!

Right. 

The year was about to end and you were cuddling Mark Lee in your best friend’s living room, tucked away in a corner where no one could see you both. You sit up, the arm he had around you sliding to the rug. He only opens his eyes for a second before he closes them, a smile permanently etched on his lips.

6!

These stupid traditions were not your thing. 

You were not getting swayed into kissing someone just because 2019 was six seconds away. Though it had been too long since you kissed someone. To make matters worse, you were a needy drunk.

5!

Sure, you weren’t one to fall through with silly traditions. But then again, you had a crush on Mark and he was a breath away from you, looking so peaceful it hurt you to even disrupt him. And you had liquid courage coursing through your veins.

Maybe you were going to kiss someone this year. 

To keep the tradition going.

4!

The seconds are ticking by, and there’s a foreign weight settling on top of Mark’s thighs. When he opens his eyes, he is almost sure he’s dreaming, the weed he had smoked fabricating cruel inceptions out of spite. Because the prospect of you really sitting on his lap, legs caging his, was so unrealistic he had to prop himself on his elbows, gaze wide and unblinking as if he was being deceived, scared it would vanish.

3!

You don’t have much time left. 

Processing the fact you were about to kiss Mark Lee for the sake of tradition — an excuse you would take with you to your grave, and the excuse you would give to anyone and everyone who asked you about it — was making you sober, the rush of acknowledging your decision clearing up your vision just enough so you could see how beautiful he looked.

He really was stupidly attractive. And you were going to kiss him.

“Mark,” You yell over the voices, scooting yourself closer to his waist and leaning closer to his face, “M’gonna kiss you, okay?”

2!

This was a dream, it had to be. Reality was probably playing sick tricks on his mind. Still, the weak, cowardly part of him was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

So he nodded towards you — the fabricated version of you sitting prettily on top of him.

1!

You were one second from kissing Mark Lee.

Before the last second dissipates you clasp the sides of his face gently, eyes zooming in on his lips. He swipes his tongue over them just then, and it resonates so deep within you it’s imperative to close that space distancing the both of you.

“Happy New Year!”

Calculated plans usually looked and sounded better in theory, when they were just a pencil-drawn draft with little annotations scribbled around it. The end result doesn’t always go exactly as planned. Theoretically, Mark and you were supposed to be passionately making out as others did the same around you. You had envisioned it clearly in the few seconds you had before putting your plan into action.

That’s not what happens.

You miserably miss your aim by a few centimetres and end up kissing half of his mouth instead, the force behind the puckering of your lips so strong he loses his balance, elbows giving out below him. There’s some nose bumping on his jaw, chests touching, a mess of limbs even the non-sober you feels embarrassed about. Mark knocks his head quite harshly against the rug, but his reaction ends up being a laugh. This severely high-pitched squeak like he’s truly in disbelief.

(He wasn’t dreaming, after all.)

“You okay?” He keeps on laughing loudly as you put your hand behind the nape of his neck, “Stop laughing, you idiot!”

His laugh is also stupidly contagious. As if every other quality he had wasn’t enough to make you like him. So you end up laughing with him, put your head on his chest again and listen to the sound of his heartbeat.

You’d worry about the consequences tomorrow.

You prided yourself for never getting serious hangovers in the past — usually, alcohol ran fast in your system and by the end of each night you drank plenty of water to avoid those terrible happenstances. Being the designated drunk mom of your group didn’t come with many perks after all. But the dull throb palpitating in your temples was a telltale on its own. When you opened your eyes, it only intensified. The blinds had little sits in which the light came in, and they only seemed to worsen your state.

If a pile of shit was a state of mind, it would be exactly how you were feeling.

The kitchen is completely spotless when you enter it, the bottles and snacks that used to be littering every possible surface simply gone. It’s not much of a surprise since Kino abhors having a messy house, his reasoning being one’s personal space reflects one’s inner self. Another thing that’s not a surprise is the fact that Kino is cooking, his back to you as he concocts something you are pretty sure it won’t disappoint you. Vernon is as useless as one can be in the kitchen; if it wasn’t for Kino he would be living off of frozen meals and warm tap water.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.” He only acknowledges your presence when you sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, resting your closed eyes against your palms due to the sunlight hurting them. You don’t even make an effort to look at him.

“Afternoon— Jesus. How much have I slept?”

“It’s almost 3PM.”

“Jesus Christ. Get me some sunglasses, will you?”

He snorts but still obeys. It takes a minute for him to come back, yet when he does he drops not only the sunglasses in front of you — which you scramble to put them on —, but an Advil alongside a water bottle as well. “Can’t believe I’m friends with a real-life vampire. Do you want to feast on me for breakfast?”

“Shut up,” You groan, pausing to unscrew the bottle and down the pill, “I’m a wreck.”

“That you are. We found you last night drooling on Mark’s chest. The boy was positively spooked for life.” You nearly give yourself whiplash with how quickly you glance up to a head-shaking Kino, yet he turns his back on you and goes back to preparing his food.

There are a lot of things you want to ask: if Mark was okay, if he had told anyone what happened, how he had left, if he really had been spooked by your whole behaviour — even the one you prayed only you and him knew about, but you compose yourself before all of those questions tumbled out of your mouth without you even wanting it.

“What did he say?” A seemingly innocent question on your behalf. You couldn’t show too much emotion.

“Not much, if I’m being honest,” He shrugs, reaching upwards to grab two bowls from the white cupboard, “Just told us to get you safe on a bed and to make sure you drank water. He was baked as hell, by the way. I didn’t peg him as a stoner.”

Your heartbeat picked up unconsciously at his display of concern, once again. “He’s not. It was his first time yesterday.”

“Look at you, you little nymph, luring the innocent boy in with your illegal ways.” He’s taunting you, you can feel it. Kino always knows more than he lets on, it’s one of his specialties besides being incredibly insightful and introspective. There’s this little smirk on the right corner of his mouth you are entirely too familiar with. He doesn’t say anything else, just puts down the bowls of rice mixed with vegetables and scrambled eggs on the table, and sits on the chair opposite of yours. 

“I know, right? I’m such a bad influence. Someone tattoo BAD FRIEND on my forehead, please.” You roll your eyes, spoon digging into the mixture, “Speaking of bad friends. Where are Jungwoo and Eunseo?”

“They—”

“I know. I saw them eating each other’s faces off last night, unfortunately.”

He shudders, “They left together. It was painstakingly obvious, but it still threw me the fuck off. If he does so much as comment about what they did, I’ll choke him to death.”

“The fucker would probably like it.” You say in between a mouthful of food.

“That’s what worries me the most.”

The conversation dies down comfortably after that, both of you indulging in your bowls of food and throwing the expected occasional jabs that came along with befriending an idiot. Your friendship and Kino’s was just like that, there was this mutual understanding that neither of you pressured the other into spilling their hidden thoughts or emotions to the other. The glint in his eyes was loud enough, it said ‘I’ll be here whenever you need me. Take your time. Don’t rush things. They need patience to grow, to gain form’. Each one of your friendships was different, distinct in their own special and important way. Kino’s held a dear place in your heart for the eminent trust rooted in its foundation. You would always find a safe haven in his presence.

“Oh, that’s right. Yesterday, Mark also told me you should check your phone after you woke up.”

“You only tell me that now? We should skip strangling Jungwoo, I think you should be the one to go first.” You push the chair back and get up, making your way to the room while your friend only laughs.

“It’s probably on the bed!” He yells.

The blinds are still closed, so you paw around the bed aimlessly until your fingers clutch the glass screen of your phone. You don’t even grab it, you just throw yourself onto the bed and frantically tap the screen twice so it comes to life.

You could swear you had never clicked on something so fast.

[03:09] mark: I know you’d probably say to text you when I got home safe so

[03:09] mark: I got home safe

[03:11] mark: Rocky was the designated driver last night lol Lucas and I were fucking out of our minds

[03:24] mark: I already told kino but make sure to drink a shit ton of water, you’re not getting a hangover on my watch

[03:25] mark: Text me when you get up so I know you’re okay

[03:36] mark: Tonight was a dream

[03:49] mark: Goodnight

[13:33] you: hiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[13:34] you: i’m glad you got home okay!!!! you know damn well i’d freak tf out if you didn’t lmk

[13:42] you: btw i’m sorry i drooled on your shirt. and got you high as a kite. amongst other things……. lmao 

[13:45] you: woke up with a bitching headache but i’ve drunk water and taken an advil so worry not kind sir

[13:53] mark: Good morningg

[13:53] mark: Have you eaten yet?

[13:53] mark: I mean good afternoon lol

[13:54] you: gmornin!! yes kino cooked for me omg:( i love him

[13:54] mark: Also don’t apologize you dummy, I really didn’t mind any of it

Grabbing the pillow from beneath you, you put it over your head to stifle the embarrassing yet necessary scream you let out. Mark hadn’t given you any sign he didn’t remember the sad excuse of a kiss you shared last night, so you would have a little bit of faith in him, pray to the Gods he dared to make the next move since you had already taken quite the leap.

The ball was in his court now.

Or you hoped so.

For someone who had the ball in his court, Mark Lee did absolutely nothing that proved it. You were dreading for a move on the inside, every single moment you spent with him leaving you analysing in detail all his mannerisms and actions while hoping something would be a dead give away of a smidge of retaliation to your feelings. 

Nothing. Weeks went by, and nothing happened. Nothing. Nada.

The hope you once felt dissolved slowly into plain misery and heartbreak like toxic acid on untainted skin. And still, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you bend and break before him, even if you didn’t really believe he was at fault.

At the end of the day, Mark never did anything specific that could be interpreted as flirting or as a suggestion of different intentions other than a friendship. You were foolish to believe he’d look at you in any different way: you had created expectations all by yourself and now you were left to collect the shards of not only your broken heart but the hope you had built up alone as well.

He never mentioned the kiss, never even allowed himself to be presented in any other way than the way he always was, the social, happy-go-lucky boy everyone loved to be around. And you were stuck pretending you felt fine, pretending everything was okay. You should have known better than to even dream someone like him was interested in someone like you. Becoming his friend had already been a marvelous feat considering how much of a disparity existed between you two.

You delve into your studies to take your mind off of him, which works out for the best, really. Getting good grades, as a result, soothes your heart in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before you know it, the semester ends. 

The gang meets up after the last exam at Jungwoo’s house to discuss plans for the holidays. One month was a lot of time, so some of you are expecting to visit your parents for the most part, while saving the last week for the group trip. Not any group trip, the group trip. This was going to be your second year, and you were excited to go back.

“What about you, ___?” Eunseo inquires from her spot where she has only one foot on top of Jungwoo like she was lazily claiming her property. The two had started dating on the first day of the year and since then they had been the grossest yet cutest couple to ever exist. “Jungwoo, Mark, Vernon, and I are staying for the whole month. I don’t really feel like going back to my mom’s.”

You look at Mark to find him already looking at you in the same way he always did. It used to bemuse you but now it only irritates you. He looks dead inside. Averting your sight from him with the most stoic expression you can give, you then hum, “I think I might go home. I really miss my family.”

“No,” Jungwoo moans, dragging on the vowel, “Stay with us, ___. Please.”

“And risk me into getting roped in couple activities with the lovebirds? Thanks, but I’ll pass.” You snort, and Kino joins in.

“We’re gonna miss you, though.”

“Yeah,” Mark adds, “You always make the mood better.”

Your heart still skips a beat for him, there was no denying that. Even listening to his voice was enough to make your mind reel, but now you were no longer on cloud 9. Rationality had taken control of your heart. Getting over this stupid crush was the best for everyone, especially for you.

“Sucks for you, because I can’t wait to take a break from seeing you almost every day.” You looked Mark dead in the eyes as you said it, desperate to make him understand the coldness of your speech had a reason. You were hurting on the inside, though you couldn’t let it show. Words of indifference and annoyance were your defense mechanisms, the armour you had to built to preserve and protect yourself. Before your words felt too personal and too targeted at someone in specific, you quipped, “You guys tire me.”

The laugh was collective, but Mark’s was forced. Maybe his eyes were unable to make you see his true self, but the way he squared his shoulders while he laughed couldn’t fool anyone, not even you.

It seemed like the shoe had fit. He looked uncomfortable.

Good. 

Mission accomplished.

Seeing your mom smiling at you because she missed you was almost enough to make you sob right in front of her. 

But you don’t do that.

You only allow yourself to break down when you close the door to your childhood bedroom, the secureness it transmitted being enough to break apart the dam holding you together by the seams. It wasn’t like the tears rushing down your cheeks were there only because of how stupid you felt for liking Mark. Sure, part of it was because of that too, but you had the tendency to bottle your emotions until they couldn’t be contained anymore, so everything that had caused you pain during the past few months was being let out after suffering repression for a long time.

Spending three weeks in the company of your family proved to be a better remedy than you expected. Even the inevitable arguments and misunderstandings were welcomed, for they brought a sense of nostalgia which calmed the storm inside of you. In the times you isolated yourself in your room, it gave you a safe space to freely think about everything surrounding you, especially the Mark situation. 

He didn’t want to talk about the kiss, and that was fine. You were sure he had a reason for it, namely not wanting to go through the whole I’m sorry but I don’t see you like that scenario, which once again, was understandable. Mark didn’t owe you anything. You had set up the trap and fell for it all on your own.

You still talked to Mark throughout your time away from the group, because you’d hate yourself even more if you alienated him for something that shouldn’t intervene in your friendship. It was weird at first, the chemistry and dynamic between the both of you didn’t change whatsoever, which was good. Whenever he mentioned doing Facetime you always found an excuse to avoid seeing his face. Hearing his voice in the inevitable phone calls you did was already causing so much damage to begin with, imagine if you tended to his every wish. You would never improve. But you held on and followed through with it, as you knew you would. 

Those three weeks made you rationalise your feelings, swallow them whole and cage them in the depths of your chest. The longer you kept on daydreaming about you and Mark doing mundane couple things instead of focusing on the harsh reality that he didn’t like you back, the more it was going to hurt.

So when you got back in the city you deemed yourself normal again.

Jungwoo gave one of his infamous dramatic speeches about you never leaving his side again otherwise he would commit atrocities, while Eunseo did her best as the supporting role of a sidekick. These two were the closest to you out of everyone else, and the fact that they were dating now used to scare you in the beginning. Scared they would eventually distance themselves from the group like many couples do when they start dating. But that ended up being far from the truth since they annoyed the hell out of each other so frequently they even begged to be away from each other whenever they were with other friends.

The gang only had one week left until the second semester began, and this meant it was time for your group trip.

Besides being several things, Jungwoo was also absolutely loaded. Well, his parents were rich, which technically made him rich too, though he always preferred to say he just lived a comfortable life.

When the two of you met in your first year of college, in a class both of you were starting to abhor, you would never imagine how close you would become in the span of a few months. But little by little, your group began to form — Eunseo and Vernon came next, then Kino — and when the end of the first semester neared, he had suggested for the lot of you to head down to his vacation house, the one he went to every Summer. The prospect of going to a place like that in the middle of February was ridiculous until he said he had an indoor pool. Just like any other person who lived comfortably.

This year, though, there were going to be new additions to the trip. Including, of course, Mark and Lucas.

Everything was going to end up just fine because, at the end of the day, your friends were there. And no matter what happened, they were more than enough for you.

The downfall of Kim Jungwoo was being too kind and considerate of others no matter what the situation was. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no to most requests, especially if those came from someone who he considered a great friend of his. He really disliked seeing other people unhappy or lonely.

One hour into the drive to your destination for the next week, shit had already hit the fan. Jungwoo breaks the news that some friends of Mark and Lucas’s friends were tagging along because they were going to be left all alone back in the city without anyone else to keep them company. Lucas supposedly mentioned quite aloofly that statement, and Jungwoo, ever the altruist saviour, couldn’t resist but to make a proposal.

Eunseo almost choked on her gum, Vernon was sleeping with his head resting against Kino’s shoulder, Kino made this awfully funny stank expression, and as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t really avoid the poker face after he drops that bomb on the four of you.

“Are you fucking serious? Again?” Eunseo sounds completely exasperated, rightfully so. You were thankful she was taking the lead, as his girlfriend, it was more acceptable if the nagging came from her, and not from you. Even if deep down you were itching to slap the side of his head.

“Listen,” He tries to reason, side-eyeing her to keep his focus on the road, “They were going to be all alone until the semester started! And it’s not like we can’t accommodate two more people. My house is enough for all of us.”

She scoffs, “It’s not about the size of your fucking house, Jungwoo. It’s about how you just said fuck it to a comfortable environment between people who know each other to bring two more people because you pity them!”

“I know, honey,” His voice is soft, a twinge of regret and desperation coming through, “They know Mark and Lucas, though! It will turn out okay, trust me.”

You doubted it, but you couldn’t possibly hold some judgment or impact over Jungwoo invited over to his house. It was his after all, and if he had deemed fit inviting people who weren’t apart of your group of friends, you just had to accept it. Much like when Mark, Lucas, and Rocky came over to Jungwoo’s place for movie night. They were strangers to the rest (except Mark, but well, no one knew about the circumstances of your prior acquaintanceship except the both of you), but your best friend really tried hard to make his both group of friends become one.

If these friends were like Rocky, who unfortunately had gone abroad with his parents for vacations and couldn’t be present, maybe the environment was going to be amicable, fun even. You were willing to keep an open mind, despite the primary discomfort of mingling with people you weren’t familiar with refusing to wear off.

Eunseo slapped Jungwoo’s hand when he tried to hold it across the console, and you closed your eyes, repeating everything will turn out fine in your head over and over like a mantra until it became true. 

Fake it ’til you make it.

Someone had to be playing some kind of sick, cruel, and twisted trick on you.

Whoever was pulling the strings up there in the sky, God, that abstract deity or deities, were definitely set on making you suffer. Or perhaps someone who was into voodoo had a little stuffed doll version of you, and they found pleasure in pinpricking you whenever they were bored. That person must have been bored to death because nothing had prepared you for what you saw when you stepped out of the car.

You knew it was over as soon as your eyes landed on the two petite, dainty, and incredibly beautiful girls in front of you.

In your stupid, dumb, sad excuse of a brain, these friends Jungwoo was talking about were boys, rowdy, stupid boys, to match the rowdy, stupid energy Mark and Lucas emanated whenever they were together. It never crossed your mind, the possibility of these friends being girls, so unaware yet so powerfully able to destroy your self-confidence and childish hope that something would blossom between Mark and you. One of them, the tallest one with long wavy dark brown hair, has her arm on Mark’s shoulder as she laughs, head thrown back like he had just told the best joke of the century.

You feel sick to your stomach, there’s something akin to bile rising to your throat and you furiously try to swallow it down alongside the feelings you thought you had buried and locked safely in the confines of your chest.

“Guys!” Lucas bellows, and everyone’s attention shifts to your group, “Now the party can officially begin!”

A forced smile breaks on your lips, the kind everyone could see how fake it was. The girl’s hand slides from his shoulder as Mark shuffles forward, eyes on you, towards where you were standing next to Kino. The anxiety makes you grab his arm for safety, to keep you from acting stupid. You can tell Mark knows something is up by the way he scrunches his nose at your small, dismissive wave in his direction, but he neither says nor does anything about it. Thankfully.

The girls — the petty, hungry and jealous monster living inside of you ached to call them intruders — introduced themselves as Yoojung and Doyeon, the latter being the one who had been cosying all up on Mark. Much to your dismay, they’re both incredibly sweet and genuine people, to the point of helping the rest of you set up everything in the house so your stay is comfortable.

On the first night, Doyeon cooks everyone dinner and nothing but high praises are sung to the food she makes. Mark repeats the dish twice, compliments leaving his mouth incessantly, and the dagger piercing through your heart is dug deeper. You were painfully aware that she wasn’t to blame, but when even your friends begin asking for more of it, you were bound to feel the metaphorical blow on your stomach. The cook of the group was you. The person whose food always had everyone raving about was you. You can’t even stomach more than three bites before you say you’re not feeling too well.

 It was starting to resemble like that fateful movie night all over again, with you feeling retracted and alienated. For the remainder of the night, you claim to be extremely tired due to the traveling and withdraw yourself to the room you shared with Eunseo, — since she still wasn’t completely over the stunt he had pulled, but you just knew she was going to trade places with Kino midweek, who was rooming with Jungwoo for the time being — covering your entire body with the duvet. You can hear the cacophony of laughter coming from the living room. It rings in your ears until you fall asleep.

On day two, you wake up earlier than usual. Scoping around the enormous place, you find that no one else is awake, just you. Not even Lucas, who was curled in a ball on the U-shaped sofa, snoring. You tiptoe your way to the kitchen, set on making something guilt-free to ease the relentless growling of your stomach. After last night’s dinner, you were positively starving.

Cooking had always been something you loved to do as a hobby. As a kid, you had watched your grandmother, and your mother too, make the most delicious food with so much gusto it was inevitable for you to follow their steps and prove how cooking ran in your blood. Acknowledging how good you were at it was far from bragging: it was barely the result of kinship. So it was safe to say your ego was bruised at the lack of request from your friends to cook last night’s meal. This particular breakfast was meant to be therapeutic, to settle the sensitive nerves you had clawing inside of you.

You were finishing pouring the first spoon of pancake batter onto the oiled frying pan when the scraping of a chair against the floor sounds behind you, announcing someone else was now with you. The sudden heaviness clutching around your heart is a foresight, it’s like your body had become so in tune to his you were now able to feel his presence without any of your five senses.

“Good morning.” You don’t turn back to look at him, afraid the sight of a sleepy Mark would devastate you beyond the point of no return. 

“Morning,” He hums. You’re floored at how sultry and comforting his voice sounds. “What are you making?”

You were silly to think sharing a vicinity for a whole week with the person you were crushing on was going to be okay. The hand holding the scoop trembled pathetically against the bowl, and you hadn’t even look at him whatsoever. Every little thing concerning him was enough to make your heart grow in size and volume until it occupied the entirety of your chest.

“Nutella pancakes.”

Mark groans, the sound rumbling deep from his chest, and it’s so effective in the way it elicits a shiver down your spine, “That sounds amazing. Care to share some with this boy who feels like crap?”

That’s enough to make you face him. As expected, it shakes you to your very core. You couldn’t even muster up beautiful and coherent thoughts about how good he looked. His hair is obviously finger brushed, yet there’s a cowlick standing cutely stiff against the rest; the urge to put it down is so immense you claw your nails in the meaty part of your palm. “Did something happen?”

“I could say the same thing to you. You barely ate yesterday, and fled so quickly I didn’t even see you.”

You roll your eyes, but inside you’re scrambling to find an excuse while you go back to your main task, “It’s called being car sick, Mark. I’m not used to really long drives.”

“Sure,” His lips twist as a visual cue to show he didn’t truly believe your words. “If you must know, I feel like crap because I didn’t check up on you.” 

You hum once again, taking a dollop of Nutella and dropping it in the middle of the pancake before covering it with another scoop of batter. He continues, “I was going to, though. Then decided against it because I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Maybe you should have.” You say, using the spatula next to you to flip the pancake, “I wouldn’t have minded the company.”

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs. You don’t reply, and the pancake sizzling on the stove speaks on your behalf.

Silence wraps around you so uncomfortably your skin crawls at how awkward it feels. What were you supposed to say? ‘No, Mark, I’m the one who should be sorry for acting all stupid around you’? Or perhaps saying ‘The reason I’m acting this weird is because I have a big, fat crush on you and seeing you act all chummy with an attractive girl makes me want to bash my head against a wall’ would reflect the dangerous tides drowning you better. So you do what you always do best, and place your feelings in front of him in the form of probably the most perfect looking pancakes ever. He would never realise it, and at this point neither did you want him to. The sting of being rejected had over-imposed itself over any fake bravado you could possibly pour out. 

He digs in like he hadn’t eaten for days, the moan coming out of his moan paired with his eyes rolling back into his skull so obscene it propels you to swivel your body so you could actually make something for you to eat.

You sit across from him while you eat your breakfast, and all Mark does is stare at you in the meanwhile. It weighs burdensomely on your shoulders for the first minutes, then disappears when the familiarity settles in. After you’re done, you go back to your room with exhaustion seeping through your pores as if you hadn’t slept in years. 

He doesn’t get up after you, just stays there sitting on the chair.

On day three, you try to keep a more positive aspect about every possible outcome. Sulking around in possibly one of the best occasions had little to no sense. You mingle a lot more with everyone, including Jooyoung and Doyeon. It pained you to admit, but they were really sweet, witty girls, which made it incredibly hard for you to hate Doyeon when she was so likable and genuine.

You didn’t want to be consumed by this restricting feeling of insecurity whenever she was around, because really, she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Sure, she was extremely touchy when it came to Mark, it seemed like she had to be touching him in any way, whether it was the side of their arms touching whenever they were sitting down — because they always ended up sitting next to each other, leaving you to be sandwiched between Lucas and Kino — or her hand seeking solace in the slope of his shoulder as she laughed and leaned forward, but that could be simply coincidental. Or maybe Doyeon and you were on the same boat, sharing a crush on the most oblivious guy on Earth. Yet the difference between the both of you lied in the fact that she wasn’t afraid to act upon it unlike you. Even if you had kissed him, which was probably way more than she had ever done. 

But Mark either didn’t remember, or he was pretending not to.

By the end of the afternoon of the third day, everyone seemed to be in the mood for a dip in the indoor pool. And your nightmare began to unravel from that moment onwards.

If Doyeon already looked absolutely stunning with loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and minimal makeup, it was no wonder she was five times better with a swimsuit and barefaced. The simple pink one-piece she was wearing outshined your navy striped one by a long shot. You never really stood a chance against her to begin with, but now that everyone was as less clothed as one could be in public, you were feeling insecure beyond words.

Especially because Mark and she kept on splashing water towards one another, the underlying tones of flirting barely visible to anyone else but you. The way he ruffled up his wet hair, his lips parting whenever she spoke, the crinkling in his eyes. It all made nausea boil up in your throat, so you tried to distract yourself by playing silly games with your friends. Pretending was your strong suit.

Or you liked to believe it was.

That night Doyeon huddles in a sweatshirt that is too big to be hers with her head poised delicately on Mark’s shoulder, and whatever resolve to keep being strong you thought you had withered away, the bitter poison of definite heartbreak taking over and spreading like an incurable virus.

This was it.

You had reached your limit, there was no going back. A silent sob tears through your throat, your hand reaching to clamp over your mouth to prevent any sound from coming out. This was too much, even for you. Parading his probable relationship in front of everyone while completely forgetting to acknowledge what happened in New Year’s Eve was proving to be too cruel. Never in your life did you think Mark Lee, the person who you didn’t believe had a bad bone in his body, was capable of crushing your ribcage and whatever was inside into fine dust. 

The waters had completely pulled you under, and there was an anchor strapped to your ankle continuously dragging you down until you no longer could fight back.

You had taken for granted how sweet it was to breathe.

Eunseo is sitting on her bed, back leaning against the headboard when you storm in with your face blearing red and tearful. Her eyes catch yours and your knees buckle under the metaphorical pending weight of your heartbreak, still covering your mouth to stifle the ugly sobs reverberating against your palm. 

It was funny how amid your sinkage, the main thought going through your mind was not to alert anyone but to suffer in silence and alone. But it seemed like she wasn’t going to allow that.

You hear the clicking of your bedroom door closing followed by frantic hands grabbing your shoulders. Your best friend has shock painted all over her face, like this façade you were allowing her to witness was not one she was expecting.

“What happened?” Her voice is shaky, hands shaking your frame, “___, what the hell is going on?” There’s no strength left in you, you can’t even support your own weight, let alone verbalise the tsunami inside your chest. Eunseo lets you drop your body against her, her arms wrapping around you to cradle your head against the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

She doesn’t pry any further, and for that you are thankful. You just keep on crying quietly while her fingers run through your hair, humming a tune so soft and sweet it lulls you to sleep, the now dry tears leaving stain marks in its stead.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find yourself sharing a bed with your best friend. She is latched onto you so tightly it almost glues back the broken pieces of your heart back into place, and the protective streak it possesses brings a fresh wave of tears to your waterline, but you hold it back because you already feel too bad for ruining her — it was Jungwoo’s, actually — shirt. Sleep comes back to you once again, the headache resulting from your mental breakdown dissipating in the process. When the morning comes and both of you are awake, she lets you be the one to open up instead of being the one to poke through your sensitive state.

“I…” Red burns your cheek yet for a different reason than yesterday. You felt so disgustingly embarrassed to confess to another person about your innermost feelings, disregarding the fact this was one of the people you trusted the most. “I like someone.”

“I see,” Her reaction is neutral. She’s void of facial expression as if she’s cautious with the way she should react to your words. “You like someone. And the reason you cried yesterday was because of this person.”

You gulp, “Yeah. It was.”

“This person hurt you.” Eunseo doesn’t ask any questions. She resorts to making blanket statements to help you untangle the mess going on inside of you. As if you didn’t already love her enough.

“He did, but I don’t know if it was intentional.” You laugh low on your throat, shake your head in disbelief. “He’s so fucking oblivious about everything, I highly doubt it was.”

“What happened yesterday was prompted by something you saw, then.”

She was getting closer to unveiling the grand truth. The thrum of your heartbeat picked up as if your body was giving you a sign that even if it felt like you had drowned, it was still beating for you. You were still alive. You weren’t okay, but you hadn’t died because of it. “Yeah,” Confirming it was leeway to compressing the scope of potential people. She now knew it was someone in Jungwoo’s house.

“Okay, correct me if I’m wrong. You like someone so much it made you break down, and that said someone is currently in this house. Therefore it’s a person you and I both know quite well, except if it is either Jooyoung or Doyeon. Which I highly doubt because you haven’t known them for longer than four days, and the fact you said he.”

You scoff, flicking her on the forehead, and Eunseo tries to swat your hand away but fails. “Of course it’s not them. Who do you think I am?”

“I was just crossing people from the list,” She shrugs, “This was the easiest way. I also suppose you’re not in love with Jungwoo.”

“Eunseo! What the fuck!” You shove her now, appalled. She laughs aloud at your reaction, and it only makes you even madder. 

“Oh, bite me, will you?” She huffs before shaking her head with a grin, “It’s called process of elimination. “I have to narrow my options here. Do you want me to take a guess or do you want to tell me who the person is by yourself?”

And there it was again, the stinging of incoming tears behind your eyelids. They don’t come out, however.

You knew to cry meant you had held on for too long, but you couldn’t shake the nagging perception that it somewhat weakened you. Especially since the reason behind it was related to the mechanics of your heart. But this was Eunseo, your best friend. The person who had been there for you through thick and thin, while never belittling you for your complex way of being.

She deserved honesty. 

Even if finally admitting it to someone out loud was beyond scary.

“It’s…” You take a deep breath, “It’s Mark.”

She doesn’t show any major physical reaction to your confession, zeroes in on something behind you and keeps her gaze there for a few seconds. It’s unsettling to you, the anxiety buzzing underneath your skin as you wait for her to react.

“Oh my God,” You whine. It has been too long since she has spoken, and it was slowly getting on your nerves, “Just say something.”

She exhales loudly, her shoulders sagging, “Am I allowed to freak out?” You roll your eyes at her comment but nod nonetheless. Any reaction was better than none. “This is so exciting. I’ve been holding it in since yesterday but now I can finally lose my shit.”

“This is not exciting, Eunseo.” You frown. There wasn’t anything exciting about heartbreak. “He doesn’t like me back. These feelings I have aren’t mutual.”

“And how do you know he doesn’t like you?”

“Because yesterday he was all cuddled up next to Doyeon as if we didn’t fucking kiss on New Year’s Eve!” Thinking about it again made the anger you tried to tamper down close to surface. Mark was cruel.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait. Kissed?! I haven’t had time to process the fact that you even like someone, and you drop the K bomb on me like this? Tell me everything. From the beginning.”

And that’s what you do. You tell Eunseo about how you two go way back, way farther than everyone else thinks you go. 

You tell her about how your high school experience hadn’t been the best, and how Mark was the person you had always aspired to be back then. How popular and versatile he was. About how meeting him two years later had been extremely uncomfortable because a person like him wasn’t supposed to mingle with your people, yet there he had been, laughing at what Jungwoo was saying. About how you had reluctantly given this friendship thing a try, since her boyfriend was so keen on him and his friends, and since deep down you had always wanted to see how he was truly like. 

You tell Eunseo about how well you two match. How every conversation was never-ending, like an infinite, sturdy string that went for miles and miles and never stopped. How caring, and genuine he had always been, even in high school. You tell her about how little by little your resolve wore off, and his company began to feel both needed and appreciated. How on New Year’s Eve you get drunk together, and you teach him how to smoke. 

You tell your best friend how you both ended up cuddling on the rug of Jungwoo’s living room. And you tell her about how compelled you had felt to kiss him when the countdown began. Not because of some lame fucking tradition like you had tried to convince yourself, but because you really wanted to. You had never wanted anything in your life so badly.

Heartbreakingly, you tell her then about how the saddening part of the story unfolds. He doesn’t acknowledge your kiss, he doesn’t make a move, he doesn’t give you so much as an inch of leeway to convince yourself he could be feeling the same thing as you were.

By the time your storytelling ends, her hand is overlapping yours in what you consider empathy. She’s rubbing the back of it with her thumb, and the way she’s looking at you makes the lump in your throat almost lurch. You want to cry, to show how sad you were, though you don’t do it. Yesterday’s shenanigans had proved themselves to be enough — you were mentally tired. There was no more room or strength to do so.

“I can’t believe all of this happened underneath our noses and we never realised it…” She’s incredibly surprised, that much you can tell. Her face scrunches like she’s trying to remember something, and you just keep looking at her in amusement. “I seriously just thought the two of you were really good friends.”

“And we are.” You pause, remember how recently things hadn’t been that okay on your side. “Or were. I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like it will be really difficult for me to pretend that nothing is affecting me, because I have the urge to punch someone every time I see them together.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I noticed that they’re close but I just assumed it’s because they’re friends.”

“That’s such flawed logic.” You roll your eyes, crossing your arms against your chest. “You and Jungwoo were also close but there was nothing platonic about it.”

“That’s differen— Okay. You’re right. So what are you gonna’ do?”

“There’s really nothing I can do. I’ll have to get over him.” You shrug innocently, and Eunseo glares at you. She wants to call you unbearable, you know it. “Three more days to go, and then I can put my distance.”

You can tell she wants to lecture you, tell you to find another way other than giving up. But she doesn’t, in true Eunseo fashion. 

The rest of that day is spent holed up inside your room without contacting or interaction with anyone except Eunseo, who takes one for the team and keeps you company during the whole time. She tells you Mark asks for you when she gets back from getting snacks on the break between the second and third Harry Potter movie you were marathoning on Netflix. You shrug in response, drink big gulps of water as if it would drown your feelings to death.

Sometimes you wished that was possible.

Day five arrives, and the prospect of things looking up is nothing but a mere pathetic theory. Quite on the contrary, it’s on day five where everything gets worse than worst. 

Throughout the day, the interactions between Mark and Doyeon are so disgusting to your whole system that you actually end up dry heaving against the toilet, retches tormenting you as you try to make sense of the situation. You had reached the lowest of lows, the rock bottom. 

But this wasn’t you. This had never been you. Not even back in high school where you longed to belong somewhere.

The migraines had been the only constant on that trip, and they kept on becoming stronger and stronger as the days went by, much like your mood. You had gotten to the point where the only people you tolerated were Eunseo and Kino, everyone else just contributed to the hammering going inside your head.

Still, you had been able to avoid Mark.

That is until the fateful day six begins, and Jungwoo corners you in the kitchen, a furious scowl etched on his face.

“Would you care to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?” His tone is accusatory, hurtful. He’s not there to be nice, that much you had already gathered.

“Is this an intervention?” You cock your eyebrow at him, leaning your lower back against the counter. He keeps staring at you, stance aggressive. 

“Let’s call it an intervention, if you want. Why the fuck have you been acting so weird lately? Why have you turned your phone off? Why are you avoiding Mark?” He’s firing question after question, not even giving you room to process them. The way he’s handling his energy is so chaotic, it makes your blood boil underneath your skin. Jungwoo had no right to be mad at you when he didn’t make any effort to consult you about your wellbeing during this whole trip, and the moment he does, his only instinct is to spit venomous words instead of choosing a more careful approach.

“And why the fuck do you care?” There’s a fire building up inside of you, the flames licking up your throat. You’re now almost chest to chest with him, your eyes wide and vicious. If it was possible, laser beams would be shooting out of them.

“Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend, of course I care about you!”

You scoff, “Took you long enough to figure out something’s not okay.”

“You’re being so unfair.”

“Am I?” You laugh darkly, eyes roaming around the room. Jungwoo hated being left in the dark. It made him feel powerless like he wasn’t doing enough for those he loved. And you were deliberately doing what you knew would hurt him. Because that was the person you had become. “Or were you simply too occupied to realise it?”

“Now you’re just pushing it, ___.” He grits out, “I don’t know what is going on, but you’re acting like an asshole. Everyone is commenting about how you’re avoiding us. Mark is like a lost puppy wandering around because it’s like he’s the plague to you.”

The thought of Mark feeling miserable because of you is just so absurd you don’t refrain from laughing out loud sarcastically. “Mark looks absolutely fine to me. Doyeon seems to be a qualified substitute.”

“Okay, I get it now. Something happened between you two.” He says, plain and simple. You feel the blistering heat on your cheeks, and words can’t even slip from your lips because he carries on, “Honestly, I’m not really interested in knowing what happened exactly. I care about the fact that you’re being an asshole to everyone else because of it. Don’t take your anger out on someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Shame is staining your face in such an ugly red shade you can’t even muster up the courage to look him in the eye, and fight back. Mainly because there’s nothing you can really say to him. 

“I’m putting you on shopping duty today with Mark.” He pauses, reaches for the back of your hand, and runs his finger just once against it, “Running away from confrontation is literally the worst thing you could possibly do. It will never fix things.”

He’s right, of course, and it hurts you.

It hurts you, but not because of how bittersweet truth can taste. It hurts because of all people, it had to be Jungwoo. Jungwoo, whose words had always been like rivers of honey flowing through your ears, now felt like they had blasted your eardrums off, leaving nothing but blood trickling down in its wake. This was a side of him you were seeing for the first time. But then again, this was also a side of you nobody had ever seen.

The extremes to which you had taken the situation was destroying everything around you. This vacation was supposed to be filled to the brim with beautiful memories you would never forget. Instead, you were letting your childish emotions dictate your whole persona, and disregard everyone else around you as if they didn’t exist, only him. 

You had nothing left to lose.

Maybe the truth would set you free.

For a few seconds, Mark thought he was seeing a ghost, the apparition of something supernatural right before his eyes. He was more surprised than the moment you kissed him on New Year’s Eve if that was even possible. But it wasn’t a ghost, it was you making your way to him while he waited for the person who was supposed to help him with grocery shopping. 

Now he understood why Jungwoo was acting all secretive and straight-up refusing to say who that person was.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” You sound annoyed, and he has no clue why. Actually, Mark has been in a permanent state of confusion ever since that day.

He remembers how going home after being so intimate with you felt like he had been floating in a cloud, instead of having Lucas push him by the collar and throw him on the bed. He remembers how soft and supple your lips felt, even if they had missed the initial aim because of how much of a fucking idiot he was. Everything had felt so surreal, like a dream too sweet to come true. 

But you never said anything about it or mentioned it ever again.

And Mark didn’t have the guts to invest further, because he was a scaredy-cat who felt too weak when it came to you.

“Oh. Sorry.” He makes his way to the driver’s seat, spares a quick glance in your direction only to find you staring stoically ahead. You’re wearing a navy blue cap, it sits so low on your head he can barely see your eyes, just the end of your nose and the lips he had been fantasising about for the past month.

The lips which had touched his — kind of — and since then Mark only grew defeated at the lack of response coming from you.

There was such a tense atmosphere between both of you, in comparison to how comfortable you had been around each other at the party. Everything had been going so well, Mark had never been so happy in his entire life, and in hindsight, the end of the night was just perfect. But the truth was, the kiss had been the catalyst to how distant you had become. 

No more facetime calls, no more feeling at ease whenever you both were together. And in Mark’s perspective, this trip was supposed to make the spark from the New Year’s Eve party ignite between you both again.

His expectations paled in comparison to the reality. The person he saw was avoiding him, glaring at him across the dinner table, refusing to interact with other people. Something was going on, and it was killing him not knowing why. Or worse, if he was the reason behind it all.

The eery silence ceases when you’re inside the supermarket, standing awkwardly still in front of the small magazine stall near the registers. 

“Do you have the list?” Your voice lacks any emotion, yet it still startles him. He misses talking to you freely, hearing you laugh through the speaker on his phone as he buries his face against the pillow because he’s smiling so big his cheeks hurt.

“Yeah,” He takes the folded slip of paper from his back pocket. It’s crumpled and frayed at the edges — he had been fiddling with it before he saw you. 

You clear your throat, avert your head to look at the tabloid newspapers, “We should split up, it’s quicker that way.”

“No,” He takes pride in the way his answer makes you look at him, the sternness in his voice showing. Mark wanted to be selfish for once. “I don’t want to lose you.” The pregnant pause is meant to make you think about his words, but he continues before things got too awkward, “This place is huge.”

You say nothing, but still rip the paper from his clammy hand, and storm ahead of him to find whatever was written on it.

Jungwoo’s scrawny chicken handwriting is barely legible, Mark notices once he peaks over your shoulder. You’re deliberating between two brands of rice as if it’s the hardest choice you had ever encountered in your entire life. It’s adorable, to say the least. But he doesn’t say anything, like always, because that’s what people like Mark do: they wallow in self-pity until feelings dissipate within the particles of the wind. They cower behind the false pretense of unrequited affection. They never chase their dreams to the fullest. They let them wither and fall between the cracks in the pavement.

Change scared him. Still, the thought of losing your friendship was enough to sear his heart.

So that’s why Mark was going to tread a very fine line, in hopes of at least getting back what was slipping through his fingers.

“Can we talk?”

You look over at him, a light frown adorning your face in spite of the poor attempt at hiding your face with your hat, grabbing a bottle of Coke at the same time. “We’re already talking.”

“We’re talking about groceries.”

“Are you saying groceries aren’t important enough to be considered a conversational topic?” You muse, laughing dryly right after. This indifference was starting to get on Mark’s nerves.

He strides so he’s standing right on the other side of the cart, hands holding it so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Cut the crap, ___. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Now move.” Scoffing, you try to push the cart in your direction, but Mark tightens his hold even further so you’re unable to take it with you. “Mark. Let go. Don’t make me cause a scene right here in the middle of a fucking supermarket.”

He falters with the intensity of your voice and takes his hand off, sighing loudly, “We’re not done. I’m tired of this.”

Your head flings back violently to stare at him with the widest eyes he had ever seen. Mark finally takes note of the incredibly purple under-eye circles, the tired, dull-looking skin. The deep, heart-wrenching feeling in his gut was slowly confirming what he had been fearing: he probably was one of the reasons why you were like this, if not the only one.

“Oh, you’re tired? How sad, Mark. Maybe take your head out of your ass for once and take a hint. So many things are happening around you and you either choose to ignore it or you’re just fucking dumb enough to not realise it.”

“What do you mean?” Mark feels like he’s being stabbed all over again with every poisonous word falling from your lips. It’s not the words themselves that are hurting him, it’s the fact that he was the person who caused you to become this way and not knowing exactly what he had done.

You let out a low shriek of frustration, “Unbelievable. You wouldn’t see it even if it hit you in the head.”

“Let’s talk in the car.” He sighs. You don’t say anything back, but Mark takes the eye roll you throw in his direction as a small victory for now. The rest of the grocery shopping happens in complete silence sans the squeaky wheels of the cart and the Ed Sheeran song humming throughout the store.

Mark is dreading getting in the car with you, afraid of getting another earful of rejecting comments or worse, not being able to find out what exactly he had done for you to completely shut him out. Was it because he allowed you to kiss him while you were both not in your right state of mind? Should he had been more firm in his morals instead of giving in to what he had been wanting for the past three years?

More silence carries both of you back to Jungwoo’s house, Mark’s hand gripping the steering wheel on the way back so tightly his knuckles are ghostly white against the dark leather. The air felt stuffy, full of resentment and opportunities for new beginnings. You reckon the time to pour your heart out has come: there, inside that parked car, you were going to tell him everything without holding back. This crush had grown to lengths you had never expected, it had turned you into the shell of the girl you used to be. 

Your inferiority complex had never gone away.

“Can I ask you something?” You start off, taking the baseball cap off of your head before running a hand through your slightly greasy hair. Mark’s eyes immediately lock on yours, nods in your direction. “Did it even mean something to you? The kiss?”

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that.” He gulps, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You thought or you didn’t want me to remember?” You hate how feeble your voice sounds, how crystal clear the pain echoes with every word you say. “You know, Mark, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, the thing is that I can’t really go on any longer pretending everything’s okay when it’s not.”

Mark’s body coils like a springboard at your implied confession, his muscles tense, and the way he looks at you resembles a madman. You allow him some seconds to formulate some type of reply, yet all he does is open and close his mouth as if there is nothing he could say.

“Yeah, newsflash… I like you, Mark. I thought the kiss made it pretty obvious but then again we were drunk and high so I understand if you didn’t think too much of it.” There’s a lump sitting at the top of your throat and tears brimming in your lash line. The urge to cry is so strong now, you had never imagined that confessing your feelings to the person’s face would be so emotionally and mentally straining. “I guess I’m the one to blame because I expected you to make the next move, to show that this crush wasn’t one-sided but… Yeah… We all know how that one went, uh?”

“Anyway… This is why I’ve been distant.” You chuckle, wiping the stray tear that decided to go rogue against your will, “And as you can imagine, seeing the guy I like acting so close to another girl was bound to make me feel all types of sad. I don’t know if you’re dating or not and if you are I am sorry for telling you this. I guess I just needed to let this all out before I began moving on.”

He’s completely still, zoned out as if his body was there but his soul was absent. You’re unsure of what to make of this since you were expecting him to say something back. But maybe this was for the best, him not saying a word. It would spare you an even bigger heartbreak.

“I’ll ask the guys to come get the groceries.” You smile sadly before opening the door, leaving him confined in that tiny car alongside his thoughts.

You don’t see Mark for the rest of the day, fortunately. While in the previous days you had been the one acting all weird and evasive, now Mark had taken it upon himself to fulfill that role. It gives you time to reflect upon yourself and your situation.

Dinner that night is made by you and everyone loves it. The conversation flows beautifully between everyone, even with Doyeon: you find out the two of you have a lot more in common than you imagined. Surprisingly, the heavy burden sunk in the depths of your chest is no longer there, only a dull ache which throbbed only whenever your brain conjured any thought about Mark. You’d take that as progress. Except you can’t help yourself but think about what prompted him into isolating himself. Maybe he was too embarrassed to face you now that he knew you liked him. Or maybe he didn’t have the courage to be your friend anymore. All in all, your pride was hurt. Not having your feelings reciprocated sucked.

Later on, you watch Bird Box sandwiched between your best friends, let yourself shed a few stray tears over the sentimentality of the movie. You can hear sniffles and stifled sobs coming from Doyeon and Kino while Jungwoo holds Eunseo’s hand and brings it to his lips to gently peck it from time to time. It’s enough to make you reminisce about New Year’s Eve, about how right it felt to be with Mark in that kind of intimate setting. You want to do it again and again and again until you can’t even remember how many times you have been like that until it becomes second nature to you. But that won’t happen. So you force yourself to eradicate that painful thought from your mind and train your eyes steadily on the screen until it all blurs.

People start going back to their rooms little by little, eventually. The clock is ticking near one in the morning and contrary to what you were expecting, there’s not one ounce of exhaustion in your body. You are awake, you feel awake like there’s a buzz in your bloodstream that’s preventing you from getting sleepy. It’s as if not even your own brain wants you to stop thinking.

Lucky for your brain, you can’t stop thinking. So while everyone else is sleeping soundly in their beds, the cogs in your brain twist and turn desperately trying to formulate any reasonable explanation for everything that had happened recently. And in spite of the sting caused by rejection, your heart still called to him, pathetically so, and during this whole fiasco, you were worried about his wellbeing. You were worrying if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, either if he was crying or in need of a hug. Above your state of passion for him stood a friendship you valued tremendously; you were losing both at the same time.

The blood boiling beneath your skin makes the air around you feel too stifling like you’re in the middle of a heatwave on a July afternoon instead of a February late night where the temperature doesn’t even waver beyond 20ºC. You trudge outside to where the pool is, the moon illuminating and reflecting upon the tiny ripples of water ever so gently, just enough to showcase how beautiful stillness and darkness can be. There’s this urge within you to just dive in, even if the water is not as warm as you want it to be, and you do just that, damned be everything and everyone. 

You’re swimming in Jungwoo’s summer house backyard all by yourself in your underwear and somehow, despite the trials and tribulations of your pathetic life, you wouldn’t change anything about that moment. They are the ones that make you grow as a person, that help you shape yourself into a more mature, better version.

But moments like these are also meant to be changed. Like the way the pitch-black sky is coated with hues of pink, yellow, and orange just as dawn becomes daylight. Those seemingly slow and everlasting shifts in nature you can’t help but acknowledge: they’re meant to happen.

That’s why you don’t even flinch when you hear a small splash behind you, yet that restlessness comes to life, the one where you can feel in every fibre of your being whenever he was around. But you don’t turn around, don’t act surprised. You’re ready to embrace whatever it is that is about to come your way.

“Hi.” Mark’s voice is so soft and faint you can barely hear him. If it wasn’t for the stupid fact you like him so much to the point your chest felt like it was about to split open violently in any second, things like his uneven breathing pattern would go amiss. 

You flip around, see how sunken his face looks. It breaks your heart even further than it already was to begin with. Resisting the impulse you were having of swimming across the pool so you could hold him in your warms was proving to be the most difficult thing you had ever done. 

“Hi, Mark.”

In any other occasion, seeing Mark shirtless would be more than enough to make you go through hot flashes for the following hour, especially when you were only wearing your bra and panties, yet there was absolutely nothing sexual about this moment. You were both near-naked, stripped of barriers, of façades you put on in order to protect yourselves. At that very moment, there was only vulnerability oozing from your pores and his.

This was it. The grand finale was finally about to happen.

“How are you feeling?” You start off, lowering your shoulders inside the water to keep them warm from the breeze. “You look like shit.”

That elicits a snort from Mark’s lips followed by a gleaming smile which you can see from your spot on the other end of the pool. It’s sweet and it sticks to your memory like golden honey, reminds you of how much you have missed him in general. He was your friend before he was the one who could either make you or break you, so you yearn for his friendship way more than any other thing in the world. No one could understand you with the same intricacy and intimacy as Mark did; you would rather not be able to feel the suppleness of his lips than to lose him altogether, lose the gift of his friendship.

“Honestly?” He asks, mimicking your position and lowering his shoulders as well, “I don’t think there’s any way I can convey how I feel right now without it sounding like complete nonsense.”

This statement intrigues you. It sparks something deep within that you know it shouldn’t, but falling in love with someone brings out the person’s most vulnerable state to the forefront. A person in love will go back on their word if that means one step closer to the heart they want. “Try me,” You shrug, “I’m all ears.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“If this is all because of what I told you… because I like you, then I’m sorry.” You cast your eyes downwards and flick mindlessly the water around you. “I know that it’s a lot to take in and maybe it was selfish of me to let it all build up and then lay it all on you like that.”

“No,” He interjects quickly, treading the pool waters in slow but steady strides until he’s more than an arm’s reach from you. “I was surprised, yes, and it was overwhelming because that was the last thing I was expecting you to say.”

You laugh, “You were malfunctioning back there. I get it though.”

“You don’t,” He deadpans, voice solemn, “You don’t understand at all… What it’s like waiting for years to hear something and then your brain completely shuts down when it does finally happen.”

Your heartbeat is thrumming so loud you can feel it reverberating all over your body, it courses through you like a rush of blood, intensely so, that you refrain from pinching yourself. The nuances in his speech are making you feel like you’re dreaming the sweetest dream and if it was indeed a figment of your imagination, you didn’t want to wake up any time soon.

“I’ve had a thing for you since high school, ___.” He confesses, angling his body to the side as if ashamed or embarrassed or afraid. Deep down you want to laugh because there’s no reason for him to feel like that at all. You’re desperately in love with him in every intricate and complex way possible in the world. Like a galaxy and constellations, and the moons, the planets, and the stars within orbiting in sync yet light-years away from each other.

But the heavy rise and fall of your chest and the tears welling up in your eyes tell a different story.

Mark liked you back.

He continues, “And I know you used to think I was too popular to even become your friend, but that sure as hell didn’t stop me from liking you. Hell, it made me like you even more… I knew it back then and I know it now too… I really, really like you. A lot. Like, you make my heart do these funky, weird flips every time we hang out.”

You’re crying by the end of his little confession, sniffling quietly so he doesn’t notice, yet when he finally dares to lift his eyes towards yours, he sees you wiping the back of your palm against your cheek. As if it was an instinct, he crosses the space left dividing the both of you, pausing right before his hand could touch you. Like you were a dainty marble statue that could break even with the tiniest of touches.

“Shit, I’m sorry— Don’t cry, please.”

“No,” You protest, “I’m crying because I’m happy. I’m crying because I never imagined this moment would actually happen. It’s just surreal.”

His hand stutters when it finally grazes your skin, yet his thumb still spans the surface of your cheek ever so gently, ever so softly. You refuse to believe it isn’t real, these last interactions you two were sharing were so dream-like your own hand reaches up to press against his, to feel the texture of his skin, your eyes closing in the process because of how full your heart was feeling.

Mark liked you. The person you liked, liked you back. You had been torturing yourself for the past week with thoughts of not being reciprocated to the point that you felt the very core of your being dim. And it had been all for nothing because he had a thing for you way before you even considered him a friend. 

Miscommunication was such a fickle thing. This whole situation could have been avoided if the two of you had been more open about your feelings instead of repressing them in fear of the reaction of the other.

“Mark,” You say, his hand still cradling your face, “Can we hug? Is that okay?”

Mark is unable to properly reply with words to your question, only a smile breaking through his lips at the pure disbelief of how happy such words could make him feel. He doesn’t need to say anything at all, he reckons, as he lowers your hand, and his too, before snaking his arms around yours, tumbling you softly into his chest in the process.

There’s a newfound comfort in the way your face is squished against his shoulder, like every single worry that had been weighing him down had completely vanished the moment you stepped into his arms. The pounding of his heart is no longer rooted in venom, it has tiny flowers blooming along each branch and stem, a small, lovely glimpse into paradise on earth. 

A wave of nostalgia hits Mark in the gut and he can’t help but to think about New Year’s Eve, think about how similar this moment feels to the one almost two months ago yet the contrast is so very stark. Back then you were both tiptoeing around your emotions, scared of taking a leap and finding out that there’s nothing but concrete down there. Now you’re worn down, you and him, by the cluster of emotions and the lack of experience on how to handle them. Yet you’re together in whatever this is, may that be navigating through the corridors of young love or finding out what’s on the other side of the door doesn’t quite correspond to what you’ve been idealising. 

“I’m sorry,” You’ve been in an embrace for probably more than ten minutes and Mark’s voice breaks a little, right hand spanning the middle of your back, “For not being so forward… I’m not very good at this— I’ve never been. I tried, back in high school, you know? I tried but it always felt like the universe was against me. Every time I mustered the courage to do something, another person cockblocked the shit out of me.”

You bring your head back to look him in the eyes, “It’s okay, Mark. I’m not very good at this either. I had this crazy way of thinking that you were like… unreachable to someone like me. So I never expected us to become friends, let along like you or have you like me back.”

“Please,” He scoffs playfully, tightening his arms around you, “I liked you first.”

You roll your eyes, stepping out of his embrace and flicking some water in his direction, “Anyways… I’m also sorry. For being too pushy and demanding too much from you. And for ruining this whole trip for everyone.”

“I wouldn’t say you ruined the trip, just… confused the shit out of everyone, maybe?” He tries to reason, voice a little doubtful. You’re aware of how your little jealous stints made the mood a little sour for everyone, and you feel remorseful for letting such negativity consume you. Love really made you do the unthinkable.

“Jealousy is a bitch, I’ll say that.”

“Jealousy? Were you jealous?” Mark asks, curiosity splattered on his face, “Jealous of wha— Oh. No way…”

Mark has a stupid little grin on his face like he already has you all figured out, and you stubbornly, yet playfully, turn your back to him as you begin to tread back to the other end of the pool to try and get him to follow you. Maybe hug you from behind. Kiss your neck or whatever. You’d leave that for him to decide.

A giggle leaves your mouth as you hear the water swishing from behind you. You keep going until you reach the border and when you twist your body to rest your back against it, Mark is hot on your tail, immediately caging you in between his arms.

“Jealous, uh?” He’s coming across as cocky, and given the circumstances you were now, it was far from making you annoyed or turned off.

“Yeah,” You breathe out, focusing on the droplets of water gliding from his neck to his collarbones. This game was getting dangerous. “What about it?”

“What were you jealous of?” He begins, taking another step towards you until you were chest to chest. “Or let me rephrase that. Who were you jealous of?”

You’re beginning to like seeing this new side of Mark. The Mark who unveiled what he was thinking and feeling free instead of masking it behind a façade of confusion. It was making you unravel a lot more from within yourself as well, the way you were reacting to his advances and stance just proved even further the extent of your emotional and romantic involvement. 

“You were all cosy with Doyeon during the whole trip. It was so annoying.”

“Okay, first of all, Doyeon and I grew up together.”

“That’s even worse,” You roll your eyes and Mark is feeling so inexplicably elated over seeing you express something as ordinary as jealousy that he decides to be ballsy and grab you by the waist. He ought to compensate you somehow. 

The blush dusting your cheeks makes it worth it.

“I only like one person, and that’s you,” He rasps, heart skipping a beat when you put your hands on his shoulders, feel the sturdiness of his muscles.

“I know now,” You say, caressing the nape of his neck as you look up to him, a fond smile on your lips. Mark feels so overwhelmed with the urge to kiss you. Kissing you had always plagued him, but now when it was just a breath’s away he felt dizzy with the anticipation of it really happening.

“Can I—”

You don’t even give him the chance to finish his prompt, for you take the initiative and kiss him yourself, too thirsty for something you were sure you were never going to get tired of.

Mark’s lips are exactly what you had always dreamed about being, yet more at the same time. They’re soft and supple and timid, and you don’t really mind taking the lead, spanning your hand across his jaw and tilting it to the side so you can deepen the kiss. You’ve been waiting for the opportunity of properly kissing him since what feels like forever, it shows in how you press yourself against him desperately, turn him around so he’s the one being pinned against the wall.

That seems to shake him out of his shy reverie: he poises his hand against your throat to keep you in place as the rush finally kicks in and he begins to take over, tearing a gasp from you at the sudden change in dynamics. He hums low in his throat then, using it as an opportunity to add his tongue to the mix, bravado fuelled by the desperate nature of the moment.

When the heat of finally being able to kiss each other dies down, the kisses become slow and languid, the touches delicate and sweet rather than frantic and wild, until you both stop completely to catch your breath. 

“Shit,” Mark is heaving as he starts laughing crazily, “If this is a dream I’m going to be so fucking pissed.”

You begin to pepper pecks all over his face to prove a point, “This isn’t a dream, Mark Lee. We like each other.”

“And had one hell of a kiss in the middle of the night at a pool. This is going to be a cool story to tell. After I tell the New Year’s Eve one.”

“First off, this was our first kiss.” You retort, grabbing his cheeks in between your fingers to shut him up when he starts protesting, “That will not account as a first kiss, it was a sad, sad attempt at demonstrating how much I liked you.”

“I can’t believe it didn’t dawn on me back then that you liked me back.” Mark snorts in disbelief, “What can be more clear than a kiss? Jesus Christ.”

“I was honestly disappointed but not surprised, coming from you. Such a dense, dumb ass person.”

“Take it back!” He starts tickling you in retaliation, the giggles coming out of your mouth so loudly you were sure you were going to wake someone up. But that didn’t matter at the moment, the unavoidable sweetness of the occasion is all you could think about.

You and Mark eventually get out of the pool when you notice your fingers get pruney, which in hindsight should have happened way before it did. He goes inside to fetch two towels while you sit on the little deck with your legs crossed, looking at the sky before you and wondering how a little over an hour ago you were looking at the same exact spot plagued with the opposite mindset of the one you had now.

He drapes the fluffy towel over your shoulders and sits right to your left, knees knocking against yours as he gets comfortable. His hair is sticking up in every possible direction and when he turns his head to look at you you notice how dull his skin looks and the tired under-eye circles, an exact match to yours. If this was another time before now, you would feel the itch to smoothen your thumb against them yet refrain yourself from doing so, but this isn’t the then, it’s the now and you no longer feel anxious about acting upon your desires. So you do as you wish and when Mark grabs your wrist to kiss it absentmindedly, you feel like nothing in the world could ever bring you down from the state of mind you were going through.

You and Mark stay together outside just until your underwear stops sticking obscenely to your body, not even saying anything to each other. The comfort in being around someone in complete silence, namely the person you love, warms you to your very core like there’s a fire gradually burning in the pit of your stomach, not strong enough to hurt you but not soft enough to go unnoticed.

“Mark?” You say when Mark slides the patio door open to go inside. He turns back to look at you with that facial expression you had grown to love instead of hate, the one where it truly looked like he was unreadable. 

“Lord knows if I wait for you to do this I’ll be fifty before it happens.” You laugh dryly, gaining momentum and courage, “Do you— Will you be my boyfriend?” 

His eyes widen in response and he stays frozen in place, much like what happened in the car. This was not happening again, not on your watch. “Are you having another mental breakdown? What I meant was— Do you… Do you like me enough to maybe like, want to date me?”

The cogs in Mark’s brain kick back to life the moment your voice becomes small as if you’re beginning to feel uneasy and uncertain about the situation. He really needs to work on how he reacts to positive events.

“Shit, yeah— I, yeah. I do.” He says hurriedly, fumbling for the right words, “Let’s do this thing. Let’s date.”

You duck your head to hide your smile inside the towel, but Mark notices it either way. It makes him all fuzzy inside, cotton-candy hearted. 

“Okay,” You tiptoe quietly until you’re right in front of him, reach for the back of his neck so you can press a quick peck right on the lips. “Goodnight.”

Mark blushing at you kissing him is a wonderful sight you want to see repeatedly. 

Contrary to what you think, you don’t dream about anything at all. It’s like you’re now catching up to all of the sleep that you had lost in the past, blacking out the second your head hits the pillow.

You were now going back to reality, back to civilisation. Back to having a routine and a schedule and abiding by it. For the first time in a long time, you were actually looking forward to it. 

Since Mark was on your side.

Literally and figuratively. 

To the others, the fact that Mark and you are sitting next to each other in Jungwoo’s car on the way back home was just pure coincidence, but Jungwoo knows what’s up. In fact, he didn’t even need to do much digging. He was such a light sleeper he had woken up in the middle of the night due to some strange sounds coming from his backyard. At first, he was afraid someone had broken in, even going the extra mile to grab the baseball bat from the kitchen.

But when he peeked through the glass door leading to the outside, what he saw left him in a state of disarray for only a few seconds before it settled in and he saw you smiling, giggling, and Mark beaming at you. Deep down he always knew something was bound to happen between you two, and he didn’t know the extent of your circumstances, but he was glad whatever happened before now was a done deal. 

You deserved to be happy.

“No funny business back in there, ___.” Jungwoo says loudly, bumping his arm against Eunseo’s.

“What?!” You gasp, quietly sneaking away the hand you had inside of Mark’s hoodie pocket, “What are you even talking about…”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll talk later, missy.” He replies, amusement in his tone, “You better not complain ever again about Eunie and I being all up in each other’s business. I’ll revoke your best friend privileges right away. And you,” He glares at Mark, “No breaking my best friend’s heart unless you want to end up like a headless chicken.”

“I…” Mark gulps, his trademark bug eyes widened to the max, “Yes, sir.”

Everyone except Mark (and Vernon, who had fallen asleep the second his head hit the window) start laughing at his response and a few moments later he ends up joining in. He looks at you then, holds his hand in front of you expectingly, and when you interlock your fingers right in the middle of his, he ends up putting both your hands inside the hoodie pocket once again, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face as he drops his head against your shoulder, shuts his eyes close, and snuggles closer.

You peck his temple affectionally, because well, you loved him. A lot. You weren’t afraid of acknowledging it any longer, even if you hadn’t told Mark how deep your feelings ran for him, even if there was a possibility he took a little longer to come to that conclusion as well. You just really, really loved him and everything that entailed being in love with him. Your mind goes back to that time where you tried so desperately to root obstacles between the both of you, for you belittled yourself so much and put him in such a high pedestal, avoiding constantly the slightest chance of interacting with him. Mark wasn’t stuck up or anything of the sort, he had never been that kind of person. It wasn’t his fault your high school experience hadn’t been like his. It wasn’t his fault that he had what he had. And maybe it wasn’t your fault either, but you shouldn’t have assumed he’d be iffy about getting to know you. About becoming your friend. Because those were your insecurities coming afloat and projecting onto Mark what you wanted him to be, so it would be easier for you to detach yourself from him, to not sympathise or like him.

Well, you had failed miserably at that. Gladly so.

You could only be a dumb ass for so long.

“You’re late.” 

“The bus—”

Mark sighs, “The bus arrived earlier than you expected. I know.” 

“Yeah,” You beam at him, kissing him softly. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “Let’s go, the guys are waiting for us.”

You grab his hand as both of you start walking from the bus stop to Jungwoo’s apartment. “We’re still leaving after the movie ends, right?”

“Yes, don’t worry.” He bumps his shoulder lightly into yours teasingly, “You’ve been so frisky lately, Jesus Christ. Can’t wait until you have me all to yourself, uh?”

“Mark!” You gasp, stopping in your tracks to hit him in the chest. He giggles at your feeble attempt at hurting him, “Okay, let’s not go to my house later, then.”

“Noooooo,” He whines, enveloping you in his arms and tightening them so you can’t leave, “I was only joking. You know I, uh… I like it when we’re alone.”

“You seem to like it too much if I remember correctly.”

Three months had flown by in the blink of an eye, so quickly you didn’t even realise it until Mark texted you one day with a screenshot of Lovedays, an app that showed how many days you had been dating with your significant other, and the number 100 was staring right back at you. A lot had happened in the span of that time since it was the first relationship for the both of you a lot of trial and error had taken place during the first weeks. That pent up flame you felt had been completely let out that time at the pool, which was followed up by a bit (read: a lot) of the awkwardness of navigating through intimacy and sentimentality for the first time.

Especially when Mark’s so clumsy and his brain runs one hundred miles an hour. But you had gotten used to it. Just like he had gotten used to your incessant rants about what you’re learning in your most interesting class, even if they leave him confused 99% of the times. Mark said you confused him in general.

You called it compromising.

“Shh…” He puts his hand across your mouth, “You’re being too loud.”

You strike back by putting your tongue out and licking his palm and he yelps in surprise, pulling it back, “Oh, now you don’t want to talk about it.”

He goes back to holding your hand“, You know I’m not very vocal about… that stuff.”

“Oh, you’re vocal alright, Mark Lee.”

“La, la, la!” He screams childishly, and you roll your eyes playfully at his antics, “I can’t hear you!”

When you arrive at Jungwoo’s, only Eunseo is there, as per usual. While getting a boyfriend had changed some of the dynamics in your life, some things would never change, like your friends scheming into making you arrive on time. Or three-way hugging Jungwoo and Eunseo in a way Mark never understood how it was done, yet respected. 

Or how college was proving itself to be the best timeframe of your life. 

Sure, things weren’t perfect, though we can’t expect them to be something that isn’t by all means achievable. You still had a long way to go, growing up and maturing was a never-ending process and every day that went by you learned something new either about the world or yourself.

Yet the very imperfectness of it all was what made it all worth it. In spite of every trial and tribulation that life had thrown or was going to throw at you, you’d face it with vigour and strength.

Because you were happy. 

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark fic #mark fics #nct fanfic #mark fluff #nct fluff #mark angst #nct angst #nct fic rec #nct fic recs #mark fic rec #mark fic recs #this took WAY too long to edit because my fucking computer is slow as a god damn snail the fuck bruhhhhh #anyways #i hope you guys enjoy this #ackshUallY #the tumblr website just s*cks balls in general #fic: a montage of love

[scratchface]

Datastorm prompt: Ryoken helps out at Cafe Nagi and becomes popular with female customers, and Yusaku is jealous XD

I was incapable of not putting espionage hi-jinks into this

It’s a normal day, up until Ryoken shows up and sits both Yusaku and Kusanagi down at a table.

“I have a business proposal.” He says. They just stare back. “SOL is hosting an exclusive event in a month, and I need in.”

“Don’t you have a spy in SOL?” Ai asks dubiously, poking his head out of Yusaku’s duel-disk.

“They will not be in position to attend.” Ryoken seems displeased by this, his eyes sliding shut for a moment, before reopening with increased intensity. “And attending under a fake name at the current time is too risky.” He pulls out a piece of paper and slides it over the table to Kusanagi.

Kusanagi looks at it, his eyebrows climbing higher on his forehead. “What is this?”

“A catering application.” Their visitor’s voice is layered with no small amount of disdain. “If you can get in, I can get in with you, as an employee.”

Kusanagi and Yusaku exchanges glances. Both of them turn to look at their truck, and the turn their eyes back Ryoken with identically skeptical expressions.

Refusing to take the hint, Ryoken continues to watch them expectantly. Kusanagi awkwardly coughs, a little shamed. “…Have you seen us? Do you really think an event like this will want us?”

A dangerous smile creeps over Ryoken’s lips. “They will if there are no other options.”

They set up shop in the convention hall. Yusaku’s never seen Kusanagi look so nervous, his pale face turning a little green as he stares over the crowds of exclusive SOL sponsors, clientele, and DM big-shots. Yusaku is pretty sure he caught glimpses of some members of the Crawford family among the VIPs. Industrial Illusions’ CEO is here with them, apparently, to announce the newest additions to the game.

Yusaku has personally hacked the servers, bank records, and correspondences of roughly half the people in the room, and he’s certain Ryoken’s rap sheet is even worse. Ryoken, who’s cool as anything and clearly in his natural habitat, even with an apron tied around his waist, despite the odd glances their set up is receiving. The other caterers, the few that Hanoi didn’t sabotage, are giving them offended glances, clearly affronted that their elaborate appetizers are going to be served alongside hot dogs.

Kusanagi tried his best. He’s been experimenting all week, trying to make a catering menu that wouldn’t be too offensive. The result includes something called ‘a pig-in-a-blanket’, which Yusaku still finds a little mystifying. But despite their efforts, it’s apparent that they’re out-of-place and understaffed. To better fit in with the bustling busboys and waiters the other caterers have brought, Ryoken dressed them both in neat black slacks and stiff white dress shirts. Now he’s making rounds around the room with a dazzling smile and a tray, positioning himself in all the right places.

Ryoken’s supposed to be inconspicuous. Instead, with every step he’s drawing the eyes of women, young entrepreneurs and bored wives gazing after him hopefully.

Something about it is deeply aggravating.

The businessman Yusaku shoves his own tray in front of take one glance at his face, jumps, and excuses himself. The rest of the little social circle subtly don’t meet his eyes and inch away. Across the room, a graceful woman is drifting after Ryoken, chattering in his ear.

The space around Yusaku is comparatively empty, all the attendees drifting to apparently anywhere else on the open floor. He sees his own venomous scowl in the reflection of a glass on his tray, and feels a little pleased by just how well it shows how much he hates everything about this.

Turning his eyes back to the one to blame, he finds Ryoken looking back. Their eyes meet. Ryoken makes a finger gun with his free hand and shoots at him with a knowing smirk.

Yusaku valiantly resists the urge to throw his tray across the room like a Frisbee.

#vrains #yugioh vrains #ygo #fair days

[tyrantofthefirmament]

Shocking Revelations

It’s been many weeks since Starscream has made contact with Shockwave and... stolen a protoform from the Well of AllSparks. During that time he has been putting off broaching the subject with Knockout, and the more time has passed, the more impossible that conversation seems. Now he has to explain not only why he is working with Shockwave, but also why he failed to mention it. He has no intention of explaining either, at least not yet, but under stress and with a lack of sleep, things don’t always go as intended...

@ask-dr-knockout is in block quotes

Clack clack clack clack clack CLANG clack

SLAM!

Starscream did not take it well when his pacing took him over the loose piece of plating in front of the medbay and he startled himself out of his racing thoughts. Hence the dent in the wall. He now stood, venting, with his wings half lowered and rigidly held.

Every moment since he left Shockwave’s lab had made him more tense. He’d tried burying himself in work, but his thoughts kept returning to the tiny Seeker in the tank, with no one to keep Shockwave from indulging his curiosity on it. He’d decided to take a break, but flying only made him think of the Seekers Shockwave wanted to clone, and his break had turned to restless pacing, which led him here.

Growling in frustration, he turned to drag himself back toward his console. Construction teams didn’t check in with themselves, and he still had to arrange tomorrow’s supply movements from Tarn. Pit, he’d spent all night getting nothing done.

Not long after Starscreams violently loud expression of frustration came the abrupt sounds of a rushed transformation soon followed by a clang and thud before a muffled swear from the oposite side of the wall over powered the once quiet hum of the medical bay.

clunk Clunk CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK!

VrrrWOOSH!

Footsteps aproached before the med bay doors cycled ubruptly wide open to reveal a pair of frowning dully lit halos.

Knockout looked around huffing as he rubbed at a fresh dent on his helm. His face wearing a recharge ridden scowel of discontent.

“Alright who is the wiseguy banging on my wall after hou-…!” Knockout cut of his speech that had most likely been meant for a underling or vehicon as his optics set sight on the cuprit to his painful awakening. His chest and shoulders instantly puffing up in suprise before his optics rew a bright angry red. Of all the childish… HE was supposed to know BETTER!

“STARSCREAM!! don’t you have any couth!” He glared stomping toward the other and pointing a finger into the silver mechs chest.

“Just because you repel recharge doesn’t mean the rest of us can! Just LOOK what you made me do! I thought for a moment the base was collapsing… again…” Knockout yelled in a harsh not so whisper gesturing to his slightly dented helm. “You made me transform out of recharge and hit my helm!” His voice mixed with a harsh static induced from his abruptly disrupted recharge and/or sleep deprived state.

“It’s not like this would have been the first semblance of a full recharge I was able to coax myself into after the horrors of what Soundwave and you absurdly acomplished!! You know… The same mech that resides just down the hall from me!” Knockout pointed out exasperated.

“That’s not even including the fact I have been working for the past week on analysis of Perceptor’s research! Intensive analysis!! The least you could do is keep it down but what do i wake to find… that you have oh so subtly put a dent in my wall!” He huffed grumpily… it was only after his own rant he noticed the angle of Starscream’s wings the clenched fist the tightly lifted shoulders… he backed up a bit…. away from Starscream and calmed his grumpy tone but only slightly. “What the scrap has gotten into you!” Knockout crossed his arms Glaring.

Starscream flinched when he heard Knockout coming, before whirling toward him with angrily flared wings. Oblivious to the irony, he motioned to the medic to keep his voice down, before he blinked, distracted.

“You recharge in alt mode?” The quiet question seemed to go unnoticed as Knockout continued his rant. Starscream didn’t appreciate this on top of everything else he was dealing with - couldn’t a mech stomp around his own base in the middle of the night without getting a full dressing down? He curled his talons into fists and stepped closer to Knockout, who finally shut up and backed off.

“Take a guess what’s gotten into me, Knockout! I’m trying to juggle a lot of different things right now, and as soon as I decided to take a break, your stupid floor panel practically tripped me! You thought the base was falling down? Really? Well the floor is certainly broken, so let’s add that to my to-do list!”

He thrashed his wings with finality and glared at Knockout. “Go back to bed so I can get some work done.”

“If I had to take a guess it be a sour mix of fuel and a long jaged staff up your-” He was interrupted by another harsh retort on Starscreams part.

Knockout steeled himself despite his instinct to shy away from the others claws when he was in this mood. But Given the past few months wether it was wise to do so or not he felt more confidant in expressing his distaste or opinions to the other.

“Oh and you think I am not! Do you know how many vehicons and crew repairs I have done in the past cycles all while balancing HQ repairs, ship repairs, this world changing research, AND scouting!” Knockout optics widened and he sputtered in offense as he placed a dramatic hand onto his chest before holding them out in exasperated explanation speaking in harsh angry whispers. “Look at my finish! I have bearly had time to buff myself Starscream!” He looked sad for a moment before his optics turned hard again.

“I dont know whats gotten into you tonight but YOU of all mechs should understand the concept of proper crew moral! It’s one thing putting up with your temper tantrums during the day fine! But a piece of loose paneling! this is unaceptable when your crew and only CMO is trying to get rest to work more efficiently for YOU!!” Static again filtered through his whisper as he forced the words.

Knockout huffed and sighed. “I do not appreciate being woken up for such a small pathetic reason!” He put his hands on his hips glaring at Starscream unrelenting.

Starscream thought his wings were up all the way, but he was mistaken. He flared them so wide they banged against his pauldrons, making himself look huge. “Oh, so I have one bad night and suddenly I’m bad for crew morale? What about my other bad nights? Is it fine as long as I stay in my quarters where no one can hear me? I was trying to get things done! Sorry you all have to put up with me!” His voice qualified only technically as a whisper - a harsh, rasping hiss that verged on the squeak he hated to admit he had when he was emotional. It wasn’t particularly quiet.

“The stupid loose paneling was just the last thing in a slew of scrap!” He raised his talons, not to scratch, but to enumerate all the things he was dealing with. No one pity partied as hard as him. He counted off each woe on his claws. “I’ve had to redo the construction schedule three times because of the rains. The old smelting factory in Tarn just caved in so that sets us back on supplies. I’ve got to step up repairs on the other ones. Soundwave is a ticking time bomb, as you’re oh so fond of reminding me. I’ve barely had time to think about finding Megatron and I don’t know if I can count on Soundwave when I do! I’m not having much trouble automating our radar based defenses without him, but it’s one more thing I have do myself, and it takes time we don’t have. Suddenly Shockwave’s dragged me into his schemes, and I’d rather train Phoenix but I’ve barely seen her. I can’t sleep, so I try to work, but yes, Knockout, it’s so pathetic to have a slightoverreaction to the slagging base being so dilapidated you can’t even walk thr-”

He suddenly stopped. He flicked a wing. Had he seriously said what he thought he just said? Maybe Knockout had tuned out his rant. He could hope…?

Knockout deflated a bit at Starscreams retort. “That’s not what I mea-” but Starscream continued cutting him off undaunted wich made Knockout irritable again.

Knockout huffed now tireing. much of his initial fight leaving him as his fatigue set in and oposed the prospect of continuing this verbal sparing match further. he rolled his optics shaking his helm at most of it now. Starscream always had to have the last word.

None of it had to do with the actual issue Knockout had with being woken up. all he realy wanted was some peace and quiet to recharge…. was that so much to ask?

He had half a mind to just tune out Starscream now and head for his room and deal with the others temper at his actions in the morning.

And that was just what he had been about to do as he was turning to walk away when his audials caught a terrifyingly familiar name uttered, one he had NEVER expected to be associated along with the rest of their team efforts…

Knockout paused as if he was thinking over if he had realy just heard the other correctly.

Suddenly he whipped back around his optics burning bright red all semblance of fatigue gone, replaced by a burning fury!

“SHOCKWAVE!…. SH- SHOCKWAVE!!!?? WHAT-” he stomped closer anger rattling his shoulders. “DID-” Stomp “YOU-” stomp stomp “DO!!”

Knockout latched onto the thin edges of Starscreams shoulder pauldrons and jirked the seeker down face to face with his porcelain furious visage.

“You said Shockwave!!! You mean the mech who invented PREDACONS! The mech who Whipped out VOS THAT SHOCKWAVE!! What about SHOCKWAVE!? Starscream!??” Ironically Knockout had betrayed his own peace and quiet as his voice reached for new hights.

Knockout released Starscream pushing him away as his own mix of anger, anxiety and fear took hold.

He began to pace not knowing what to do with his Flux of sudden emotions. In this situation normally he could keep his cool perhaps a bit better but this was too much, too sudden and he was too tired to deal with this now! his ventilation systems kicking into overdrive as he neered hyperventalation.

Why would Starscream put them all at such risk!?

Shockwave was a threat he was dangerious to all of them Soundwave had been bad enough but now this! Knockout tried to calm himself but failed for a moment as he held his helm from the onset of a panic attack while he paced Infront of Starscream. He could not believe this!! How could Starscream go behind his back! Wasn’t he supposed to consult him before making a decision like this!! Of course he was! His anger boiled anew.

Clank thunk thunk. CLANK

Knockout in his panic had tripped and almost fallen forward from the offending piece of flooring that had started this whole mess!

“St-pid peice-ofScrap!” He growled through clenched denta and plunged his sawblade into the floor cutting off the offending piece of scrap before chucking it unceremoniously down the hall before a watching Starscream.

A moment later Knockout spun around to again stare at Starscream and spent a few more vents managing to compose himself to a degree.

Once he felt composed he continued.

“Considering neither of us are going to be getting any recharge now…” Knockout spoke calmly despite himself. “Care to enlighten me on this matter too Starscream… since you saw fit not to consult me to begin with!!” His voice sharpened on the last few words.

He waited now forcing himself to calm down before he did something he regret and punch the other in the face that wouldn’t go over well…for either of them. Starscream wasn’t like Breakdown afterall where that might have made a proper point.

But just like Breakdown when he had went off and did something royaly idiotic.

Starscream also had PLENTY of explaining to do!

Starscream’s hopes rose just for a moment as Knockout turned to walk away. But then he paused and Starscream’s wings slowly sank.

Scrap.

He backpedalled as Knockout stormed toward him, flinching and shutting his eyes when he was grabbed. Fighting back didn’t occur to him - his mind was racing to come up with something to get himself out of trouble. Someone jerking his frame and yelling in his face made him scramble for something to appease, and long experience had conditioned him to resist bringing his claws to bear lest he make things worse for himself. “Knockout,” he whispered, opening one eye and motioning for him to be quiet.

He backed away farther when Knockout let go of him, looking around wildly in case anyone else heard them. Knockout might be angry, and he had reason to be, but there were Seekers in his team who would leave, if not kill him, if they heard he had let Shockwave live.

As he watched Knockout stomping around, his own sense of outrage flared back to life. Did he think he was stupid? That all those concerns weren’t ever present in his mind every time he talked to or looked at, or even thought about Shockwave?

He was afraid of Shockwave. But he needed what he could do, and… it was like old times… He really didn’t want to admit any of those things to Knockout. The longer he’d waited the harder it had been to come up with how he should tell him, until it was impossible. Because then he’d have to explain the delay, and face the accusations and berating.

Well now there was no more putting it off, but he still had nothing to say for himself. For a long moment he cast about for some way to begin at least. He snapped out if it when Knockout tripped and handily sawed the broken floor panel off. That was one way to do it, and it brought him enough vindication to defend himself when Knockout finally addressed him more calmly.

“I was going to tell you,” he huffed, drawing himself up. “Shockwave and I both monitor Decepticon channels, and naturally we found each other again. I had no intention of getting into any schemes with him when I asked a simple hypothetical question about the Well of AllSparks. No one here is a biologist. I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you about it, but I knew you’d react exactly like this.” He brushed himself off where Knockout had grabbed him. “You don’t make it easy.”

“Realy Starscream were you?…” He rolled his optics listening. The nagging feeling of hurt returning. Did he want to replace him as a confidant? No that was rediculous! Wasnt it… He squashed it down.

Starscream continued to explain how this had all come about.

“Otherwise what your saying is you contacted him first… Primus…”

Knockout had been in the middle of pinching the bridge of his helm praying to Primus for strenth when Starscream accused him.

His helm snaped back up and he turned it very slowly to glare, almost baffled at the others ludicay for a moment before he could even bring himself to retort.

“Excuse me?! … hah hah! Iiiii~ make things dificult! Do you even hear yourself! Just uhhg! Just get in the med bay Starscream.”

Knockout quickly padded the medical bay doors open. At the doors swishing open he pointed into the room to indicate he wanted to have this conversation in a more private environment. As he was sure Starscream did as well.

“Leaders first…” Knockout spat.

After calming he realised his reaction could very well initiate a few eavesdropping eradicons soon… of course it was Starscreams fault for droping this on him instead of consulting him first! But Still he sensed Starscreams worry now… they couldn’t risk it that would not be ideal given the subject matter.

Once inside and the doors closed Knockout crossed his arms.

“So I make things dificult do I…? And you don’t supose adding Shockwave to the mess sounds like a sure fire method?” Knockout huffed.

“…what’s going on Starscream, just tell me…” Knockout sighed. “Why in your right mind did you think it was a good idea to contact that psychopath.” His shoulders fell a bit as he fought back the fear and hurt seeping into his voice. His optics on the other hand shown a different story.

why didn’t you trust me…

Starscream glared at Knockout but allowed himself to be ushered into the medbay, ducking his wings only enough to clear the doorframe before flaring them again. Once inside he turned to face Knockout, arms crossed on his chestplate.

“For your information, Knockout, I didn’t contact him first. Well, not on purpose. I didn’t seek him out. It was a comms frequency on a Decepticon channel, like I always look for. Once I knew it was him I couldn’t exactly cut off the channel without trying to find out what he was up to.”

He flicked a wing. That would have been a reasonable time to inform Knockout about the contact, but that wasn’t what he’d done. “Obviously we both suspected each other, and we were both trying to size each other up and see where things stood now that Megatron is gone.” Another wing flick. “We both told very little, and that was that. A short time later though, I was wondering about a biology question, and not a medical one. A… well, one that I would classify as mad science. Who better to ask?”

There was a long pause as Starscream tried to think which the several things that had happened next would upset Knockout the least. None, probably. He shifted and straightened his wings before continuing.

“He called me back with what I thought was an answer to that hypothetical question, but he… tricked me.” The last bit was mumbled quickly and quietly, because now that he’d said it all out loud the whole thing sounded like he’d given Shockwave the idea and then played directly into his hands for an obvious mad scheme. That might have been what happened but it wasn’t on purpose. And he also didn’t exactly have a problem with how things had turned out. He glanced around, not meeting Knockout’s gaze.

“I didn’t tell you because it all just sort of happened and it happened quickly, and… In retrospect I should have.”

“Oh joy more mad science!!! And here I thought you got your fill with me!… Of course he tricked you!! It’s Shoooockwaaaave!!!” Knockout facepalmed with a mild clang.

Despite his internal desire to interrupt further he resigned to listening to Starscreams explanations.

“Yes you should have…”

Knockout tensed when he realised Starscream had not only been in contact but had been meeting with Shockwave no doubt repeatedly for some time from the way he described things.

Happening quickly his aft. Starscream was lieing. He recognized that twitch in his wings.

What kind of crazy biology experimenting was so important Starscream repeatedly risk his saftey and kept it from one of his only confidants?! No matter how interesting a experiment Shockwave presented… Starscream still had been brash and it terrified Knockout to think about the what ifs.

“Starscream…. let me ask you this…” Knockouts voice had calmed but his tone was still serious.

“What do you suppose~ we would have done if Shockwave had tried to pull something drastic against you?… it could have left us all vulnerable without any knowledge as to what could have happened to you!” Knockout was looking at the far off wall in thought while he spoke. As if staring into a ghostly image of his own past.

“You can take care of yourself, but you made youself unnecisarily vulnerable and by extension us, to his subterfuge without a plan B. Without backup.” He paused but for only a moment.

“-And did you consider he’s still in contact with Predaking too? You could be in grave danger every time you are around him.” Knockouts concern filtered into his tone before his voice became hard again.

“This isn’t just about you and that lonely quest for ambition anymore! You have a loyal team who shares your goal! You have Phoenix and the squadron to look after! Stop acting like none of us matter when I know you don’t feel that way!” Knockout yelled his shoulders trembling not unlike the number of times he had failed to hide away his grief.

“This… slag you pulled its, it’s just like your reckless political days on vos before you learned to delegate! Or do you still not trust me to do my job!” Knockout raised his hand to point to Starscream then at himself before his arms flung wide in exclamation.

“You know better! And… I know you don’t want to hear this from me of all mechs… but that’s EXACTLY why I’m here telling you! Because you don’t want to hear it!” He stepped closer looking up into Starscreams optics with firm resolve.

“Starscream, Your too important now to take risks like this! And we can’t help you if you won’t let us!” Knockout looked up defiantly. He knew Starscream was going to be angry at him for this but he had to do something.

Knockout would not allow this.

Regardless of his own insecurities, He wouldn’t stand by and lose another friend to a trecherious enemy because they made foolish, rash decisions!

Not again!

At one point he might not have cared but now?… it terrified him to think how close he- they all had come to that same circumstance all over again.

He wouldn’t let it happen again. even if he had to face down Starscreams wrath to make that point.

He braced himself but never broke eye contact.

Starscream found it very hard to keep his wings flared as all of Knockout’s warnings and accusations piled up on him, but he managed, rolling the building hurt into his anger and focusing it all into maintaining his glare at the medic. At the mention of Predaking his hands began to shake, and when Knockout brought Phoenix into it he clenched his fists so tightly that Energon beaded up on his wrists.

“I know all that!” he yelled when Knockout was finally done. “You think I’m stupid?” They were standing so close together Starscream could easily strike Knockout for talking to him like that, for making him feel, well, stupid. He had taken all of that into account, many times over, every time he considered what was happening with Shockwave. They were things he accounted for, planned for, and set aside, satisfied he could handle it. Hearing it all laid out though, he found himself reeling. Perhaps he’d lost perspective on what was normal, having lived for so long with those sorts of calculated risks always in the back of his mind. But his risks hadn’t paid off… Ever.

He didn’t touch Knockout. Just for a moment, his wings quivered, but he flared them again. “I thought about all of it, Knockout! It wouldn’t be logical for him to try anything against me. Have you considered that everything is different now that Megatron is gone? He even told me he finally realized our former master played us against each other!” He thrashed his wings, trying to shake the recollection of the momentary understanding he and Shockwave had shared. He loathed agreeing with the scientist, even if it meant he was vindicated.

“I hate him, don’t worry about that. My claws ache to pierce his wretched Spark! But he offered me a chance to see the rebirth of my kind - actually see it with my own eyes. I went with him, and I didn’t know what he was going to do, but now he’s working for the Seekers. Let’s just say he owes me and he’s working it off so his death might be less painful. I’m not saying I trust him, because I admit he tricked me, but he needs my expertise this time as much as I need his.” He tried to sell that last point, as much to himself as to Knockout, but found it rang hollow.

“And-” he glanced away just for a moment, casting about for a finishing argument, before returning with an even fiercer stare. “And don’t you dare bring Phoenix into this! I kept everything separate with Shockwave because he can’t know about her. He’d be overcome with curiosity if he learned where she came from, and that’s unthinkable! Let him be in his lab with the Protoform, far away from here! I was figuring it out!” Even he knew that was lame. Compartmentalizing was no excuse for keeping Knockout out of the loop, but up until this very moment, it had made sense on some insane level. Knockout, Phoenix, his team, they were his world now. Shockwave was the past - an ally of convenience whom he was using for his own ends. It was a simple past where he knew what he had to do and who he had to do it to, and at times Starscream still missed it, perverse as it was. If Knockout was placed in that world… a world where Starscream used everyone and his every move was a cynical calculation, then Starscream would only hurt him again.

But now, looking at Knockout’s unwavering glare, his well justified anger and poorly concealed fear, he realized - he had hurt him anyway. He couldn’t juggle a world where he was not alone anymore, a world he still barely understood, and a familiar world where he had nothing - no one - to lose. He’d lose either way.

Finally his wings fell, and he looked down, busying himself with wiping away the Energon that dripped from his wrists. “I know I should have told you,” he said again, quietly now that he was out of excuses and bluster. “I - I’m sorry. I do trust you, and I’m not trying to do this alone. It’s just… alone is how I’ve had to do things. I always lose everyone and it’s usually because of Shockwave. And…” His voice staticked out but he continued anyway. “because of me. I was afraid to tell you. Jetfire left and even Thundercracker left. My Trypticon crew… they didn’t leave; Shockwave butchered them, but I couldn’t hold the station. The stakes were high then, just like now, and they left anyway, or were taken. I couldn’t stop it. I made mistakes… and they cost so much.”

He fell silent, waiting tensely for Knockout to berate him for not trusting him, like he always did. Still, he could weather that, because despite the fears he’d just confessed, he did trust him. He knew Knockout wouldn’t leave him again, deep down, though he feared losing him to Shockwave. Even if the Seekers caught wind of him working with the mass murderer of their kind, and turned on him as a traitor, Knockout wouldn’t leave him. So he’d let him be angry. Who wouldn’t be, having to deal with a mess like him?

Knockouts anger continued to boil as he listened to Starscream drone on and on in traditional outrage of how his insanity was a good idea…

However like a pin to a ballon the building fury suddenly released at 2 simple words.

“I’m sorry”

Knockout took a moment to process what he just heard… the words indeed spoken in true sincerity.

Knockouts shoulders fell in an instant all semblance of heated retort dying on his vocals. Instead he heaved a long tired sigh before approaching the seeker.

“Starscream… I am not Thundercracker or jetfire… and your not alone not anymore…” He placed a gentle palm on Starscream’s shoulder.

“Just because I think you’re out of your processor for dabbling with Shockwave for what possibly could be the most backwards risky unethical scheme to date, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave… besides someone need to stick around to watch the rear.” Knockout smirked with a knowing glint that Starscream would recognize.

“And quite honestly, this whole conversation is completely exhausting for the both of us and at this point I know too much and your not going to kill me soooo you might as well tell me everything now so we can both get back to recharge…” Knockout pulled up a chair inviting the seeker to take a seat before he did so behind his desk.

However before Starscream could begin to elaborate he held up a single digits signaling a momentary pause. During which time Knockout retrieved 2 energon canisters and promptly placed them before filling them with a particularly strong grade of highgrade.

“Cheers” Knockout lifted the canister before promptly throwing it back in one swig.

“Alright, begin”

Starscream waited with downcast optics for Knockout to respond. None of his excuses made any sense and he knew it, but even now he cast about for something to ward off the desperate feeling of not knowing what to do. The medic’s prolonged silence only made him more apprehensive with each passing moment. He was really going to get it, and he was too spent to put up another fight.

He tensed at the touch on his shoulder, not flinching but still drawing inward. Knockout’s assurance that he wasn’t Jetfire or Thundercracker only seemed to crack the welds on those old wounds and made them bleed. Starscream struggled to find his voice, barely managing to mutter, “I know…,” as he turned to face Knockout. He’d spent so long convincing himself that he hated the old friends who had abandoned him, that he didn’t need their help and was better off without them, and now it hurt to recall how earnestly and sometimes desperately he’d sought their advice and trusted them to have his back.

As he watched Knockout move off and offer him a seat, he tried to remember the knack of explaining a problem to someone and… asking for help. Civilizations on countless worlds had flourished and fallen since he’d last done so. Stars had burned out.

The medic’s sly jabs and matter-of-fact insistence that he divulge everything oddly did reassure Starscream. This was Knockout. He wasn’t going anywhere, and even the fact that he’d seen all of the same dangers Starscream himself had seen in the situation was a good start. Freaking outabout them hadn’t helped, but now that the shock had worn off, they could get down to business.

He eased down onto the seat and fussed with his wings a bit, not sure how to hold them.

“All right. I’ll tell you. Just keep it down.” He gave Knockout a sharp look, before taking his canister of Energon and turning slowly in his claws.

“As I said, I asked him a hypothetical question, about what would happen if an implanted Spark were taken from the Well prematurely. I was worried about whether there were any Seekers being born or not, and what was happening with them. I specifically told him not to try it.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Of course, when does anyone listen to me? Anyway, a while later he called up to tell me he knew for certain that Seekers were being born, and could show me. I… went with him.”

For a long moment he grew quiet, staring into the fuel he held. “The Well was… it was incredible. And sure enough, at the bottom we found one. A Seeker.” He held his hands about three feet apart to show show Knockout how small the protoform had been, and a soft smile stole onto his face. “It was only this big, but you could already the wing roots forming. I was trying to think of when we might be able to venture down again and check on it, when I turned around to see Shockwave cutting it right out of the ground!”

He swept his hand and flared his wings, recalling his outrage at what Shockwave had done. “I didn’t know that’s what he was planning! But sticking it back in the hole it came from wouldn’t repair the damage. It would have died. So…. I flew it back to his lab, where it’s now growing in one of his cloning tanks.” Finally he knocked back his drink and set the empty canister down. “It’s the best thing he’s ever had in there by a long shot. Hmph. Unfortunately it does make killing him more complicated. At least for now.”

Knockout stared optics wide jaw slack… the high grade doing hardly a thing for him when faced with this type of taboo.

Knockouts shoulders were again shaking but his own shock over the horrendous act was enough to keep him quiet for the moment.

That was until the canister in his hand exploded into a thousand pieces despite his obvious restraint.

“He… you both took a newspark… a child… from the Allspark…” Knockout couldn’t look at Starscream but instead his saucered optics cast downward at the broken shards now littering the desk In front of him and the energon dripping from his hand that had accidentally been sliced by a few of the stray shards.

The damage was hardly what bothered him most.

He wanted to yell to be angry again to shake the other and scream his outrage but all he could do was stare in horrified shocked silence for what seemed to stretch on for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

Finally Knockout found his voice once more.

“Starscream… I need to see the protoform… what you and shockwave have done is… I just… take me to the lab we have work to do if that spark is going to survive with Shockwave.” Knockouts voice remained calm now but almost deadened. As if any semblance of personality was being blocked out or repressed.

getting up from his desk Knockout turned his back to the seeker still sitting at his desk while he retrieved a tool to extract the shards from his hand. cleaning it and bandaging the minor wounds he did not turn to face the other as he spoke again quietly.

“I think… you should go- take a flight, should help calm your nerves.” Knockout spoke his tone professional… impersonal.

“I will prepare for tomorrow…” was all the more Knockout spoke leaving no room for debate.

Starscream looked expectantly at Knockout once he’d come clean about everything that had happened. Surprisingly he did feel relieved now that he’d laid it all out. That is, until Knockout crushed the Energon canister in his grip. The Seeker’s wings whipped down, clanging against the back of the chair, and he stood partway, not sure what Knockout was about to do. He noted that the medic was quite pointed about lumping him in with Shockwave, and his wings flared slightly. It wasn’t fair.

“It was mostly Shockwave. I didn’t want to- I didn’t mean to… ” Trying to fill the silence only made it worse, and he trailed off, finally just nodding when Knockout said he needed to see the protoform.

Of course he did, and Starscream wanted him to. When Knockout got up to leave, Starscream started to follow him, relieved to have a new plan, to have help. His restless mind latched onto the idea of getting started and he forgot how tired he was. But when Knockout spoke, he stopped, wings sinking slowly behind him.

You should go.

He was glad, in a way, that Knockout wouldn’t look at him as he stood there at a loss, swinging one fist against his leg and blinking nervously. Knockout didn’t want him around… Perhaps the medic needed to think. That was probably it. But Starscream couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his wings, and he tried to force the memories of all the times Thundercracker had shut him out like that from his mind. It had happened more and more towards the end… This was different though. Knockout said he was going to help. Or perhaps, not so different after all, except that this time Starscream was going to let him.

Finally he turned and stepped toward the medbay door. “Tomorrow then,” he murmured, not looking back as he twitched his wings together and slunk out.

#compiled threads #shocking revelations #cut for length #getting a few more of these done

[blandmemoirs]

Anger

Rage, Fury, Fire, Pain, Momentum, Energy, unyielding emotion. When I am angry my mind is clear of all the torment of anxiety or doubt. I become objective driven, I become focused, I become energized. I am filled with a burning passion to move, and to never stop moving.

In days of old, my anger would manifest through methods of lashing out. Of attacking, of punching back, of inflicting pain on that which upset me. This is unproductive. To hurt another as a result of your frustration is unjustified. It doesnt make a situation better. It makes it worse. It builds further resentment between yourself and the person you are angry at. It prevents solutions. It causes more hurt. I learned this a long time ago and understand it today. I cannot swear to pacifism, but I will not resort to violence unless my safety or the safety of those I love is directly threatened.

I made a choice a few years ago to use my anger productively. If I am to become angry, I cannot lash out. I cannot hurt other people. I have to use it to be productive. Anger, like any emotion, is a flare of passion in the body and mind. It is energy, and it can be redirected in ways that dont further a cycle of violence. That is what I live to prove.

I am an angry person. I get angry, often. Its not a new development in my life. It has followed me since my childhood. Its sources are numerous. I cant attribute it to any one cause or happening. I have always been angry.

I know this because in kindergarten, I would pick fights with other children, often. Just random, chaotic violence. I enjoyed it. I liked hurting other people. Then I would go home to more violence. This time from my parents into me as discipline for my actions. My parents would belt me for more than just violence, it could come from me simply acting out. Sometimes I was spared the physical harm by recieving emotional harm from furious yelling. My parents taught me anger and violence, and their resorting to violence taught me to resort to violence. Might made right. I shouldnt put all of my problems on my parents, but they wear a substantial amount of blame for the way I learned to cope and act.

My father is an angry man. He grew up in harsh conditions with a harsh family that put him through worse than I've ever lived through. He made sure to tell me that anytime I voiced the tyranny in his actions. He resents his older brother, doesnt like his father, and has spent much of his life failing. Deep in debt from his own mistakes, bearing the blame for a fractured household and broken marriage, he is full of anger. He takes out his anger on those weaker than him. From the dogs he can kick when they bark too loud, to the children he can endlessly insult and shout at for minor transgressions. All made worse by alcoholism to cope. My father is not a bad man, but an incredibly flawed and broken one. He does make efforts to redeem and be better, but he has not yet atoned for his actions, and the marks he has left on his children will linger whether he accepts it or not.

My mother is an angry woman. Raised in a split household between parents who live irresponsibly and resent each other. She was a rebellious youth who took her own childhood away when I was conceived. A child raising a child. A lack of freedom as her life is indebted to my survival and later, two more. Dead end job to dead end job. A broken marriage and a dysfunctional family she is forced to raise with no individual progress to be attained. She resents her circumstances. She desires higher living and a fate she can control. She takes out her anger on those weaker than her. From the dogs she can hit to the children she can scream at for "negativity". All made worse by alcohol and weed. My mother is not a bad woman, she is just an incredibly flawed and broken one. A girl who became a mother too quickly. An independent soul tethered to a path of dependence. She makes efforts to be better, but often furthers a rift she created. Her anger will be remembered in the hearts of her children.

I do not know the true extent of my parents lives, I only know what I have seen, been revealed, and assumed. I know one thing for certain, they are examples of how not to grow up. The anger they live with is an anger I live with. To tame their beasts they drink and lash out, I must be better.

Which is why I cling so desperately to the example set for myself by the Incredible Hulk, my favorite character. A genius with deep emotional trauma turned into a monster fueled by rage. Dr Robert Bruce Banner must learn to live with the monster that dwells inside him. The Hulk, limitless rage personified, is a monster that does not want to hurt people, but just wants to be left alone among his friends. He is violent, but only because he recieves violence. The monster is capable of reason, of morality, of seeing through the surge of rage to know what is right and what is wrong. As such, the Hulk chooses to be a hero, to save and protect the innocent and to smash those who do evil. Bruce Banner must live with his anger, to know when it is right to let the beast out and to understand when smashing is the wrong option.

Banner has spent most of his life trying to rid himself of the Hulk, but the Hulk is not something Banner can live without. The Hulk is a part of Bruce, is a piece of his damaged psyche which will always exist. The gamma radiation only externalized these features.

Hulk also resents Banner, and wishes he could exist without him. Hulk doesn't like Banner's weak manner and conniving mind. Hulk doesn't like being locked up in a cage in the back of Banners mind. Hulk wants to be free and Hulk wants to be left alone.

These two characters are inseparable, and two sides of the same coin. Hulk is a manifestation of Banners trauma and repressed anger. Hulk is a destructive force of passion that can be directed to do good. These entities must coexist, for they need each other.

What does this have to do with me? In a less hyperbolic manner, my rage is a part of me. It does not go away. It never ends. It is a piece of my heart and mind. It is a force that makes me want to destroy all that causes harm to those I love. Anger does not cease within the chaotic storm that is my heart, it persists and waits for its time to possess me. When I am angry my body tenses, my eyes focus, my heart beats at rapid pace, my stomach churns, my body shakes. At its worst I lose sight and see nothing but flashes of red as I convulse into shivers of rage. When control of my body is returned the next moment, my mind is clear and I am energized in a way almost as potently as when I am in love. I can do almost anything. It is raw adrenaline. I move faster, harder, and with more force and precision than when I am in a normal state. I make objectives and carry them through. I become a machine fueled by limitless rage. It can almost be addicting. Sometimes I have so much force locked inside I feel an urge to scream. I often repress it for the sake of keeping attention away from myself. Anger makes me more effective in my work. Be it my actual job, my writing, or editing. I am so focused, creative forces flow, all through the red lense of rage. Sometimes I run, sometimes I drive, sometimes I channel this energy into speaking. An endless monologue or a consoling speech to a friend in need. For that is the true root to my rage. A friend in pain. When a friend is hurt, I flare up. The closer and more important my friend, the angrier I get. The angrier I get the more energy I have and the more I cant stop moving. My foot tapping, my leg bouncing, I pace. Anger does not debilitate me, it gives me more ability than I know what to do with.

It is not just that a friend is in pain, it is that I cant do anything to stop it. I can't do anything to change their cirumstance. I cannot save them from their suffering because the forces that hurt them are out of my control, out of my influence. I can only console, and console I do, even as rage paves the way of my actions.

When my anger releases its possession of me, I am left to deep introspection and concern. Did I do enough? Did I help? Did I do anything? Why was I angry? I feel rejuvenated, almost born anew. The passion has retreated to my internal self, and I am left feeling cool and calmer. Sometimes, in truly helpess circumstances, I feel empty. I was not enough. I didn't do enough. Worst, when my anger was used unproductively, I feel guilty. Knowing I was wrong and unjust. It is a betrayal to myself to use anger to harm others.

Today I was made angry at the hurt of one of the most important people in my life whom I care deeply for. Their circumstances are far beyond my powers to control, and they themself live far from me. The only thing I can do is send my love and support in the form of text or voice. It never feels like enough. My anger possesses me, and the temptation to strike out at the world that causes such endless pain for my loved ones exists. A random act of violence to atone for the wrongs done to another. That is not right. There is no justice in that. There is no good to come from it. So instead I made my objective to work harder, to make more money in my shift and to ensure my immediate environment was taken care of. I wished every coworker safe travels and good nights, I greeted and enthusiastically interacted with customers and pedestrians who gave me the time. Spreading good energy and doing good for others while powered up with this anger made for a more productive day. When the anger finally relinquished, I began typing. To explain, and to document for myself. I can do good with the frustration I feel. I can be a good man.

I understand this all very intimately now. A younger, less introspective Robbie did not. I got angry, had so much energy and power in my palms I only thought to make a fist. I would then use those fists for causes of pain and revenge, sometimes on undeserving parties. It built a guilt deep inside me that I will never forgive myself for. I can only be a better person now. Instead of making a fist I pick up a pen, or more truthfully I grab a keyboard. Words, endless words, inspired by anger and made real through my choices to funnel that rage.

I am inseparable from my anger. My anger is a part of me. I have to own it, and I have to admit to it. I cant live in fear of myself for what can happen when I lose control, as rare as such an occurence is. I have to instead use it to be productive, and clean up what messes I make with it. And I will make messes. I will hurt people. It is inevitable for an emotion as potent as anger. Sometimes the lense of rage prevents us from seeing reality as fairly as we might. Sometimes a fist is formed.

It is my responsibility and my burden to bear. I cannot blame others for my own nature. I can not allow myself to resent others for who I am. When I am made angry, instead I must find a way to resolve my conflicts and make good.

The Hulk has been saving the world for decades through his anger, and I can do the same. Its not easy. Living with yourself and accepting yourself is hard for some people who look deep into themselves enough. I used to cage this monster, to repress it. It would always free itself and come to the surface. Pent up aggression and bitterness blinds anger and creates pain. Instead, I will live with this intensity I call my anger, and I will continue to live to make it productive, for the benefit of myself and my friends.

I should not hate myself because I am angry. My anger is rooted in the love I have. There is nothing wrong with being angry unless I choose to hurt others with it. That is a choice I will not make unless the other is someone of truly abominable character.

Robbie Bland is an angry person, but he is not a bad person because of it. Make your anger productive. 'Nuff said. Thanks for reading.

[thedouchebrigadesympathizer]

Hey. Quick ask from me before I go to sleep: do you have some Christmas headcanons for Shigaraki, Dabi and Himiko? Like, what they do, what they think about Christmas and some possible presents they give to each other? (If it's too much to do for all three, I leave it up to you to choose one person)

Coincidentally, I have a Tomura/Reader drabble I wrote a while back and I can add it to this post so you’re in luck~! HC go in order of; What do they do for the holiday, Opinion on Christmas, and Presents they give/want to receive. SFW ahead!!!

Tomura Shigaraki / Tenko Shimura / FuckHands McMike

Tomura just goes along with whatever Kurogiri or maybe All For One has planned for the holidays. He’s Mr. Grinch, but he might watch an american Christmas movie, but for the most part he lives this holiday as if it is a normal day for him. If Toga is running around, however, you might catch him leaning against the bar with a Santa hat on. Because she forced it on his damn head.

He doesnt like Christmas. He is the biggest Grinch known to mankind and honestly he tries to avoid the holiday all together, and holes up in his room unless Kurogiri drags him out to be forcibly festive. He has been known to destroy holiday cheer by walking in a room.

Tomura gives things he would like. Video games, mostly. He isnt very creative and spends as little of his money as possible anyhow. You might end up getting a second hand game from two consoles previous and he will expect you to like it. Tomura wants video games, electronics, and maybe a fucking hug. Someone give him a hug, he really needs one. And some whiskey.

Dabi / Smokey Todoroki / Burnt Toaster Strudel

Dabi, surprisingly, celebrates Christmas. Sure, he isnt decking the halls (maybe decking some drunks in the face, but it’s all in the spirit of the holidays), but he’s got the Christmas spirit, y’know? He spends the day in a ratty old Christmas sweater, wears whatever stupid hat Toga forces over his hair, and has a beer in his hand the entire day. Waking up? Drinking. Sit down? Drinking. Drinking? More Drinks. He’s going to be buzzed and screaming Christmas carols with Spinner.

He likes Christmas. There are a few sore aches in his heart when he wonders how the rest of his family is spending the holiday, but he’s chipper as much as Dabi can be, all while following Toga around to help her decorate and shop. He is a sucker for stealing during the holidays, and often comes back to the base with shit no one needs. Perfume? Uh, i guess it’s Toga’s or Magne’s now. Golf clubs? Kurogiri can take up the sport, sure. A self stirring mug? Mmm, He’ll keep that one for his hot cocoa later- so he can mix in the schnapps properly.

Dabi gifts what he steals, so honestly everything is kind of like a White Elephant gift from him. You could wind up with something cool, or like, silly putty. Its a win-loose situation, but there’s always going to be a laugh. Dabi wants cigarettes, alcohol, and new shoes. Specifically, new shoes that could be similar to docs.

Himiko Toga / Murder Child / Ghost Of Christmas Stabbing

Toga is so chock full of Christmas spirit that she’s the one doing all the decorating, she is the one planning a big “family” meal with certain League members, and she’s up before the rest to stuff presents under a tree in the base. Good noodle. She’s got the Christmas cheer, and she went to Elf Practice, I assure you.

As stated, she loves Christmas. Though, others are kind of worried about the backstory as to why the holiday is so important to her. No one besides maybe Dabi, who is brave enough to ask, and when he does, she ignores him. Most likely, her family didnt want to celebrate many holidays with her, so her new “family” is being set on a grand pedestal to replace them. She’s going to make happy memories with these villains, and she’s sworn it will e the best damn Christmas any of them had ever seen!!!

Toga 10/10 has a list of things everyone wants. and she sticks to it. Surprisingly, there is no random stuff from her, at all. All her presents are thoughtful and just what the recipient had asked for. Where did she get the money? Well. Ask Dabi. He helped get them. Toga would want cute things, and knives. Maybe those rainbow tinted holographic knives? She likes Rilakkuma a lot, and enjoys being gifted makeup.

“Don’t be such a grinch.” You snapped, hanging up your immaculately created paper snowflakes. Each one you had hung before had been shaped and styled differently than the last, the one you carefully tapped to the ceiling of the base being no different.

Below you and standing beside the ladder you had claimed for decoration use, you didn’t need to look down to know your grinch was baring an openly displeased look in his scarlet eyes. He scoffed at your accusation.

“You are way too old to believe in Santa.” He kicked lightly at a box just below the ladder, your army of crafted snowflakes shuffling about inside. “Christmas is stupid anyhow.”

“I’m an adult, I know Santa isn't real.” You shot him a look, stepping down from the ladder and scooting it out of his way, using your foot to push the box back to the step ladder and climbing it once again, a new snowflake in hand. “And like i said, don't be a grinch, Shigaraki. I’ll get you something for the holidays.”

“I dont need your charity.” The pale haired man said, insulted you would even offer. He scratched at his neck, clearly growing irritated. “I don't want to see all this winter wonderland shit, [First Name].”

You attached the snowflake to a piece of string, tapping it to the ceiling just like last time. You were slower now, thinking on Tomura’s actions and how he chose his words.

Why was he such a bitter, bitter man?

You exhaled through your nose heavily, glancing around the base with a somewhat pleased expression. You had done a lot with the time Tomura had given you. You were proud. It truly did look like a winter wonderland… The clean up was gonna be hell.

“No one is going to be here anyhow.” Tomura continued, surveying the bar with disgust. “You won't be here.”

“Actually,” you said softly, climbing down the steps before resting your elbows on the top one, eyeing Tomura with a gentle smile. “I will be here. So will Kurogiri, Toga, Twice and a few others. Dabi too, but i'm sure that doesn't thrill you.”

“It doesn't.” He confirmed quickly, still seeming annoyed, but you got the vague feeling he had lessened his aggression a tad.

There was silence between you as you continued to work at your goal of making the bar area nice and festive, your boss, despite his apparent disinterest, did not leave your side.

After a while, he spoke again. His vice softer than you expected, face bare of a mask so you would see the hesitation behind his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re going to be here?”

You nodded, stuffing remaining snowflakes and other little trinkets in an old cardboard box, which you had marked simply with ‘Christmas Stuff’. You picked the box up, brushing past him.

“I wouldn't miss it for the world, Tomura.”

He watched you leave, a skip in your step despite how off putting he had tried to be. Again, his gaze swept the bar. He noticed all the effort you put forward, the details of the snowflakes and sparkle of the tinsel lining the bar counter. There were christmas theme throws on the single couch in the by the dartboard, and packets of hot chocolate laid on the counter.

Unbeknownst to you, he  felt a quirk at this lips. Not a full smile, but something in the very least. You had called him by his first name, and had cleared your schedule for him. He liked that. Even if he didn't realize quite yet why that fact made his heart flutter just a bit more, he knew it meant something. Something special, so he supposed, you were special too.

So maybe this Christmas wouldn't be so bad, after all, he would have you this year.

#Tomura #Tomura Shigaraki #Dabi #Toga #Himiko Toga #Hc #Christmas #Scenario #*finger guns* #Fuckhands McMike