#SO JUST TAKE THE ADVICE AND CHARGE WHAT IS COMPETITIVE IN YOUR AREA AT LEAST INSTEAD OF TRYING TO UNDERCUT COMPETITION

[healingheartdogs]

I know it's been a few years since I've run my own dog training business instead of working for someone else for exploitation wages and that previously I was working in the rural south where prices are a bit different in general, but out of curiosity I decided to look at some dog training services in my area in upstate NY today and got hit with sticker shock ngl.

Most places don't post their prices so I could only compare a few (which... I sort of get since they want to avoid competition doing what I'm doing right now lol but as someone who has run a dog training business and had business marketing included in my education it's something I see as an... *interesting* choice, because most clients want to know price up front without having to contact you and wait for a response because they probably already have a budget in mind and just want to be able to quickly see if you fit into it or not, which means not having prices posted will make some potential clients immediately look elsewhere and if you don't even have some sort of price range for services posted somewhere then most of your calls and emails will just be people asking for pricing and a majority of those calls and emails will not lead to services purchased so it ends up wasting a lot of unpaid time on office work BUT THATS AN UNRELATED TOPIC, I DIGRESS) but WOWZA the ones that did have prices posted really made me realize I do NOT live in a low cost of living place anymore.

One of the popular places here that I looked at charges $150+ for ONE training session with one of their APPRENTICE trainers. It's double that price to train with one of their more experienced dog trainers for just one session.

I looked back at some of the trainers I was competing with back in FL and NC to compare as well as the dog training school I went to just to check and see if prices were getting that high in other rural areas, and nope. Most places $300 would still get you at least three - maybe up to six - private lessons spread out over three (or six, or whatever) weeks, which is the pricing range I'm used to seeing dog trainers in the rural south suffer with because of places like Petsmart setting the pricing bar so low.

I'm pretty sure I have more formal dog training education and certification than most of the employees at this place too since even their main "behaviorist" (not a protected title in the USA so anyone can call themselves that) has no certifications listed at all that I can find, so... I guess now that I live here if I ever start training again I'm going to have to rethink my pricing lol even if I don't charge those kinds of prices I clearly still need to bump them up in this area from what I used to charge in order to be competitive with these other training businesses.

[cookiesfor-nialler]

How to Get Started in Professional Wedding Photography

There is of course much to consider beyond taking pictures. How will you build up a portfolio to show clients? How will you win clients? How will you present your portfolio? What packages will you offer? What equipment do you need? How much post- processing will be involved? How much can you charge and how can you maximise profits? Importantly, can you make a living from professional wedding photography?

It is actually easier to get started in portrait photographer compared with wedding photography - you can start with family and friends who are usually willing subjects. south farm royston

It is harder to build a wedding photography portfolio with no experience, but it can be done. There might be a wedding in the family, where you could ask for a short time with the bride and groom to photograph them. It can be a problem if they have hired a photographer who may not appreciate the competition. Alternatively you could hire a model and a wedding dress, hire a local wedding venue or church. Portfolio workshops could be a good option if you are in a hurry, although might be expensive and you have less control. Working as a second shooter at a wedding could be a good option.

Running a successful wedding photography business involved around 20% photography and 80% marketing. You will need to consider how to win clients otherwise you have no business. We have found the best way to advertise your services is to have a website where you display your online portfolio. Other forms of advertising (adverts on cars, in magazines) may not be so successful. Be careful to only show your very best work and it must be very well presented. You will have an initial conversation with the bride or groom. Remember the main purpose is only to book a meeting with the couple.

Your pricing structure depends on your target market. It is best to avoid the 'budget photographer' label, it can be very difficult to shake off as you gain experience. surrey wedding photographer prices

Remember to factor in all the hours that will be spent preparing for the wedding, the post-production work (which could be several days for one wedding), the cost of equipment, insurance and transport. You need to have an idea of what the serious competition is charging. If you are just starting, you will need to be reasonably priced compared to them. You can put your prices up as you gain experience. My advice would be not to work for free just to gain experience! You will be valued more highly by paying customers who appreciate good photography. An effective pricing strategy would be to offer at least 3 levels of service. Your lowest priced package should be above the 'budget photoographers' in your area. Clients should clearly see what they will be getting, both the hours of photography and the format of presentation. In many cases, clients opt for the middle package when presented with a choice of 3 levels!

The booking meeting, start with the highest level package. Show only stunning and creative shots of brides, bride & groom together and reportage style shots. Don't show group shots, they are often much less inspiring and will not win many clients!

Decisions are made based on you and whether they like you. Believe it or not, they are not analysing your photography so much as your behaviour! They have most likely already seen some of your work on your website. Be relaxed, confident, friendly and business like. Your posture will win the assignment! You don't need to start planning the wedding at this stage. Later, you will have a pre-wedding meeting, where the wedding photography will be planned in detail. It is usual to take a deposit of around 20% to secure the booking and the remainder needs to be paid before the wedding (don't wait until after, you will struggle to get it!)

In many ways, your choice of equipment is much less important than the marketing considerations already discussed. Photographers have their own view on what equipment they need and will be determined by style.

In general, you will need professional grade equipment, with spares of everything! Be prepared for equipment failures.

As you progress, you will develop your own unique style and preferred ways of working. How much posing do you like to do? Do you prefer to be a fly on the wall and record a documentary style. I have always felt more secure with an element of intervention and posing, but keeping this to a minimum and working quickly is likely to produce more natural results. Gone are the days of long sessions talking formal groups, although some group shots are recommended. A group shot can be turned into a reportage shot quite easily, for example, by asking the subjects to look at each other and smile!

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ bed of spider webs﹫mark lee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was nice and helped everyone, he had good grades and still, somehow, was seen like a cool kid to hang out with, most people wanted to be his friend. Even though, with all the teenager movies you’ve seen, good grades and popularity aren’t compatible. You really didn’t know how he did it, but since junior high school, where the sense of competition started growing within you, you’ve had the theory that perhaps, he sold his soul to the devil for both good grades and popularity.

He even was every teacher’s favourite, always the one who could go out for the cool tasks, always the one in charge, always the one praised.

Alright, maybe you were exaggerating. You had a few great tasks too, but you still lived in Mark Lee’s shadow, or at least, you thought so. No matter what you did, he was still a bit better than you, and it was driving you insane. You could complain about him to your friends, to your family, even. Mark Lee was a name that left your mouth with venom and disgust. So obviously, when high school arrived, everyone knew you two were mortal nemesis.

Puberty took a bit of time to do its job on you, only hitting you towards the very end of high school, but it definitely didn’t forget about Mark. That’s another thing your then materialistic young mind hated about him, he had the grades, he even had the looks. Now that you think about it, it’s like he never even had an ugly period, and if somebody asked you, that was just unfair, the universe hated you.

When puberty was doing its job on Mark Lee, making him taller, his features sharp but somehow still holding pieces of his baby face, he was one of the most popular in high school, while you preferred staying out of drama and whatever popular kids do.

However, it was hard to stay completely out of drama when Mark Lee found extremely funny to remind you that he was better than you, sometimes turning around in the middle of class to show you his grade, other times going as far as waiting for you near your locker. His once innocent and kind smile had turned into an everlasting superior smirk, the one that said, I am better than you, we both know it, everyone knows it. Your competition was in the public eye.

God knows you tried to outrun him in at least one discipline. You tried dancing, even if you were good at it, he was still better, with a lot more practice. You tried getting popular, which was a lost cause before you ever tried, Mark practically ruled the school. You tried getting better grades than him, but he was always, always, one small point ahead of you.

Most of the time, unknowing teachers would be amazed by the two of you, at how you two always seemed to be the top two students, always one tiny step apart. Sometimes, they would even ask for the two of you to do a project together, to which you would always firmly and strongly disagree too, while Mark had the same smirk on his face.

However, one year, you found it. His weakness. And really, you should’ve thought about it way before. You’ve always been better than him at drawing, since kindergarten. He was so bad at art that he couldn’t colour inside the lines, he couldn’t draw one decent looking circle, he couldn’t understand the underlying meaning of a piece of art.

And finally, you found something you were better at, something he couldn’t do as perfectly as you did. Art classes quickly became your favourite classes and the original intent of outrunning him strangely faded to actual interest in every type of art.

You would never, ever admit it, but in a way, it’s because, and thanks to Mark Lee that you found your way. As he filled his inscriptions for universities specialized in the scientific field, you were filling yours with art schools, art universities. That’s why, at the end of high school, you really, really thought he was gone. Out of your sight, out of your life. No more competitions, no more Mark Lee.

But boy, you were wrong. 

You’ll always remember your first day at your new university. You’ve dreamed about it, you’ve dreamed about Mingtian. You may have asked for multiple universities, you prayed to get to Mingtian, one of the continent’s top university. Everything was in your favour. You had moved out of your parent’s home, finally getting the independence you so long craved for, you had your dorm. You would make new friends, finally study something you liked, really, what could go wrong?

At first, nothing did. The weather was nice, the sun was out as you took your first step on campus, you were amazed by how big the campus was. Your first class was as amazing, you never ever liked being in class so much. And you made new friends. Yes, they weren’t in your field, but still.

You met Johnny at your local café. You were exploring the area, trying to find a place to study where you found the small café at the corner of a street, brown brinks and beige furniture. It was welcoming, the scent of coffee and pastries taking over your nose as soon as you took a step in.

Johnny was too occupied to welcome you, another worker did. However, he messed your order up and insisted on letting you get a free croissant, and that’s how the two of you became friends.

He told you he was Korean, lived for over a decade in America. He told you about his city and about his studies. You weren’t surprised when he told you he was at Mingtian, in the dorm just in front of yours. He was new as well and was studying music. Two artists meet and conversation flows easily, quickly, you two become good friends despite the differences. Johnny is the type of guy that doesn’t study until the last minute and waste every free moment partying or working on his music, but one thing is sure, he’s a good friend.

So much so that a month into the school year, when he finds out that he’s you’re only friend you’ve made yet, he insists on introducing you to his new music major friend.

Jaehyun, the other music major, was probably the sweetest person you’ve ever met. The first time you saw him at one of Johnny’s frat house party, he was screaming the lyrics of a song at the top of his lungs, the next day, he was making his mom’s secret recipe to cure any headache.

Quickly, the blond became one of your close friends, he would help you with some art project since he was extremely photogenic, and you would help him practice his vocals when Johnny was too busy working.

As said, Johnny’s frat hosted a lot of parties. If anyone heard some loud bass outside, there was a ninety-five per cent chance that it came from the infamous frat house. To be fair, when you first stepped into your new university, you didn’t think you would ever attend a frat party, but Johnny and Jaehyun both forced you to come, Johnny made it a point to introduce you to new friends every single time.

You can’t remember how many times you walked into the house, walking like a lost puppy, looking for one of your two friends submerged in a wave of college student’s body dancing to the new hit. Vision blocked by a mixture of blinding lights, artificial smoke and weed smoke before you finally found them, moulded into an old couch. You would slowly make your way to them, looking at the new friend they had that night, Johnny would finally, catch a glimpse of you and introduce you as “Y/N that doesn’t have a lot of friends.

Tonight is one of those nights.

When you walk out after waving goodbye to your dorm neighbour, you step a foot outside. It’s still the middle of winter, and you definitely feel it as a cold wind doesn’t need much force to pass through your white blouse. The sky is starting to get dark, the lights of the campus would light up at any moment, and you just figure you should walk to the frat house quickly. Closing your coat in front of your chest, you take quick steps around the campus. It’s surprisingly quiet outside, the heels of your boots hitting the ground at your every step. For once, you actually wanted to go to that party, which was a first. After a full week of finals, you needed to relax a bit, and what was better than a party with your friends.

The lights flicker a moment, before lightening the ground and the grass around the few frat houses. From afar, you can see a few college students having an anti-party in front of the doors, their silhouettes visible every time the colourful lights cast on them. You can’t really make up the song until you’re a few meters away from the house, where one of the members greet you. See, you may not have a lot of friends like Johnny says, but he doesn’t see that he actually made you a bit more popular, at least more popular than you were in high school.

The smell of alcohol and weed take over your senses as you enter the house, squinting your eyes, trying to distinguish a few faces. You know the house pretty well now, making your way towards the living room, you have to stand on your toes to find Johnny. You can’t see if Jaehyun’s here, but you don’t think too much anyways and make your way towards the back of the room.

Sweaty bodies still affect you as much as they did when you first entered a party, holding your hands up to create something that imitates your comfort zone as you navigate between drunk students. Dodging hands and unsteady red cups, once you get to the other side of the dancefloor, you pass by a few other students as Johnny finally notices you.

“Y/N !” You hear his voice before even reaching him, having to abruptly stop as two girls run up the stairs. “Everyone, this is Y/N, she doesn’t have a lot of friends here.”

At this, you were supposed to roll your eyes and deny, like you’ve been doing for the past five parties or so, but once the path clears in front of you and you finally take in exactly who’s sitting next to your friend, you freeze.

“Fancy seeing you here.”, is the first thing he says. There, sitting next to your friend, in your friend’s frat house, in your university, is none other than Mark Lee. God knows you didn’t miss that smirk, and it didn’t change at all. His pink lips match the rose hue that colour his cheeks, probably because of the alcohol or the heat. Tugging upwards to hide half of his eyes, his pupils stay locked on your figure, a few dark brown locks falling in front of his eyes. You notice that he changed his hairstyle, parted in the middle, showing his glowy skin. He’s wearing a loose shirt, collarbones showing as one of his arm’s behind the couch, the other stretched on his leg as he holds a cup as well.

Reacting quite slowly, Johnny’s eyes move between you, still standing there, and his new medicine student friend.

“Oh, you know her ?”, he finally asks, stretching his hand out so you can take it. You hesitate for a moment, suddenly you really, really don’t want to be here. Even, why is he here? You forgot about him, in a few months only, you thought he was gone for good, doing god knows what in another city.

Johnny gives you a questioning look, and for a good reason. You’re here, looking at Mark like he’s an apparition, an apparition of your past, and him, he’s looking at you with a smile, way too proud of himself. You can’t run away, Johnny would probably drag you back, so you have to act normal, you figure. You didn’t know your mouth was slightly open before you close it to swallow your saliva, and you grab Johnny’s hand before he tugs you towards him.

“I think I’ve seen her around my high school a few times, I’m not quite sure.”, Mark responds, a smile still clear only his lips only for you to see as you let Johnny guide your body, forcing you on his lap. The audacity, he really dared to act like he hasn’t known you for almost all his life, a few sits away at every class. 

If Mark could take a picture of this very moment, he definitely would. The way your eyes look round and big like the first time he ever saw you and for once, it’s like you’re missing some words to finally respond, really this party started out great for him, he really didn’t regret coming.

A small laugh moves his chest, taking a moment to take in your figure, curious eyes scanning over you both and Johnny, the same glint he has dancing in his eyes since he was a child. He stays silent for a moment, he wonders for a moment if you’re the girl Johnny had been talking about for the past week and unconsciously, you get a bit more comfortable on his lap.

That’s how you figured out Mark Lee was still somehow in your school. And you should’ve thought about it, really. Mingtian is a well-known university, it’s as big as a small city, the scientific course is one of the best in the whole country. You should’ve known that he had applied here as well, but you can’t really blame yourself, can you? Even if you knew he also got accepted here, the chances to bump into him reminded so, so slim. The scientific department was at one end of the university, the art side a completely other end. But he had to be there, he had to know two of your closest friends, and he had to befriend them.

Your theory’s that he befriended them just to annoy you, and it worked.

Mark started hanging out with Johnny and Jaehyun even more, and of course, the two wanted you to tag along. You didn’t want to risk losing them just because of him so after a bit of argumentation and a lot, a lot of talking to yourself, you agreed.

At first, it was just some Saturday nights spent in either Johnny’s or Jaehyun’s dorm room, a random movie playing in the background and mostly university gossip about people you barely know filling the room. You have to say that you prefer those nights in Jaehyun’s room, Johnny has the habit to smoke a lot during the weekends, you always end up leaving the dorms with your clothes smelling like weed and having to justify yourself to everyone you encounter.

You also like Jaehyun’s room better because he can open his bed and make more place and two more really comfortable big cushions. Most of the time, you’re on the bed with either Jaehyun or Johnny, Mark standing as far away as possible.

At first, you had to say that you really thought you’d end up jumping at Mark’s throat after the first few hours, but strangely enough, he was civilized. Never did he mention your weird phases during middle-high school, never did he throw any major shade, making those nights a lot more enjoyable than you thought.

However, the competition still remains, even though you two are in two different fields. You like to think that art isn’t about learning every by heart but rather feeling and understanding, voicing your opinion with argumentation and that medicine is more about pushing everything in your head, just learning again and again. Mark doesn’t understand that, or rather he understands when he wants. He understands that your work might be a bit hard when he gets a grade lower than yours, he doesn’t when he gets a grade higher than yours, but never will he admit that.

Remember about the coffee shop? It quickly became your spot to study. Small and quiet, your friend worked there, which meant a lighthearted pause every now and then, their pastries also rapidly became a guilty pleasure. They were pricy, sure, but oh how you loved spending a bit of your money in one of their black chocolate éclair, or one of their cups of vanilla coffee.

However, Mark quickly heard about the shop. After all, his friend worked there so wouldn’t he come by a few times, when his oh so busy schedule allowed it. Sometimes, he sat near the window, never too close from him since again, the shop was small, sometimes he came right during Johnny’s pause and had to tag along and ended up on your table. One thing was sure, he never ever missed a chance to shove his newest grade in your face.

Strangely, seeing him became less and less weird. On your part, you became less tense around him, actually making small talk here and there for Johnny and Jaehyun’s biggest joy, but never did it erase the everlasting competition and the underlying hatred you two had for each other, it was just, hidden.

Johnny and Jaehyun were easily fooled, thinking that the initial weird tension between the two of you had slowly fated, they started making plans for what the called “friend dates.” The first one was planned by Johnny who found a cheap but rather interesting and promising restaurant near the university, and that’s how you ended up in this Italian restaurant.

A yawn escaped your lips before you could even hide it behind your hand, both your arms stretched above your hands as you leaded back on your chair. A small smiled was offered by Johnny while Jaehyun was going back from his phone placed on the small iron table to his position, arm behind his chair as he looked behind his back, scanning the area. 

You don’t really know if it was a restaurant or more a place with a lot of small restaurants, either way, it was really pretty, you had to admit. Slow European songs were playing, lights hanging everywhere, carpets with different designs everywhere. It smelled like pasta and pizza, as cliché as it sounds and most importantly, it was crowded. So crowded.

It took around ten minutes to find a four places table, and now that you were sitting down, on this Friday night, it took everything in your system to not fall asleep right here and now. Jaehyun was, on the other hand, too hyper. Looking everywhere, checking his phone every two minutes, he didn’t hesitate to throw a few insults here and there as Mark was getting more and more late.

“Where is he ?“, asked Johnny again, yet never losing his patience.

“I don’t know, he isn’t answering his phone and this kid NEVER leaves it.”, for a moment you wonder if he’s actually upset or if he’s exercising his acting skills, the pout on his lower lip more and more prominent.

“Wait a few minutes, I’ll go to his dorm if he doesn’t show up.” You and Jaehyun nod at this, only to be cut by heavy footsteps of someone running. Even with all the people and all the general noise, your attention gets caught by the few people complaining about someone pushing them without even giving a single apology.

Jet black hair comes bouncing at his every step, a not so apologetic smile contorting his features whenever his shoulder bumps into someone by mistake. You’ve never seen him this happy, his lips stretching up soon as he finally sees the three of you, his eyes disappearing for a moment. Before he reaches your table, you notice the paper he’s carefully holding in his hands, sometimes holding it to his chest or up in the air whenever someone might damage it.

Jaehyun, on the other hand, notices the phone his holding in his other hand, the one he didn’t care to check for the past ten minutes.

No matter how questioning your looks are, never did his smile fade, both his hands slapping the iron table as soon as he reached it.

“Finally, we were about to call the police and report a missing child.”, was the first thing the blonde found appropriate to say, even though it was well obvious the brunette has something important to say. Nevertheless, his smile never faded as he took a few seconds to catch his breath, his head hanging low for a moment.

“Mark, take a seat.”, Johnny finally spoke, gesturing to the seat right between the second music major and you.

Flopping without any grace on the grey chair, Mark finally sat down, his respiration a bit steadier, he flipped the white paper over.

“Guess who just got a one-week internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory ?”

An internship in the continent’s biggest laboratory. Jaehyun’s pout somehow disappeared after a few seconds just to congratulate the lucky boy, Johnny stayed true to himself and got excited as if he was the one who got the internship. You had to congratulate him, it would look weird right, if you didn’t congratulate your so-called friend, plus you didn’t want to bring the mood down just because of a bit of bitterness. You found yourself congratulating him almost naturally, if it wasn’t for the tight smile you gave him and the full one he returned, you really didn’t get the chance to see him a lot like this back in the days.

After the initial mixture of shock, joy and excitement came down, you finally all got up to get something to eat in this big place, finally settling down as Johnny decided to bring a toast to Mark with his sunset cocktail. 

For once, you weren’t really jealous, after all, you were well placed to know that Mark worked hard to get that internship, you were just a foot away when Johnny made him act his interview out at least once a week to make sure it was perfect. Finally, the tense smile left for a sincere one, who were you to hold grudges from years ago and spit on your friend’s, or almost friend’s, success.

At some point in the night, way too many cocktails were drowned and tested, with alcohol or without, at the end of the night the three boys were at least a bit tipsy, you were at least buzzed by their loud discussion and laughs. You know your teenage self would be screaming at you, but here’s the thing, you aren’t a teenager anymore, you’re a young adult, as they like to call you, and you want to behave like so.

Your hand finds Mark’s arm, catching his attention as you lightly tap the fabric of his shirt. The white button-up he was wearing for the interview was starting to get wrinkled, but he certainly didn’t care, his sleeves pushed up, the way he didn’t even fold them were making you slightly anxious.  

You almost laughed at the puzzled look he gave you for a moment, a smile stretched your lips as you finally spoke. “Congrats on the internship, Mark.”

One thing was sure, Mark had a lot of hope for this internship. After all, the fact that he worked there for a week looked good on his student’s dossier, but if they also added that he worked hard and well, that could be an important point for a future employer. Maybe he dreamed a bit too much, after all, he was on his first year but, if they saw that he worked hard and most importantly, was serious and had potential, maybe they would keep him in mind after he graduated.

Needless to say, Mark was putting a lot of hope in this. On his first day, he wore some formal clothes, something similar to the button-up he wore for the interview and he swore he couldn’t stop smiling when they gave him the white blouse and a little tag with “Mark Lee” written on it.

The laboratory was huge, even after a month he was sure he could get lost in it but luckily for him, someone took him under their wing. Doyoung had been working there for almost two years now, he made sure to make Mark visit everything the first day, would sit with him during lunch and introduce him to his friends. Doyoung knew what he was doing, he knew he was giving the brunette a chance to make contacts and perhaps play with them after he graduated. The men quickly grew fond of Mark, actually seeing a younger him in the boy.

On the first day, he didn’t get to do a lot, but it was good enough. After all, they made important things there, like drugs, and if he messed up, a lot of people would suffer from it. He knew he wouldn’t get to play with some experiments but watching was already a great experience for him.

After three days, Mark didn’t miss the opportunity to loudly enter the coffee shop pretty late in the afternoon, the only day his internship allowed him to get out early, not that he actually wanted to leave as soon as possible. For a good hour or two, he explained everything about the building, what they did and what he saw, no need to say that when he started talking about some experience they were doing for some new drug and what chemicals they were using, your art student self, the two music student didn’t quite catch everything. But being the good friends you three were, you would nod and listen anyways.

You have to say your interest got poked when he mentioned the closed room he didn’t visit yet, apparently, they kept small animals there to test drugs on them.

“Animal testing.”, you simply said, the tone in your voice enough to project your opinion on the subject.

“They’re actually trying to reduce animal testing until at some point, they’ll just stop doing it.”, Mark said, taking a sip of his black tea, the same he drank every time he stayed a bit at the coffee shop, glancing over at Jaehyun. The boy was big on cruelty-free products and even had one of Lush’s bags to prove it, one of his eyebrows raising, telling him to continue.

“Basically they’re testing on spiders right now, but as time goes by they’ll start testing on cells and human tissue.”, he said, almost too casually. What he didn’t say though, was that he asked about animal testing to Doyoung just to inform you and Jaehyun. Yes, he also was against animal testing but he knew the two of you were a lot, lot more passionate by the subject.  

“Wait, spiders ?”, you asked, after you finished your cup of chocolate. You didn’t even know testing on spiders were a thing, you knew about rat, mouse, and rabbit. Maybe you didn’t really hold spiders close to your heart but it didn’t mean you couldn’t feel bad for them, not now that you knew some weird drug were being tested on them just for humans.

“Yeah, the room I was talking about earlier, that’s where they keep them. Doyoung said he would show me tomorrow and I don’t know if I’m more excited or completely terrified to be in a room with like, thousands of different spiders.”

“Can you imagine if someone like, leaves the door open and all the spiders escape.”, that’s the only thing Johnny found appropriate to say, a noise of disgust coming from both you and Jaehyun and you were sure he felt the same shiver run down his spine as you looked at Johnny in horror, who didn’t seem fazed at all.

“Everything’s pretty secured there, not a single chance that a spider could escape his box, even less the whole fucking troupe guys.”

And oh, if he knew.

Mark liked to think that he was a rather cautious young man, for a lack of better words. He always looked both ways before crossing, he was always cautious when driving, he never got in any sticky situations, but really, he couldn’t know what was coming.

As he was standing in front of the white door, he waited like the good student he was for Doyoung. Now that he took the time to think about it, he could really see himself working here, some people already knew him, greeting him as they walked by. Deep down he was anticipating the last day, but he would cherish this week and all the opportunities he had the chance to have.

“Good afternoon Mark.”, Doyoung’s voice could be heard from the other end of the corridor, lightly singing the college student’s name. His pitch-black hair were a bit messy, which was particularly strange for the men who was always clean on his image.  The sleeves of his white blouse had been crunched up to his elbows, and only then did Mark remember that Doyoung had a reunion for a new drug right before.

A polite smile stretched the boy’s lips as he turned to face the one he considered his mentor now, putting his hand forward so he could shake his.

“Alright, the reunion’s not over yet so, I’m going to unlock the door for you because I trust you. But Mark, make sure to push the door when you leave and it’ll lock itself.”

Only then did Mark notice the way his eyebrows furrowed for a moment, he didn’t dare ask him to stay or even talk about his reunion, not with how quickly he whipped his card out of his pocket, scanning the back. His thumb quickly tapped in the code he seemed to remember by heart, before pushing the door and taking a step back.

“Or you l-“, started Mark, never getting the chance to finish his sentence.

“I have to go kiddo, be careful and don’t let them run away.”, as the only thing he said before walking away, throwing finger guns at the youngest before quickly walking back to the reunion. Really out of his usual state.

Alright, maybe that’s not how Mark imagined his day, after all, he never entered any room without anyone’s supervision, he doubted that Doyoung wasn’t breaking some rule by letting him, a young college student, in a room full of spiders with God knows what in their system. The boy even took a few seconds to rip his eyes away from the figure of the brunette quickly walking away, not quite realizing until the corridor went silent as his footsteps faded away.

Mark didn’t really want to stay in that room alone, he wanted someone to tell him about the species and they were used for, but now he was sure he would just look at them for a few minutes before walking away. When finally, he dared looking at the unlocked door, he at least had to say that it was quite intriguing, from afar. The blue hue coming from the slightly opened door had the power to spike his curiosity, what sounded like a powerful AC helping the room to stay rather fresh.

After all, if it was opened, he could at least give it a look, right? Shrugging his shoulders to himself, his hand easily pushed the wooden door, revelling the squarish room to the college student. Surprisingly, the room wasn’t too blue, he could at least see in front of him, make out the numerous cages, vivarium for the spiders. At first, he didn’t see them. His head to the side, Mark took the first step in, being careful not to close the door behind him, afraid he would lock himself in. Against each wall, he could count three lines of four vivariums, all the same size. They all looked quite the same, some sand or some dirt, some plants and a branch.

Nothing out of the ordinary, really.

His attention first got caught by the way the light danced on his skin, how his rings would catch the blue neon. The room was fairly silent, aside from the vibrating sound of the AC, he took a few footsteps, getting in the middle of the room. At first, it looked like all the vivariums were empty, only when he walked a bit more did he notice some movement.

Keeping his hands behind his back, Mark got curious for a moment. Behind one large wooden branch, at first, he didn’t see anything before a black spider’s legs finally made its way on the piece of tree. The college student didn’t really flinch, he never had a fear for spiders so he didn’t even need to be afraid when they were safely locked in these boxes.

When finally, the spider showed itself, not paying any attention to the men in front of its house, Mark had to say that at least, he never saw any spider that looked like that. Pitch black, he was sure the spider wasn’t noticeable in the dark, making it even more dangerous. Long, skinny legs, a red dot was in the middle of its small body.

Looking for anything with a bit of information, Mark searched around the box, nothing really showed the name of the spider of its species, maybe they stored the documents on top of the boxes, he wondered for a moment. He was tall enough to reach the top of the vivariums, but he couldn’t quite see it. Getting a bit closer to the box, he made sure to not leave any fingerprints on the glass before getting on his toes, his hand flat on the top.

Mark could make the opening of the vivarium, making sure to avoid it, he searched for a few seconds more but never did his hand bump into any paper. His hand did bump into something, but he didn’t know what, not paying much attention before passing his hand one last time. He didn’t hide his deception when he couldn’t find anything, his eyes getting lost for a moment in the vivarium in front of him. On his toes, he could see almost everything in the box, but strangely, he didn’t see any spider.

Looking for a moment from side to side, he could see the other spiders, every one different from the other. One finally got his attention, yellowish body, but before he could even look at the insect a bit more, a small gasp escaped his lips. Immediately taking his hand away, Mark tumbled backwards, almost bumping into the stacks of vivarium behind him. Confused look contorted his features as he took a moment to realize. His hand probably touched a loose piece of metal, his skin probably getting hurt on the sharp object, right? Under the blue light, his blood looked almost black, the two dots so noticeable on the skin of his palm.

Two dots, two dots. The skin around the two holes seemed to burn, his hand growing numb. His eyes widen in realization, they didn’t miss the small black object moving on the floor, looking a bit lost. Mark almost lifted his feet to crush the animal, now that he was looking at it a bit more, it wasn’t black, but brown. He must’ve bitten him and was still on his hand when he backed away, the fall was probably really disorientating for the spider.

Mark couldn’t believe his eyes, one of the spiders had escaped. A curse escaped his lips, his hand flat on the wound, making sure to not leave any trace of blood on the floor. For a quick second, he didn’t really know what to do, his heart was still calming down from the pain of the bite, his mind not quite cooperating after realizing he had one of these spiders in front of him.

He had to think quickly, and leave as quickly. His valid hand took a tissue from his back pocket, one he always carried with him. Not thinking twice, he threw the fabric on the spider before it could run away again, and before it could escape the dark prison, Mark quickly picked it up, almost running to the vivarium.

The college student’s eyes couldn’t leave his dorm’s selling, the index of his left hand tracing the homemade bandage he had for his wound. After what happened, Mark quickly ran to the bathroom, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he risked, after all, he didn’t let the spider escape, it escaped on its own, but he didn’t want to put Doyoung in trouble for letting him, a young college student, all alone in such a place.

Maybe it was too late and maybe it was unnecessary but he bought his lips to his mound anyway, sucking to blood before spitting, he saw that in a documentary once. He wasn’t even sure if the spider was dangerous, sure he was a bit lightheaded from the chock but his body didn’t seem to react.

He didn’t want anyone to know what happened in that room, he didn’t want it to be heard, so he acted like nothing happened. He made sure to close the door behind him and even stayed a bit more before finally going back to his dorm.

Everything was normal, really, at least he tried to convince himself. He quickly walked back to his dorm, made some food, slipped into his more comfortable clothes. He had been eating pasta for the past week and decided to switch it up for some ramen that night, picking his grey sweatpants and a random hoodie before getting under his blanket, tomorrow was his day off and he could treat himself to some Netflix and fall asleep as late as he wanted as long as it wasn’t after the break of dawn.

Really, everything was normal, he almost forgot about the bite, if it wasn’t for exactly three episodes into Umbrella Academy, around one in the morning. Mark’s wound started itching, at first he didn’t pay much attention, he didn’t want to. But the more he ignored it, the more he felt like the wound was burning, more than it did when the spider bit him.

Lightly, his fingernails scratched the bandage, he didn’t want to hurt himself even more but the itching was so annoying and loud that he unconsciously clenched his jaw, the bone enlightens by his laptop screen. He had to say, he might have panicked a bit when his heart started beating loudly in his ribcage, his ears growing hot, he couldn’t even hear the soft dialogue of his episode.

The more time passed, the more his focus on his screen faded, he couldn’t even pay attention to what was happening as he tried to control his breathing. Under his sweatshirt, his chest was moving up and down irregularly, was he having a panic attack? It never happened to him, but somehow he knew it wasn’t that, it was something else. Cold sweat appeared on his hairline, and that’s when he really started panicking.

Moving his laptop to the side, the screen almost hit the wall of his dorm room, moving his blanket away to completely expose his body to the cold air of the night but it didn’t even change anything. His feet on the floor didn’t even help to regulate his body temperature, neither did the half bottle of water he drowned in seconds.          

Something was wrong, but never did Mark felt like giving in the panic. His hand quickly found his phone lost in his huge blanket, activating his flashlight, he was quick to raise on his feet, putting aside the way he felt lightheaded and almost dizzy at how quickly he got up.

He didn’t even know if he had the right to walk outside of his room at this hour, to be frank he didn’t really read the rules of his dorm but he needed to go to the bathroom anyway, he needed to splash some water on his face and stop this panic.

The whole process to go to the building’s bathroom was a blur, thankfully he didn’t come across anything and he quickly got a hold of the faucet, letting the water run for a moment. His eyes took a moment to get familiar to the white artificial light of the room, the white walls not making anything to help.

Strangely, he didn’t look weird, nothing was strange about his face, about his appearance. Yes, he looked a bit panicked, a bit sweaty but he didn’t get any allergic reaction so why did he feel so…weird, so bad? He starred at his figure for a moment. He had to stop giving in to the panic, he had to think rationally, maybe he ate something bad, maybe the ramens weren’t good anymore, maybe he needed sleep. After all, he had a few rough and full days, maybe staying up late wasn’t a good idea. Yes, it was probably something like that.

Bringing his hands under the water running down, he looked at it for a moment. Breathe in, breathe out, before he brought his hands to his face. The cold water sure helped calming his features, his jaw relaxing, it helped cool his temperature.

A sigh left his lips, his shoulders relaxing as he shook his hands, he needed to calm down. His attention got caught once again by the white, homemade bandage, thinking for a few seconds. With the water, the sticky fabric started lifting up from his skin. He just wanted to check, see if it had gotten worse, so the sleepy college student quickly took the bandage off, he could make a new one if he needed to. For a second, he really thought he was sleepy, for a moment.

The wounds were gone.

[6:39 PM] Jaehyun: Hey dumbass, you’re almost 40 minutes late, where are you?

Mark doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even know where his phone is. The vibrations make it sound like his phone’s everywhere at the same time, he almost feels them in his spine, both his hands closing around his ears.

[6:55 PM] Jaehyun: We’ll wait five minutes, not a minute more so you better get your ass here quickly.

The college student desperately tries to understand where he is for a moment, he just woke up in a cold sweat yet again, but he doesn’t even remember falling asleep. His mind is still fogged by sleep, or rather the lack of it. Strangely, the floor’s clean, weirdly clean.

[7:05 PM] Jaehyun: Hey, are you ok?

He doesn’t even know himself.

It’s been a few days since the bite, but he didn’t really keep track since his internship ended. Since he left the laboratory, he didn’t feel like himself anymore. Truth be told, when the wounds disappeared, he just brushed it off, maybe he bled a little and the wounds were too small for him to see and he didn’t want to become paranoid over such a small incident. But he couldn’t deny the fact that he felt, different. Waking up in a cold sweat became too familiar, he would run to the bathroom and had to change his clothes at least once every night. He quickly ran out of clothes to wear, forcing him to do his laundry multiple times a week.

He didn’t know if nightmares would wake him up, he didn’t remember his dreams, it felt like he didn’t dream at all and just woke up tangled in his sheets, in a pool of his sweat, completely disoriented every time. At first, he thought he was sick, but he didn’t have any fever despite the weird feeling of being slightly out of your body and seeing things your mind creates to trick you.

As the days went by, his muscles felt more and more sore. It started with his arms, at first he thought it was because he forgot to stretch after his sport session, but arms day was last week. It spread to his shoulders, tense and back arched, he only felt at ease when he was resting, laying. Quickly, his legs didn’t resist, and yesterday he couldn’t even study for more than an hour before he felt like all his resources left his body.

He fell asleep on his desk so quickly, all the will in his body couldn’t even keep him awake for more than a few minutes. Once again, dreamless night, he woke up in the dead of the night, cold sweat collecting on his forehead. Really, these past days only left the shadow of who Mark once was. He barely ate, slept a lot, didn’t get any work done. Even when he slept, he barely got any peace or any energy, he barely felt less sleepy.

All of this, all of this was strange and unusual for him. Mark Lee has always been an energic kid, an energetic men. Never did he ever felt so tired, so out of everything. Mark rather was the type to work even more after school, he had a lot of energy and everyone knew about it, from his parents to his teachers. At first, he tried to stay calm and find some rational reason. After all, he just started college and it was pretty stressed, he had to admit even if he didn’t like to give in to stress, he just finished a week-long internship where he had a few missions, so really, it must be that. It could be it but this, this right now, was not normal at all.

When finally, the sleep started fading away, small eyes taking the fading sunlight in, only then did Mark found that he was a bit more alive. For once in a few days, his body didn’t feel sore, he could stretch a bit and his muscles wouldn’t scream at him. He could fully breathe in, take a deep breath in and look out the window. It was still pretty early but the sun was weirdly down… His eyes narrowed for a moment as a yawn escaped his lips, one of his hands rubbing his eyes. His head tilted to the side, was the building in front of him…upside down?

He almost laughed, before looking up. That’s when a scream escaped his lips, completely uncontrolled, panicked wide eyes took in his room, just like he left it but upside down. He almost pinched himself, what type of dream was that, he looked again at his room before his eyes focused on his feet.

He was on his ceiling.

And as soon as he realized, taking in his ceiling and the way the sunshine filtered through his blinds from way too close, he fell down. The loud sound echoed in his room, alongside his whine as he rolled on his side, the college student didn’t know but his carpet and thick blanket he left on the floor managed to absorb a bit of the pain. Whines escaped his lips for a few more seconds as his hands pressed on his arms, he was sure to have bruises there and on his sides, staying there for a few moments.

“What the fuck.”, what the fuck just happened, what the fuck was that? He was on his ceiling, just moments before, he was up there. He didn’t imagine it, it wasn’t a dream, he saw the way the building in front of him was upside down, he saw his bedroom from up there. He couldn’t explain it but he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, he had bruises to prove it, the way he fell in the middle of his room and how bad his arm ached told him he didn’t simply fell from his bed.

“Hey, Mark. Are you ok ?”, a voice came from the door, he couldn’t mistake the voice of Johnny. He certainly wanted to check up on him, heard his body falling from a few meters, or his whines, and wanted to check. The room fell silent for a minute, Mark needing time to register the situation and find how he would respond. He knocked a few times on the thin wooden door, as thin as the walls clearly, and the young men called for his friend again.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, don’t worry !”, he, himself, wasn’t convinced at all. His voice was somehow still sleepy, shaking slightly. He managed to get up on his elbows, having trouble to even flip on his stomach to face the door.

“Do you need help ?”, asked Johnny, sounding worried. Clearly, he didn’t believe what Mark said in the slightest. The thing is, after months of friendship, Mark had a key to Johnny’s room and Jaehyun’s room, which ultimately meant that Johnny probably had a key to Mark’s room as they were speaking. Whatever was happening right now, whatever was going on with him, his body or his mind, Mark didn’t want anyone to see it. Both ashamed and scared, him, the well put together from the group, didn’t even want his close friends to see his bruised and tired, sleepy body down on the floor for some reason, he didn’t want anyone to see the bags under his eyes and the way they were big with a mixture of both fear and shock. He was scared, scared of what was going on, he didn’t want to talk about it to anyone before he, himself, figured it out.

“No, no don’t worry. I’m just tired and…I need sleep.”, was the only thing he managed to get out, his legs kicking his blanket away without any successful result. At his voice, he was sure his friend could tell something was going on inside that room.

“Mark, don’t lie to me.”, the music major said, sounding a bit disappointed. After all, he was his friend and he couldn’t bear having him lying so blatantly and skipping a friend date without a reason. Before he could even respond, Mark heard the distinct noise of a key sliding in his bedroom’s door, understanding quickly that he wasn’t planning on letting him get away so easily.

Without even understanding, his right hand lifted up. It was just a reflex, he didn’t think it would stop his friend from entering his room, it was just a vain attempt but as soon as his hand lifted, guided towards the door, a white string shot out quicker than he could understand. If his eyes weren’t already wide, they were probably about to pop out. Right in front of his eyes, a white, thick spider web-linked the door to the wall, keeping it from opening. Mouth agape, Mark watched almost horrified as his friend tried to open the door but kept struggling to push it, not knowing what was the problem.

“What the fuck.”

See, Mark Lee is a smart boy. From day one, he used to get those star stickers in kindergarten, he would get high grades in junior high school, always staying at the top of his class and unlike his classmates, his grades didn’t crash once in high school. Somehow, he managed to keep his grades impressively high while keeping a social life. Maybe he had to work a bit more at the start of college but after all, it was superior studies, he had to work. He was also a smart boy outside of studies, so really, when he couldn’t understand what was wrong with him, he couldn’t help but feel extremely frustrated.

For a good hour after Johnny left, slightly hurt and even more worried, the college student spent a good part of the beginning of the night trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with him. He pinched himself a few times, he tried to wake up but deep down he knew he was already awake, from the moment he saw the sun upside down. He knew he was awake, yet he couldn’t believe his eyes.

When his body finally allowed it, he raised to his feet, checking his body. Nothing. Not a bruise, not even a red-ish area, it was like nothing happened yet again. Maybe then, he would’ve given in to the idea that he was hallucinating, if only he didn’t have the huge spider web in front of his eyes to prove that something was going on.   Hesitant fingers traced the spider web. It came from his hand, or his fingers, he didn’t know, but he put two and two together.

Believe himself or believe science and all he learned so far. If he believed what his teachers, what everyone told him for those past twenty years, he feared he might go crazy. Nothing, no book, no specialist, nothing and no one could explain what was going on with his body. If he believed himself, he took the risk to be seen as a crazy person, a freak, a delusional. But after all, he saw what he could do with his body now, great things, but scary things. If he believed himself, he had to understand by himself, and that’s what he chose.

When finally, after a long night of sleep which was surprisingly helpful, he finally texted you, Johnny and Jaehyun to reassure the three of you, he finally decided to understand things by himself, he almost lost all reason. See, Mark never really skipped class without a good reason. He was the type to skip maybe once or twice a year, only when he was really sick or had some family emergency, that week, he skipped all his classes. Of course, he made sure to tell his teachers, talking about some cold he got after the internship that ultimately resulted in him being stuck to his bed, he managed to someone build a good enough relationship between most his teachers that they all excused him for the week.

Mark wasn’t really happy about it, he didn’t like skipping class, he knew that at the end of it all he would’ve had stacks of documents and papers and classes to learn, but if what he saw was real, if what he did wasn’t the result of sleepless nights, paranoia and stress, then he couldn’t go out before he understood everything.

Feeding himself with junk food and leftovers, his workout routine was thrown out the window. He didn’t know how, he just knew it had to do with the spider bite, obviously. But he googled, and even read articles about that specific spider that bite him and it was essentially harmless. Yes, maybe it was a bit itchy and would hurt for the first few minutes but after reading all the articles about it from the first three pages of google, Mark could confidently say that a bite from this spider wouldn’t result in hallucinations, fever, cold sweat, anything he experienced. One box was checked.

He thought about going back to the laboratory, but without the pass they took from him on the last day, it was impossible, he just had to deal with that alone for the moment. He then, after hours of researches on spiders, remembered the bite and bruises. His body and skin were undamaged. He knew, it was just logical for him to have at least a bruise on the arm and side he fell, yet nothing was there. He could touch, press, pinch, he felt nothing, ending up with him crossing another box. Maybe it was the hours of researches, the hours of torturing his mind and turning his brain just to understand what was wrong with him, but somewhere in the night between the first and second day, he decided he would check one of his theories.

His scientific mind told him it was impossible, he would probably end up in the hospital or seriously injured, but after all, his scientific mind wasn’t much help these past few days so he decided to push the thought to the side. Just a knife would be enough, a small cut on his finger he could pass as a simple domestic incident if someone asked about it. Somewhere in the night, in the middle of the campus, Mark sat exactly where he fell. Everything was silent, everyone was pretty much about to fall asleep or studying as he could see all the lights slowly going off one by one room, in the building in front of him. The cold breeze coming from his window faded the sweat collecting on his skin away as he stared a moment at the knife. He was probably going crazy, but he needed to do it, these thoughts kept coming and coming as he took a look around him, papers around his body where he noted all his experiences.

He didn’t think twice, he had to look up as he quickly brushed the cutting knife on the skin of his finger. At least, it wasn’t as bad as a paper cut, the pain wasn’t so bad, perhaps a little hiss escaped his lips as he added a band-aid, but he could deal with it. Quickly, the blood could be seen through the cotton, at least he knows he was really hurt, had a real wound. With his second hand, he grabbed his phone, almost dying, with one swift motion he opened the camera, not paying attention to the message he got. Yes, it was weird, but Mark was ultimately just working on an experiment, and he needed proof and documents to work on. If tomorrow morning, his wound was still there, he would probably put himself in a hospital.

The sigh that left his lips was loud and clear, letting his back hit his bed, only then did he look a bit more at his phone. He had a few messages from the group chat both the one with a few of his classmates and the other with you, Jaehyun and Johnny. But he also had a private one from none other than you.

[10:23 PM] Y/N: Hey, how are you feeling?

Mark started at the screen for a moment. The men was slightly delusional, Mark was the type of person who thought no one really cared about him, or just because of manners. Sure, you, Jaehyun and Johnny expressed some concerns in the group chat which he quickly brushed off but he didn’t know you cared enough to text him privately. Weirdly, it kind of makes him feel good, like he wasn’t really alone. Only when the blue bubbles appeared on the screen, disappeared again, before popping up again did he understand that you were typing and erasing, just like he was doing.

[10:25 PM] Mark: Hey, I’m feeling the same to be honest.

And just as he sent the text, you sent one too, a small smile stretching his lips at the message.

[10:25 PM] Y/N: I made some soup today, want some ?

The thing is, you two never saw each other one on one, at least not in the past ten years. Yes, you two got a bit closer, and a lot more civilized since high school but so much more is happening right now, as Mark started yet again at the screen, not knowing what to answer.

You, on the other side, the building just in front of Mark’s dorm, stare at your screen just like he is doing at that exact moment. You can’t really believe yourself but, you do worry about him. You’re kind of obligated to, too, especially when both Jaehyun and Johnny seem pretty worried about the young college student.

See, you’ve also known the men all your life, so when you heard he would be missing for one of your friend dates and that Johnny heard something, someone falling down in his dorm room, you were sure it was the satanic ritual to keep both popularity and good grades. You weren’t too worried at first, since you had to skip a friend date but when you heard the was skipping a whole, and an entire week of school, you couldn’t help but be surprised.

You remember back in high school when he skipped two days in a row and how happy you felt to finally have a few days to breathe, but now, now that you two are somehow between friends and ex-enemies, you really can’t help but wonder. To add to everything, you didn’t tell Johnny or Jaehyun, but from your room, you had a small view on Mark’s window. Sure, you didn’t see anything, but you saw how his light was always on, it seemed like he wasn’t sleeping, you remember seeing his lights on when you were about to go to sleep and at four in the morning when you needed to go to the bathroom. Even at six in the morning, when you just woke up, his lights were still on.

Perhaps you and Mark didn’t get that along for most of your lives, but you knew he was the type to keep to himself, to not tell anyone what he going through, and again, the fact that he skipped an entire week, refused to see Johnny and seemed to not sleep at all only added to your sense of worry.

That day, you decided to make some soup, both for you who got a cold after your friend date, but also for Mark. Usually, you made food for you only, you rarely had leftovers, but even if your teenager self was screaming at you for the gesture, you had to get used to the idea that you and Mark were friends, and friends look out for each other. It was both an attempt to clarify that you didn’t really hold any grudges against him after all, but also in hopes of making him feel better that you added the Thai soup to a bowl, wrapping it in some transparent paper, you had left.

Isn’t it funny how things change quickly? A few months ago, you thought Mark was long gone from your life, and now you’re almost worried and bringing him soup to his dorm. It’s weird how you also feel anxious, years of hating Mark Lee’s guts would’ve suppressed any feeling for him and yet, here you are frantically tapping your fingers on the hot bowl. Is it too much, too soon? He could’ve denied though, are is it too polite to do so?

Can a few months really change your relationship? Won’t it be weird? You don’t even have the time to think much about all these questions before he opens the door, or at least tries to. You don’t know it but, on the other side, the young men is struggling to rip the thick spider web off, letting a breathy “W-wait, just give me a second” escape from his dry lips.

The young men knew your dorm was ridiculously close, actually he could see your window from his, not that he checked it to make sure you got home or anything, but he didn’t think you’d come so quickly.

The weird and new feeling of goosebumps rising on the back of his neck somehow told him you were close, he had to quickly kick his blanket on his bed, find a way to hide the too many boxes of noodles he had laying around and at least, at the very least, make it look like he was working. Only then did he have the time to give his attention to the web, going back and forth in his bedroom before he found a pair of scissors, hiding both the white thing and tool in a drawer.

Mark hoped he at least looked presentable.

“Mark Lee? Lee Mark ? Mark and you ?”, Yerim asks over the phone, making you roll over on your stomach. You suddenly regret even telling your old high school about last night, the way she pronounces Mark’s name and yours in the same sentence telling enough about how she’s feeling. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”, you whine on your end of the phone, hiding your face in your soft pillow. Really, you needed to tell someone about the night before and both Johnny and Jaehyun were crossed from your list. They didn’t even know that Mark actually knew you quite well back in the days, let alone that the two of you despited each other.

Yerim was the third-best option, she knew the history between you and Mark, was free and wasn’t sick of hearing you complain like many of your friends. 

“It is a big deal ?”, she started, her tone almost questioning your point of view. “You’ve been hating his guts for years, Y/N. And you’ve been telling me all about it for years too.” 

A deep sigh left your lips, really you didn’t know how to respond. The blonde was right, though. It kind of was a big deal, but you didn’t want to blow such a thing out of proportion. Your fingers ticked at a loose thread coming out of your blanket, a pout forming on your lips. “I knooow.” 

Ah, what was Mark Lee doing to you? The night before, when he opened the door and looked like he had run the marathon to clean his bedroom, you couldn’t help but laugh at him, his tense shoulders dropping down as soon as he heard the sound. 

You had spent the extremely short walk to his dorm wondering if being alone with him wouldn’t be weird and thankfully, it hadn’t been, at any point of the night. You wonder if him being sick and probably a bit feverish by the look on his face didn’t make the whole thing easier, after all, who wants to act though and actively keep grudges when sick? 

Your initial plan was to drop the soup, ask how he was doing and bolt out, make the experience short to avoid any chances of it getting ugly, but Mark had insisted for you to at the very least take a seat and tell him about the friend date he missed. The way he asked wasn’t forced, it wasn’t just something to be polite, and after all, Mark hadn’t seen anyone in quite a while now. The young man was the extrovert, he fed off social interactions, maybe that’s why he felt a bit happy to see you. Being sleep deprived does things to you, he figured. 

The five minutes trip you had planned turned into two hours, Mark was eating his soup on his bed, not wanting you to sit on it because it was “A bed of batteries”, while you sat on his desk chair, making it turn around occasionally as you told him about Johnny’s scream when he thought he lost his camera, Jaehyun’s failed attempt at dinner the other day. 

“And then ?”, asked Yerim, her mouth full of the cupcake she was chewing on. 

“Then? I got back to my dorm.”, you said like it was obvious and didn’t know why she was asking. On the other end, you could clearly hear her disappointment, yet another sigh leaving her lips. 

“Boring.”, she sang, your eyes rolled yet another time before she brushed her words off as a joke. “So, after all these years, are y’all friends ?”, she asked. 

Your head tilted to the side, from your spot, you could see his bedroom window, the light suddenly turning on in the small square as the night started settling in. 

“I guess we are friends now.” 

“Spring is here, read all about your campus’ events to celebrate !”, the headline reads as Mark scrolls down Mingtian’s website, remembering him how weeks had passed since the incident in the lab.

Crazy how your life can change so quickly, so drastically. Mark didn’t really have the time to look back, or maybe he feared doing it. Either way, his life wasn’t the same. A few days after you brought him some soup was all he needed to get back on his feet and get his thoughts together. Long gone was the shadow of himself he’d seen in the black screen of his laptop when another episode loaded on Netflix. 

Firstly, it didn’t take long for him to figure out that this never happened to anyone, anything like this, for the matter. Mark had dreams, a lot, and one of them was for him to discover something that would break science, find something no one ever laid eyes on before him, and he had it, it was him.  Sure, he didn’t expect such a thing to actually happen, nor happen so early on, but he could work with it, as terrifying as it was. 

Second, he figured that thing wasn’t doing anything too harmful to his body. A battery of tests and his doctor told him he was completely healthy without a doubt. So, he was here, actually healing faster when he got hurt, bruises and cuts disappearing in a day or two, hours if it was small. He could apparently walk on walls, but he didn’t really try again after that night he was stuck on his celling, and had something with spider webs that he would keep and test whenever he had the time. 

And that’s how, on third, he started thinking about helping people with his powers. (Mark actually didn’t want to use this word before a few days ago, but he had to face it, it was the definition of superpowers.) See, the thing is, superheroes weren’t unknown, they just didn’t happen in his city, did Mark Lee really have the pretention to be the first one here? 

After years of reading comics, going wide-eyed in front of the news channels, he knew that he’d have a lot on his shoulders. 

A lot of back and forth, could he rely on his powers? What was he really capable of? He didn’t know. For weeks, he locked himself in, he feared testing everything on the outside world until one night, he did it. 

Winter was still present in the air, but the early spring prevented the wind from biting the young man’s skin. The hoodie he was wearing close to his body, he kept his head low as he walked on campus, hands in his pocket. 

In the dead of the night, the streets were empty, only a few people had given up on classes at the time, making them the only people out at this hour, mostly drunk. As lights were going out one by one behind every window, Mark made his way further into the campus, until he reached a place far from only anyone at that time, the vacant stadium. 

“The campus’ superhero! All we know for now.”

Mark almost missed it, if the word “superhero wasn’t in bold, red letters. 

Without missing a beat, the student’s finger tapped on his screen, turning his brightness to the lowest setting. In the background, your conversation with Jaehyun only became a blur as Mark’s ears seemed to ring, his skin burning a bright red as he found hard to focus on such simple words.

The article was short, blurry and dark pictures didn’t even come close to being dangerous for his privacy, and clearly, they didn’t have a lot of information on him. The article clearly was written in the heat of the moment, little proof meaning little people would believe it right away, nothing was clear and set. Speculations on his age, his major. 

Apparently, someone had seen him on his last night out, the anonymous witness talked about seeing him shot something he couldn’t identify, seeing him climbing a wall before he lost him. 

Many comments weren’t taking the whole thing seriously, yet. It made Mark feel a lot, lot better to know that maybe, just maybe, he had a bit more time left to get ready himself before getting forced to show himself to the world. Vine references about how he was on “XGames mode”, and other memes managed to relax him a bit, before he tumbled upon other comments. 

Some didn’t believe yet, some made assumptions already, those got to Mark Lee. If it was real, he needed to be tested, some said, they needed to find him. The city’s own hero, what a task, he wouldn’t and couldn’t stay hidden too long. They went on, and on, never getting tired of their theories. 

“Oh my god.”, Mark whispers, his finger stuck on the screen, refusing to exit the app. 

“What did you say ?”, Jaehyun asked, chewing on his gum, his attention switching from you to Mark. Only Johnny was missing, his pause starting soon, you three were seated at your usual table in the café. The sun would set a bit later than usual, the golden light filtering through the large windows, the café emptying as it usually was busy early in the day. 

Mark looked up, eyebrows shot up to hide under his dark locks, his eyes moving back and forth from yours to Jaehyun’s, amusement from his sudden reaction clear on the other men’s eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I- eh…I just blacked out for a moment.”, Mark finally managed to let out, locking his phone before leaving it on the table, people started talking about the new phenomena way too soon, he didn’t expect this big of exposure without even having everything figured out himself. 

Oh, the superhero life didn’t suit him that well. 

“You’ve been doing it pretty often these days, did you get some rest ?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side. Bringing your cup of tea to your tinted lips, you took a sip, almost chuckling against it as he got lost in his thoughts again, but this time, you were in the centre. 

Maybe it was the lack of sleep due to coming finals, mixed with the slight shock he still had lingering around and the colour of lipstick you chose to wear today, but he took a bit too long to detach his eyes from the nude stain of the white object. Maybe it was the guilt from not telling any of his closest friends, the guilt he had because as time when by, he felt himself drifting away. 

“Yah, this kid is always dreaming”, Johnny’s loud voice and his hand ruffling his dark lock finished to bring him back to reality, a smile softening his features. The tallest took a seat next to him, making the new superhero look small in comparison. He couldn’t help but notice as he thanked Johnny for the cup of coffee, did he have the shoulders to do it? He wasn’t buff, he wasn’t extremely tall, he wasn’t the one to actively go to the gym, he had a few muscles from dancing and sports but so many guys religiously went to the gym for more, and more. 

“What are you dreaming about ?”, teasingly asked Jaehyun, to wish Mark decided to ignore at first. His cup of coffee was brought to his lips, his eyes stuck on the beige table, he vaguely listened to the conversation, trying to keep himself in, the conversation going back and forth until you giggled at something Johnny said. 

“I’m sure he is, I’m sure he’s daydreaming about this superboy.” 

Mark shocked on his coffee. 

Mark smirks, maybe he does, maybe he does have the shoulders to be the superhero they want him to be. 

But if he doesn’t ? He doesn’t care. 

That’s what he needed to figure out, that’s what has been blocking him for days after the article. Expectations from people he didn’t know, people that didn’t know him. He didn’t have anything to prove, and if he had something, it was something he had to prove to himself. 

His head tilts to the side, the skin-tight black hood only showing his eyes keeping his earbuds from falling. In his ears, the music at a low level only accompanies the street’s noise. Cars drive by, never noticing the shadow lurking at the top of a building, their wheels crush the small bits of wet pavement, a few passerby walk with their heads low towards their phone.  

Everyone looks small underneath him, he blended with the buildings, invisible but all-seeing. After rain’s fragrance tickle his senses despite the thick fabric covering his face, his upper body hangs off the wall, even like this, he’s so high no one see him.

He doesn’t fear falling, he’s confident in himself. After weeks of practice, he knows what he’s capable of. 

After a moment of observing the street’s movement, Mark decides to turn around. His back on the end of the wall, his shoulders, arms and head hanging off. He takes a breath, arms spread, eyes on the sky. It’s getting darker, he notices, the dark blue turning black as minutes go by, stars flickering in and out of his view. 

He’s excited more than afraid, the night sky going black his signal to get up and finally give it a try. His shoes kick a few rocks as he gets up, not even taking a second to brush the dust out of his hoodie. 

He’s on one of the tallest buildings, people are working underneath him, the lights never going off. Another tall building in front of him, the bank. It doesn’t have as many windows as the one he’s towering on, the pale granite looking almost grey under the artificial lights.

That’s the one he had his eyes on, taller from a few meters, he couldn’t make out the roof of the building, but that’s what he wanted. Mark’s eyes didn’t leave the end of the wall of the building, slowly taking steps further and further away. He needed to gain momentum, the steps at a rhythm, forcing his breathing at the same tempo. When the young man’s back finally touched the wall, he knew he had to do it quickly.

Quickly before he lost all confidence.

And so, he did.

Workers underneath him probably wondered what or who was walking, or rather, running on their rooftop. Running as fast, as hard as possible, he didn’t let his mind register what was happening as his right foot landed on the wall he was resting minutes before, one leg pushed his body off the building, and before his mind could understand that he was in the air without protection, he shots.

In milliseconds, the white string easily attaches itself to the wall of the bank, almost invisible yet so strong. Quickly, both his hands gripped the spider web, if he had enough force, he could do it. His arms pulled, as hard as he could, and for a split second, he swore he touched the sky.

He touched the sky, and before he could realise it, he was on the second building’s rooftop.

His back is the first one to hit the rooftop, hard and small rocks digging into his skin. It might hurt now, but everything will go fairly quickly. Furthermore, that’s not what Mark is focused on.  His body rolls for a few meters before he manages to stop himself with his hand and foot, thinking that he should probably wear gloves next time. 

Heart beating against his ribcage, he stays like this for a moment, face inches from the floor, hand firmly on the surface like he fears falling. He did it, he was on the other building. Slowly, the college student gets up, he feels even taller now, the rooftop he was standing on seconds before under him, he really did it. 

He could do anything. 

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he looked down at the string he shot waving in the air, deciding he’s let it like this, a trace of where his night started. 

After this, Mark was unstoppable, long gone were his fears, the city was his. 

Restaurants, cafes, streets he only knew during the day looked so much more interesting from his point of view, high and proud. When his attention isn’t on the streets, mindlessly trying to find something interesting, his attention was on the skyline, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, he was getting comfortable. 

The young student stopped fearing the jump, he didn’t hesitate anymore, his reception getting cleaner, his footsteps soundless.  He could do this all Friday night, he felt a new type of freedom, something he couldn’t quite describe as he shot yet another string, the night wind puffing his sweatshirt, licking away the sweat forming on his stomach.

He could’ve stayed there all night long, if he hadn’t been stopped dead in his tracks between two smaller buildings as he was risking his way back to the campus. 

The loud sound of a door metal door stopped him at first, his shoes landed on the convenience store’s rooftop.  Although it was indeed Friday night, and most parties were still going on at this hour, he hadn’t come across any fights, at least nothing this loud. 

Before he could get a good view on the scene, he had to crouch down, on hand on the triangle-shaped roof as he tried his best to stay invisible despite the large neon sign a few meters behind him.

And that’s when he almost fell down. 

In the dark, small street was you. Clearly angry and possibly confused, Mark could see a man that definitely was not Johnny or Jaehyun standing a few meters away from you, keeping you from walking away.    Mark understood right away, but he didn’t expect any action so soon, nonetheless with someone he knew involved. 

Slightly frozen at the top, he decided he’d listen to the conversation a bit more. As selfish and pathetic as it may sound, he was scared. He didn’t see himself as a hero, at least, not yet. 

“Your phone, your wallet. Quick.”, the men said, Mark couldn’t see his face, he was more focused on you anyways. 

“I’m not giving you anything.”, you snapped back, Mark was worried you’d get yourself in trouble even more, his guts screaming at him to jump in and take the man down. 

“It wasn’t a question.”, clearly, the tallest wasn’t finding any of this funny, he probably also wasn’t planning on you not giving in so easily.  Menacing, he took a few steps closer, enough that your body automatically took a step back, the back door of the club and the end of the street growing further away. 

“Listen up, slut.”, he started, and as soon as you saw his hand raising, you reacted out of impulse. You were scared, yes, but as a broke student, you couldn’t just give him your phone and your wallet, just most of your life in them. The bottle you didn’t even sip on in your hand found the wall, the glass breaking easily. 

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, being almost full, the liquid in the bottle splashed all over the wall, wetting the side of your top and your shoes. Probably in survival mode, you didn’t care much, you just knew that the now broken bottle would be as sharp as a knife, enough to threaten and defend yourself if needed. 

That’s when Mark almost fell backwards, his back falling straight on the green neon light of the store. If the obvious shadow wasn’t enough, the loud noise that came with the impact finished to give away his hiding spot. 

The robber turned around, surprised as he didn’t find anyone standing behind him. You, on the other hand, wished you’ve had the reflex to hit the men as he was distracted, but how could you when a shadowy figure that somewhat looked familiar jumped from god knows where. 

You swore you didn’t drink, no one slipped anything in your drink, yet you couldn’t quite believe your eyes when this person, who looked like he materialized in front of you gave a straight punch in the other men’s face, knocking him out for a few seconds. 

A gasp left your lips as you backed away completely against the wall, the broken bottle glass falling from your grip and you swear, you swear you almost lost your mind.  The men quickly got up, the difference in sizes was obvious, he towered over your new saver, but the masked one’s next move had the power to freeze you completely. 

His hand lifted, with nothing in it, and in a second, something shot from his silhouette. You couldn’t really see it, but a moment, the tall one was ready to knock the both of you out, the moment after, the was firmly held by something on the wall. 

The large, white substance was covering his body, he could struggle and move, he was stuck. A groan escaped his lips, kicking his shoes on the floor. 

“Who are you, what the fuck is that ?”, anger was clear in his voice, but apparently your new hero didn’t want to deal with this. His hand lifted a second time, the same stringy thing, this time aimed towards the men’s face.  Touching his forehead at full impact, his head harshly crashed against the wall, surely knocking him out for a few hours. 

The questions he asked kept running in your head, the adrenaline keeping you from thinking straight, but one thing was sure, he was the one articles were talking about.  The realisation finally hit your brain, your mouth agape as he turned around. You weren’t surprised when you saw he was wearing a black and thick fabric over his face, his face contoured under the material like he was about to say something before he stopped himself. 

 You couldn’t move, too scared, too shocked, his thumb and index formed an o, silently asking you if you were ok. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”, you finally breathed, “Thank you.”

He stared at you for a second, your eyes locked and you couldn’t help but wonder where you saw those eyes. His dark brown eyes were a window to his emotions, you didn’t need to see his face to understand that he was strangely really concerned, almost scared.  Maybe he understood that he was staring, he slowly nodded, apparently, he didn’t want to talk and didn’t know how to communicate with his hands. Shooting you a thumbs up, he ended up holding his hand a bit up, palms towards you, like he was asking you to slow down, probably telling you to be careful. 

You nodded again, every one of your braincells had left your brain at this very moment, you couldn’t believe what you just saw, you couldn’t believe the sight in front of you. “Who are you ?”, you finally asked, like he was going to give you his name just like that.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t have the time before your phone started ringing. Both you and Mark recognised the special ringtone for Johnny. Without thinking, you picked up with a trembling hand, you almost forgot where you were but seeing your friend’s name on you phone only made you want to get back to security as soon as possible. 

“Yeah Johnny, I’m outside, please com-”, you started, before the masked men retreated. “No ! Wait !”, you screamed out, but he was too quick, climbing the wall of the club like it was some simple stairs he was going up. And just like that, he disappeared. 

“Look! Look, look, look, look !”, you jumped on your seat, leaving your phone screen up on the table. Jaehyun quickly looked at it, before resting his back on his chair, torn between getting annoyed and laughing at your attitude. On your phone, was an article about the night you almost got robbed and got saved by “Spiderman”, the name you and a few other people gave him, slowly starting to take off.

You were lightly featured in the article, this wasn’t what you cared about, you cared more about the encounter, you never thought you’d see someone with powers with your own two eyes, you could hardly wrap your head around the fact that they existed. For days now, you were almost obsessed, you needed to thank him, weirdly, you didn’t remember doing it. 

Sadly for your friends, there was hardly a day without you talking about him, hardly a day where you didn’t try to understand who he was, how he became like this.

Sadly for your friends, especially for Mark. 

Oh, how he didn’t know where to put himself. He knew you’d talk about it, a little bit, but not that much. 

“Do you think he’s a student here ?”, you asked, you eyes going scanning your three friends’ faces. Mark dodged the question, shrugging his shoulders before going back to his book. 

“Most likely, yes.”, Johnny though, answered. If Jaehyun was slightly annoyed by the new obsession, Johnny, on the other hand, was getting into the entire conspiracy mood. After all, the mysterious man was the one who saved his friend when he wasn’t around, he almost felt like he owed him something.

“That’s such a weird power, though.”, Jaehyun said, stretching his legs until they were resting on your lap. Dropping you flashcards on him, you continued as he only added oil to the fire. 

“Right? I don’t think he chose this power. No one would pick this out of everything, right ?” 

“Do you think it was like, an accident ?”, Johnny asked, Mark sunk down on the sofa, bringing his book higher to hide his face. He had been reading the same phrase for the past hour, he couldn’t concentrate with his three closest friends unknowingly speculating about him. He couldn’t either deal with the fact that he didn’t tell you, he couldn’t now. He felt like it was too late.

“What do you think, Mark ?”, you asked. No matters how much you hated admitting it months ago, you knew Mark, and seeing him so out and distant was out of the ordinary. The young men usually was one of the mood makers, his loud laughs never failed to grab attention and make you follow his attitude, it didn’t take you long to understand that something was off. 

When Jaehyun was on your left, Mark was on your right, easy to reach, your fingers snapped in front of his eyes. 

“What ?”, he finally asked, making it feel like you didn’t hear his voice for hours. Both Johnny and Jaehyun had caught his odd behaviour and reaction, “His powers, what do you think he can do ?”, you asked a second time. 

“I, ugh-…I don’t know.”, he mumbled, avoiding any eye contact, his attention focusing on a random heart drawing he couldn’t memorize. Even in a bad mood, and you never really saw Mark in a bad mood, not this bad, he’d never avoid such a topic.  Mark Lee had always been kind of a nerd, he would bring comics to class, he’d get pretty excited when a new hero would break out. 

“Are you ok ?”, you finally asked, the question sounding more like a threat than anything else to the young leo. Silence was forced in the room, three pair of eyes waiting for an answer that should normally be obvious and given without a second thought. Was he ok? He didn’t really himself, to be honest. A few days prior, he was confident in himself and almost flying between buildings, now guilt and stress were the only things clouding his mind.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Just stressed.”, he shrugged, thinking he’d be able to go back to trying to work with such an answer. What he wasn’t ready for, though, was your hand on his shoulder. In a millisecond, electricity ran down his spine as he finally looked over his book. The small smile and sweet look in your eyes was one you’d usually give to your two other friends, but he definitely wasn’t used to this. 

“Don’t stress, you’ll do just fine, I promise.”, you finally tell, to which the two other agree, a series of nods and, “You will, don’t worry.”, follow your sentence. 

For the first time in a while, Mark feels small, tiny butterflies in his stomach, a pink hue creeping on his high cheeks.  See, the young men felt accepted in the friend group, something he hadn’t felt since junior high, most likely. None of you knew, but Mark needed the encouragements, more than ever. A small smile crept on his lips as he thanked you, any memories of your old bickerings long gone. Finally, the mood settled down, as everyone seemed to go back to their studies, the leo’s mind somewhat calmer. 

“Anyways, I need to find a way to thank Spiderman.” 

Great.

"How stubborn are you ?”, your classmate Renjun asks, pushing the cubes of ice in his cup with his bright green staw. The sound gets drowned by the hubbub on the park you two are studying in. Or at least you are, eyes trying to adjust to the bright sun as you read your art book under a tree, few students passing by. 

“Very.”, you answer, tapping your pencil on your book, not taking a break from the small annotations you’ve been making. Yes, you were very stubborn, and you’ve been since your childhood. Weeks after the accident outside the club, the “encounter”, as you call it, you’re still determined to see him again, the hooded and mysterious young men almost everyone call spiderman. 

“It’s been weeks. You don’t even know who he is, where he is.”, pointed Renjun, like you’ve never heard it before, you’ve heard it from Jaehyun, Johnny, Yerim, everyone.  Sipping on his too cold iced tea, he coughed a moment as you roll your eyes, frowning at your book. 

“And ? He’s still on the campus, people saw him yesterday.”, you tell him, pouting. Putting emphasis on the last word, you almost sounded like a really dedicated fan of a still sketchy and unknown hero. But you weren’t lying, he did appear last night, Friday again. Almost flying between buildings in the chilling night, shooting spiderwebs after spiderwebs. 

 Actually, he appeared multiple times during the last weeks. Pictures clearer and clearer, it seemed like people were going out, hoping to get a glimpse of him, get the best picture yet. He always seemed to appear at night, during the weekends, but some people still managed to get some good, though grainy shots.  Average height and skinny was what you could see from the series of pictures. “That means I still have a chance to bump into him.” 

More and more, people stopped being septics, theories flying left and right on social medias, but no one really knew who was the masked student. 

“Just to thank him ?”, your friend asked, raising one of his dark eyebrows. Giving up on your book, you looked up as he spoke. 

“Yes, just to thank him.”

Saying it out loud almost made you sound ridiculous…Were you ridiculous? You just really wanted to thank him, in person and without the adrenaline that probably made you lose all of your words last time. Plus, the way he seemed so surprised as well, and how familiar his aura was only pulled you even more in.

“You’re unbelievable.” Renjun sighed, sipping on the last drops of his overpriced tea, making your crunch your nose at the noise. “So, what’s your plan ?” 

You chuckled. You don’t have one. 

“At least try and have some fun.”, Renjun visibly pouts, at least you think he is. The dim, red light of the club isn’t helping your vision at all, eyes tired from hours upon hours on the computer. Turning your attention to your friend, you sigh against your glass, the taste of the non-alcoholised drink you ordered still lingering on your lips, the loud music isn’t helping either when you try to respond. “I’m not here to have fun!”, you’re growing more and more annoyed by the minute, you’ve been here for an hour or so but it feels like you’ve been sitting here for far more, shoe unconsciously tapping on the club’s floor as all your friends dance to the beat of the song. Needless to say, your sentence didn’t make much sense in such a setting.  This seems to be the last straw for your friend, who, you have to say, you’ve been putting through a lot, frustration clear on his face as he sits down in the booth, just a table filled with bottles and glasses between the two of you. “You’re way too focused and obsessed with this thing.” He’s right, you know he is, but it doesn’t stop you from looking down at your half-full drink, swirling the liquid around with a finger, one side of your brain refusing to understand his very rational point of view.  “Come on, let’s dance a bit ? Even if you don’t see him tonight, it’s not a big deal.”

Once again, he’s right. Even if you don’t see him tonight, it shouldn’t be a big deal, it shouldn’t affect your mood nor your night, it really shouldn’t. But see, aside from thanking him, there’s something else that really is bugging you, the more you think about it, the more it’s suspicious, but the more it feels like you’re being paranoid, delusional.  How familiar he was, you didn’t mention it, it was just a feeling and didn’t think much about it, but now that his identity was a big, red question on everyone’s lips, you truly couldn’t push the thought aside.  Maybe it was someone from your class, someone you came across while going to one of your classes, you didn’t know and Renjun didn’t let you think more about it, slender fingers wrapping around your wrist to force you on the dancefloor. 

You can’t spot Johnny, probably dancing somewhere else and out of your vision or, knowing him, taking shots at the crowded bar. Jaehyun wasn’t there, nor was Mark, the first needed to get back home, while the second needed to study for upcoming tests. 

Not having half of your group did feel weird, especially on Friday nights and weekends. But, you understood that Jaehyun was pretty homesick and needed to recharge with his family, while Mark seemed to get back to his old self and tried as best as he could to regain his first place, nothing exceptional. 

“I need some fresh air, I’ll be back soon, alright ?”, you finally tell Renjun. Fuck it, you needed to get over it, eventually, all of this would get unhealthy way too quickly.  Pushing through bodies, you quickly walked along the painted walls of the club, lights flashing and dancing on the dark colour, easily finding the door to the exit. 

One push of the door and the chilly air of this Friday night rushed on your body, licking away the thin layer of sweat that had gathered near your hairline. Outside, the campus’ streets are animated despite the cold weather, groups of friends meeting before a week of midterms. 

It’s crazy how a bit of fresh air managed to clear your mind, filling your chest before you let the fog form in front of your tinted lips. You have to correct your own posture, back straight, head high, rolling your shoulders, bones screaming from your bad postures.  Walking away from the building, you take a few steps on the main street, wandering aimlessly until you’d cleared your mind, gradually managing to think about something else that isn’t him.  But it seemed your mind wouldn’t be left peaceful for long, the world wasn’t so good on you. 

It takes a few seconds for your ears to peak up the loud screaming from afar. At first, your ears peak up, only registering how loud they’re being before understanding that a fight is taking place some meters away from you. Screams and words you can barely make out, it’s clear both parties are already pretty intoxicated, both it seems nothing physical started, yet.  Humans are curious by nature, and it shows when a few people gathered around the two drunk students, you included, walking a bit closer. Only, when you see exactly who’s arguing do you drop your curiousness to worry and fear, you didn’t recognise Johnny right away, thinking he was still in the club. But without a doubt, there he is, his leather jacket gone as his tall and impressive figure towers and walks towards the unknown second party. 

“Come on, touch me!”, the stranger taunted your close friend. If there’s one thing you rapidly figured out about Johnny, it’s that, when he was sober, the brunette wasn’t quite aware of his strength. A lot like a puppy who grew up too fast and wasn’t accommodated to his grown body. Drunk Johnny, on the other side, wasn’t afraid of acting recklessly, and it made you fear for the unknowing partygoer. 

A small crowd had formed around them, mostly cheering on, blindly pushing the fight to go on. You couldn’t let it take place, you couldn’t let it happen.  In his drunken state, Johnny gave in, fist clenched in a way you knew he’d throw it at any second, your heartbeat picked up and before you knew it, your body threw itself between the two men, not thinking twice. In seconds, you couldn’t really process the multiple shouts of your friend’s name tumbling from your lips as you desperately tried to push his body away. Somehow, you find yourself behind him, tugging at the plain white shirt he chose to wear, hands gripping the fabric. 

Most likely because of the alcohol and adrenaline running through his veins, Johnny didn’t pay any attention to you, trying to reach the stranger again and again. 

“Hit me, hit me!”, obnoxious and way too cocky for his own good, the second party you quickly learned was named “Jinyeon”, was free of his movements and quickly getting railed up.  You couldn’t hold onto Johnny for so long, it seemed no one was really trying to actively break the fight, leaving you alone. Your grip on his shirt was quickly slipping away, your desperate voice calling for your friend again and again, but it seemed you couldn’t get past his drunken mind.  And, just as your fingertips were letting go of your friend, a promise of a fight you couldn’t stop after it’d start, Jiyeon’s screams stopped. 

For a few seconds only, before his drunken swears were directed towards someone else, someone you knew too well.  Red hood mask, a collective gasp and whispers followed the appearance of the one and only campus superhero. Visibly, he liked popping out of nowhere, you didn’t even fully register his presence before he was standing between the two dunk fighters.  Despite his smaller figure, he didn’t need to use any strength to stop the fight at once, both with the surprise he caused and by the string of spider web that stuck Jiyeon’s hands together. 

“What the fuck is that ?”, he screamed, desperately trying to get the unknown substance away from him, his watered-down senses causing him to tumble backwards. Only then, did his friends walked out of the crowd, finally deciding to put an end to everything as they helped him regain his balance and walk a bit away.  You, on the other hand, was stunned, to say the least. Your hands had flopped down to your side, it seemed the mere apparition of Spiderman had managed to sobber Johnny down enough that he didn’t try to throw a fit and mimicked your moves, arms falling at his sides with an open mouth. 

“You need to calm down.”, second, or maybe the third shock of the day, you didn’t really count. The hooded hero spoke, but his voice was audibly altered, making him sound almost like a robot, a layer of autotune on his original voice.  Lips parted, you watched as he hesitantly walked towards Johnny, a clear opposite to how confident he was when he restrained Jiyeon’s hands. 

“Are you okay ?”, he spoke again, body language visibly thorn between two extremes, only when Johnny nodded did his shoulders flop down, nodding to himself. 

“Are you ?”, you asked yourself, finally processing the entire situation. It felt surreal, you never thought you’d have to stop a fight, nor a fight with one of your closest friend. 

“Yeah. I need to walk a bit.”, was the only thing he said, taking a few steps away from you as his heart-beat slowed down. 

“And…And you ?”, it almost made you jump back when your attention turned from Johnny to the campus’ hero, he had walked a bit closer, fingers tugging at his gloves.  Finally, you took a long look at his appearance, he was just like in the pictures, still wearing the same hoodie and mask over his face. Only then, did it hit you.  There was your chance to thank him ! 

You probably had a weird expression on your face, his face lolled to the side, a small gasp left your lips. You almost touched his arm, but had to restrain yourself from getting too much into his private bubble. “Y-Yeah! Do you remember me ?” You couldn’t believe your own voice, almost shy and quivering, pearly teeth biting down on your lower lip. 

He took a few seconds to respond, for you, it seemed like he was searching back in his memories. After all, he saw you once in a dark street, a weeks ago. 

What you don’t know, is that Mark, under his thick mask, debates fainting amnesia, he really does. He recalls starting a phrase two times, before vomiting out a string of words like an awkward teenage boy on a first date. “I-Uh, yeah. I remember you.”

Oh, how Mark doesn’t know why his palms get sweaty even when they’re covered with gloves, nor why his heartbeat picks up now, when it didn’t while breaking the fight up, fight that included one of his close friends. Mark doesn’t know why his words get mushed in his brain, or why his mouth goes dry.  He’s too focused on trying to understand why to comprehend what you’re saying, he sees your lips moving, he hears, but his brain doesn’t process. 

“What ?”, he asks, almost feeling guilty for not listening to you, but he sees you giggling for a second, maybe because the whole conversation seems funny with his autotuned voice. 

“I wanted to thank you for the last time.”, you say again, a giddy smile taking over your features, one Mark decides he likes why more than the worried and scared look you had on your face moments before he arrived. Did he have the power to give you that smile, he only wondered for a quarter second. 

“Oh, no worries. You don’t have to thank me twice.”, Mark smiles under his mask, of course, your stubborn mind wouldn’t let go.  “No real-. Twice ?”, the way your face grows red in embarrassment makes him giggle, in autotune again, causing you to laugh at both him and yourself. “I was sure I didn’t the first time.”

“No worries ! Just, keep the gossiping down from now on.”, Mark wanted his phrase lighthearted and was ready to fly away with that, not giving you time to register what he said before he turned his back to you and, within a second or so, managed to shoot a string of web to a building and swing away as quickly as he came.  Leaving you alone, the weird feeling bubbling in your stomach left as rapidly when your mind connected two dots. Gossip ? How did he know about your gossiping about him…? He couldn’t have ears everywhere, of…did he ?  And that’s how, in the middle of a cold street, surrounded by tipsy friday night partygoers, your eyes grew twice their size. That’s how, with one sentence he probably didn’t think through, you unmasked Spiderman, you unmasked Mark Lee. 

You don’t know what entity took over you, but it craves closure, and a good shot to drown everything. 

When these two dots connected, you never felt so dumb in your entire life. Everything made sense, in a way, yet you needed a clear proof, or else you were going crazy.  The voice, the body language, the corpulence, the unending awkwardness every time the subject was brought up. That’s why he seemed so familiar, because it was Mark, someone you’ve know your entire life. How dumb you must’ve looked when he was hiding under his mask.  Even, why has he hiding this from you, from Johnny and Jaehyun of all people ? Or did they know ? And you were the only one in pure secret and ignorance ? You thought you two made up, but if he told your two friends and not you, it was clear the friendship you felt between the two of you was one sided.  And somehow, this hurts a bit too much. You blamed it on the trust you had finally given him, the multiple efforts you’ve made to go along, and nothing else. Yet, the confusion was a bit too intense, and it drove you to his dorm door. 

Lucky for Mark, he didn’t forget to lock his door. Lucky for you, dealing with three chaotic and forgetful guys means you can pick a lock. After all, it’s a simple dorm, your old credit card is enough to dislodge the small piece of metal and let you enter.  It’s dark inside, curtains pulled to the side, streets lights helping you adapt to the lack of light. For some reason, your eyes linger on his bed, it’s neatly made and you don’t have to fear that he’s sleeping under the covers.  Faint smell of his earthy cologne floats in the air as you fully enter the room and close the door behind you, locking itself in a second.  Now what ? Adrenaline brought you there and now what ? Feet dragging on the floor, you didn’t dare turn the light on. One hand softly brushing his blanket, your first thought goes to his desk. Surely, if there’s something to find, it must be here. Mark’s laptop lays there, closed but from the faint light, still on.  What are you doing ? You ask yourself a few times, you’re either crazy for thinking that your friend’s the neighbourhood superhero, or you’re crazy for snooping in your friend’s room.  Fuck it, now that you’re here, might as well clench your curiosity before Mark comes back from where ever he is.  One finger is enough to lift the screen, light pouring in the room, almost blinding you at how bright it is.  Your eyes take a few moments to adapt to the digital screen, your university’s page on the screen. The headline’s about Spiderman, you bite your lip before leaving your fingers on the touch pad.  It’s not a clear proof, maybe he’s just searching or reading about him. Mark has always been a huge superhero fan anyways.  Exiting the page doesn’t unleash more information either, the laptop’s clean, nothing special. His biology paper is here, multiple pages into it, notes here and there. After closing every page, guilt washes over you. His laptop wallpaper faces you, forces you into rethinking your actions, a selfie Johnny took a few weeks ago with your whole group in it. You smile brightly between him and Mark, both of them throwing peace signs as they usually do.  Who would’ve thought you’d end up as Mark Lee’s wallpaper, definitely not junior high school you.  You take a few seconds to regain yourself, guilt builds up alongside the stress you didn’t know you had, grabbing at your throat. Only now do you feel like running away, red alarms going off in your head as your head screams that Mark could enter at any moment.  Another side of your brain tells you to search a bit more, your hand goes down his open drawer and you feel around, not thinking that you might come across something weird, being in a boy’s room.  “What are you looking for ?”

The voice seems to come out of nowhere, you jump on your spot, the back of your hand hitting the wood of his desk. Turning back around, your mind goes blank, empty, no thought’s you’d even say. But you can clearly feel your ears getting red as you face none other than Mark Lee.  The young adult’s standing in the middle of his room, the cold breeze of the night coming in by the open window. Fuck, you didn’t even here it opening, how did he get it so quietly ? The light’s still off, but you can clearly see his mask in his fist, gloved fingers clenching it. Spiderman’s mask.  Yet again, your mind has two reactions.  “Mark…”, voice small, you just got caught red headed. He’s probably going to kick you out and tell Johnny and Jaehyun you’re crazy. Your throat goes dry as he doesn’t say anything, lips a straight line, eyebrows slightly furrowed.  He’s speechless, something you never thought he could be. The brunette shakes his head lightly, looking down and preventing you from seeing his face anymore, and there you decide you hate not being able to look into his eyes. As he moves his head from left to right, like he’s trying to shake himself awake, you notice his brown locks, sticking in different directions.  Mark disregards his mask on his bed, like a rag doll, lifeless on the white covers. 

“Mark ?!”, you voice calls him again, you dare address him again after being caught in such a sticky situation. He hisses, maybe sighs, you don’t really know. It’s the confirmation you needed, you were right. Your voice’s high pitched, shock clear in your voice. You know he knows, he knows you know. Thoughts, chaotic in both heads, yet no words are spoken. 

“Don’t tell anyone.”, is what he says first, voice soft and almost weak, you understand he’s exhausted and almost feel bad for making him deal with you, this, after a night of -what you think is- fighting small crimes and keeping peace on the campus.  You take a step back, you don’t know why. Maybe because realisation just hits you a second time without giving you a proper time out. He didn’t tell anyone, and you foolishly assumed he told Johnny and Jaehyun, you knowingly questioned your friendship with him. 

Maybe you stayed silent for a bit too long, the student finally dares looking at you like he’s the one trespassing, calling your name. 

“They don’t know ?”, you finally articulate, mouth putty, like you desperately need water. “They” doesn’t need to be defined, both you and Mark know who you’re talking about. All he does is shake his head no again, before letting his body fall on his bed.  Your mouth hangs open for seconds, like a fish. You feel like you just forcefully robbed someone from a huge secret, which, you’ve done. When you thought weight would’ve been lifted up from your shoulders, it just adds on. 

“Oh.”, is all your mind can find. It’s all you can say. What do you even do ? Tell him you had suspicions and decided to break into his bedroom ? 

“Yeah.”, silence feels the room. Awkward, tense, you’d be able to cut it with a knife, pierce through it with a needle. Strings in your heart pull and inevitably break when you remember last time such a silence took place with Mark was before you two met Johnny and Jaehyun and silently decided to get along. 

“I-.”, you try, but before a mix of different phrases and words can escape your mouth like a river, Mark stops you. 

“When did you find out ?”, he asks. He’s visibly stressed, fingers playing together before he eventually throws his gloves next to his mask, right leg moving up and down. You hate being the cause of this. 

“When we were outside.”, you finally find your words, pearly teeth repeatedly biting down on your -probably- red bottom lip. You had to lean against his desk, knees weak. “When you said to stop with the gossiping.” 

In another situation, it would be comical, how his pretty brown eyes widen in realisation, just like yours did. His palms rub his face and he audibly groans, a small “fuck”, tumbling from his lips. 

“I don’t even remember saying it.”, he confessed with a speechless laugh. Hearing it helps you relax the slightest bit, he doesn’t sound bitter, just dumbfounded. He says silent after that, though his eyes never leave your figure and you understand he wants to know more. 

“Then-…Then it just clicked, you know. The voice, the body language.”, -You’ve known each other for years- you wanted to add, but decided against it for the moment. The young superhero only nods, looking to the side for a moment. 

“So you decided to break in.”

It clearly wasn’t a question, more like another dumbfounded, almost hurt observation. You shift on your feet, balancing your weight from one side to the other, really, you look like a child who just got caught stealing candy before dinner. 

“I’m sorry, I just-…I thought-…I thought you told them and not me…”, your voice gets quieter as you speak, if you could, you’d disappear in thin air alongside your embarrassment. Eyes on the floor, you miss how his eyes get bigger, before shifting under his frowning eyebrows.  You’re ready for another row of uncomfortable silence, but Mark has too much to say to let it go so easily. 

A gasp leaves his lips when he registers what you just told him, his bed shifting as he stands up. The young men’s sudden move catches you off guard, your eyes taking in his figure as he smoothly lifts his left hand towards the wall on your right.  There, you clearly witness his powers for the first time. From what you assume is his wrist, the brunette shoots a sting of spider web. It’s so fast you almost miss it, but the substance lands on the light switch, turning the light bud on immediately. 

You’re almost blinded by the light, taking seconds to adjust to the sudden change. You understand that he’s mad, maybe even disappointed. You, yourself, are disappointed with yourself. you could’ve taken the issue in such a different way, but now was too late.  

“You really thought I wouldn’t tell you ?”, the disappointment, clear in his voice, has the power to pull at your heart for some reason.  You don’t even know how to answer. Yes ? You thought he didn’t. 

“N-No…It’s just that-”, your throat tightens, oh how you hate this feeling, your heart starts pumping faster, lips going dry.

“Don’t lie to me, you thought I told them and not you. Who do you think I am ?”, 

“I’m sorry, I don’t-”, that’s when you finally dare to look up at him, cutting your sentence halfway. With the lack of light, you didn’t notice the cuts on your friend. Blood on the corner of his lips, a small cut on his cheek, it’s your turn to furrow your eyebrows. Your eyes travel down, so does Mark’s. His knuckles are bruised, a deep shade of purple on his milky skin. 

You feel gutted, it hits you. He is Spiderman, he puts himself in danger, he could get severely hurt everytime he flies out his window. 

“What happened ?”, you’re almost on the verge of tears at this point, bottom lip trembling as Mark looks up at the ceiling, a deep sigh expanding his chest.

“Had to break another fight.”, he simply says, like it’s nothing. 

Your heart tightens, you don’t want to cry, not now. Blinking your tears away, you almost manage to escape the discussion, turning around to clumsily fumble with the papers laying on his desk. “Do you have anything to clean yourself up ?” 

From the sound his bed makes, he probably sat down again, letting his body fall on his covers with another sigh. “Under the desk, in the white bag.”  You have to clear your throat, nod slightly as you bend down and take the said bag. 

“We’re friends.”, he finally tells you as you seat next to him, and oh how guilty you feel. From all the times you, him and your two other friends hung out in his very room, you don’t remember Mark’s bed being this small. You have to move closer anyways, one of your knees against his thigh as you face him. You look down and get busy with the first aid box, it seems he used it a few times already and you can’t help but picture him, in the dead of the night, having to clean his cuts and bruises when his friends think he’s peacefully asleep. 

“Look at me.” His voice’s softer, he probably knows you could cry at any point now. You do as you’re told after letting a few drops of liquid soak a cotton ball, finding yourself looking right into his brown eyes. 

“We’re friend, right ?”, this time, he asks, and you almost laugh and sob at the same time, a breathy sound coming from your lips. Mark sounds like a small kid on the first day of school trying to make friends, maybe a bit like when you two first met. 

“We’re friends.”, you tell both him and yourself before lightly tapping the cotton on his cheek, he smiles, your heart flutters. The young superhero doesn’t move, he doesn’t even acknowledge what you think would at least be a small sting. “Doesn’t hurt ?” 

“Why do you sound disappointed ?”, he asks with a laugh, one sound you like way better. “Small cuts heal quickly. The whole power thing, y’know.”

“Oh.”, is the only thing you’re able to let out, unconsciously leaning closer to rub at the cut, who you discover is just a bloodstain now. A pout on your lips, you have to look at his cheek a little bit closer. “Lucky.”

“Yeah.”, he says softly, but lets you finish your job anyways. Soon enough, his skin is clean, and as he said, there’s no cut underneath. You don’t think anyone knows about this side of his power, after all, the university’s newspaper doesn’t know a lot either, feeding itself from witnesses. 

“Thank you.”, you finally tell him, voice hushed as prepare another cotton. 

“Hm ?”

“For not getting mad and y’know…Kicking me out.”, you don’t look at him, turning your attention towards another cotton ball you soak in product now that you know it won’t hurt him. He laughs at that, air fanning over your face, you smile. 

“You could’ve, I don’t know. Threw me out the window. Covered my body with spider webs. Or- Can you bite ?” Mark laughs again, genuinely amused by your small monologue, so amused he doesn’t notice your fingers under his chin, nor does he notice how naturally he lets his face rest in the palm of your hand. 

“I can, but it won’t do anything special.” 

“Hm, interesting. Making a mental note for the school’s newspaper.” you joke, the mood is a lot less tense, Mark has this everlasting tired smile on his rosy lips, dusty cheeks and lazy eyes as he silently watches you. 

“Shut up.”, he breathes out, and you don’t answer to that. Finally, the silence that takes place isn’t as awkward or strange as it was, you press the cotton ball at the corner of his lips when he decided to shut up and stop talking, your heartbeat quickens. 

“Ouch!”, he whines as soon as the liquid touches his skin, visibly flinching away from your hand. “Oh, fuck, sorr-”, lips parted, eyes wide, you fumble to find a clean cotton ball in hopes of whipping the excess. 

“-m joking ! Y/N, I’m okay, I was just joking.”. No matters how many hours you spent with the brunette, or how many years you’ve known him, you won’t ever get his humour sometimes. Shooting him a death stare, hands still deep in his first aid kit, you’re the one who frowns. “Why would you do that, fuck.”

“This one’s because you wanted to tell on the school’s news, you snitch.”

“I was jok-”, you’d rather not finish your sentence, by the way he’s looking at you and smiling a bit too much for a bruised man, you know he just wants to annoy you. Fuck it, you have to grip his cute face in your hand for him to stop moving every minute. Rising on your knees, the lack of light makes you tilt his face upwards to get a better view. “Wait, don’t move.”, high school you would throw up as you move one of your knees, planting it between his legs, your palms get sweaty. 

“Let me take care of you, hm ?”, the sentence cames out a lot quieter than you wanted it to be, but after all, you’re close enough that the whisper rings in his ears, you have a lump in your throat. Mark’s lips part, just for him to close his mouth less than a second after, and he visibly swallows.

“O-oh, yeah. Okay.”, and that’s when you understand. That’s when you understand how close the two of you are and yet, you don’t pull back, you don’t really want to. His body heat and perfume strangely seem to calm you down. You’re almost body to body, you feel him breathe, you feel him move his legs the slightest bit under you, you see his pupils grow a bit more. 

The honey brown of his eyes seems to disappear, and you can’t decide if it’s because of you, or because of the lack of light in his small dorm. 

You don’t dare think it’s because of you, could it be ? You don’t know yours are as blown as his, and it’s definitely not because of his room’s darkness. 

Two clueless kids.  You press the cotton a second time on the corner of his lip, gentle as you clean the blood. He still has the habit of biting his lip, you think to yourself. He almost looks like he wore a cheer coat of lipstick, uneven and blood red. Soon enough, you’re cleaning nothing, simply stroking as you stare down.  

When did he become so attractive ? It’s when you catch yourself asking yourself this very question that you decide it’s time to back away, his scent and the warmth of his body does nothing but pull you in even more and you don’t think you can deal with that at this very moment. 

Mark, on the other hand, thinks something else.  As you’re about to pull away, completely detach your body from his and hopefully shake the haze he pulled you in out of your mind, his own hand gently wraps under your jaw. It’s a firm, yet delicate grip you can’t register right away because milliseconds later, his lips crash against your own. It starts off hesitant, trembling and unsure lips against your bottom lip. He tastes like the melon lollipops he likes so much, no signs of iron from the blood previously on the corner of his lips. For a moment, Mark doesn’t move, Mark almost pulls away when he realizes what he’s doing. 

He’s kissing you, the young hero doesn’t remember the first time he thought about actually doing it, that’s how long the brunette has been wanting it. It’s when his lips detach from your own, scared he crossed the line that you chase after him. You chase after his lips, you’re scared of it being a one time thing, you want more than the small kiss he dared to give you. Taking advantage of your position, your hand sneaks behind his head, fingers already finding purpose in his hair, tilting his head back as you dive in.

Clumsily, your mouth moves against his own, capturing his bottom lip. Your knees grow weak, body shivering when his hands dare to hold your hips. He’s unsure, hands resting on your hip bones, scared to move without your approval. You give it clearly once you softly bite on his bottom lip. The brunette quietly gasps against your mouth, and you dare to present your tongue, the pink muscle meeting his own in a breathless, wet, kiss.  Out of breath, you both have to pull away. Your reddish lips reflect his own, matching glossy eyes, it’s probably then that Mark loses it and pushes aside his shyness around you. Quickly, his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans, using his grip on the clothing piece to force your body down.  Your knees don’t need more to let your body fall onto his lap, or rather, his thigh. Strong and firm under your core, it takes all your will not to desperately grind on him, but your body aches to do it already.

“Waited so fucking long to do this.”, he confessed against the skin of your neck, dragging his lips on the side. His words make you blush a bit too hard, blooming flowers in your heart, your fingers tighten their grip on his locks. Such a simple gesture, yet it managed to make your old enemy moan, a stained sound he tried to hide by busying himself on your neck, painting dark petals. He sucks lightly there, and with this action only, it’s your turn to moan out. It’s a breathy sound, but it gets Mark so worked up his hands slide to the small of your back, resting just above your ass.

“You should’ve done it sooner.”, you tease him a bit, he can’t see the small smile on your face, but he definitely notices when your hips drag themselves against his thigh, losing your self-control. Another simple gesture, driven by pure lust, but it gets Mark’s eyes wide, his jeans a lot less comfortable. He groans, it comes deep from his chest, fuck it, he thinks.

Suddenly, he’s on top of you. Your mind’s so hyper focused on him that you follow his movement when he leans forward. Your back softly hits his bed, hair spreading on his pillow in a halo, the neighbourhood hero’s eyes linger for a moment on the two purple marks he left on your untouched skin, he decides he wants nothing more than to ruin you while having your body as close as possible to his.

“Pretty.”, it’s a simple murmur, so quiet you almost missed it, his right thumb softly draws circles on the two purple petals he left, like he couldn’t believe he was the creator, his left hand pinned just next to your head to support himself. You smile at yourself at the soft manner, but your smile quickly drops to have your lips parted when his thumb moves across, his hand now fully wrapped around your neck.

It gets your skin burning, legs closing for some relief as you feel yourself getting wetter, and Mark certainly notices your body’s reaction. Mark, or someone else. You don’t really know who’s facing you when his lips tug upwards in a devilish smirk, you’ll understand after that his newly found powers also brought a bag of confidence. “Fuck”, is all you’re able to mutter when his grip slightly tightens. He doesn’t even restrict your air canal, but it’s enough for you to understand what he’s thinking about.

“Mark.”, you call out, voice so small he just hums with another knowing smile. “Touch me.”, and it’s all he needs. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lowers his body towards you, making it harder for you to breathe. Resting on his forearm, his eyes never leave your face, he details every feature like he won’t see you ever again after this, he looks at you like he can’t get enough. You, actually do the same. You never noticed how cute his nose looked, small and button-like. However, you noticed how sharp his eyes looked, but never how one of his eyelids was more defined, or how good his new undercut looked.

Arms linked behind his head, you bite down on your bottom lip when Mark uses his knee to part your legs a little more, enough for him to get comfortable between your thighs. This time, it’s your turn to initiate the kiss, bringing his face towards yours with your arms. He’s more than happy to bend under your needs, smiling softly against you as he kisses you back.

This time it isn’t as hesitant, his lips dance at a rhythm you match perfectly, diving deeper before meeting your tongue again. You could easily get addicted to the taste and feeling, his saliva coats your taste buds when he licks into your mouth. It’s an exchange that gets sloppy, messy. Sighs, moans, and a whimper from you when finally, finally, his fingers toy with the button of your jeans.

“Can I ?”, he asks already knowing the answer, his forehead against your own. Throat dry, you nod quickly, so quickly it’s almost funny. Your hips rise up to help him take the tight fabric off of your body. “Good girl.”, Mark praises as he grips the fabric and easily slides it off your legs.

Strangely, you don’t feel exposed, you don’t try to hide, and even if you did, you both know Mark would’ve used his knee to part your legs again. You appreciate the way his eyes linger on your bare skin, right hand running on your outer thigh.   That’s when you remember the mismatching underwear you chose to wear that day, not thinking you’d end up in such a situation. Mark’s hand finally travels to your inner thigh, thumb stroking just next to your burning core.

“Baby, you’re leaking.”, the nickname rolls out of his tongue so naturally, it rings in your ears, makes your head spin a little more, you never thought you’d hear it. You downfall when his forefinger and middle finger press against your white panties, just so he can punctuate and prove his words. And yes, you’re drenched, the simple touch under the fabric is enough to have you clenching around nothing, silently anticipating his next move.

Thankfully, the college student isn’t planning on teasing you too much for tonight, he’s aching to finally touch you, feel you arch for what he has to give you. His fingers hook under your undies, swiftly taking it off your body to completely expose your core to him. “Off. Take it off.”, you’re babbling, at this point, hands fisting the fabric of his thick top, tugging at it. Mark finds it amusing, how weak you already are, begging just for him to take his top off, but he plays on it anyways. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Mark. Take your shirt off.”

And he does, hands gripping the fabric from the back to pull it off over his head, and quickly disregards it on the floor of his room. And, fuck.

Fuck, it’s the only word your mind can form, how ethereal can he look.

His pale skin reveals itself under the shy moon, the light makes his jaw and collarbones look sharper, his muscles and faint abs look carved in marble by Rodin himself. You think his nightly workouts on top of buildings really helped his figure, and your hands can only lock behind his back, fingers caressing his curved waist.

Quickly, your soft touches turn into sharp, red lines on his milky skin when he inserts a finger into your core without a warning. A gasp leaves your lips, his digit starts moving quickly, helped by the wetness between your legs and soon enough, another is added. His rhythm turns slow and steady, your walls hugging his fingers as you adjust to them. It manages to steal your breath, leaving you a panting mess under Mark’s body. His lips find purpose on your neck again, determined to decorate your skin even more. His breathe is ragged, like he’s the one being pleasured, “That’s right, let me hear you.”

You both forgot about Mark’s neighbours and how thin the walls are, soft moans filling his room, the sound of the brunette’s wet kisses for your ears only. And, when he’s satisfied with your sounds, the superhero adds a third finger and picks up the rhythm, one that gets your back arching, eyes fluttering shut, biting your lip at how he stretches your walls. “So fucking tight, you can barely take my fingers.”

The men cooed, you barely register what he says, you never took Mark for the dirty talking type, but you definitely won’t complain. Not when he’s looking at you the way your core and his fingers connect like he’s about to eat you up. 

“Fuck, Mark, faster!”, you hands travel from his back to his hair, hips raising in an attempt to feel him a little more.  The light strain from the stretch is still there, but it’s a small amount of pain added to the pleasure, a mixture you love too much, a mixture you decided you’re addicted to when your old enemy pressed his thumb to your bud of nerves. The familiar knot in your stomach is threatening to burst at any moment, waiting for Mark to give the last blow.

“’m close.”, you realize, as Mark does. In seconds, his left hand pins your lower half to his bed, his lips find yours again when he understands how loud you could get. The kiss’ messy, teeth clashing, your moans and sighs breaking the exchange every few seconds. Mark decides he might be in love with your moans, a few flicks of the wrist, and his fingers reach deeper, thumb presses harder until you come undone underneath him.

You don’t really remember what you said, a mess of tangle words, swears and Mark’s name, but you do remember the slight taste of blood in your mouth from how hard you bite your lower lip. Mark’s fingers don’t slow down the slightest bit, his mouth leaves yours, wanting to watch your face as you come around his fingers.

“Fuck, look at you.”, he muses when he takes his fingers out, watching in awe as he finds them glittering from your essence under the low light. “Already so fucked out, just from my fingers, hm ?” And you are, slightly breathless, eyes glossy, lips red.

You were about to complain and whine about how empty your felt, until your mouth hangs open as Mark takes his fingers into his mouth, moaning around his digits like a starved moan finally getting a meal. That’s when you decide, you want him, you need him.

It takes him by surprise, how you rise to your knees and make him sit on his bed. “Are you okay ?”, he asks, like he’s scared he went too far or harmed you by accident. “Wanna suck you off.”, is all you tell him before your knees find to floor of his bed.

“Oh.”, and it’s his turn to lose his words, eyes hooded as he watches you slide down and gently start working on his jeans. Mark might cum right then and there when you take his pants off, the hand palming him through the thin layer of his boxer, humming at how hard he feels under your fingertips.

“Don’t tease.”, he warns, voice a bit deeper, but he isn’t fooling you, the impatience in his eyes is way too obvious. They never leave your figure when you take this very layer off of his body, judging your reaction. You think you choked on your saliva. The young men’s member might be average in weight, he’s above in length, something you didn’t expect, but again, won’t complain about. Your body also reacts by itself, you remember that you’re not wearing any underwear, and you don’t want to leak on his floor.

“Bab-.”, he calls to catch your attention, his voice getting caught in his throat when you overtake him by wrapping your hand around his dick. “Oh, shit.”, the breathy curse tumbles from his lips as your hand moves up and down, using the pre-cum already leaking from his head. His head automatically rolls to the side, his tongue poking out before he takes his bottom lip between his teeth, sharp eyes impatient. “Thought you wanted to suck me off ?”, he asks, breathless, challenging.

He wanted to play, push your buttons like he used to in high school, but now, you have the upper hand. “Come on big girl, take i-“, you overtake him a second time, tongue flat running on his shaft, finding how his jaw drops and voice cuts a bit too amusing. “Fucking slut.”, is all he manages to articulate, chuckling at your antics. You, on the other hand, wasn’t expecting such words, a choked moan leaves your lips before you busy your mouth by taking Mark’s head between your lips, but he doesn’t miss your reaction.

His hand quickly finds your hair, freeing your vision from any locks that could block it, before slowly guiding you down his length. “Oh, you like when I call you a slut ?”, it’s a rhetorical question you’re not able to answer to anyways, you can only moan again against his dick as he eases himself into your mouth. “Dirty girl. Taking me so fucking well, god.” Jaw relaxed, he feels heavy on your tongue, your eyes might start tearing up.

His praises only make you more determined to pleasure him, you let him control the pace but hallow your cheeks, sucking on his head every time he guides your head up. “That fucking mouth, you were made for this, weren’t you ?”, he groans. His nails lightly scratch your head before he loses his composure, the steady and average rhythm he set turns rapid, his hips meeting your mouth halfway.

It’s when his squishy head hits the back of your throat that you have to breathe through your nose a bit harder, gagging around him every now and then. And, apparently, it drives Mark crazy. When you finally look up, innocent eyes planting themselves into his, you wished you had a camera to immortalize this very moment. The young superhero’s head thrown back, neck and Adam’s apple exposed, abs clenching as he’s getting closer and closer to his own high, his groans slowly turning into full moans. It’s melodic, beautiful sounds you don’t think you’ll ever get enough off. But, as your head starts moving faster, disregarding your sore throat and independently from his rhythm, he stops you. You whine when your mouth’s left empty, robbed from the want to see him come in your mouth.

“Wanna be inside you.”, his finger curl under your chin, helping you get up, and this time, he doesn’t hesitate, his hands are on your hips, before travelling under your shirt.

In a swift motion, he throws your body on his bed once again, before he towers you.

“Y/N, do you want this ?”, he asks, and how careful he is now compared to the way he spoke before makes you genuinely smile. You take things into your own hands, quickly taking your shirt off, leaving your bra on for Mark to take off. “Mark.”, you call out softly, and your arms like behind his head again. He hums, the college student looks like he’s in a daze, eyes wondering on your covered breasts. His face comes down once again, nose nuzzling against your cheek as he takes a deep breath, and that’s when you realize how fast your heart is beating. Despite that, your lean into his touch, closing your eyes, “Fuck me, wanna feel you.”

It’s all he needs to take things into his own hands, a shaky breath leaves his lips as he nods to himself. He can’t tease himself or tease you further, at this point, he just wants to be inside of you, be one, and take you. So, he does. His right hand aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes leave your figure for a split second before he finds your eyes again. You have to break the eye contact when he finally enters up, head stretching your walls even though his fingers prepared you moment prior.

Your eyes roll back as he gradually slides in, “There you go, fuck.”, sweet nothings are whispered into your ear, his right arm sneak under your back to keep you close, he wants to mold his body against yours, feel every breathe you take and sense every vibration from every moan, feel the sighs you let out die on his skin. His left forearm planted next to your hand, he used his leverage and chase after your lips again before moving his hips.

You, feel everything, every vein, especially when he slides out and rams in. You can’t keep up with the kiss, your head is thrown back, your body almost follows the movement and hikes up his bed, but he holds you close. You understand he’s been waiting to do this for a while, with the way he lets his cock move in and out of you in a slow pace, but still manages to thrust deep, so deep.

“You feel so fucking good. O-h god, Mark, babe.”, you cry out, in pure bliss, as Mark hides his face in the crook of your neck, the way you moan his name gets to his head a bit too quickly, it poison his mind and makes him lose any self-control he had. He who wanted to take things slow at first doesn’t keep up with his internal promise for long, he craves to hear more of your moans, more of his name falling from your lips in lust. The brunette picks up in pace, he gets rough, hips slapping against your own.

You’re surprise his bed isn’t moving more than that, actually, you’re glad. His bedframe would’ve banged against the wall of his room, your mouth agape. Your moans flow freely, maybe a bit too freely for Mark’s neighbour’s and integrity, god knows he would’ve let you be as loud as you wanted if he could.

“Tsk.”, a tired smile stretches his lips, his left hand finds your throat again and you welcome it with appreciation, letting the young man tighten his grip on the side of you neck. “Little slut is so loud.” You shake your head from left to right, you didn’t want to be, one of your hands leave Mark’s body so you can bite down on it and hopefully muffle your noises. But, the young men doesn’t like this idea so much, his left hand now wraps around your wrist, and before you know it, it’s stuck to his bedframe.

You blink, did he just ? Did he just use his powers on you ?

From the slight smirk he has on his face, on the white, web-like substance around your wrist, he just did.

“I never said I didn’t like it.”, he muses, before his thumb sneaks in your mouth, forcing your mouth open. Then, he gives one particularly hard thrust, one that actually sends your body up his bed, one that has you moaning loud enough that his entire floor probably heard.

“Holy sh-. Do that again.”, you could beg, at this point, eyes watery, and he doesn’t hesitate do to so. Your second orgasm comes so quickly, clenching around him.

“So greedy, you’re gripping me.”, he articulates between clenched teeth, you know he’s as close, but you’re so lost in him that you just nod, you stop trying to free your hand and grip his dark locks, trying to archer yourself to something, anything. Half opened eyes search for his, you mumble about how close you are as his left hand finds the bed sheet. He doesn’t hide in your neck, Mark lets you hear exactly how good you make him feel, he lets you see him. The thin layer of sweat on his hairline, his locks messy from your hands, the rose hue over his chest, the red lines your created creeping on his sides.

“Make me feel so good, fuck.”, you babble, Mark pulls you closer to his chest, “Come around me, wanna feel you.”, and it’s all you need. Like an order your body registers in this split second, you come a second time, a second orgasm that leaves you breathless. The air is knocked out of your lungs, you’re sure the entire building heard you moan out Mark’s name.

On the other hand, the young men follows quickly behind you, only needed that one last clench for him to let the sinful liquid spill inside of you. He comes in a few long, moaning frantically. Visibility, it leaves him tired as well. Mark doesn’t even take his shaft out, his body lazily lays on top of you without crushing you, a reassuring weight on top of you own tired body. The both of you just lay there, tired and maybe a bit choked, surprised, in a good way. It’s when Mark chuckles next to you that you dare and look at him. Your hair’s probably a mess, lips red and wet, makeup ruined, but Mark still runs a hand on your cheek, a sweet gesture you lean into, reassured. “What ?”

It’s almost comical, how his eyes turn from sharp and lust-filled to the sweet and joyful eyes you grew up around, the one that remind you of home. He looks up at your wrist, still firmly stuck to the bed frame, you almost forgot about it.

“What do you call a spider into BDSM ?” 

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[dadsbongos]

how abt hajime saves antag reader from dying and that’s how she slowly starts to treat him decently and they somehow become kinda friends

Request for: Hajime Hinata Warnings: skin graft things (gore), self harm (hair pulling and scratching with intent to bleed), implications of verbal abuse, mental breakdown, fat game spoilers ~~~

“To think someone as stupid as you could build such mass weapons of destruction,” (Y/n) looked around the room, eyes catching on all the Monokumas Kazuichi had yet to dismantle and disarm. He had started with the small ones and wasn’t even half-finished yet.

“Hey,” Kazuichi whined, still working on taking apart a regular-sized Monokuma, “I’m not proud of them, y’know? That’s why I’m scrambling them.”

“No, I know,” she wandered over to the largest Monokuma, she was surprised it even fit inside the building it was so big, brushing her fingers over the cool metal, “This one’s falling apart.”

“Yeah, the bigger they are, the harder it is to keep maintenance, so I probably just gave up after a while,” the mechanic shrugged.

“Hm,” she hummed to herself, crossing her arms as she turned to face Kazuichi’s back completely, “I’m assuming that’s also why you rarely did such monsters.”

“Knowing me, yeah,” he gestured over his shoulder, still not looking at the girl, “Hubris is all that kept me making the big ones.”

“Typical.”

“What does that mean?!”

“Watch out!” a new voice entered the room, a hand grabbing (Y/n)’s arm and yanking her backward just in time for the arm of the monstrous Monokuma to clatter to the ground right where she had been standing.

Dread had sunk into the hearts of (Y/n) and Kazuichi - she would’ve been crushed to death if it wasn’t for… (Y/n) looked at the hand on her arm, following it to a face. If it wasn’t for Hajime.

Kazuichi immediately rushed towards the woman, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her as tears fell from his eyes and his lips quivered, “I’m so sorry, Miss (Y/n)! I should’ve been paying attention! I knew it was dangerous for you to be too close, I should’ve said something!”

“Let go of me, moron,” she smacked his hands off her shoulders, huffing before turning to Hajime and nodding curtly at him, “Thanks.”

Before anyone in the room could speak again, she charged out and into the hall.

Hajime sighed, “You save her life and she doesn’t even apologize for being an asshole.”

Kazuichi waved off the girl’s behavior and returned to his desk, “You should get away from that Monokuma.”

A creak from the giant robot was all the warning Hajime needed to get out as well.

~~

Teruteru had called everyone to dinner almost half an hour ago and even Hiyoko had come out to enjoy a meal with the others, but there was one person missing - (Y/n). 

Of course, Hajime thought as he went down the hall towards her room, she’s being difficult. She’s always like this. So difficult, so rude. Teruteru worked in that hot kitchen for hours on end so that everyone could eat together and obviously (Y/n) wouldn’t show up.

He knocked on her door, waiting for a few seconds. No answer.

He knocked again. No answer.

One last time. No answer.

Frustrated at the lack of response, Hajime took the doorknob in his hand, calling out, “I’m coming in!” before doing just that.

He expected to find her asleep in her bed or maybe the bathroom door would be shut and he’d have to shyly leave lest he gets called a weirdo for barging in. Instead, he found her sitting in front of her mirror, staring at her own reflection with unblinking eyes.

She was tracing her nails over the stitches left behind by Mikan in the wake of her skin graft. Her other hand was resting at her thigh, patting the bandages covering the donor site of her skin. Suddenly, her nails bit into the stitches on her cheek, scratching at the scarring and tearing at the threads. She cringed in pain but didn’t stop.

“Stop!” Hajime lunged forward, grabbing (Y/n)’s hand before she could completely rip through the stitched patches on her face, his brows furrowed, “What the hell are you thinking?!”

If he stopped to think about it, yelling at someone in an unstable spot like this probably wasn’t the best decision, but he wasn’t thinking.

(Y/n)’s eyes were wide, why did he care?

He already saved her life, wasn’t that enough? He had to save her face too? Why was he even in her room?

“Why does it matter?” she wheezed, stuck between laughing and crying, shaking her head all the same, “I was great! I was incredible! Now- now- now- now- now- “ she felt tears roll from her eyes and burn at the bleeding stitches, “I’m fucking horrific! I thought I was above all of you but lately, it’s just been fuck up after fuck up after fuck up- “

Taken advantage of by Junko Enoshima - the girl who never loved her.

Scarred and mangled face - done by her own hand.

Almost crushed to death - Hajime had to save her.

“Hiyoko laughs at me and you look down on me and Mikan judges my face every time I go in for a checkup and Kazuichi pitties me and Fuyuhiko thinks we’re the same and Ibuki’s scared of me and Akane hates me and Sonia thinks I’m evil and Junko never loved me and Junko never loved me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me and you look down on me,” she began rocking herself back and forth in her chair, fat sobs tearing through her chest and throat, hiccups ripping over her, “I’m a failure… I’m a failure… I’m a failure…”

“You’re just human,” Hajime knelt down to be eye-level with the woman, taking both her hands in his and making her keep eye contact with him, “You’re allowed to make mistakes and fuck up. You were tricked and manipulated by Junko, we all were. We get to make up for that now by restoring the world. Nobody hates you or judges your face.”

“You’re lying, I know it,” she stomped her feet like a petulant child, more tears stinging at her skin, “I should’ve been perfect. Mother always said I had to be perfect, father always wanted the daughter and that’s what I am! I have to be… I have to be…”

“Your parents are idiots if they think anyone could ever be perfect,” Hajime untangled one of his hands from their interlocked appendages to place it over his heart, “Even Izuru kind of sucks, he’s uncaring and doesn’t show appreciation for anything. Nobody’s perfect, (Y/n). You need to realize that whatever your parents told you was just overcritical bullshit and there’s nothing wrong with you,” his eyes flickered to her bleeding stitches, “I’ll get Mikan, sit tight.”

Her head fell in shame as Hajime left. Her fingers tapped on the bandages covering her donor site, feeling a faint sting at the contact. Of course, Izuru Kamukura would save her again. Or try to, at least.

God, did he have to be better than her at everything?

No, he wasn’t better. He wasn’t better. She was great.

Her hands shot up and twisted knots in her hair, yanking as hard as she could to shut her own thoughts up.

The door opened, Mikan hurrying through with a little white box in her hand. She shakily took (Y/n)’s hands away from her head, and held her chin to inspect the injured area.

“It’s not too b-bad, thankfully,” the nurse murmured, opening the box and unwinding some thread, “It sh-shouldn’t take me too long.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes, letting Mikan work and doing her best to act as if the pulling and pinching didn’t bother her. She wasn’t in pain. She was fine.

There no memories of causing despair with Mikan and Junko running through her head. There was never competition between her and Mikan for Junko’s love. There was no time that she felt inferior to Mikan.

She was fine.

She was fine.

Once Mikan left, Hajime escorted her out, the two muttering amongst themselves for a few minutes before Hajime nodded and returned to (Y/n)’s side. He lifted her from the chair and carried her to bed, largely disturbed by how little she protested, “I could get you some food, if you want? Teruteru made a lot.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) felt more tears rise to her eyes, “I want to cry.”

“Should I go?”

“No… yes… I don’t know…” she sniffled, hiccupping once again as she cried, “Izuru… what do I do…?”

“I wouldn’t know,” he sat by her on the bed, “I’m just Hajime Hinata, and besides, nobody can tell you how to deal with your emotions besides you. Or maybe a therapist.”

“Stay, please…”

“Then I will.”

~~

“Hiyoko laughed when I tripped on the beach this morning…”

“She’s always like that,” Hajime paused pouring the pancake batter into the pan to rethink his statement, “Well, she’s getting better. Slowly.”

“I keep screwing up,” she huffed, cracking an egg to pour the whites and yolk into a bowl. What she didn’t notice until after she’d already thrown out the broken shell and turned back to grab another egg, was that she’d accidentally gotten a speck of shell in the bowl. Pursing her lips, heat rushed to her cheeks.

Again.

It was just mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake after mistake- 

“Ah, I do that all the time,” Hajime peeked over the girl’s shoulder, grabbing a fork to press the bit of shell into the bowl and drag it up the side and out of the eggs, “See?” he removed the shell from the fork and threw it into the trash, “All better.”

(Y/n) stood there for a few more seconds, antsy as she watched him go about his business like she didn’t just ruin breakfast. Her throat swelled with dread and her hands grew sweaty, “I messed up. Aren’t you gonna do something about it?”

“Like?”

“I- “ she held her tongue, shaking her head, “I thought- “

“It’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with a mistake,” Hajime shook his head, “You’re human, you’re going to mess up. Now whisk the eggs before Teruteru finds us and gives us ‘advice’.”

“Right,” she nodded, turning back to the eggs.

Hajime pursed his lips as quiet settled over them. He learned a lot about her within the previous hours of the night. She wasn’t a monster, she’d just grown up with the wrong people. 

She’d done awful things and she’d make up for them in due time, the most she could anyway.

It was after she had passed out from crying and he went out to use the bathroom that Mikan would nervously, shakily utter the words that made everything click.

“I s-suspect she has a God complex stemming from overcritical parents…”

She was sick and needed help. 

They all did.

She probably took the manipulation from Junko hard. Probably as hard as Mikan if the muttered, heartbroken repetitions of “she never loved me” meant anything. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what those two girls went through at Junko’s hand.

Well, if it’d help, he would listen.

He wanted to help her. He wanted them all to heal and live better lives as they restored the world with the Future Foundation.

That would always include (Y/n). She was as deserving of healing as the rest of them. She was deserving of love. She wasn’t a heartless monster.

She was… becoming his friend.

[joshuas]

perfect

♫ pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

♫ genre: College/university student!au, slice-of-life, fluff

♫ word count: 3.5k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ summary: After wagering a date on the success of the New Year’s Formal he was tasked to plan, Hyunjin stops at nothing to ensure the perfect dance. 

♫ a/n: The fifth addition to my seasonal oneshots! This is a continuation from my Changbin oneshot. Enjoy! 

♫ skz seasonal oneshots: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“Okay! That wraps up our meeting for today. Remember, Ryujin, you’re in charge of invites, Jisung, you’re in charge of catering and Hyunjin, well, you’re the leader of this entire task force— you’re going to be the one to pull this entire thing together.” You stepped away from the whiteboard with your mind map of plans for the New Year’s Eve formal, giving the rest of the committee an encouraging smile as they all exited the classroom.

Hyunjin hung back, leaning casually against the desk next to you as you packed away your stuff. You rolled your eyes,

“Look, I know you asked me out two weeks ago but I already told you, Hyunjin. This dance is already taking up the majority of my headspace right now and I’m not ready to go on a date.”

“Oh, I know, Y/N. Seriously, don’t stress, I’ve got this all under control. We’ll be able to go out soon!” Hyunjin reassured you, giving you a quick peck on your cheek before skipping out of the classroom.

“I do not have it under control.” Hyunjin paced, Changbin observing the poor guy from the couch,

“I don’t have DJ ready, neither do I have decorations or photos, and the dance is in a week—“ Hyunjin stressed, putting his head in his hands.

“Hey, you know how this was supposed to be movie night? As your friend, I know I should be helping you but also man, why haven’t you gotten your life together?” Changbin got up, gesturing Hyunjin to sit in the seat opposite him.

“Well— I may or may not have been focused on trying to confess my feelings for Y/N?” Hyunjin said tentatively.

“Wait— you what? How come you never told me this?? How did it go?”

“Well...”

[2 weeks ago]

You sighed, holding your head in your hands as you tried to design the floor plan for the dance.

Someone cleared their throat, placing a steaming cup of coffee on the table before sitting opposite you in the cafe.

“Oh. Thank you, Hyunjin.” You blinked, surprised by his sudden kind gesture.

“It’s no problem! You’ve been working so hard on this dance, I personally think that you deserve a lot more than just coffee.” Hyunjin beamed, eyes crinkling.

You blushed, taking a quick sip at your coffee,

“So, are you just going to sit here and hang out or...?

“I really like you, Y/N.” Hyunjin blurted out before quickly covering his mouth.

Your head jolted up, a shocked silence falling over the two of you.

“You... what? Why are you telling me this now?”

“Ugh, I had this all planned out but my nerves took over. I was planning on telling you after the dance, but then my friend’s been asking me for love advice so I told him one thing and I felt like a hypocrite for not doing that myself so this confession just came out. I’m sorry.” Hyunjin spoke fast, hanging his head in defeat.

“Oh.” You blinked, surprised, “I’m going, to be honest with you, Hyunjin. I like you too and if this were any other time I would’ve suggested we go out sometime, but I’m just so wrapped up with the dance preparation that I barely have time to focus on anything else.” You looked at him apologetically.

“Oh!” He smiled, obviously surprised by your confession, “Well, if it’s taking up that much of your time, why don’t you leave some of that preparation to me?” Hyunjin suggested.

You looked at him sceptically,

“Hmm... I don’t know. It’s a lot of work, not to mention the pressure...”

“Seriously, Y/N! Look I’ll even wager this to show that you that I’ll do my absolute best— since I want to go on a date with you... desperately... I’ll only ask you out if the dance is up to your standards.” He said solemnly.

“A-are you sure?” You asked, shocked at his boldness.

“Positive. Anything to see you smile... and reduce your blood pressure.” He beamed before collecting your floorplan and heading out of the cafe.

I sure hope he knows what he’s doing...

“...so now there are high stakes on making this formal perfect.” Hyunjin sighed defeatedly.

“I thought Y/N liked you... why would you even think of doing that for them? You just made life harder for yourself!” Changbin sighed, exasperated.

“Because they’re a perfectionist, and focused, and smart, and beautiful— actually make that gorgeous.”

Changbin cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow.

Hyunjin flushed, looking away,

“I mean. It’s the only way I could’ve recovered from my shocking confession. It was hardly romantic at all.”

“So you basically volunteered yourself a lifetime’s worth of stress by taking over, planning wise?” Changbin asked, slightly incredulous.

“Well. They looked like they were doing a lot worse than me...” Hyunjin rubbed his neck sheepishly.

“You, sir, did not think this through properly. Ah, the things people do for love.” Changbin pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Wait, why are you annoyed?” Hyunjin looked at him confusedly.

“Yah! Since you told me all this, I’m practically obligated to help you. So... I guess I’ll give up my movie night to help you plan this thing.” Changbin sighed, exhausted.

“Oh my gosh, hyung, you’re a lifesaver.” Hyunjin gushed.

“Alright, alright. I’m practically a saint for being a decent human being, thank you. Now, should we start on the table centrepieces? What do you think? Hyacinths or peonies?” Changbin held up two gardening magazines.

“Oh, definitely peonies.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

“No...”

“I’m really glad that we could catch up. Although, I thought you were busy with the formal planning?” Your friend, Jeongin, held the café door open for you as you entered beside him.

“Oh, about that— Hyunjin may have offered to help out more.” You unwrapped your scarf, smiling at Chan as you approached the counter.

“Hwang Hyunjin offered to help you out? The same Hyunjin you’ve had a crush on for literally forever? Why?” Jeongin questioned, agape.

“It was kind of romantic, actually. He offered to help out after he said that he liked me and said that he would only ask me out if the dance is up to my standards.” You sighed dreamily. You had probably run over that day probably more than one hundred times over the last couple of days.

“Ew.” Jeongin scrunched his nose in disgust, paying for the coffees you had ordered.

You smiled knowingly, “It’s okay. You won’t understand until you fall for someone.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen for a while. You know, a slight change of topic from this sickening conversation... I’ve been thinking of taking up trot singing...” Jeongin droned on, oblivious to your shift in interest to the people entering the cafe.

“Y/N? Are you even listening to—“ You broke him off, placing a finger to your lips, gesturing towards the people talking to Chan, focusing on their conversation.

“Hey, guys! How can I help you?” Chan beamed at Hyunjin and Changbin.

You approached the three, Jeongin scurrying after you curiously,

“Hey... how’s the planning going? Do you need help?” You asked, raising your eyebrow.

“Oh, heyyy Y/N. Yeah, it’s going fantastically!” Hyunjin reassured, trying to casually lean against the counter, but slipping against it instead.

“Oh! Okay. Have you been able to find a DJ?” You asked.

“We were actually just—“ Hyunjin broke off as Changbin cut in,

“Oh, we already have one.”

Hyunjin glared pointedly at Changbin. You looked between the two of them, confused,

“Really? What’s his stage name?”

“He prefers to remain anonymous. You’ll find out on the day!” Changbin reassured.

“We will? I mean. We will.” Hyunjin nodded resolutely.

“Okay... well I guess we’ll leave the two of you to it. Chan, we’ll see you at the dance, right?” You asked.

“Yep! I’ll be bringing my partner along as well - as my date.” Chan beamed, waving as you exited the cafe with Jeongin.

“Bye...” Hyunjin sighed, exhaustedly.

“Ugh, my knees hurt. Who knew how much you would have to beg Minho hyung to help out?” Hyunjin rolled his shoulders, stretching all his ligaments.

“At least you weren’t the one to babysit his cats whilst he went on a date.” Changbin sighed, brushing hair off his jumper.

“It’s hopeless... you know, we were able to recruit most people but it was our friends that demanded the most of us. What was it that Felix wanted again? To add a pick-up line mic-drop competition to the formal?” Hyunjin rubbed his temples.

“Hey, Seungmin! Fancy seeing you here!” Changbin waved at the man at a distance in front of them. After the cafe interaction they had with Y/N, Changbin and Hyunjin had decided to go on a “stroll” around the park nearby, “unintentionally” running into medical student, but also part-time photographer, Kim Seungmin.

“Hyunjin, Changbin hyung. How are you guys?”

Hyunjin and Changbin scanned the area quickly before dragging Seungmin and his photography equipment behind a large tree.

Grabbing Seungmin by the shoulders, Hyunjin looked him dead in the eyes,

“Look, Seungmin. I know you quit the formal committee, but we may need your help...”

You stepped out of your car, gazing at the entrance, “I don’t know about you, Jeongin, but I’m really excited to see how this formal’s turned out!” You entered the hall, gaping at the sight in front of you.

It was...

“A disaster! A complete and utter disaster! Why would we enlist Minho hyung’s help? Did we seriously forget his track record?” Hyunjin slapped his forehead, looking in horror at the mismatched and oddly draped streamers, the tables arranged in no orderly fashion within the hall.

“Hey, you’re the one that begged him to help.” Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, looking disapprovingly at Hyunjin.

“Yeah, if Y/N sees this, you’re definitely going to be kicked off the committee and you can basically say goodbye to your date,” Seungmin noted.

“Whatever— we can fix this, right? We only have...” Hyunjin checked his watch, “six hours till the formal.”

“Logically speaking, it’s slightly possible... just how are we supposed to organise it?” Changbin asked, looking pointedly at Hyunjin.

“Go with a classy theme. Y/N’s a sucker for an old-fashioned ballroom feel.” Seungmin responded almost immediately.

“How do you know that?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Seungmin blushed, clearing his throat,

“When you’ve been part of the same clubs since high school, you get to know what a person likes. Especially theme-wise.”

“So how should we start?” Hyunjin asked.

“First, get rid of these god-awful streamers. Rule number one, avoid tackiness at all costs — that means not shopping at the party section of your local Target.” Seungmin gestured towards the... disaster hall.

“And second, grab me a calligraphy pen and lots of cardboard — we’re going rustic for table placements. While you’re reorganising the room, adding drapes and what-not, I’ll call Ryujin and ask for the invitees. Y/N will never know what happened.” Seungmin decided resolutely, gesturing to the two of them to start.

“One question... why are you so keen on helping out?” Hyunjin crossed his arms over his chest, sceptical.

“You basically kidnapped me into helping,” Seungmin said monotonously.

“Don’t say it like that... it was more like voluntary cooperation?”

“Kidnapping.”

“It looks so beautiful! I feel like royalty at a fancy ball.” You said, awestruck.

“Hyunjin hyung didn’t do half bad... I guess that’s some points to add to his character in my books.” Jeongin notes appraisingly.

“Oh my goodness! Look at the food! Are those brownies?” You gasped in awe.

“Next to the chocolate fountain? Yes please.” Jeongin steered you over to the food assortment.

“Jisung, what do you mean you forgot to contact the catering company?!” Hyunjin said, his irritation showing as he stood glaring down at the shorter boy.

“I’m sorry! I’ve just had to deal with a lawsuit and—“ Hyunjin interrupted an apologetic Jisung,

“Hang on... a lawsuit? Actually, you know what, never mind. Ugh! Why is this formal falling to literal pieces?” Hyunjin pulled at his hair, irritated.

“Hyung... might I suggest an alternative? They’re just as good a chef as any catering company.” Jisung suggested tentatively. 

“I swear to God, Jisung. If they’re one of your friends, I’m going to—“

“They’re also your friends so you can’t do anything— might I suggest, Kim Seungmin and Felix Lee? They’re practically campus royalty for their cooking vlogs.” Jisung suggested, slightly smug.

“Aren’t they notorious for their cooking fails?” Hyunjin asked, both confused and sceptical.

“You say failure, but the result is beautiful. Just trust me on this, hyung. It’ll be fine.”

“Yah! You’re adding too much butter!” Hyunjin noted frantically, as Seungmin brushed down a brownie tin.

“Obviously you haven’t seen our pancake vlogs. They turn out just fine. And besides, they’re brownies. No one would notice if they were a little bit overcooked.” Felix said confidently.

“Um. By a little overcooked, you mean burnt. And yes! People with functioning taste buds would!” Hyunjin sighed in annoyance.

“He’s a little bit stressed, as you can see. He put his relationship with Y/N on the line for this formal to run perfectly.” Seungmin explained to Felix.

“Ahh... okay. Not to worry, Hyunjin hyung! Everything will turn out well.” Felix patted Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“What were you thinking about savoury appetisers? Is bruschetta too fancy?” Felix suggested.

“I sure hope you two know what you’re doing...”

“The brownies are delicious! We need to get the same caterers for the next fundraising event.” You praised, making a note to ask Hyunjin and Jisung.

“Smile for the camera, please!” You turned around, face to face with Seungmin and his camera.

“Oh! Hey, Seungmin. I thought you weren’t going to do any more council stuff. You were hired to do the photography for the dance?” You asked, confused.

He laughed hollowly,

“More like kidnapped, but we won’t get into that.”

“Okay! I think we’ve gotten everything sorted — Changbin has the DJ organised, catering is done and is actually half-decent, and the decor is sorted.” Hyunjin dusted his hands, looking at the hall in awe.

“...Not so fast. You haven’t gotten everything sorted.” Seungmin said.

“What do you mean? We’ve got everyth— oh. Photography.” Changbin slapped his forehead.

“Hmm... I wonder where we could find a photographer readily available...” Hyunjin and Changbin looked pointedly at Seungmin.

“What? No. I have other things that I need to do.” Seungmin inched backwards towards the exit as Hyunjin nodded at Changbin.

Wrapping him up in a big hug, Changbin stopped Seungmin as Hyunjin quickly grabbed the photography equipment off him.

“Please, Seungmin? I’ll owe you big time.” Hyunjin pleaded as Seungmin threw his hands up in defeat,

Seungmin sighed tiredly,

“...You do owe me... big time. I wish I could say no but seeing how much this means to you, I guess I can’t. Alright, can you stop manhandling me?”

“Don’t lie, my hugs are legendary.”

“Hyung, you’re flattering yourself.”

“Oh? Well, you’re an excellent photographer so I don’t doubt that the photos will turn out well.” You smiled, waving before heading towards the sound stage.

“Hey, Chan. Oh? Were you planning on dancing with your partner?” You looked at his formalwear.

He gave you a small smile, lifting his equipment to the sound booth,

“That... was the plan, originally! But um. I guess life never really works out as planned.”

“Oh? I thought that the DJ wanted to remain anonymous. I didn’t know it was you...” You said confusedly.

“Hey man, what are you doing in my sound booth?” A shabby looking guy approached, duffel bag in hand.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” A stressed Hyunjin ran up, eyes wide as he stared down the shabby-looking guy.

“Hyunjin, right? Changbin contacted me and told me that I’d be the DJ at this gig.” The guy stepped towards Chan — it would’ve been threatening but his outfit really did not help his cause.

“Look, it’s just that you were the... backup DJ. Yeah! When Chan’s out there, dancing with his partner, you’ll be taking—“ Hyunjin broke off, looking to the stage.

“Helloooo everyone! I’m not in charge of this formal or anything but I heard there was going to be a pick-up line competition, so I’m here to participate. Let me start you guys off—“ Hyunjin sprinted onto the stage, snatching the microphone from a confused Felix, skidding as the momentum carried him forward, off the stage, causing him to land... on his shin.

You winced, running over, Seungmin meeting you there,

“Hyunjin, are you okay?”

Moaning in painful response, he winced as Seungmin lifted his arm around his shoulder, semi-carrying (more dragging) him towards the exit,

“Obviously he’s not. I’m going to take him to the ER. Meet us there.” Seungmin said calmly.

You addressed the crowd, laughing awkwardly,

“Nothing to see here, folks. Just... get back to the dance.” You turned towards Chan,

“Entertain the crowd whilst we’re gone.” You said hurriedly before rushing out to drive to the hospital.

“Hi, I’m here to see Hwang Hyunjin. Is he okay? Can I see him?” You asked the receptionist hurriedly, looking frantically around the waiting room.

“Y/N! We’re here.” You whipped around, seeing a passed out Hyunjin in a wheelchair being attended by Seungmin.

“Oh! Seungmin, thank god you’re here! We need your help. The hospital’s so short staffed right now that even the students are required to help out.” A person rushed over to Seungmin, handing him a doctor’s coat.

“Okay. I’ll admit Hyunjin. Y/N, you can go back to the formal if you want. You’re not going to be able to visit him for a couple of hours.” Seungmin threw on his coat, calling a nurse over to push Hyunjin, waving as he entered the ER.

You sighed, sitting on a nearby plastic chair.

This is going to be a long night... I hope he’s okay.

“Excuse me? You were asking for Mr Hwang before? He’s allowed visitors now.” A nurse tapped your shoulder, leading you towards his room.

You gasped at his casted leg, your gaze drifting to his tired smile, eye-bags his most notable feature,

“You... don’t look great.”

“Yeah, didn’t really get much sleep over the last couple of days. Well... except for the anaesthetic driven ‘sleep’ during surgery. I don’t think that counts, though...” He chuckled shortly.

Silently, you sat beside him on the bed.

“I probably ruined everything. The formal was a complete flop.” He sighed, hanging his head.

“Look, I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t the most... organised event I’ve been to, but I heard a lot of positive feedback from the guests in attendance, and from what I saw, the dance was practically perfect— from the food to the decorations.” You gave him a soft smile.

“To be fair, it was mostly Seungmin that helped out. I didn’t really do much.” He said, sheepishly.

“Hey, you used the resources available to you. Seungmin knows what he’s doing, and I’m not saying that you don’t, but I’m glad that you got help from him. The dance was perfect due to both of you.” You said resolutely.

“Wait— is the dance over? How long was I out for?” He asked, incredulous.

“I don’t think it is. You were out for almost seven hours. There’s... five minutes till New Years.” You checked your watch.

“I’m sorry that you’re spending New Years with me...” He gave you a forced, small smile.

“Whaaat? Nooo it was my dream to spend New Years at the hospital with the guy that I’m going to go out with because he broke his leg by falling off a stage. What was Felix doing, by the way?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a long story— I think he wanted to have a pick-up line competition with his significant other... hang on. Did you just say that you wanted to go out with me?” He asked, incredulous.

“Well, there isn’t anyone else here, and I did say that the dance was perfect.” You pointed out.

Cheers arose outside the room, choruses of ‘Happy New Year’ echoing throughout the hospital corridors.

“I guess it’s New Years... did you know that it’s unlucky not to kiss someone on New Years?” You smirked slightly.

“Well, who am I to start your year off unlucky?” He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours briefly before pulling away, slightly wincing.

“Oh— are you okay? Do you need anything?” You fussed.

“Just... more kisses?” Hyunjin pointed at his cheek.

You chuckled,

“Sure... can I ask for something, though?”

“What is it?” He asked, eyes wide.

“Let’s go on a date today. I know you’ll only be able to eat hospital food, but I heard that the pudding cups are delicious.” You suggested.

“That sounds... perfect.”

➳ part six?  |  masterlist!

[arcticdementor]

I recently had Robin Hanson on the CSPI podcast to talk about futarchy. It’s one thing to spread knowledge on a particular issue, it’s another to invent a new technology to create more knowledge in the world, and help apply it where needed. That’s what I see Robin doing. He convinced me that although it may take a very long time, one day humanity will give less of a role to systems like peer review and unaccountable bureaucracy in determining how we understand the world, and more of a role to prediction markets. The logic is just too compelling. But sooner is better than later, and if you want to be involved, please reach out.

…

The first step towards this glorious future is convincing people that a world where more decisions are made based on prediction markets is desirable and achievable. In that spirit, below is a transcript of our conversation, lightly edited for clarity. To read more about futarchy, see here.

…

Robin: Right. This conditional market mechanism hasn't actually been tested out in the world outside of the laboratory tests in that we haven't been able to get people interested enough to try it. We've had a lot of tests of speculative markets that aren't conditional in the sense that we've had markets on deadlines, whether you make a deadline in sales and things like that.

We've probably had 100 different trials like that over the last few decades. Typically what happens is that if there's enough support for the market in order to induce an affectivity then again the price is about as accurate or more accurate than the status quo and most users are satisfied. The costs are modest. That's been the history for many decades.

However a key problem is usually the market gets killed in the sense that an organization says to stop and doesn't continue it. The main reason is that it's relatively disruptive. These markets are politically disruptive. The way they are disruptive is analogous to, imagine you put a very knowledgeable autist in the C suite, that is somebody in the C suite that knows a lot about the company and they go to the meetings. They just blurt out when they know things that it's relevant to the conversation but they have no political savvy.

They have no sense of, what does anybody want to hear, or who will be bothered by anything they say. That sort of an autist would not last long in the C-suite. They would be shunted aside and become an advisor to someone perhaps, trusted advisor to their side but they wouldn't be allowed to speak in the boardroom. But that's what a prediction market is. It has no idea who wants to hear what it has to say.

It will often say things that people do not want to hear, and that embarrass them, and that contradict what they've said. Then all the worse of course it will be proven right.

Richard: Yeah. But what's stopping the autist, or I guess what's stopping them is nobody has just done this yet? But theoretically you could imagine the autist setting up the rules for the corporation, right?

Robin: You might if they were in charge at the beginning sure.

…

Robin: Now we move to the question of like, what fraction of companies out there are actually maximizing profits?

Richard: Yeah.

Robin: It’s a very basic question in economics and in our world. We economists tend to assume as a simple initial working model that organizations that are for profit actually do maximize profits. That's the thing they usually do. If you give them a choice of A or B, and B is higher profit they'll choose B.

Here if you apply that model you say, “Well, this looks like it would give them key information to make key decisions like, ‘Will we make the deadline,’ and it will be valuable. The cost is relatively low so of course they would do it.” That's what you would say if you were applying that theory. Then here we have a case where it looks like, well it hasn't happened yet.

You might think, “Okay, innovation is slow. It takes a while,” but we’ve been waiting several decades. Honestly if I look across a wide range of other areas of corporate behavior I can't fully support this profit maximizing theory. I think I can find a lot of other places where what they do does not maximize profits.

I could give you a long list of examples. We could go through some of those but then the question is, “Well, how do I come to terms with it? What theory do I have affirms in the absence of profit maximizing to explain the behavior?”

…

Robin: I mean I think in fact the correct response is to say the free market version is probably the best. You just have no idea how much worse things can be. People often look at the status quo of a business world say that is relatively free market. They look at this up close and they go, “This looks terrible how could you possibly be defending this?”

The argument has to be, “Well, it would just be so much worse without this.” And in fact often if you look to large stable organizations like universities and government agencies, or churches that have been around for a long time it is in fact worse. I think that's roughly right. Another story might be we've hobbled some of the competition between firms that might solve some of these problems.

I honestly think one of the biggest wins we could do is to just allow stronger hostile takeovers. The laws at the moment make it harder to do hostile takeovers. They require a substantial tax on them in essence. If you see a badly run company and you have an idea how it could be run better the problem is how are you going to profit on that? But if you could just buy up the company, change its management and then sell it again after it was better that would be a big, powerful engine for making it better.

There have been times when that mechanism has been allowed to do more and it has made huge changes. That's what inspired people to lock it down and prevent those changes because they were scared it was coming for them.

…

Richard: I've seen stuff like who will win the tip off in basketball, and who's going to win the coin toss in a football game? Who's going to win first quarter?

Robin: I once looked onto doing this for war college war games. As you may know many war colleges have war games where they put teams on different sides and give them various equipment in a simulated war. They have them go to war. You could imagine, well letting everybody else who’s watching the war game give advice about particular strategies in the war game. That seemed plausible to me but then when I talked to people at war colleges I found that most of these war games are kind of fake.

Richard: Yeah.

Robin: They have a predetermined outcome that’s some lesson they want to tell, and so they aren't really letting it be open to winning one side or the other.

Richard: No, that's funny because you'll see headlines every now and then that'll say, “Oh, my God. The US loses to China in a war game,” and yeah I always thought that that’s…

Robin: I’m sure there probably are real war games somewhere. They just aren't at the war colleges. That's where I was thinking I could convince somebody to try this sort of thing.

…

Richard: What is the advantage of the blockchain? What is the difference between a blockchain say market versus just something like PredictIt?

Robin: Well, that's an excellent question. Initially the story was that blockchain was out of control, that it couldn't be regulated so you could set up a system on a blockchain. If the regulators didn't like it they didn't have anybody to go to stop it. The blockchain just kept going regardless of who didn't like it.

That was a big selling point. People said, “Well, look at all this financial innovation we can do because we are free from existing regulations on the blockchain.” That's what they said, and then a lot of companies formed on this basis.

But these companies didn't take personal strategies to match that rhetoric. You would think if your plan was to put a product on the blockchain and that you were going to say nanny nanny to the regulators because, “You can’t get me,” you wouldn’t have a big public presence with the headquarters, and your picture in the magazines, and show up in person at conferences right? Because…

Richard: Yeah. Sure.

Robin: ...well, that makes you more obviously a target right? That's what they did though, and then they sort of back pedaled and said later, “Oh, we're following all the regulations.” But you know people don’t really believe that. It's been this big question, to what extent will governments crack down on these blockchain things that at least from the government regulators point of view are not following their rules?

Richard: Yeah. Do you have in mind the Coinbase news that had come out the last few days, or was it today or yesterday that-

Robin: This is just a continuing issue. I don't have any particular recent event in mind but there are lots of stories about regulators thinking of doing a lot more regulating and cracking down more. This is a big question about blockchain is how far will they crack down, and what will be the consequences? Of course people say, “Well, in principle Bitcoin can keep chugging along even if they do crack down,” and no doubt that's true to some degree.

But the question of how much activity there'll be is still somewhat open. You could have it chugging along with a far lower activity because a lot of people have been discouraged.

…

Robin: Let me at this point admit what I would say is the biggest problem with futarchy and with some of these other decision markets, which is that they make hypocrisy harder, which is actually a problem. You might think, “Well, hypocrisy is a bad thing. Making it harder is good right?” Well, let’s walk through that.

At the moment, say ordinary people can claim to love trees and they just care a lot about trees. Trees real estate wonderful and they certainly wouldn’t want to have fewer trees. But then they elect politicians who have to make choices about trees versus other things. Those politicians can probably read the public and say, “Well, they say they like trees but they don’t really like trees that much, so I’m not actually going to go save some trees by interfering with something else.”

Then if the public ever finds out that somehow not everything was being done to save trees, the public can complain and say, “That damn politician! They’re corrupt! They were bought out and I sure hate them. Let’s throw them out of office,”right? Because the politician is allowing the public to be hypocritical, to pretend they care more about trees than they do.

…

Robin: The pandemic was not a big enough crisis that we fired people who did badly on it. Neither was Afghanistan. We’re in a world where we have these big things we do wrong but they somehow just aren’t bad enough to really scare us into trying different things. The question is where will we ever see some nation or big organization that’s scared enough about losing to be willing to roll the dice and try some big changes?

Richard: When you look at the American Military established under World War II I mean the military establishment was a new thing. You were building basically something from scratch. Now you have all these vested interests. You know it’s funny. The places, the countries with the most US Military… the most military personnel in the world are actually Italy, Germany, Japan, and South Korea right?

Robin: Those are risky, dangerous spots. You’d want troops there wouldn’t you?

Richard: Yeah. Well, maybe but if you notice they have something in common. Those are the Axis powers and the Korean War right?

Robin: Right.

Richard: Basically they’re the exact same place they were in 1945 to 1950 and so-

Robin: Hysteresis right? Enormous path dependence?

Richard: Yeah, exactly. Enormous dependence. Yeah, Italy. Is that obvious? The most dangerous place in the world. Maybe, maybe not.

Robin: No, and it’s not remotely obviously the most dangerous place in the world.

Richard: Yeah. Do you look around the world, and right now do you see variation in the extent to which countries are willing to not only take risks but take risks specifically along the path that you suggest?

[jessiebanethedragon]

Scuttle (4/?)

Big thanks to all those reading this!!!! hope you enjoy part four ❤️ 

also warning of talk about Hutt reproduction for comedic purposes (sorry...)

You wake to the sound of a very angry sniper. And even though his default setting is angry, he seems more perturbed than usual. Muffled voices can be heard from outside the small bunk area that you’ve already made your personal space. Wet, destroyed clothes sit on the floor in the corner and you’re wrapped only in Crosshairs blanket, save for your undergarments. You swing your legs over and plant them on the cold metal floor.  As you reach the door, the  voices become clearer.

“Absolutely not.”  - That's Crosshair for sure, only he would be so blunt. 

“I wasn't asking for your permission Crosshair, only your opinion.” The other voice is more of a long sigh at this point. The exhaustion and caring sound to it tells you it’s Hunter. For clones they are all remarkably different, you think to yourself. 

“Yeah and my opinion is ‘no’.” Crosshair snaps. 

“The seppies will come after her whether you like it or not.” He counters. 

“Which is why we can’t take her into bounty hunter territory!” You freeze as you realize they mean you. Panic settles in when you come to terms with the idea of being ditched on some degenerate planet with non resources whatsoever. You retreat back into the bunk, pulling the blanket closer to your frame. 

“Just get her up.” Hunter finishes and you hear him walk back down the halfway of the ship. Crosshair grumbles something about not being in charge of you before the door slides open. He’s shocked to see you sitting up and awake, and his eyes rest on the pile of clothes on the floor before meeting yours. His blanket looks far better on you than it has in all his years of owning it.

“Food’s up.” He says before turning to leave. Less time spent interacting with you the better. Means less time for him to stare at the one exposed shoulder that the blanket has fallen off of and less time to wonder if you’d ever spare someone like him a second glance. 

“Where are you dumping me?” He hears a small voice ask. And all the warmth leaves his body. 

“We aren't…” He starts, not turning around. Because if he doesn’t turn around he can claim ignorance if you're crying or not. 

“I heard you and Hunter and i’m not stupid.” You interrupt him, voice void of any emotion. 

“Then you'd know i'm not going to let him do that.” He snaps, almost angry at you for thinking he’d leave you on your own. 

“I’m deadweight, aren't I?” It's a question you know the answer to but have to ask anyways. You want to scream at the republic, for using your intel and then throwing you away. Taking advantage of your selflessness and empathy, just like they take advantage of  the clones caring and giving nature at every opportunity. 

“You’re not deadweight.” Crosshair states, leaving no room for argument, “You just need to be somewhere off the grid for a while.” He hears you stand, and slowly he turns his head, his blanket bunched awkwardly around your frame. His jaw clenches as his heart pulls at strings he swore weren't there. 

“Crosshair…” You start, but don’t continue, words escape you, the right ones don’t exist in that moment. Or at least you can't bring yourself to use the ones you want to. So instead, you opt to blankly stare at the metal floor. He will leave eventually, turn and head out the door. You’re not his problem, your brain explains this as the floor becomes more and more interesting.  Except he doesn't go. And the very tips of his fingers meet your chin, gently pulling your head to meet his glance.  

God his eyes are stunning, you think, before cursing your brain for being in the totally wrong place at the wrong time. But his eyes might be the prettiest you’ve ever seen. Light brown with hints of ashy tones. 

“I won't leave you on your own.” He tells you, but what you want to hear is that he will stay with you. You're already inexplicably attached to the sniper, it's unbearable. 

“Thank you.” You whisper to him breathless just from being this close to him. 

“Now come on, or Wrecker will have eaten everything before you even get out there.” Crosshair cocks his head towards the door, pulling away from you. 

The members of the hold greet you excitedly, Wrecker seems to have really taken to calling you little bird as well as patting your head affectionately. And you find yourself sat wedge in between him and Tech while they both talk your ear off. Hunter is smiling and eating in contentment of his little family and Crosshair is starring, you fit so nicely in this scene. Wrecker piling more and more food on your plate while you laugh at Techs retelling of one of their ridiculous missions. 

“Tell er’ about Nal Hutta!” Wrecker says with an evil smile.

“Don’t you dare.” Crosshair snaps at his vod, who's already laughing his blacks off. 

“It wasn't that bad Cross.” Hunter admits grabbing some empty dishes and patting his shoulder as he walks by. 

“Yes it was!” Wrecker says between wheezes. And you notice the faint flush in his cheeks. 

“Okay one of you needs to spill the details.” You demand looking from Tech to Wrecker. 

“Well, as you probably know Nal Hutta is run by the infamous Hut cartel…” Tech launches off, waving his hands about as he talks. (you've picked this up as one of his biggest habits.) 

“Tech…” Crosshair groans with his face in one of his hands before giving in and leaning back. Preparing for the worst. 

“I can't tell you all the details, classified and all, but the important part is that Cross was working recon and cover, like usual. So he's up this step mountain that's basically all dirt and sand. Looking for this Hut fellow right, and before we can warn him Wrecker throws this thermal detonator and the whole side of the mountain collapses.” Tech tells you excitedly. And your worried eyes look across the table. Crosshair had moved so he could lean back with his arms behind his head looking just a tad embarrassed. 

“He would've been fine, if he hadn't gone rolling right through the window of the house he was collecting intel on.” Wrecker was killing himself laughing by this point. 

“And then the… the” He tried to get out between gasps of air before waving it off and letting Tech continue. 

“And well, sorry Cross, there's no easy way to say this.” Tech laughed a little himself. “He rolled right in on a Hutt reproducing session.” Your eyes went as wide as they could, and a hand covered your gaping and giggling mouth. 

“Wait, so Crosshair burst in on two Hutts doing it?” You gasped, trying to stifle your growing laughter. 

“Gets worse.” The man in question grit out, looking at the mess of comrades before him. 

“How does that get worse?” You exclaimed, leaning into Wrecker with his contagious laughter. Tech turned to you, smiling wider than ever. 

“Hutts reproduce asexually.” He stated, “scientists don't know too much about it but from the condition we found this one in.” he pointed to a grumpy Crosshair. “It gets real messy.” You closed your mouth into a thin line, blinking as you tried not to laugh. 

“Oh…” Giggle “no, Crosshair…” More giggles. “That must’ve been awful.” You tried to emphasize you really did, but the look on the snipers face had you laughing all over again. 

“He was covered head to toe in green Hutt goo!”  Wrecker boomed. 

“Well it’s nice to know yet another finds my torment hilarious.” Crosshair grumbled as he stood up to escape the laughing hyenas before him. 

“No!” you objected, “I promise I am not finding this the least bit funny.” You told him, trying to keep a straight face. Receiving a sarcastic ‘um hum’ reply. 

“I mean it, you could have been seriously injured.” You countered, thinking you had successfully hidden your smile beneath your hand. 

“I can see you smiling.” He said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You could've drowned in Hutt goo…” You quietly said with another round of giggles. 

“Ahhh yes CT-7733 of Clone Force 99 killed in action on Nal hutta, death caused by drowning in Hutt goo.” Tech snickered from beside you. 

“He will be dearly missed, and as an apology the Hutt has named the child in his honour.”  You added taking note of Crosshairs millionth eye roll of that morning alone. 

“Okay that's enough of that now.” He said. “Wren, you want clothes or are you spending the rest of your life in my blanket?” He teases, watching you blush a tad. 

“I don't take life advice from a man covered in goo.” You shoot back with the biggest smirk on your face. 

“No clothes for you then.” he smiled as your protests began. 

“Okay, okay, calm down, don’t get your goo in a tuffle.” You say maneuvering yourself from with the blanket and over Wrecker who's still chuckling to himself.  

Down back in your makeshift room, Crosshair shows you where the extra clothes are kept, which means you’ll be swimming in extra sets of blacks all meant for clones that are bigger than yourself. But you think your pants may survive given a good enough wash, so for now you roll the waistband and the legs until you look somewhat presentable. Greeting Crosshair on the other side of the door.  

“See,”  He says, “told ya’ it would fit.” Before he turns from you and starts to walk back down the hall. 

“Wait Crosshair!” You call jogging over to him, a look of fau-concentration on your face as you reach up to where his short hair meets his right ear. Carefully running your fingers through it. He knows his heart has either stopped beating or hammering so fast he can’t feel it. 

“There, all good now.” you declare patting his cheek a few times. Hoping he inquires as to why you just had your hand in his hair. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before deciding on: 

“What was that for?” and if there was an inter-galactic clone flirting competition, Crosshair just lost. You grin up at him, pure evil  in your eyes. 

“Oh no reason,”You say walking past. “Just a little leftover Hutt goo.” 

tags: @mangoberry43 @imalovernotahater @professionaltrashcompactor @vesperstalksclones @haloangel391 

and: Thinking the next chapter might be longer but be out of order in relevance to these chapters... thoughts? questions? comments? etc???

[itsclydebitches]

Enola Holmes: A Not So Elementary Adaptation

It's cliché and a bit unfair to say that the book was better than the film, but I'm afraid that's precisely where I need to start. Nancy Springer's Enola Holmes: The Case of the Missing Marquess is leagues better than Netflix's adaptation of it. They did her work dirty and to say that I'm shocked at the accolades other reviewers are heaping on the film is an understatement. Before I dive into any critiques though, it's worth acknowledging that not every minute of the two hour film was painful to get through. So what worked in Enola Holmes?

The film is carried by the talent of its cast, Millie Bobby Brown being the obvious heavy-hitter. She helps breathe life into a pretty terrible script and it's only a shame her talent is wasted on such a subpar character.

The idea to have Enola continually break the fourth wall, though edging into the realm of Dora the Explorer at times—"Do you have any ideas?"— was nevertheless a fun way to keep the audience looped into her thought process. Young viewers in particular might enjoy it as a way to make them feel like a part of the action and older viewers will note the Fleabag influence. 

The cinematography is, perhaps, where most of my praise lies. The rapid cuts between past and present, rewinding as Enola thinks back to some pertinent detail, visualizing the cyphers with close ups on the letter tiles—all of it gave the film an upbeat, entertaining flair that almost made up for how bloated and meandering the plot was.

We got an equally upbeat soundtrack that helped to sell the action. 

The overall experience was... fine. In the way a cobbled together, candy-coated, meant to be seen on a Friday night but we watched it Wednesday and then promptly forgot about it film is fine. I doubt Enola Holmes will be winning any awards, but it was a decently entertaining romp and really, does a Netflix film need to be anything more? If Enola was her own thing made entirely by Netflix's hands I wouldn't be writing this review. As it stands though, Enola is both an adaptation and the latest addition to one of the world’s most popular franchises. That's where the film fails: not as a fun diversion to take your mind off Covid-19, but as an adaptation of Springer's work and as a Sherlock Holmes story.

In short, Enola Holmes, though pretty to look at and entertaining in a predictable manner, still fails in five crucial areas: 

1. Mycroft is Now a Mustache-Twirling Villain and Sherlock is No Longer Sherlock Holmes

This aspect is the least egregious because admittedly the film didn't pull this version of Mycroft out of thin air. As the head of the household he is indeed Enola's primary antagonist (outside of some kidnappers) and though he insists that he's doing all this for Enola's own good, he does get downright cruel at times:

He rolled his eyes. “Just like her mother,” he declared to the ceiling, and then he fixed upon me a stare so martyred, so condescending, that I froze rigid. In tones of sweetest reason he told me, “Enola, legally I hold complete charge over both your mother and you. I can, if I wish, lock you in your room until you become sensible, or take whatever other measures are necessary in order to achieve that desired result... You will do as I say" (Springer 69).

Mycroft's part is clear. He's the white, rich, powerful, able-bodied man who benefits from society's structure and thus would never think to change it. He does legally have charge over both Enola and Eudoria. He can do whatever he pleases to make them "sensible"... and that right there is the horror of it. Mycroft is a law-abiding man whose antagonism stems from doing precisely what he's allowed to do in a broken world. There are certainly elements of this in the Netflix adaptation, but that antagonism becomes so exaggerated that it's nearly laughable. Enola's governess (appointed by Mycroft) slaps her across the face the moment she speaks up. Mycroft screams at her in a carriage until she's cowering against the window. He takes her and throws her into a boarding school where everything is bleak and all the women dutifully follow instructions like hypnotized dolls. Enola Holmes ensures that we've lost all of Springer's nuance, notably the criticism of otherwise decent people who fall into the trap of doing the "right" (read: expected) thing. Despite her desire for freedom, in the novel Enola quickly realizes that she is not immune to society's standards:

"I thought he was younger.” Much younger, in his curled tresses and storybook suit. Twelve! Why, the boy should be wearing a sturdy woollen jacket and knickers, an Eton collar with a tie, and a decent manly haircut—

Thoughts, I realised, all too similar to those of my brother Sherlock upon meeting me (113-14).

She is precisely like her brothers, judging a boy for not looking and acting enough like a man just as they judged her for not looking and acting enough like a lady. The difference is that Enola has chaffed enough against those expectations to realize when she's falling prey to them, but the sympathetic link to her brothers remains. In the film, however, the conflict is no longer driven by fallible people doing what they think is best. Rather, it's made clear (in no uncertain terms) that these are just objectively bad people. Only villains hit someone like that. Only villains will scream at the top of their lungs until a young girl cries. Only villains roll their eyes at women's rights (a subplot that never existed in the novel). Springer writes Mycroft as a person, Netflix writes him as a cartoon, and the result is the loss of a nuanced message about what it means to enact change in a complicated world.  

Which leaves us with Sherlock. Note that in the above passage he is the one who casts harsh judgement on Enola's outfit. Originally Mycroft took an interest in making Enola "sensible" and Sherlock— in true Holmes fashion—straddles a fine line between comfort and insult:

"Mycroft,” Sherlock intervened, “the girl's head, you'll observe, is rather small in proportion to her remarkably tall body. Let her alone. There is no use confusing and upsetting her when you'll find out for yourself soon enough'" (38).

***

"Could mean that she left impulsively and in haste, or it could reflect the innate untidiness of a woman's mind,” interrupted Sherlock. “Of what use is reason when it comes to the dealings of a woman, and very likely one in her dotage?" (43).

A large part of Enola's drive stems from proving to Sherlock, the world, and even herself that a small head does not mean lack of intelligence. His insults, couched in a misguided attempt to sooth, is what makes Sherlock a complex character and his broader sexism is what makes him a flawed character, not Superman in a tweed suit. Yet in the film Mycroft becomes the villain and Sherlock is his good brother foil. Rather than needing to acknowledge that Enola has a knack for deduction by reading the excellent questions she's asked about the case—because why give your characters any development?—he already adores and has complete faith in her, laughing that he too likes to draw caricatures to think. By the tree Sherlock remanences fondly about Enola's childhood where she demonstrated appropriately quirky preferences for a genius, things like not wearing trousers and keeping a pinecone for a pet. They have a clear connection that Mycroft could never understand, one based both in deduction and, it seems, being a halfway decent human being. We are told that Enola has Sherlock's wits, but poor Mycroft lucked out, despite the fact that up until this point the film has done nothing to demonstrate this supposed intelligence. (To say nothing of how canonically Mycroft's intellect rivals his brother's.) Enola falls to her knees and begs for Sherlock's help, saying that "For [Mycroft] I'm a nuisance, to you—" implying that they have a deep bond despite not having seen one another since Enola was a toddler. Indeed, at one point Enola challenges Lestrade to a Sherlock quiz filled with information presumably not found in the newspaper clippings she's saved of him, which begs the question of how she knows her brother so well when she hasn't seen him in a decade and he, in turn, walked right by her with no recognition. Truthfully, Lestrade should know Sherlock better. Through all this the sibling bond is used as a heavy-handed insistence that Enola is Sherlock's protégé, him leaving her with the advice that "Those kinds of mysteries are always the best to unpick” and straight up asking at one point if she’s solved the case. The plot has Enola gearing up to outwit her genius brother, which did not happen in the novel and is precisely why I loved it. Enola isn't out to be a master of deduction in her teens, she's a finder of lost people who uses a similar, but ultimately unique set of skills. She does things Sherlock can't because she is isn't Sherlock. They're not in competition, they're peers, yet the film fails to understand that, using Sherlock's good brother bonding to emphasize Enola's place as his protégé turned superior. He exists, peppered throughout the film, so that she can surpass him in the end. 

You know what happens in the novel? Sherlock walks away from her, dismissive, and that's that.

That's also Sherlock Holmes. I won't bore you with complaints about Cavill being too handsome and Claflin being too thin for their respective parts, but I will draw the line at complete character assassination. Part of Sherlock's charm is that he's far more compassionate than he first appears, but that doesn't mean he would, at the drop of a telegram, become a doting older brother to a sister of all things. Despite the absurdity of the Doyle Estate's lawsuit against Netflix for making Sherlock an emotional man who respects women... they're right that this isn't their character. Oh, Sherlock is emotive, but it's in the form of excited exclamations over clues, or the occasional warm word towards Watson—someone he has known and lived with for many years. Sherlock respects women, though it's through those societal expectations. He'll offer them a seat, an ear, a handkerchief if they need one, and always the promise of help, but he then dismisses them with, "The fairer sex is your department, Watson." Springer successfully wrote Sherlock Holmes with a little sister, a man who will bark out a laugh at her caricature but still leave her to Mycroft's whims because he has his own life to tend to. This is a man who insists that the mind of a woman is inscrutable and thus must grapple with his shock at Enola's ability to cover the "salient points" of the case (58). Cavill's Sherlock is no Sherlock at all and though there's nothing wrong with updating a character for a modern audience (see: Elementary), I do question why Netflix strayed so far from Springer's work. The novel is, after all, their blueprint. She already managed the difficult task of writing an in-character Sherlock Holmes who remains approachable to both a modern audience and Enola herself, yet for some reason Netflix tossed that work aside.  

2. Enola is "Special,” Not At All Like Other Girls 

Allow me to paint you a picture. Enola Holmes is an empathetic, fourteen-year-old girl who, while bright, does not possess an intelligence worthy of note. No one is gasping as she deduces seemingly impossible things from the age of four, or admiring her knowledge of some obscure, appropriately impressive topic. Rather, Enola is a fairly normal girl with an abnormal upbringing, characterized by her patience and willingness to work. Deciphering the many hiding places where her mother stashed cash takes her weeks, requiring that Enola work through the night in secrecy while maintaining appearances during the day. She manages to hatch a plan of escape that demonstrates the thought she's put into it without testing the reader's suspension of disbelief. More than that, she uses the feminine tools at her disposal to give herself an edge: hiding her face behind a widow's veil and storing luggage in the bustle of her dress. Upon achieving freedom, her understanding of another lonely boy leads her to try and help him, resulting in a dangerous kidnapping wherein Enola acts as most fourteen-year-olds would, scared out of her mind with a few moments of bravery born of pure survival instinct. She and Tewksbury escape together, as friends, before Enola sets out on becoming the first scientific perditorian, a finder of lost people.

Sadly, this new Enola shares little resemblance with her novel counterpart. What Netflix seemingly fails to understand is that giving a character flaws makes them relatable and that someone who looks more like us is someone we can connect with. This Enola, simply put, is extraordinary. She's read all the books in the library, knows science, tennis, painting, archery, and a deadly form of Jujitsu (more on that below). In the novel Enola bemoans that she was never particularly good at cyphers and now must improve if she has any hope of reading what her mother left her. In the film she simply knows the answers, near instantaneously. Enola masters her travels, her disguises, and her deductions, all with barely a hitch. Though Enola doesn't have impressive detective skills yet, her memory is apparently photographic, allowing her to look back on a single glance into a room, years ago, and untangle precisely what her mother was planning. It's a BBC Sherlock-esque form of 'deduction' wherein there's no real thought involved, just an innate ability to recall a newspaper across the room with perfect clarity. The one thing Enola can't do well is ride a bike which, considering that in the novel she quite enjoys the activity, feels like a tacked on "flaw" that the film never has to have her grapple with.

More than simply expanding upon her skillset—because let’s be real, it’s not like Sherlock himself doesn’t have an impressive list of accomplishments. Even if Enola’s feelings of inadequacy are part of the point Springer was working to make—the film changes the core of her personality. I cannot stress enough that Enola is a sheltered fourteen-year-old who is devastated by the disappearance of her mother and terrified by the new world she's entered. That fear, uncertainty, and the numerous mistakes that come out of it is what allowed me to connect with Enola and go, "Yeah. I can see myself in her." Meanwhile, this new Enola is overwhelmingly confident, to the point where I felt like I was watching a child's fantasy of a strong woman rather than one who actually demonstrates strength by overcoming challenges. For example, contrast her meeting with Sherlock and Mycroft on the train platform with what we got in the film:

"And to my annoyance, I found myself trembling as I hopped off my bicycle. A strip of lace from my pantalets, confounded flimsy things, caught on the chain, tore loose, and dangled over my left boot.

Trying to tuck it up, I dropped my shawl.

This would not do. Taking a deep breath, leaving my shawl on my bicycle and my bicycle leaning against the station wall, I straightened and approached the two Londoners, not quite succeeding in holding my head high" (31-32).

***

"Well, if they did not desire the pleasure of my conversation, it was a good thing, as I stood mute and stupid... 'I don't know where she's gone,' I said, and to my own surprise—for I had not wept until that moment—I burst into tears" (34).

I'd ask where this frightened, fumbling Enola has gone, but it's clear that she never existed in the script to begin with. The film is chock-full of her being, to be frank, a badass. She gleefully beats up the bad guys in perfect form, no, "I froze, cowering, like a rabbit in a thicket" (164). This Enola always gets the last word in and never falters in her confident demeanor, no, "I wish I could say I swept with cold dignity out of the room, but the truth is, I tripped over my skirt and stumbled up the stairs" (70). Enola is the one, special girl in an entire school who can see how rigid and horrible these social expectations are, straining against them while all her lesser peers roll their eyes. That's how she's characterized: as "special," right from the get-go, and that eliminates any growth she might have experienced over the course of the film. More than that, it feels like a slap in the face to Springer's otherwise likeable, well-rounded character.

3. A Focus on Hollywood Action and Those Strong Female Characters

It never fails to amaze me how often Sherlock Holmes adaptations fail to remember that he is, at his core, an intellectual. Sure, there's the occasional story where Sherlock puts his boxing or singlestick skills to good use, and he did survive his encounter with Moriarty thanks to his own martial arts, but these moments are rarities across the canon. Pick up any Sherlock Holmes story, open to a random page, and you will find him sitting fireside to mule over a case, donning a disguise to observe the suspects, or combing through his many papers to find that one, necessary scrap of information. Sherlock Holmes is about deduction, a series of observations and conclusions based on logic. He's not an action hero. Nor is Enola, yet Netflix seems to be under the impression that no audience can survive a two hour film without something exploding.

I'd like to present a concise list of things that happened in the film that were, in my opinion, unnecessary:

Enola and Tewksbury throw themselves out of a moving train to miraculously land unharmed on the grass below.

Enola uses the science knowledge her mother gave her to ignite a whole room of gunpowder and explosives, resulting in a spectacle that somehow doesn't kill her pursuer.

Enola engages in a long shootout with her attacker, Tewksbury takes a shot straight to the chest, but survives because of a breastplate he only had a few seconds to put on and hide beneath his shirt. Then Enola succeeds in killing Burn Gorman's slimy character.

Enola beats up her attackers many, many times.

This right here is the worst change to her character. Enola is, plainly put, a "strong woman." Literally. She was trained from a young age to kick ass and now that's precisely what she'll do. Gone is the unprepared but brave girl who heads out onto the dangerous London streets in the hope of helping her mother and a young boy. What does this Enola have to fear? There's only one martial arts move she hasn't mastered yet and, don't worry, she gets it by the end of the film. Enola suffers from the Hollywood belief that strong women are defined solely as physically capable women and though there's nothing wrong with that on the surface, the archetype has become so prevalent that any deviation is seen as too weak—too princess-y—to be considered feminist. If you're not kicking ass and taking names then you can only be passive, right? Stuck in a tower somewhere and awaiting your prince. But what about me? I have no ability to flip someone over my shoulder and throw them into a wall. What about pacifists? What about the disabled? By continually claiming that this is what a "strong" woman looks like you eliminate a huge number of women from this pool. The women we are meant to uphold in this film—Enola, her Mother, and her Mother's friend from the teahouse—are all fighters of the physical variety, whereas the bad women like Mrs. Harris and her pupils are too cultured for self-defense. They're too feminine to be feminist. But feminism isn't about your ability to throw a punch.  Enola's success now derives from being the most talented and the most violent in the room, rather than the most determined, smart, and empathetic. She threatens people and lunges at them, reminding others that she's perfectly capable of tying up a guy is she so chooses because "I know Jujitsu." Enola possesses a power that is just as fantastical as kissing a frog into a prince. In sixteen short years she has achieved what no real life woman ever will: the ability to go wherever she pleases and do whatever she wants without the threat of violence. Because Enola is the violence. While her attacker is attempting to drown her with somewhat horrific realism, Enola takes the time to wink at the audience before rearing back and bloodying his nose. After all, why would you think she was in any danger? Masters of Jujitsu with an uncanny ability to dodge bullets don't have anything to fear... unlike every woman watching this film.

It's certainly some kind of wish fulfillment, a fantasy to indulge in, but I personally preferred the original Enola who never had any Hollywood skills at her disposal yet still managed to come out on top. That's a character I can see myself in and want to see myself in given that the concept of non-violent strength is continually pushed to the wayside. Not to mention... that's a Sherlock Holmes story. Coming out on top through intellect and bravery alone is the entire point of the genre, so why Netflix felt the need to turn Enola into an action hero is beyond me.  

4. Aging Up the Protagonists (and Giving Them an Eye-Rolling Romance)

The choice to age up our heroes is, arguably, the worst decision here. In the original novel Enola has just turned fourteen and Tewksbury is a child, twelve-years-old, though he looks even younger. It's a story for a younger audience staring appropriately young heroes, with the protagonists' status as children crucial to one of the overarching themes of the story: what does it really mean to strike out on your own and when are you ready for it? Adding two years to Enola's age is something I'm perfectly fine with. After all, the difference between fourteen and sixteen isn't that great and Brown herself is sixteen until February of 2021, so why not aim for realism and make her character the same? That's all reasonable and this is, indeed, an adaptation. No need to adhere to every detail of the text. What puzzles me though is why in the world they would take a terrified, sassy, compassionate twelve-year-old and turn him into a bumbling seventeen-year-old instead?

Ah yes. The romance.

In the same way that I fail to understand the assumption that a film needs over-the-top action to be entertaining, I likewise fail to understand the assumption that it needs a romance—and a heterosexual one to boot. There's something incredibly discomforting in watching a film that so loudly proclaim itself as feminist, yet it takes the strong friendship between two children and turns it into an incredibly awkward, hetero True Love story. Remember when Enola loudly proclaims that she doesn't want a husband? The film didn't, because an hour later she's stroking her hand over Tewksbury's while twirling her hair. Which isn't to say that women can't fall in love, or change their minds, just that it's disheartening to see a supposedly feminist film so completely fall into one of the biggest expectations for women, even today. Forget Enola running up to men and paying them for their clothes as an expression of freedom, is anyone going to acknowledge that narratively she’s still stuck living the life the men around her want? Find yourself a husband, Enola. The heavy implication is she did, just with Jujitsu rather than embroidery. Different method, same message, and that’s incredibly frustrating when this didn’t exist in the original story. “It's about freedom!” the film insists. So why didn't you give Enola the freedom to have a platonic adventure? 

It's not even a good romance. Rather painful, really. When Tewksbury, after meeting her just once before, passionately says "I don't want to leave you, Enola" because her company is apparently more important than him staying alive, I literally laughed out loud. It's ridiculous and it's ridiculously precisely because it was shoe-horned into a story that didn't need it. More than simply saddling Enola with a bland love interest though, this leads to a number of unfortunate changes in the story's plot, both unnecessary additions and disappointing exclusions. Enola no longer meets Tewksbury after they've both been kidnapped (him for ransom and her for snooping into his case), but rather watches him cut himself out of a carpetbag on the train. I hope I don't have to explain which of these scenarios is more likely and, thus, more satisfying. Meeting Tewksbury on the train means that Enola gets to have a nighttime chat with him about precisely why he ran away. Thus, when she goes to his estate she no longer needs to deduce his hiding spot based on her own desires to have a place of her own, she just needs to recall that a very big branch nearly fell on him and behold, there that branch is. (The fact that the branch is a would-be murder weapon makes its convenient placement all the more eye-rolling.) Rather than involving herself in the case out of empathy for the family, Enola loudly proclaims that she wants nothing to do with Tewksbury and only reluctantly gets involved when it's clear his life is on the line. And that right there is another issue. In the novel there is no murderous plot in an attempt to keep reform bills from passing. Tewksbury is a child who, like Enola, ran away and quickly discovers that life with an overbearing mother isn't so bad when you've experienced London's dangerous streets. That's the emotional blow: Enola has no mother to go home to anymore and must press out onto those streets whether she's ready for it or not.

Perhaps the only redeeming change is giving Tewksbury an interest in flowers instead of ships. Regardless of how overly simplistic the feminist message is, it is a nice touch to give the guy a traditionally feminine hobby while Enola sharpens her knife. The fact that Enola learned that from her mother and Tewksbury learned botany from his father feels like a nudge at a far better film than Enola Holmes managed to be. For every shining moment of insight—the constraints of gendered hobbies, a black working class woman informing Sherlock that he can never understand what it means to lack power—the film gives us twenty minutes worth of frustrating stupidity. Such as how Enola doesn't seem to conceive of escaping from boarding school until Tewksbury appears to rescue her. She then proceeds to get carried around in a basket for a few minutes before going out the window... which she could have done on her own at any point, locked doors or no. But it seems that narrative consistency isn't worth more than Enola (somehow) leaving a caricature of Mrs. Harris and Mycroft behind. The film is clearly trying to promote a "Rah, rah, go, women, go!" message, but fails to understand that having Enola find a way out of the school herself would be more emotionally fulfilling than having her send a generic 'You're mean' message after the two men in her life—Sherlock and Tewksbury—remind her that she can, in fact, take action.

Which brings me to my biggest criticism and what I would argue is the film's greatest flaw. Reviewers and fans alike are hailing Enola Holmes as a feminist masterpiece and yes, to a certain extent it is. Feminist, that is, not a masterpiece. (5) But it's a hollow feminism. A fantasy feminism. A simple, exaggerated feminism that came out of a Feminism 101 PowerPoint. To quote Sherlock, let's review the salient points:

A woman cannot be the star of her own film without having a male love interest, even if this goes against everything the original novel stood for.

A feminist woman cannot also be selfish. Instead she must have a selfless drive to change the world with bombs. 

The best kind of women are those who reject femininity as much as they can. They will wear boy's clothes whenever possible and snub their nose at something as useless as embroidery. Any woman who enjoys such skills or desires to become lady-like just hasn't realized the sort of prison she's in yet.

The best women also embody other masculine traits, like being able to take down men twice their size. Passive women will titter behind their hands. Active women will kick you in the balls. If you really want to be a strong woman, learn how to throw a decent punch.

Women are, above all, superior to men.

Yes, yes, I joke about it just as much as the next woman, but seeing it played fairly straight was a bit of an uncomfortable experience, even more-so during a gender revolution where stories like this leave trans, nonbinary, and genderqueer viewers out of the ideological loop. Enola goes on and on about what a "useless boy" Tewksbury is (though of course she must still be attracted to him) and her mother's teachings are filled with lessons about not listening to men. As established, Mycroft—and Lestrade—are the simplistically evil men Enola must circumvent, whereas Sherlock exists for her to gain victory over: "How did your sister get there first?" Enola supposedly has a strength that Tewksbury lacks— he's just "foolish"—and she shouts out such cringe-worthy lines as, "You're a man when I tell you you're a man!"

I get the message, I really do. As a teenager I probably would have loved it, but now I have to ask: aren't we past the image of men-hating feminists? Granted, the film never goes quite that far, but it gets close. We’ve got one woman who is ready to start blowing things up to achieve equality and another who revels in looking down on the men in her life. That’s been the framing for years, that feminists are cruel, dangerous people and Tewksbury making heart-eyes at Enola doesn’t instantly fix the echoes of that. There's a certain amount of justification for both characterizations—we have reached points in history where peaceful protests are no longer enough and Tewksbury is indeed a fool at times—but that nuance is entirely lost among the film's overall message of "Women rule, men drool." It feels like there’s a smart film hidden somewhere between the grandmother murdering to keep the status quo and Enola’s mother bombing for change, that balance existing in Enola herself who does the most for women by protecting Tewkesbury... but Enola Holmes is too busy juggling all the different films it wants to be to really hit on that message. It certainly doesn’t have time to say anything worthwhile about the fight it’s using as a backdrop. Enola gasps that "Mycroft is right. You are dangerous" when she finds her mother's bombs, but does she ever grapple with whether she supports violence on a large scale in the name of creating a better world? Does she work through this sudden revelation that she agrees with Mycroft about something crucial? Of course not. Enola just hugs her mom, asks Sherlock not to go after her, and the film leaves it at that. 

The takeaway is less one of empowerment and more, ironically, of restriction. You can fight, but only via bombs and punches. It's okay to be a woman, provided you don't like too many feminine things. You can save the day, so long as there's a man at your side poised to marry you in the future. I felt like I was watching a pre-2000s script where "equality" means embracing the idea that you're "not like other girls" so that men will finally take you seriously. Because then you don't really feel like a woman to them anymore, do you? You're a martial arts loving, trouser-wearing, loud and brilliant individual who just happens to have long hair. You’re unique and, therefore, worthy of attention, unlike all those other girls.

That's some women's experiences, but far from all, and crucially I don't think this is the woman that Springer wrote in her novel. 

The Case of the Missing Marquess is a feminist book. It gives us a flawed, brave, intelligent woman who sets out to help people and achieves just that, mostly through her own strength, but also with some help from the young boy she befriends. Her brothers are privileged, misguided men who she nevertheless cares for deeply and her mother finally puts herself first, leaving Enola to go and live with the Romani people. Everyone in Springer's book feels human, the women especially. Enola gets to tremble her way through scary decisions while still remaining brave. Her mother gets to be selfish while still remaining loving. They're far more than just women blessed with extraordinary talents who will take what they want by force. Springer's women? They don't have that Hollywood glamour. They're pretty ordinary, actually, despite the surface quirks. They’re like us and thus they must make use of what tools they have in order to change their own situations as well as the world. The fact that they still succeed feels very feminist to me, far more-so than granting your character the ability to flip a man into the ground and calling it a day.  

Know that I watched Enola Holmes with a friend over Netflix Party and the repeated comment from us both was, "I'd rather be watching The Great Mouse Detective." Enola Holmes is by no means a horrible film. It has beauty, comedy, and a whole lot of heart, but it could have been leagues better given its source material and the talent of its cast. It’s a film that tries to do too much without having a firm grasp of its own message and, as a result, becomes a film mostly about missed potential. Which leads me right back to where I began: The book is better. Go read the book.

Images

Enola Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Sherlock Holmes

Enola and her Mother Doing Archery

Enola and her Mother Fighting

Tewkesbury and Enola

[mayquita]

Damn You For Making Me Love You (8/15) - Eye Of The Tiger

Thank you so so much, for your likes, reblogs, kudos and comments. It means the world to me.

Beta-Reader: Thank you so much, @ultraluckycatnd​​​ I couldn’t have asked for a better beta. Thank you for all your effort, your suggestions, your advice and for always being there when I needed you.

Special mention to @saraswans​​ and @onceuponaprincessworld​​​, thank you so much for your perpetual support and for believing in me and in the story. Thank you again to the moderators of the event, @captainswanbigbang​​​ for giving us this opportunity and making this possible. You all are the best :)

Summary: Emma Swan and Killian Jones are close friends and co-workers. And both are in love with each other. The problem? They keep their feelings secret not only to the other but also to the rest of their friends. When Elsa, Emma’s best friend and Liam, Killian’s brother and Emma’s boss find out, they decide to form an alliance and work as a team with a clear goal, to get Emma and Killian to take the next step in their relationship and confess their love for each other.

Rating: M

Word count: ~ 9200 (98k total in 15 chapters)

Ao3 / FFnet

About this chapter: (Another long chapter. Sorry???)  New flashback, new performance, and...Emma being Emma...

//

Chapter 7: Eye of the Tiger

Emma - Four years ago

Emma had only been working at The Kraken for three weeks but she had already established a work routine that would allow her to get the most out of her hours there.

There was so much to do to boost the bar that she spent perhaps too much time there, but she didn't mind at all, not if it meant being able to develop her creative abilities. 

She came to work every day early in the afternoon when the bar was not yet open. There was something about observing the empty place that made her ideas flow more easily. She also took advantage of those early hours to chat with Liam, the only other person who came to the place that early, and to elaborate on different action plans together. 

Emma liked Liam and enjoyed these moments alone with him. He seemed a responsible and kind guy, and, most important to her, open to any suggestion she could offer. Although he always maintained a professional attitude, Emma suspected that the bar meant much more to Liam than a simple business, so she was even more determined to help.

Killian, the younger brother, usually arrived a little later. He also seemed to have an established routine. He always helped Liam leave everything ready for the opening of the bar and then spent a few minutes playing the guitar and singing, just like the first time she had laid eyes on him.

The attraction Emma had felt towards him had not diminished with the passing of the weeks, but rather the opposite. Even so, she kept up her facade as a tough girl and always adhered to her professional role, trying to ignore the reactions of her body whenever Killian walked around.

The fact that he kept singing while she tried to work didn't help her cause, though. His melodious voice had the ability to seep not only through her ears but through all the fibers of her being, generating a warm buzz under her skin.

Today things seemed to follow the same path. Liam had retreated to the backroom to restock some empty spaces on the shelves while she remained perched on her favorite stool near the bar and Killian was on stage singing, of course.

"So, you went to college here in Boston, Swan?"

Emma was not surprised when Killian stopped singing in the middle of the song to address her. This had also been a common practice in recent days, he sporadically throwing some personal questions to her in order, she supposed, to try to get to know her better.

She always managed to give evasive answers or simply rolled her eyes without bothering to respond. This time it wasn't going to be any different.

"Uh-huh," she replied, without looking away from the laptop screen. 

After a few seconds of silence on both sides, he began to sing again. She didn't even have time to open the next photo file when silence fell again on stage, in anticipation of the next question.

“Just who are you, Emma Swan?"

This time Emma did look at him, meeting an expression of genuine curiosity, the same that had come off his voice. She was tempted to ignore him, but there was something in the intensity of his gaze, as if he really wanted to know her, that caused her mouth to act on its own.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

"Perhaps I would."

The lyrics of a song came to her mind at that very moment, and again, before she even realized what she was doing, she heard her own words. "I'm a survivor."

The answer seemed to satisfy Killian. He grinned at her before directing his gaze back to his guitar. When Emma heard the first chords of the next song, she gave such a start that she almost fell off her stool. What the hell? Was this guy some kind of sorcerer or something with the power to read her mind? He just had begun to sing the same song that had come to her mind just a few seconds before.

  “Rising up, back on the street

Did my time, took my chances

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet

Just a ‘woman’ and her will to survive.”

 The bastard had changed the gender on purpose. For her. Although Emma would never admit it, that was the first time she felt butterflies in her belly, which, despite being a pleasant sensation, did not predict anything good. Nothing at all.

//

Emma - December 2019

Emma hated feeling weak. Even though it had been three days since her accident, she still did not feel fully recovered. The trails of the incident lingered in the form of slight dizziness and dull pain in her shoulder so, as soon as she woke up, she walked directly to the couch and dropped herself down there, too lazy and still aching to do anything more productive. 

In addition to her discomfort, she wasn't doing well mentally on her days off and spent most of her time at home, sulk mode on, unable to distract herself by anything.

Well, to be honest, Killian was a distraction. Too much of a distraction, in fact. She should be thankful for his constant presence these days. The reality, however, was quite different. She was having a hard time dealing with his continued attention.

It wasn't because she didn't value his efforts. The only reason, though she would never admit it aloud, was because she wasn't used to having anyone take care of her in her weakest moments. She found it difficult to show her most vulnerable side after so many years of having to take care of herself, with no family or friends to watch over her.

For that reason, when Killian appeared at her door at ten in the morning for the third day in a row, she was not in her most hospitable mood.

The sound of the keys at her front door announced his presence even before he appeared. Emma let out a groan of annoyance as she regretted the moment she decided to give him the keys to her apartment a year ago.

She could handle Elsa's or even Liam's attentions better. She still remembered with some fondness that one time she had come down with the flu a year and a half ago and how Liam had been the first to come to her rescue, since Elsa had been accompanying her girls to a competition outside the city.

She had felt so sick on that occasion that, although she had protested that she could take care of herself, she had found herself so weak that, for once, she had lowered her defenses and allowed someone else to take the reins. Killian had soon replaced his brother to take care of her but since she had spent most of her time raving because of the fever, she had barely been able to assess his attentions to her.

Everything was different this time. Although weak and sore, she kept the rest of her faculties intact, which meant that her thoughts ran wild in her head. Although her feelings for Killian had not stopped growing — or perhaps because of it, she was no longer sure —she would have preferred it to be Elsa exclusively, or even Liam, as the one in charge of taking care of her. Elsa and Liam were just friends, very close friends, actually. Killian, however, was much more, at least for her.

Her train of thought was full of inconsistencies; she was fully aware of it. The constant presence of Killian worrying about her was both driving her crazy and causing the walls around her heart to weaken. And the worst thing was that she still wasn't sure about his feelings towards her.

"Good morning, love." He was in front of her in an instant, swaggering as he walked, a huge grin on his face. In his hand, a paper bag from her favorite coffee shop.

"What are you doing here?" Her response came as a grumble, as she laid on the couch, avoiding direct contact with his gaze.

He, of course, chose to ignore her, his expression unperturbed as he headed for the kitchen area.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked from there, as he opened and closed cabinets and drawers to get the things he needed. In HER kitchen.

"Fine," she mumbled. And it was true, especially if she ignored the persistent pounding in her head, or the small dizziness when she made sudden movements. But she wasn't going to give more explanations that increased his level of concern and that hint of guilt that sometimes clouded his gaze. She wasn't going to deny that she was somehow pleased. But on the other hand, all that worry made her nervous. Did he worry that much just because she was his friend or because she was something else to him?

"Have you had breakfast?” His rhetorical question broke her train of thought. She remained stubbornly silent, with her lips firmly pressed together for a few seconds, but finally gave up, sensing that he would keep insisting.

“Uh-huh.” ( No )

“Liar.”

She huffed in annoyance, hating that he could read her so well. “Why bother asking me if you already know the answer?” Her voice came out in a tone perhaps too sharp, so she took a deep breath before continuing. “Listen, I’m fine. I’m not a little girl you have to supervise. I’m able to take care of myself,” she said without bothering to make contact with his gaze.

Still, she couldn’t help glancing sideways at the kitchen island. His expression hadn’t changed, but she could feel the muscle in his cheek flexing in and out, a sign that he was losing his patience. He kept his voice calm as he headed back to her, though.

“Well, since you’re an adult and responsible person, you must know that you should have more than just coffee in your stomach while you are taking your medication.”

Enough. She rose abruptly, ready to face him. What she didn’t count on was her weakness and the sudden dizziness that arose the moment she stood up, making her whole body falter.

“Easy, Swan.” Killian was there in an instant, his strong arms holding her to keep her from falling. And she hated him a little more for that. Or she loved him more, depending on how she wanted to think about it.

"I'm fine," Emma hissed as she stirred to escape his grasp. His touch suddenly felt like too much, leaving her too weakened to face him. Even so, as she was already standing, she headed toward the kitchen with hesitant steps, feeling a bit uncomfortable by the moment of previous tension.

Killian stood still. When Emma finally dared to look at him in the eye, she could detect that he was hurt. His lips pressed together in a grim line and his brow furrowed. "If my presence is so annoying, I can leave."

Yes, I want you to leave because I can not handle having you so close without having any idea of your feelings. Because all I want is to make that purse of your lips disappear by pressing mine onto yours. Because this whole situation is killing me. She obviously wasn't going to confess her true feelings, but that was no excuse for her behavior. On the other hand, she didn't have the heart to be so cruel as to make him leave, considering her ungrateful behavior so far. Instead, she reached for the bag he had brought with him, inspecting the contents.

Two delightful-looking bear claws were waiting for her. The smell — like heaven — coming through the bag made her mouth water. Without further ado, she grabbed one of the pastries and bit a portion, unable to prevent a sound of pleasure escaping her throat.

A wave of guilt seized her as she glanced at Killian. He hadn't moved from his place, his arms folded across his chest, his expression impassive, his gaze perhaps too intense.

"Do you want one?" She offered him the other bear claw as a sign of making peace, which was funny, considering that he was the one who brought them. Her contrite expression and softer voice was her way to emphasize her offer to make up.

After a deep breath, Killian approached her and grabbed the claw she was holding out. Emma reached for her chocolate to-go cup —with whipped cream and cinnamon, of course. Killian knew all her preferences. Well, almost all of them—  and they both had their breakfast in quiet silence, only broken by some sounds of satisfaction coming from her as she savored the food. His expression softened the moment he sat next to her on one of her kitchen stools. And just like that, the previous tension seemed to have diluted and she was comfortable again around her best friend. It must have been the ingestion of sugar, which has brought some lucidity into my mind, she thought.

After finishing their meals, Killian washed his hands and approached her again. "Well, let's examine those little wounds. May I?" Emma suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and nodded instead. He had taken his role as a nurse very seriously and performed the same operation every day, ignoring her complaints. This time, given their previous little showdown, she simply let him do it.

She sat on the stool as he approached her, his fingers gently pulling back a strand of hair that had fallen on the wound over her left eyebrow. Although their bodies were not touching, she could sense both his warmth and his scent, feeling a little dizzy again, but this time for completely different reasons. "It looks like it's healing well." A sound of approval accompanied his words, which came in a murmur as if he were speaking to himself.

"What about your shoulder?"

"It still hurts a little," she admitted grudgingly.

"May l?" He pointed at her shoulder, reluctant to touch it without her permission. Emma nodded, her heart hammering in her chest. The tank top she was wearing left her shoulder bare, so Killian turned around behind her and pulled her hair delicately apart, her bruised skin exposed.

She was about to shoot a patient-doctor style joke, but the words died in her mouth the moment she felt his touch. On previous days, he had only examined her wound, barely an accidental contact of his fingers on her skin. This time, though, his fingertips traced delicate patterns over her shoulder, pressing gently, his touch almost imperceptible, like a feather, but enough to send a chill down her spine and leave a path of goosebumps. Damn traitorous body.

"Does it hurt?" he murmured, his warm breath caressing her neck.

Emma shook her head slightly, her throat unable to make any coherent sound. She remained still while his fingers continued their course over her skin.

From her position, she couldn't see his movements but she could feel his body coming closer to hers, his lips approaching dangerously to her neck. Emma closed her eyes, her heart pounding as she launched a silent prayer for Killian to finally press his lips against her skin. The touch never came, though. Instead, his warm breath was a sufficient substitute to send waves of heat toward her center.

After a few seconds that seemed eternal and at the same time they seemed to have lasted only an instant, his fingers finally moved away, her body missing his warmth in the same moment.

He cleared his throat. "It looks nasty, but I guess that's a sign that it's healing too. Have you taken your pain pills?" Despite the intimate moment, his voice seemed calm, as if he hadn't been about to kiss her neck. Because this time she was sure it hadn't been just her imagination.

"Uh-huh," she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Emma then got up, walked to the sofa and dropped onto it. She knew without looking that Killian was picking up the remains of breakfast. The act itself caused a new wave of anger to rise inside her. She wasn't a fucking invalid, she could still clean her own apartment. Still, she wasn't in the mood to argue with him again, so she tried to direct her thoughts down a different path. "Any plans for this morning? Don't you have to rehearse or something?"

Killian joined her on the couch, grabbing the TV remote. "Nope, just to delight you with my company and keep you from dying of boredom. Who gets to choose today?" He gestured toward the television as he bumped his shoulder lightly with hers — the good one, fortunately.

"It's ten o'clock in the morning, Jones. Don't you have something better to do?" As she spoke, she snatched the TV remote from his hands, a giggle bubbling in her throat as she saw his expression of surprise at her unexpected movement.

He ignored her question. Instead, he let out a sigh of resignation. "Okay, you're choosing, I guess."

They spent the next few minutes in silence, their eyes focused on the screen. Her mind, however, was not paying any attention to the show but was experiencing an internal struggle. On the one hand, the fact that Killian cared so much about her was a balm to her heart. On the other hand, his proximity made her feel frustrated and confused. It was like having a treasure at your fingertips without ever reaching it.

This current scenario was not new to them. They had already shared countless Netflix sessions or movie marathons both in her apartment and in his. For that reason, she buried the disturbing thoughts in a corner of her mind, ready to spend the morning huddled next to her best friend.

After a few minutes, she felt an extra weight on her shoulder. Killian had tilted his head slightly and was now resting on her. A few seconds later, she heard soft snores. He had fallen asleep.

A wave of guilt washed over her then. Her heart tightened as a lump formed in her throat. Until now, she hadn't been fully aware of the fact that Killian had come to her apartment every morning since the accident. Despite working late into the night, he came to her house early in the morning just to ensure her well-being. And yet, she was utterly sulky towards him, without even bothering to show any gesture of gratitude.

She was a coward. Although their displays of affection were plentiful, only in those moments, when he was asleep and unaware of her actions, she dared to really show her feelings beyond friendship.

She moved his body gently to prevent him from waking up, placing his head on her lap, so that he was more comfortable. He sputtered something in his sleep, but his breathing remained calm and he didn't protest the change of position.

Her fingers then slid over his hair, stroking it gently, depositing in these affectionate caresses all the gratitude and affection she didn't dare to utter aloud.

//

Two days later, she was tired of being locked up at home. She had the feeling that if she didn't get a change of scenery soon, her head would explode, and not because of her concussion. So, ignoring the advice of her friends, she returned to work on Friday afternoon.

At the very moment she entered The Kraken, she was enveloped by a bear hug from Liam. "Welcome back, love." Emma smiled at him, pleased to see him in his usual place and not worrying about her at home.

Although Liam didn't go as far as Killian did, he had come to visit her more often than usual in recent days. He behaved more like a brother, while Killian... She unconsciously turned her eyes to the stage. There he was, guitar in hand and his gaze focused on her, his lips curled into a wide smile with the ability to melt her heart.

Emma spent the first half-hour catching up with the business. She had missed The Kraken; she considered it as her second home — well, rather the third one, considering she spent half her free time at the Jones' house. She allowed herself a few moments, letting her gaze wander around and reveling in the little details like the boat-shaped bar, the perfectly arranged shelves with the different drinks, the stage area, and all the sailor motifs that adorned the walls. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply, letting the characteristic smell of the bar penetrate through her nostrils. Her lips parted in a smile of satisfaction. She was back.

Nothing had changed in her absence. The website was still working quite well, customers were still leaving reviews and compliments to the three of them, and the poll she had created to help in choosing the next song for the duet hadn’t stopped getting participants. At that moment, she realized that she hadn't spoken yet with Killian about that, and since it was Friday, they had to hurry up with the rehearsals if they wanted to have the song ready in time.

For that reason, the instant Killian took a break in the rehearsals, she approached him to comment on the subject. "Hey, the poll is working well. Do you think we should sing the winning song or have you thought of another one?" She looked up at the stage, her hands tucked into the back pockets of her pants.

"For the duet?" Killian brought his hand up to scratch behind his ear, something he always did when he was nervous for some reason.

"Yeah, for this Saturday."

"Hey, about that. Liam... why don't you explain it to her?" Killian turned to his brother, avoiding her gaze. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, intrigued by what was happening.

"Yeah, is there something you have to tell me, Liam?" Since Killian was still ignoring her, Emma turned to face his brother.

Liam stood behind the counter, arms crossed over his chest, a glacial glance directed at Killian.

"Liam..." Emma insisted with a warning tone.

Liam's eyes focused on her this time. After clearing his throat, he finally explained himself. "Uhm, we thought that since you're still convalescing, it's better if this Saturday you stay among the crowd, just taking photos. We don't want to burden you with work."

"What?" She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You mean that I'm recovered enough to take pictures and serve drinks, activities in which I have to use my still sore arm, but I can't get on stage for just three minutes?" She felt a small pull of anger in her stomach causing her voice to rise. 

"No one ever talked about serving drinks. In fact, you shouldn't even be here. You haven't fully recovered yet, but since you insisted, we thought it would be a good idea for you to resume your work slowly." Liam's calm speech was meant to placate her anger, she was aware, but he failed spectacularly. Far from being reassured, she was growing angrier by the minute.

Deep down, Emma knew that her reaction was perhaps a bit exaggerated. She had enjoyed their performances so much but in recent weeks, she could barely control the disappointment she felt when she was deprived of something she wanted to do because of a poor excuse. And worst of all, there was only one person to blame.

She turned abruptly, facing Killian again and pointing at him with an accusing finger. "This was your idea, wasn't it?" she hissed, her jaw clenched.

"Swan..." Killian's gaze at last held hers, but she didn’t like what she saw as she looked into his eyes. Instead of looking regretful, his expression showed that he was about to lose his temper. The fact that he was still on stage didn't help either. She felt small as she had to look up to face him.

"Oh, you dare look at me now? You're a coward, using your brother that way..." She was harsher than she intended, but this whole thing was throwing her off. At this point, she couldn't stop. She needed to discharge all the frustration she had accumulated over the last several days. "Who do you think you are to decide what is most convenient for me?"

"Are you going to let me explain myself or not?" She was getting him angry; she could tell by the way the muscles in his jaw tightened and by his tone of voice, which was higher than normal. Yet he held himself in place without losing his self-control.

Emma ignored his question. She didn't need explanations, all she needed was to vent her anger somehow. "I do not want explanations. I'm sick of your overprotection. I didn't ask for it, I don't want it. I know how to take care of myself. I don't need you." She regretted the moment her words came out of her mouth, but couldn't help herself.

At least her words got a reaction out of Killian. He unceremoniously placed the guitar on the ground and stepped off the stage, his arms on either side of his body, his hands curled into fists, his gaze so cold it could freeze the warmest heart. She'd only seen that look of fury on his face a couple of times, when he had faced some guy trying to take advantage of her in the bar. "I need some fresh air," he muttered under his breath, passing by and heading to the exit.

In a second, Killian vanished from the room. It was then that the reality of what had happened hit her hard. Emma felt defeated but her frustration, far from dissipating, had increased. Well done, Emma. Besides not feeling any relief, she had also used her best friend, the most important person in her life, as a punching bag, infuriating him like never before.

She let out a deep breath as she walked with defeated steps and sank onto a counter stool. Not daring to look at Liam, she whispered with her head buried in her arms that were crossed on the counter. "I fucked up."

What is wrong with me? Why am I being such an asshole lately? She wished she had magic to be able to go back in time or cast a memory loss spell on The Kraken so that everyone would forget what had just happened. Reluctant to lift her head, she hoped Liam would begin to give her a talk. He remained silent, though, so she gave up and, after a sigh, finally dared to look at her boss.

Liam was looking at her, his arms crossed over his chest and a serious expression on his face, but he didn't seem angry.

"Okay, come on, lecture me."

Her boss continued in silence for another few seconds, his hand caressing his jaw as if he were debating what to say to her. After a deep exhale, he finally spoke.

"Do you know that Killian almost had a panic attack when he saw you falling and hitting your head against the ice? In fact, we all worried. You were about to lose consciousness, Emma."

Although his voice remained calm, without a hint of reproach, she felt more and more uncomfortable, knowing in advance that she wouldn't like what she was going to hear. Still, she bit her lower lip and nodded in silence, encouraging him to continue.

"Killian is overprotective, it's in his nature. He acts this way with me, with you, and he also was overprotective with Milah." Emma's heart dropped to her stomach when she heard the name of Killian's first love. Even Liam had to pause, in clear evidence that he was also affected when talking about her. "I know it can be a bit overwhelming at times, but when you've lost almost everything in life, you can't risk losing anyone else. You should know that, Emma."

Emma tried to swallow the lump growing in her dry throat, Liam's words weighing like slabs on her shoulders. Tears threatened to spill over, but she pressed her eyes tightly shut, preventing them from falling.

Liam rested his arms on the counter and reached out his hand, holding her chin gently. "Tell me, Emma, how would you have acted, if Killian had been the injured person?"

Emma put her hands on her face, her palms pressing hard against her eyes to keep the tears from falling. Everything was in vain. She shook her head. "Oh God, I've been a real pain in the ass." She couldn't deny it. She'd have acted in exactly the same way or even worse.

"I would have probably killed that guy in the first place and then camped in your apartment to make sure he was fully recovered," she admitted, her voice accompanied by a sound mixed between a snort and a sob. She had been so ridiculous.

"So, do you understand now how much we care about you? We know that you are a tough lass. You've had to take care of yourself for a long time. Why don't you let others take that role now? What’s more, you better accept it because neither Elsa nor I, let alone the idiot I have as a brother, will never let you down."

A sense of gratitude seized her. Tears were now flowing freely down her cheeks and the lump in her throat kept her from speaking, so she did what she did best in these cases. She acted. She moved quickly to reach the area behind the bar where Liam stood and lunged at him, burying her face against his chest, her arms tight around his waist. "Thank you," she whispered.

Liam responded to her embrace, holding her against him, his hand gently caressing her back and causing a warm sensation to travel through her veins and reaching her heart. She felt safe and protected in Liam's firm arms, but above all, she felt valued. She mattered to these two incredible Jones brothers, who had not only accepted her but had made her part of their little family. Whatever happened with Killian, they were so important to her on so many levels, that she didn't know what would happen to her if she ever lost them.

"And now, don't you think you should do something else?" he murmured against her ear.

Emma pulled away a little, noting how his chin was pointing toward the exit. After another sigh, she wiped her tears as she bit her lower lip. "Do you think he'll forgive me?"

To her surprise, Liam barked out a laugh. "If you look at him with those puppy eyes and that regretful expression, I'm pretty sure he will. Besides, I don't think he can be mad at you for more than ten seconds. But just in case, this might help.” Liam handed her two bottles of beer, a grin pulling at his lips. "Hold on a sec." 

Liam disappeared in an instant in the direction of his office, reappearing a few seconds later holding both Emma's coat and Killian's. "Take this, it's freezing cold out there and the idiot didn't grab his coat." Emma nodded, the corners of her lips raised slightly. As she put her coat on, an idea of how she could handle her conversation with Killian popped into her mind.

As she walked toward the exit, the realization of what both Killian and Liam meant to her settled into her heart, making it beat faster and put a smile on her lips. Liam was to her like the brother she had always dreamed of, a protective rock that would have her back forever. And Killian... Killian was everything to her. The admission of her feelings was a fact; now she just had to overcome her irrational fear and find the courage to admit her feelings to him as well. That would not happen today, but her whole body vibrated in anticipation. Soon, she whispered to herself.

A gust of cold wind hit her in the face the moment she stepped outside. "Shit." Her breath came out in puffs of steam as she looked around in search of Killian, without result.

A sigh of resignation escaped her mouth. She had hoped to remedy the situation as soon as possible, but it seemed that Killian was not going to make it easy. At least she had an idea of where she could go, so she immediately directed her steps toward the harbor walk near the bar.

The moment she saw the harbor, her gaze scanned the area and luckily, she soon found Killian. He was leaning against the railing, his sight lost in the horizon, remaining impassive despite the freezing cold.

Emma approached tentatively, all her determination suddenly gone, replaced by fear of how he might react to her presence. But she wasn't a coward. Besides, she had forgotten the gloves and the damn beers were freezing her hands, so she had better get rid of at least one of them sooner rather than later.

"Hey." Emma paused, waiting for a reaction from Killian. He barely turned his head, simply giving her a sidelong glance. He then turned his gaze back to the horizon.

"You forgot this." She handed him his coat. "You and I know that if you catch a cold, it will be my turn to become your nurse, but better if we don't take a chance, eh?" Her words came in a soft, conciliatory tone, all the previous anger gone.

Killian grabbed his coat and put it on, still avoiding her gaze. He reached into his pockets until he found something. Gloves. Then he handed them to her without a word, taking the beers from her hand.

She accepted them with half a smile. Her heart warmed at Killian's gesture. Nevertheless, despite her hurtful words and his anger, he still found a way to ensure her well-being.

"You came here to tell me that it would be alright if you took care of me, but it’s wrong if I do the same for you?" When he finally decided to speak, his words didn't show anger, but he seemed defeated and hurt.

Emma swallowed hard, but since she had come this far, she did not flinch. "I came here because it's freezing cold." Before continuing, she reached out her arm, her hand squeezing his forearm gently, catching his attention at last. His eyes sought hers, a raised eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "And to tell you that I'm sorry I behaved like an asshole before." She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, hoping that both her words and her expression showed how regretful she was.

Killian let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry too, Swan." He ran his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. The look he gave her then made her heart flip. It was so intense, so filled with unspoken feelings that she had to blink for a moment to make sure she wasn't imagining it. "Maybe we shouldn't have made decisions for you, but you'd better get used to it, Emma. You're too important to Liam... and to me. You're not alone anymore."

"I'm getting the idea. I've had to take care of myself for so long that sometimes I forget that now I have both of you and Elsa."

"I know you're a tough and brave lass, but when you've been sick with a cold, you've let us take care of you. What was different this time?"

"I... I don't know. I guess I was scared too after the accident. I don't like feeling that weak," Emma admitted.

They remained silent for a few seconds, their gazes locked onto the ocean. The view of the horizon worked as a calming effect, her heart finally beating at a normal pace.

"I gather that this is your way of making up, but, seriously, did you really think that with this weather, beers were a good idea?" A sigh of relief escaped her mouth as his lips curled into a smirk, his eyes regaining their usual glow. He handed her one of the bottles.

Emma snorted. "That's your brother's fault. We could set up a coffee machine for these kinds of occasions," she joked, the tension between them finally gone.

"You could have turned to rum, instead." He bumped her shoulder lightly with his.

She raised her beer. "A toast, then?" Killian nodded, the two bottles crashing into the air. 

"Cheers," they both said in unison.

After the first sip, Killian opened his arms. "You're shivering, Swan, come here." She didn't think twice and practically slammed into him, his warm body welcoming her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders tightly. She buried her head in his chest, feeling vulnerable but also safe and protected. This time, that didn't matter to her at all.

"I can't lose you." His words came in a whisper so faint that she wasn't sure if she had heard his voice or if it was only the sound of the wind playing with her imagination.

//

Saturday night.

"So what's up with those two?"

Emma looked up from the screen of her camera, her eyes following the direction of Ruby's gaze and finding both Liam and Elsa on the other side of the bar engaged, once more, in what seemed like a private conversation. The corners of her lips rose slightly as she looked back at Ruby. "Thank God I'm not the only one who has noticed."

"Right? Your friend seems to always be here, and, coincidentally, she always chooses the stool closest to Liam's section." Although Emma had already managed to convince Killian that something was cooking up between them, she was glad someone else had noticed their unusual behavior. Of course Ruby had always been characterized by being quite perceptive.  She raised a naughty eyebrow while her lips drew a wicked grin. "And have you seen those puppy eyes our boss makes whenever she is around?"

"You know what? I'm already tired of this intrigue. It's time to act." Emma raised the hand that held her camera as she gave Ruby a conspiratorial look. "I already have my weapon ready."

"I have to see this." Ruby rubbed her hands together while raising her eyebrows playfully. "Killian! Cover me for a second, please." Ruby yelled at Killian as she waved her hand to get his attention.

Emma didn't miss how Killian looked at her first, his lips drawing a bright smile, and then raised his thumb to Ruby. Ruby blew a kiss in his direction before turning back to Emma. "I swear this bar sometimes looks like the ship of love," she commented while rolling her eyes. Emma suspected that Ruby wasn't just talking about Liam and Elsa, so she opted to ignore that statement and focus on her target instead.

Completely in sync, they both followed the same direction, Ruby from behind the bar and Emma in the front area. Liam and Elsa were so focused on each other that they didn't even realize that the pair had approached, so Emma rushed to act in order to catch them off guard.

"Say cheese!"

The reaction of both of them was immediate. Elsa jumped in her seat, dropping the glass she was holding, while Liam's eyes widened as he straightened his back suddenly, getting distance from Elsa. Luckily, the camera hid almost her entire face but even so, Emma had to bite back the laughter bubbling in the back of her throat. 

"Oh my God Emma, look at the mess you made me make!" Elsa seemed a little mortified, both in her expression and in her voice. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't like you taking pictures of me when I'm off guard?"

"I didn't even get to shoot," Emma defended herself, schooling her features so as not to betray her amusement. Ruby, meanwhile, pressed her lips together, barely hiding the grin that threatened to appear as she handed Liam a cloth to clean the spilled liquid on the counter. "Besides, since my boss here isn’t letting me get behind the counter yet, I have no choice but to settle for taking pics."

"You can always just sit back and keep Elsa company," Liam replied, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. If Emma didn't know him well, she would think he was upset, but she could detect a hint of challenge on the expression of his face.

Emma's gaze traveled from Liam to Elsa before shrugging and commenting, "not sure about that, it seemed you were engaged in quite an intimate conversation." Emma paused for a second while placing air quotes around the word intimate. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"We weren't..."

"We just... we were simply talking about a new plan for next Monday, a movie night." It was Liam who finally gave an explanation but not before directing an almost imperceptible glance at Elsa, who remained silent, eyes cast down, and cheeks flushed. "In fact, you and Mulan are invited too. It will be fun." Liam turned to Ruby, who remained by his side.

"I’ll pass. I prefer to dedicate my only free night to other more pleasurable activities with my girlfriend." Ruby winked at them. "Also, the two blondes and the two Irish together in the same room? Too sugary for my taste." Her lips drew a wolfish smile before she turned around, without waiting for a reply, in the direction of her section on the bar.

Emma was tempted to make some other biting comment, but she detected Elsa's embarrassment, so she finally took pity on her friend. After all, Elsa had never forced her to talk about her feelings towards Killian, so the least Emma could do was respect her decision and wait for Elsa to trust her enough to confess what was really happening. Still, she couldn't resist doing something she hoped was harmless.

"So you don't say I didn’t warn you, pose for me guys. I wanna see those bright smiles!" Although Elsa rolled her eyes, she did what she was told, tilting her body slightly in her direction, while Liam leaned against the counter. They looked at her with similar expressions. They both seemed happy. That was what really mattered.

//

An hour later, the music from the stage enveloped The Kraken, the crowd kept chanting the lyrics while clapping and dancing to the rhythm of the melody. Emma slid among the people taking photos, immortalizing the success of the concert in the form of enraptured faces, raised arms, and smiles directed towards the stage.

It was a great night. Emma did spend some time chatting with Elsa while the boys worked behind the bar. It was always a pleasure to hang out with her friend, even if she was at her workplace.

She also felt exultant about Killian. After making peace the day before, Emma and Killian had been glued to each other for as long as possible, as if trying to make up after their fight. She felt almost fully recovered, a slight ache in her shoulder the only vestige of her accident.

She stared at the stage. Killian was giving it all up on stage, totally devoted to his audience. Damn it! He’s irresistible, she thought while licking her lips. White shirt, black vest, and tight jeans, the perfect set to make her want to climb up there and have her way with him without caring about anything or anyone. It might be relatively easy to hide her feelings, but when it came to physical attraction, she found it increasingly difficult to resist the temptation.

The echo of the last song still resonated in the room when Emma realized that the concert had almost reached its final stretch. She thought with resignation that it normally would be her turn to get on the stage at this point if it wasn't for the damn accident.

She couldn't keep the corner of her lips from pulling into a small smile. Three weeks ago, she had been horrified at the idea of singing before an audience. And now singing a duet with Killian had become one of her favorite activities. It was as if all her inhibitions and fears would be forgotten during that brief interval of time. She felt free to express her feelings through music and she also was able to stay close to Killian, becoming part of his small bubble up on the stage. It was magical, electric, and addictive. And she was missing it a lot.

Killian's potent voice addressing the audience brought her back to reality. "Whoa! It's been a fantastic night, guys, thank you very much to everyone for your dedication." The crowd broke into applause and cheers. Killian waited for them to calm down, as he bowed, the smile of satisfaction never disappearing from his face.

Then his gaze looked for hers. The moment his eyes met hers he winked and continued to speak to the audience. "Under normal circumstances, now would be the time to welcome Emma to the stage to accompany me on the last song. Unfortunately, that is not going to happen tonight." Some people in the audience expressed their disappointment, but Killian kept talking. "She is convalescing after a mishap she suffered a few days ago. She's fine, but we think it's better if she lets this week pass. But don't worry, next Saturday she will be here again, by my side and all of us will enjoy her great talent." The crowd clapped around her. Some people even turned and directed their words and looks of encouragement towards her.

"Even though she's not going to be up here tonight, this is still our moment. That's why I wanted to dedicate the next song to her.”

Wonderwall... That was the first song that came to her mind as her heart skipped a beat. After all, it was their song for this kind of situation, wasn’t it?

“Sometimes you get the worst cards in the game of life," he continued without taking his eyes off her. “But there are people like Emma, who has an inner strength enough to overcome all obstacles. She is the toughest and bravest person I know. A fighter. A survivor. She wanted to be up here today despite everything. So I hope this little gesture partly compensates her disappointment. This one's for you, Swan."

The audience began to roar around her, but she didn't listen to them. All her senses were focused on Killian. Her eyes filled with tears at the unexpectedness of his dedication. Damn bastard and his ability to leave her speechless. He was also looking at her, his eyes full of apology and maybe hope, his smile sending a wave of affection straight to her heart. She nodded in silence, her lips moving in a silent thank you.

That was all he needed. His fingers slid over the strings of his guitar, creating the first notes. Emma let out a gasp as she recognized the song. Okay, it might not have been Wonderwall after all, but his choice couldn’t have been more appropriate given the circumstances. The first chords brought to her memory one of the first moments shared with Killian soon after meeting, and how that moment had represented the point of no return in the escalation of her feelings towards him.

  “Rising up, back on the street

Did my time, took my chances

Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet

Just a ‘woman’ and her will to survive.”

 Killian's melodic voice brought her back to reality. The same verses she had heard in her memories, now sounding around her. He even changed the gender again to make sure, in case there was any doubt, that the song was aimed at her and only her.

Despite being surrounded by people, it was as if everything around them had ceased to exist except for them, wrapped under the protection formed by their particular bubble in the form of a melody.

It was curious how a song that had nothing romantic in it and was even used as a soundtrack in a boxing movie, had the ability to create an unbreakable link between them. Emma felt an almost uncontrollable desire to get on the stage and join him in singing The Eye of The Tiger with a shouting voice. She suppressed her desire, though, knowing that she would have the opportunity to thank him for the gesture as soon as he stepped down from the stage. Her whole body vibrated in anticipation of the embrace they would share once his performance was over.

The audience began to applaud even before the echo of the last notes faded. Emma, of course, joined them, arms raised high while cheering. Killian had to wait for the crowd to calm down to speak again.

"Thank you very much to everyone." His voice came shortness of breath by the effort. "Don't forget to check our website. The poll to choose the song for next week’s duet is still up. You're the best guys!" he shouted enthusiastically, gaining a new wave of applause.

Emma hurried to the side of the stage where Killian would appear, standing at her usual spot. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage, her skin tingling in anticipation. The moment he stepped down from the stage, she began to walk in his direction, her smile so wide it made her cheeks hurt.

What Emma saw next, however, left her paralyzed, unable to keep walking, her previous smile faded in an instant. Before Killian noticed her, he was surrounded by two fans, two very enthusiastic girls who kept smiling at him, touching him, and interposing her vision. 

Dammit!

She hesitated for a second, but suddenly she turned in the direction of the bar, an urgent need to ingest some alcohol settled in her stomach. She wasn't jealous. Not at all. Who am I kidding? A wave of unfounded jealousy seized her, making her good mood disappear, giving way to the sullen mood of the previous days. She sank onto a stool as far as possible from the bar area where Elsa kept Liam company while he was serving.

"Robin!" She gestured with her hand to get her co-worker's attention. "A shot of tequila, please."

Robin raised an eyebrow, a gesture that reminded her of Killian too much. Shit! Shit! She was so fucked up... "Are you sure? Your shift is not over yet. Also, aren't you still taking medication?"

Emma groaned inwardly. What happened to everyone lately? Why didn't they leave her alone? "I don't need to take pills anymore but I'm still convalescing and I'm taking a break. Would you like me to go behind the counter and serve it myself?" She hated herself the moment her words came out of her mouth in such a sharp tone. The poor guy was just doing his job and worrying about her. It wasn't his fault that she was hopelessly in love with her best friend but was such a coward that she could not confess her feelings.

Robin raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture before finally pouring her drink. "Do you need to talk? I'm quite busy right now," he pointed around, "but I can bring Elsa."

She shook her head, one of the corners of her lips moving subtly upwards while she raised her glass in a toast. 

Before attending to one of the customers who was demanding his attention, Robin leaned over the counter, approaching her to be heard. "Everyone missed you on stage today, but imagine how a certain person should have felt all alone up there." Robin offered her a soft smile, putting the bottle in front of her before finally leaving her alone with her thoughts and her bad mood.

Great. It seemed that everyone had agreed lately to make insinuations about them. Far from cheering her on, that caused her fear to increase. What's wrong with me? She took the contents of her glass in one swallow, hoping that the liquor would drag all these mixed feelings down.

She was aware that her behavior was totally childish, but she couldn't help feeling disappointed because that was their moment, the moment the two always shared. Right at the end of his performance whether or not she was with him on stage or below, the first thing he always did was hug her. It was their thing. And today, of all days, the moment was even more justified. But it was all ruined by a handful of fans. Although she didn't blame them, obviously, because who wouldn't fall for a guy like him?

Emma was about to pour another shot when suddenly, she felt two strong arms around her waist, a warm body leaning on her back and an unmistakable scent penetrating her nose, making her feel a little dizzy. "I was looking for you, Swan." Killian's words whispered in her ear sent a chill down her spine and a wave of heat toward her very core.

A sigh of relief escaped her throat, not caring at all that his display of affection was perhaps too intimate. She rested her back against his chest, her hands gently caressing his forearms, getting him to tighten his embrace. "Uhm, it looked like you were busy with those girls; I didn’t want to interrupt."

The chuckle that bubbled in his throat tickled her ear. "We're a bit jealous, aren't we?" Killian withdrew his arms and walked away, sitting down on the stool next to hers. She missed his contact instantly, but she straightened her back, trying to hide her disappointment.

"Keep dreaming, Jones." Nevermind the fact that I am, of course...  

"Have you been drinking?" Killian cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, pointing at the empty glass on the counter and causing Emma the urge to roll her eyes.

"I don't have to take medication anymore if that's what's bothering you." Emma paused as an idea formed in her head. "I was waiting for you to join me, to toast in honor of your performance, and to thank you for your dedication."

"About that." As he spoke, Killian leaned over the counter to reach the compartment for the glasses and grabbed one of them. His movement caused his shirt to move up a bit, exposing an area of his lower back. Her fingertips began to tingle, longing to touch that patch of revealed skin. "It was the least I could do, given the circumstances." Emma had to blink a couple of times, trying to focus on his words.

It was a difficult task. The way he was looking at her with such intensity made it almost impossible to restrain her impulses and throw her arms around his neck as her mouth devoured him. Instead, she tried to distract her mind to avoid doing anything she could regret later. It was all in vain, though, because all she could think of was that, thanks to the new unexpected plan that Elsa and Liam had brought to her attention, they were going to spend next Monday night together again. She wasn't quite sure what the intentions of both Liam and Elsa were, but, despite her emerging suspicions, she wasn't going to give up the opportunity to spend as much time as possible with Killian. Even if it would almost be like torture to her. A sweet torture, actually.

//

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think :)

This would be the last chapter that I posted in the original version, so from here there will only be new content. I hope you like it. What to expect in the next chapter? New flashback with a new song included. This chapter also includes one of my favorite scenes so far. And... movie night may not go as expected...

[tlwamerica]

Real Estate Trends 2021: What You Need to Know

Real Estate Trend #1: Slim Pickings for Home Buyers

For perspective, inventory was down nearly 30% in the early months of 2021 compared to the previous year. There just weren’t enough houses for sale over the year to meet buyer demand.

What Slim Pickings Mean for Buyers

Low inventory means you need to be on your toes when you go house hunting—the best homes will likely be snatched up fast. At the start of spring 2021, most homes sold around 20 days faster compared to the past several springs.3 That doesn’t leave much time to hem and haw over your home search. If you want to find a good home in this slim market, here’s some advice:

 Sacrifice some wants. If you can’t find the house you want, be willing to give up some “nice-to-haves” for your “must-haves.” Find the least expensive home in the best neighborhood you can afford and upgrade over time.

 Expand your search. What if the location where you’re planning to buy is too competitive? You might be surprised at the gem you can find in a less popular neighborhood. Working with a real estate agent who really knows the area is the best way to find a home that fits your budget and lifestyle.

 Get preapproved ASAP. Getting preapproved for a mortgage before you go house hunting is a must in any market. But in a market with such a limited home supply, not doing this legwork ahead of time gives a preapproved buyer free reign to swipe the home you want right out of your hands.

What Slim Pickings Mean for Sellers

Low inventory means low selling competition! You can probably expect to see offer letters flooding your mailbox the same way Hogwarts sent Harry Potter his acceptance letters. Since your home will be one of the (relatively) few listed on the market, you could be in the driver’s seat. So enjoy possibly picking the best offer and moving at a pace that best suits your timeline.

But after your home is sold, you probably won’t be in the driver’s seat anymore (if you’re buying again). So decide on plans for your next home before you sell.

Real Estate Trend #2: Home Prices Are Still Rising

Next up: home price trends. In the early months of 2021, home prices grew by nearly 20% compared to last year—rising to a national median of $300,000–400,000!4 Sellers, this should put a big smile on your face! And hang tight, buyers—we have some advice for you too.

What Higher Prices Mean for Buyers

If you’re going to buy a home in this expensive market, you absolutely must find out how much house you can really afford. Commit to staying within that budget amount no matter how much pressure you feel watching competitors pluck good homes off the market.

To feel confident about buying a home this year, follow these tips:

 Limit your house payment to no more than 25% of your monthly take-home pay. This payment includes principal, interest, property taxes, homeowner’s insurance and, if your down payment is lower than 20%, private mortgage insurance (PMI). Plus, don’t forget to consider homeowner’s association (HOA) fees when preparing your budget.

 Save at least a 10–20% down payment. A 20% or more down payment helps you avoid PMI—an extra fee added to your mortgage to protect your lender (not you) in case you don’t make payments. Anything less than 10% will drown you in extra interest and fees. Saving a big down payment like this is possible! If you stay patient and motivated, you can save for a five-figure down payment by this time next year.

 Choose a 15-year fixed-rate conventional mortgage. The overall lowest cost home loan is a 15-year fixed-rate mortgage. Rip-off mortgages like the 30-year mortgage, FHA, VA, USDA, and adjustable-rate ones will charge you so much extra in interest and fees and keep you in debt for decades. No thanks.

Now crunch the numbers yourself with our mortgage calculator and figure out a monthly payment your budget can handle. And then work with an expert agent to find houses for sale within that budget.

What Higher Prices Mean for Sellers

A nice profit may be on the horizon! And that’s great news because you’ll really want that extra money when buying your next home. To get the best offer for your home, work with an experienced real estate agent who really knows your local market.

And be sure to wait for the right offer. Some buyers may try to gut punch you with a low number. If you aren’t in a hurry to move, wait for an offer that gives you the most profit. Remember, the less desperate person always has the upper hand when negotiating.

Real Estate Trend #3: Mortgage Interest Rates Are Still Super Low

What Lower Rates Mean for Buyers

Sure, interest rates are low right now—which can help with affordability. Just be careful not to let that pressure you into buying a house when you aren’t really ready. A super low interest rate on a house you can’t afford is still a bad deal. So remember to stick to our advice on monthly payment limit, down payment amount and mortgage type (see Trend #2) and you’ll be in great shape!

What Lower Rates Mean for Sellers

If interest rates stay low, buyers will be more motivated to buy your home sooner than later. But if interest rates do start to increase later in the year, just plan for your house to be on the market a little longer. If you don’t plan on moving anytime soon, you might still be able to take advantage of these super low interest rates and shorten your payment schedule by refinancing your mortgage.

Real Estate Trend #4: Online Real Estate Services Are Growing

No doubt you’ve heard of real estate services like Zillow that allow you to browse or list homes for sale online with the click of a button. But did you know that online services are now offering to buy and sell your house for you?

Third-Party Buyers

Here’s how it works: You tell companies like Zillow or Opendoor about the house you want to sell. They buy it from you, pump some money into it to resell at a higher price, handle all the home processing stuff like inspections, repairs, and home showings, and then charge you pretty much the same as an agent commission for selling costs—plus, some of these companies include an additional service fee (icing on their cake). They promise less hassle, but it may mean less profit for you than working with a top-notch agent who could sell your home for more money.

Using a “Virtual” Agent

Hybrid services like Redfin aim to reduce traditional agent commissions by handling things online. This gives you partial services that are similar to working with an agent, but for a fraction of the cost. Think of it as a middle ground between selling with an agent and selling by yourself. But when selling a home, be wary of the middle ground. Your home is your biggest asset, and you get what you pay for!

Mobile or Online Closings

In related news, digital technology is also making it easier to handle document-based tasks virtually. For example, many home transactions are using electronic signature apps and remote online notarization to streamline the process.7 In other words, there’s a chance you can buy or sell a house this year without getting out of your car or ever changing out of your bathrobe and slippers.

Real Estate Trend #5: Risky Buying Options Are More Accessible

Rent-to-Own

First, if you’re itching to buy a home but can’t quite afford it yet, some sellers like Divvy offer a rent-to-own agreement. In this deal, you agree to rent the home for a specific amount of time (could be several months to several years) before becoming the owner. The plus side of rent-to-own is that it allows you to bypass the time it takes to save for a down payment and get into a house fast. Also, it means you don’t have to qualify for a mortgage right away.

The downside of rent-to-own is that it makes your rent more expensive because some of your monthly payment will go toward future homeownership. But if you later decide you don’t want to buy the house or something breaks your contract, all those extra payments will have been a waste. Plus, you may be required to handle repairs and maintenance yourself even while renting! This option leaves you in a very vulnerable place financially.

Bottom line: If you feel like you can’t afford homeownership, it’s best to wait until your financial ducks are in a row.

Loans for Down Payments

Another risky buying option to avoid is taking out a personal loan to fund a down payment. Purchasing a home with no money down is never a good idea. Remember, you want at least a 10–20% down payment. Buying a house with anything less will rob you of your other financial goals by having you pay too much extra in interest and fees. Thankfully, not many mortgage lenders allow you to do this—plus, it can even hinder your ability to qualify for the amount of mortgage you need.

Origined from: https://www.tlw.com/news/view-121.html

[allondonboy]

Medicine for the Soul (Ch 11)

Chapter 11 - Allegretto non troppo: molto crescendo  (Ch 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10)

For all of us who have shitty parents.

Thanks as always to Anna @jjeanmorreau

Feedback always gratefully received

---

The start to spring break doesn’t go as they expect.

“Alex.”

There’s something in Eliza’s voice that makes Alex’s chest warm and their throat close up and they take a deep breath.

“Mom.”

They watch each other. Alex’s stance slips into one of defiance when Eliza says nothing more. She reaches for them then thinks better of it and sighs, walking to the couch and settling back against the cushions.

“Come. Sit with me.”

Alex does, slowly, curling one foot beneath them.

“How was the end of the semester?”

“Fine,” Alex says shortly. Eliza’s face drops.

“I’ve done some research,” she says, “into what you told me.”

Alex freezes. They hold their breath as Eliza lets out another long sigh.

“I can’t pretend to understand it, sweetie, but I want to try.”

“You…” Alex struggles to sort through the barrage of emotions thundering through them. “Really?”

“All I want is what’s best for you.”

“Until now, that’s been ignoring ‘this non-binary nonsense’, so what’s changed, Mom?” It’s snide but they can’t help it, can’t help thinking that this is a trap as much as they want to believe Eliza is changing, can’t help hoping that this is where it gets better.

“Alex.” Of all the things they expect to hear, it’s not regret, and they sit up. They’ve never heard either of their parents voice regret. “I was wrong.”

Alex lets out a long, shuddering breath through chattering teeth as their chest tightens again in disbelief.

“You were telling me something important about yourself and I dismissed it because I was scared. I am scared. You’re my – my child, and hearing that you’re choosing a life like this makes me worry as a mother because the world out there isn’t kind to people like that – people like you.”

“I’m not choosing this, Mom.”

They don’t know where to look. They can hear in Eliza’s words the same mother who held them when they were sick, who put their fingerpainted portraits on the fridge, who kissed their bruised knees, who they’ve been longing to see all this time, open and honest and loving and there for them, and now, now, she is.

She’s here.

“Right.” Eliza nods in their peripheral vision. “Yes. Maybe – maybe you could help me? Explain some of this to me?”

Alex swallows. “Okay. Yeah.” A million thoughts fight to be the first one out of their mouth and they force them into now and later. A couple slide into angry, but the loudest one is the overwhelming bruise of hurt.

“I need you to know,” they say, “that you hurt me. I don’t know, I don’t think you meant to, but you did.”

They look at her then, and it’s like they’ve shrunken back to their five-year-old height, nervous about coming clean about what really happened to Jeremiah’s latest bird house.

“I didn’t mean to,” says Eliza. “You have to know that, Alex. I would never try to hurt you.”

Alex nods like they believe it. Eliza sighs.

“I want you to understand – growing up, I was always the oddball. There were even fewer women in my area of work than there are today.”

“I know that.”

“I know you do. To hear you say that you were not a woman -”

Alex shakes their head and holds up a hand. “No, I still – part of me still feels like a woman.”

“Okay.” Eliza nods slowly. “So, to hear you say that you were outside the man-woman binary – yes? – sounded like another obstacle in the way of an incredibly promising career.”

Alex grits their teeth as anger claws its way to the surface. “I need you to stop thinking about grades or work or how any of this is going to affect any of that. This is about me, as a person. This hurts, Mom. Dysphoria hurts. The wrong name, the wrong pronouns, hurts. And you know as well as I do that I want to succeed but right now, I just want to be happy.”

Silence settles between them, thick with charged emotion. Eliza scoots closer to Alex and rests a hand on their knee.

“I wanted you to be better than me. To have all the opportunities that I never had, to take the world by storm and change it like you’ve always tried to do. I realised, when you were last home, that that is down to you and the person you have become, and I am so proud of that person.”

Alex gives a one-armed shrug and Eliza chuckles quietly. “You never could take a compliment. Just like your dad.”

Alex shrugs again. Eliza continues.

“I’m proud of all of you, Alex. Even the parts I don’t understand. It’s something special to see the child you’ve raised become so sure of who they are, especially when society isn’t the most accepting.” Eliza makes sure she has Alex’s eye contact. “I’m sorry I was a part of that.”

Eliza opens her arms and Alex shuffles into them and for the first time in so many years, they don’t shy away from the hug or flinch at the squeeze, and they squeeze back with all of them because now, Eliza wants all of them.  

--

“Just say child.”

“You’re older than a child.”

Alex sighs and looks patiently at Eliza. “I don’t mind it, I promise.”

“Mini-me.”

“Kara - ”

“Oh no, is that offensive?”

“No - ”

“Offspring?”

“No, Kara.”

“Descendant.”

“Child is fine.”

“Progeny.”

Alex and Eliza both stare at Kara as she holds up her hands defensively.

“Just a suggestion!”

“I never should have given you that thesaurus,” mutters Alex and Kara hits them with said thesaurus, held open at child: noun.

“My daughter Kara and my progeny Alex,” says Eliza, and she cracks a smile that startles Alex into a snort. “Nice try, Kara.”

“Just use child,” says Alex. “I would appreciate it.”

Eliza pours another glass of water and takes a long sip.

---

“Alex, what’s this I hear about your violin?”

Alex drops their fork. “You – what – who - ”

“A mother has her ways.” Kara’s innocent eyes aren’t hiding anything and Alex kicks her shin under the table. “It’s great that you’re playing again, sweetie.”

“I guess,” says Alex.

“It’s been a long time.” Alex gives Eliza full marks for trying but they can’t deny how good it feels to talk about something other than work, let alone something from another time completely.

Packing to go to college is the first time they’ve properly sorted through their stuff since Kara arrived and they had to make room for her. It unearths a lot of things they’d forgotten about, both deliberately and not, and what had started a simple exercise of deciding what to take with them ends up as a jolting trip down memory lane.

College is the first big step in their life that Jeremiah isn’t there to take with them.

And they hate it.

More than that, they’re scared.

At least at home, the walls carry whispers of him and the memories are so vivid that Alex can almost see him standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for them. When they butt heads with Eliza, they imagine him stepping in, always the peacekeeper, calming them down and making sure both sides are heard.

Someone had told them they would be too busy at Stanford to miss home. Alex thinks it was supposed to be reassuring, but instead they feel sick.

If they don’t miss home, they aren’t missing Jeremiah.

If they aren’t missing Jeremiah, they’ll forget him.

If they forget him…

They’ll lose him again.

Vasquez’s advice about the third movement plays through their head on the journey back to Stanford.

The conversations with Eliza had unlocked a new kind of energy inside of them. Getting up was a little less hard, breathing a little more easy, and their mind is clearer and more focussed. It leads to revelations in a way they don’t expect, and one of those revelations is that Jeremiah is the key to unlocking the concerto.

He’d never heard them play it in full. They’d talked about it and planned it, down to the meal they’d have before Alex went on stage, but they’d never got it anywhere near performance standard. Learning to play it is the embodiment of moving on from him and acknowledging that they’re making progress and that he’s never going to show up to graduation or concerts or surfing competitions ever again.

Their first practice back is spent annotating the third movement and letting it run through their mind. For all these years, music had been an escape for them, but as they sit there, pencil tapping the page and describing the odd phrase with broad gestures, it hits them that it could – should – be a memorial.

After all, if music could transcend time and space, who’s to say that he wasn’t watching and listening to them right now?

--

The more they ruminate and the more they practice, the more their mind starts to drift towards Maggie as they play.

Maggie…Maggie is new. Maggie is post-Jeremiah. They think he’d have loved her. They’d have got on, for sure, and frankly, they can imagine the pair of them ganging up on Alex to tease them.

They want to be vulnerable with Maggie, but fuck is it terrifying. Baring their soul when they’ve spent so long barring it up, letting their heart sit behind a wall of armour, keeping emotions boxed up and tucked neatly away in the back of their mind. But Maggie, Maggie is the first person they’ve met who makes them want to talk about all of those feelings down to their favourite memories of Jeremiah and how the gaping hole in their chest from his death is starting to heal, the tiniest bit, with her help and her love.

--

Maggie hesitates at the threshold as Alex sets up, aware of what it means, that Alex has invited her to hear them play. One on one, it’s already intimate even as Alex does something as mundane as a couple of warm up scales.

They’ve set out a chair for her at the edge of the room. Finding her leaning against the door jamb, they gesture to it with their head and a smile that sets Maggie’s heart at ease. She slowly sits and slumps down comfortably, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankle. Alex darts forward to press a quick kiss to her lips that leaves her blushing and her thumbs fidgeting happily with each other.

“Vasquez isn’t here, obviously,” says Alex as they flatten out their music and settle their bow in their right hand, “and I don’t have the backing track, so you’ll have to use your imagination.”

Maggie nods, trying to reassure Alex and herself at the same time. It seems to work for them, because they close their eyes, take a deep breath, and then the music starts.

“What makes you happy? What makes you really, uncontrollably happy?”

Alex shrugs. “I like science.”

“You need stronger than ‘like’, Alex. What do you love?”

“I…” Alex looks out of the window. The tree is still there, though there are leaves on its branches now, and as they watch, a squirrel scurries down the trunk and disappears. “I love surfing?”

“Okay.” Their teacher nods. “Why do you love surfing?”

“It’s freedom, I guess.” Alex looks down at their bow and pulls off a stray hair. “It’s me, my board, and the water. I’m in control but I’m free.”

“Good! Good!” The teacher is on her feet once more. “Tell me more! What else do you love?”

“Kara,” Alex says after a minute.

“Your sister?”

“Yeah.” Alex adjusts their violin in their grip and scratches their nose, pushing their glasses back up. “Yeah, I love her,” they say, almost to themselves, and the teacher picks up the hint that there’s not really anything else to be said about that.

“Right. Now play, and think of Kara.”

“What were you thinking about?” Maggie’s soft question surprises even her as it breaks the silence. Alex opens their eyes slowly to meet hers.

"What makes you happy?  What makes you really uncontrollably happy?"

"You."

--

It’s slow, and it’s fast. There are hands everywhere and lips blazing trails across skin. It’s fumbling and clumsy as they get caught in their clothes and trip onto the wall, cursing in breathless exhales that turn into giggles.

It’s unlike anything they’ve done before: not in the substance but in the fervour, in how they hold each other as though they were drowning, in the wordless understanding that suddenly connects them.

Alex keeps their eyes locked with Maggie’s as she masters their body with the same finesse with which she plays her guitar. It’s an indescribable feeling of their heart both bursting and being caressed by someone they trust in a way they’ve never trusted anyone before. Calm and peace fights to undo the grip of blissful chaos winding through them and eventually, limbs tangle in the best of ways as they both succumb to dreamless sleep.

[parkerjasmine1996]

restored salvage title insurance

BEST ANSWER: Try this site where you can compare quotes from different companies :bestinsurancequotes.top

restored salvage title insurance

restored salvage title insurance for the vehicle. In addition to the minimum liability required by your state, your insurance premium will also require a certificate of insurance (or surety bond) to prove financial responsibility and to provide evidence the vehicle will be serviced upon request. The minimum amount of insurance required also includes the liability coverage, which will pay for your medical bills and auto repair costs. If you opt-out of the liability coverage, you need a surety bond. While you cannot rely on the minimum limits set forth by your car manufacturer, insurance companies are permitted to consider the needs of their clients. This means the insurance is usually priced competitive with some other options available in the market. Auto insurance companies are free to develop an insurance policy in response to an incident occurring. If you choose a high-value vehicle, you will likely want more insurance than the minimum required. If someone else is driving a luxury vehicle, for instance, they may not have the right amount for their vehicle. Insuring a car for your luxury. restored salvage title insurance, where the owner can be sued for damages up to a million. This is where life insurance comes into play, however, so you don’t have to settle for a few thousand dollars out of pocket to get ahold on it. It’s easy to get stuck on your own motorcycle insurance as a motorcycle owner. With the and comprehensive insurance offered by Nationwide Insurance, you will always be able to purchase it from Nationwide. Your motorcycle insurance policy can take anywhere from 20 to 60 days either at Nationwide or a Nationwide agent. That, of course, depends on your specific policy and your state insurance minimums. Nationwide and Nationwide are two of the best motorcycle insurance companies in the U.S. and offer no-exam coverage for motorcycle owners up to . These are the best rates for motorcycle insurance policy: If you are a biker or you want to obtain a policy that covers motorcycles, you will need to purchase one that includes comprehensive insurance. Since comprehensive will cover up. restored salvage title insurance policies are still being considered, as they may have some “flawless” questions about the product’s coverage, which are not subject to review by the insurance company. The good news? There are lots of ways an insurance company can protect its property. Most home insurance policies protect a $1 million dollar loan for additional insurance. However, it’s important to know what type of coverage you’re purchasing and how much it will cost you to update the policy to show the new value of the vehicle on the salvage value page, as a means to sell it to a potential buyer. If you want to be able to save the money you will have to save money. Here are a couple of benefits to buying a vehicle such as a Jeep or a Honda Civic that you won’t be able to find through the traditional salvage auction. You could just call a salvage yard and get paid. You will also be getting a new vehicle. Many dealerships will let.

Does car color affect insurance?

Does car color affect insurance? When it comes to the car color issue, there are many factors that affect car insurance. One of those factors is gender. The most obvious factor is the vehicle. A vehicle is less risky in this way with less money that can be used for the insurance. So as you can see in the chart below, one of the biggest factors that impact one’s car insurance is the vehicle in the driver’s hands. Now that you know more about the car color issue and how to get the best car insurance, take a look at our articles where we discussed how insurance companies take all these factors into consideration and how to get cheap coverage. Now, where are the other ratings from insurance companies to consider when looking for cheap car insurance? For the average driver, getting an initial quote is the best way to get an accurate estimate of how much money drivers will pay for car insurance. The first thing is to find what kind of car insurance options are available. There are many options on the.

Can You Get Insurance On a Car With a Salvage Title?

Can You Get Insurance On a Car With a Salvage Title? Yes. Your insurance company can issue a judgment of damages, or may have some sort of limit on payout, depending on the law in your state. In general, states with salvage laws require the owner of a salvage title to be at least 50% responsible for payment of all insured costs and associated losses. In order for the owner of a salvage title to collect and pay any legal and legal costs associated with the removal of a title, you must comply with the law. If you do not have insurance, you may be subject to legal fees, a fine, suspension of your license, or both. When is a salvage title to insurance? The process is similar to that of a title: your insurance provider may issue a judgment of damages, which means you must pay the fees associated with the salvage title, plus whatever court costs you may be entitled to recover (including court costs and court costs for recovery of damages related to damage to the title and/or restoration of the title). After you have received.

Can I get full coverage insurance on a rebuilt title car?

Can I get full coverage insurance on a rebuilt title car? Yes, but this depends on whether a title car is owned and under contract with someone else. That’s usually impossible, depending on the type of car with the title but not owned by the owner. No, title cars are not considered “renter” property. They only have to be registered with the insurer and maintained for up to nine years. Once that claim is filed, the insurance company reviews the status and changes of the car’s status within two months. That process takes the car as long as two months or until the car is registered. It should also state whether the insurance company keeps the title, regardless of how long it takes. It always costs more to get full coverage for a rebuilt car since you will pay more than you would to get liability-only insurance. I will be paying $150/day for my car that gets totaled but gets totaled twice? I like to have the title at home to stay with the title, no more has to go.

Can I insure a rebuilt title car?

Can I insure a rebuilt title car? If you get a car that you didn’t actually own, you probably won’t be able to get insurance based on its restoration value, and you’ll probably even have to sell it. That’s because a car that’s not worth the investment to you isn’t worth the price, it’s insurance. So if you’re thinking “yes” to this new purchase of a car, do you really have to insure it? The answer is yes, you can do this. You can even transfer ownership if it’s only owned by you for the rest of its life, but for many cars we’ve mentioned it’s probably not worth the trouble. Even if this is the case, it might be worth looking into a policy to cover your car if it’s not worth the price. And there are always options, just like for newer cars, that might be worth considering. So.

What Insurance Companies Cover Salvage Titles?

What Insurance Companies Cover Salvage Titles? No No No No » MORE If you’ve been in a car accident with another driver who was injured, have another injuries, or just have another car in the garage, these costs will not be covered by your car insurance. and will they still be able to pay you for the damages and to see how they would compare to the other driver. All states require uninsured motorist coverage in Illinois. (UM) requires this type of insurance. Illinois motorists must have an open auto liability claim form, an forms- and motorist license if they want to pursue the money for their medical costs. Illinois auto insurance providers can “stand behind” their coverage by providing the insurance type at the time of the claim. This type of insurance often pays the medical costs incurred by motorists who have had a , a medical payment.

Three More Hurdles: Financing, Insurance and Resale

Three More Hurdles: Financing, Insurance and Resale, Life Insurance, Property Protection Insurance, Liability Insurance, Medical Payments and Workers’ Compensation Insurance Weigh these three criteria together to produce a product that is affordable and competitive by leveraging a variety of tools and methods to help find and market the best coverage in the state of Florida. We look for you to become part of our family of skilled advisers, who will help you build a long-term and prosperous partnership, helping you manage your insurance needs, and help you make the right decisions about coverage, payment and service. We offer insurance for property, casualty, liability, liability insurance, and commercial property insurance. To help make insurance easy and efficient, our expert consultants will work with you to understand your specific needs and take pride in providing tailored, professional advice on what is right for you and your family. If you’re considering moving to Tampa, don’t just take our word for it. You’ll be happy you took the time to learn more about the area you.

Is a rebuilt title bad for insurance?

Is a rebuilt title bad for insurance? Here’s why…. No. An auto dealership is not a licensed company nor is it required to insure your vehicle at all. An auto dealership is simply a pawn shop — that is licensed at the dealership, selling you car insurance policies. If you sell your mechanic car through a private broker or a direct auto insurance policy agent, he/she will own the car, sell you the policy, and make payments to the dealership. If the car is not part of the seller’s hands-off plan, you can buy it for a little under $20 per month. Many shops are willing to cover the mechanic car for a small premium. However, they are going to charge a set amount for their car for the mechanic insurance coverage. Some shops will charge a little extra to insure more. An auto dealer will only be able to insure mechanic cars under certain circumstances. A car insurance company may not be the dealer’s responsibility, but an Auto A Dealer (aka.) can..

Can I buy car insurance without a license?

Can I buy car insurance without a license? Or can I get car insurance if I have a learner’s permit? Yes, you can get car insurance without a license on a limited basis. In addition to being covered under the learner’s permit driver, a minimum of insurance will also serve as a bridge between fully licensed adults and the licensed or resident parent. The key to a reasonable premium against an uninsured driver, however, is in the amount of driving history that a learner’s permit driver is given. Many factors determine the vehicle’s value and value of its value. As with older vehicles, car insurance premiums generally start at approximately $30 each year and may increase with age. The cheapest car insurance companies for beginners are found in the states of Kentucky, Virginia, North Carolina, and North Carolina. For example, we looked at price, customer service, and pricing to determine which companies have the best deal for new drivers. Car insurance premiums tend to be even more expensive for experienced drivers than for.

Compare Car Insurance Quotes

Compare Car Insurance Quotes Insurance Type Auto Home Life Medicare Health Get Quotes Secured with SHA-256 Encryption Review Information I agree with you: you want to get cheap car insurance online only. You want to have the cheapest car insurance you can afford. But I m still wondering if you can get cheap insurance with lower minimums that offer good coverage for less than 1.8% of the annual car insurance? If you have multiple policies (bodily injury, etc) or other different types of insurance the car insurance rates can vary on your behalf, or even change completely based on state laws or insurance providers. But it s nice to know there is a good deal you can get affordable insurance online. Which car insurance companies are generally willing to work with you and help you build your policy? This is a little tricky to say - but it s something to keep in mind if you plan on driving in.

[simplysolveduae]

Dig Into the Best Outsourcing Services Providers

They state the new pattern in business is Outsourcing Services. This developing system is currently regularly taken by both little organizations and considerable companies to decrease cost and bolster business development. Outsourcing Services for IT, HR Outsourcing, bookkeeping, client care, and different capacities have undoubtedly become a familiar pattern.

There are loads of choices that should make, and various stages to attempt before this strategy can emerge. A portion of the fundamental exercises should incorporate arranging a Outsourcing Services methodology, sourcing numerous specialist organizations, and picking the redistributing area.

In this article, the last is to talk about in more subtleties. In beginning phases of building up a redistributing plan, choosing which nation is the ideal cut for a business' particular activities occurs. There are two elements in the determination procedure for the best redistributing goal. These incorporate the workforce's appealing quality and its financial aspects and dangerous allure and dangers of the nation.

The Workforce to Deal With 

One of the fundamental reasons that pull in outsourcers to move to Outsourcing Services is the entrance to an exceptionally qualified workforce at a decreased expense. Envision the contrast between a six-digit pay request of an UAE programming engineer and the $500 for a Filipino designer's specialized capability. That is a lot of reserve funds directly here, a sound reason for the dynamic inclining to redistributing development.

Be that as it may, besides the lower overhead expense, there still are various contemplations redistributing customers need to consider before making any agreement. What's more, the nation's HR Outsourcing services in UAE ought to be first to given a lot of consideration.

Instinctually, the workforce is a significant player in the redistributing game. The achievement or break-down of the Outsourcing Services relationship is enormously tie to the connection between the customer and the specialist co-ops' laborers.

Chiefs ought to guarantee that their possibility for their quest for appropriate redistributing goals' workforce has the accompanying characteristics: capability in English and different dialects, skill in IT apparatuses, applications and programming, prevalent instruction quality, best strategic policies, and social versatility, and magnificent administration forms.

Outsourcing Accounting Services - Generating Competitive Advantages for Small Businesses!

For non-money related individuals taking care of Outsource Accounting Services in UAE and funds can be the mammoth errands. What's more, when working in a private company, you will wish to give more consideration towards the central parts of the business as opposed to investing energy while dealing with the records and funds.

Be that as it may, the significance of accounting services for merely any business can't dismiss. To deal with this errand legitimately, presently, you ought to consider redistributing accounting administrations.

Nowadays, numerous entrepreneurs are doing as such and getting incredible advantages. Presently a day's finding the most moderate and viable accounting administrations are anything but a severe deal.

With the web's assistance, you can discover these administrations effectively and recruit one that best suits your prerequisites and spending plan. By going to such aid, you can without much of a stretch upgrade the efficiencies, security means, and adaptability for your private company and its related information.

Most definitely, it is growing at an extraordinary pace over the globe. Both the recipients and players' numbers are taking off in this industry. Simultaneously, a few organizations are approaching to offer redistributing accounting, like the support of the entrepreneurs who wish to give more consideration towards the center of their business.

This office has genuinely improved the level of network, speed, and space for the entrepreneurs. If you search for this redistributing industry, at that point, you can find that it is the most recent few years; it has developed exponentially.

This industry has offered the private company the best money related accounting administrations and helped them accomplish new statures. Things being what they are, how one can take advantage of the redistributing accounting administrations?

• Making it work can help you in focusing more on a few different business necessities and needs

• It can robotize the voluminous and complex procedures

• It can set aside cash, time and exertion

• It will assist you with accessing practical, huge and gifted work pool

• Redistributing accounting administrations can produce upper hand

• Outsourcing Accounting errands can cultivate rapidly

• Entrepreneurs can appreciate the upsides of cutting edge joint efforts

• Now you will have the option to improve consumer loyalty while offering them convenient and effective handling identified with their solicitations, extends just as administration changes.

• You will be liberated from dealing with the records and representatives

VAT Guide and Advice for Business Starters  

Individuals who want to begin a business in UAE should get familiar with the correct ways regardless of how little or large the company is. At the point when you open a shop, store, or organization, it is essential to get acquainted with the legalities incorporated.

As a starter, you have this expectation that your organization will develop, and it is your objective to guarantee the business' development. Else try not to wander. Indeed, something you ought to be sharp about is the worth included assessment items or VAT Filing.

That is why learners should ask exhortation from individuals who have been in the field for some time. There is not a viable alternative for data that you can get from experienced representatives. You can't depend on your senses since business needs considerably more than impulses.

If you imagine that viewpoints like VAT Filing in UAE can ignore until some other time throughout your business, you ought to reexamine. Each entrepreneur is ordering to enroll for Worth Included Expense. You will document charges toward the year's end at any rate, and you have to present your settlements on schedule. Hesitation may have positive results.

The measure of significant worth included expense depends on the estimation of the products or administrations, which incorporates those being imported and traded. As you would have heard, the rates are either 17.5% or zero.

Most merchandise and ventures are liable to esteem included duty, and they are called available supplies, yet not all are enrolled, however. All organizations ought to employ for respect included commitment once they produce available merchandise surpassing built-up limits.

For example, in UAE, when the available supplies surpassed the estimated 50,000 DE in the earlier year, the vendor or dealer should enlist inside a month (30 days). Otherwise, he could confront punishments.

Calculation of duties on merchandise can be taken care of by bookkeepers, and it's just a case when these experts require in the business. Their job inside the organization traverses something other than figuring charges.

Worth included duty raises the costs of products purchased by shoppers. Be that as it may, the significant motivation behind this duty on products is to give the VAT legislation extra income. This duty will help inspire the economy of a nation.

On account of this, numerous countries around the globe have forced this sort of assessment on most merchants.

Company Liquidation - What It Means and What Happens     

How you handle organization liquidation relies upon the conditions prompting it. Fundamentally, there are two different ways that an organization can wind up in liquidation, and they are deliberate, which happened involuntary liquidation and automatic happening because of permanent settlement. 

 Your business is rendered indebted, and resources are these lines sold, and the returns from the deal used to reimburse lenders to clear any obligation you may have.    That means they are followed in the liquidation procedure rely upon the liquidation type. 

Yet, the system generally includes auctioning off organization possessions and property, and afterward, this is trail by complete disintegration and even conclusion of your organization.   

 It implies that whether liquidation is mandatory or deliberate brings about something very similar; loan bosses paid as could reasonably be expected, and the organization essentially stops to be in presence.    

 Necessary liquidation - what occurs?    

 For this sort of Liquidation Company in UAE, a wrapping up request is held up by a gathering with the court, so that bankrupt organization ended up recuperating any outstanding obligation. 

Generally, the solicitor is a lender.   However, it cans likewise an official recipient or an investor or even a secretary of state now and again. It is also genuinely workable for organization chiefs to hold up this request lawfully, yet view as a deliberate sort of liquidation.   

 There are a few circumstances that can prompt an organization to compel to go into obligatory liquidation. Probably the most well-known things that lead to the settlement are:    

Owed  charges 

Liabilities  and obligation adds up to that surpass the genuine resource estimation of  the organization 

Powerlessness  to pay due obligations 

Organization  individuals falling beneath legal least recommended 

Inability  to re-register the private or open organization as suitable 

No  exchanging initiated inside a legal time of fuse set up 

At the point when the liquidation procedure is in progress, the benefits of the bankrupt organization start too sold and all suit that include the organization stops. That necessarily implies any right move made by the leasers to stay void when liquidation begins.

[honeymoonjin]

A/N: It’s here!!! Like I said before, this fic will be a lot lighter and more humor-based than DOPE, so that you have some variety! 3k words.

LOST IN TRANSLATION ↳What do you do when you have no qualifications but want to see the world? You help teach English in a Korean primary school, apparently. ↳Principal!Jin, math teacher!Yoongi, PE teacher!Hoseok, English teacher!Namjoon, school nurse!Jimin, art teacher!Taehyung, and science teacher!Jungkook.

CHAPTER ONE ↳You arrive in Seoul and begin to meet the teachers you’ll be spending your whole year with.

You hover awkwardly in the arrivals foyer, consulting your phone again, reading the email you had been sent a week ago. According to the information given, there should’ve been someone there for you already, waiting to drive you to the school.

But no matter how often you glanced around, up on your tiptoes as you tried to scan the massive area of Incheon International Airport, you couldn’t see any signs with your name on them.

Oh shit, you thought, what if they’ve written my name in Hangeul? You sigh and begin another dutiful look-over, deeply focused on the countless signs with Korean characters on them, trying to recognise ones that would make up your first or last name.

You just about jump out of your skin when someone taps you on the shoulder out of nowhere.

“Are you Y/n, here for teaching?” He’s younger than you were expecting for a schoolteacher, although you remember the email stating he was in charge of physical education and the rec sports teams, so maybe it was better to have someone still pretty fit. And he definitely was fit. Although he was in a grass-stained polo shirt and basketball shorts, he had a contagious smile and kind eyes, and his dark, wavy hair was endearingly a little bit messy.

Clearly you were looking over him for a little too long, because he smiles sheepishly and pats down his shirt. “Sorry about the messy clothes. I came straight from practice.”

You frown, hoping your Korean will be at least coherent if not entirely correct. “But it is 8am.”

He gives you a wide beam and laughs a little as you get through the sentence one syllable at a time. “Yes, soccer practice is from 6am to 7:30 on a Monday morning.”

“Oh. The kids still play soccer when it is very early?”

He shrugs, beginning to lead you towards the carpark area. “Actually, we have 6am sport every day of the week. Soccer on Monday, basketball on Tuesday, swimming on Wednesday. You get the idea.”

“And you teach all sport teams?”

“Your Korean is fantastic, you know?” He chimes the final part in a cutely accented English, and you blush at the praise, shaking your head modestly. “I teach almost all of the sport teams. Technically the mathematics competition team is classified as a sports team, but Teacher Min does that. You’ll meet him later.”

You nod slowly as he talks, a little overwhelmed by how fast he’s speaking. You had studied the language for five years, but all of the other teacher’s assistants you had spoken to had said a thousand times how when you were finally confronted by a native speaker in that country, your mind went blank and you forgot every single word.

It was what you had been obsessively worrying about on the whole red-eye flight over, and you were lucky that some last minute studying had made you feel a little more confident in your abilities.

He comes to a stop beside a shabby Nissan, unlocking it and gesturing for you to get into the passenger side. It smells like sweat in there, and you can see a random assortment of various balls and other equipment stashed into the backseat and boot. “Sorry about the mess in the back,” he apologises, starting the car up and pulling away towards the exits.

“You don’t need to apologise, I’m very thankful you drive me from airport to school.” The matter is forgotten completely as the car breaches the exit and your eyes are filled with light. Several skyscrapers dot the horizon line in the near distance, and everything looks so advanced and modern. There’s a large amount of people milling around outside, and the traffic just around the airport is rather congested, but the man navigates it with ease. You sit in a comfortable silence for a good half an hour before directing your gaze back inside the car with a sudden thought. “Sorry, I don’t know your name now.”

“Oh, you forgot?”

“Ah, yes, I forgot.”

He glances over at you intermittingly, hands relaxed on the wheel as he winds through the streets of Seoul. “My name’s Hoseok. Well, Teacher Jung.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” You purse your lips in the awkward silence that falls, trying to work out something grammatically correct to say. “Uh, the school is good? You like it?”

He hums his affirmation, and with a surprised blink you realize the car is already pulling up to a relatively small primary school, heading towards the staff parking. “You’ll love it here. The kids are great, and the staff are more like family.” He slides into a park in one clean swoop and stops the car. “Alright, out we go.”

You can’t see much of the school before you’re taken straight to the reception building, but it looks like there are only five or six classroom blocks out back, all lined up around a slightly bumpy and overgrown sports field. When you had applied to three different schools in South Korean, they were all smaller schools. You had decided you’d feel more comfortable with a rural primary school rather than a large one in the city. But you hadn’t connected the dots that a school away from the hustle and bustle of the city meant that funding wasn’t so high.

It probably worked out quite well for a school like this to get a teacher’s assistant. You had paid for your own flights, and they basically just provided you with a homestay for accommodation and a small weekly allowance for your work. Coming fresh out of a half-completed university degree, it was a nice break from student life for you, and a good opportunity for them to save a little money on staff.

One thing that immediately stuck out to you was the lack of receptionist in the reception office. Technically, it looked more like a waiting room with a few offices branching off. Hoseok bounced up to the door right across from the main entrance and rapped three times.

Principal Kim Seokjin, the plaque read, and the amount of time it took you to work that out by reading the characters, the door was falling inwards, and a warm voice called out, “Ah, Y/n, come in!”

You look up from the silver engraving and your mouth falls open. In the correspondence that had occurred between you and the principal, you had always imagined a grouchy but softhearted, slightly older gentleman. Okay, if you were honest with yourself, you just imagined Ji Seokjin from Running Man. If the shoe fits; but in this case it most certainly didn’t.

It felt like you had stumbled straight onto a cheesy k-drama set. He had honey blonde hair that swept over his much darker eyebrows, perfect bone structure and full, pouty lips that made you want to pass out just so he could perform mouth-to-mouth. “Uh…Yes, I’m Y/n. Nicetomeetyousir.”

He grins at your rushed introduction and invites you in to sit. His office is warmer than outside, and you automatically tune in to the principal’s brief conversation with Hoseok as you take off your coat and scarf.

“…those clothes. Didn’t you have time for a shower?”

“Why am I not hearing ‘Thank you, Hoseok, I’m so grateful, Hoseok’? I could’ve easily gotten Yoongi to go. She would’ve turned right back around and hopped on the next plane out of here.”

“Go back to class, Jung. Year 3 PE starts in eight minutes.”

“You’re most welcome for picking her up, sir. I appreciate the thanks.”

Principal Kim huffs and shuts the door gently behind him, making his way back to sit behind the large desk you were sitting across from. As your gaze follows him around the room, you notice a few frames nailed to the wall; a teaching certificate, a local management award, a photo of the school itself, and, larger than the rest, a professionally-shot picture of himself, with a white blouse and some round-framed glasses, lips slightly parted and staring dead-on into the camera.

You cough lightly as he turns to you with the exact same posture and expression. “How was your flight?”

“Good. I slept the flight.” Every time you say a sentence, you cringe internally when you know you’ve messed up, but he doesn’t really seem to react.

He breaks the gaze, reaches into a drawer and pulls out a stapled pile of pages, tossing it over to you to flick through. “There’s a map of the premises, though I imagine you’ll be able to find your way around soon enough, a copy of the official contract, and some general advice for living in Korea. Don’t worry too much about all that, since you’ll be living with a member of staff. He’ll take you to and from work each day and we’ve given him some extra funding for meals for you.”

You nod gratefully. “Thank you, sir. It is very helpful.”

A grin lights up his face as he leans back in his chair. “Now, that’s the boring stuff out of the way, are you ready for a tour?”

You blink, not understanding one of the words he used. “Tour?”

He gestures vaguely around himself. “I’ll show you the school, introduce you to our other teachers, that’s what tour means.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, let’s do it!”

One of the first things you learn about Kim Seokjin is that he walks pretty fast with those long legs of his, and you spent so much energy on half-jogging to keep up with him, that as he explained the history of the school, you couldn’t really focus on that too. You tried your best to make general sounds of surprise or agreement so that he thought you were listening, and hoped you weren’t missing anything too important.

It wasn’t until you finished following him around the school field that he comes to a halt outside the first classroom and you can finally zone in on what he’s saying. “…is the physical education classroom since it’s the closest to our equipment shed. Jung is teaching in there now, but you’ve already met him, so we won’t go in. You won’t really have to go over here much, but I thought I should mention that if you ever get here early, this is the only classroom that’s unlocked since it’s where the kids meet for early morning sport. There’s a bathroom in there too, so it’s a good place to stay warm until we officially open at 8am.”

You barely have to walk fifteen meters to be standing in front of the second building. Instead of staying outside on the concrete quad, he leads you up a short wooden ramp and into a small locker room. When he continues speaking, he’s dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “To the left, Class 2, that’s a basic room, we have most classes like Korean, English and Math in there.” He pops up to the small window on the door. “Ah, Min’s doing Year 5 math. Let’s go in.”

“Oh, we don’t have to…”

Your protests go unheard as he barges right in without knocking. “Can they do Pythagoras yet, Teacher Min?”

A low voice from inside the classroom calmly replies, “You can’t do Pythagoras yet, Seokjin.”

Principal Kim turns to you from half-in, half-out of the doorway, and tips his head over to get you to follow him inside.

The voice belongs to a man with dark hair and perfect skin. Like Principal Kim, he’s pretty young, and you’re beginning to regret not listening better to Kim’s speech, wondering if he had explained why all the teachers looked well under thirty so far. He’s lounging at the desk, one leg crossed leisurely over the other, eyebrows raised from behind his glossy bangs. His students, kids around 9 years old staring blankly at the three division questions written on the blackboard.

“You haven’t placed first in a regional beauty pageant, but you don’t see me complaining,” Kim bites back.

The teacher quirks his lips up a little in bemusement. “I wonder how long it’ll take you to realize that’s not a relevant achievement in the line of education.” His dark eyes flick over to you, and he raises his eyebrows further. “The new kid arrived?”

You bow to him. “Hello, my name is Y/n, nice to meet you.”

Principal Kim smiles benevolently and turns to the kids, who have long since given up on the math questions and are watching the interaction with wide eyes. “Children, Y/n will be helping you with your English. Take good care of her.” He leans over to you. “Say a little something about yourself.”

If there’s one thing worse than being put on the spot for an icebreaker, it’s being put on the spot for an icebreaker in a foreign language. Your mind whirs on double-time as you desperately try to find something interesting to say. “I have not been to Korea before, it is very kind here but more winter than my home country.”

An unreadable smile plays on Teacher Min’s lips. “What a relief that it’s English you’ll be teaching.”

You blush violently as Kim scolds the Teacher and quickly hustles you out of the classroom, shutting the door behind him with a little more vigor than usual. “Sorry about Min. He’s the only math teacher we could find. You’ll get used to him.”

“It’s fine,” you breath out with an awkward laugh, “I know my Korean is not good. I want to learn better here.”

He pats you on the shoulder, then points behind you. “That there is our art classroom, I’ll introduce you to Teacher Kim.” You frown. “Different Kim. Actually, there are three Kims at the school including me, so we call the other two Art Kim and English Kim. Anyway, let’s go in.”

You’ve always been a little biased towards the arts; you would’ve gone to university to study art history and painting were it not for your parents insistence that education was a much better field, and so it gave you a certain kind of wonder to see the people that had pursued their dreams in the field, and the kind of life they led where their job was their passion.

Your first impression of the classroom was how chaotic it was compared to the one across the hall. Instead of four lines of chairs and tables, students were bunched into small groups dotted around the room. The room itself was lined with benches; some had sinks where old streaks of paint led down the drain, some had boxes of charcoal sticks and pastels, others held cardboard sculptures and mock-ups. A fond smile played on your face at the scene you were met with. Principal Kim had chosen not to noisily announce his presence, and you could see the teacher looking like a giant on the extra small and short children’s chairs, talking quietly but passionately to a student attempting to draw an old green bottle that sat in the middle of the table.

His voice was surprisingly deep, and his hair was much longer than most men you had seen, flopping over in the front and reaching near his shirt collar in the back. Like every art teacher you had ever met, he had an endearingly quirky fashion sense, wearing a patchy pink woolen robe over a dress shirt and pants. The other students at the table bunched up as best they could, listening intensely and looking at him like he was explaining all the secrets of the universe. You remembered that feeling of awe well.

He glanced up when the principal called out his name, and let a boxy smile overtake his face. He quickly excused himself from the table and stood up to his full height, approaching you two as the kids called out in disappointment behind him.

You notice that when Principal Kim introduces the two of you, Art Kim never once takes his eyes off of you, staring at your face with some intent curiosity. You smile at him awkwardly and give a short bow. “Nice to meet you, Teacher Kim. Art is my favorite school subject.”

His lips drop open slightly. “Oh, really? Why do you like art?”

You weren’t prepared for the extremely open-ended and opinionated question, and it takes you a moment of stumbling over your words to get any coherent thought out. “Well, I see…no, I think art is, uh, beautiful, because it is…um, it is like a conversation from artist to person looking. I’m sorry, that doesn’t make sen-”

“It makes perfect sense,” he cuts you off quickly. His chestnut hair glows under the harsh lights in the room and his eyes stare deeply into yours. “You’re completely right. Art isn’t just a picture, it’s meant to be given and experienced. The artist is sending a message to the viewer, of course, but art is nothing if the viewer doesn’t see it and give something back, even if it’s just an emotion or an analysis.”

You don’t understand most of the words he just said. “Yes, exactly.”

He smiles at you again, shyly this time. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/n. I look forward to seeing you around.”

Principal Kim looks back and forth between the two of you, blinking like he’s just as lost in the conversation as you are. “Thank you for your time, Teacher Kim, we will be moving on with the tour now.”

Art Kim bows quickly and gives you a cute little wave, then goes back to his students, pulling up a chair at a different table and immediately entering into a conversation about whether the young boy should make the sky orange and the sun blue instead of doing it the normal way.

Once you’ve left the building and stand outside in front of classroom 4, Principal Kim turns to you and tuts. “Ah, this tour is so boring! Math and drawing pictures. But don’t worry, next is the science blo-”

He’s cut off by a loud bang coming from inside, which is paired with a flash of white and kids squealing in excitement and delight. A thin wisp of smoke trails out of one of the half-open windows.

Principal Kim lets out an exhausted sigh. “Dammit, Jeon Jungkook.”

TAGLIST  Send me a message or an ask if you wish to be added, and you’ll be notified every time I post a new chapter of LiT.

[sofiabaker57-blog]

Dental care: The sort of dental attention treatment offered at Supersmile Orthodontist

Lots of folks normally neglect matters related to dental care such as taking fantastic care in their teeth , teeth etc.. Dental care also involves prevention and treatment of infections of gums and their teeth besides the repair and replacement of teeth. Start with only inquiring to a great dental plan by relatives, pals and the co workers. Ask issues like whether emergency-service is provided, how easy it's to find an appointment, how far it charges, the different kinds of services therefore on. Also inquire concerning perhaps the setting of their dental hygiene facility is both relaxing and reassuring, behaviour of the team specially involving kiddies etc.Dental providers are also provided at local dental schools in affordable and competitive rates. Several of those schools will offer to check and clean your teeth for free of price. 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To seek out the program that is perfect and service whatever you will need todo is type the definition of'dental care' to an internet search engine with the city personally. You may find a comprehensive list of free and affordable health-related and dental health care solutions listed by state and city in no cost Dental Work.org. Initially and basic step for doing this will be to just ask around. Earth of this mouth would be possibly the optimal/optimally chance that you may consume while looking to get a dental hygiene plan that is decent. Inquire from friends, the family relations and co workers about these. Enquire about the services they are currently getting , how much it costs, how simple it really is to get an appointment, in the event the crisis service is supplied and therefore on. Inquire about their style, in the event the air in their office is more reassuring and relaxing and should they have been helpful, particularly. 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A number of those might offer to completely wash and check your teeth. You can search for them across the Internet easily.The strongest and simplest means of acquiring amazing dental providers in the region is searching for them online. Now, there are hundreds and hundreds of internet sites listed on the Internet which will be able to help you locate a dental center. Input the area's zip code, and you also will secure the list of dental practitioners that offer dental care in the vicinity of the specific place. A number of the insurance companies provide this facility in their websites. Searching for dental practitioners within your insurance policy company's internet site provides an personalised list of dentists who take on your insurance policy cover.However, if you never need to experience each of the hassles of locating an affordable dental hygiene in your area that you can always choose CAREINGTON Dental approach. Careington presents cheap dental coverage for people and family members. Careington now has more than service providers around the usa. You can get the greatest care from the ideal dental professional specialists with tech and methods at affordable and low rates.

[wendylewis-blog]

05.18.2020 /MondayMonday

Monday Monday / can’t trust that day / Monday Monday /sometimes it just turns out that way / Oh Monday morning you gave me no warning of what was to be / Oh Monday Monday how could you leave and not take me—

Saturday was full of garden prepping and I felt pretty damn satisfied when the rain arrived Saturday night, continuing all day Sunday as predicted. Prior to the rain, I was able to get the rest of the tomato plants in, herb pots filled, and all other areas prepped with chicken manure garnered from my neighbor (who runs a thriving coop) to nourish seed potatoes, bush bean, radish, swiss chard, cuke and collard green seeds. Now that the yard has enjoyed a full soak I’ll finish planting today and watch my garden grow. Woot!

I’m not a great gardener and certainly not an obsessive one. It’s pretty much trial and error, all the time. I dunno—maybe that’s how gardening actually works. But—in the Summer of Corona, maybe I’ll have the time and energy to maintain it. In years past, I would get a garden put in, but as work increased throughout the season I’d lose interest while temperatures climbed, hornets, ground bees and weeds rivaling Little Shop of Horrors took over. I would bounce between shame and apathy, harvesting what miraculously survived my woeful neglect. In the fall, I would begrudgingly chop it all back just before the first snow, cover it with straw and forget about it until the next year when I would progressively disappoint myself for another summer. Mayyyyybe this year I’ll get it right. Plus—we’ll save money feeding ourselves. 

I’ve been pumping up the jam on cooking again, in the ebb and flow. I made a slow-roasted Korean gochujang chicken last night surrounded by smashed gold potatoes—even made the gochujang paste from scratch. I covet an Asian market closer to me in Cannon Falls, but I made do with what I had and/or could substitute and came pretty damn close to the real thing. 

That segues nicely into the topic of what I really need. More importantly, what I can make for myself instead of purchasing and/or doing without. Imagine doing without. I had a craving for French dressing this week and just made my own—like, duh! I discovered a plethora of brown mustard seeds in my spice cupboard and will make mustard once we get low—it’s crazy how easy it is and the money it will save because coarse ground mustard is expensive for a tiny jar. I’ve made myriad salsas (from borcha to verde), homemade crunchy/clumpy granola,  have been making sandwich bread for a month (saved $20 so far) and next on my list is flora-building kraut and kimchee. Clearly, cooking isn’t for everyone and tastes are varied, but you can easily even whip up a homemade Taco Bell Crunch Wrap Supreme in your own kitchen if you’re having a craving for fast food you miss. 

Beyond that, what can I do without? Well, I can do without a lot. I’ve honed this skill as an artist over my lifetime, but it’s fast becoming an alarming, spotlit political platform instead. I’ve been making some noise lately (a previous post in this blog) about monopolizing bullies like Amazon (Frontline investigative report linked again if you missed it), who not only underserves their employees but also targets independent book and music stores in addition to myriad local goods providers, swallowing friendly competition like a nefarious grey whale scoops up krill. (Not dissing on you, grey whale...just using you anecdotally.)

The pandemic is revealing, in harsh and glaring light, a trend that has been becoming normalized in our society for decades without us really noticing—until now. When my kids were babies in the late 80′s, I remember politics employing integrity on either side of the aisle (OpEd by MN Republican Dave Durenberger I recently posted on FB). But, over the decades, deregulated  capitalism + consumerism has led us into a full scale war with—ourselves! Financial gain rests on one side of the justice scale and the sustainability of humanity rests on the other. 

That’s what it looks like to me—the brainwash is so greedy and stealthy. I grew up in a religious cult so I know something about it after living through it and spending years of therapy in an effort to recover from it. Some of us are demanding to return to work recently, packing restaurants and bars (Wisconsin) long before it’s safe to do so and against the advice of medical experts who are only trying to save our lives! I get it—the frustration—but it’s really dangerous, ppl. 

This smells like social suicide to me. 

Why would we take the risk to jump into that emotionally charged fog just to prove a point? There is too much to lose. 

I fkn really truly feel for every small biz owner, every self-employed person (me) every restaurant owner and their employees (my daughter) who are struggling—it’s difficult and scary. I don’t know how it will look six months from now. I hope communities will pull together and creative solutions will be instigated. I believe in human beings. 

None of us in the middle/lower-middle class will escape the brunt of this. Those with money will have a different anxiety that I can’t understand, but at least they can pay for services, enjoy good health care benefits and houses that aren’t compromised. Still, they will lose their security and retirement, which I’m sure feels terrifying for them. I have neither, so at least I don’t have to suffer that loss. 

Is it possible we are evolving away from our innate survival instincts though, attaching like weasels to a political stance vs staying alive? Not looking good right now. America is not attuned to humility or losing. Is it more worthy to be right vs embracing truth? Ahhhh—sorry, I guess “truth” is another sticky wicket—what each and everyone thinks that means. Slippery slopes. We might be doomed if we continue on this way. Fuck. It feels really dark right now. 

The virus doesn’t give a flying fk if we choose to flip off the rules of our governors screaming instead for our “rights”—our “freedom”—our “livelihoods” and flood into the streets, unmasked and angry. The virus will win, every time. It laughs at our arrogance and ego mad gesticulating. 

Hm. Well. I guess it’s gonna play out one way or another. I really hope I’m wrong and that everyone’s pride wins and doesn’t spread the virus. But it’s not likely. 

So. I’ll return to my garden. Hoe the weeds. Tend to the plants. Hope for the best. 

Be brave. Stay safe. Wear your mask. Lovelove.