#WHY DOES EVERYONE WANNA KNOW WHAT MY FUTURE PLANS ARE

[dgaftilwedie]

next person to badger me abt college is getting cursed

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[bloodmoonmuses]

clover | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, friends to lovers, college au, fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

warnings: some swearing, mentions of alcohol

summary: mark collects four leaf clovers. when you help him find his hundredth clover, mark declares you his good luck charm.

If asked whether or not you believe in fate, you’d probably say no. You found the concept of it unnerving- a predetermined future that one must simply accept… How boring. What you believed in more was the butterfly effect- the chaos of it, the lack of control, the overlapping of timelines. The flapping of a butterfly’s wings could cause a hurricane. It’s the little things that have the biggest effect.

The first time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the forgetfulness of your best friend, Johnny. The three of you were supposed to meet for a group project, but it slipped his mind. You knew of Mark, of course, but never really hung outside of group settings. 

Mark is a butterfly- fluttering, social, beautiful and delicate. You wanted to pin and press his wings like a taxidermist, preserving their beauty in eternal serenity. Though most times, he felt too golden to pin down. He was simply meant to be free.

The two of you lie under a tree in the campus’ courtyard, skimming your textbook for more information. Mark sat quietly, plucking blades of grass out of the ground. When your vision blurs, signaling you’re no longer absorbing information, you close your textbook.

“Think he’s still coming?” Mark inquires.

“Nah. I texted him, but he hasn’t responded,” you say as you check your phone once more for confirmation.

“Hm,” Mark closes his textbook as well. “ Wanna call it a day?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Spring is well under way, but today is warmer than usual. It’s actually nice enough to be outside. You linger on your faded picnic blanket, lying on your back with your eyes closed, while Mark gathers his things. Sunlight filters through the leaves, making abstractly shaped shadows dance across your chest and stomach. You trace the warmth with your fingers.

“I can consolidate our research into a document if you want,” Mark pipes. You thought he had left already.

You crack open an eye. “We’re still talking about the project?”

He looks at you sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for.”

You crack a grin, scoffing at Mark’s eagerness to actually work. “Didn’t know you were such a goody-two-shoes.” 

“I’m not,” he contests, pouting slightly.

He’s so cute. You want to stuff him with fluff and tie a bow on his pretty head. No wonder everyone babies him so much. His eyes simply demand such.

“I’m just messing with you,” you say. “Sounds like a plan. I can make the slideshow, if you want.”

“Cool.”

Mark starts to leave before returning to his seat and asking, “Hey, ______. Why haven’t we hung out before?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. You have plenty of friends. Didn’t think you’d need more.”

You look at Mark, sitting criss-cross on the corner of your blanket. He has a pile of clovers on his leg, and he continues to sift through the grass in pursuit of more. He plucks another, identifying it as a four leaf clover, and places it on your belly.

“Looks like I just made another. It’s been weeks since I’ve found one.”

“A four leaf clover?” Your fingers play with the floweret, watching as it rises and falls with your breaths. Mark’s eyes follow the movement as well.

“Yeah, I collect them. You’re, like, my good luck charm now. Dude, it’s fate.”

“Do I get a say in the matter, dude, or does fate take precedence?” you joke, asking with a giggle.

Mark beams at you, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Wanna be my good luck charm?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely…”

Mark grabs his backpack, taking out a sheet of parchment paper and a book. Then, he takes the clover from you, placing it in between two sheets. Finally, he places the clover in the middle of the book. He closes it, giving the book a firm squeeze, and puts it back in his bag.

“Pressing it for later,” he says.

—

The second time you hang out with Mark Lee is per the drunkenness of your best friend, Johnny. You told yourself you’d stop going to parties with him. It seemed that every time you did, you were relegated to designated driver. So there you sat, on the stairs of the back porch, hoping Johnny would pass out in the next hour or so. However, you knew this wouldn’t happen any time soon. Johnny’s alcohol tolerance is annoyingly high. You decide to enjoy the fresh air regardless.

House parties this big were conducted for only one reason- to get everyone in attendance as fucked up as possible (and assuage their guilt in doing so with the presence of other fucked up people). A girl, a twig-like thing, does a keg stand in the middle of the backyard. She nearly topples over entirely, but manages to return to the ground upright before immediately dissolving into a heap of bones and flesh.

On your left, you watch a smarmy frat boy sidle up to another girl, caging her against the house. She’s drinking him up, flashing the most obvious “fuck me” eyes you’ve ever seen. On your right, a guy blows chunks into a bush. Such is the dichotomy of life. 

The back door of the house swings open and the music that’s blasting from inside temporarily bleeds into the backyard. When it closes, the sound is muffled, making you feel as though you’re underwater. You look up to see Mark, surprisingly. The two of you haven’t spoken since the group project. He sits next to you, muttering a brief hello. 

“Not your crowd?” he says, noticing the dissatisfaction on your face. 

“Johnny’s my crowd, but he’s hammered.”

Mark scoffs. “Sounds about right.”

You look at Mark. He seems mostly sober, save for the faint dusting of pink adorning his cheeks. “Are you drinking tonight?” you ask him.

Mark tips his beer towards you, taking another swig before saying, “Just the one. I have a paper to write tomorrow. You?”

“Designated driver.” You’ve been nursing a cup of lemonade. You feel like a prude.

“Daaaang.” He drags out the word, following it with a low whistle. “That sucks, dude.”

“Needed some fresh air?” you ask him.

“Nah, just wanted to catch up with my good luck charm. Saw you walking out." 

Your heart beats a bit faster, though you're not sure why. “Have I been doing a good job?”

“I get to be here outside with you instead of in that hellhole. So, I’d say yes.”

You end up driving Johnny and Mark home that night. Apparently, his designated driver (Jaemin) bailed on him. Mark sits in the passenger seat while Johnny is passed out in the back. It’s quiet, moonlight seeping into the car in a hazy glow. It illuminates Mark’s side profile and you sneak glances at him in your periphery. He’s visibly fighting off sleep, head lolling to the side then suddenly jerking to attention every few minutes.

When he does this a third time, you say, “You can sleep. We’re about ten minutes away.”

“Wanna make sure you’re safe,” murmurs Mark. His voice is gravelly, the sentence barely croaking out of him. “Don’t wanna leave you alone.”

“I’ll survive. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” With your permission, he drifts off to sleep, lips slightly parted. 

When you arrive at the boys’ dorm, Johnny stirs lightly as he feels the car has come to a stop. You shake Mark’s shoulder, waking him from his slumber.

You walk up to Mark’s room, the two of you lugging Johnny with much difficulty. He’s practically dead weight, wasted enough to the point of not being able to hold himself up. When you finally manage to get him on Mark’s couch, you’re winded. You sit on the floor while Mark sits next to Johnny. 

“The only thing comforting me right now is the fact that he’s gonna wake up with a horrible hangover.”

At this, Mark laughs, his own chest heaving at the physical exertion of transporting a Johnny-sized human.

“Thanks for helping me bring him up,” Mark says.

“No problem. Take a video of him suffering for me please.”

“Anything for my good luck charm. Speaking of…” Mark quickly retreats to his room, returning with a small wooden box in his hands. He places it in your lap.

You open the box to see it full of four leaf clovers encased in resin. He takes out a heart shaped one and hands it to you.

“This one is yours. The hundredth clover in my collection.”

“I’m honored.” You cradle the preserved clover in your hands, watching the light bounce off of its shiny surface. The moment overwhelms you, chest constricting with adoration of the simple gesture.

“I was thinking of making it into a bracelet. Then you can harness your lucky powers wherever you go. Like a superhero- or something like that.”

He smile at you, a toothy and boyish grin, and your inhibitions seem to melt away. Perhaps you could be persuaded into believing in fate. Making him happy in this way feels like destiny. You would do so forever if given the chance.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

—

The third time you hang out with Mark Lee, Johnny isn’t much of a factor. Then the fourth time, and the fifth, sixth and seventh- until one night, Mark asks you on a date. You think. You’re not really sure at this point. 

You’re at his apartment, something that occurs more often following the party incident, killing time with him and (of course) Johnny. The three of you are supposed to be having a movie night, but can’t agree on a film. In lieu of such, you’re simply arguing about movies.

“It’s ridiculous,” Johnny says.

You cross your arms. “It’s high art.”

“Do not refer to Twilight as ‘high art.’”

“The first one has an indie feel to it. The too-blue coloring grading? Imagine stumbling upon that at Sundance or South by Southwest. Those film bitches would be all over it if not for the negative connotation of pseudo vampire smut.”

“Never seen it,” Mark says. His comment gets drowned out, however, as you continue to rant at Johnny.

“The series only got bad because they gave the sequels to a male director.”

“That is not the only reason.”

Johnny’s phone rings. “It’s Jaehyun. Jaemin left him at a party.”

Johnny gathers his belongings and exits. He attempts something of a wink towards Mark, which is awkward because 1.) You see it, and 2.) It looks more like some dust flew into his eyes than a cheeky gesture.

“Be back in a bit,” Johnny says. 

“What was that about?” you ask. Mark is beet red. 

“Nothing,” Mark sputters. “So.”

“So…”

“Twilight. Movies. You like both of those things, right?” Mark rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, swinging his arm in tandem. He can’t really make eye contact with you, but he’s trying, blinking rapidly as his eyes flicker around the room. 

When the silence becomes unbearable you say, “Is there a reason you’re acting like we’ve never met before?”

“Just answer the question.” He sighs, face planting into his palm.

“I mean- Marginally. I mostly just like making Johnny angry-”

“Would you like to go to the movies with me?”

“Yeah, I’d love to.”

—

It’s raining. Mark is soaking wet, green hoodie soiled. You can’t help but imagine a butterfly with dripping wings, dejectedly fluttering in an attempt to dry itself off. Funnily, the sun was beaming brightly just a few hours ago. If you hadn’t checked the weather ahead of time, you’d probably be drenched as well. 

“Forgot my umbrella,” says Mark as he walks up to you.

“Clearly.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

“Guess I’m not as lucky as you thought.”

“Impossible.”

“Wanna just go back to your place?” you say as you pat his shoulder.  “Then you can get changed.”

You return to Mark’s apartment, making two cups of chamomile tea. When Mark exits his room, he sits on the couch. There’s enough room for at least three people in between the two of you. When you move to sit closer, Mark literally flinches.

His right hand is clasped tightly into a fist, quivering from the force with which Mark is holding it shut. 

“Okay Mark. What’s wrong?” You reach out to him, placing your hand on top of his closed one.

He averts your gaze. “I don’t know how I managed to fuck this up-”

“The rain is out of your control, Mark. It’s not a big deal.”

Then suddenly, Mark opens his hand to reveal your clover, still in its heart shaped encasing, but now attached to a bracelet just as he said he would. The butterflies in your stomach fly up to your sternum. Your breath hitches there.

“I had this whole thing planned. After the movie I was gonna drive you home and it was supposed to be this whole thing that led up to me giving you the bracelet under the moon but then it started-”

“Mark. It’s okay!” you say with a laugh.

“ I like you, ______. I was gonna tell you that I like you.” Mark shuts his eyes tightly, practically wincing with each word. 

You lean over to kiss his cheek, accidentally giving him a butterfly kiss as well when you linger there. Mark giggles at the contact of your eyelashes, and you feel his face move against your lips.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like you too.”

Eventually, Mark’s lips meet yours, gently kissing you as though you’ll break. Warmth spreads throughout your entire body and you pull Mark closer in pursuit of more. Mark places a final peck on your nose and pulls away. He grabs the clover bracelet and ties it to your wrist. 

“Lucky me,” Mark says.

a/n: unedited and feedback is always appreciated!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hump day, wooooo.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Strange how you never found comfort at home. Well, it never felt like one for you. You were always just a hanger-on. A burden. 

As you enter your grandma's house, you can't help but exhale the tension you've been holding in. She's in her chair, reading, not a word at your arrival. You go into the kitchen, set on eating the frozen meal you lost your appetite for the other night. 

You peel back the corner on the tray and shove it in the microwave. As you shut the door, you nearly wince at the unexpected figure in the doorway. You don't know if you're really surprised or if Andy has you jumpy. Both. 

"Want some coffee?" You offer your grandmother, hoping to appease her. "Tea?" 

She grumbles and waves you off, shuffling across the tile in her slippers. She crosses her arms and her lip sticks out, "nice of that man to come all the way down here like that." 

You turn your attention back to the countdown and shrug, "yeah." 

"He didn't need to just for all that. For you, did he?" She prompts. Her interest both irks and worries you. She never cared about anything. "And after losing his family." 

"Right, yeah, it's tough," you twiddle your fingers at your side. 

"Don't sound so heartbroken," she scoffs, "Christ, wasn't that boy you're friend?" 

You face her as the microwave beeps, "grandma..." you can't tell her. If she even bothered to listen, she wouldn't believe you. She doesn't even know Andy and she's already taking his side. Typical. "Yeah, I'm sad. Guess I'm a bit in shock." 

You turn back and take the too hot tray out, holding back a hiss at the singe in your fingertips. You spin and cross the kitchen to grab a fork. Your grandma huffs and putters after you.  

"He sent them flowers," she says. 

You stir the noodles and cheese, "he did." 

"Fancy. Expensive." 

You don't really get why she's still harping on. She didn't put so much mind to your prom or graduation or even when you got your job. Yet you can't be surprised where she's strayed; she's always been on you about money.  

"Seems to me he's a bit lost," she says, "you're..." she weighs her words before she speaks, something she rarely does, "maybe he's tryna find some direction. He might... might wanna take care of ya." 

"Huh?" You make a face and glance at her from the corner of you eye. 

"Like, I dunno, I watch those talk shows, grief is something nasty. I would know," she goes on. You can't remember the last time you heard her talk so much. "He only got-- had the one kid. You're about the same age... maybe he's tryna, I dunno, replace what he lost." 

You nearly laugh in her face. Really? This is what she cares about? You stare at her and furrow your nose. You could tell her. You could try. She's listening. For once.  

"I don't think... it's not... I'm not his responsibility and I don't wanna be." 

"You're barely your own responsibility," she sneers, "can't see a good thing in front of you." 

"Grandma--" 

"Well? Pretty sure there's more where those flowers came from," he tuts, "you got a few hard lessons to learn, girlie. 

You look down at the macaroni. You're not hungry anymore. You grab the tray and walk away. 

"Yeah, well, maybe you shoulda tried to teach me some, huh?" You toss over your shoulder and stomp out of the kitchen. 

You go into your room and kick your door shut. How is he doing this? How is everyone, even a woman who hasn't lived in reality for twenty years, on his side? 

You put the tray and fork down and go to the other side of the bed. You sit facing the window and drop your head into your hands. The only person you have is too far away. Besides, you don't want to drag her into this. Not any more than you already have. 

🎮

For once, you’re anxious to get to work. You welcome the distraction from everything else; debt, grandma, and the biggest problem of all, the one you won’t even name. You stroll up to the ice cream booth as Luis stands outside the window, chatting to Jessie as she stands at her vigil inside. You frown. You don’t see the manager often. Only when he hired you. 

“Ah, there she is,” Luis spots you and waves you over, “right on time.” 

As he checks his watch you pull out your phone. You’re early, like always. His presence is more than a coincidence. You have this ripply feeling in your stomach. You black your phone and cross your arms, hiding it under your elbow. 

“Hi, how’s everything going?” You ask as you approach the kiosk. 

“Everything’s great,” Luis smirks, “sunshine’s out, customers too.” 

You glance around. The picnic tables are mostly full. It is the perfect weather for a scoop. 

“Yeah, gonna be a busy shift,” you pander with a smile. 

“Hey,” Luis wags his finger as if remembering something, “before you start, let’s have a chat.” 

“Oh, alright,” you agree. 

He waves you away from the window as more customers approach. You follow him to one of the tables. You wait for him to sit before you do the same. He looks around from behind his black lenses and tilts to reach into his back pocket. He slides out his phone and brings it forward to cradle in both hands. 

“So uh, how are you liking it? The work?” He asks. 

You’re uneasy. You stare at his cell then look him in the face. 

“It’s good. Steady,” you answer as you keep your own phone in your lap. 

“Mhmm,” he hums and once more glances around, “look, this is never easy but I got a complaint--” 

You blink slowly. You’re not surprised. You figured it would happen. Still, you thought maybe Andy might be above that. Or anything at all. 

“Obviously, I take these things seriously. This business is all about customer service, especially with the Dairy Queen down the block,” he explains, “but I do try to give the benefit of the doubt. I checked the cameras.” He pauses for effect as you shrink down, “you closed the window.” 

You sigh and heave out a breath, “I did.” 

“You know we don’t do that,” he reprimands. 

“Sir, I know but... the customer... he wasn’t a customer. He’s... bothering me.” 

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and scratches his neck, “oh? Didn’t look like that type. When I spoke to him, he didn’t even seem upset. He just asked me to check in, really, but it’s not his shop. He don’t gotta worry about the bottom line. I do.” 

“It won’t happen again,” you wisp out. 

“I know it won’t,” he says. 

You sit, waiting for him to continue. He just stares at you. You shake your head. No. 

“Sorry, I gotta let you go.” 

“What? It’s my first complaint--” 

“This is an ice cream shop, how many of those do you think we get? Not very hard to keep the people happy so if you’re getting unhappy customers, well, that’s all I need to know.” 

“Please, Luis, I need this job--” 

“Shouldn’t have closed the window. I’m sorry. That’s the one rule.’ 

“God, I--” you huff and snarl, “whatever. Fine.” You stand and untie your apron, “get your bottom line.” 

You toss the apron on the table and swipe up your bag. You turn without waiting for another empty apology. Fuck. It’s shitty but hey, there’s always the DQ and now you have experience, right? 

🎮

You fill out an application for the Dairy Queen and a few other places. Your job hunt has been chronic as it is. It’s only that your search for a second gig, is now back to square one. You have only your last check coming to you before you’re digging into your meagre savings; the money meant for tuition. 

Your grandma is back to living in her novels. Good. You didn’t realise until before how much you preferred it. 

As you close yourself in your room, your phone vibrates. You look down at the message. It’s him. He’s been messaging, still thinking he might talk you into it. He is a lawyer but this isn’t his court. This is your life. 

How pathetic. A grown man meddling in the affairs of a nineteen-year-old. If you could let go of the catfishing, everything else has assured you of his character. You flop onto your bed and swipe away his texts. 

You wallow there for a while. In self-pity, in futility, in listlessness. You don’t know what to do. Everything is at a standstill. You have no job, you don’t know if you can pay for next semester, let alone the year, and you’re stuck in this deadbeat town. 

You put on a video to try to drown out the incessant anxiety. Today, you’re just going to let yourself sink. You can deal with everything tomorrow. You close your eyes and yawn, drifting into a haze that makes your head fuzzy. 

You’re roused by another vibe of your phone. You ignore it. He’s not going to get an answer. He can keep skirting around your blocks but you’re not wasting your energy. You’ve told him enough times to leave you alone. He has to get bored eventually. 

You roll over and bury your head in the pillow. You hear your grandma clunking around in the kitchen. You hate this place. You hate your life. The more you think about it, you can’t deny how horrible it really is, especially in the shadow of your dwindling future. 

What did you do to deserve this? You’re a good person. At least, you’ve always tried to be. It feels like a lot of karma for that Twizzler you stole when you were eight. 

Your grandmother keeps up the racket and your phone keeps on buzzing. You flip over and sit up. You snatch up the phone and stop yourself from flicking your thumb sideways. It isn’t him. It’s Kara. You never did call her back. 

You answer and put her on speaker, “hey, sup?”  

“Hey,” her voice is shaky, “uh, I don’t know.” 

“What?” You sit up straighter, “is everything--” your voice trails off as you listen to the commotion on her end; chatter you can’t make out, movement obscured through the speaker, “what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“The cops are here,” she murmurs, “I don’t know. They just showed up. Said they got a call from the landlord or something. Cause it’s the property owner, they can just come in or whatever. I don’t know, I don’t know...” Her voice quivers with panic, “me and Calvin were just hanging out...” 

“That’s... why would they--” 

“Shoot, I think...” she lowers her voice, “they must’ve found his stash. Shit, shit.” 

“Kara?” Your heart races as you try to keep track of what’s going. 

“Miss, can you please hang up the call? We need to question you,” a deep voice interjects. 

“One second, I’m just on the phone with--” 

“Miss, hang up or you’ll be charged with obstruction.” 

The line cuts and you gape at your phone. What the hell? You try to dial back, the call rolls through but doesn’t pick up. You try again and again. You get out of bed and pace, texting Kara helplessly. Shit, shit! How is this happening? Over what? A tiny dime bag? Everyone smokes, not that you’re the biggest fan. Too smelly for you. 

You put your hand to your forehead. What do you do? You can probably get a bus ticket. Even if you get to her, the bond is going to be way more than you can afford. You doubt you’ll even be able to scrape it together.  

Do you call her parents? No, they’d kill her, then she’d kill you. 

You shake as your legs turn to jello. You sit back down and close your eyes. Holy crap, this can’t be real.  

Your phone vibrates. It doesn’t stop. You look down at the incoming call. Unknown Caller. You’re not stupid. You know it’s him and his timing assures you he had something to do with this. This isn’t a coincidence. Those don’t exist. If there was any sort of luck in this world, you would have found some by now. 

“What?” You put the phone to your ear and snarl. 

“I can help your friend,” he says. 

You’re silent. You want to scream at him. You want to swear at him. You want to call him every nasty word you can. But this isn’t about you, not just you. You brought Kara into this mess, even if you never meant to. You won’t let her pay for your stupidity. 

“Meet me at Oxford and Maris. There’s a restaurant--” 

“Fine,” you snip and hang up. 

You lower your phone and shudder. He won. Given his career, he must be used to that. 

[yuri-is-online]

Thinking about the future kid au and Jamil!Yutu (help his tsum is so cute, i love the tsum events)

Like...you said Jamil! Yutu wishes he wasn't born so his dad wouldn't have been executed because some Asim relatives guilted him (desoite them being the ACTUAL reason he died)

Needless to say his relationship with his dad is complicated , but I can't stop thinking about Yutu being of two minds about his parents like "I'm gonna get in the way of your plans for the evening because I don't want either of you to get close and eventually die because of me" but also somehow everything he attempts doesn't work

Because Jamil isn't one to give up easily (none of the boys are) and he just- feels so much freer and happier than he ever has when he gets to trade snarky comments, silly puns and honest praise with Yuu. And he won't let this mysterious guy get ik the way of that, he pretends to enjoy his remaining years at NRC to the best of his ability thank you very much. Plus he's working on gaining his freedom and Yuu is his number one cheerleader at this don't tell Kalim tho he'll be sure to cranck up his enthusiasm if you do ofc he won't stop talking to them nor dreaming of what could be, it's all he has to avoid going mad

Yutu however is losing his mind because every time there's danger he gets reminded of his dad's corpse being dragged around and he keeps worrying this time his dad will die trying to protect Yuu from harm

Little does he know Jamil would rather give his life protecting Yuu than any Asim because that's his CHOICE and that's the person who chose HIM over everyone else. Cue Yutu recovering from the battle, looking around frantically for signs of either of his parents and seeing Yuu patching Jamil up, bantering lightly and sharing such soft looks. They look so happy despite their bruises and suddenly Yutu gets this nauseating feeling of dread because he can see why they fell in love, which means maybe he's too late to stop it now

And then Grim complains that he's hungry after the fight and they both share this look and Yutu gets the little sadness of "oh, this is what it would've been like"

Just- aaaaaaahhhhhhh this au is so good and so angsty but also I wanna add just a little bit of fluff for these poor boys (my original thought was of Yutu seeing his parents meeting in the town and following them to try to sabotage their not-date only to end up making each scenario more romantic until he gives up when they start dancing in the middle of nowhere and he recognizes the dance from when Yuu taught him many years ago)

Happy Birthday Jamil (so sorry this is late), the tsum part of this post really shows you how old it is I am so sorry. Jamil is a real cutie though, his birthday message this year is him thanking Yuu for being someone he can trust to give him something without having ulterior motives. Post OB! Jamil should have a special sort of respect for Yuu I think. He understands what it is like to have to care for someone who makes a lot of problems against your will, but maybe not that you could love that person in the way Yuu loves Grim. Lots to think about with JamilYuu, lots to think about... so this one gets to have two parts as well whoops.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, CW lots of self hatred and thoughts of death, body horror, major character death, bullying, and brief mention of suicide. This post features some o.c.s created by @archetypal-archivist for this ayuu. More information about the ayuu can be found here, here, and here. Masterlist can be found here

The early morning is a sacred time for your little family.  When Yutu was little you would sneak into his room to make sure he was still asleep.  He never was, he'd developed some sort of sixth sense for when his favorite person was home and would wait patiently snuggled into the red scarf he used as a security blanket to surprise you.

“Boo!”  The scarf would go up in the air and you would let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise as your son giggled in manic delight.  “I got you!”

“You got me!”  He'd been little enough to lift up into the air then, you miss those days even though they were difficult.  

Your son still “spooks” you when you come home in the morning.  His former blanket has become a part of his wardrobe, and he's much too big for you to lift up over your head anymore but he's not pretending to be asleep anymore either.  

“Boo!”  Today Yutu has made some tomatoes and eggs, you think you smell coffee but that's not a smart thing for you to be drinking right now.  

“Thank you, little light.”  You settle down at your kitchen table and Yutu excitedly tells you about his plans for the day.  When he does this you always feel lucky, as if you didn't expect him to be such a normal and happy child.  As if there was something other than poverty and your illness that would hold him down and deny him any sense of self or success.  Yutu has never felt like there is anything he cannot do so long as he tries, he's very ambitious, your little light.  You've told him more than once you hope his spark never dims, that you are so proud of him for not letting his circumstances dictate his goals.

There's some relief in knowing you aren't here to see him hiding behind his scarf again.  It would hurt you to see how fast he shrinks away from the lich descending from his throne, putrid rotting flesh assaulting his nose even through the silk guard.  This is his fault, he can find no other logical explanation.  You would disagree, he has no idea what the corpse in front of him would say, but neither of you lived to see what he has.  He's not so full of himself that he thinks the world ended with his birth, but yours most certainly did.  

Yutu is a smart and polite child, the sort of little boy who makes old ladies swoon and insist that his parents are so lucky to have him.  That was a point of pride for him before arriving in Twisted Wonderland.  He never had too many questions about his father, he could see he wasn't the only one of his peers who was being raised by a single parent which was enough reassurance for him.  Maybe he'd meet his father one day, maybe he wouldn't.  He was much more concerned with making friends and learning everything he could.

He loves school in general, but his favorite subject is the stars.  It starts with him trying to amuse himself while waiting for you to come home from work and evolves into a hobby as he gets older.  His first proper expensive present is a refurbished telescope you spent a lot of time researching and asking questions about.  That's the first chip at his self confidence when he's alone in Twisted Wonderland; you worked so hard for that gift and he didn't bring it with him.  Sure, he didn't know what was happening but he knew something was off.  He should have grabbed it and kept it close…

Star gazing isn't his only hobby, he really likes cooking and experimenting with coffee.  He took up cooking because he was tired of waiting for you to come home and make food and expected it to be boring but there's something fulfilling about eating food you've made yourself he really likes.  The fact it makes him more attractive to his classmates is not something he thinks about at all, not one little bit.  You've never found him making extra food for a particular “friend” with a familiar determined smirk on his face.  “Your father used to do the same thing.”  You say it absentmindedly, the look of embarrassment you're met with is also quite similar.  “Not.  Another.  Word.”  

Money is tight, but Yutu still finds ways to participate in extracurricular activities.  He wants them on his college applications, sure, but he also wants friends, his own little group of people who won't care too much about his parent's reputation. Cooking club and drama class end up being his home base, you've got an unwilling front row seat to so much pointless highschool drama it gives you a headache.  He likes playing pickup basketball with his friends but joining the team isn't something he got a chance to do before getting isekaid.

The little bits and pieces you remember about his father make him out to be extremely normal. You remember his favorite food, that he liked cooking and playing basketball. You tell your son he takes after his father in how talented he is; Yutu is proud to be like his father, he assumes that he will get the full story from you someday. Maybe his dad died, maybe you never told him that he was going to be a father out of fear and never got a chance because you lost your memories in a tragic accident. Either way, Yutu is sure that one day he will find out who his father is and he'll be able to help you reconcile your relationship, whether it's by processing his death or reconnecting your friendship.

There's nothing particularly special about the day you remember.  He felt like trying something new with his hair and you had offered to turn his scarf into a turban, memories of fireworks sparking your hands into motion while Yutu tells you about what his teacher wants the school play to be this year.

“Careful!”  Yutu whines as you pull his hair through the cloth.  

“I am being very careful.” You laugh, the look on Yutu's face is familiar. Just like... “Jamil bought this for me, you know.”

“Jamil?” Yutu has never heard that name before, but he can tell it's important. He's never heard you sound so tender before.

“I think we were joking about push presents and he was offended thinking he had to wait until you were born to get me something nice.”  There was meant to be a matching piece of jewelry with Yutu's birthstone he thought you didn't know about, but then…  how could you have forgotten that?  You were going to make fun of him for how sloppy Yutu's birth was making him.  He was losing his touch, the old Jamil never would have been so obvious with a surprise.

“Is that such a bad thing?  You're giving me a gift.” Jamil is looking up at you confused, but it's not Jamil, it's your son. Your little light who- "You look so much like him." Your hand shakes, the world around you fades to black and Yutu begins to scramble.

~~~~

When Yutu opens his eyes he's in a dark room in front of a mirror with a mask hovering in a sea of green flame, there is noise buzzing around him that must be conversation, but try as he might he can't reign himself back into focus. You are still, eyes glassy and unresponsive to his calls. There is a man shaking him, trying to pull him to his feet as he calls for... the word he uses is healer and that allows Yutu to settle himself. "... a healer and take Yuu to the hospital wing immediately!" The Headmage snaps and a woman with brown hair immediately bolts to obey. The person next to her reaches out, but does not follow; the boy's presence is throwing cold water over a particular part of the crowd they would be wise to keep watch over. That isn't the right word so Yutu must be dreaming, he gives the man in the fur coat his attention and obeys, stepping forward to allow the mirror to judge his soul.

"Scarabia." If Yutu was not so convinced he was dreaming he would notice the way the person who approaches him looks, the meaning behind the fur coat's insistence he stay put and wait for him in the mirror chamber. But he does not. So when that person extends their hand, welcomes him to Scarabia and asks him to follow he thinks nothing of it. This is all a bad dream, you will shake him awake and tell him more about Jamil.

Not that he really needs to wait.

The first hit is a slap, the second is a basic fire spell but he doesn't know that when it sears his skin. He doesn't even know why these students are so angry, doesn't recognize his own last name he just thinks the word Viper is being used as an insult. When smoke begins to surround him he assumes the other students have decided to stop toying with him. He's going to die. He just found out his father's name, magic is real, other worlds are real, you are dead. You are dead and there's a foul smelling smoke around him; he's never really thought about what it would be like to die but Yutu finds himself surprisingly calm. "We'll be together soon, [parent]... father are you waiting too?"

"I would hate to waste a necklace on the likes of you." An authoritative voice cuts through the smoke, Yutu recognizes this person as his attackers scatter. The strange one who tried to stop the woman who ran off after the man in the fur coat spoke. They are wearing a lot of jewelry, necklaces and bracelets with strange symbols that seem to thrum with power in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. A rueful smile crosses their lips for a brief second. "Not that it would be a waste of course." Their focus turns to the cause of the smoke, a kerchief they give one more good shake before tucking it back into a pouch with even more strange necklaces wrapped around it.

"Where am I?" Yutu sounds so small, he curses himself silently for it but how else is he supposed to feel when the mysterious stranger looks at him with so much pity?

"Exactly where you belong." They say with authority, as if they are attempting to shut out any doubts before they can form. "But, as much as it shames me to suggest it, that might not be the safest place for you right now."

Misbah is how this person introduces themselves. Their friend, who is beyond stressed to see Yutu so disheveled and insists on healing him before allowing him to see you, is named Sehrish. Explanations can wait until Yutu has had time to say his goodbyes, but the look the older students exchange when you ask them to make sure your son isn't treated like Jamil once was tells him there must be a lot of them. Of the three adults, no one agrees how to give him those explanations either. The only thing they do agree on is that it is unsafe for him to be in Scarabia right now, but there won't be a problem with Ramshackle Dorm even if it's name suggests to Yutu that there really probably should be.

Crewel takes him there, explaining along the way who he is and what he was to you; a professor turned reluctant mentor who cared very deeply about Yuu and Jamil's future. He's reluctant to think of himself as a grandfather, he's just not that old he insists and Yutu laughs just the little bit, but if Yutu has questions about Yuu and your time at the school he is more than welcome to ask. On his father he doesn't say much, simply that he is dead. Murdered actually, but the use of that word is complicated by the circumstances of it so Crewel does not suggest Yutu speak of his family to anyone other than Misbah and Sehrish. Yutu learns, later much later, that Crewel didn't wish to traumatize him further. That he wished to take his time in explaining things. A good idea, but no one that realistically was going to work.

Ramshackle Dorm is unlike the other dormitories at NRC, all the students save him are magicless exactly like his parent. They all know a lot about his parent too, much to his surprise you are something of an idol to these people. None of them mind that he can use magic, it's just neat to be able to talk about the magicless prefect with someone who also thinks they're super cool; some of them have family or family friends that went to NRC while you were here and saw how you handled the overblots, others learned of you when they came here as refugees and were offered a place in the program. "Ramshackle is for misfits and outcasts!" A particularly messy third year proudly tells him when he asks him why they don't mind. Yutu doesn't really know how to feel about that. He never manages to figure it out.

Sehrish is a graduate student and Misbah is a fourth year, which as Misbah explains to him means they spend most of their time "in the field." They wished to say everything from the start, Sehrish wanted to explain herself and her family but did not think herself qualified to say anything more. Was uncertain of how her story would make him feel, afraid of it. The Scalding Sands is their primary focus, that would have been his homeland too had Yuu not been disappeared. Currently it is under the rule of a phantom of the Sorcerer of the Sands, one of the Great Seven Yutu will learn about as his classes progress. Misbah does not hesitate to tell him that this phantom once possessed his father when he was a student, and it is believed that this time it is possessing his corpse. It's a thought that sickens Yutu, how could this have happened? And why?

The why is explained to him in parts. Sehrish starts with the history of the Al-Asims, of the city they helped to build and the relationship between her family and his. She describes his father's burning resentment of his station matter-of-factly. His father was a servant from a well liked and respected family, but that reputation came at a cost. The respect was not for him or his talents, it was for how well he served his master and it drove him mad. The desire for freedom and recognition transformed into a phantom, his parent had fought against it and seen it defeated but somehow it had returned to rule over the Scalding Sands.

Overblotting is something Yutu thinks he has begun to understand, his professors have focused on it heavily so he knows what a phantom is. He's even seen a few small ones, but a phantom large enough to rule over a kingdom resembling one of the Great Seven is... frightening. The other students are all more or less aware of their existence and Sehrish takes the rest of her time to explain where and who the other Phantoms used to be. "We don't know why this happened." But people have theories. There is a timeline he learns from other students whispering behind his back, how his parent disappeared and then suddenly Kalim Al-Asim was murdered.

The living Al-Asims aren't at NRC, there is a rival school across the Island where they chose to stay. They don't speak to Sehrish, the only people he can speak to with any level of authority are the one or two older servants who worked with his grandparents. They speak fondly of the Viper family, though of Jamil they offer little specifics. Murder is again the word used for what happened to him, quietly after looking over their shoulder. Yutu had an Aunt named Najma. She was lively, talked about Jamil's business and constantly made fun of him while being proud of his accomplishments. The Vipers were an honorable family. They didn't want trouble. Did not want to rock the boat. But his father must have otherwise he wouldn't have wanted to overblot...

Yutu wasn't quiet before Twisted Wonderland. He thought of himself as outgoing, you would be so sad to see how small his friend circle has gotten. As time passes, as he fights smaller phantoms, ventures into the Queendom on his first real mission, as he looks in the mirror and realizes he has scars now. His scarf has protective sygils embroidered by Misbah to repair the holes, he's met a merman with pointed teeth who mixed him a drink and told him a story about his father that made him sound... human in a way that scared him out of asking for more.

Yutu has seen what his father became, looked a rotting corpse into what remained of it's eyes and listened to it try to speak with a windpipe welded together by ink. The lich sorcerer of the sands is his father. Yutu has spent enough time listening to his Ramshackle dormmates explain their medical studies to see he died young; there are traces of poisons in the hairs he returns to Idia that make even him shudder. He will never get the full story, never get more from his classmates or the Al Asim representative he meets when returning Kalim's body about how this happened. Just that it was deserved, that none of this would have happened if Jamil had known his place and never obtained his freedom. That isn't something Yutu can bring himself to agree with. His father had every right to want the same say in his life that you had worked so hard to give him, and you...

If you asked Yutu when he started feeling like he did not deserve to exist, he wouldn't be able to give you a specific answer. He certainly never felt like he didn't belong in your world, the general sense of disbelonging he felt he always attributed to his ignorance of his father's identity. But that was a fixable problem, he so firmly believed he would one day get to meet his dad and other family and then all those burning cultural questions would be patched up. But Twisted Wonderland was another matter entirely, the harsh welcome made him feel unwanted even if the Ramshackle students went out of their way to try and mitigate that. But all of that acceptance, all of that love was tied to you. The living Al Asims looked at him and saw a pest, expected him to show deference and repent for his father's misdeeds, while the older servants saw a tragedy. A child so fondly spoken of and wished for but doomed to wander in a broken world none of them expected to survive. Either way, the only message Twisted Wonderland had to offer him was one of rejection. Whenever he made up his mind, by the time he made it to the past and was settled into your version of Ramshackle Dorm he was determined to keep you from making the mistake of staying with his father.

Part 2

[s4ndg3m]

I wanna know ur wallmark divorce headcannons so bad

okokok. i had to type these all up separately so i could organize my ideas. i have like more in my head but they're hard to put into words so this is what you get

cw for alchoholism and general relationship issues. putting it all under the cut. remember these are just my headcanons and thoughts, nothing concrete.

General issues

Conflicting ideals on future life- Wallter being much more of a city guy, while mark prefers a rural setting.

Communication issues- Instead of talking things out they get accusatory and defensive, which means most talks end up arguments.

Further communication issues- They geniunely cannot understand the other half of the time. Wallter will attempt to be subtle in his communication, dropping hints instead of just flat out saying what he wants. Mark cannot pick up on these. Mark's direct communication sometimes comes across as rude and aggressive to Wallter.

General conflict- They have some shared interests, but there's also a lot of things that are important to them that they don't agree on. Like building materials, however silly that might sound.

Mark's issues

Alcoholism- Bit of A drunkard. He insists it isn't an issue but it is when it interferes with plans he and Wallter already had. "It would be weird if I didn't have a few with the boys after a job well done!"

Short-tempered- Which causes even more arguments over small things. (Def not physically abusive toward Wallter, even when drunk)

Abrasive personality- Mark would be more likely to make jabs or meaner jokes because he thinks everyone can take it. He wouldn't understand why someone would get upset over a joke.

He snores really loud- To the point where Wallter usually can't sleep. It builds tensions between them cus either Wallter is sleep-deprived or they never sleep in the same bed.

Dismissive- Wallter will ask/tell him about something that bothers him or something he wants as a gift for a holiday, but Mark usually won't listen.

Oblivious- Won't pick up on hints that Wallter drops, no matter the context.

Wallter's issues

Grey stuff. Wallter loves it, Mark loathes it. They argue over it.

Petty- Incredibly petty. Will make snide comments at Mark when he's upset about something.

Silent- He doesn't help at all with the communication issue, because he just flat out won't say anything! Until it's a big issue, of course. He might make hints but Mark cannot pick up on them.

Insistent on his own opinions- He will often push Mark to think like he does, instead of accepting their differences. It gets frustrating for Mark when he's constantly having to defend his thoughts.

Pretentious- Would absolutely try and take the moral high ground during arguments. He thinks talking in a level tone and not shouting means he's in the right, when really he's the one instigating most of the arguments.

Jealousy- I think he'd be the jealous type. He'd interrogate Mark about his friends and question his honesty often.

~~

I don't think there was one thing that caused the divorce, but a buildup of tension and frustration over the years of their marriage that was never managed. i think they both wanted it to work, even afterward, but neither of them are willing enough to see their issues and work on them. Even then, they kind of ruined the idea of a life with one another because of how horribly their marriage ended.

anyway these are just my initial thoughts on the two. enjoy!

[udidntseemelikethisshhhh]

No one asked but here you go some cute maybe a little suggestive Earth-42 Miles Morales headcanons, and a few blurbs 😌

WARNING ⚠️readers gender not specified, jealous behavior, guy with hot accent.

(Let me know if I missed any)

I have this huge urge to braid his hair 😭 (I’m I the only one??)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Earth!42 Miles X Reader Headcanons and Blurbs

“Wear what you want, I can fight” type guy but with a little twist. He would still get slight jealous that other people besides him get to see your attractive features (which they all are) but likes to see you smile so he sucks it up just for you

Will NEVER raise his voice at you, when you guys are in the middle of a silly fight no one yells, when you both get frustrated, you both walk away take deep breaths, think over the reason why you were fighting in the first place, then you guys stop and talk it out

Rio loves to bake/cook with you depending on what your good at

If you can’t do both she more than happy to help teach her future daughter in law

Shopping with or for you is a MUST

Loves resting his tired little head on your chest, but around Rio your shoulders, and Aaron nothing (he gotta look tough yk, no sappy bullshit around the big man)

Though he doesn’t seem like it, he’s a big whiner, and when he does he drags out the word Ma

Loves teasing you when you accidentally say something that can be unintentionally dirty

You see it, you like it, you want it, Miles buys it

I see Miles as the type of guy to go on calming car rides while listening to music for fun

He definitely listens to Rema (even if he can’t understand him)

If you draw, he will absolutely just lean on your chair and watch as you hum along to a tune in your head

Tries so hard to make sure you don’t know he’s Prowler

Eventually tells you because he knows he shouldn’t keep secrets (husband material)

When he told you, you were shock and need some time to get used to it but loved him the same no matter what

Later would say things to him like “you know, that kind of makes you more hotter babe?”

Likes to hold you so tight in bed that you have to beg him to let go so that you don’t pee your pants

Calls you unique versions of your first/ last name to seem more special

When Aaron meets you he was shocked

He didn’t expect to see such an understanding and nice people to be with Miles

Invited to all family events (by Rio)

Practically know everyone from the Morales family

Your friends and family are shocked when they found out you were with someone like Miles

Got used to it and love him, but not as much as you

Matching shoes everyday, and if you guys can’t see each other for some reason he will text to ask which Jordan’s your planning to wear so that he could match

When your flustered will call you Mami, or Mi amor to make it worse

Loves to lay on your thighs while you play with his hair

(If you have siblings) before they officially met him they would tease you when they walk into your room unannounced to see you looking like a tomato with your phone to your ear

Will whisper “good morning/goodnight Ma” in his groggy voice bc he knows it makes go🥴

Loves finding new matching wallpapers with you every two weeks

If someone is looking at you, he will gently but swiftly grab your chin and give you a kiss, even if he doesn’t like PDA

Rio brags about you to all her coworkers, and how she’s “So lucky that my son found someone as amazing as [Name]”

When Miles annoys you, all you have to do is walk to the living room/ kitchen, point upstairs, and she will yell at Miles to quit bothering you

Loves when you patch him up because when your done you kiss each and every spot making him wanna get hurt even more

Would kill for you “Ma, not saying I will, but I would if it came down to it” in which you would say “Someone complimenting me is not ‘coming down to it’ you understand?”

When you roll your eyes at him just has to be like “do that again I dare you” and you shut that down real quick

Folds when he hugs you from behind and vice versa

Finished this at 11:20 pm, so if it’s not to your liking to bad bc at least most of this stuff is completely original 😌✋🏽

[genericpuff]

Scamlords is at it again.

A few nights ago, there was a sudden blow-up in the /r/webtoons server showing a new announcement from Snailords -

For anyone unaware, Death : Rescheduled has been on mid-season hiatus since October. And it's now, and only now, that Snailords has suddenly decided the comic is ending after it returns, but readers can get an extra 20 episodes... if they fork over $1k in merch sales.

Now, this could be a lot worse. They could be threatening not to return to the series at all unless their readers hand over money. But considering it's practically just one degree away from that, it's still pretty nasty. Not to mention, the further they divulged in their reasoning around this "idea", the more confusing it got.

They also even revived their @snailordsrant account on IG which, for those of you who were there and can recall, was the same account they used to put one of their own fans on blast over some very mild criticism.

None of this makes any actual sense, for several reasons:

1.) I literally fail to see how getting $1k in less than 24 hours is worth shoving in an extra mini arc of 10 episodes if you don't even have it planned out. Why do that to your audience or to yourself? Why drag things out just to scrounge up an emergency $1k? Why not just be honest with your audience and run a GoFundMe or just say , "Hey everyone, I've run into some financial troubles, I would really appreciate it if you could FastPass my newest episodes or donate to my Patreon or buy some merch so I can cover the costs". It's really telling that this shithead doesn't have enough confidence in themselves or their audience that practically worships them that they have to resort to this kind of underhanded shit to get the money they need. I wanna make it clear that this is NOT like a Kickstarter stretch goal or anything that incentivizes readers to support their work, they're instead holding the length and future of their series over their audiences' head (which they've done before) for money. That's not an incentive, it's an ultimatum.

2.) Maybe I'm misreading / being stupid (someone pls explain if I'm missing something here) but I literally don't see how their comment about working 50 hours a week explains why they're suddenly getting their fans to pay out $1k worth of merch in less than 24 hours. For anyone who doesn't know, $1k per episode is an example Webtoons uses in its post discussing how they pay out creators (this came after the platform got called out 2 years ago for paying creators too little, there are undoubtedly creators getting paid less). And yet for some reason $1k is apparently the difference between 10 episodes and 20? How does that add up? And is the bit about them wanting to buy boba supposed to be a joke? Where's the punchline here?

3.) They say they have writer's block and they want to use the money to "motivate them", but then just a few slides later they say 10-15 episodes is what would make them the "happiest" so which is it? Do they want to write 10 episodes or do they want people to pay them to write 20 episodes so they can draw the fluff scenes that they apparently want to draw? If you have an ending planned out, why rush it or drag it out depending on how this "fundraiser" goes? Why not just write the ending you want to write that will serve your story best? Why shove in an extra mini arc that you don't even have full confidence in writing and then try to compare it to a "super expensive cake"? What are you doing? Speaking as someone who's had trouble getting motivated in the past, suddenly getting a month's rent worth of money to do it doesn't necessarily solve that, it just turns up the pressure, and if you're not someone who deals with pressure well, then you're more likely to wind up just burning out entirely rather than fulfilling that goal.

4.) The fact that they did, in fact, hit their goal just makes it all the shittier to think about because their audience is mostly made up of teenagers who worship the ground that they walk on. It's horrifying that they keep pulling these stunts with their audience, and getting away with it to boot - and Webtoons, as a company, keeps enabling it by allowing it to happen by hosting and promoting people like this.

Anyways, there's already a lot going on here that's sketchy, but then... they went and deleted their posts. At the time of this happening (as I was there to witness it all play out in real time) I assumed this meant that they had hit their $1k goal - especially as they had been showing their progress on their IG and they were already at $900 after just a couple hours - but it gave me a sinking feeling seeing them delete it because they had also been called out by some brave readers telling them that it wasn't exactly a good look to essentially blackmail their audience through their own content into giving them money.

Snailords deleting it gave me a stronger impression of "burying the evidence", especially now that they had the money. By all accounts, they could do whatever they wanted now.

So what did they decide to do?

. . . Huh?

Okay, take a second to actually think about what Snailords has done here. Because I know some of you will go "oh, it was for charity all along! that was nice of them!" but . . . I don't know about the legalities of collecting donation funds under false pretenses, but morally speaking, it's a really shitty thing to do. They stripped away the choices - limiting them to three - of what their readers could donate to, and what I think their readers don't understand - due to being mostly teenagers - is that they're tax-exempt individuals and they just unknowingly gave Snailords an easy $1k tax write-off. You really, really shouldn't collect donation funds like this without being honest, it's just a shitty thing to do, especially after you've already collected the money. It mostly just comes across as damage control on Snailords' part to make it seem like they were always planning to donate to charity, when in reality, if they wanted to donate to charity, they would have been honest about that at the start. Again, even if they wanted to do that from the start, it goes to show how little confidence they have in themselves or their audience that they have to stoop to methods like these instead of just doing it honestly.

And do you really think Snailords will actually do those extra episodes? Or donate that money? This is the same asshole who has manipulated their readers for money not once but twice, and now seems intent on doing it a third time just for the charm. This is the same person who practically sabotaged their own comic, Freaking Romance, because they apparently didn't like the romance genre and may as well have only done it for clout / views / etc.

What was especially odd - and I found this out from folks who actually read Death : Rescheduled (I do not) - was finding out that it wouldn't make sense for D : R to end in as many as 25 episodes, because apparently, the plot has basically just gotten going.

So it does seem like this is foreshadowing that D : R will wind up just like Freaking Romance, rushed into an ending that wasn't expected. And this, of course, has the people who read their work confused because D : R was supposed to be Snailords' passion project, their magnum opus, the project they wanted to do. So them holding the timing of an ending that shouldn't even be happening yet for ransom contradicts that original intention. Really, it just goes to show that Snailords has no passion, they're just in it purely for the money, to a degree that I can't even cheer them on for being a hustler because it's missing the honesty and integrity.

And of course, every single time Snailords finds a way to backpedal and take his audience for a ride, they hop right in without a single thought for themselves.

And no, none of this is to hate on the readers directly, I hold Snailords entirely responsible for this - they have an audience of impressionable, naive, gullible teenagers, and they know it, and take advantage of it every chance they get. It's why they weren't just honest about wanting to collect money for charity from the start. It's why they resorted to basically holding their own comic's progression for ransom during its midseason hiatus. It's why the deadline was 24 hours and why the posts are now gone.

Thankfully the Internet does what it does - any evidence that Snailords was trying to bury is now all over reddit, and hey, just for good measure, here's a post on Tumblr that's been sitting in my drafts for days now, days after people have already seemingly stopped talking about it. Don't let anyone bury or forget about the stunts Snailords is pulling on their audience, with a platform that they've been consistently given by Webtoons, because that's what they want you to do.

[nica-my-beloved]

Things I Love and Dislove About Ikemen Games

These are my opinions!

CONTAINS ADULT CHARACTERS

You don't know how much this means to me because most of the time I try finding shoujo mangas I end up with stories that involve high school kids.

I'm a die heart fan of demon romance but majority of the shoujo manga that explores supernatural beings involves a 1000 year old demon king falling in love with a 16 year old high school girl. This sickens me not only because of the age gap but one of the party is a freaking minor.

As an adult, I'm so happy the Ikemen Games doesn't involve younger characters or at least characters that are 'minor' as a romantic partner.

MC's ONLY JOB IS TO SIMPLYFY THE STORY

I have said this before, MCs are just props to simplify the story and characters to us because the writers think we're too dumb to understand what the character is saying. They're like Paimon so that we don't use our braincells to understand the characters better.

I wish they didn't do that and have MCs backstories that describes their personality. I mean, all the MCs want to 'prove' to the male leads that they wanna be 'strong' but I'm tired of this trope.

Why does MCs have to always be innocent and prove themselves? Why does she always want to 'understand' the male leads? Can't we...for once have a romance that doesn't involve MCs teaching male leads true love?

Also STOP give MCs odd jobs! Book stall employee...letter carrier? I mean who is happy and satisfied doing this? How about giving the high-paying jobs like Auditor or Businesswoman or Scientist or etc etc...I know Mai is a fashion designer and businesswoman and Mitsuki is a travel agent turned maid. Alice is a baker and Yoshino is a pharmacist. The only MCs that continues to follow the path of their dreams is Mai and Yoshino.

MATURE ROMANCE

I enjoy seeing two adults slowly fall in love.

There is something different about teenagers falling in love vs adults falling in love. The romance is more realistic. They don't talk about how they're gonna plan their future together or which college they're going to go instead their chat is much more deep and that's refreshing.

NO BAD ENDINGS

Happy endings are nice. Everyone deserves one! But when there are no bad endings, the story won't have stakes.....and when there are no stakes, I can't take any gunshot sounds, blank screen and MCs saying 'Is this the end?' seriously.

Just stop being cowards writers! Put some bad endings!!

FAIR SHARE OF ROMANCE

Although I have played my fair share of Maiden games, majority of them are not that romantic.

I love cute romance moments to lighten up the mood and I really need them. Ikemen games delivers that too well....way too well...

I do have some criticism for random steamy scenes, I don't mind as long as they have context and mood.

The story is not so story focused all the time and also has time for mischievous romance which I like! It helps in calming me down and enjoy at the same time.

BULLSHIT GACHA SYSTEM AND NON-EXISTING GRINDING SYSTEM (Not very F2P friendly)

Even though Genshin's gacha system is shit (you need mf 90 wishes to get a guaranteed 5 star and 180 wishes to get the limited 5 star you want!) I still think it's ways better than the gacha system of these Ikemen Games.

Yes I agree that both the games are different in genre, one is an open world anime rpg and other is a maiden game with gacha mechanics. But that doesn't mean that I have to always pay to buy limited gacha tickets!! At least genshin gives us an open world to explore and grind primos (even though its time consuming)

Yes they do give limited tickets when you enter an event or complete the mission board but that's only ONE TICKET and you need 50 LIMITED TICKETS to get your guaranteed limited 5 star card. On the other hand, they give out many standard tickets but what am I gonna do with it if they aren't gonna update the standard banner?

These games are NOT F2P friendly and if you wanna...like say, want rank no.1 in an event you'd have to save a lot of items.

Ofc I know about the subscription thing and you do indeed get a lot of items, but the most essential thing for me is limited gacha tickets and diamonds because I wanna collect as many beautiful cards as possible and you don't get them from these monthly subscriptions. It's a waste of $5 very month. I'd rather buy a nice hair care or skin care items from that.

INTERESTING SETTINGS

I have my criticism in some of their stories but I can't deny that I LOVEE their story settings. Their premise for each game is solid to the point it makes me wanna actually try it.

This is something I find very rare in 'shoujo' genre.

For example, I don't like Vampire themed games because they suck! (both figuratively and literally) but Ikemen Vampire interests me because they take real historical figures and makes them vampire, which is a really cool idea! You don't know but I'd die to get myself in situation like that because it would be an honor to meet some great historical figures, chat with them and make them lose all their brain cells just like me. I would die to meet especially Isaac Newton and grill him for making those torturous physics theories that gave me brain tumors in my school.

Very cool setting! I can't wait to see what's in store for us in the future!!!

EVENTS ARE INSANELY BORING

I've never enjoyed a single story event from Ikemen Villains. They are boring and makes me fall asleep immediately at chapter 1. I think that kinda spread to Ikemen Prince because I barely open Ikemen Prince app now.

I honestly don't find the stories of these events interesting at all. It always feels like 'I have seen this before' maybe in some other game or some other manga.

And the Collections events.....yeah, I hate them! I wish they never existed!!! They keep the fan-loved characters at the butt-end of the list where 90% of the players don't even make it unless they burn their whole month's salary. I know that's why they do these anniversary elections because I bet if Sariel was the most voted character, his story would have been the most expensive one to get.

VERY LIKEABLE MALE LEADS

This is a personal thing but I love charismatic male leads a lot! Male leads with a lot of suave and beauty! Yes I care about these things when I play gacha games okay! I play gacha games to look at hot guys (because I know I'm never gonna get one in real life!)

But I also love that the devs puts an effort to make them feel good too. So I wanna give a shoutout to them!!! 'KEEP GOING!!! JUST DON'T MAKE TRIGGERING MEN WHO SAYS 'I'LL KILL YOU'!!!

[accio-victuuri]

cpn talk: of camping fans, the number 38 and future concerts.

happy monday to everyone! ^^ what better way to start the week than some clowning. i hope this makes it easier for you to get through the day and rest of the week. nothing too ground breaking, just some good old minor cpns i picked up here and there. enjoy~ and yes i used that gif of gege as clickbait! hahahahaha!

i wanna start with a usual observation, the way they do not clash in terms of project promotions. in the past weeks, WoF was in full swing, and now it’s FPU which will most likely continue till it’s release and the week after that. in the meantime, XZ is on radio silence. you still have the usual ads and stock photos from XZS + some random hot searches but nothing else. i have a feeling that after Bobo’s promotions, XZ will come out for LOCH.

and speaking of XZS posting photos, let me direct you to this one. he is holding a fan again. not the 380 yuan but we’ve seen it before and he is using it during his drama filming right now.

so as the clowns that we are, we had to search for it so we can get the same style. how it’s describe on online markets is: F30 handheld rechargeable small fan mini portable wind power household. carry-on fan for camping. camping? interesting. of course you can use outside of that, but with our cpn of them and camping— this is yet another clue. did the same guy who bought him the 380 yuan fan before, searched up something his beloved can use for camping and beyond? they are so cute! i swear! i’m here for this whole soft era of them loving camping and relaxing!

bonus clowning is that the photoset form XZS was posted 19:30 which was the broadcast time for WoF. and considering it was the finale, maybe this was also ZZ’s gift? we already speculate that he is fond of lai lai so it could be…. 🤷🏻‍♀️

moving on to the number 38, which was a recurring number we have noticed from posts made sunday 4/7. 38 zhan bo. 💕 it could mean nothing but somehow, it got me, especially since yibo used it.

video uploaded by ybo is 01:38 and yibo posted 10:38.

now about the future concert of yibo which i screamed about here & here — whether that’s true or not— us cpfs will of course do what we do best. to clown. so here are some points:

1. some are connecting this concert thing to a previous hs related to xz. it was about him and his company adding services which includes concerts. the actual tag was: #xiaozhanstudio adds new commercial performance license#. of course whatever this is, if yibo does hold a concert, it will be under yuehua but i understand where the clowning is coming from.

this comment was so hilarious tho 😂😂😂😂

2. what if yibo invites guests? that’s usual for solo concerts. so we’ve been day dreaming about him singing bu wang, and why not wuji too? and then invite xiao zhan? imagine that. lol. and solos couldn’t even be angry cause wyb invited him. wouldn’t that be amazing?

3. this part in one of xzs vlogs where gg was in an open area and he “jokingly” said something like “Come to my concert, thank you!”

we may be thinking too much about it but what if. what if gege also plans to have a solo concert some time in the future? i know both of them are so focused on being actors but they also have so much passion for performing.

i’m imagining how they both have a bucket list and one entry there is to have a solo concert. i hope we get to witness that come true ✨

FINALLY, with yibo’s post earlier, we saw him playing tennis. so tennis boyfriends at it again! 🎾

video source

END.

[sugar-omi]

bro that teen pregnancy shit fucked me upppp 😭 I fr am in tears and rolling around my bed lol

my brain went on a tangent halfway thru the moms section I was like damn okay what if mc and cove just ran away huh then what

AND THEN I remembered they’ve already ran away before which is part of why mom is so worried about cove’s influence and hellooooo???? full circle moment 🫢 made myself gasp fr

ya u make me think so many thoughts on this one good lordddd

-🗑️

LOL AWW I DIDN'T THINK EVERYONE WOULD GET SO EMOTIONAL </3 AND LMAOOO I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THOUGHT ABT RUNNING AWAY AGAIN, PLEASE IS THIS GONNA BE A TRADITION LOL anyway, well good morning!!!! here's more angst n food for thought🤭🤭

tags : Angst / Hurt/Comfort, headcanons, fem/afab reader, pregnancy

[part 1: "everyone finding out cove and MC got engaged because they're pregnant"]

his whole world stops. his ears feel like they've been stuffed with cotton and his world is spinning outta control.

now lets assume the rubber broke, just for, simplicity n lore sake.

it's not that he wasn't already worried about this happening, he had been worrying about this for weeks since you realized what happened.

but even then, he already had the fear of god in him about this happening. both because his mom and dad were on him about safe sex, but also because he has a lot of feelings about being an accident n child to teen parents... and he really didn't want to recreate that situation or put feelings like that onto another life, another human with complex emotions and many many thoughts. a human and life he's responsible for.

it shocks him so much, because he's very worried about repeating of his childhood on his child, and his kid feeling the same way he did/does.

he already knows that either way, the babe will probably have mixed feelings on being a accident, and essentially being a bump in road of his young parents lives

but it's also everything he had been worrying about, finally coming to fruition.

even though he's very, very stressed and scared for your futures, he's long since decided to make it work. he really wants to make it work. he wants to do the best by you, and the babe. and he wants to give his kid what he didn't have.

but anyway...

you're very worried about dropping the news on him

and i bought you aren't surprised at how pale cove gets when you drop the news...

and if he's not sitting down already, he is now. (he might just faint, like forreal this time too from the looks of it...)

he's very emotional, and super nervous, but what scares you is that he's very quiet...

when he does speak though, his first question is "what're.. what are you gonna do?"

because before he gets too emotional, he wants to know what you want first. you're carrying the baby and you're the one who'd go through all the changes, and you're the one who has the most intense feelings and being pregnant makes your emotions n hormones even crazier and more intensified.

all that plus how young you two are? and all the plans you two had? yeah, it's a lot, and regardless of how he feels, he wants to do whatever you want and he'd understand if you decide not to keep it.

but if you say right then and there, you wanna keep it, cove says he'll take care of you, and the babe, comforts you and hugs you. then he says wants to get married..

or if you say you dont know... cove says you two will work through these emotions, and that no matter what, he'll take care of you, and the baby if you want it.

when you do eventually say you want to keep it, even if you say this a couple minutes after, or a few days after, cove comforts you again and promises you'll work through this, and that it'll be okay.

then he brings up getting married...

of course it's more emotional, and maybe even a bit romantic!

so imagine this, you're sitting on your bed, and you and cove are hugging each other, you're wrapped up in his arms and it's a great comfort.

you're both really emotional, and calming down after crying and having a moment.

cove pulls away, takes your hands in his and even with glassy, red eyes he has a determined expression. goes on about how much he loves you, and how much he treasures you, and that he's going to do his best for you, and take care of everything.

his speech probably draws you back to tears, even brings him to tears but he keeps going because he needs to tell you all this!!

"y/n... i want to marry you, i want us to be a family.. i know i don't have a ring and this isn't very romantic but.. will you marry me?"

doesn't matter if you say yes right away or if you ask him if he's sure he wants to get married, he reassures you he's not just doing this because he thinks it is what you and/or your or his family would want.

he wants to marry you anyway, why wait?

now about telling your parents.

regardless of if you have cove there while you tell them, or you do it alone, lets say cove finds out what your mom said about him being a bad influence.

i also think your moms are a bit icy with cove too, so even if he has to force out all the details of your conversation, he already knows your moms aren't happy

but to know your mom thought, maybe even thinks so still especially with the news, that he was/is a bad influence on you.

it makes him sad. because what if she, or even both your parents, thinks that cove is dragging your life down with marriage and a baby?

well, like i said in the first post, this totally opens up a new can of insecurities and doubts, and he kinda spirals into his own mind.

he even starts thinking about what if you regret marrying him, and/or having his baby. what if you decide you hate being a parent, or being married, or being a family all together?

what if this holds you back so much that you start to resent him. god he's so afraid of you resenting him.

and your moms being short with him doesn't make him feel better because now he just had a thought, what if your family hates him so much that they start talking to you about how much of a mess this is, and then you realize how they're right, and decide to leave him, or even worse, leave him and the baby?

it's all very irrational thoughts, and when he wakes up (after maybe 3 hours sleep), he realizes it is a bit.. ridiculous. just a bit. he knows you wouldn't abandon him so easily, and you certainly wouldn't be swayed by your family

but he also wouldn't blame you if you had, or have (now or in the future), any resentments. he just really wants it to work.

i think this is also the time when he realizes exactly how much his parents divorce fucked him up.

he very determined for you two to make it work as a family. not co-parents.

he wants to see his kid every day, he wants to see you everyday, he wants to celebrate every milestone as a family and he definitely doesn't want to fight with you like his parents did. and even more so doesn't want to make your kid hear or see all of it.

he doesn't wanna fight, and then you or him walk out for hours or days. doesn't wanna sleep in separate rooms, doesn't wanna sleep by the crib to comfort himself with the presence of his darling baby, or because you two fought, like his dad used to.

doesn't wanna have to explain why mommy* and daddy are fighting, or why they don't sleep in the same room, or why they aren't talking to each other, or why they aren't living together anymore.

definitely doesn't want to explain what divorce is and what that means for them.

(*just saying mommy for simplicity sake)

but he also doesn't want to repeat what his dad did, and take on all the burden by himself.

it's hard to find a balance too, because he's torn between working his ass off to provide and prove that he can do it, that you aren't making a mistake... and accepting help, or letting himself relax sometimes.

but i think wanting to be there for you during the pregnancy, forces him to leave his days more open.

of course he still works more than usual, but he also makes sure to carve out time to see you, and be there to comfort you or bring you food, flowers, or go on a date.

remember i mentioned therapy in the last post?

please encourage him to start it. because this is a very big transition in your lives, and you both want the best for yourselves and the baby, so lets do the work before they get here, okay?

fighting with his dad

now he definitely appreciates his parents concern, and their support and words of wisdom, all that stuff...

but when his dad says something like "you don't want to end up like me and your mom." or "you shouldn't mess up your future." or even if he insistently tells cove, "think about your future! y/n's future!"

cove gets upset, just because does that mean his dad is projecting onto him, and telling him that they're fucking up just like he and mom did? or is he telling him that he's dragging your future and his into the mud?

either way, that's what makes him say something mean, just like i said in the last post:

cove would probably end up saying something (a bit) hurtful like "i would never end up like you and mom." , "i would never marry MC if i didn't know it'd work. unlike some people, i'm not gonna make my kid listen to us argue and then try to play happy family." , or "trust me, my kid won't end up with a childhood like mine." / "trust me, my marriage won't end up like yours."

he definitely hangs up the call or walks away from his dad immediately afterward, shaking with anger and anxiety. he's so stressed. and he's worked up.

after the argument, there's only 2 places cove could go at this moment. to you, or to work.

and if he's at work, he's distracted, but tries to focus on his job. he's still mad at his dad, and he already feels like crying. he really didn't need his dad to doubt him.

he gets it. he gets it, he really really does. but he feels so fragile, that he'd really appreciate a little faith.

now if he's with you, which he'd probably run to you after work anyway just so he doesn't have to face his dad yet. he's like a big baby

he's holding you, arms around your waist and his head on your stomach or lap, or you're laying on your side and he has his hand on your belly, as if he's waiting for the baby to reach for his hand through your tummy.

when he tells you what happened, and why he's so somber, please run your fingers through his hair and just listen to him for a bit... eventually he'll start rambling about all the things he's been holding onto, including his fears about you resenting him

it'll probably be a long talk, but once you reassure him that you wanna make it work too, and that you know cove will be a good dad (and vice versa), and that your moms don't hate him, they're just... upset. and worked up about the turn of events.

and you talk about his dad too, and the argument, you both realize it comes from a place of concern.

he doesn't wanna see you two try to be a family and fail. he doesn't want you to make mistakes he did while raising cove...

conclusion, it's a very fruitful conversation. and cove goes back home, teary eyed and a bit like a lost puppy, and that night he doesn't find his dad waiting for him (cliff tries to work as late as possible, both because he wanted to give cove some space, but also because he has a bad habit of avoiding situations... so when he does get home, he spends the night in his room)

of course they can't avoid each other forever, and the next day cove actually makes the effort to find his dad during his lunch break to apologize.

he said something really hurtful, that i don't think cove could live with if he didn't apologize.

his dad definitely laughs when cove mentions that you said that cove should try therapy, and even if you don't say that his dad should consider it too, cove does say to his dad that a family therapist sounds like a good idea.

[mueritos]

Hello! Semi emergency trans question:

Is it true hrt makes u infertile? I have known it is a possible as with everything. I am a 24 yr old pre everything (testosterone and top) trans guy and saw the tiktoker rosemary and how she got all her stuff out for future children before she started hrt because she says hrt makes u infertile but idk if she was talking about estrogen or testosterone or both can. I wanna start t but I wnat to have children in the future do I need to start saving to harvest my eggs now or do I start t and then I can go off it ? I know everyone’s different but I just need advice.I’m semi broke so I’m like stressing

From what I know, estrogen can make you infertile if youre transfemme but this depends on a number of factors, like how long youve been on feminizing HRT and that persons specific relationship to fertility. Unsure if it’s reversible if youre off E, but I imagine its only reversible to a point.

Testosterone does not make you infertile and you CAN get pregnant on T or if you stop T to get pregnant. Some transmasc folks do freeze their eggs, but I follow a couple seahorse dads (mainly Kayden Coleman!) who have gotten pregnant and had children. This is why people say testosterone is NOT a birth control and just because it can stop your periods, it doesnt meant you cant get pregnant (chances are just low, but never zero).

Unless your family has fertility issues or you have other medical issues that can impact your fertility, you should be fine to start t, plan when you want kids, and then get off t to start trying. Its best you consult with your doctors and with whoever is going to be prescribing you T, and I would reach out to seahorse dads or find what information you can on trans fertility. There are a lot of informational subreddits online, but there are many seahorse dads online who Im sure would be happy to talk. Queer doulas may also be helpful if you want information on gender-affirming birth care.

hope that helped!

[nightfurynova1217]

Crazy revelation I just had about Soichiro's death. This occurred to me while writing a Beyond Birthday fic, and specifically having to keep in mind that death does not surprise him. Sure, he doesn't know how it'll happen, but he always knows when.

It's glossed over if not outright cut from the anime, but it's addressed in a blink-and-ya-miss-it way in the manga, that Soichiro was planning to commit suicide after the raid to Mello's base (for those who were unaware of that fact, it's because he believes his involvement in the case is putting his family in danger, as evidenced by Sayu being kidnapped). The reason he doesn't is obviously because he dies before then, because he cut his time in half after making the eye deal with Ryuk, and instead dies via gunshot wounds and the explosion. Soichiro's life was not taken by a death note, his lifespan was not completely cut short "before his time". My point is, his timer ran out.

MISA. HAS. THE. EYES.

Whether or not she would have figured out the exact formula for how long each tick is, or if she would have calculated the exact date and time, she would have at least seen that Soichiro didn't have much time left compared to everyone else. And she ABSOLUTELY would have told Light. A shinigami would never tell a human how much time they have left, or their loved ones, but there's no rule saying a human with the eyes can't. Even if she never calculates the exact time, she'd notice how much it's ticking down per day and could gauge about how much longer he'd have left. If you think she wouldn't, I'd like to point out that this is her future father-in-law. She would have made the effort. Even if for no other reason than to tell her long-term lover and boyfriend (whom she has lived with for nearly five years now, is her literal partner-in-crime, mastermind behind the schemes, and friggin Lord Kira himself), that his father is going to die in roughly X amount of time. Misa lost both her parents. She knows that pain. She would absolutely want to spare Light from it. She can't save him from it completely, she can't prevent Soichiro's death, but she can brace him for it.

All that now to say, it makes me wonder. Did Light know he was more-or-less sending his father to his death on that mission to raid Mello's base and get the death note back? What we see in both the anime and manga, it seems to suggest that he didn't know and it took him completely by surprise. But logically... he would have at least had an idea that it would be soon.

Now with that lens, while in the hospital and his dad is literally dying, it makes his internal dialogue about "how would a normal person react to this" make a lot more sense than that he has to pretend to care that his dad is dying. It's much less a matter of, "Light is a psychopath and doesn't care about anything other than his goals". It's now more like "he knew his dad's death was coming and has already come to terms with it". That's why it's not fazing him. I will concede that he didn't know that this would be how, or again, he knew it'd be soon but not today, so there's that aspect to consider (I bring that up to say that I like to think Light didn't put on a performance when he started crying, I wanna believe that was legit and he was grieving). But I'm totally open for friendly, civil discussion here.

I rewatched and reread the scene in question and, from a meta standpoint, I'm sure that Ohba just forgot and didn't consider that Misa would know he'd die. But from a character standpoint, I think it shifts the perspective on the scene and adds some interesting nuance.

Thoughts?

[redara]

Some life rant, so please excuse me if it sounds like i'm complaining. Trust me, i am grateful for everything this year, and excited for the year to come.

It's just... seasonal depresso happens. The last few months i've been overworking myself because i'm having trauma related insomnia, and i thought "hey i should just use the free time to draw and write". Turns out drawing drowns out the noises and it's been therapeutic. But drawing every day while keeping another job is tiring.

So, backstory, i have a veeery low chance of pregnancy. Last year i found out i was pregnant, and it was life changing. Hubby and i were excited, we planned for the future, the whole deal. Unfortunately, we had to terminate the pregnancy; there was no heartbeat.

To keep myself from spiralling, i kept myself busy with the fandom, specifically Mortal Kombat. I joined discord, found new friends, found joy from drawing and writing and reading the hcs and fanfics, replayed the old games again with Hubby, i had the opportunity to grow, to laugh, to be happy. I told myself to always see the positive; there is always ease after a hardship.

Last month, i had a pregnancy scare. I thought i was pregnant but the tests said "nope". And that false hope just sucks all the energy out of me.

Adding on top of that, the depresso makes me question everything in the bad way.

"why me?", "what did i do?", "where are my friends?", "does nobody care about me?", "they hate me, huh?", "of course they do", "i'm a nobody, just a grumpy old lady", "why do i bother making stuff?", etc, etc, etc.

So... yeah... It's a bit hard staying positive right now. I'm saying this not because i'm looking for pity, but because i wanna clear some stuff up; my mind is telling me there are people who hate and spin lies about me -- if there are any, i won't be surprised, but i just want to put my thoughts out; i haven't had the chance to properly vent/rant. Right now, i'm taking small steps to recover.

To everyone who has read this, and to those who know my struggle, thank you. I'm glad our paths have crossed. I hope happiness will always find you 💕

[firstknightvulion]

Wyll: Why does Minthara call you babygirl?

Tav: Because I am her babygirl. Duh.

Wyll: You’re not worried about her past as…herself?

Tav: Everyone has past. I don’t care about her body count.

Wyll: …do you mean sex or actual kills?

Tav: Yes.

Wyll: And her future plans?

Tav: She plans to conquer the Spider Bitch’s realm. Realistically, that’s gonna take decades. Probably a century or two. All the while, I get to help her doing what I love. Destroying anything associated with Lloth.

Wyll: So nice of you to find a common interest.

Tav: It helps the relationship. You know, vibing at the same frequency.

The thing about Minthara that is so compelling about her is that she is irredeemable. She is that bad bitch.

SPOILERS

When you play as the Durge and refuse his power, she has deleted lines where she will break up with you. You can ask her about your shared love and she will mock you for it. What is love before literal divine power?

That is the crux of who she is. I kinda wish they kept it in.

I play “good” characters. Which made the prospect of romancing Minthara kinda none existent before Patch 5 rolled around. But then we got a way to get her without the mass murder of innocent people. But still, I approached the romance with Minthara much more deliberately than the others. She’s still ruthless and cruel. You want a hardass woman that goes soft for you, you gotta pick Lae’zel. Minthara will never compromise who she is.

Usually, it’s the established characters that get twisted to fit into a specific mold to romance your avatar. In Minthara’s case, I’m twisting my character to romance her. A good, male Seladrine Drow is usually a character that most people consider as far fetched as a partner for Minthara. And that’s why I like it. It’s a challenge, it makes the characters feel more real.

I guess I just wanna say thank you to Larian to writing a character so compelling.