#and to be clear this is minimum 10 hours a week and only because I’m taking it through a community college

[good-night-space-kid]

Calculus is just this process on repeat

1. Look at the problems

2. Attempt problems

3. Get so frustrated that I cry

4. Go back to the book (no lecture videos for some reason)

5. This problem has never been mentioned in any form in the book

6. Cry

7. Give up and schedule a tutoring appointment

8. The tutor thinks I’m stupid and we only get through 1/6 problems in one hour

9. Go back to the problems alone and still confused

10. Cry

11. Turn in what I have a because I simply have no more calculus in me

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 16]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, dom!seungcheol, oral(fem receiving), a little overstimulation, some hair pulling, dirty talk, possessive!seungcheol makes an appearance, sex toys, seungcheol riskin’ it all in this one 😏😳 yall!!! only 4 more chapters after this 🥺 it’s so crazy, I don’t even remember when I started this series but omg, my longest one yet! 💕 thank you so much for the support on cherry bomb, as always!! I love yall 💕💕 also my god has it been a week 😭 gonna do an inbox roundup tomorrow!💕 But for now, enjoy ch16 and have a good, safe weekend!! 💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - x - x - x - x

“Let me get this straight… She asked you if you considered her your girlfriend and you said what?”

Seungcheol grimaces for the third time, brows furrowed when Jeongguk blinks at him incredulously. “I’m sorry, I just---I need to hear it from your lips again, hyung.”

“Ugh, I said ‘sure’, okay!? I got nervous! That was a big fuckin’ question!” Seungcheol tugs at his own hair, groaning as he slams his head down onto the concession stand. “Don’t even get me started on the look she gave me after. I had to sleep next to her, you don’t know how horrible that was after my fuck up.”

Jeongguk pats Seungcheol’s hair; shaking his head as he gently tries to comfort his hyung.

“What did she say afterwards?”

“She just said ‘oh, okay’ and then she changed topics.” Seungcheol lifts his head from the countertop, hair mussed as he stares back at Jeongguk who shoots him a pitiful look.

“And that was it? The two of you went to bed?” Seungcheol nods, “We ate a little and she started talking about work so I thought everything was okay? But the more I think about it the more I’m thinking ‘oh, okay’ isn’t really okay? Listen, I haven’t been in a relationship in a while and the last thing I ever expected out of meeting her was for her to be my girlfriend!”

Jeongguk laughs in return, “I can tell. You’re fuckin’ rusty as hell, hyung.”

“He said what?”

You groan as you pick up another plate. “He said ‘sure’ and then it got awkward. We ate dinner and then went to bed and this morning when he dropped me off, I felt like---weird? I was all shy all of a sudden, maybe even awkward.” Jun helps you clear off the table, taking a couple plates of his own before turning to face you.

“Like, ‘butterflies in my stomach’ kinda shy? Or, like, ‘that wasn’t really the answer I was looking for’ kinda awkward shy?”

Grimacing, you start to wipe down the table as Jun watches. “I’m not even sure. I mean… He didn’t say no, right? But I guess I was just expecting a little more than just ‘sure’. Nothing like, grandiose but… a little more than ‘sure’? It’s like he was replying to me asking if he wanted a piece of chocolate.”

Jun laughs, fingertips on his chin as he thinks of an appropriate response. “He might just be… awkward. I mean, what was the preface of this question? What conversation were you two having?”

Your lips press into a firm line, cheeks hot as Jun stares you down. “Okay… maybe you’re right. I didn’t really… work up to that question. I kinda just… asked it. I mean, you guys were asking about it in the comments too so I just thought--”

“Ah! There’s the problem though. I don’t think hyung was even in the chat at that point. So, just because all of us were talking about it doesn’t mean he knew, y’know? He might’ve just been caught off guard.”

“Ugh... fuck, you’re probably right.”

You and Seungcheol don’t talk about it.

Even though you can feel the tenseness between the two of you during dinner and even when he drops you off and picks you up from work Friday afternoon. It’s all clipped conversations and shy, awkward smiles like the two of you had met for the first time, all over again.

It eventually comes to a head when you’re only an hour away from needing to start your cam show, Friday night, and you realize that you weren’t sure if Seungcheol was going to be part of it or not. “Hey, ‘Cheol?” You ask, voice small as you stare at the back of his head. The male turns from his place on the sofa, eyes wide as saucers at your shy voice.

“Y-yeah?”

“Are you, um, going to cam with me tonight or…? I mean, I can do it alone, I just--I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, tonight.” Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek; he really wanted to talk about it and he didn’t understand why this, out of all the things, was so difficult for him to talk about.

“I--I don’t know. I just, I’m sorry, can I just... apologize first?” He groans as he gets up from the sofa and rounds it until he steps in front of where you sit atop the bed sheets. “It’s been so awkward and I know it’s because of me, so you don’t need to say anything. I just--I should’ve said more than ‘sure’, I was just nervous!” His cheeks burn red; wide eyes avoiding your own as you stare up at him. “I really want you to be my girlfriend, if I didn’t already make that clear. I was just thinking about how I never really expected you to like me that much, much less start a relationship with me, so the first thing that came out of my mouth was just… that. It was dumb, I should’ve said something else, but I think my brain was just mush by then.”

Your own cheeks feel hot at his confession; trying to hide the beaming smile that threatens to paint your features. “No--no, I should apologize a little too. I asked you that out of nowhere and made you panic. I should’ve worked it up better than that too.”

“I guess we’re both a little dumb, huh?” He laughs under his breath as he scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “We can talk about everything else under the sun but that was just… harder to talk about in the moment.”

“Yeah, but we’re okay now, right? We’re an official c-couple?” You bite your lip, looking up at Seungcheol who seems to be staring off into the distance. A grin finds itself painted on his lips as he meets your shy eyes.

“That’s right, babygirl.”

Seungcheol decides to let you do your cam show alone tonight; watching from the sofa as you get settled on the bed before nodding at him and starting your stream.

“Hey, everyone! Happy Friday!”

The comments and donations flood in as soon as you start and you already hit your donation minimum before you even open your mouth to speak again. It catches you off guard momentarily as your eyes go wide and your lips part in a shocked expression.

“Whoa, that was so fast! We already hit the donation minimum!”

sleepy_wonu has donated $75

sleepy_wonu: your channel has grown so much in the past few weeks im not surprised lol

universe_WZ: yea seriously, i remember when it took us like 30 mins before we hit minimum

artist8hao has donated $75

artist8hao: now theres ppl we’ve never even seen before in the comments lol

angelhan has donated $50

tangerine_kwan has donated $50

“Oh I know! Remember that one cam show where it took me, like, almost an hour to reach minimum? If it weren’t for ‘dom.cheol’ then, I don’t think that one would’ve taken off at all!” You giggle at the memory, eyes momentarily flitting to Seungcheol who smiles back at you.

kitty_junjun: speaking of? No loverboy tonight?

therealchan99: oh yeah i didnt even notice he was gone 😌

chwenon: lmfao

“Ah, he said he wanted to take a break tonight so it’s just me! Hope that’s okay with you guys?” You pout at the camera, fingertips roaming your lingerie clad body as you read off a few more comments. “I’m so used to his hands all over my skin though… He gets me to cum so easily, y’know?”

You pick up a dildo sitting next to you on the bed; bringing the silicone toy to your lips as you moan. “This is the biggest toy I have and it’s not anywhere near the size of his cock...” Wrapping your lips around the tip, you start sucking on the toy, imagining it was Seungcheol’s cock instead when it fills your mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut when you start grinding against the bedsheets underneath you and Seungcheol feels his throat going dry at the way you take more and more of the toy into your mouth until you’re gagging on it. Tears spring to your eyes when you feel your throat constricting around the silicone and you repeat this action a few more times before you’re pulling the toy from your mouth and sputtering to catch your breath.

gentleman_josh95: god youre so fucking pretty choking on cock

alphagyu97 has donated $50

alphagyu97: fuck i know

Setting the toy down, you immediately work to get your lingerie off; tossing it to the side before spreading your legs for the camera. “Mmh, I’m already so wet thinking about this toy filling me up…” You tease yourself with the toy, dragging the tip through your folds and collecting the wetness on it as you mewl.

xcaliburDK: but is it gonna be enough for you?

hoshi_tiger_xx: probably not, we all know the toys arent as good as the real thing lolol

You let out a whimper as you circle your clit with the tip of the toy. “I know… But I really want something inside my pussy…”

Seungcheol feels his cock throbbing in his sweats at the way your words only sound sweeter to his ears now that the two of you had cleared the air. He bites his lip, palming himself through the material as he watches you from his place on the sofa.

alphagyu97: is ur tight lil cunt ready to take it?

therealchan99: why dont u use your pretty fingers to get yourself ready hmm?

You nod shakily, setting the toy down again before bringing your middle and index fingers to your lips to wet them properly before snaking them down your body. “Ah, my fingers aren’t as big either…” Mumbling, you pinch and tease your clit, moaning out loudly before dragging them down and sinking them into your soaked entrance.

“Fuh--fuck, mmh!” Regretfully, your fingers aren’t as thick or long as Seungcheol’s but you curl and scissor the digits inside of you to prep yourself for the toy.

The sound of your moans and cries mix in with the pinging on your laptop from donations and comments and for once, Seungcheol realizes how weird it is to be on the other side and not with you. Admittedly, he’d gotten quite used to being on cam with you that it seemed awkward to just be doing nothing on the other side of the room.

“Oh, ngh, I--I want the toy n-now…” Mewling, you pull your soaking fingers from inside of your pussy; bringing them to your lips to clean them off of your wetness before grabbing the toy again. You run the silicone through your folds as you get it covered in your slick before positioning it at your entrance and slowly sinking it in.

It was definitely smaller than Seungcheol and didn’t have the same girth, but you still whine and whimper when it fills you up to the base of the toy. “Ngh, feels g-good…”

universe_WZ: i just kno that toy is noy as satisfying as the real thing huh princess?

xcaliburDK: right? Her pretty lil pussy is probably so used to being stretched by a big cock 

You thrust the toy into your pussy, soft cries spilling from your lips as you try to imagine it’s Seungcheol instead. In all honesty, you would’ve wanted him to film with you but you respected his decision to stay on the sidelines for tonight.

“Ah, it--it’s not the s-same… I--I need h-help…” You whine; shaky fingertips still working the dildo in and out of your soaking pussy. 

“P-please, ah… the toy’s not, mmh, enough to make m-me feel good...”

In the time between you picking up the toy and you actually sliding into your wet cunt, Seungcheol internally argues with himself on what to do.

And it’s not until you start begging to the air for more that he mentally says ‘screw it’ and gets up from the sofa.

Your eyes are clamped shut as you try to chase the pleasure and soon you feel the bed dip; confused eyes peering back at Seungcheol who’s entire body, including his head, is in the camera’s shot. “W-wait, you---”

“Me, what? You asked for me, right?” He turns his head, eyes staring directly into the camera as he smirks.

“Hi. I’m her boyfriend. But I think the rest of you know that already, right?”

The comments go wild with Seungcheol’s sudden face reveal, even though you and him are already lost in each other as he grips the base of the dildo and starts pumping it inside of you, angling it as best as he can to graze against your g-spot.

xcaliburDK: i think i need to quit my job tomorrow

chwenon: ??? didnt u just start

angelhan: damn i knew this dude was gonna be hot as hell

kitty_junjun: whoa nice to see ur face

kitty_junjun: i take it u lovebirds made up

xcaliburDK: yea i did but i think ive embarrassed myself enough for one lifetime

xcaliburDK has donated $150

xcaliburDK: for my shame

Your entire body is aflame with Seungcheo’s confidence and you feel the pleasure building up even quicker now that he was here with you. “Ah, f-fuck…” Whining, you bite your lip to prevent yourself from calling out his name; something you were used to by now.

“What’s wrong, baby? Call my name. Let them know who makes you feel this fuckin’ good. Let them know who’s cock you always crave and who’s cock fills you up better than this toy ever fuckin’ could.”

“Fuck, S--Seungcheol!”

Your orgasm hits you out of left field; thighs clamping shut around his arm as he continues to fuck you with the dildo as you ride out your pleasure. He turns to face the camera yet again, winking at it cockily before he turns back to you. “That’s right, baby. Now I’m gonna eat your ‘lil cunt out and make you cum on my tongue while you let the entire world know who gets you this fuckin’ wet.”

He doesn’t give you a second to come down from your high before he’s nudging your thighs apart and sliding the dildo from inside of you. A shaky breath falls from your lips as he readjusts you on the bed; this time giving the camera a side view as you turn your head to face the camera.

The comments and donations continue to flood in, except now it seems like they’re going twice as fast.

xcaliburDK: kjdkjghsdkhg fuck

sleepy_wonu: well can i say at least hes not an old weirdo lol

sleepy_wonu: ❤️

chwenon: im like, pretty sure ive seen this dude come to the convenience store i work at

chwenon: bruh i met a celebrity and i didnt even know it

xcaliburDK: dont even get me started

Seungcheol pries your shaky legs apart before he eases himself down between them. “I want you to be as loud as fuckin’ possible. Understood?” He smiles at you warmly, but his words have a certain edge to them that has you nodding profusely.

“O--okay…”

He wastes no time; skilled tongue flicking at your swollen clit as you jolt and immediately tangle your hands into his hair. “Oh, god, Seungcheol I’m--I’m, ah, sensitive…” He smirks against your skin, noting the way you already start to grind against his tongue despite your words.

Resting your thighs against his shoulders, it allows him to eat you out easier as he flattens his tongue and drags it from your soaking entrance to your clit; alternating the pressure as you whine and whimper above him.

When he notices you trying to keep your noises in, he pulls away slightly, flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue before speaking.

“I thought I told you I wanted to hear you, baby? Don’t get shy on me now.” He smirks, watching as the goosebumps rise on your skin. “In fact, why don’t you tell your lovely viewers how good I make you feel, hmm? Or tell them about the time you made me finger you in the restroom at work ‘cause your ‘lil cunt couldn’t wait.”

xcaliburDK: THE RESTROOM? At woRK?

artist8hao: ah one of the originals huh

gentleman_josh95 has donated $75

gentleman_josh95: for backstory

tangerine_kwan has donated $75

tangerine_kwan: seconded!

You bite your lip when you catch the comments, shy eyes flitting from the screen to Seungcheol who resumes eating you out. Your thighs tremble and threaten to snap shut around his head; body already on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I--S--Seungcheol was at, ah, w-work… and I--I couldn’t wait so--so I made him finger m-me in his work’s restroom…” You whimper, hangs tugging on Seungcheo’s hair harshly when his tongue dips into your entrance. “Fuck, I--I couldn’t stop thinking about, ngh, his--his fingers afterwards e-either… They fit my p-pussy so well…”

A garbled moan floats through the air when Seungcheol’s lips envelope your clit, sucking it into his mouth as your cry out his name.

Your back bows off of the bed, fingertips locked tight into his hair. “Fuck, Seungcheol, please… please…” You grind against him, toes curling against his back when your sensitive body gives into the pleasure and your orgasm washes over you a second time.

Cries of his name are all you can manage when your body goes rigid; head fuzzy when he starts to dip his tongue into your pussy again. He smiles against you, calmly continuing to eat you out as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

kitty_junjun: is it just me or is it nicer to hear her actually calling someones name

artist8hao: honestly i was just thinking that too

artist8hao: its more organic idk  

alphagyu97: ~organic~ ok nerd lol

chwenon has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $50

When the  overstimulation starts to bite, your soft cries of Seungcheol’s name turn into hurried, jumbled noises and only parts of his name as you squirm and tug on his hair.

“Ah, ‘Cheol it’s, ngh, too--too m-much…!” He drags his tongue against your clit a few more times, relishing in the way you still grind against him. “I c-can’t cum again…” You cry, teeth chattering when he gently laps at your folds and collects your wetness on his tongue.

Seungcheol repeats this a few more times; letting you tug and pull at his hair as he licks you clean.

“Ngh, Seungcheol…”

He finally pulls away, using a hand to pry your fingers from his hair as he smiles at your tired body. “Cute.” Mumbling, he eases your shaky legs from his shoulders before he sits up; lips covered in your wetness as he grins at the camera.

Seungcheol picks out a few comments as he chuckles under his breath; already wondering what work was going to be like on Monday when he had to meet Seokmin. 

universe_WZ: u look like a dude that could fuck someone up 

kitty_junjun: he probably would too

chwenon: come thru the convenience store bro, I'll hook u up 

xcaliburDK: should I quit? be honest

Your tired groans bring his attention back to you; eyes trained on the way your tired eyes threaten to snap shut. 

“Okay, I think I need to go take care of my girlfriend now. It was nice meeting you all, finally.” Seungcheol grins, taking care of your stream before thanking your viewers and ending the stream. 

He turns to you, a genuine and caring smile on his face when your hazy eyes look up at him. 

“Ready for a shower?”

“Ugh, carry me, boyfriend~”

[promptprophet]

Welcome back

I am not dead, although I am ready to throw down. Okay so there is a lot under the cut, but by every star in the sky I have been gone from all of my blogs for a while due to some roccuring issues. If any follow my main at @prophet-rebellion then you may have noticed that.

Some pro-tips:

1. Do not attend a gathering with family that does not believe in Covid. Because if they are anything like mine, someone will tell them they tested positive, your Uncle will encourage them to come anyways and not tell a single other person - and then, surprise surprise, everyone ends up with Covid.

2. Do not let your advisor plan your schedule entirely. Even if they are the Dean of your department. Because if they are still like mine, they will give you six classes. Which would not be an issue of 18 credit hours if it were not for the fact that 5 or the 6 are writing enriched. The only one that it not is math-based which is not my strong suite anyways.

But, in other news - I took a toll for the worst at one point. It has since gotten better. Granted, I had to be the biggest pain-in-the-ass to the campus physiatrist because he wanted to revoke some of my medication. Just because I am somehow making all As for the moment does NOT mean that I do not need my ADHD medication.

Speaking of! Yours truly got formally diagnosed with combination ADHD, depression, and anxiety. And after a lot of trial and error, we have found a medication and dosage that actually helps with the latter two! ADHD is still a work in progress because he is fighting me on it. He also doesn’t want me taking my meds unless I have a face-to-face class that day - as if it is some 9-5 weekdays only issue and I do not have class outside of those times, or online ones. But! A work in progress!

Also, Covid gave me the perfect chance to drop an incredibly toxic group of people in my life. One one hand, my mental health is so much better for it, and so is my own sense of self worth. On the other, it is definitely hard to do and hard to adjust to suddenly losing so many people. But I have reconnected with my 14 year old sister for the first time in 5 years - she wants to have lunch. Which is nice considering I have no spoken to my sisters in 5 years for her, 6 years for the older one (the middle). And I am also trying to reach out to my brothers more. It is interesting, because I did not know them until later. I am the oldest out of 5, 2 half-sisters of my mom’s side, 2 half-brothers on my dads, ironically enough.

I am also seeking out a competent doctor even with Medicaid, because I know need two more surgeries. This will make surgeries 4 and 5. It should have been 2 at most. But 5? And that is minimum, not counting if anything goes wrong again. It is taking longer, because I refuse to see my prior surgeon, and the only opening this past winter break as when I had to have my wisdom teeth removed, so, that did not happen.

Given circumstance I have managed to find a place to stay during breaks. Which is great because as some of you may recall I was kicked out after I turned 18 in 2019, and the room I rented over that summer was terrible (maybe leaving a known alcoholic with no regard for privacy alone with a just then 18 year old girl is a bad idea - if the number of times he barged into my room unannounced to try and get me to drink with him was anything to go by), but it was so my parents could travel full-time. Which, they are doing now and I am happy for them because my mom has 10 years maximum if she is lucky before needing oxygen (Smokers Lung), and my dad is dealing with medical injuries he got while serving - they discharged him because they would never heal right.

I have also picked back up with my job on my college campus! So money! And have secured a much better paying job over break than my McDonalds job, meaning I am not so hard pressed for cash. Which is also great because the last week of summer I had to dish out $2500 for my truck after it broke down in Tennessee and we had to get towed back to North Carolina.

So! Down to business! Now that I know what was wrong with me, and I no longer have issues with suicide, I’m on medication, and last semester I had a therapist that was a major help to me. I am actually in a better spot to be here. It has certainly taken a lot of work, and 2020-21 has thrown just about everything that it seems to have been able and hell, I am still looking for a third job.

Speaking of, god damn, the commissions! Jesus H. Christ, I wanted those done by January! And it’s March! Although I have been making progress on them, that is absolutely true - I am working on them a bit oddly though, switching between which ones I do to try and stop burn out and also because I was not drawing while mentally at my lowest. So to anyone who commissioned me who may not be looking at those messages, but sees this, I am sorry, they are being worked on. And I understand this is a ridiculous amount of time to wait for them and thank you all for being so patient.

I have also been considering if it is a good choice for me to come back to this page, and yes, I think that it is. Having something that I do every day has proven to be very helpful, and the amount of joy and love I have for these pages and the followers on them is immense. I was trying to clear out storage on my phone and I have an album just of prompts or asks that you guys have sent that continue to make my day. It really does mean the world to me.

I cannot be too sure if many have noticed my absence, if Prompt Guy did either. But I am stopping it now. I am finally in a good place. And yeah, I have a lot to do still - if all goes according to plan then I graduate next year. So after this I only have two more semesters before I graduate with my Bachelors in Business, with a focus on Entrepreneurship at the age of 20. And I better because I cannot afford to be in college much longer. I want to be back here, and return to my regular postings and interactions. I am getting those commissions done no matter what - that is a constant guilt over my head. Trust me, I know that it is there. I know. But I joined as an admin because I had followed this page the day it was created. And then I saw it had gone dead with no posts, so I applied as an admin. I got it. And things went very well. Well, I intend to hold back to what I wanted when I was first on this page, bringing it back to consistent postings for everyone.

I am here. I am back. And I am staying.

Also, I apologize if there are any typos, I have been doing a lot or writing for homework and personal work (trying to stop burn out and the threat of school ending my love to write) and my eyes have been strained the last few days, so everything is a bit fuzzy. Speaking of fuzzy! Turns out I needed glasses! So I have glasses now!

Yours truly, Prompt Prophet

[alarajrogers]

Everything Makes Sense: The Human Body and Energy

I wrote a thing. It is a very long thing. It probably contains very little information that most people didn’t already know, but it puts it together in a way I’ve never seen it before.

Most of it will be behind the cut but you get the first few paragraphs out here where you can see them.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything Makes Sense: The Human Body and Energy

So you know how you read all this bullshit about “X improves your energy” and “Y gives you quick energy but then you crash” and “Z improves your metabolism” and it all just sounds like words? Technobabble from the world of science fiction television shows?

It may surprise you to know that practically everything you’ve ever personally observed about energy levels makes sense, as do a lot of the layperson observations you’ve heard in your life, and that there are really good reasons why being sick makes you sleepy and why exercising hard on weekends when you’re a slug all week is bad for you, and that all of this is very understandable from a layperson perspective. Or maybe not, maybe you know all this. I’ve spent years knowing all this, but recently it just dawned on me that it’s all interconnected.  All the things I know are pieces of an amazing whole.

So I’m going to explain this revelation I’ve had, and when you read it, my guess is you’ll come away thinking “But I knew all that already… but now I understand how it all works together!”

Metabolism

First, let’s talk about metabolism. What is it?

We usually use the term to mean something like “the speed at which my body does the things I’m not consciously controlling it to do.” Like, “I have a really fast metabolism, so food just runs right through me!” Or “I have a very slow metabolism so I have to be real careful about how much I drink.”

To metabolize means for a living thing to process something it has ingested. Metabolism is usually used to mean the process of converting food and nutrients into energy. Sometimes we use it to mean the levels of efficiency or speed at which a body does this, which is where we get “a fast metabolism”. Here, I’m going to try to use metabolism specifically to mean the process by which your body converts stuff to energy.

Life Energy

No, a vampire from an alien planet can’t suck it out of you, but you really do have life energy! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be alive.

The fundamental molecule of life energy, the thing that if it wasn’t there no life processes would be possible because they would not have any energy to work, is a battery called ATP. Its full name, adenosine triphosphate, is a bit of a mouthful, but it basically means that this is a molecule with three phosphorus atoms.

You may have learned in chemistry class, once upon a time, that chemical reactions can be endothermic – they use up energy – or exothermic – they emit energy. Fire is an exothermic reaction; you get it started with heat, usually, but it generates a lot more heat than it took to make it burn in the first place. Your baking soda and vinegar volcano from the science fair a long time ago is also an exothermic reaction. You didn’t put any energy into it to make it bubble like that. On the other hand, melting ice is endothermic. You don’t get any energy when ice melts. It uses up energy to melt.

When ATP releases one of its phosphorus atoms, it becomes ADP – adenosine diphosphate, meaning just two phosphorus atoms! This is an exothermic reaction. ATP turning into ADP is what powers pretty much every single endothermic reaction in your cells. It’s the battery that you run on.

Charging the Battery

Fortunately ADP is rechargeable! An endothermic reaction turns it back into ATP.

The mitochondria do this. You may be thinking, “aren’t they something the lady who wrote A Wrinkle In Time made up?” And you’d be close. The mitochondria appeared in the sequel to A Wrinkle in Time, A Wind in the Door. Madeleine L’Engle didn’t make them up, but she did make up “farandolae”, little creatures in the mitochondria, which don’t exist as far as we know. (Although, if scientists do discover little thingies in the mitochondria that let it do its work, they’ll probably name them farandolae because scientists are big geeks.)

Mitochondria in reality are organelles, components of a cell that do work. They’re independent organelles, which have their own DNA and do all their own reproduction. The only other things we know that work like that are chloroplasts, which are only found in plants… so far. (Personally I think being able to photosynthesize from my skin would be awesome and I am eagerly awaiting the day that genetic engineering allows us to put chloroplasts in human skin, but this isn’t a thing yet.)

Mitochondria combine glucose – a molecule made of carbon, hydrogen and oxygen, in the formula C6H12O6 – with oxygen, an element that comprises about 22% of our atmosphere, to create carbon dioxide (there’s that di again, meaning two – carbon dioxide is one carbon and two oxygens), water (our old favorite, H2O, sometimes called “dihydrogen monoxide” as a joke about weird chemical names), and enough energy to put a phosphorus atom on a molecule of ADP. Now it’s ATP again! Glucose and oxygen combine in an exothermic reaction.

(Ever wonder why all life on earth depends on the sun? Converting CO2 and H2O into glucose and oxygen is an endothermic reaction. Plants use their chloroplasts to absorb energy from the sun so they can convert CO2 and water into glucose and oxygen. Then animals, like us, eat the plants to get the glucose, and breathe the oxygen. Without the sun, chloroplasts wouldn’t work, plants wouldn’t make glucose, and we’d all starve.)

The Basic Things We Need For This To Work

There are a lot of components going into this system.

The mitochondria need a steady supply of oxygen, but oxygen, being a highly reactive molecule, can’t just float around in the bloodstream like glucose can. (Glucose is iffy too, more on this later.) Hemoglobin, a molecule made with iron, bonds to oxygen and can carry it around safely. Red blood cells are full of hemoglobin. They float in the bloodstream, which goes everywhere in the body. Vitamin B12 is involved in the production of these red blood cells. The bloodstream also carries glucose, but hopefully not too much of it, because glucose is also a reactive molecule and if you have too much, it starts tearing shit up.

The lungs draw in the oxygen that the red blood cells carry, and expel the carbon dioxide. The heart forces the blood to go around and around in this system of blood vessels. The pancreas makes insulin, the hormone that binds up the glucose and regulates how much of it is available in your bloodstream for your cells to take. The speed with which all of this happens can be regulated by thyroid hormone, which requires iodine, and also a working thyroid.

You need all that and a million other things for the system to work perfectly. If the system does not work perfectly, you’re not making as much energy as you could be. That’s pretty obvious.

But here is the thing that’s obvious once you spell it out, and yet, we so often behave, as a society, like we don’t understand it or don’t believe it:

An optimized system still puts out a finite amount of energy at any given time.

If you were in perfect health, right now, you would still have a limited supply of life energy to work with.

We know this. But we behave as if it’s not true. As if we can power through exhaustion with willpower, because being exhausted is a flaw in the system, rather than a really obvious application of the laws of thermodynamics.

What Uses All That Energy?

We also often don’t think about the systems that use those energy, and what they use it for.

The Brain:

The brain is a huge energy hog, using up a whopping 20-25% of all of the body’s energy while awake and conscious (or dreaming – a dreaming mind is as active as a conscious one.) Asleep (but not in REM sleep), the brain still uses about 85% of that, which, lemme do some math here, is 17% if the waking mind was using 20%. A living being can drop to about 50% of that with certain types of anesthesia, but that – the minimum required for a brain to keep a body alive – is still 10% of total energy consumption.

It's not clear how much energy on top of that a very active brain needs. Estimates of how much energy complex and difficult thought consume range from 100 calories a day to 6000! It’s plainly not much on top of basic consciousness, or there’d be no such thing as a fat person doing highly intellectual work all the time, but it’s evident that it’s something.

The Muscles:

We all know about this one. Hard-working muscles use up a lot of energy. How much? Well, swimming, one of the few activities we do that can fully engage the leg muscles and the arm muscles to the same high level at the same time, can burn as much as a quarter of a normal daily intake of calories in a single hour. Most of the time our muscles are not working that hard, but anything more strenuous than vegging out on a couch does burn resources.

The Immune System:

This guy. This guy is the one everyone forgets. The immune system is hard at work all the time protecting you from infections (and, if you’re one of the zillions of people who have allergies or autoimmune disorders, things like cat dander, pollen, and yourself apparently), but when an infection has actually taken hold, the immune system goes into high gear. Most of the responses you experience when you’re sick – nausea, coughing, sneezing, runny or stuffy nose, fever – are actually things the immune system is doing to you to get rid of the infection. Nausea, to expel it through the mouth. Diarrhea, to expel it through the anus. Coughing, to expel it from the lungs, and sneezing, to expel it from the sinus cavities. Mucus, to trap it so it can be expelled. Fever, to kill it, because germs are a lot more sensitive to temperature variation than you, a large multi-celled creature, are. It takes a lot of energy to do all that. Plus there’s white blood cells and T cells and antibodies, all doing their thing.

The Digestive System:

Ever hear the expression “It takes money to make money?” That’s true of life energy as well. The work of moving your food all along the gastrointestinal tract, breaking it down, squeezing and mushing it, making the enzymes to convert it to molecules small enough to get out into the bloodstream, and then pushing the waste out – that’s a lot of effort. There’s no such thing as a free lunch!

The Reproductive System:

Making sperm costs energy. Making a lining for an egg and then expelling it if it’s not used costs energy. Firing up the hormones that cause libido costs energy. And then there’s all the energy burned by the muscles in actually having sex.

Heart and Lungs:

Typically we don’t think of these things as needing a lot of energy because, quite simply, your body’s going to take the energy it needs to run these essential systems whether you want to or not. There’s no re-allocation of baseline energy away from the heart and lungs. But in exercise, when the oxygen demands and the needs of the muscle cells to get more and more fuel increase, the heart and lungs need more energy too.

This is a rough breakdown. You have other systems – we haven’t talked about kidneys and liver and stuff like that – but we’re going to look at these systems in our simplified model.

Everything takes energy. And you have a finite pool of it. Eating more food does not give you more energy – your mitochondria can only work as fast as they can work. If you weren’t at capacity, then yes, food can give you a boost, but it consumes energy first because digestion is work, and if you’re at capacity, any extra calories get stuffed away as fat because extra circulating glucose is bad for you.

By the way, this is why sugar gives you a quick pick-me-up, and should probably be considered a stimulant! Sugar – sucrose, which is basically 2 glucose molecules smushed together, or fructose, which is glucose but in a different shape – supplies your bloodstream with glucose fast, with very little extra work. And it can start doing it in your mouth, because your saliva can break sucrose into glucose and your mucuous membranes can pull glucose into your bloodstream.

But as soon as you start ingesting sugar, your pancreas revs up your insulin production (assuming you don’t have diabetes, or that if you do, it’s type II and not so advanced that you basically don’t have your own insulin anymore.) Insulin, you may recall, is the hormone that keeps circulating glucose levels in your bloodstream down to the levels where the mitochondria can use all of it and there isn’t a lot extra. Extra glucose that nobody is using damages your blood vessels, making them harder and less elastic, which is why circulation problems are a big thing with diabetes, and why my feet are SO FUCKING COLD all winter, not that I’m bitter or anything.

So. You ate sugar, and your body prepared to balance your glucose levels with a lot of insulin. But then all you ate was sugar. You didn’t add fats or proteins or complex carbohydrates in any significant amounts to keep the glucose coming after the initial burst was over. So now you have all this insulin and it went and picked up all the extra glucose and now you know what? Not only is there no extra glucose anymore, there isn’t even enough to keep the home fires burning! Woo, dizzy. Low blood sugar hits the brain hard, because the brain is the energy hog, and feels any dip in energy levels before any other body systems do.

In short, you may have given yourself a quick burst of extra fuel, but in the long run, it may actually make your energy levels drop. And if you ate a substantial meal to go with that quick snack… now we have to send power to the digestive system. And that is why eating more food does not give you more energy unless you’re starving. (Or diabetic, more on this later.)

Energy Trade-offs:

You know the drill. Finite amount of energy. Many systems competing for it. Brain takes the most. So what happens when one system suddenly needs extra?

1.       Complex thought shuts down.

I know you’ve experienced this. You’re overtired, or you’ve just done hard exercise, or you have eaten a big meal, or you are sick. You can no longer brain at the levels you expect. Study? Maybe, but retention and comprehension will suuuuck. Math? Probably not. Reading? Depending on how difficult reading in general is for you, maybe this is just the thing, but the topic’s going to be light and easy to comprehend, like fiction, or maybe this article here that you’re reading. Or, maybe reading’s out of the picture. Watching TV? For most people, this is ideal, but if you’re autistic and have an auditory processing disorder and facial recognition issues, hoo boy. Not that I know anybody like that, or anything.

2.       Muscles need to be at rest.

Muscles don’t have to move a lot. You could be sitting on a couch. You could be laying in a lawn chair. You’re awake, but you don’t want to move your muscles because it’s hard.

When what you lack to burn your fuel is not glucose, but oxygen, you can get by sometimes. As long as there’s some oxygen. But the byproduct of making energy without enough oxygen is called lactic acid. Which is acid, and it’s in your muscles. Not good! Nobody likes extra acid in places where extra acid shouldn’t be. So your muscles burn. The good news is, the body breaks down lactic acid pretty fast. The bad news is, you may be building it up faster than the body can break it down.

Hard exercise? You’re gonna feel the burn. But you may run into this same problem attempting to walk to the bathroom if you’re very very sick, because all the energy has been re-routed to the immune system, so there’s nothing there for the muscles.

3.       Consciousness itself shuts off.

The unconscious brain still consumes a lot of energy, but we’re cutting what we can, and you being conscious is not helping here. Shut down anything we don’t immediately need to use. That includes consciousness.

If you are bleeding out and there’s not enough blood in your body to carry the fuel –

If your blood pressure is low or your heart has stopped working and so the fuel isn’t moving fast enough to where it needs to be –

If your circulating glucose is too low because there’s too much damn insulin –

If there isn’t enough water in the body, so blood pressure drops because blood is mostly water –

If you have a fever, which makes all the chemical reactions in your body go kind of screwy and inefficient –

-- You pass out. You cannot remain conscious because your body has to cut services to keep the whole thing going, and this is how.

Sometimes stupid shit triggers this reaction. Like vasovagal syncope, which can happen from triggers like extreme emotional stress or the sight of blood. Like getting blood drawn (which is probably also vasovagal syncope but seems to have a more physiological basis than some of the other things that can cause it, given that it can occur in people who are absolutely cheerful and fascinated by the fact that blood is leaving their body and not upset about it at all. Not that I would know anything about that, either.)

4.       Or, you are highly encouraged to shut down consciousness.

The digestive system is hard at work. There’s no emergency, per se, but this work would get done a lot faster and with less stress if you would just go the fuck to sleep. Thus, “carb coma” or what the cartoon “The Boondocks” called “The Itis.”

The immune system is busting its ass. Things aren’t so serious that you need to pass out. Falling asleep vs. fainting is kind of like shutting down your computer vs. suddenly losing power. You definitely want to go to sleep if the situation is not dire enough to require immediate shutdown of consciousness.

Your body needs to run nightly maintenance. Several systems that operate in low gear when you’re awake need to rev up, and your brain actually needs to do some shit to organize your memories while you’re not recording new ones, and extra energy is needed for the immune system because it’s doing nightly sweeps. Or something like that. We don’t really understand everything that sleep does for us, but we know that if we don’t get it:

-          The pancreas doesn’t work right, resulting in getting fat and maybe diabetes

-          Also high blood pressure

-          Also memories are kind of shit

-          Also the immune system doesn’t work too well

We don’t actually know how your brain would operate without sleep if it wasn’t saturated with the “go the fuck to sleep” chemical GABA, which is broken down while you’re sleeping. GABA does a lot of things, but in this context, GABA builds up in your body to send the signal to your brain to stop using so much damn energy and sleep already. And if you attempt to function mentally with high GABA levels… well, you can’t, okay? Your brain is full of GABA receptors that tell it to turn things off. So those things are turning off. How well does your computer run when it's in the middle of shutting down? I thought so.

(Actually we kind of do. There are chemicals that block tiredness. People who use these chemicals can function on significantly less sleep at significantly higher cognitive levels than people who are not on these chemicals. But the stuff like the high blood pressure, the diabetes, the immune system weakening… all that appears to still be happening. Sleep happens for a reason.)

5.       Other systems that are highly dependent on energy levels shut down.

 -          Exercised your ass off? Now your digestive and immune systems have been tamped down because the energy went to your muscles. Eating when the digestive system isn’t working at full capacity results in stomach cramps or nausea. Forcing the digestive system to work when the muscles need maximum energy levels causes muscle cramps. This is why you’re not supposed to go swimming after a big meal – muscle cramps while swimming can kill you.

-          Ate a big meal? I bet you are not feeling like having sex right now. Probably also not winning any chess tournaments. And don’t move around too much!

-          Feeling sick? Cough, runny nose, sneezing? You’re probably not too hungry. (Especially not when you have a fever. Fevers burn a lot of energy.) You probably do not feel much like having sex. Your muscles ache and you don’t want to move around much. And you are sleepy.

-          Feeling randy, baby? You are probably not also feeling hungry.

What Happens When We Game The System?

I briefly mentioned stimulants above – chemicals that artificially reroute energy levels back to the brain, improving concentration and mental acuity, at the expense of everything else.

Well, not literally everything else. Stimulants suppress pain to some slight extent, increase heart rate and blood flow, and make your muscles more eager to do work. Many people report that stimulant use also makes them horny. So those systems are in good shape too. But you know what took a hit? Your digestive system and your immune system. Now, your digestive system… you can feel that immediately. People take stimulants in order to lose weight, sometimes, because they’ll suppress your appetite. Energy rerouting to brain and muscles means the body shuts down digestion. What’s already there will get processed but let’s not add to it, okay?

You did not feel your immune system slow down and weaken. You won’t, today. But maybe tomorrow you’ll get sick. Maybe the day after that.

Oh, but you gotta work, right? The boss won’t tolerate you not coming in. So you stuff yourself full of stimulants – pseudoephedrine, dries up your nose and keeps you awake; caffeine, keeps you focused – and go to work anyway. With energy being forced away from your immune system to keep your brain and your muscles working. That’s not gonna work out well for you, now is it. You wanna pull the military off the front lines to have a parade, when you’re being actively invaded?

Keeping your brain functioning at full capacity, continuing to use your muscles, when you’re sick, will slow your recovery time, because you took the energy away from your immune system to pump it through your brain. Because the amount of energy you can produce is finite, and relatively fixed.

Oh, you can improve some things. Your blood and everything it does, and practically every chemical reaction in your body, is totally dependent on the presence of water, so stay well hydrated. Stock your body well with the vitamins and minerals you need to make all these things function. Are you getting enough oxygen, citizen? Eat food, but with the right balance of carbs and proteins and fats so that your digestive system isn’t overtaxed, you don’t end up with an insulin spike, and you’re not wasting resources. If your system lacked any of these things, then you can improve metabolic efficiency, and your energy levels, by providing them.

But stimulants can’t give you energy. They can make you feel like they did because the energy is going to places where your conscious mind can feel it… but they didn’t increase the amount of energy you have. Resources are being taken away from other areas. Your immune system is taking a serious hit right now. And you can’t feel that, but it’s gonna fuck you up later.

Brains That Have To Work Extra Hard At Basic Stuff

This is a simplified model, but: all brains are full of little modules that do things. And consciousness, ego, is actually pretty bad at most stuff. The little modules that do things are like dedicated co-processors for specific tasks. Spatial processing. Language acquisition. Basic math. Recognizing faces. Managing executive functions.

The neurotypical mind comes with a basic set of things that neurotypicals don’t even realize exist unless they study psychology or spend a lot of time with neurodivergent people, because they all have them. The thing that recognizes faces. The thing that processes sound into speech. The thing that generates speech from thought. The thing that picks up social rules. The thing that can look at letters and figure out easily and quickly how to pronounce them. The thing that tunes in to body language cues. The thing that’s always aware of how loud you’re talking. The thing that enables you to kind of guess how much time has passed. The thing that lets you control what you’re paying attention to. The thing that does basic math.

Many of these little modules need to be trained – language and math and reading don’t suddenly appear in people’s brains, they’re taught – but once trained, the little modules just… do the thing. The person doesn’t have to think about it. They no longer experience any sense of “I’m doing a thing”, it’s just happening.  

Not all neurodivergent minds have these things. Many such minds have found a workaround. Use conscious processing power, not black box processing power, because the black box isn’t there, but main cortex is. You can apply intelligence to solve problems like “who is that guy, I know that I know him” and “what are the words those people are saying” and “how do I turn those letters into a sound”. “How do I keep track of how much time I am spending on this?” “How do I make myself do shit that bores me?” We use conscious mind processing power, not the much more efficient black boxes that people aren’t even aware they have.

But what happens when energy is sucked away from the conscious mind, and we’re reduced to vegetating, still awake but without the ability to perform complex thought right now?

If we’re routing skills through the conscious mind, we will lose those skills in proportion to how much we lose the ability to think in general, as energy is drawn away from the brain. And NTs, using the much more efficient black box modules, have no idea that this is even a thing that can happen. It would take far more drastic energy loss for them to lose the work the black boxes do.

Some of us have black boxes that the average NT does not have. I can do complex worldbuilding in my head when I’m so exhausted I can’t talk anymore. There are people who just know the answers to complex arithmetic problems the way most of us just know the answer to 2 times 5. Some people have advanced spatial processing coprocessors that mean they’re almost never lost, because they’re effortlessly creating a map of their surroundings any time they go anywhere, and something in their head is tracking what direction they are in and what turns they’ve made. But some of us do not. Not all of us get a trade, skill for skill. And some of us get black boxes that turn out to be kind of useless. Like, suppose a person more or less effortlessly memorizes the name of every dinosaur ever discovered. Unless they are a paleontologist, when is that going to help?

The important thing to note here is that even a small drop in energy can cause a noticeable drop in an ND’s ability to fake being “normal”, because they are using a less efficient means of computing to perform those skills, and it cuts out on them when energy has to draw down from the brain to go somewhere else.

Spoonies

People with auto-immune disorders are constantly using high levels of energy to do useless and self-destructive shit (not that they want to, but their immune system did not ask first), because their immune system is always on high alert against things like their own nervous system. Overactive immune system consumes energy; body parts taking damage consume energy.

People with cancer or other diseases that lead them to take chemo are burning a lot of energy trying to replenish vital functional cells that the chemo keeps killing. Chemo destroys fast-dividing cells… like white blood cells, and the ones in your mucous membranes, and the ones in your hair follicles. And you can do without hair, but you sort of need your mucous membranes and your white blood cells.

People with fatigue disorders might be suffering from an auto-immune issue, or they might be suffering from a metabolic issue. For instance, low levels of thyroid hormone will cause metabolic processes across the board to slow down, drastically decreasing the available energy.

People with depression might literally actually have a fatigue disorder that manifests in not having enough energy to process serotonin and dopamine correctly. Also, serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine are brain chemicals that do energy routing, having an effect on what the body is putting energy into. Failures to produce enough of those or at appropriate times, or spending energy breaking them down when you still need them, will screw with the body’s ability to deliver energy to the right places.

Whatever the reason, if you have a disorder that drains your energy… even if that’s all it does, even if it literally has no other symptoms, having something that lowers your available energy for your brain and muscles makes it literally impossible for you to function at the levels you would like to. Like, the same way it is impossible for a Chevy Malibu to go 800 miles on one tank of gas. The available energy is not there. Either it is going someplace stupid that you’d rather it didn’t, or metabolism itself just isn’t working well.

If you are neither a spoonie nor neurodivergent, odds are, your body’s working at a reasonably high level of efficiency already, so you can get a dramatic improvement when you find one of the few things you lack, and you fill that need. Hydrate? (Everything runs on water) Exercise? (Speeds up circulation, and fitness in general will cause your metabolism to be more efficient) Vitamins? (Sure, if you’re missing some, vitamins are real useful.)

But if the problem is, you’re pouring energy into activities society requires you to engage in but your brain cannot do them easily and efficiently, so they cost you a lot more than others; if the problem is, your body is wasting a lot of energy on an immune response to things that shouldn’t need an immune response; if the problem is, there’s a food your body can’t break down, so you’re eating enough to feel full but never getting enough energy from it; if the problem is, your metabolism is lacking something esoteric that almost everyone else has enough of, so it’s nearly impossible to figure out what’s missing… exercise and hydration and vitamins will not help. Or, they may help, if you were lacking them, but they won’t fix the problem.

Expecting you to just push through a lack of energy through willpower is a total misunderstanding of how the brain and body work. You cannot do what you don’t have energy to do, and if you route energy to your brain or muscles to accomplish something that requires really pushing yourself, you are taking it away from somewhere else. Probably your immune system. So you’ll get sick. And then you’ll be even more overtaxed.

It’s amazing the degree to which ignorant people think that all bodies literally work the exact same way. (And yet many of these ignoramuses think that people of a different race are somehow completely different from them in some fundamental way. Make it make sense.) What’s even worse is the number of doctors who believe that the only way bodies can malfunction are the ways they happen to know about, so anything outside their experience is fake.

But if you understand how complex the system is and how variable the things that can go wrong with it are, and you understand the role of energy, and energy distribution, in the body, it becomes obvious. You can’t force yourself to do what you don’t have the energy to do without taking it away from somewhere else.

Weight and Energy

There is no question that it’s possible for a human to get to a place where their weight is a severe drain on their energy levels. But very few people are actually there.

Muscle is heavier than fat. But muscle does the work of dragging the weight of a body around. A body with good muscle tone – fat but fit – is in a much better position, in terms of energy production and distribution, than a thin body with weak muscles.

Fat actively helps with energy conservation in the cold. A fit fat person – someone whose musculature is strong and healthy enough that they have no difficulty moving their own weight – has reserves to burn in the event of a disorder that consumes so much energy, it inhibits digestion. (To be honest, so does a weak fat person, but they’re losing energy every time they move because they’re too heavy for their own muscles. But this is true of physical weakness in general.)

Not everyone can be fit! Exercise, if you recall, is one of those things that burns a lot of energy! If you already have very little energy, you’re going to have a very hard time exercising enough to become fit.

All of this is normal. It’s natural. It makes sense. Why would being fat automatically make you less healthy in all situations than someone thin? Being underweight is correlated with a significantly shorter lifespan than being overweight.

I’m Gonna Talk About Diabetes Here

We’re told over and over that there’s a giant health crisis among Americans of increased obesity, and this is causing diabetes.

Bullshit.

Consider this. Diabetes is a disorder where you don’t produce enough insulin, but many Type II diabetics got that way because their body massively overproduced insulin to the point where they wore out their pancreatic cells. Remember when I said insulin takes circulating glucose out of the blood stream and stuffs it somewhere safe? You know where it stuffs it? Fat cells. Doctors have been telling people that being overweight causes diabetes… when we know for a fact that diabetes is caused by insulin resistance, a condition where the cells don’t respond well to insulin, so insulin levels go up, and the body’s ability to produce its own insulin is worn down by heavy overproduction. Do the math. You had high levels of insulin production for years because your cells were resistant to insulin? Insulin stores sugar in fat cells, as fat? Gosh, I wonder if the condition that led to your becoming diabetic happened to be the exact same condition that caused you to get fat!

In a case like that, losing weight wouldn’t do jack shit for your insulin, but changing the way you eat so there’s less circulating sugar in the first place would, and this would cause you to store less in your fat cells, which would cause you to lose weight. But it’s not the weight loss that helped you. You couldn’t solve your problem by cutting calories, because calories didn’t get you into this position. High levels of circulating glucose did. Exercising super hard and going on a diet and actually losing weight – which would be hard, because super high levels of insulin storing all that sugar as fat, and yet your blood sugar is still high because your cells don’t respond to the insulin, but let’s say you pull it off – that does nothing. Maybe you see an improvement in your symptoms because eating very little produces very little circulating blood sugar… though now you’ve got some other symptoms. Namely, no energy. And any improvement you experienced is temporary, because you’re addressing a symptom, not the problem.

Doctors know that insulin stores sugar as fat. Doctors know that diabetic people with Type II generate higher and higher levels of insulin as their body tries to compensate for not responding to it, until finally the cells give up and the patient needs to take artificial insulin. And yet, somehow, we are still hearing “fat causes diabetes, lose weight and you won’t get diabetes!” There’s a disconnect here.

Overclocking

I’m going to talk about something as dangerous as fuck here.

When your body’s natural systems are not regulating your blood sugar, and so you can have greater than normal levels of sugar in your bloodstream… this can make the pie higher.

Remember I said you can’t increase your energy levels by adding more fuel, because the mitochondria can only work as hard as they can work? Well, that’s not completely true. Mitochondria can apparently work harder than that, if they have access to more sugar. It’s just that more sugar is destroying your circulatory system, resulting in damage to your retinas, the nerves in your hands and feet, your ability to regulate the temperature of those extremities, the speed at which you can grow back skin in an injury, and, oh, pretty much everything else.

Get to a certain level of blood sugar and you feel like absolute shit. But in the range between that – higher than you should be but lower than the levels you can actually feel bad in – you have more energy.

This is fucking awful, to be honest. Everyone wants more energy! Energy helps you get shit done! More energy to the brain makes your brain work better.

And you want the sugar. You want the high glucose. You don’t know that’s what you want, but you know you crave sweets and carbs, and when your glucose is high (but not too high), it’s a stimulant. You’re awake, you can focus, your mental energy is good. Cut down the way they tell you that you need to, when you’re diabetic, and now you’re sluggish and depressed.

It’s killing you slowly but not doing it is depressing and hard and the slow death isn’t causing you any significant amount of suffering, until it does, and then it’s too late.

Sugar is a drug and you’re addicted. But it’s food. There are no regulations to protect you from eating all the food you want. There is no social opprobrium in general against sweet foods or carb-high snacks. (If you are fat you might suffer from this, but thin people are allowed to eat whatever the fuck they want, and honestly if you’re fat you will probably catch shit for eating a nice big steak, which is a lot better for you if you’re diabetic than a piece of toast.)

You’re overclocking your brain, the same way gamers overclock their PCs to get higher performance. Except that when they melt their CPU they can just buy a new one. You are not buying a new brain anytime soon.

I Am Not A Doctor

I didn’t go to medical school. I did study biology at the graduate school level, but no medical degree.

But everything I’m saying is backed up by pretty much any source I look at. It’s just that the conclusions that I’m drawing, while they are logical outgrowths of the things I’m saying, are for some mysterious reason not the conclusion that people who go to medical school are drawing.

Bodies are all different. Bodies are very complicated with many interlocking systems. Many, many things can go wrong with bodies. Far more things than science is fully aware of yet. Therefore it makes perfect sense that if someone is tired all the time for no good reason, there is a good reason and we just don’t know what it is. If someone can’t easily do a thing another person can do, that is absolutely normal and expected, unless that other thing is something that falls into a range that most humans can easily do. Then all of a sudden it becomes impossible to imagine that a human couldn’t do it? Bullshit. We don’t understand the brain perfectly.

It is absolutely normal that when a person’s energy levels are high, they have the resources to accomplish things they cannot do when their resources are low. The notion that if you’re disabled, there’s a thing you can’t do and you can never do it and that is the way it has to be, is nonsensical. Yes, of course some people are disabled in that way. If you have no legs, then no matter how much energy you have, you will never have legs. But you might be a lot better able to tolerate uncomfortable prosthetics when your energy levels are high.

“If you could do it today then why couldn’t you do it yesterday?” I don’t know, Karen, why couldn’t you vacuum your carpet after you’d been working all day, when you were pushing that vacuum around with no trouble last weekend? People can accomplish more when they have more energy. Doing things consumes energy. Once your energy is consumed, the fact that it can only replenish at a finite rate means you have to wait to get more. While you’re waiting, you can’t do stuff, because stuff takes energy, that you don’t have, because you used it up on other stuff. What part of this is unclear?

Being fat is a symptom of underlying conditions in most of the diseases that it’s correlated with. It’s not that being fat is unhealthy, like losing weight would make you healthy again; it’s that it is a symptom of your disorder that shows up before the more definitive symptoms do. It is possible to improve your health by exercising and changing what you eat, and sometimes, this may result in weight loss, but it wasn’t the weight loss that improved your health. It was becoming fitter (more muscle) and eating stuff that isn’t poisoning you because some of your metabolic pathways don’t work. If you don’t lose weight, you may still be getting healthier.

(I suspect it’s actually true that being fat will damage your joints. You’re putting more of a load on them, so it makes logical sense. What doesn’t make sense is to say that being fat causes diabetes and high blood pressure when we know for a fact that overly high levels of insulin cause both being fat and diabetic, and overly high levels of blood sugar cause high blood pressure, heart disease, and general circulation problems, so. Um. All of these things come from insulin resistance? That is the problem? Not the weight, that’s a symptom?)

And sometimes, sugar is an addictive drug. If you’re feeling self-satisfied because you’re not an alcoholic, and you don’t smoke, and you’ve never taken an illegal drug, but you can’t do without your blueberry muffin in the morning and your ice cream after dinner… stop feeling superior to people addicted to illegal substances or well-known vices. The only difference between them and you is that you got addicted to a substance that will kill you but that is safe for most people, and because it improves your mood and your productivity, capitalism is more than happy to let you indulge it until you drop dead.

[demxters]

When There Was Me and You-Part 1

jj maybank x reader 

summary: When the reader finally awakens from a coma, JJ Maybank’s world gets turned upside down.

word count: 3.7k 

warnings: swearing, mentions of a car accident (?), descriptions of a panic attack 

series masterlist  

my masterlist  

a/n: i’m so excited to share this with you all! i worked on this all night so i hope you guys enjoy! i’m not sure how long this series will be yet, but i hope to get the next part out soon! 

(not my gif) 

***

Beep. Beep. Beep. 

JJ felt like he was in purgatory. The constant beeping of the heart monitor was currently the only thing giving him hope. It’s been three weeks, 504 hours, 30,240 minutes, and 1,814,400 seconds (he may or may not have begged Pope to do the math) since he’s last heard your voice. His sweaty hand was firmly grasping yours, afraid that if he let go you would slip away. JJ didn’t dare go further than the hospital cafeteria while you were there. The Pogues and your parents had to practically drag him out of there every other day to get him to shower, get a change of clothes, and eat some food. And every time he left, he made sure that whoever was watching you promised to call him for even the slightest change in your state. Because the hospital only allowed one overnight patient to stay with you, your parents were kind enough to give that privilege to JJ. 

“JJ, it’s my turn to take over,” Kie’s voice breaks the unbearable silence. 

He lets out a shaky breath. He goes through this routine every time he has to leave your room, even if it was just to use the restroom. He squeezed your hand, and silently counted to 10 in his head. 

10… 

He places a kiss to your palm. 

9…

Then one on your wrist. 

8… 

Another in your hair, 

7… 

On your forehead,

6… 

The apples of your cheeks, 

5… 

Your chin, 

4… 

The spot behind your ear that you loved so much, 

3… 

And finally your lips. 

2… 

1… 

JJ’s lips leave yours, his tears falling onto your cheeks. He wipes them away and leans his forehead against yours. “I’ll be back before you know it, my love,” he whispers. “I love you.” He turns to face Kiara who’s patiently waiting by the door. “If anything changes, anything at all-” 

“I know, I know. Call you right away,” Kie says. 

JJ nods, walking past Kiara and giving her a hug. He buries his head into her neck and mumbles, “Thank you for being here.” 

At this Kiara feels her eyes begin to water, her heart aching for her two best friends. “Of course,” she whispers to him. 

JJ lets Kiara go and gives you one last look before walking out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway. On his way down the hall, he sees your parents sitting a little ways outside your hospital room with their heads pressed together as they spoke in hushed whispers. 

Your mom notices JJ walking their way and nudges your father who looks up from the catalog in his lap. “JJ,” your mom says, with a small smile. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N, Mr. Y/L/N,” he greets back with a small nod, shoving his hands into the pocket of his shorts, stopping in front of them. 

Your dad stands up and shows the catalog that was in his lap to JJ. “We’re thinking of ordering Y/N a bouquet. Which one do you think she’ll like best? Y/M/N thinks that she’ll like the lilies, but I completely disagree. I think she’ll like roses.”

JJ doesn’t even have to look down at the catalog to know which flowers to get you.“Sunflowers,” he states. “You should get her sunflowers.” 

“That’s an excellent choice JJ,” your mom says. “Are you heading out?” 

“Only for a little while,” JJ says. “Just for a quick shower and a change of clothes. I’ll be back before the nurse’s rounds.” 

Your dad sits down, clearing his throat. “JJ, thank you for being here for us, for her.” 

At your father’s words JJ feels the need to cry once again. He harshly swallows the lump in his throat. He can only bring himself to nod before walking away to his bike in the parking lot. 

As JJ rode home, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he spoke to you. If only he hadn’t let you go. If only he had begged you to stay. But he didn’t. And he has to live with knowing that what happened to you was all his fault. 

_____ 

“JJ, I have to go,” you say with a laugh as the blonde haired boy pulls you back into his chest. 

“Noooo,” he whines. “Just stay with me tonight, please.” He places an arm around your waist and uses his other hand to keep you firm against his chest. 

“You know how my mom gets,” you say with a sigh. You slightly push back on his hand, his grip loosening a bit, and rest your chin on his chest looking up at him. “I promise, tomorrow it’ll be just you and me out on The Pogue. No John B constantly pestering us to keep the PDA to a minimum, no Kie and Pope bickering, and no Sarah constantly bugging us about reapplying sunscreen. Just us.” You give him a quick peck on his chin then move your lips to his. 

JJ immediately reciprocates the action, his lips moving with the familiar rhythm of yours in a kiss that you have both shared a thousand times before. Barely pulling away, JJ mumbles against your lips, “Fine. But promise me you’ll text me when you get home.” He gives you a stern look, one similar to a parent scolding their child. 

“Of course I will.” You knew JJ would be on your ass about it if you didn’t. You unwrap your arms from around his neck and quickly give him one last kiss on his lips. You laugh as he leans forward trying to capture your lips with his once more. You walk backwards towards the front door of the Chateau and blow him a kiss, exaggerating the noise when your palm hits your lips. “I love you!” you say with as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

“And I love you, baby!” JJ responds back with a laugh, pretending to catch your kiss and stuffing it in his pocket. He watches you go, with the biggest smile on his face, wondering how the hell he got so lucky to have someone like you to love him in his life. 

_____

JJ walks into the Chateau like a man on a mission. The longest he’s ever spent away from the hospital since you were admitted was thirty minutes, and he plans to keep it that way. 

“Hey.” JJ hears John B’s voice say the second he pulls the door to the Chateau open. “How is she?” 

JJ sighs, running a hand through his hair. “The same.” He harshly tugs at the roots of his hair. “The doctor said the wounds on her ribs are healing fine and that he’s confident she’ll wake up within the next week or so.” 

“But you think it’s bullshit,” John B responds before taking a sip from his beer. 

“I don’t know what I think anymore man,” JJ says, his voice wavering. “All I know is that I want her to wake up. I just want everything to go back to the way it was.” JJ’s voice breaks towards the end of his sentence, tears openly streaming down his face, unable to keep it all in anymore. He’s been breaking down more and more as each day passed with your absence. 

“JJ-” John B starts. 

JJ doesn’t give him the opportunity to finish. “I need to go shower.” 

_____ 

JJ fell asleep in the guest room waiting for your text when it happened. The first time his phone rang, he ignored it thinking it was spam. The second time it rang, he declined the call without even opening his eyes. The third time it rang, he forced himself to open his eyes, slightly squinting from the brightness of his screen. The second he read the caller id he knew something was wrong. Your mother never called JJ. The only reason why she had his number was to help him plan your surprise birthday party last year. A sick feeling fills his stomach as he answers the phone. 

“Mrs. Y/L/N?” 

“Oh, thank god,” your mother lets out a sigh of relief. “JJ, it’s Y/N.” 

JJ feels his heart rate quicken in fear. “What’s wrong?” he frantically asks. “Is everything alright?” 

He hears your mother let out a choked sob before she responds. “She got into an accident on the way home,” she releases a shaky breath before continuing. “Some drunk idiot was on the road and…” She trails off letting out another sob. “And he hit her head on. When the paramedics got to the scene, Y/N was unconscious. She’s in the ER right now but we haven’t had any news about her condition.” 

JJ can barely process the words coming from your mother’s mouth. It’s as if his body began moving on autopilot as he tells your mom that he’ll be there as soon as he can. As JJ pulls on his boots, he accidentally knocks into the dresser behind him causing various objects that were sitting on top of it to topple off. “Fuck!” JJ lets out in frustration. 

Hearing the ruckus from the other room, John B is awakened from his slumber and stumbles down the hallway and to JJ’s room. “JJ? What the hell is going on? It’s nearly one in the morning,” John B says with a groan, leaning on the doorframe. 

“It’s Y/N, man. Sh-She got into an accident and she’s at the hospital and-shit!” He says as his foot got caught in one of his loose articles of clothing that was scattered on the floor. 

John B is suddenly wide awake when he hears that you’re in the hospital. He swiftly turns around running back to his room and grabs his car keys off his dresser. 

JJ nearly bumps into John B on his way out of his room and questions, “What are you doing?” 

“Coming with you, of course. You know you can’t drive in this state right?” John B knew just how reckless JJ could be and with your life at stake he knew JJ wasn’t in the right headspace to drive. 

JJ just frantically nods, quickly making his way to John B’s van. Sitting in the passenger’s seat as John B makes his way towards the hospital, JJ couldn’t help but wonder if this was all his fault. If only he had driven you home then maybe you wouldn’t be in the hospital right now. Maybe it would’ve been him who got hit head on instead, and you’d be safe on the passenger’s side. If only he had not taken no for an answer then you’d still be here, safe in his arms where you belonged. 

“Dude, she’s going to be ok,” John B says, feeling the anxiety reeking off of JJ in waves. He noticed that JJ hadn’t stopped bobbing his leg up and down ever since he sat down in the car. 

JJ doesn’t say anything. He just stares out the window, hoping that everything’s going to be ok. 

_____

A series of knocks coming from outside the bathroom snaps JJ out of his thoughts. 

“JJ!” he hears John B hollar. “JJ hurry your ass up! She’s awake!” 

JJ shuts off the water, standing rigidly still for a moment. 

“She’s awake,” John B says, slightly softer. “Y/N’s awake.” 

JJ is out of the shower and changed in record time. He steps out of the bathroom with his hair still dripping, droplets of water visible on his dark blue t-shirt. “Damn it!” JJ says, running out of the Chateau, John B hot on his trail. “I said I’d be there. I promised her I’d be there when she woke up!” He slams his hand into the passenger side door of the van.

“Hey!” John B scolds, standing face to face with JJ. “Calm down, man. What matters right now is that she’s awake. Now get in the van.” 

JJ practically throws himself into the passenger’s seat, his heart racing at the thought of seeing you conscious again. To finally see your y/e/c eyes staring into his and to just be in your presence once more…

_____

“Where is she?” JJ shouts, walking into the ER. He sees your mom standing by the front desk with her arms tightly wrapped around herself. “Mrs. Y/L/N,” he says with a quieter tone. 

Your mom looks up from where she was staring at the floor to meet JJ’s stare. She lets out another sob before walking over to him and engulfing him in a hug, squeezing him tight. 

JJ hesitantly reciprocates the hug. When your mother finally pulls away JJ asks again, “Where is she? Is she ok?” 

She swallows down another sob. “She’s with the doctors right now. There’s no news on her current state. Why don’t you come with me to the waiting room? Y/D/N is there waiting for word on her condition,” your mother says putting a hand on JJ’s back and leading him to the waiting room. 

Your father looks up at the sound of the approaching footsteps and gives JJ a slight nod when he walks into the room. 

“Any news?” your mother asks, sitting in the seat next to your father. 

“No, not a word.” 

JJ settles himself a couple chairs down from your parents. He’s not sure if he leaves the space for them or for himself. The silence is deafening, leaving JJ with nothing but his thoughts to run a mile a minute. You were going to be ok, he tried to convince himself. You had to be. His girl was a fighter and you would get through this. JJ rested his elbows on his knees, holding his head in his hands as he held in the tears that threatened to spill. He couldn’t lose you. Not when you were the only thing he loved more than anything in this world. You were his rock, his anchor. You kept him from spiraling out of control. Whenever he found himself acting impulsively, you always crossed his mind. He always tried to think about the consequences and how it would affect you. And though there were times he couldn’t help himself, you were always there to take care of him, to keep him safe, to love him. Without you, everything would fall apart. He would fall apart. 

The sound of two knocks on the waiting room door catches JJ and your parents attention, causing the three of you to stand up. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N?” the doctor says, stepping into the room. 

“That’s us,” your father answers, stepping forward with your mother. 

JJ silently stands to the side, listening to the whole ordeal. 

“I’m Dr. Kavanaugh,” he introduces himself, giving them a hand to shake. He then turns to JJ, with his hand still extended. “And you are?”

“He’s Y/N’s boyfriend,” your mother answers for him. 

“Ah, nice to meet you,” Dr. Kavanaugh replies, still waiting for JJ to shake his hand. 

JJ reluctantly takes his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“So, what’s the news Doc?” your father asks. “Will she be ok?” 

Dr. Kavanaugh looks to your father before giving his reply. “The good news is, her condition is stable. Other than the bruises on her ribs and the cuts on her face, her body’s in good shape.” 

“Oh, thank god,” your mother says as your father wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“So what’s the bad news then?” JJ abruptly asks. He doesn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, he was just tired of the doctor taking his sweet time to tell them what’s wrong. “You said that was the good news, so what’s the bad?” 

Dr. Kavanaugh turns to JJ before letting out a sigh and looking back to your parents. “The bad news is, she’s currently in a comatose state.” He pauses before continuing. “We don’t know how long she’s going to be like that or when she’s going to wake up. The best thing we can do for now is watch over her and look for any signs of complications.”

A coma. The love of his life was in a coma. It felt like the walls were closing in on him as JJ suddenly began hyperventilating. He was lightheaded and unable to comprehend what was going on around him. He pushed his way past your parents and the doctor ignoring their calls for him to come back. He stumbles down the hallway, leaning against the wall for support. The only thing that was running through his head was the thought of you being in a coma. That they didn’t know when you were going to wake up, or if you ever were. JJ feels himself crash into another body and almost falls to the floor, but the person hoists him up by his elbows. 

“Woah, JJ, you good?” John B’s voice sounds like it’s miles away. 

“I think he’s having a panic attack,” another voice says. Female. JJ identifies. The voice is female. 

John B moves JJ to one of the chairs that are lined up in the hallway and steps aside so Kiara can bring JJ back to reality. 

Kiara crouches down in front of JJ, holding onto his knees to keep herself steady. “Hey, JJ, can you hear me?” 

JJ slightly nods, his mouth too dry for him to respond.

“Good,” Kie’s voice soothes. “Now I need you to breathe with me ok? Can you do that?”

JJ nods again, beginning to follow Kiara’s instructions to breathe in and out. 

“That’s it, there you go,” Kiara says. She waits for a moment, letting JJ regain his senses come back to them. “You don’t need to talk now. Just let us know whenever you're ready.” 

JJ blinks a couple of times before finally being able to see clearly again. He sees Kiara crouched in front of him with a reassuring smile while Pope, John B, and Sarah stand behind her with looks of concern on their faces. JJ swallows, before telling them the news. He chokes up as he begins to tell them what happened, starting from when you left the Chateau, to the accident, and finishing at where you are now. 

Pope takes off his hat, putting his hands behind his head as he tilts his head back trying to stop the tears that are threatening to fall. Kiara lets out a small gasp as she starts to cry. Sarah buries her face into John B’s neck, sobs shaking her form. And John B just stares blankly at the wall, trying to stay strong for the rest of them. But JJ doesn’t miss the small tear that escapes from his right eye. 

At the sight of all his friends breaking down in front of him, he begins to break down too, his sobs becoming loud gasps for air. JJ buries his face in his hands and whispers, “It’s all my fault,” over and over again. 

Kiara is the first to move, capturing JJ in a tight hug as the others are close to follow. The five friends hold each other, sobbing for their best friend and the uncertainty that’s to come. 

_____ 

John B dropped JJ off in front of the hospital so he could go in first while he looked for a parking spot. 

JJ walked through the hospital dodging other patients, visitors, and nurses as best as he could as he made his way to your room. He could see Kiara standing outside of your hospital room with a faint smile on her lips. 

The door to your room was open and he could hear your faint voice talking to your parents and the doctor. God, how he missed your voice. JJ makes his way inside the room to see you sitting up and sipping some water out of a straw. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice slightly shaking at the thought of you being awake again. He takes in your appearance thinking you look as beautiful as someone possible could from coming straight out of a coma. There’s a slight tinge of pink on your cheeks that have been pale for the past few days and your hair looks like it’s been groomed, probably by your mother. He takes another tentative step into the room, unable to help the smile that comes across his face. “Y/N,” he states this time. 

“JJ-” your mother starts, but he cuts her off.

JJ’s eyes well up with tears as he makes his way to the foot of your bed. “Thank fuck your ok,” he says with a small laugh getting a look of disapproval from Dr. Kavanaugh. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I know I promised I’d be here but I had to run to John B’s to shower.” He pauses and smiles at you again. “God, I missed you.” A look that JJ can’t decipher crosses over your face. He thought you’d be at least a little more excited to see him. 

You look to the doctor, then to your mom, as she nods and encourages you to speak. “Thank you. That’s so sweet of you to be here but…” you trail off trying to gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry, I don’t quite know who you are.” 

Your mother looks down at her lap, while your father puts a hand on JJ’s shoulder whispering to him, “JJ, come on, I need to speak with you outside.”

JJ shrugs your father’s hand off his shoulder and steps away from him. This had to be some kind of sick joke. “Very funny guys,” JJ says with a dry laugh, turning from your parents, to the doctor and then back to you. “Y/N, if this is your way of getting back at me for all the pranks I used to play on you then it worked. You got me good. Now come on, drop the act.” He desperately looks at you as the look of confusion on your face only grows. 

“JJ,” your father whispers to him again. 

“No,” JJ whispers. “No, this can’t be happening.” 

You push a strand of hair that fell in your face behind your ear before looking at JJ once more. “I’m really sorry,” you say softly. “But should I know you?”

JJ felt a sharp pain in his chest at your words. Those five goddamn words that broke his heart.

taglist: @sunflowerbecca​ @write-from-the-heart​ @5sos-xmalumx​ 

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[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // FIVE

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3!

part one. part two. part three. part four. 

read on till the end for notes! 

((the gif if 100% poe’s face in the cafeteria just read you’ll know what i’m saying)) 

SAWBONES 

FIVE // WRONG CONVERSATION

“I’m gonna tell him.”

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

Jasti looked at you bitterly as she stabbed at...whatever was on her metal tray. The two of you were having lunch, or at least trying to. You rarely visited the base’s cafeteria, opting to just grab your meals and go, but you decided socialization might be good for you. Get your mind off things. And it was good, until Poe and a couple pilots from Red squadron walked in and were now sitting two tables behind you, directly in Jasti’s eye line as she sat across from you.

“Tell who what?” Ziff asked as he sat down next to Jasti, accompanied by another engineer whose name you could not remember.

“Doctor,” he nodded to you, and at your hesitation he supplied his name. “D’an Ralac. Blue squad calls me six, ‘cause uh, I’m Blue Six.”

You nodded back at him, still picking at your own food as Jasti seethed across from you,

“Seriously, tell who what?” Ziff tried again.

“Commander Dameron’s soulmate is a fake,” Jasti aggressively shoved her forkful of food into her mouth. Ziff turned to you, eyebrows raised as Race silently began eating his meal.

“There’s no way, he wouldn’t believe it unless he was absolutely sure.”

“Maybe he’s just stupid,” Jasti muttered and you kicked her shin under the table, earning you another bitter stare.

“I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s not like you’re his actual soulmate, right?” Ziff tried to laugh off his question, but voiced his concern subtly when he looked at Jasti and repeated, “Right?”

Jasti’s glowering caused her to completely miss the tone of Ziff’s voice, and you restrained yourself from kicking at her again. Just because your relationship was officially in the compactor does not mean that hers had to be, too.

“She’s overreacting,” you told him, bringing your water to your lips.

“You’re underreacting,” Jasti replied incredulously. “Are you kidding me?”

Your foot met her shin again on its own accord. “Keep your voice down!” you warned her, though you knew the boisterous laughter coming from Poe and his table made it impossible to overhear their conversation.

“There’s something going on you two aren’t saying,” Six spoke.

“We know who his soulmate is,” Jasti’s voice was finally neutral, though the expression on her face was begging you to come clean to the table. “And it’s not that pilot from Coruscant.”

Ziff, in his surprise, slammed his hands on the table. Hard. “Are you kidding? We have to tell him!”

You winced at the sound which, of course , interrupted the laughing from the table two behind you. The newfound silence that befell the cafeteria, coupled with the widening of Jasti’s eyes made your stomach absolutely flip.

“Blue Two,” you cringed when you heard Poe’s voice behind you, “you alright?”

Ziff’s eyes mirrored Jasti’s. “Uh,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, Commander! Impressed with the kitchen staff on how they prepared the fried prog today!”

You eyed the prongs on your fork, noting the durability and sharpness. If you were to stab the utensil into the side of your neck to hit your carotid, or in one of your intercostal spaces to pierce your lung, which would kill you quicker? If you went lung, you’d be dealing with tension pneumothorax, and ultimately would be waiting for the compression on your heart to lead to cardiac arrest. The whole ordeal would take around half an hour, whereas bleeding out of your carotid would take maybe 10 minutes. If you did either, you hoped FX-7 would take pity and let you wither away.

Ziff gave you a wink at what he thought was a great response and you begrudgingly put your fork down. You spared a glance over your shoulder to peek at Poe.

The table directly behind you was empty, allowing you a clear view of Dameron and his crew. Poe was sitting in your same position, and offered you a slight smirk when the two of you made eye contact. You hid your scowl by turning around.

“Y’should give your compliments back there,” Dameron said. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it.”

Ziff nodded immediately. “Yes, Commander.” Maybe you’d stick the fork in his lung.

After a beat of time, Poe’s table returned to their previous conversations and Jasti turned to Ziff. You watched as she flexed her right fist, and you weren’t sure if it was to restrain her arm from jutting her elbow into his side or something else. You hadn’t had time to think about it before she was once again giving you a pleading expression.

You returned a flat look, blinking at her. She took it as reluctant acceptance.

“Y’know how Doc here can see her string, right?” Jasti began, her voice lowered. Six obviously didn’t, but he nodded anyway just to be included. She paused, looking at Ziff pointedly.

He nodded at her again, still maintaining eye contact. “Yes, I was present for that conversation. And?”

Jasti gave him the same blank look until the table could hear the gears in his head finally turn. You were pretty sure that Six had understood right away, judging by the way his lips pursed as he slowly let out the breath he was holding.

“You’re fucking kidding!”

Jasti laughed as she lightly bumped her elbow into Ziff’s side. “That’s what I said!”

You resumed poking at your tray. Unlike Ziff, you were not impressed by the fried porg.

“How long have you known?” He asked.

“Since the day I met you two in the med bay,” you murmured. It sounded way worse when you said it aloud.

“Doc, that’s been weeks. You’ve kept this from Commander Dameron?”

You nodded. “I didn’t think he’d believe me, and I was waiting for the right time. But it never came, and when it almost did I work-zoned him. And then he went and left for stupid Coruscant and met that stupid pilot that I have to do stupid paperwork on. They sent over her file this morning, and I looked at her measurements. I’m a little pissed.”

The table let you rant, this was the most you’d probably talked in one beat and they didn’t want to interrupt. They knew you needed to get it all out.

“So yeah, I fucked up,” you admitted. “And it’s way too late to do anything about it, because the damage has been done and I just need to get over it.”

You heard someone let out a low whistle from behind you and the hairs on your arms stood on end.

“That’s not very Doctor-like of you,” Poe said as he came up behind you and stood at the edge of your table. You reluctantly looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re supposed to fix damage, not cause it, right?”

The taunt was harmless, playful even. But since Poe had been boasting non-stop about his soulmate, and the fact that she’d be here within the coming days left you angry and raw. You felt like an exposed nerve, every touch and breath felt like an assault on your entire being. You’d kept your interactions with Poe at an absolute minimum, keeping him at arm's length. If you felt callow and bare now, imagine how hard it was to restrain it when he was talking to you about her.

“We all make mistakes. Surely you know that, don’t you Dameron?”

He narrowed his eyes, the faint upturn of his lips turning sour. You hated when he looked at you like that, with contempt. Like the thought of you left a bad taste in his mouth. He should be looking at you like he probably looks at her, laughing with you like he did with his table, touching you and putting his fingers in your mouth like he had in your dream.

Dream, you repeat to yourself firmly. You’d be lying if you said that dream wasn’t the only reason you were able to fall asleep most nights.

But this look that he was giving you right now was something that you deserved. Why would he treat you any different, treat you like his soulmate when he didn’t fucking know? He was too busy deluding himself  that his soulmate was on Coruscant, counting the days until she was to arrive on D’Qar when in all actuality it was you, the woman sitting at this stupid metal table berating him, that was his soulmate.

“Maybe I need to come into the medbay for a check up,” he scratched at the scruff on his chin that you definitely had not fixated on these past couple days, “I must need to get a brain scan done since you’re so concerned with these helpful reminders.”

“Door’s always open,” you said with a sweet smile. The two of you held each other’s gaze for another few moments before Poe finally broke it with an eye roll. He nodded at the rest of your table.

“Have a good rest of your lunch, if you can,” Poe withheld his side glance back to you, “Glad you like the porg, Blue Two.”

With that, Poe was finally the one fleeing.

“Stars, you didn’t need to be a bitch to him!” Jasti kicked your shin this time. “Could you dig the hole you’re in any deeper?”

“Probably,” you offered. Jasti let out a groan as she rested her head on her arms on the table. Ziff and Six looked at you, puzzled.

“Don’t know why you did all that,” Six started. “Why further the animosity? Are you hoping for the thread to snap?”

You turned your attention to the green-tinged man to your right. “Can it do that?”

He shrugged, taking a small sip of his blue milk. “I’ve heard rumors, basically myths about it. If a soulmate dies, or gives up on the search, the thread will break. I don’t know if it can by the sheer power of will. You’re on your way to finding out, though.”

You frowned. “I don’t know what I want.”

Jasti threw her crumpled up napkin at your forehead. “You want him! Soulmate or not, that little squabble had some tension of the sexual kind to it.”

“Poe has sexual tension with everything,” you rolled your eyes. “The man reeks of it.” Ziff nodded in agreement and you gave him a weird look. It made you wonder what life looked like under Poe’s command. Especially for someone like Ziff. Six had also mirrored your expression, which made you feel a little bit better. Or worse. You really didn’t know.

Ziff was smart, talented and you were pretty sure he put all of that into being a pilot. He was tall, broad and his sandy blonde hair made many of the women on the base turn their heads. However, he only had eyes for his x-wing. That was, until a few weeks ago when he and Jasti had been side by side in your medbay. Now, Ziff had eyes for Jasti and his x-wing.

“I think you should just tell him,” Six shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t believe you?”

“Yes?” you said. “And he humiliates me, discredits my position and authority across the base. How is anyone going to come into my medbay and not look at me like I was another poor girl who made up the soulmate thread to bed Dameron?”

“But you didn’t make it up,” Ziff frowned. “It’s true.”

“How am I supposed to prove that?”

The table fell silent, Jasti Ziff and Six all deep in thought. You gave them a minute, but your patience was wearing thin. You’d been out of the medbay for too long, and FX-7 was sure to let you know that as soon as you got back.

“Thanks guys, but I really can’t do this right now,” you offered them a weak smile. You grabbed your tray as you got up from the table. Jasti opened her mouth to stop you, but fell silent. You dumped your food and placed the tray on the conveyor.

✗ ✗ ✗

As per usual, you were back in your office sorting through the mountains of files on your holopad. Specifically, you were sorting through files for the new incoming pilots from Coruscant. Five, to be exact. Physiologically speaking, they were all perfect. Maybe you’d get lucky when they got here and you’d have to ground one or two for high blood pressure or a heart murmur. You found yourself constantly going back to one file, though. Of the five, two were female. Yet one was human and the other Togruta. You’d heard a tale of one of Poe’s many escapades involving a Togruta woman that had not ended well, so you decided on the human.

Scoria Tane.

Fuck, even her name was pretty. You honestly were dreading her arrival in the coming days. Coruscant had been vague, giving the generals a time frame of arrival for the pilots. D’Qar and Coruscant did have different orbital periods and hours in the day, so you understood why you didn’t know an exact date. It added to your anxiety nonetheless.

In spare moments of time, you found yourself lapsing back to her tab. No photo, just the basic demographics. Although your mind wanted to inch there, you refused to compare her measurements to your own. A dangerous place, that was. A place you didn’t, couldn’t enter.

“Strange to find you here,” soft footsteps preceded the voice. “Do you usually linger here for long periods of time?”

“You’re very funny,” you lifted your head, hoping Leia wouldn’t notice you move Scoria Tane’s file off your screen. The voice in your head said her name like a slur.

“Someone has to be,” she smiled at you, lowering herself into one of the seats across from your desk. “It’s so...tense here. And I think to myself, tense ? In my resistance base?”

“Blasphemy, I agree,” you couldn’t repress your wide smile.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why it’s tense around here, would you, Doctor?”

“I’m afraid not,” you answered honestly. “Pilots haven’t been out in awhile. I’m sure they’re just antsy.”

“You say pilots, as in plural,” Leia raised an eyebrow. You furrowed yours.

“Yes?”

“You’re the funny one now. I happen to think it’s just because of one pilot in particular.”

You powered down your holopad as you placed it back in your drawer. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

Leia gazed at the wall, a soft smile on her face as though she were gazing out a window. Yet, nearly the entire Resistance base on D’Qar was underground so windows were not an option. You liked to assume that’s why they built your medbay so white and...bright. Create an atmosphere of pseudo-sunlight. She continued to gaze for a few more seconds until she returned her attention back to you.

“Your right hand, has it been bothering you, lately?”

“Occasionally,” you admitted. There was no use in hiding anything from Leia.

“I understand why you’ve kept it from him,” she folded her hands in her lap, “but what has it cost you?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, releasing a deep breath that felt like you’d been holding for days. Leia had opened the floodgates, uncorked the bottle that you’d been stuffing this whole situation into. You felt the air of the room sting your eyes, or was it something else? Ignoring it, you pulled at your right pinky finger on top of your desk.

“Peace of mind,” you answered, then laughed. “My sleep.”

“He was so close to figuring it out,” Leia frowned. “I gave him a push, figured that would be all he would need. I should’ve known better - men almost always need you to spell it out for them.”

“Do you think I’m too late?”

Leia shook her head. “No, but you’ve certainly created yourself quite the challenge.”

Leia was right, reiterating what your friends had told you previously. Not only was it a feat in and of itself just to talk to Poe, but to change his mind? Especially about her, about Scoria Tane? To convince him that he’d been wrong - again? And that your callous words and strained relationship that you’d created with him was only because you were scared, and insecure.

As if she could hear them, Leia interrupted your thoughts.

“He’s more sensible than you think.”

“Respectfully,” you began, “have you been in the same room as the two of us? The way Poe interprets my words and opinions would not justify him as sensible.”

Leia rolled her eyes. “That’s because the two of you are always having the wrong conversation.”

“And what’s the right one?” you pressed.

“You think I would tell you?” Leia smirked at you as she stood. “That would be too easy. You have a couple seconds to figure it out though.”

As soon as you processed her words, Poe was entering your office, the whoosh of the double doors preceding his entrance. His stupid beautiful teeth shone under the fluorescent bulbs when he saw Leia. He regarded her warmly after she winked at you and made her leave.

As much as you repressed, you couldn’t ignore how fucking good Poe looked in his casual clothes. He looked good in anything - but today was just...too much. He was wearing his usual dark pants, loose enough to be comfortable and to move in, but still tight on his ass. He must’ve changed after eating, because the faded baby blue button up he wore with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows was a shirt you hadn’t seen, or at least noticed before. With the way the lightness of his shirt juxtaposed the black of his hair, his stubble, his eyes - you were sure it was new. There’s no way you would’ve missed it before. However, the subtle, almost pleasant softness that befell his features was something you did almost miss, though.

“Hey, Doc,” Poe sat down. You didn’t respond - not verbally, anyway. Your breath was caught in your throat as your eyes focused on the small, gold chain that hung around his neck and low on his chest. Your eyes traced the way it arched over the curve of his collarbones and disappeared past the neckline of his shirt. Poe cleared his throat again and your eyes left his chest to meet his eyes.

“Here for your scan?” you asked nonchalantly as you pulled your holopad back out of the drawer, giving yourself something to fidget with.

He shook his head. “Just wanted to know how the new recruits are looking.”

“All of them, or just one in particular?” you arched one of your eyebrows, your finger hovering over her tab.

He smiled, shrugging. It made you simultaneously want to gag and rip your clothes off. The buttoned collar of your medjacket felt like it was constricting on your airways as you swallowed thickly.

“Can I ask you a question, Dameron?” you gripped the holopad tightly. At your sudden seriousness, Poe rectified his posture and nodded.

“How did you,” you wanted to stab yourself, “How did you know? That it was her?”

You braced yourself, expecting him to lash at you, tell you it was none of your business. But when he didn’t, when he licked his lips slowly as he pondered his answer, it made you wish he would’ve. His response wasn’t one you wanted to hear, but you needed to know his reasoning.

“I can’t see my thread, but in these last few weeks, my finger has been throbbing. I can only imagine it’s tied there,” he rubbed at his left hand and you watched as his movements vibrated the string, causing yours to ache in turn. The thread was taught in the small distance between you, almost daring you to try and cut it.

“So, I just knew whomever it was, they were close. And when I went to Coruscant, and she told me we were connected, I just knew.”

The weight on your chest felt like your ribs were cracking, heart straining to pump your blood that felt like it had congealed in your veins.

“What if,” you tested your voice. “What if it isn’t her?”

“Wow,” Poe scoffed. “You’ve only read her file, you think that gives you a right to pass judgement?”

“No!” you cut him off. “I’m just offering another point of view. Like I always do. I’ve heard the stories, Dameron. I just think you should be carefull.”

Poe rubbed at his hand again. “Do you know how it feels, Doc? To search the whole galaxy, trying to find them? Only to fall short countless times?”

You shook your head. Of course you didn’t. You’d spent almost the entirety of your life on only three planets, and really hadn’t felt the desire to branch out to anymore. With the First Order gaining traction, it’s threat of another galactic war looming, you placed your work first. You always did.

“Can you even see your thread?”

You didn’t respond, eyes holding his as you saw your vision blur. You willed the tears away - not here, not now.

It was evident Poe was waiting for your response, so you swallowed before answering.

“Yes.”

“And you’ve never been curious to know who was on the other end? Never wanted to go out and find them?”

“It’s complicated,” you answered, eyes falling on his finger. The knot on his finger was mocking, almost taunting you.

“How is it complicated?” Poe asked. “You either want them or you don’t.”

“I do,” you said through your teeth. “But it’s not that easy, Dameron. You have no idea.”

He leaned towards you, hands on his knees. The length of your thread shortened, and momentarily you wondered what it looked like if the distance was closed.

“So help me understand,” Poe pleaded. “I just,” he stopped. Stewing on his words before he opened his mouth again. “I don’t get you. At all. You’re so hot and cold - mostly cold. We get along, and then we’re at each other's necks. I’m getting tired of this game, Doc. Aren’t you?”

He would make it so easy, you thought. It would be so easy to fall in love with him. You did want it, more than you’ve wanted anything in your life. To walk side by side with him amongst the halls of the base, kiss him before and after flight missions, actually go back to your quarters at night and know that he was there. Stars, you wanted nothing more than to have Poe Dameron in your bed, waiting on you. You wondered if he ever entertained the thought of you two together, maybe as soulmates or maybe not. Has Poe ever wanted you like you wanted him in this moment?

The thought scared you, the possibility that he hadn’t kept you silent. He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he sighed. Poe stood up, looking at you dejectedly.

“I am tired - “ you began quickly, not wanting him to leave. He paused, waiting to hear you out before the base rumbled with the force and scream of aircrafts entering the atmosphere.

Poe’s face lit up.

“We can make up later,” he smiled. “She’s here.”

- 

and the plot thickens. i hope you enjoyed - how excited are we to meet these new pilots?? as always, love & feedback is appreciated and encouraged. xoxoxo. also, ziff = himbo. i do not makes the rules. but we love him. 

TAGLIST (send a message / ask to be added!) 

@yayrainday​ @samhollandssweaters​ @softly-sad​ @rebelgeneraldameron​ @btillys​ @daydreamerinadazedworld​ @teaofpeach​ @iamthe-shadow-on-the-wall​ @fandom-addict-aesthetics​ @peterwandaparker​ @bookaholicinwonderland​ @roserrys @clydesducktape​ @heythere-mel​ @justrunamok​ @corrupt-fvcker​ @lets-do-get-help​

(please please send an ask or message to be added! it’s getting a little hard to check every chapter’s replies so i dont miss anyone! & if i did miss you, i’m so sorry please lmk). 

[copias-thrall]

Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his  casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

[tundrainafrica]

Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (15/17)

Summary: “Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn’t exist. Everything is a choice.” And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him.“

Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn’t.

Note: Feedback is very much appreciated!

Link: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

“Belated happy birthday.” That first greeting was underwhelming in the deafening silence.

The room had been strangely quiet and it had been that way since he first entered, a far cry from the air during their past sessions. Shela should have waved one hand as he closed the door behind him. Even before he got to the seat, she should have been throwing multiple questions in succession.

What else did you get written?

Anything happening in school?

How’s Hange?

Oddly enough, Shela had only followed him with her eyes as he entered the room. The silence had felt like something pounding in his ears and her gaze had become something worth trifling his own consciousness with.

To top it all off, it had ended so anticlimactically with one greeting that Levi was left utterly confused as he sat on the chair in front of her.

What do you want her to do? Levi found himself asking silently as he matched Shela’s stare with his own.

Her blue eyes though were still warm, her eyes wide with what could have been curiosity. Levi started to suspect that it had all been a figment of his imagination that only a while ago they were watching and observing. Even as he settled on his seat, he sensed there were still questions up in the air that Levi could have grasped if he reached hard enough.

“Is that why you called me here? A free birthday session?” Levi asked.

“I just thought it was a good first greeting.” Shela’s voice was casual, innocent, and almost annoying.

Something wanted to burst out from inside him. That excuse of a greeting had only done the bare minimum to help it. In fact, it had done worse. It poked at him, whispering to him to figure out for himself what the hell that something was..

He was in no mood for a guessing game though. And he hadn’t been for the past few weeks. “Then why did you call me?” He asked. It had been a tall order to match her gaze, to come up with the right answers to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.

Shela shrugged. “I just wanted to check on my favorite patient.”

“I haven’t been your patient in a while.”

“We had scheduled sessions. You just didn’t go to them.”

“I was busy…. Besides, don’t you have anything better to do than chase one patient?”

Shela raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you have anything better to do than to come here? You had a choice to answer that message and believe me, you’re free to leave if you want to Levi.” She gestured her hands towards the door in one long exaggerated movement.

One movement that only served to sink Levi deeper into the sofa chair. In those few seconds as Levi leaned back, he saw once again the gradual shift in her gaze from something innocent to something cold and observing, and it was as if she was studying some sort of a specimen. And he was the specimen.

He was certain that was the exact same gaze he felt as he went through the door. But it wasn’t at all unfamiliar. Those had been the eyes she gave after all when she had asked the precise questions that broke the icebergs inside him into chunks instead of winnowing through the hard surface.

Why did that gaze in particular have him tense up at that exact moment? Levi didn’t have to wait too long for an answer though.

“You haven't written in a while,” she said.

“I deleted it.”

Shela didn’t look too surprised though. “Why?” She asked.

“It just seemed like a useless thing to do.”

“Why would you say it was useless?

“I was wasting a lot of time with it.” “So you did continue writing after our last meeting.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Just a guess… You only deleted the file a few weeks ago so it must mean you were thinking about it.”

Levi’s eyes widened and soon, he was starting to rack his brain for an explanation. “I don’t remember sharing you the file…”

“Hange told me what happened.”

“So you asked her about me?”

Shela shook her head. “No Levi, she approached me. She was worried about you.”

Hange. Levi found himself taking a glance at his phone in the silence that followed, the third message from the top of his inbox. Last touched weeks before.

He had decided to spend the holidays and his birthday back home. He liked to tell himself that he had only done that because with his hectic student-athlete schedule the past few years, he never had the chance to spend more than three days worth of holidays back home. When at home though, all he had done was lock himself in his bedroom for days on end.

Levi couldn’t convince himself for long. He had only gone home to avoid Hange, to avoid any reminder of the past few months and to avoid the almost nagging regret at having deleted the file.

With the file gone, he had felt like something was missing, painfully missing.

“And I’m concerned about what’s going on between you two,” Shela said.

“You’re paid to be concerned.”

“Oh? So you think I only became a therapist to get paid? Believe me Levi if I didn’t care I wouldn’t have called you here today. I could have gotten another patient and have been paid this extra hour.”

“Then why are you here? Why did you ask me to come here?” Levi felt stinging behind his eyes and a knot in his throat as he spoke up. A part of him actually contemplated leaving at that moment, yet it had been brushed away so quickly by something else, an odd feeling of desperation. He wanted something from her. Hell, he wanted something but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was.

“I told you, I was worried and I wanted to make sense of this with you,” Shela answered. The answer had been underwhelming to say the least especially with the way she narrowed her eyes at him.

And if Levi hadn’t been so desperate for any sort of closure, for that particular reaction he so looked for, maybe he would have just stood up and left.

Shela wasn’t done though. “Are those memories trapping you?”

Memories? Since when had it been about memories? “What memories?”

“Memories of Commander Hange. Captain Levi,” she said confidently, as if they were her memories to begin with. She spoke in such a way that she could have even been talking about real people. Very real people.

Such confidence, such forcefulness and her attempt to shoehorn all that into his reality sent a sudden sting through his chest. If Commander Hange was real, that meant she really died, that meant she really burned alive up there in the sky.

Levi would have preferred that image to have just been a figment of his imagination. “They’re stories.”

“Yet for a while you wanted to believe they were memories right? So what happened in between Levi? What did I miss?”

“I realized… They weren’t real…”

Shela let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re still trying to deny it huh? You’ve always been difficult to crack…” She cleared her throat. “So, Hange told me, the commander died. Then you deleted the file and now you don’t wanna talk about it right?”

Levi didn’t reply.

Shela continued to speak, seeming unfazed. “Here is something I noticed about you. When you injured your knee, your first instinct had been to insist you’re okay then soon you shut up and find something else to cling to--- writing. When writing started to hurt, suddenly you decide to delete the document then tell me everything’s fine. What are you gonna do now? You’re gonna find a new hobby?”

Academics, jumping. He thought to himself. Levi had spent the past few days isolated in his room back home, finishing his own thesis and following the jumping tournaments of his own teammates. As if there was much else to do anyway.

Shela rested her chin on her hands and stared straight ahead. Her eyes seemed to focus on something behind him, as if the answers were found beyond the wide window behind him. “I started to think to myself… Why did Hange’s death of all things hurt you enough to cause that same grief? I read your story, you could have mourned Erwin’s death, you could have mourned your Petra's death, mourned Isabel or Farlan’s death. Why Hange’s? Why did she push you to the edge enough to delete the file?”

“It built up,” Levi answered. That was the most natural explanation right? Or at least the most natural he could think of.

Shela nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “Let’s move on to the next question then. Do you think that Hange’s death was any special? If there was something that made it the tipping point in the first place?”

“Can’t a tipping point be something small?”

Shela shook her head. “Tipping points can be small I agree but remember, when you told me you weren’t going to write anymore? It was as if you knew what would be happening next. You looked terrified.”

Somewhere along the way, the remnants of Shela’s gentle facade had completely fallen, replaced by something stone cold, yet confident and almost mocking. Levi was starting to get a little more irritated at such assumptions. Regardless of whether they were true or not.

“So tell me Levi, what makes Hange so special? What made Captain Levi so hesitant to write the next part? Then what made this Levi here want to delete it soon after writing it?”

Levi only had to look behind him, at the sky just outside the window to articulate it for himself. It was surprisingly easy to grasp. It was a simple feeling after all that never left. “It hurt,” he admitted. He could have said more but he had found himself at a loss for words a second later as he imagined the rumbling before him and that one silhouette that disappeared into the blue.

“And if you’re that invested in Hange’s death. I’m sure Erwin’s death, your special squad’s death, should have hurt as much right?”

“They hurt too,” Levi added. He started to become a little more aware of himself. They hurt too but as much as Hange’s death? Not enough for sure to even have him consider deleting the file.

“Then why didn’t you delete the file if they hurt? From what I could tell Captain Levi was inseparable from Erwin.”

Levi let his eyes fall to the empty coffee table in front of him, searching for something worth a distraction among the pockmarks of the wood. Shela’s eyes were getting sharper by the second.

“I’ll ease you into my theory slowly and feel free to tell me if I’m wrong...you and Hange were inseparable right?”

Captain Levi and squad leader Hange Zoe. They were from different teams but they did hang out a lot together. With that quick recall, Levi nodded.

“And you lost a lot of people in your life… So I started to wonder, if Captain Levi spent so much time keeping his distance, being aloof, completely aware that the everyone could end up dead, why did he cling to Hange?”

“Captain Levi cared about a lot of people.”

“I wasn’t denying that Levi. I was asking you, why did he cling to Hange? Why were they inseparable? Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? All three at once?”

The last three words had been things Levi found himself musing over as she continued to talk. But then, he couldn’t figure out for himself the answer. “We couldn’t fall in love. There was a war.” Those words had come out on their own. He only realized seconds later that it didn't answer the question.

Shela gave him a cat-like grin. “We? Huh?”

Levi cleared his throat. “They---,” he corrected.

“Okay, you’re beating around the bush a little too much. I’ll tell you my theory and if you don’t make the effort to figure it out for yourself, this will be my assumption. You didn't think she’d die. You didn’t expect her to die so you took her for granted. Am I wrong, Captain Levi?”

“Took her for granted…” Levi almost spat out those words as he said it. “You can’t just assume that…”

“By take for granted, I meant ‘I can get past pain, death, loss, as long as she’s there’ and for what? You just assumed she was immortal didn’t you? That she couldn't die, since she's always been there. And so the moment she died, suddenly grief hit you like a bus.” She straightened herself up on the seat. “Maybe you thought you would have died first?” Shela pressed.

“I was dying in the woods. I thought she’d be the one to survive the whole time.”

“But you know, it’s not uncommon for people to be this way. To have this person there and just assume that person's immortal, or to think ‘as long as this person is here’ I’ll be okay. It’s only natural that humans find hope in the living. For example,a lot of parents do that too with their own kids and that’s why parents losing their kids are one of the most devastating cases of grief I’ve encountered…” She trailed off. “But I digress, There’s one question about you I’ve been exploring for a while and I’ve always wanted to ask. You might not know the answer yourself but it’s worth a try.” Shela paused and looked at him expectantly.

Even when he sat on her chair, frozen by her cold stare, he still managed to force a nod.

“Why do you remember? Why is Captain Levi forcing his own memories to live on? Unless he had some unresolved feelings right?”

Attraction? Mutual Support? Love? You took her for granted.

Even when moving, Levi let those words, those suggestions run free in his mind. The feeling, the ache in his chest, the weight on his shoulders and the knot at his throat that only evolved into some tremble in his lips. It was everything at once, Levi was sure.

Maybe, I took her for granted. Maybe I should have stopped her. Levi thought to himself. But he wasn’t going to say it out loud yet.

“And something tells me you don’t regret much Captain Levi Ackerman,” Shela said. The gentleness in her face was back. “But maybe if you allowed yourself to regret back then, maybe all these feelings of regret, grief… They wouldn’t have bundled up now, you wouldn’t be hurting like this. You didn't let yourself experience grief and loss… You didn’t let yourself regret even in your deathbed. Now, everything just comes pouring out in your next life because you just let it build up inside you?” She had phrased it as a question but as Shela enunciated those words, Levi couldn’t help but see deep thought in them, as if she had discerned and answered the question for herself already.

“How can you assume that?” Levi challenged. It was a weak attempt, at that point he was starting to get more and more convinced. It had just been a matter of reality pulling him away from an almost ethereal concept.

Soon, he did grasp it, the thing he had been looking for, that one feeling he had been desiring since the start of the conversation.

It manifested first as a knowing smile. And before Levi could respond, grip on to some decent comeback to her long winded tirade, he found himself hesitating, focusing instead on how his shoulders dropped and how the wind was knocked out of himself slowly and the quick movement as he shifted his weight to his hands pressed on the sofa.

“I’m not assuming how you feel. I’m laying out some information, coming up with a theory and leaving it in the air for you to decide whether it’s true or not.” She didn’t continue from there. Instead she dropped her clipboard on the table and walked towards one of the bookshelves, pulling out a blue binder.

“What if it's too detailed to pass up as a reasonable theory?” Levi managed to say. He found himself counting the lines on the wooden table in front of him. In a daze, he had been too distracted to reorganize for himself, Shela’s theory. And he started to even doubt his own ability to respond.

“I’ve been seeing other patients, I think I’ve encountered enough to make some fair guesses. Besides, I told you I’ve been studying reincarnation for a while.” She dropped the blue binder in front of him on the table. “But you still think it’s too detailed to be believable huh? What if I told you I experienced it too? That's why I know the details."

Levi could only stare at the blue binder. He only got so far as to hover his hand over it before he hesitated. He looked up at her, following her as she sat back on the chair in front of him.

“What are you waiting for?” She asked.

“Should I open this?”

“I wouldn’t have put it there if I didn’t want you to read it Levi,” She was looking at him expectantly as if she was excited for him to see what was inside.

Levi started to wonder why he even hesitated. Regardless, he still went at it slowly. The plastic cover on the binder was warm to the touch and for a second or so, he allowed himself to pinch at it, see where the plastic would give into the pressure.

Maybe he had been on that for a second longer than he should have. He was still hesitating. He was still nervous.

“What are you scared of? It’s a binder,” Shela said.

“What’s inside?”

“It’s my research on reincarnation.”

“For your PhD?”

Shela paused for a second before answering. “I created two pieces of writing for my PhD, something stomachable by the scientific body and something just for myself,” Shela explained. “Because I honestly don’t think anyone would have believed it either if I was telling them I was seeing very clear visions of a past life.”

Do you really believe these were memories from a past life? Levi muttered. For a second, he had wondered if he had said it loud enough for her to hear. But when he opened the binder, he quickly realized he didn’t need an answer.

The title of the work was generic, easily forgettable. But the subtitle underneath and the author’s name spoke to him in ways Levi couldn’t fully comprehend just yet. Comprehension came quickly after running his eyes over the title then the subtitle underneath

He read her name out loud. Her first name settled at the back of his mouth and he couldn’t be too sure if he had pronounced it correctly. But when he said it a second time, the name rolled off his tongue too easily, as if it was all too familiar. His mind had just taken a split second longer to process it.

From my past life? Levi thought to himself. At that point, he couldn’t be too sure. It had seemed like too distant of a memory. He never had to use her name with her after all. He only remembered her having taught him to pronounce it eons ago.

Her last name next to it was all too familiar, yet surprising. And Levi had little to no problem, saying it for himself, even when still recovering from that small bout of surprise.

“Ackerman’s my maiden name,” she explained. “And I’m sure you saw it already, my first name is a little old fashioned.” She didn’t seem so self conscious though, as if she was aware that many lives ago, she had been teaching him to say it back when it had been just the both of them in the underground city.

Levi said her whole name out loud again. As soon as he looked back up at her, putting name to face, he found himself transported back to that small room, running his hand over her curly black hair and locking gazes with those piercing cold blue eyes. Then, they were his only source of comfort, his sanctuary.

And he never did figure out if he said it right back then in the underground city. Just to make sure though, he read it aloud in front of her again, willing himself to say it clearly and firmly.

“Written by: Kuchel Ackerman.”

***

Bookends. That’s how it seemed at least. Levi had two pages written out by that night.

He had his earliest childhood memories up there, everything as visceral as possible from the sights, to the scents, to her touch. With not too much context though, his earliest memories stuck to him as comforting sensations more than anything. Within an hour of writing, he gave up and concluded that he never did remember much of it.

Right under those early childhood sensations, articulated to the best of his capabilities, were memories after Kuchel’s death, training to fight in the underground. Then, written below that were narrations on life after the war, his remaining years on a wheelchair, travelling around Marley, joining the peace ambassadors on occasional trips.

There was no transition between them, nothing more glaring than paragraph breaks.

They were two sections with little to no connection to each other. But Levi at least knew for himself, that in-between would have been those long winded narrations on his life in the survey corps and his life during the war against Marley.

For some reason, he wasn’t too bothered about the missing parts though. As if he had already accepted for himself that he made the decision to delete it.

Finishing what he started. That’s what it felt like and that’s all there was to it. Reading Shela’s own work after all had him somehow accepting that they were memories more than dreams.

Something that had to be immortalized somewhere/ The acceptance though that the grief, the loss and the pain were memories not dreams was slow going. The dreams had been painful, realizing they were someone’s reality, only aggravated it.

Kuchel’s words echoed in his head. The last questions she said before they separated that day. Back then, she had escorted him to the door of her office and they had stood there for a few minutes before parting ways.

Can you let it go?

I don’t even know what I’m trying to let go of. For all he knew, something died in him back in that day in Odiha. Consequently, there were emotions he couldn’t even access, as if part of life had ended for him in that single moment.

You can’t access or comprehend those emotions because you didn’t let yourself feel it. You didn't ride through it.

And she had pointed it out then. Captain Levi had never been the most emotional person because he had never allowed himself to feel.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret. And when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go. I know you will.

Opening the laptop wasn’t easy. Staring at the blank document sheet and deciding for himself the first words to say took ages longer than what he would have liked.

As soon as he had decided for himself that he was going to write though, everything came out so seamlessly. He only had to hover his hands over the keyboard, feel for the right keys, for them to start moving on their own. It turned out writing with little regard for grammar and punctuation or for unwelcome emotional reactions, was oddly liberating.

He had started off with bullet points but soon enough the sentences were too long and the bullet points were rendered useless. Eventually, he scrapped the bullet points altogether.

“There was a peace treaty,” Levi said aloud as he typed it out. “Armin and the others, they became peace ambassadors…”

“And Mikasa…” Levi trailed off as he remembered. She was back in Paradis, back in their old town of Shiganshina where Eren’s head was laid to rest. He thought back to Mikasa and for a second he almost felt guilty for even questioning her decision to stay with Eren. “If this was how it felt for you, I wouldn’t be surprised why you’d be hesitant to leave him,” Levi said, he leaned back on his chair, stretched out his good leg and stared blankly at the ceiling above him.

The pain was similar, he was sure. He had seen flashes of visiting an empty grave as he wrote. The white ceiling above him and the contrast it provided made those dark memories all the more vivid.

The face he had been longing to see though, as he stared at the grave then, was just a phone call away. And before he even noticed it himself, he had reached for the phone next to his laptop, turning it screen up.

He had no one else to call so her number and their message thread was still one of the first on his inbox. Even if he hadn’t opened it in weeks.

Of course, it would. Hange had sent messages multiple times the past few weeks..

December 23 8:15 AM

I heard you went home.

December 25 12:01 AM

Happy Birthday! :D

January 1 12:00 AM

Happy New Year! Wishing you a bright new year and a speedy recovery

January 3 6:21 AM

Wanna talk when you get back?

January 5 2:23 AM

Hey, I’m sorry about everything. I should have been more sensitive to your needs. Even if you don’t wanna meet after this, it’s fine. I had a great time working with you and I’ll remember these past few months :D. I’m just sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.

Just assure me please. Did you get to talk to someone? I hope you did. I was just concerned. But it doesn’t matter too much now. As long as you’re okay.

Levi didn’t scroll up past those last few messages. The rest had been paragraphs worth of apologies even he didn’t want to ponder.

Besides, there were more important things to him then, like finding the right words to say as a response to that latest message.

He sensed closure there. Yet, he wasn’t ready for closure. His mind was scrambling for some way to reopen the conversation then.

It was late at night though. Levi was exhausted and impatient. He was sure if he sent something and slept it off, he should wake up to a message the next morning.

So the message he sent then had been automatic, typical. It didn’t require too much thought to compose.

January 9 11:17 PM

Hey, when are you free to talk?

He decided then, he could leave it to his future self to come up with another response in the morning.

***

Levi’s sleep was light, light enough that the quick ping of his phone was more than enough to wake him up. He was awake enough to reach for his phone on the side table, pull it under the blankets with him and open his messaging application.

It wasn’t Hange who had messaged.

“Coach?” Levi muttered as he sat up in bed.

Sorry if this is pretty last minute. Mikasa agreed to meet at the track today this afternoon around 3-3:30. You think you could make it?

Levi typed a short text accepting the invite and sent it out.

He pulled at the curtains of his window. The sun was out already. He stared back at his phone at the upper right of the screen.

9:23 AM.

He was oddly disappointed. Other plans meant he didn’t have to think about the ignored message at the top of his inbox. He had sent the message at eleven last night. It had been almost twelve hours since then.

Was she taking a really long slumber? Or was she just ignoring him?

Nothing much to do until three so Levi opened his laptop and worked on his own thesis. Working on something as utterly boring and monotonous as a school requirement though didn’t make time run faster.

Levi was sure he had gone through at least fifty articles of doping cases among professional athletes. When he looked back at the clock though, he saw only two hours had passed.

He ordered lunch. Time went notably faster when he was just scrolling through his social media, yet excruciatingly slower still than what he was used to. And the main culprit? Hange’s online status and her activity on social media.

Hange was still liking photos which meant one thing: She was ignoring messages.

He went down to pick up his delivery from the dorm lobby and on the way up, he took a detour. All the way to Hange’s room on the other side of the building, a five minute walk for most people. For Levi it could have been ten minutes or it could have been ages. He still had that awkward gait which made the journey all the more frustrating.

The hallways were quiet but it wasn’t unexpected. School didn’t start for another two weeks. Hange’s room was along the quiet hallway and Hange had always been loud. So the stark contrast had been unsettling to say the least.

What do you expect her to do? Run down the halls screaming your name? He thought to himself. For some reason, that was what he was expecting and that was what he would’ve liked.

He took advantage of that silence. He padded lightly through the hallway, attempting to segregate the sounds of the creak of the floorboard with whatever he sounds he could make out from the rooms.

Nothing much. All silence. Of course it would be silent though, that wasn’t Hange’s room yet.

Her room was towards the end of the hall, the third to the last door to the right. Eventually he got tired of keeping his footsteps and his awkward gait light and he found himself scurrying--- at least to the best of his own injured abilities--- towards the door.

He willed himself not to make a sound. He wasn’t sure though if he had been the sneakiest.

He was still quiet enough at least to hear something. He had to press his ear to the door to hear it clearly, the rhythmic clacking of the keyboard, the sound of books hitting the desk and a loud yawn that had been very much Hange’s.

The loud yawn in particular sent a twinge up his spine and an ache in his chest and Levi had to swallow hard to get his bearings. He missed her.

He knocked on the door once. Then twice to make sure she heard it. Then he waited five long seconds for any response.

There was no response. He slapped the door. Still no answer.

Within a few seconds more, he started to get self conscious. She didn’t reply to his messages while being glaringly online. She was blatantly ignoring his knocks on the door. Did she actually want to see him?

And Levi was starting to notice the growling of his stomach. It was enough of a reminder that he hadn’t even had breakfast that morning.

A little disheartened, he made the journey back to his room.

***

The coldest point of winter was coming. Levi would have noticed it by just looking at the calendar. It had been a while since he stood outside long enough to let the cold sink deep under his skin.

And he was only reminded of such weather patterns when he stepped on to the open air track which was understandably empty. Two in the afternoon shouldn’t be too cold but that day in particular had Levi shivering, his teeth chattering in such an unfamiliar way.

That would have been expected. He didn’t spend much time outdoors anymore, Maybe that had explained that sudden, unfamiliar susceptibility to the cold. He could never be too sure though.

He scanned the field for any sign of Mikasa or his coach. What first caught his eye then had been the horizontal bar, set up where it always was. He hadn't returned to the field since his injuryand seeing the bar like it always had been, sent a wave of nostalgia and longing through him.

For a while, he was fixated and for a few seconds more, he vacillated between sitting on the bleachers or walking to the middle of the track where it was set up. Alone in the field though with nothing much else to do though, he opted to pass the time reminiscing

The bar was set high enough for Levi to have to reach up but still low enough for him to be able to grip it hard. It was cold to the touch. It was a fair distance away from him and it hovered over him, masquerading as something almost unattainable.

But maybe it was unattainable. Levi found himself strangely sad at the distance, still unable to fathom that only a few months ago, that bar had been a very easy height to clear.

“Hey… Your coach said you’d be here.”

Levi quickly turned towards the voice.

Mikasa stood before him in joggers and a sweatshirt. Her hair clipped back, red blotches on her cheek. Levi only had to listen to her breaths and notice the way she curled her lips as she took steady breaths to conclude that she had been running.

“Coach is training you now? In the middle of winter?”

She shook her head. “No, I wanted to try out your track for myself. He left the club room and the equipment room open and told me to just try it out while he goes out to check on your team.”

“What made you change your mind?”

She avoided his gaze. “To be honest I’m still not completely sure about this yet. Your coach knows I’m not. But I thought I’d try it out, get to know your school more.”

“It’s a good choice,” Levi said.

For a second, the two were silent. Levi chose that moment to look back up at the bar in front of him but he could see from his peripherals, Mikasa still hadn’t looked away from him. So he waited.

She spoke up eventually. “Hey, about what happened at the diner… I’m sorry about that. I know I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I heard about your injury a while back, even before we met. Even if I don’t like jumping that much either, I think it would have hurt too…”

I’m fine. That had been his first instinct and he had opened his mouth ready to say it.

That’s your homework. Ride through the grief, the loss, the pain. Kuchel’s voice tore into his train of thought.

Will that actually help? He had been riding through that grief last night as he wrote, he had let it wash over him then. If he had been a little more introspective, he would have realized although it did hurt, it wasn’t a heavy, crushing type of hurt. It was a pain that still allowed him motions.

It granted him enough control to still function as a person. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not.” But it was still hard to admit. “It takes time,” Levi added as he looked back up at the horizontal bar and behind it the clear blue sky. The color blue was bright, warm yet melancholic.

Mikasa didn’t reply. Her stare though seemed more focused. When Levi looked at her, made eye contact, comprehension washed over him. He knew she understood. And he caught that comprehension quickly like some contagion.

He spoke up again. “Eren means a lot to you huh?”

“We grew up together, lived along the same street. We went to the same school since kinder. And since we were young, he'd get agitated a lot, pick a lot of fights and I always had to look out for him.” Mikasa put one hand behind her neck and craned her neck to look up at the sky. “I almost hesitated to even try jumping since I wouldn’t be able to protect him as much anymore…”

“Why did you start jumping then?”

“After I got scouted in sophomore year, Eren convinced me to try it. He was the one who wanted me to widen my world.”

“And he talked to you again about this?”

“He and Armin did. They told me to consider this.”

“Then it should be an easy decision.”

Mikasa smiled. “I know it’s supposed to be an easy decision. But how I feel about Eren doesn’t make it easy.. I’ve known Eren my whole life and don’t get me wrong, I’ve never lost him but... Somehow, I can imagine how it would feel like to lose him. So I don’t wanna let go.”

“But losing people, losing things that are precious to us is a fact of life. We’re gonna deal with it anyway. Besides, you’re not losing him, he’ll make college in a year or so.”

“He won’t make Paradis University.”

“You’ll have him on the weekends.”

“But will I be able to handle that set up?” Mikasa met his gaze again. She never lost Eren or so that was what she said.

Will I be able to handle it? Yet why was Levi seeing grief in her eyes? Why did such a strong wave of comprehension hit him almost violently in that moment where their eyes met?

Empathy? It was an easy answer to pick up for himself. But maybe it ran deeper than that, because suddenly, Levi was aware of the ground under him, the cold air caressing him, the loud rustle of leaves. He was feeling everything at once. And with it, he felt the twinge in his stomach, the pang in his chest, the knot in his throat.

The grief never left. The loss never left. And the pain gripped him tightly then. Letting himself feel it had left him with a strange bout of confidence, and a wave of liberation that seemed to stick and when Levi spoke up again, he wondered if he was speaking for himself or for her.

“You won’t know if you can handle it until you ride through it yourself.”

Mikasa seemed convinced.

His coach had arrived a few minutes after the conversation, incessantly apologizing about the traffic. The usual pleasant exchange followed.

“How are you?”

“Slowly learning to walk again, focusing on academics.,” Levi answered. “How’s the team?” They were preparing for nationals. He didn’t need an answer. There were still things his coach knew though which couldn’t be researched and he was still invested in any response his coach could give.

“They’re preparing for nationals, training in the indoor gym.” The indoor gym a few minute car ride from their campus. Levi had been training there every winter and it was easy to picture the drills they were probably doing then.

It soon evolved into some unnecessary athlete propaganda which Levi surmised was to entice MIkasa.

“The scouts for the national team have been watching Elijah closely. He’ll probably be getting an invitation soon after nationals are over,” he said, soon after the pleasantries had died out into an awkward silence. Greg turned to Levi. “They were asking about you too. You’d have gotten the invite. No one’s forgotten about you.”

Was that for Mikasa? Or for him? Soon, Levi started to ask. Was that supposed to cheer him up? Levi couldn’t gauge intention though and he found himself looking away as he started to feel the beginnings of a loss of control.

Mikasa may have sensed it. Or at least sensed that moment as a good time to speak up. “Could you tell me more about your athletics program? Levi told me a lot about his experience here and I think I might just be interested.”

The digression and the exchange that followed was quicker and more enthusiastic than something Levi would have easily caught on to. Suddenly Greg was shifting between enthusiasm and relief. And it evolved to some offer to tour her of the school. Then some mentions about dinner.

Levi though was making excuses. The campus was too wide for him to walk through injured. It was getting a little too cold. And with the peak of winter nearing, it might just even get dark in the next hour or so. His main reason for staying wasn’t among those though.

He had been sneaking glances at the bar and at the blue sky behind it. While the field was empty, while the school was lifeless and while the bar and the equipment was set up in front of him, he realized he might just have some unfinished business on the field.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll fix up the equipment here.”

“You sure?” Greg asked as he looked pointedly at Levi’s knee.

“It’s the least I can do. Besides, it won’t be too heavy after I disassemble it.” Or at least it wasn’t so heavy when Levi had carried it before. He turned to Mikasa. “Go ahead, enjoy the day,” Levi said, nodding his head reassuringly.

It didn’t take them much convincing. Greg was too excited and Mikasa started to seem eager as well to see the school.

And Levi wanted them to leave. Alone in the empty field with the equipment all set up, brought forth within him some unwanted feelings yet feelings which Levi wanted to process for himself one last time.

That’s your homework. Ride through the pain, the loss, the grief, the regret.

He was riding through it already and he was at least trying to find hope in that dreadful journey that left him almost desolate. Along the way, as he started to process the emotions, he fixated on the view of the bar, and maybe just a flicker of someone flying through the blue sky behind him. He soon stumbled upon one conclusion, one conclusion that Kuchel had suggested yet he had never really thought too much for himself until that moment.

At that moment, Levi let the emotions speak for him.

Regret is an emotion. Even if you say you don’t regret, even if you come out as the type not to regret, for sure you’ve regretted things right? It was a feeling you willingly chose to brush away. Kuchel had said then, as they had gone through her case study.

Levi had done his part to brush it away, to find something else to entertain him and to only hope that the emotions leave. But they never left. The aches that came with the view in front of him only proved it to him even before, and in that moment, it continued to prove it to him much faster and in more numerous ways than he could count.

So how do I stop feeling this?

You don’t. You can’t control how you feel. You can only control how you process it. The emotions leave when they want.

But when the time is right, you’ll be able to let it go...Before you know it, you’ll find closure.

Around that time, she had mentioned the word 'closure'. But closure had always been a vague word. It manifested as something different for everyone else. Levi soon realized as he started to move, it was a word that could never actually be contained to a black ink on white paper, or to spoken word.

For Levi, it had manifested at something he only sensed as something hazy. He thought he had control of his body then but along the way, it had felt like his body had assessed it for himself, the circumstances that he could only take advantage of at that moment.

He was alone in an empty field, the empty field he hadn’t visited in ages. The equipment was all set up for him. And if he closed his eyes then, allow himself to ignore the biting cold wind, the bare trees. If he just focused on the bar and the blue sky behind him, he could pretend it was summer again and before that, spring, and before that the last summer… Every single season—hell—every single day he had spent jumping over the bars.

His body was moving on its own, as if it understood the concept of closure before he did. He made his way to the clubroom.

I never did clean up after the injury. Levi thought to himself. His spare clothes, his spare pair of shoes and his face towel were all still in the locker, as they had been every time before. It was surprising, he had assumed someone would have cleaned it up.

He didn’t think too much of it though. There were other things he was raring to do. At that moment, he was just grateful nobody had half a mind to remind him, or he probably wouldn’t have been able to go through with his plans.

Levi put on his shoes, his right then his left. He changed to jogging pants and to the sweatshirt left in his locker. And for a second he did some test movements with it.

It was baggier than what he would have wanted, but he wasn’t in a competition, Levi could be as lenient as he wanted about it.

Beggars can’t be choosers. Levi thought to himself as he rolled up the jogger on his left leg and stared at the braced knee underneath. He could walk, he was sure. Yet just imagining himself removing the brace, left an unsettling feeling inside him.

He ended up pondering it for a while, a while longer than he was aware of. Soon enough, he decided on wearing it on the way back to the track, to just give his knee time to prepare.

On the way back, he passed by the equipment storage and he found himself thinking a lot harder about it. He looked back to the equipment in the field. Mikasa had mentioned setting it up. She had set up the pad underneath, but it had been an incomplete set up. Or so that was what Levi recalled.

There’s supposed to be a pad on top. Levi recalled. He opened the storage room to see the weather cover and the top pad, strewn on the side.

Lugging both the weather cover and the top pad would take two trips. Levi approximated. But did he have the time for two trips?

His coach was unpredictable. And just the idea of them coming back to catch him attempting such, was something Levi didn’t want to imagine then. So he folded up the weather cover and dragged the mat behind him, ignoring the uncomfortable twinge in his knee.

“Hey, you need help?”

Levi hadn’t expected anyone to be there. And of all people, Armin? “What are you doing here?”

“Mikasa told me she’s going out to dinner with your coach so she asked me to pick up her things from the club room…” Armin started. “I was here on campus already so…”

Levi softened his gaze, only realizing when Armin had trailed off quickly, avoiding his stare that he had probably been glaring. “You’re meeting Hange?” He asked, willing his voice to mellow.

“She’s been busy with thesis and I offered to help her out… So I’m picking up the stuff and will be meeting her soon after,” he explained. “But I arrived a bit early and I have some extra time." He offered his hand out to help.

Armin was extra hands. Extra hands meant time could go faster. And for sure, he could get Armin to hide his next set of plans.

“So, why are you bringing this to the field?” He asked, as they walked along the dirt path to the field.

Levi shrugged. “I guess I wanna try jumping one more time before I leave it for good.”

“But…”

Levi didn’t have to look at him to know what he wanted to suggest. “You’re thinking about my injury huh? It’ll be fine. I just wanna get a few jumps in.”

“It might be better to wait a few months?” Armin suggested.

“The team is training outside. The field is empty. The equipment is all set up and I’m graduating soon. When else but now?” Levi asked. Thinking back to it soon after he asked though, he could have waited a few months, maybe go back to school to just try it out one last time. But as they turned the corner and as the field opened up before him, Levi only had to look once again at the pale blue sky that stretched endlessly behind the field to be reminded, it ran deeper than that.

“You can wait a few months… I’m sure your coach---” Armin started, as if he had read his mind.

“When else, but now?” Levi pressed. The sky was starting to make its slow transition to purple, then. Orange and bright red were the next colors beyond that. And Levi started to see some of the steam, the colossal titans that marched forward slowly but surely. That one flicker in the sky though, caught his attention. She was concealed behind steam, and flashes of orange and bright red.

How much time did he have?

Armin took a deep breath. “This might sound weird. I’m probably the last person you wanna get advice from… I’m younger than you… and we just met… But Hange probably just rubbed off on me but you know, I guess I’m worried. I heard about your injury months ago, before we even met, Mikasa told me… It was in the rumor mill of the high jump community.”

So what?

“It must have been devastating huh? To lose something like that... Something that has been a constant in your life for five years even ten years…”

Devastating. Was that the right word?

“You must have regretted a lot…”

Did I let myself regret it? He willed himself not to regret then. It was a conscious decision to let the emotions flow free. Soon he had to admit— albeit uncomfortably— he regretted it.

“Then I thought of Mikasa. I actually talked to her about this, about Eren. And you know I was able to convince her that there is a life beyond Eren.”

“So let me predict, you wanna say there’s life beyond jumping?” Life beyond Hange?

Armin nodded. “I know it sounds generic. You probably heard it a million times before but… That was what Hange told us when you left…”

Levi didn’t have to listen to Armin quote it to hear it in her voice.

But… You understand, don’t you? Everyone you meet will be parted from you one day. I know it’s difficult to accept. It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. I know that.

But even so… We need to move forward…

Armin continued. “Move forward… because the world was wider than Eren. And I guess in your case, the world is wider than jumping. Now that I think about it, maybe you and Mikasa were facing similar things.”

It’s hard to stay sane, living like that. It’s painful. So painful. But we need to keep moving forward.

“Keep moving forward… But that’s what I did,” Levi said.

“But when Mikasa brought up the injury, I noticed it and i saw it still hurt you a lot— I’m sorry if I’m just making wild guesses here. I might be wrong.”

“What else did Hange say?” Levi asked. “After ‘keep moving forward?”

It was easy for Levi to imagine her saying that.

There is liberation in riding the pain through, accepting it will happen and just believing you can get past it.

There is liberation in everything. It’s just a matter of believing that happiness will come again.

“I reflected on it too, with Mikasa…” Armin added as they settled on the lowermost bleachers, closest to the bar. “And I thought of something… What if, the reason it’s so painful is because a part of us dies when we lose something. If Mikasa decides to leave Eren, part of her will die, the part of her that clung to him, her childhood, being with him everyday. They might just fade into distant memories the moment she decides to go to university. But there’s a life beyond him. And exchange for whatever part dies with her, her world widens..."

Levi nodded, glancing subtly at the view of the horizontal bar, the sky was shifting to a bright red behind it.

“Something inside her will be reborn. Maybe like reincarnation? There’s our college life waiting after high school, then our work life after that our family life, then retirement then maybe even other lives after that… Maybe even after we die... There's another life waiting for us.”

Levi shrugged. “You might be right,” he said. There was nothing much else to say. He stood up again and approached the landing pad, dragging that extra pad behind him.

“That’s it. After jumping, after whatever we’re doing now, we’re gonna graduate, move on to our next life. Then we just trust that things will get better, we encounter new things, new people to keep us going. We’ll find something else to keep us going.”

Then an old part of us dies and we’re reincarnated as a new person. That was the last sentence, Levi remembered Armin saying, or so that was the message he remembered.

He couldn’t be too sure about Armin’s exact words. Armin didn’t follow behind him either and his voice started to fade into the background.

Even before Armin’s words could whittle into nothing though, the orange sky started to scream at him, the horizontal bar, only nearer, started to goad him in. “That’s why I wanna enter that new life with no regrets,” Levi said.

Eventually Armin gave up.

Or Levi might just have gotten better at ignoring protests. He got better at creating that world, that consisted of just him, the field, the horizontal bar and the sky. The sky that was still a bright orange, the last flash of light before night blankets it. He didn’t have much time.

So Levi gave up on putting the pad on top. He gave up on the weather cover. He unwrapped his brace and threw it towards the side of the field..

Just one jump. The inhibitor within him promised. It sent a buckle through his knee and a light twinge of pain. It could have been stronger than a twinge, but Levi refused to feel it..

There’s just one thing I need to do for myself and I’ll close this part of my life for good.

Captain Levi never regretted. Or so that was what he had willed himself to do before. But everybody would regret even at least once in their life. Levi was part of that everyone and he had kept his own regret mum inside him. It festered into a wound, then to a scab and eventually it grew to shackles that kept him from moving freely, from moving on.

Ride the pain, the loss, the grief.

So he let the shackles do their work, he let the weight slow him down as he walked towards the starting line.

For a few seconds more, he found himself having to catch his breath as the sun made its way down from the horizon. It glowed a bright red, and along the way it released flashes of orange and yellow.

Soon enough, it was just him and the sky. Then him, the sky and someone else.

“Commander Hange Zoe,” he muttered quietly, yet still loud enough to hear it himself. That word, that name, only made that flicker up in the sky a little more lucid.

The silhouette that flew up in the mountains. The silhouette that flew past the buildings and up at the colossal titans.

That silhouette that burned into nothing up in the sky.

The rustle of the leaves, the biting cold and the distant footsteps though still threatened to pull him out of that world he created for himself. With the sun starting to disappear before the horizon, before the bright red--- the flames--- burned through the flicker. Before the flicker fell to the ground and burned out, Levi knew he would have to move.

Why don’t you want to jump? Levi asked himself. His knees were still buckling. The footsteps were still moving. He could get caught soon if he didn’t do it then.

When else will I be able to do this? Levi pressed, an attempt to push his body forward. His body was starting to disobey, or at least the scabbed knee, his joints, the remnants of bruises in his neck from each painful fall that led up to his injury. The biting cold and the pain at his throat from breathing the dry winter air made him even doubt his ability to run.

Certainly, he was in no shape to jump. But he wasn’t giving up just yet.

Eventually, he did find the right question, the one that had him recalling, then feeling everything at once. And it got his body moving.

Why did you start jumping?

I had dreams. I dreamt I could fly and when I jumped, there was this sense of nostalgia…

Letting himself name the emotions for what they were, he soon realized, the comfort that came with jumping wasn’t borne of nostalgia. It was borne of regret.

Captain Levi had one regret which he never entertained. One regret that ran so deep it could never be summarized with a single question.

Should I have stopped her?

Should I have run after her?

Should I have fought with her?

Back then, he never did go after her. so he never found answers. But in that split second flying feet up in the air with just the view of the blue sky above him, he always found hints to it.

So he continued to jump, higher and higher.

You won’t find the answer, no matter how high you jump. Something inside him nagged.

But I wanna leave this part of my life with no regrets. “I wanted to save you,” Levi said. It was only himself who could have spoken or heard him. So maybe he had said it a little louder, he couldn’t tell.

The flicker in the sky started to burn and like the many times he had envisioned that scene, he expected it to fall over soon. He was certain of that.

I should have tried to save you.

Trying never guaranteed success. But trying always had that special ability of just cushioning a fall, protecting against the impact of regret that followed.

And maybe that was the right thing to do. That alone had been enough to send a burst of energy through him, to bring back the muscle memory that got him succeeding at each height, winning competition after competition.

He wanted to fly. So he ran, like he had done many times before. He let his steps bounce, ignoring the pain in his knee.

The horizontal bar was nothing but a convenient silhouette, a guide towards his actual goal.

If I tried to save you, would things have ended up different?

Commander Hange Zoe was the source of energy that got him bouncing on that knee. It got him ignoring that white flashes of pain that followed. She was up there in the sky, fighting the colossal titans and Levi was determined to fly after her.

He positioned himself to jump in that split second, like he had done many times before. As his body turned to his side though, he saw another Hange Zoe.

She wasn’t a flicker nor a silhouette though She was clearly there, chestnut brown hair, bright eyes, like she had been in every single one of the competitions. He needed a split second more to process her. He was pressed for time though so he opted to look straight ahead, to focus on the jump.

“Levi!”

Levi was already up in the air when he heard her call out, when reality gripped at him and attempted to pull him back. Suspended up in the air, floating, it had been easier to pull away.

That was his last jump, his last attempt to save Commander Hange Zoe and he would see it through

There were things though people can will with all their minds, yet their body would still choose to disobey. If the body hadn’t been such a limiting factor, maybe everyone would have been an Olympic athlete.

Levi only had that crushing lesson on reality, hit him hard when he landed painfully on pad, the bar underneath him.

The flicker that he could have sworn was Hange faded into the sky. Or maybe it had fallen over too quickly, in the few moments it took Levi to blink.

The sky shifted into a deep blue. It would shift to a darker blue, then soon, the sky would be painted black. It took the flicker in the sky that had been Hange and soon it would be taking his surroundings with it.

Right after taking her? He would have wanted to ask. He had learned it before already, reality was cruel. There was no use bargaining with it.

It was starting to get cold. The heat in that moment as he made the jump and the heat of the fiery death he had witnessed, waged war with the winter chill that was starting to eat at him too.

Too many discomforts to process at once and in that second, Levi was almost grateful for the desolation, the disappointment that was also nagging at him then.

So he gave it some traction and soon, some place in reality. “I’m sorry, I can’t fly anymore,” he whispered. Those words should have been between him and whatever flicker had disappeared in the sky.

There had been an intruder though and Levi was slow to notice it. “Levi! What were you thinking?” she asked.

Gentle hands ran through him. Familiar hands pressed at his knees, at his arms. “Just thought I’d try it one last time.” Levi answered as he turned to the voice.

Hange’s face softened as they made eye contact. “Levi… you know the momentum comes from the run… With your injury, you wouldn’t have been able to even jump heights less than two meters..”

“I wanted to. Just one last time.”

Her hazel eyes were on him again, and they could have been glistening, illuminated by the already dim light as the winter sun shone with its last few rays.

“You don’t need to...” She helped him into a sitting position and Levi followed suit, surprised out how his body was still obeying him

Need to what? He hoped to seek clarity in the seconds that followed. Shaken for sure by those bursts of movement, the pain that came and the pain he had expected to come, he found himself unable to speak.

But it turned out, he didn't need to. He couldn't speak so Hange spoke for him. “If you don’t want me to, I won't leave you,” she said.

A minute ago, it had been hot. A few seconds ago it had been chilly. When she wrapped her arms around him though, the war between hot and cold ended with a comfortable compromise. Her tight embrace was lukewarm. “I’m right here… And I'll be right here for as long as you want me to be."

[wulfies-kpop-fanfics]

One Photo → Mark Lee [8]

↳  Pairing: Mark Lee/Reader

↳  AU: Soulmate!AU - The first touch of two soulmates permanently scars their bodies.

↳  Warning: angst if you squint, I guess

↳  Word count: 2,294

↳  Chapters: Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | You Are Here! | 9

⁙ Summary: For an end of the year photography project, you’re tasked with taking a photograph for your favourite group, NCT127, and coincidentally, discover your soulmate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WEDNESDAY - 8 TWO YEARS LATER

The heart of Toronto would never compare to the magnificence of Times Square in New York, but the mass amount of billboards by the Eaton Center always managed to send you into awe during your nightly trek home from work. 

You looked up toward the billboards with a sigh as you waited for your streetcar, barely managing to squeeze out a smile as you saw Mark’s visage splayed along one of the electronic spaces. The night sky was too polluted with the city’s light to display any real stars, but Mark’s face was more than enough for you. For the past week, you had seen NCT127’s faces sprawled across that billboard, part of promotions for their latest global comeback. It was a brief respite as you waited for your streetcar home every night, to finally know that the day was over and that you could relax.

It had been such a long time since you’ve seen Mark in person. Even though you texted him every day when the two of you were awake at the same time and video chatted whenever he had five minutes to himself, it always felt depressing to be without him. To not kiss or touch or hug at all was torture.

Everyone knew that it was deadly for soulmates to be apart for so long, that depression would set in and even worse physical illnesses were a real risk. It was hard to be so far away and over the past year you had been let go from multiple jobs because you were constantly sick, and therein lies the problem. You simply couldn’t afford the solution to your problem. So, depression and illness it was. It took everything you had to keep your head above water, to keep your dream alive and know that one day your heart wouldn’t ache as much as it does at the present moment.

After a 20 minute ride on the streetcar, you entered your building and took the stairs up to your little hole-in-the-wall apartment, the bare minimum that you could afford after Rhiannon paid her last half of the old place’s rent. A single bed, bath and a tiny kitchen that housed a little chair and round table. Thankfully, there was enough counter space that you could place a tiny TV to watch Netflix on while you ate. You were lucky that the house had a large living room, which doubled as your studio.

The coffee table was one of the only things left from your old apartment, along with the tote of Marvel films you kept hidden below it. Atop the table now rested all of your cameras, a drawing tablet and cards that you got in the mail from Mark from time-to-time, instead of notes, binders and textbooks. Sitting against the wall across from the table was a small bookshelf and an easel with a large frame sitting on it, housing the last portrait you finished the night before, ready to be shipped to the buyer.

After… somewhat enjoying a quick pot of white cheddar mac & cheese and watching a rerun of Supernatural on your little TV, you head into your room and sit at the desk next to your bed. After starting your computer, you opened up discord and sat back in your wheely chair, waiting for Rhiannon’s status to change to green. Wednesday was the day that she had to be up early for her job, so that meant time for a 10-minute call before you went to bed and she went to work. 

Next to your computer was a copy of the photo you took two years ago, of your soulmate and all his friends beneath the shedding cherry trees in High Park. You smiled at it, the memory was fond but now faint in your mind. You reached forward to pick it up, but you stopped yourself. You knew that if you inspected the photo more, you’d only miss Mark and all your friends more. 

There were times where your apartment became so quiet that it reminded you how alone you really were. You had lived with Rhiannon most of your life, and that meant there was at least some noise going on at all times. Whether she had her headset unplugged when she was listening to music or watching youtube videos, she was clattering about when helping you wash and dry the dishes, or if she was walking around and tripped on nothing. She was always talking, laughing, or doing something that always let you know that she was there. Now, you had nothing.  

The silence is broken and you’re startled by the calling sound from discord, Rhiannon’s icon popping up on the top of your screen. You place your hand on your mouse and click the join call button, adjusting the webcam perched on the top of your desktop monitor. 

"Hey," Rhiannon was the first to speak, yawning and reaching back to pull her hair into a perfect, tight ponytail. 

"Hey," you respond, watching her closely and leaning your chin on your right palm. "How are you holding up?"

"I should be asking you that, Jesus, you look like the Hulk if he got the swine flu," she retorts, and even through the grainy quality you can tell she has sympathy written all over her face. "I'm doing great, we've got two cleanings today and a wisdom teeth removal, so that'll be fun." 

You scoff and attempt to smile, "I'm fiiiiine, other than the fact that I'm here and you're there, 13 hours in the future and at least one ocean in between us and an entire continent and a half. I'd say that constitutes abandonment."

"I got the getting while it was good and you know that," she stuck her tongue out at you. "You need to keep saving so that you can fly your ass out here." She squinted at the screen. "You really need to drink like… an entire bottle of nyquil, dude."

"If only it were that easy," you groan. "I don't even have a photographer's position yet. All I get is sitting at a desk and responding to emails… even with my head start, I can't find a good job and I barely make enough to keep living in Toronto." You stick out your tongue back at her for the nyquil comment. "As if I haven't been hiding a bottle of dayquil in my desk for the past week."

Rhiannon stopped what she was doing and leaned toward her camera. "You know why you can't get the jobs you want," her voice is soft, empathetic. "Mark is having trouble, too. He's been doing a lot of half days, so I don't know how they plan to do their tour with him being constantly sick." 

You looked away. "I can't afford to take any more time off… I don't want to lose this job. If I do, I'm not sure that I'll be able to make my rent."

"You're going to need to take time eventually,” Rhiannon stated firmly. "If you don't get at least some of your strength back you're going to end up in the hospital like I did. Remember?" 

You glanced back at your screen, watching Donghyuck wander around in the backdrop. You were beyond jealous that they got to live together. 

"Maybe. I just miss you. More than I miss having a clear passageway in my nose." 

Rhiannon smiled sadly at you. "I miss you too, everyone does. You'll be here soon, I promise. I gotta go, sleep well and drink plenty of water, okay?"

"Okay." 

Rhiannon waved at you before her screen went dark, ending the call. The call was shorter than usual, so you presumed that she had woken up late. You zoned out a little, acutely aware that the apartment had gone silent again. You didn't want to cry, to give up after surviving for so long. You had made it this far without letting everything get to you.

You knew that your deteriorating health was because of your separation from Mark and companies saw that as a liability, even though laws had come into place last year to protect separated soulmates from workplace discrimination. You felt a tiny ping of hope when Rhiannon said you would be able to move soon, but you knew she was lying to make you feel better. 

Feeling lethargic, you stand and make your way to the dresser in the corner of your room, stripping and throwing your clothes about the room. You open up a drawer and pull out a pair of sweatpants and the softest t-shirt you could find and slipped them on, wandering to your bed and slowly climbing in. You slipped off your glasses, placing them on your desk and reached forward to turn off your lamp.

You hugged your polar bear and tried to get comfortable, hoping to fall asleep quickly. You supposed you could call into work when you woke up; at least your manager was nice enough to understand when you needed a day off. You rolled over, tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not while your phone was constantly buzzing. 

"What the hell," you mumble to yourself, untangling yourself from the knot of blankets you had tied yourself in to reach for your phone. Your lock screen lit up with a photo of Mark, one you had taken two years ago of him standing in Union Station. 

[Rhiannon (5)] 

She sure knew how to type quickly. 

Rhiannon: I'm on my way to work, I'll let you know when I'm there

Rhiannon: sorry our call was so short, I was running a little late

Rhiannon: I talked to Mark last night, did he say anything? 

Rhiannon: are you asleep already? It's been like 5 minutes 

Rhiannon: ok you're basically just ignoring me at this point

You: calm down bro I was getting in my pyjamas 

Rhiannon: I forgot how slow you get when you're sick, I could die of boredom waiting for you to respond 

You: hardy har 

Rhiannon: so have you talked to mark today? 

You: around lunchtime he woke up from a nightmare but I assume hes busy right now 

Rhiannon: Things have been pretty bad around now, I think you might have guessed that

You: Yeah, things aren’t really that great here either, but I’m more worried about Mark… have they given him time off? 

Rhiannon: Not much besides half days. He’s really been missing you. Maybe you should message him and see if he’s not busy

You: Yeah, maybe. I feel really guilty

Rhiannon: I know. I still could help you buy your plane ticket, you know. You: You know I can’t do that, I can’t take more from you than I have already. I owe you too much.

No response. 

You: Rhiannon I’m sorry 

You: Come on, you can’t have scrubbed in that fast!

You sighed, staring at your screen and still seeing no response from your best friend. You took a deep breath in and immediately regretted it when you began coughing up a lung, but at least you weren't upchucking your dinner. Instead, you decided to send a text to Mark.

You: mark, you there? 

You close your mind for a moment, thinking that maybe going to bed even later than usual would just make you more sick in the end, but you really needed to know what was going on. 

Mark: yeah I'm here babe, what's wrong, can't sleep? 

You: no not really… do you have time to talk for a bit? 

Mark: yeah, my legs gave out during our first practice so I'm taking a break

You: I'm sorry

Mark: it's not your fault (Y/N) 

You: it kind of is, we're both dying because I can't afford to move 

Mark: (Y/N), we're not dying, and it's okay, you'll be able to move soon

You: face it you know that we are… I haven't felt this horrible in a long time and I've thrown up three times today 

Mark didn't respond right away. 

Mark: why are you putting yourself down so much 

You: I just… have a lot of regrets right now 

Mark: what do you mean

You licked your lips and rolled over in bed, wondering if you should tell him.

Mark: are you okay? 

You: no, I feel like this would make you hate me 

Mark: I could never hate you and you know that. Tell me what's been bothering you.

You: For the past while… Rhiannon’s been offering me money. It’s honestly not much because everyone’s struggling nowadays, but it would be enough for me to fly to Korea, and I’ve felt so guilty about it that I kept saying no and she stopped offering

Mark: You mean that you could have been here faster? You: and now I feel that saying no was a really bad idea… and I.. I can’t afford anything, barely even food and now I hear that you’re even more sick than I am and I feel terrible

You: I don’t know what to do

Mark: It’s okay, (Y/N), really. I know how hard it is to take money from someone else, I’m not mad at you

You: Really?

Mark: I’m just disappointed that I have to keep waiting. You’ll be able to move soon, I promise, I promise, I promise

You: Are you going to be okay

Mark: As long as you are. Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll be there for you the second you land. Okay?

You: Okay. I… I should probably get some sleep now. Mark: Rest well, I love you

You: I love you too 

You sighed, placing your phone on your desk and turning over in your bed. It was time.

[unbelievableholland]

prompt 73 for fluff? tom comes home from hanging out w the boys and sees clothes all over the floor and stuff thinking the reader is cheating on him. when he busts the door open he sees a blowup doll in the bed and the reader is hysterical. i’ve been watching too many pranks recently and i thought it’d be funny, thank you 😆😘

"What the fuck?!"

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Cheating as a prank, swearing, fluff, and it gets a lil smutty. It's not smut tho.

Words: 1,724

Summary: You decide to prank Tom as pay back for his previous prank on you.

A/N: I had so much fun writing this! I hope y'all like it! It's a bit different from the ones I wrote before just because of the ending😂 I hope I did a good job on that.

Prompt:

73. "It's a prank! It's a prank, it's a prank."

——————————————————————

Revenge. That’s all in your mind as you walk around the mall buying different men's clothing. Of course, you don’t really worry about the paparazzi since you and Tom aren’t public yet. Not being public has never been more convenient to the both of you when you go out on your own.

The reason you’re shopping for men’s clothing isn’t actually because you want to buy Tom new clothes, but because he pranked you a week before. You’re just planning a simple revenge prank, is all.

When you have a full set of clothes, you get in line to pay for them. You actually bought clothes the you know Tom would like though. You don’t want them to go to waste, so you bought a plain black hoodie, a red Spider-Man shirt and a pair of black-tinted pants.

Of course, You also bought accessories such as a belt, a cap, and a pair of shoes that Tom’s been wanting to buy, as an apology for what you’re about to do.

But you’d never forget about the main object of your prank. A blow-up doll.

On your way home, you actually second guess your plan because you feel a bit guilty. You thought back to his prank a week before though, and you’re sure that you’ll go through with your plan.

Tom’s prank was not nice at all. Him, his brothers, and Harrison staged a fight after all of you got back from the pub.

It was full of shouting between Tom and Harrison for a full 10 minutes. Harrison accused Tom on cheating on you, Tom acted suspiciously the whole time as well.

To summarize, it ended in you crying because you actually thought Tom cheated on you, but of course all of them told you it was a prank. They apologized for taking it too far, and you’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a week.

You really aren’t mad though, but when they told you it was a prank, it resulted in you coming up with your own devious plan. Pretending to be mad at them is just a build-up to make you’re the prank more believable.

Once you get to your shared apartment with Tom knowing that he’s out drinking with the boys, you get the clothes from the paper bag and think about where you’re going to place them. They’d be back in one or two hours minimum, so you have no problem taking your time. You walk up to the table by the T.V and place a camera right there, pressing the record button. You can just cut the video after the prank.

You decide to place the shoes messily on the ground near the door, the hoodie near the couch along with the cap. Making your way near the stairs and place the pants there, the underwear being placed in front of your shared bedroom with Tom.

When the new clothes are set in place, you enter the bedroom and go straight to your closet. You take out your own set of clothing, but unlike the men’s clothing, it’s a little bit more inappropriate.

It’s simple really. It’s Tom’s favourite silk robe and black lingerie.

Making your way back to the living room, you place the robe next to the shirt, and the lingerie next to the underwear in from of the bedroom.

You feel a bit guilty as you inflate the blow-up doll to finish up the pranks, when your phone vibrates which interrupts your train of thoughts. It’s a text from Tom, saying that they’re on their way home from the pub.

They’re going home earlier than you think, so you hurry up. Leaving the text on read, just like you have for the past week.

Tom’s going to flip when he comes home.

The prank just got 10 times better when you see Tom’s follow up text message saying that the boys will be coming over.

Once the blow-up doll is set, you bring it up with you to the bedroom, setting up your phone to capture Tom’s reaction on the bedside table and clicking record, and getting under the covers with the doll. You’d worn a skin colored spaghetti strapped top so you wouldn’t have to remove your clothes.

Everything’s set. The phone is set up so that some of the bed and the door is caught in the frame.

The pub they went to isn’t far from your apartment. It’s only about 10 minutes away from here so you expect to hear the door unlock anytime now.

Now, from Tom’s perspective, the past week has been hell. You haven’t texted him back on any of his messages, and you barely talked to him. You haven’t given him any attention and it’s killing him.

It’s killing him because he knows it’s mostly his fault.

Though the boys have helped him and comforted him, they still feel bad themselves. So, it’s safe to say that all of them are clueless as to what they should do to make things better.

They’ve prepared themselves for a scolding from you, or an argument, or another week of glares and silent treatments from you.

But none of them expected to see clothes scattered around the floor when they opened the door to the apartment.

Tom’s eyes widen in shock.

“What the fuck!?”

All of them are speechless. They didn’t expect this from you.

Tom turns around and looks at the boys. “Please tell me I'm going crazy.” His breathing becomes uneven, trying to keep the tears from rising.

Sam swallows down the lump in his throat and speaks up. He’s wary about what he says because he doesn’t want to make things any worse.

“Y-You should talk to her.” What else was he supposed to say? He had never been in this type of situation before and he’s absolutely shitting his pants right now.

He turns back around, sitting on the couch and putting his head I his hands. He opens his mouth to speak, but he quickly gets interrupted.

All of the boys stand straighter upon hearing a string of moans from upstairs followed by multiple curse words.

Tom on the other hand, stands up and clenches his fist. He recognizes that voice because it’s yours.

Anger fills him and he dashes upstairs only to find your black lingerie and a pair of men's underwear in front of the bedroom door. He absolutely loses his shit and barges through in, seeing you on top of some random guy with your back facing him.

He runs towards the right side of the bed, yanks you off of the guy and drags you downstairs.

“What the fuck were you thinking?! Why the fuck— How long has this been going on?”

Tom’s gripping your wrist tightly, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence and tears form in his eyes. You feel guilty, really, absolutely guilty. Especially now that your laughing your ass off in front of Tom and the boys.

“Babe—” You keep laughing. Since you can’t talk properly at the moment, you point to your body. Wearing a pair of his sweatpants and a skin coloured spaghetti strap top.

Your boyfriend quickly realizes that this is the first time he’s heard you laugh in a week, and that you’re fully clothed.

While Tom’s trying to process what’s happening, and while the boy’s are still shocked and frozen, you run upstairs.

Grabbing the doll and running back down to the living room, shouting quickly while trying to suppress a laugh. “It’s a prank! It’s a prank, it’s a prank.”

“What the actual fuck Y/N!” Tom shouts as he grabs the doll, throwing it to the ground.

The only response you give him is a raised eyebrow with your hands on your hips as you try your hardest not to smile in entertainment.

Everyone in the room is relieved, but also slightly annoyed.

Without talking, you point to the camera by the T.V, then Harrison starts laughing. The laughter being joined by Harry and Sam.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t find tis funny?!”

“Sorry mate, you got played!” You walk over to Harrison and you high five him. The look of victory is clear on your face.

“Yeah bubs, sorry. You don’t find this funny, right? Well, I didn’t find your prank last week funny either.”

“But those aren’t my clothes Y/N?? If this is actually a prank, whose clothes are those??”

“I bought them today. They’re about to be your clothes if you want. I mean, look at the shoes. You’ve wanted those for months, and you finally have them.”

Slowly, you walk towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. Kissing him and resting your head on his chest. He finally gives in and breathes out a sigh of relief, hugging you back.

“You know I'd never cheat on you, love.”

“I know. Just scared me, is all.”

“You know you deserve it.” You look up at his face, and he giggles. That cute little giggle he has that you absolutely adore.

You turn your head towards the boys, arms still wrapped around Tom. “Sorry I've been distant this past week. It was all of build up.”

“Yeah, we realize that now.” Sam says. “Well, we better leave you alone for now. We’ll be back tomorrow.” Sam ushers the boys out. All of them smirking at the both of you, and Harrison winks before they exit.

When you turn your head back to Tom, he kisses you roughly. His tongue slipping in your mouth easily as you let him take control of the kiss.

“God, I've missed this.” He grunts into the kiss, the camera by the T.V long forgotten.

He pulls away and suddenly puts an arm under your legs, carrying you bridal style up to your bedroom and dropping you on the bed.

Kissing you again as he lays down in between your legs, arms roaming around your body.

He pulls away once again and looks at you. His pupils are blown and he smirks at you then at the phone on the bedside table. He reaches for your phone then shuts off the recording.

Tom turns to look at you again once he’s put the phone down and grins.

“You’re going to regret that little prank of yours, darling.”

——————————————————————

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[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

[hoekaashi]

HQ Skincare hcs

a/n: i had too much fun with these hehe, hope you enjoy! onto my next series which will be longer than the skincare ones characters: kageyama, kenma, kuroo, oikawa, iwachan, atsumu, osamu warnings: none other than my language lol taglist: @babydabi @suckersuki @bakugoustanaccount @animoozies @haiikyuuns @depths-of-your-soul @differentballooncollection @waitforitillwritemywayout​

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

⇾ growing up as in going to middle school with oikawa, he picked up some stuff ⇾ small things, like which cleanser is better for his skin, what type of skin he has, the difference between toner and essence, what daytime moisturizer he should use and what nighttime one ⇾ things like that ⇾ and even once he was no longer around oikawa, skincare became something that he enjoyed doing ⇾ he would look up new products on his own and he was always willing to try new products too ⇾ his teammates are always so awestruck by his dedication just to his skin ⇾ wouldn’t mind splurging every once in a while on a holy grail product, but everything else is pretty much drugstore stuff ⇾ until he started getting products sent to him in pr packages once bokuto and atsumu let it slip in an interview that kags has a dedicated routine ⇾ his 4 step routine turned into 12 very fast and unfortunately for him, half the time he doesn’t know what he’s doing and ends up bothering oikawa about it

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ he’s a rich bitch and it shows ⇾ he gets a facial two to three times a month, doesn’t care that he shouldn’t get them too frequently ⇾ his mentality is that if he’s not washing his face every day, it’s okay for him to get facials more frequently ⇾ he just really enjoys the massages they give him, but after learning that he doesn’t do anything at home to take care of his skin, they make him a list of products to use and create an entire daytime and nighttime routine for him ⇾ and because he can, he buys the fancy shmancy products that are overpriced ⇾ his favorite part of the routine is putting a cold sheet mask on his face and letting it marinate on his skin ⇾ he ends up buying a beauty fridge and stocking it up with mostly sheet masks ⇾ but because he doesn’t want to be wasteful, he ends up learning how to recycle them properly along with how to make his own sheet masks ⇾ his facialist starts crying when she finds out that he’s actually taking care of his skin now

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally didn’t do shit for his face ⇾ but as he got older, he would look into ingredients more - not only with what he was putting in his body, but also on it ⇾ around his last year of high school, he decided to start a routine but it wasn’t anything too fancy ⇾ proper face wash and a moisturizer ⇾ slowly he started to build it more looking into the benefits of using toners and the difference between fermented products and regular ones ⇾ you can pry nerdy science kuroo from my cold dead hands but rigor mortis will make that even harder for you to do haha ⇾ once he got his fancy schmancy job, he had the money to splurge on skincare so not only did he get products that were good for him, he also got the expensive ass ones that typical people would save up for and make it last way past the expiration date ⇾ kenma got him hooked on sheet masks ⇾ he has a mini fridge in his office and whenever he’s stressed or just super tired, he’ll pop one on with some eye patches and just take a 10-20 minute nap in his chair ⇾ even though he’s not very active on social media (most of his followers are people who found him through kenma), he will still email companies and ask them to add him to his pr list ⇾ will bug kenma whenever he isn’t added to the pr list

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ this bitch has a full 12 step routine that he perfected at a young age because he wanted to preserve his youth ⇾ ”why do you wait until you start aging to use anti-aging products? if i start at a young age, i’ll never get wrinkles and people will forever think i’m 20 years old” ⇾ rotates out one product whenever it finishes so his skin doesn’t get used to it ⇾ takes pride in his looks so he would never hesitate to drop money on a product that he knows works ⇾ but on the other side, he also doesn’t mind drugstore products if they do a bomb ass job too ⇾ tried to change the other seijoh third years to have better routines and they all either ignored him or assaulted him with body wash bottles or anything else laying around ⇾ everything is displayed in his bathroom in an aesthetic way ⇾ easily notices if even one product is off ⇾ has a travel sized version of his entire routine and it doesn’t matter if he’s away from his place for even one day/night, he will take the entire thing with him wherever he’s going ⇾ has never missed a single day of his routine which is why iwa went through his acne phase through puberty and oikawa didn’t he still holds it against him to this day

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ literally uses bar soap to wash his face and moisturizes with coco butter BODY LOTION ⇾ oikawa has a heart attack whenever he sees him do this and proceeds with his cardiac arrest when iwa tells him to fuck off ⇾ wanted to punch oikawa in the face whenever he teased him about not having breakouts since he took care of his skin while they were growing up, but once puberty was done and his hormones were balanced, he never saw another pimple on his face again ⇾ will go to grave without a soul knowing, but his acne pissed him off so much he actually bought products to treat it ⇾ advocate for Proactiv MD ⇾ eventually grew out of his bad habits with skincare but still doesn’t do anything more than face wash, toner, and moisturizer ⇾ will never spend more than 25 bucks on a single product. ever. ⇾ enjoys how oikawa gets jealous knowing that he does the bare minimum and his skin looks as great as it does ⇾ quietly thanks his parents for their good genes

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ aha ha ha he’s awful ⇾ rinses his face with water after practice, and if he’s showering, he’ll use his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner to wash his face ⇾ complains about the weird coating it leaves on his face and when osamu tells him it’s because hair products aren’t for his face, he just says it’s extra moisturizing and walks away ⇾ wanna know why he copied osamu’s hairstyle in high school? it’s because his greasy ass forehead was covered in acne from the sweat, clogged pores, and lack of proper hygiene ⇾ in desperation, he stole osamu’s skincare products and used it to clear up his forehead their last year of high school ⇾ for once in his life, osamu let him get away with it because he was tired of hearing his brother complain about his skin ⇾ his patience ran out when he saw his brother using coconut oil on his skin - the kind you use for cooking ⇾ atsumu sat through three hours of his brother telling him what was good for his skin and what was bad - coconut oil was bad especially for his oily face ⇾ as an adult though, he has the money to spare to get facials and visit a dermatologist regularly ⇾ ironically became the face of a new skincare line and osamu never laughed harder when he saw the ads

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

⇾ not super involved as a teenager but knows what products work for him and what don’t ⇾ definitely reads the ingredients and knows the good stuff from the bad stuff ⇾ doesn’t mind splurging on a product or two in high school, but nothing more than that he’d rather spend his money on food ⇾ as an adult it’s up to his mood on whether he would drop money for skincare or not ⇾ he enjoys getting microdermabrasion facials and gets one every 6-8 weeks to help his skin cell turnover rate ⇾ never misses his nighttime routine but not because he’s dedicated to his skin, but because he uses the time to relax before bed and just unwind ⇾ will have either relaxing music playing or complete silence as he does his routine - do NOT talk to him while he’s doing this though it’s his ‘me’ time just like when he works in the kitchen but that’s neither here nor there he needs a lot of ‘me’ time ⇾ if he can’t go to his facial, he will be working in the kitchen with a headband pushing his hair back and sheet mask on ⇾ has an anonymous blog where he rates and reviews new skincare products that’s pretty popular

[sucker-for-minyard]

When i say that "All For The Game" is important to me and helped me undestand my personal limits, i mean it.

[Tw: harassment]

When i was 10, i started to study in a school called "CEN". There, i made incredible friends, but also not so great ones.

From my first year there (10yo) to my last year there (13yo), i was basically in a school were the people, specially the older ones, had NO CONCEPT of CONSENT AND PERSONAL SPACE.

I lost the count of how many times teenagers would lift my skirt or my shirt, take off my bra, touch my breasts or kiss me without warning.

I was 10!!!! Starting to learn about my body, entering puberty, and i had the worst example possible.

Eventually, i just thought it was normal. It was ok for a friend, who was 16, to grope me, 11, when we passed through each other in the corridor.

It was ok for me to have these older guys hitting on me and talking openly about sexual stuff.

it was ok for people that i DIDN'T EVEN KNOW to touch my body. to kiss me.

it was ok for a friend to grope me and disrespect my body, because that's what people do when they like you. right? right?

i had no idea how much i was disrespecting myself, and how everything that happened would impact my relationship with others in the future.

Fast foward to when i was 14, and moved to another school for X reasons.

I legitimately thought that everyone hated me. I cried to my parents bc i thought that no one wanted to be friends with me.

Guess why.

Because in months there, no one touched me in a weird way. No one disrespected my body. No one forced themselves into my personal space.

I was devastated, and was always on edge, thinking that my friends would go away in any second.

At the same time, i met a guy that I'll call "Adam" bc i don't need his name here. He was the boyfriend of one of my friends from CEN. And we became friends really quickly.

We would call each other for HOURS. He was two years older.

And one day, he started to flirt with me.

I had NO EXPERIENCE dating. I never had someone that i was in love with, and the thought of someone older and pretty and interesting would like ME was just too much. I fell head over heels for him. Not in love. Just, emotionally attached.

He kept flirting, initially nothing much, but then he started to talk about sexual things. Things that he wanted me to do to him and with him. What he wanted to do with me.

And one day, he just called me while jerking off.

I was terrified. I didn't knew how to tell him to 'stop'. That i didn't liked that kind of friendship. Because i didn't want to lose him.

So i just kept letting it happen. Until he decided to grope me in front of his girlfriend and i just had too much.

I went home and cried for hours with my mom on the phone. You know what she said? That it was my fault, since i gave him so much liberty.

That sentence really stayed with me.

And then the year was ending, and i was waiting for my friends from school to finally walk away and stop talking to me.

But they didn't. I did.

And the next year, when i was 15, i was in a new school.

I spent one year there with no problems. Didn't really bond with anyone but was starting to make some friends. It was nice, even tho i was basically being bullied by my classmates. I could ignore it and so i did.

Fast foward to Last year, 2019. now i had 16. Most of my year passed normaly. I never liked studying but i did the minimum to not fail.

And then, in September, i met someone in a party. I'll call him "Dave" because i don't want to put his real name in my blog.

Dave was clearly a 'rebel without a cause'. He smoked and drank without caring about his health. He was cool and everyone wanted to hang out with him. He painted his nails and played the guitar.

And for some reason, he wanted to hook up with me. Not date.

And i fell for it. I kissed him once and was already in heaven. How the fuck someone so cool wanted ME? I had no idea but i was loving it.

Soon we became best friends, we hanged out literally everyday and shit.

And then we became "friends with benefits" lmao. I was in love with him, and he couldn't choose between me and another person (that i won't say the name. today he is one of my best friends).

All of my close friends at the time warned me about Dave. How he treated me badly, how rude he was with me, how he was using me. But i thought that i was in love and ignored everything.

And two months passed like that. I slept in his house 3 times a week. I spent all weekends with him, i drank too much and i started smoking like an idiot.

And one day, after a huge fight me and Dave had, my dad said that my family was going to move to another state.

I called Dave immediately, and went to his house.

Only then we started dating. Because i was going away in two months, suddenly he was ok with dating me.

Adam was terrible and i was so unhappy.

Before we started dating, and even after that, i never had the right to say "no".

It was never about me. What i wanted. What i could give. What i was able to give.

I would come to his house, drunk, and he would ignore that i could not truly give consent and make me do whatever he wanted me to do.

I never felt loved.

My body was not mine. I had no right to control my own body.

I was with someone that would not accept a "no". I was with someone that would threaten to kill himself if i hurted him. I was with someone that said that he would kil me, and beat me, if i didn't do as he told.

He hit me once. And even after that, i didn't break up with him. And as always, he never, NEVER, apologized.

I was, again, in a relationship that taught me nothing about consent, respect and limitations. And it was destroying me without me noticing it.

But two months later, the day came and o moved. Even so the abuse didn't stop there.

He kept emotionally manipulating me, making me feel guilty for not being there. He said that i wasnt the person that he thought that i would be. That i never helped him and never made him happy. He said that i didn't truly love him.

Eventually, we parted ways. He stoped sending me messages and i stopped trying to be there.

I felt empty, and loveless, and it was like i had failed. I felt like i wasn't enough. I failed because i wasn't able to give enough of myself to him.

And now, a couple of months ago.

Someone on twitter mentioned AFTG and i didn't have anything better to do.

I fell in love with the book. I did. But there were so many triggers and had to take it slow.

I KNOW it sounds like I'm reading too deep into it, but please understand.

When i saw the way that Andrew and Neil interacted, as two different individuals, with different needs and different limitations, i was devastated.

I could not handle seeing how respectful and caring they were about each others triggers and traumas.

How Neil respected every single "no".

And how Andrew was able to say "no" without caring about what Neil would feel.

Because, when you say "no", it's for you, you're respecting yourself. And if your special someone can't undestand and respect that, they're not worth it.

I didn't understand that. To be honest, I'm still having a hard time to think about everything that happened to me like it was "harassment" or "assault".

I didn't say yes, but i also didn't say no

And, again, I'm sorry if it seems like I'm reading too deep into it.

Andrew and Neil have this "yes or no" think that left me speechless.

How can someone just respect you so much that they won't touch you unless you give clear permission?

I cried too much, and had enough panic attacks while i was reading the books. There were too many triggers but i kept going because i felt like i needed to.

I never had thought that, when you're drunk, you can't give consent. I never worried about that because no one worried about me when i was drunk. No one asked me anything.

The idea of having someone that will understand if you don't want to be touched, somone that will stay there and wait inutil you're okay, someone that loves you enough to respect if you're not ok... it was too much. Really.

Suddenly all of my relationship with my ex was passing in front of my eyes and i finally saw how abusive it was. How much he didn't care. How i trusted someone that couldn't give a shit about what i was feeling.

It's not that i didn't knew it was abusive. But seeing a relationship so opposite, like Andreil, was a chock.

"All For The Game" brought up things that usually are ignored.

Even if the trilogy is not focused on Andreil, the amount of importance that it puts in "consenting", is amazing.

I started to think about me and my body and how i was treating myself.

And how much i wanted someone that will respect me and love me and take care of me.

It sound dumb but I'm truly grateful. All For The Game is just fiction. But it talks about serious matters with a respectful and realistic approach.

It's "just a book" but it showed me a kind of relationship that i never saw. It affected me.

This is a huge vent because i had a panick attack during my therapy session and i needed to write it.

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 20

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

(Last round, everyone!)

_______________

The pub wasn’t very crowded on a Wednesday night. Maybe a third of the tables and half the stools at the bar were occupied. Indie-Rock music was coming from the speakers, a backdrop to clinking glasses and pleasant conversations in seemingly countless languages.

Outside the windows, the setting sun was largely hidden behind clouds, but darkness was yet to set in. The lights in the pub were slightly dimmed to create a cozy atmosphere, accentuated by the Nordic decorations and laughter all around.

It was pleasantly warm inside, a stark contrast to the chilly air of late October, with cold winds coming in from the sea.

“Yes! Bullseye!” Astrid went to pull her three arrows out of the dartboard and accepted the two bottles of Kaldi Blonde, a local Icelandic beer, from Hiccup as he took his turn. They were standing in a corner of the pub, competing in their third game of darts. After she’d won the first two rounds, he was determined to win this one. But he would have to catch up to her first. The first arrow hit the triple twenty and he cheered, throwing her a victorious smirk.

“Don’t celebrate too soon, I’m still ahead of you!”

“Oh no, I’m going to destroy you,” he countered, squinting at the board and shifting his stance a little. With one smooth throw, the arrow landed slightly higher to the right of the first one, counting one point.

“Ha!”

He stuck out his tongue at her in response as he lined up his third throw. An excited buzz was flowing through her veins, mind completely at ease and a warm feeling in her chest – the usual for spending time with her boyfriend. She noticed him making his cute, concentrated face where he pressed his lips together and dedicated his entire focus in a single direction. Hiccup threw the arrow and for a split-second, it looked like it would hit another triple twenty, but it bounced off the first arrow and flew through the room.

She laughed at his wide-eyed expression as he scrambled after the arrow and crawled underneath a table to retrieve it.

“Did the board count that?” he asked as he poked his head out between two chairs.

“Nope,” she answered after a quick look at the electric board, “and I’m still ahead of you!”

He was grumbling something as he stood again, wiping a bit of dust off his arrow, and she was raising her bottle to her lips with a grin when she suddenly stopped mid-motion. Hiccup came to take the beers from her so she could start her turn, but then frowned at her. “What is it?”

A thought had just occurred to her, hitting her right in the chest, spreading through her entire body like electrically charged lava. She met his quizzical eyes, so green in the dimmed lights of the pub. Even after all this time, they still had the same effect on her.

“Astrid?” He briefly touched her still raised hand to get her attention and the same old spark jumped over her skin as if he was touching her for the first time. It was as if she had taken off the thick glasses that made everything look hazy – no, she realized, she’d taken them off quite some time ago, but only now had she noticed. Everything was clear all of a sudden, and she felt light, her heart jumping into her throat.

“Let’s get married,” she blurted out, a huge grin spreading on her face.

“W-what?” Hiccup was taken aback, staring at her with a slight gape.

“Let’s get married,” she repeated.

“You- But- I- Why—” he stammered, a million thoughts scurrying over his expression.

She crossed her arms. “Well, why do you think?”

He blinked, still in surprise. “You… You changed your mind? When?”

“Just now.”

Slowly, his gape morphed into a wide, blinding smile as he scooped her up in his arms and spun her around before setting her down again and holding her close, foreheads pressed together. She almost forgot about the drinks in her hand, nearly dropping the bottles. “And you’re really sure about this?”

“Yes.” Goosebumps broke out over her entire body as she looked into his eyes and saw her reflection in them mirror the unbridled joy and love building and crashing between them like a tsunami wave. Why had she taken so long to realize her fears had been stupid all along? Sure, they had come from a real place, but in this very moment, past Astrid was nothing more than a ghost fading into nothingness somewhere in the smallest corner of present Astrid.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Without breaking eye contact, she set the beers down on the next table and kissed him, long and deep, before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the exit. “Let’s do it!”

He hesitated, stopping after a few steps. “What, you mean right now?”

“Yeah.” She furrowed her brows. “I’m sure there’s some place in Reykjavík that marries people.”

“Um… Astrid, this isn’t Vegas. You can’t just go to a nearby chapel, sign a form and get hitched.”

“You don’t know unless you go look for it.” She crossed her arms, a shadow falling over her boundless excited energy. “And then, once we find something, we can go first thing tomorrow and–”

“First thing tomorrow? I don’t think it’s that easy, hon.” He tried a smile, but it only flickered shortly before disappearing again. “Like I said, this isn’t Vegas. We’re on a completely different continent than Vegas. We can’t just go and get married.”

“Since when are you such a pessimist?”

“What? I’m not a pessimist, I’m being realistic here.”

She smiled lopsidedly. “Since when are you a realist? Where’s my there’s-no-way-we-can’t-train-the-neighbor’s-dog-to-bring-us-the-newspaper-Hiccup?”

He shrugged with one shoulder but didn’t answer, glancing right past her, not meeting her eyes. Her shoulders sagged along with her excitement. “You don’t want to.”

“I do! I really do!” he hurried to say. “But…”

“But what?” she inquired when he trailed off.

With slow steps, he reached her, taking her hands in his. “Look. Why don’t we wait until we’re back home?”

“Why? Why not go and at least scout our options? I thought you of all people would agree there.”

He took a deep breath. “Because I want you to have a chance to change your mind.”

Surprised, she took a step back. “Why would I change my mind? This was my idea!”

“I… I don’t…” He struggled to find the right words for a minute. “I don’t want you to go through with something you realize you don’t want after all, just because you made a decision and are too stubborn to admit it’s not what you want.”

“But I just said–”

“I don’t want you to regret your decision,” he said with a pressing look in his eyes that conveyed more than his words did, and she understood. She’d once made a decision she’d regretted later on – in a very similar context. Despite her initial disappointment and correlating annoyance, she felt a stream of liquid cocoa encircle her heart like a moat.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and squeezed his hands. After a moment, she felt him relax, his chin resting on her head. For his consideration alone, she wanted to drag him through the city and find at least Reykjavík’s city hall. But as much as she wanted to elope right here, right now, she could wait. Besides, they were going to be here for another two weeks, that was plenty of time she could use to change his mind.

With a small sigh, she lifted her head and pecked his cheek. “Alright. Now let me continue with destroying you at darts.”

Hours later, when they were lying in their hotel bed, she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, squeezing her eyes shut until she felt dizzy, but to no avail. Not even Hiccup’s calm breathing next to her and the peaceful expression on his face were helping, and that usually lulled her to sleep like nothing else could. But not tonight.

Reaching over to the nightstand, she turned on her phone and blinked at the sudden bright light. Darkening the screen as far as possible, she typed a few key words into the search bar and spent the next hour researching. And Hiccup had been right. This wasn’t Vegas. She needed documents, not just copies but originals, and she needed time, two weeks in advance at the bare minimum. And money, too. And rings. And a warm dress and tux. And an officiant. And a place.

Now, some of those things weren’t that hard to obtain, and the costs weren’t nearly as high as she’d feared (seriously, she’d paid more for their big fridge), but she’d have to hand in all the necessary documents immediately if she wanted to make this possible. But as long as Hiccup wasn’t on board, for whatever reason, she could forget about the whole thing.

Swallowing her disappointment, she put her phone aside and turned to look at her boyfr– no, wait, fiancé! She and Hiccup were engaged now! Not with an official ring, but what did that matter? Engaged meant engaged. They both agreed to marry the other. To spend a life together, not just in practice, but in every sense of the word. Officially, legally, bindingly, finally.

The buzzing returned to her chest, and suddenly, it was easy to sink into her pillow and fall asleep. Because just as easily, she realized that time and place didn’t matter. They could always come back or travel somewhere else to get married. Hell, they could pay a few bucks to someone at the airport and take care of any legal requirements later – weren’t pilots allowed to marry people? Or did that only apply to ship captains? But before she could finish that thought, she was already out like a light.

All of her nightly deliberation, though, couldn’t stop her from not-so-coincidentally walking past a shop for wedding clothes on their stroll through the city the next day. Hiccup just shook his head with a fond smile and followed her inside. She could already look, right? And there was no way she’d wear the same dress to her second wedding.

She wasn’t usually one to enjoy shopping for clothes like other women did – if she needed something, she’d go get it, not aimlessly walk through a hundred stores without purpose – this place felt like heaven. Maybe it stemmed from her excitement, maybe it was the rows upon rows of cream and white (and the occasional black or green) that made her feel like she was surrounded by clouds. Brocade, lace, tulle, ornaments with golden or silver threads woven in, all kinds of different lengths and sizes and cuts. She felt a little overwhelmed until she figured out the system in which the dresses were hung.

While Hiccup was chatting with a sales assistant somewhere over by the tuxedo pants, she walked past a row of short summer dresses, running her fingers through the layers of fabric, marveling at the needlework that must have gone into all the fine details in the adornments.

Turning a corner, she found the section for warmer clothes. Winter dresses with long sleeves and thick layers that still managed to look delicate, matching bolero jackets, thick tights that would be invisible underneath the beautiful skirts, even light winter boots that went with certain dresses. Astrid wanted to try them all on. But quickly running the numbers in her head and converting currencies, she had to turn her back on probably half the display.

With pleasant music in the background, a small table with water, orange juice, champagne and snacks nearby, and a friendly sales woman offering her assistance, Astrid figured it was a good thing she and Hiccup didn’t have any set plans for the rest of the day.

Edda, the sales woman, greeted her with an enthusiastic energy, rubbing her hands together and asking Astrid for her preferences. Then she weaseled back and forth between the rows, picking out dress after dress, matching jackets, scarfs, shoes, shawls, fur capes and elegant ponchos. Whenever Astrid had put on one dress, Edda was already back with another.

And they were all so, so beautiful. But they either didn’t quite fit, were too expensive, or just simply weren’t her style. About half an hour into their fitting session, Hiccup was waiting for her lounging in a chair when she came out of the fitting room in a long layered dress with puffy sleeves and a high collar, not unlike Lady Diana’s dress. It had looked great on its hanger (and on Lady Di), but on Astrid? Well, when Hiccup saw her and started laughing, she just rolled her eyes with a defeated sigh and didn’t even wait for Edda to come back before peeling herself out of the monstrosity.

Two hours passed with just the blink of an eye. For a while, she didn’t even see Hiccup in-between getting in and out of dresses. She wasn’t even sure if he was still in the store, but she couldn’t blame him. She was completely drained and had stopped counting after dress number twenty. Seemed like Edda could tell because she suggested a break when Astrid refused to give up and come back another day.

Downing an entire glass of champagne in one go, she wearily wiped a hand over her face. She wanted to find a dress, the sooner the better, because then she had more ammunition to throw at Hiccup who still insisted they didn’t get married until they were back home.

She put down her empty glass and strolled through the store, side-eyeing every dress she’d tried on so far. Some of them had been really pretty. Maybe if she took them to a tailor to make some last-minute changes…?

Just for the sake of it, she took a look at the dresses with the horrendously high price tags. From within the masses, a full-length, sleeveless white silk dress with a lace collar caught her eye. It had a broad sash with intricate Celtic-Nordic ornaments woven in with golden thread. It felt impossibly soft and looked incredibly comfortable. But what was worst was that it seemed to be her exact size.

“That is beautiful,” a voice behind her said and from out of nowhere, Hiccup reappeared. He stepped closer, running a hand up and down her back.

“Yeah,” she sighed and carefully hung it back. “But way too expensive.”

“You could try it on and I’ll convince Edda that you’re meant to have it because no other person will look as beautiful in it as you.” He rested his chin on her shoulder and hugged her from behind. “Maybe she’s superstitious, too, and will believe me when I tell her you’re a goddess or a fairy in disguise and this dress can be her offering to you.”

“Solid plan, babe,” she said with a grin. “You know what? I’ll try it on for you. And for me, because it’s gorgeous and I want to.”

“That’s the spirit.” He let go of her so she could take the dress back to the fitting room.

It was perfect.

For a full minute, she marveled at her own reflection in the huge mirror. The dress fit like a second skin, as if it had been made specially for her. She ran her hands over the fabric, so soft and of such a high quality, the price almost seemed too low, even.

She pulled the curtain aside and stepped out of the room, feeling like the goddess Hiccup had offered to sell her as. And boy, did he think the same, judging by the gape and the wide eyes and the adoring smile that spread over his face following the first shock.

“Wow.” His voice was almost breathless. “I… Wow. Now I want to make you an offering, oh mighty goddess of… of…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Astrid took pride in being the only one who could cause that in him. (Well, she and one dress. But that was it.)

“Oh, you found one!” Neither she nor Hiccup had noticed Edda come back. “Turn around, let me see.” Astrid turned for Edda, the fabric flowing around her ankles. “Wonderful, wonderful!”

“But way too much…” Astrid fingered with the price tag, already heading back to the fitting room before she could do something stupid like empty her entire savings account for this, but Edda motioned for her to wait.

“This dress is part of our next big sale. If you’re still here two weeks from now, it can be yours for a third of the price. Provided that no one else buys it before you.”

Astrid bit her lip and exchanged a glance with Hiccup. If she already couldn’t have her impromptu wedding in Iceland, she at least wanted the dress.

“I’ll take that chance,” she announced, earning approving nods from both Edda and Hiccup.

Step one: check.

But Hiccup was stubborn. The following days, she kept talking his ear off about extending their vacation and finding a way to get their documents here without traveling back first.

“Astrid, we’re in a different country,” he argued. “Let’s go home first and, when the lenses of the romantic vacation are gone, see what’s the plan then.”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Hiccup, I don’t know how often I have to say that until you believe me.”

But he was relentless. Not even her ploy to convince him by trying on the dress every time they walked past the store worked. She even found matching warm shoes and a beautiful white faux-fur coat that looked like a cape with sleeves and made her feel like a Viking queen. She also knew what she’d do with her hair, picking out a flower crown from a florist and a matching one for Hiccup the first chance she got. But he kept talking about how they could find these things in Berk or maybe have them shipped home.

The only thing they did without hesitation was buy the rings. They’d just come back from a four-day trip across the island when they walked past a jeweler’s display window. Infected with a prenuptial spirit, they spent the rest of the afternoon in a café, hunched over Hiccup’s sketchbook, before they went back to order their own personalized wedding rings. It made the whole ordeal feel absolutely final, but their time on this vacation was slowly running out and Hiccup still didn’t budge. Which was frustrating.

And then, less than a week before the sale, the dress was gone. Along with their chance to just bribe someone to marry them without all the legal necessities. She was grumpy for the entire day.

The next morning, she had sort of accepted her fate, directing her energy into making plans with Hiccup for a winter wedding and a party once they got home. It wouldn’t be as soon as she’d hoped it could happen, and much of their plans hinged on it snowing a lot, but the buzzing excitement was back in no time. And with it, her good mood.

Which is why she didn’t waste any energy on what could have been when the last day of their vacation dawned. After breakfast at the hotel, they took their rental car outside the city and spent the day at the coast, walking hand in hand along the cliffs and picnicking down at the beach sheltered in the shadow of a tall rock formation, with sandwiches, cookies and a thermos of hot tea.

They watched the sunset up by the edge of a cliff, huddled closely together on their camping chairs, listening to the waves at the bottom of the cliff, climbing and crashing back down. The wind was subsiding and the clouds were parting, and Astrid felt as if she was at the edge of the world, just her and Hiccup. It was still cold, though, and she adjusted her hat and scarf to properly cover her ears and neck. Then she reached over and took Hiccup’s gloved fingers in hers, resting their hands on the arms of the adjoined chairs. She felt him squeeze her hand and look at her from the side.

“What?”

His expression was thoughtful. “You haven’t changed your mind yet?”

She sighed in fond exasperation and leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes against a low sunbeam. “No, you muttonhead. I want to marry you. That has absolutely nothing to do with us being on vacation. I don’t know how that even got into that thick skull of yours.”

For a few minutes, he was quiet. Then he pressed a kiss to her temple and hesitantly leaned his head against hers. “Too bad that it did, because we could have been married by now.”

She sat up and socked him on the arm, ignoring his yelp. “Yes, we could have been! I could also have owned my perfect wedding dress by now.” She crossed her arms and added with a low grumble, “Let’s hope the rings are really done by tomorrow morning. I don’t want to pay a shipping fee if they aren’t, they were expensive enough already.”

“Don’t worry, I checked with them this morning, we can pick them up first thing tomorrow.”

The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon when she glanced back at him, absentmindedly playing with his fingers. “Did you really think I’d change my mind about you?”

He shrugged, keeping his eyes trained on the endless sea. In the now quickly dying light, it became harder to read his expression. “It’s not like I didn’t believe you when you said you were sure about it. I just...” He went quiet again, lips pressed together, but she didn’t take her eyes off him, waiting for him to continue. Then he looked at her, and in the near-darkness, his eyes were like a beacon, shining with emotions, open and raw and honest and vulnerable.

“I guess I was afraid.”

“Of what? Me changing my mind?” She frowned.

“Yeah. I mean… What if you start feeling trapped again? Like this is not the life you want?” His voice was almost a whisper, almost part of the wind grazing their cheeks, painting them red. “When you realize marrying me was the wrong decision. You said you were sure, but wasn’t that what you’d thought last time?”

Oh. Oh. So that… That was…

“Oh, Hiccup.” She enveloped him with both arms and pressed a lingering kiss to his mouth. “You could have just said that, you know. Then I could have told you way earlier that you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”

“I know you love me,” he continued, “but you also loved Eret and–”

“Not like this,” she interrupted him. “With Eret, everything was... easy. Pleasant. When I looked at our relationship from the outside, it made sense. But it took me a long time to figure out that I needed so much more than that. I’ve told you many times how it felt when I met you. You turned everything I thought I knew about love upside down, and about what I wanted, what I needed. The only reason I didn’t marry you way earlier is a fear I now know is irrelevant. Because I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you, only ever you.”

“Hm,” he made after a minute, trying a smile, “I guess your fear rubbed off on me a little.”

“It was a real fear, but like I said, I’m over it now. Because I know exactly what I want and because I know that it will be different this time, because I have not even the tiniest of doubts about you, I never had.” She regarded him with creased brows and a suddenly tight chest. “Do you?”

He vehemently shook his head. “No. I could have married you on the spot that day, you know, in the rain. I can’t imagine ever loving anyone else like that.”

“Good, then we’re on the same page. Next time, just talk to me, you muttonhead!”

A long sigh escaped him, as if he was releasing all the tension at once that he’d felt ever since she’d announced that she wanted to marry him, for real. “I’m sorry. I should have said something.”

“I know. It’s alright.” She leaned her head on his shoulder again, a starry sky above them the only light source for miles. One of the only clouds left in the sky gave way to the moon, or rather what little was visible of it, its crescent shape resembling a thin scythe.

“Good to know you’re still on board, though,” Hiccup mumbled and by the sound of it, he was far away with his thoughts.

Astrid fumbled her phone out of her pocket with stiff fingers, pulling up a weather forecast. “Looks like it’s gonna be a clear sky tonight. Hey, maybe we’ll finally get to see the lights!” It was one of the main reasons they’d chosen Iceland as their destination, after all. And so far, the sky had never been clear enough for the real experience.

“Yes, maybe.” Hiccup rose out of his chair with a groan. “But first, we should get back to the hotel, pack our suitcases, warm up, have dinner… Maybe not in that order.”

She hummed as she followed him back to the car, carrying her folded chair over one shoulder. “I’m sure we can think of a good way or two to warm ourselves up.”

_______________

After dinner, Astrid got a call from the jeweler that they could come pick up their rings immediately, even though they were already closed – someone would still be there to lock up, waiting for them. Hiccup offered to go get the rings while Astrid kept packing up their stuff. That didn’t take very long, though, as she was a very efficient packer, so she changed into her sweatpants and lounged on the bed while video-calling Ruffnut for a while.

Her phone was leaning against the lamp on the nightstand while charging, with Astrid sitting cross-legged on the bed, braiding and un-braiding her hair without paying much attention to what she was doing.

Ruff’s grand advice was to just put the rings on their fingers and call it a day. “No one cares about your signature on a piece of paper, dude. Just call yourself Mrs. Haddock from now on, or Mrs. Hofferson-Haddock, or call him Mr. Hofferson, whatever, who cares.”

“If we just wanted it to be symbolic, we could have done it already. But we want the real, official thing. The legal thing.”

Ruff let out a loud belch, crinkling the can of cheap beer in her hand. “Why? That sounds boring.”

Astrid repeatedly combed through a thick strand of hair that had a particularly large knot in it. With a frown, she picked loose hair from her clothes. “It’s not boring. It’s binding. Besides, there’s, like, a million other things that come with legal marriage. Like sharing property. Or tax benefits.”

“Tax benefits, huh? Maybe I should get married, too. Does your fiancé have any single friends? How about that Fishlegs guy? He’s nice.”

“Absolutely not! You cannot marry Fishlegs!

“Why not?” Ruffnut whined.

“Because like you said, he’s nice, and I don’t want you corrupting him. You can have Snotlout if you want, I think he’d be a much better match for you, anyway.”

“Eh.” Ruff shrugged. “He’s a little too small for my taste, but I guess for tax benefits, he’ll do.”

Astrid heard a key turn in the door. “Okay, Ruff, I gotta go now, Hiccup’s back. We’re gonna go see the northern lights.”

“A’ight, see ya. Send ring picks!”

“Sure. Bye, Ruff.” She leaned forward to end the call before shuffling around on the bed to face Hiccup. “That took a long time. What’s in the bag?” With him, he had a huge, plain white plastic bag that was closed with a zipper.

“First of all, I got the rings,” he said while taking off his shoes and jacket, carefully setting the bag down on the floor, leaning it against the wall when it tipped over. Whatever was inside, it had no particularly distinct shape.

“And what have you got in the bag?” She stood from the bed and walked over, but Hiccup caught her hand and pulled her back into the room.

“You’re very nosy. Rings first.”

There was a small black box in his hand. Inside, on a white velvet pillow, rested two silver bands. Carefully, he took them out, placing them in her palm. Hers had a tiny blue stone inserted and on the inside, Hiccup’s initials were engraved next to blank space where the date of their wedding would go once they knew when it was. His was adorned with a dark green stone and her initials. Surrounding the stone on each ring were very fine lines that made a pattern not unlike the one on the sash of what Astrid still considered her dress, although it would never be hers now.

She turned the rings, held them up in the light, and finally slid hers on her finger. It fit like a glove. “It’s perfect.”

“It is,” Hiccup agreed and gently pulled it from her finger. “But it’s going back into the box for now.”

Suppressing a sigh as he set the box aside – she’d get to proudly wear it soon enough –, her eyes wandered back to the white mystery bag. “Now what’s with that?”

Hiccup was at the bag in one quick jump, guarding it from her. “Before you open this, I just want to tell you how hard it was for me to keep this a secret. Do you know how many times I’ve been just short of blurting it out?”

“This sounds like a rhetorical question, so I’ll just…” She made a grab for the bag, but Hiccup snatched it from her, wiggling a mock-reprimanding finger in her face.

“You’re so impatient. And don’t stick your tongue out at me, missy!” He probably read her stance right and correctly deduced she was about to wrestle him for the bag, because he took a step back and held up his hand, expression changing into a smile that made his eyes shine. “You can see this as a substitute for an engagement ring.”

Heart pounding in her chest, she accepted the bag when he handed it to her, setting it down on the bed and sliding the zipper open. A soft gasp escaped her. “But this is…”

“Your outfit for tonight.”

She looked up, finding him wringing his hands nervously. “Tonight?”

He nodded. “That is, if you’re up for it?”

“Hiccup, what are you talking about?” Her heart was still pounding. Did this mean what she thought it meant? But how? “Wait, did you plan this all along?”

“I uh… Maybe?” He flashed her a shy grin. “I told myself I’d wait until the end of our vacation to see if you changed your mind – yes, don’t look at me like that, I know I shouldn’t have worried in the first place – but I couldn’t tell you that earlier today because then the surprise would have been gone. Besides, the rings weren’t ready yet and the dress was too expensive – by the way, I had it put on layaway until the sale started, which is today, so I just picked it up, and I have your boots and cape as well in there.”

He was now in full motion, talking fast and with his entire body, “And then I had to wait for the documents to arrive because they said the copies were fine for processing but they needed the originals for legal purposes. They arrived five days ago, just in time, although actually, the certification of marital status would have had to be handed in eight weeks ago, but they made an exception in this case, but not officially, of course – I didn’t bribe anyone, I just told them our story and they loved it. I already took care of everything; whenever you were in the shower or trying on dresses or when I went to the store to sneak drinks into the hotel or remember when I insisted on sleeping in and you slept until noon? I always snuck away to make calls or hand in documents. Now all we need to do is sign the papers.”

She blinked, her mind catching up to everything that had just come out of him like the Mosárfoss waterfall. “So all my nagging these past weeks has been for nothing?”

“Actually, I’d say the opposite. It was great reassurance.”

She seriously didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or scream or everything at once. He’d planned all this, without telling her, in case she’d change her mind about getting married, despite her constantly talking his ear off about it. It sounded incredibly stupid. But then again, he knew about her history, and she’d told him about her fear of trapping herself in an unhappy life because she thought she’d failed, somehow. He didn’t want to be the reason she ever felt like that again.

Wiping a hand over her face, she walked up to him, punched his arm and pulled him into a fierce hug. “You know, I would have been fine without a grand surprise. In fact, if you’d told me about this earlier at the cliffs, it would’ve been just as much of a surprise.”

“Hm, but I didn’t have the dress yet and it almost looked like the rings would be too late.” His arms came around her middle. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed after all if it hadn’t worked out.”

She pulled back to look at him. “How did you even get the documents?”

He shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Like everyone else would. I called your ex-husband, naturally.”

“Ah,” she chuckled. “I knew it was a good idea to keep him around, eventually he had to be good for something.”

“Yeah, well, turns out he was good for making it possible for his ex-wife to elope on vacation.” He lifted his chin and made a show out of ceremoniously clearing his throat. “So, Astrid Hofferson. Will you marry me tonight under the northern lights?”

Biting her lip to keep the glee from breaking out over her face, she turned away. “Nah, I changed my mind.”

After a beat, he groaned, “You have a very cruel sense of humor, you know that?”

“Maybe you deserve it.” Then she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She spun back around, finding Hiccup already right behind her, throwing his arms around her and lifting her from the ground. “Okay, yes, yes I will!”

After spinning her around once or twice, he put her back down and, with a barely concealed grin, shrugged and stepped to the side. “Too bad, now I’ve changed my mind.”

She grabbed the next best thing to throw at him, which was the pair of jeggings she planned on wearing on the plane tomorrow, and flung it right at him, hitting him square in the face.”Don’t you dare say that later! I will personally make sure to push you off the next cliff if you do.” She took the dress out of the bag, spreading it on the bed to make sure it wasn’t crinkled. But whoever had packed the bag had known what they were doing. Everything looked flawless.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” Hiccup retaliated, “I’ll bring my parachute.”

Underneath the dress, she found the faux-fur coat and the elegant cream-colored winter boots. And at the bottom of the bag, there was a neatly folded matching suit for Hiccup. She spread everything next to the dress. “Hey, let’s go paragliding or skydiving on our honeymoon! Where do you want to go?”

He picked a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger. “I hear Iceland’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Very funny, babe.” She pecked his cheek, then dashed over to the bathroom. “I claim the shower first, my hair takes longer!”

_______________

They were scheduled to meet with the officiator a little further than a half-hour ride outside Reykjavík. While Astrid had been singing happy tunes in the shower, Hiccup had called the wedding planning organization he’d been in contact with over the whole legal process and given them the green light for tonight.

Now they were on their way to the site, driving themselves to their own wedding, sitting in a rental jeep in winter wedding attire (the flower crown looked very cute on Hiccup), ring box stored away safely in the glove compartment. The first minutes of the drive, it wasn’t clear who was more antsy, Astrid with her jiggly legs or Hiccup with his constant blabbering.

But then he put on a playlist consisting of Coldplay, U2, Imagine Dragons, and the first two songs they ever danced to together on that rainy Sunday, and singing along to the upbeat music gave them an opportunity to lose some of their nervous energy. Hiccup explained his sentiment behind putting November Rain on the playlist, which made her reflect on how far they’d come since Dagur’s now infamous 30th birthday party.

Lowering her window a bit – not willing to risk the air stream messing up her hair, even though she was wearing it loose, with only her flower crown on top –, she sang into the early night. “It’s a beautiful daaaay! Don’t let it get away!” The concept of fears and doubts and heartbreak seemed foreign to her, the world was a magical place and she was only an hour away from making the best decision of her life so far.

Closing the window when the air rushing in became a bit too fresh, she took out her phone and sent an all-caps text to her parents: ‘CHILL THE CHAMPAGNE CAUSE I’M ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING!!!!!!!’ For good measure, she added a string of heart emojis, stars, and a champagne bottle. She considered also adding a bride emoji, but decided to let her parents stew a little over the meaning of her message. She pictured them sitting at home on the couch, speculating– And there it was already, not five minutes later, the inquiring big question mark her father sent into the chat.

Purposefully switching her phone to airplane mode, she flung it onto the backseat and leaned forward as something in the sky caught her eye, something green and purple dancing high above. The aurora borealis. For the first time on this entire vacation, they finally got to see them for real, without thick clouds blocking the sky. She agreed with Chris Martin. This was para, para, paradise!

Their breaths came out visible in the cold air when they exited the car and walked the remaining few hundred feet to the bank of a lake. It wasn’t far from the cliffs, the sound of crashing waves a steady backdrop to the comparatively tiny waves of the lake lapping at their own shore. Hiccup grabbed her hand and she held onto his tightly.

She didn’t spot the two people waiting for them at first, too distracted by the wonderful display of dancing colors all above and mirrored on the almost still surface of the water. She understood why they’d come all the way out here. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

Atali, the woman who would officiate their little ceremony, and Throk, her assistant who was setting up a few lights and a table with chairs, gave them a warm welcome and offered them both a variety of hot drinks before Atali spread the contents of a thin binder on the table. It was their documents, including a certificate that already had tomorrow’s date on it.

“We’re going to start shortly before midnight so you can say your I do’s right after the beginning of the new day,” Atali explained. Underneath the table, Hiccup gave Astrid’s hand a squeeze. “Now I need to know if you chose to change or keep your last names.” She raised her brows expectantly.

Astrid squeezed Hiccup’s hand right back. “I told him that, should we ever get married, I’d take his. So yes, I’ll change mine.” The look he gave her as Atali neatly wrote their names down on the paper made her heart skip at least a full beat. They were actually going to do this. She waited for a knot in her stomach, a nagging doubt in the back of her head, but she found nothing. She was all in.

While waiting for the time to start the ceremony, huddled together over cups of hot mead, Atali asked them to recap how they met and what made them decide to tie the knot here in Iceland. When Astrid mentioned her issues with admitting to failure, Atali told her about the Icelandic way of thinking: “Here, failure is something that receives applause. Us Icelanders will congratulate you when you fail and encourage you to try again.” It was certainly something to think about, Astrid figured.

When Hiccup wondered if many foreigners came here to get married, Atali explained, “Lots of couples find that a big traditional wedding at home isn’t for them, so they book a wedding program with us. Some then come alone, some bring up to a hundred guests.”

Astrid thought of her entire family tagging along for this and instantly knew what she preferred. Hiccup seemed to have read her mind. “It feels much more intimate like this, with just us,” he said. “Besides, we’re going to have a party with our people back home, anyway.”

She nodded. “And if not, then they’re going to throw it for us, whether we like it or not.” She looked at Hiccup with a knowing grin. “And your dad will be the first to sign up.”

“Oh shit, my dad!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t even tell them we’re doing this.”

“Don’t worry, I also just sent my parents a more or less cryptic message. They’re brooding over it right now, arguing over whether or not it means what they think it means.”

Throk laughed. “Are you planning on video-calling them afterwards? Some couples do and the reactions are usually priceless.”

Envisioning her mother’s surprise, followed by chastising questions about why nobody told her, and Hiccup’s dad’s booming, proud voice, she only briefly missed them on this important day. But Hiccup was right, it felt so much more special without anyone else around.

She was glad her coat and boots were so thick, or else she’d have felt frozen over by the time Atali asked them to stand and come over to the lake. Heart beating in her throat, she clutched Hiccup’s hand even tighter. Ever since they’d exited the car, she’d not let go of it once, using him as an anchor to keep her from succumbing to her nerves and jumping into the lake. She’d been nervous on her first wedding day, too, but for an entirely different reason.

Throk changed the angle of the light so that Atali could read her notes. The dancing colors in the sky illuminated everything else enough. Astrid stood in front of Hiccup who took her other hand as well. She noticed her fingers were cold but his were warm, and she was reminded of her physics lessons back in school, learning about electric circuits and leads and connections. Whatever power it was that connected them so strongly, she felt it flow through their hands and into her belly and chest.

Atali welcomed them again and started the ceremony. She began by citing various definitions for love and marriage and life itself, continued that she didn’t believe in the one true definition for any of those concepts. She told them stories of other couples she’d married, from every part of the world, with all kinds of different histories, who all had a different understanding of love and life. In the end, she said, true love was what the couple made of it.

“Do you want to say your own vows,” she asked, “or do you want me to directly continue with the rings?”

The lights in the sky were reflecting in Hiccup’s eyes as he regarded Astrid. “I’d like to say a few things.” He looked at their hands for a moment before meeting her eyes again, focused on nothing but her. “As a child, thunderstorms used to wake me up in the middle of the night. Even now, I sometimes wake up, expecting thunder and rain, but there’s no storm outside, it’s just you, sleeping next to me. And when you look at me, I can still feel the reverberations of the lightning bolt that struck me the moment we locked eyes for the first time. And I feel it now, too. It’s been almost two and a half years since you first told me you love me and I’m still in awe...” He paused to take a shaky breath.

“Astrid, you make me believe in myself like no one else can. Whenever I’m facing a wall or- or I’m stuck in my own mind, I can always count on you to be there. Sometimes, you don’t even need to say anything. I just have to look into your eyes and I now that everything will be okay. Without you, I’d stumble my way through life with no clue or guidance. With you, I know I’m not alone. And now, as I’m standing here with you, I don’t even feel the cold. I just feel you.”

His words were crawling underneath her skin, creating goosebumps wherever they went. She had to hold back the urge to grab him by the collar and kiss those magical lips of his senseless. When she opened her mouth to speak, everything that came out was a hoarse croak. She didn’t notice the amused smile shared between Atali and Throk as she cleared her throat and tried again.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t always know what I’m doing. Usually, when I face a problem, I just look at it like it is and take action. It doesn’t always work out. And sometimes I make plans, but then someone comes along, makes a mess of the whole thing and makes me question everything I ever thought I wanted from my life. How could I have known that I would one day consider that the best thing that’s ever happened to me?”

She gulped. How was she the one holding back tears? But as she looked more closely, she noticed the shimmer in his eyes that told her he wasn’t faring any differently. “With you, I don’t always have to be strong. I can break and know that it’s alright. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. I love the way your mind works. I love the way you look at the world and see possibilities where other people don’t think to look. I love how you make me see things in a different light. I love how you help me be the best version of myself.”

Despite the hot pools of tears threatening to spill over, she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes away from him. “And I never want to miss that feeling. That’s why I’m here, with you, as I promise I will always be. No matter what life throws at us, I will always be by your side.” Her voice gave out and even if she’d wanted to say more, she wouldn’t have been able to without breaking out into sobs. Hiccup did that to her.

After giving them a minute to let their words take effect and giving them a chance to gather themselves, Atali nodded at Throk to hand over the rings. “Are you ready to go on?”

Communicating with nothing more than a look, the couple nodded. Hiccup briefly let go of one of her hands to wipe at his eyes, catching her wide-eyed smile that mirrored his own thrilled anticipation. She was glad they didn’t have a big audience for this. Then again, she doubted she’d have registered anyone else while he was looking at her like this, painting her insides technicolor with his words.

Atali motioned for Hiccup to take the first ring and solemnly asked: “Will you, Astrid Hofferson, take this man as your husband?”

“I will,” she said, firmly and honestly. He gently lifted her hand, slid the ring onto her finger and tenderly swiped his thumb over her knuckles. Atali repeated her question at Hiccup, but Astrid didn’t even hear her over the pounding in her ears, eagerly awaiting his answer.

“I will.” She ascended. When she placed the ring on his finger, she was infinitely glad he was still holding her other hand, grounding her.

“Now the only thing left for you to do is sign your marriage certificate.”

Her hand was shaking a little, but she gripped the pen tightly and set her signature right next to Hiccup’s. And when Atali took the pen from her hand, she didn’t waste another second, grabbing his collar with both hands and hurling herself into him.

Only once before had a kiss been this earth-shattering, this heart-stopping, this satisfying. Only this time, it wasn’t raining in buckets.

Atali’s laughter brought her back down to earth. “I was just about to suggest to seal this union with a kiss, but you guys seem to have it covered. Congratulations, you two!”

During the ceremony, Throk had been taking pictures with their camera. Now he took a few more with their phones while Atali sorted the documents, and then even more with only the light of the dancing colors. Astrid was in a daze, following Throk’s suggestions on autopilot. Only when he asked if they wanted to take pictures of each of them alone and Hiccup stepped a few feet away from her, she regained her sense of reality.

But she’d still lost all sense of time. At some point, Throk was apparently satisfied with the amount of photos he’d taken, only staying for one more with the four of them in it. Then he and Atali packed their equipment back into their van while Hiccup and Astrid sent pictures to their friends, first of all to Eret, and video-called their parents.

As predicted, Stoick was over the moon, proudly congratulating them. Valka did the same, just less loudly. Wilma’s first reaction was to look at Frederick and go, “See? I told you she meant something like this!” Then they launched into a discussion over their speculations and who’d predicted what with what level of certainty.

“Are we going to be like this one day?” Astrid whispered to Hiccup.

“Oh, honey, I’m afraid we already are,” he said and pecked her cheek. His lips were warm on her cold skin. Which was why they kept the call short, promising to come by once they returned to Berk.

Then they said goodbye to Atali and Throk, thanking them for everything, before walking towards the edge of the cliffs. Standing there with their arms spread wide, facing the ocean while the wind rushed in their ears, they took deep breaths and shouted into the night until they were completely out of breath.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Haddock?” Hiccup asked a while later as they stood in a tight hug, swaying with the lights above.

“Blown through.” She felt the wind and the chill of late October to her bones. Back in the city, there were a hot shower and a bed waiting for her, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave her husband’s arms just yet.

This was a moment for eternity.

_______________

It was a loud crack of thunder that woke her.

Careful not to make too much noise, she crawled out of bed and tip-toed into the hallway, the occasional flash of lightning in the sky illuminating her path.

On her way past her parents’ bedroom, she stopped and listened, but didn’t pick up any signs that someone had heard her. Nothing from her sisters’ rooms as well. Seemed like the whole house was asleep but for her.

One hand on the railing, she carefully tip-toed down the stairs. In the living room, she slid behind the couch, pulled the curtains aside and climbed onto the windowsill. This was the best place in the house to watch storms, she’d already figured that out during the first week they’d lived here. Rain was splattering against the glass and another roll of thunder shook the sky. She loved it.

Her dad liked to tell the story of how he’d felt struck by lightning when he’d first met her mom. She thought it was cheesy. Ida thought it was romantic. But Ida found everything romantic at the moment. And Lexi didn’t even understand the concept yet. Maybe Benji would have more sense than her little sisters once he was born. But that was still a few weeks away, said her mom.

Several more flashes of lightning momentarily bathed the living room in a bright light, enough to illuminate the mess that three young kids, a dog, and a cat inevitably made throughout the day. Not to mention the dad that liked to misplace everything, especially sketchbooks. He had a lot of those.

A low whimper gained her attention and she spotted first the eyes, then the rest of the golden retriever cowering between the chairs under the table.

“Come here, Zephyr!” she whisper-shouted and the dog scurried over. She jumped onto the back of the couch, wagging her tail and burying her head under Finja’s arm. “You’re a fine guard dog, you are.” She ruffled the fur behind the dog’s ears, calming her as the wind blew a gust of rain against the window, followed by another crack of thunder.

“Fin?”

Finja’s head whipped around at the voice. Ida stuck her head around the door, long blonde hair falling into her face. In her arms, she was holding a bundle of reddish fur – her favorite comfort pet, Nuffink. Finja herself had named the cat back when she’d first learned to speak. She couldn’t remember her thought process behind the name, though.

“Can… Can I sit with you?”

Finja wordlessly waved her over. Nuffink squirmed in Ida’s hold and escaped, but Ida didn’t care, a smile lighting up her face as she quietly ran over to join her sister on the windowsill. Zephyr enjoyed the additional petting hand and eventually stopped whimpering at every crack of thunder.

“Why are you not asleep?” Finja asked.

“The storm is too loud. And you? Don’t you love storms?”

It was true, Finja did. As far as she could remember, thunderbolts and lightning had never scared her. She rather found they calmed her. But tonight, she hadn’t been able to sleep much, nerves and excitement keeping her awake. She’d just managed to fall asleep when the storm had started.

“It’s because of tomorrow, isn’t it?” Ida asked. She was smart.

Finja shrugged. “Maybe.” It was her very first day of school. And since they had moved to a bigger house in a different part of Berk, that also meant she had to go to a different school than all of her friends.

“Don’t worry, Fin, you’ll be fine. You’ll find lots of friends, you’ll see. And granny Valka and gramps live near the school, how cool is that? You can go over after school every day!” One year from now, Ida would be in school too, even though she’d be a few months younger than the other kids.

“If mom and dad allow it,” Finja mumbled, but she had to admit, it was comforting to know that part of her family was always nearby.

“And uncle Eret’s work is only one street over.”

“Really?” Her little sister wasn’t just smart, she also had an amazing sense of direction. She’d kill it in school next year.

Ida nodded and yawned, exposing all of her teeth.

“Cover your mouth,” Finja chided.

“Oops.”

“Come, let’s go back to bed.” The rain was letting up and the sound of thunder far away. Zephyr was drowsing with her head in Finja’s lap. Besides, the glowing hands of the clock on the wall told her it was the middle of the night.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Ida asked as she climbed back down from the windowsill. Finja suspected she only said that so Finja would sleep better, but it wasn’t like she didn’t secretly like the idea.

“Okay.”

[lovesaadiqa]

BBL Costs, Prep + Recovery

Im booked!!  I talked to a few friends who I know either got this surgery or is getting this done.  I wanted one since forever but I wanted my teeth done first.  The deciding factor came down to my birthday plans.  

Originally I was going to do a birthday tour.  First weekend of October in Miami for carnival, 2nd weekend in Atl for Freak Nik, 3rd weekend in Bahamas and finally Nola for the finale.  Well Nola was just hit with a storm so yeah that’s out. Once I totaled up the flights, hotels, food and spending money.. I was like hmm, I can get a fat ass and started this process.  Immediately looked into surgeon and Dr. Pena was my favorite, his bodies come out so mf snatched, he’s located in Columbia.  Columbian surgeons can take out way more fat than American doctors however, the fatality rate is stupid and ultimately the factor that made me choose an American doctor.  

The next step was choosing the surgeon for the body I have and the one I want.  I weigh 151 and im 5′6″ I’m considered a “skinny bbl”.  I started researching doctors in Atlanta (so I could recover at home) and Miami (like duh).  I chose to go with Dr. Desouza in Miami with CG Cosmetics for a few reasons.  First, I love the look of his skinny bbl’s on other women with the same body type, weight and height as me.  Secondly, he was having a special for the end of the year (lipo 360, bbl, jplasma for $6500 for the surgeon I wanted) this almost sold me but it was the surgery date!!  Jplasma is skin tightening procedure to help with loose skin, you can only get this with lipo.  When they perform lipo they created canals under your skin to remove the fat.. well those same canals are essential when getting Jplasma.

Ok so I decided on the surgeon, contacted the cosmetic group and had a consultation which is pretty much just front, side and back view pictures.. I think they use this to make sure you don’t need a tummy tuck prior to surgery.  They also asked me questions about previous surgeries and if i’ve ever had anesthesia.  The next step went pretty quickly, we talked about what would be lipo’d (abs, waist, back.. I wanted inner thighs, an additional 2k, but was advised to wait on my pre-op to decide), when I wanted to book and how I'd pay.  My consult was on August 30th.. I bitched up when she attempted to take my payment.  I am a money hoarder and spending that much money made me feel like I was being financially irresponsible.  I called one of my Aunt’s who I felt wouldn’t judge me and also give me sound advise.  We talked about my fears, why I was getting the procedure and of course money.  My Aunt gave me excellent advice, reassured me and is a professional CNA who offered to accompany me so yeah I dare not turn that down, lol.  August 31, 2021, I called my coordinator (the contact between me and my surgeon) and told her I wanted to book, she asked me when I’d be ready and I requested first available which was 9/20/21!! Excited is an understatement.. I'd be 24 days post op on my birthday.  After I calmed down I paid in full for multiple reasons:  had to in order to secure the date, all surgeries book in this year had to be paid in full, it was the only way to get the discount.. My coordinator gave me so much information I couldn’t see straight (I was also high as shit off life thinking about a fat ass and me in the same sentence).. she emailed + texted everything, congratulated me and we hung up.

I get the emails:  “raise you hemoglobin with these vitamins” I purchased vitamin C $2, folic acid $2, iron $3 and floradix $35 - amazon, I take them as directed on the bottle and start eating my ass off (just to give my surgeon more to work with, lol).  Talking to one of my gf’s I realize I have to be cleared for surgery?!?!  What?  I open my email and sure enough I have to have blood work done 15-20 prior to surgery, it was 9/3 and a Friday.. SHIT!! I fly over to an Piedmont Wellstreet urgent care facility as recommended by my friend (she started this process as well so I was crazy grateful for her experience and that she shared it with me).  Urgent care was full but opened the next day, my ass was in that line at 7:32 am, I was the 13th person in line and they opened at 8.  I get to the desk and my appointment is at 10:30 and I'd have to pay the office visit fee to be seen, it was $155.  I came back at my allotted time and was told how much all of my labs would be.. $302.  My labs were to be processed and faxed to my surgeon by 9/9 because Labor Day weekend so.. yeah.  

I discuss accommodations with my Aunt and realize it’s cheaper, safer and more beneficial for me to go to a recovery house.  I search high and low baby and most of them were booked.. found one regardless with lymphatic massages included called Flawless Recovery House.  This wasn’t my 1st-6th option but the one with availability on my surgery date so I paid a deposit to hold onto my spot.  Total was $1312 for 5 days with 5 massages, I paid a $200 deposit.  Next, I booked my flight, round trip $116 with Delta.  My surgery date is on a Monday, I have to have my pre-op done on the Saturday prior so I booked a hostel from the 18th-20th on booking.com for $66.  I know I could have gotten an airbnb or hotel room but I wanted this experience.  I want to go to Amsterdam and stay in a hostel so I need to know what to expect.  Also I cannot party, smoke, drink or eat before surgery so fuck it.. a hostel will do, lol. 

I smoke big fucking weed and watched someone else’s bbl journey today and realize if I fail the drug test, my surgery will be cancelled and it’ll cost me $1500 to reschedule.  Boy the shit sent me into panic mode like I've never experienced before, only to find out the weed isn’t the issue nicotine is, it slows down your heart rate.  I can smoke weed just not out of a wood or a rillo and nicotine takes 3-4 days to get out of your system so a bitch barely made it.  I just won't be smoking until I get back home lol.  Just to be super informative no alcohol, diabetic meds, cocaine, pcp or anything that will fool with your heart or makes your bleed.  Today is 9/11 and im one week out from my pre-op... my body is a joke cause I haven’t gained a single pound and normally it’s nothing for me to put on weight.  I took my acrylics off, when you’re put to sleep they monitor your oxygen levels with those clamps they put on your fingers and they aren't the most accurate when you have on dark polish or acrylics.  I also cannot wear lashes cause when they go to fill this ass in I'll be laying flat on my face.  I mean my hair didn’t have requirements but I figure since im naked I might as well be bald.. y'all should see me rn, I look very much like a young man but im hype.  I’ll be back later to tell y'all what I pack and purchase prior to my flight.  Imma put the dates at the end of each update.. today is 9/11/21

My surgery group send me list of supplies  that I would need and the cost came to roughly $1100.  Naive me was definitely going to purchase everything on the list from them until I saw Leslie’s (@prettyhaute - on ig) bbl vlog.  I went on amazon and got away with murder.  Below I’ll list what I purchased and the price I paid versus what the surgery center was quoting me.

Faja - I paid $74.69 - Quoted $160.50 || BBL Pillow - $26.99 - Qouted $42.80 || Arnica pills - $8.95 - Quoted $37.45 || Compression socks - $13.99 for 3 - Quoted $10.70 for 1 || Foams - $17.99 for 3 - Quoted $64.20 for 3 || Scar Cream  $$29.82 - Quoted $80.25 || Arnica Gel - $7.92 - Quoted $21.40 || 

There a shit ton of items on the suggested list that I didn't purchase but way more items that wasn’t on the list I still need for instance:

Crocs, benadryll, robe, adult diapers, straws, earplugs, liquid iv, stool softener, antiseptic body wash, avocado float, back board, urinal, pineapple juice, throat calm, 3 moo-moo’s and a massage roller (the crocs are the only thing on this list that cost more than $20).  My flight is at 7:15a tomorrow and im so damn nervous but excited.  I will spend Saturday and Sunday gallivanting around Miami and then body , ody, ody, ody, ody, ody.  I still have to send my entire itinerary to my aunt but I think im all set.  9/17/21

Pre-op was packed but I went on Saturday and was in and out in an hour.  I was charged for a covid $80, 3 post-op massages $150 and a drug test $20.  I went over my clearance paper work with a medical assistant who also took 9 before pics of me.  Keep in mind, your surgery can be cancelled or reschedule if all of you labs aren’t at the surgery center on pre-op day.  I cannot stress how important it is to take your labs with you!!!  Mine were faxed over from urgent care but I was also provided copies which I took with me.  The photos were sent directly to my surgeon to analyze before surgery.  From my knowledge, I was also to be fitted for my faja but that never happened, do NOT leave pre-op without a faja!!! I paid for 3 massages from CG totaling $150 which I regret badly.  I do NOT recommend getting massages from the surgery center.  There are 4-5 different surgeons performing surgeries on any given day and they do at minimum 4 surgeries per day, that’s at least 15-20 different girls with the same surgery and post-op date.  CG had 2 massage therapists to drain 15-20 girls.  I was drained for 9 mins, your drain massages should last at least 45 mins for maximum drainage.  I only used 1 of the 3 massages I paid for and was denied a refund.  That is a huge downside to CG once they have your money good fucking luck getting it back! Ps. Ellie was a royal fucking cunt!!!!!  She told my medical assistant that I didn’t need a faja so I was never fitted for one and woke up out of surgery with a binder on versus a faja like I should have.  I wanted to slap the shit out of her and took the charge on the chin but I wanted my surgery so I refrained.. I was put on a 12 hour fast and contacted an hour after pre-op with my surgery address and time.  My fast started at 7pm the day before surgery and my surgery time wa at 6:30a, there was a $300 for showing up to surgery late.  All I could bring to surgery was compression socks and a faja (that I didn’t have), I was instructed to bathe with dial (the orange one) before surgery to make sure my incisions weren’t infected, no lotion, perfume, deodorant, makeup, nails, lashes, no jewelry/piercing or hair products and no personals ie, purse money, wallet also you will need a companion or surgery will be cancelled.  I’ll upload all my paperwork at the end.   Surgery day arrive at the surgery center at 6:15 am how about the entire fucking staff was late!  Bitch I was outside in Miami alone with compression socks on and a moo moo, LIVID.  No one arrived until 7:10 am, baby I wanted to kill everyone but fuck it, it was go time.  I’m escorted to a room, changed into a paper gown, piss tested, my labs were reviewed again and finally my surgeon comes in!  We were in the exam room alone which was weird cause I was asshole naked but he kept it 1000% professional, he asked me what I wanted and I say “the fattest ass” he looked me dead in my eyes without a single hesitation and said “it’ll heal like a diaper”  LMAO.  I showed him areas that I wanted lipo’d to death and he marked me up, I didn’t aka e picture of my mark ups but shit was rolling by then, he walked out I put my paper gown back on and the anesthesiologist walked in.  I expressed my biggest concerns to him, I didn’t want to die and I didn’t want to wake up during surgery.  He explain why the drug test was so important because certain street drugs will have adverse effect with the anesthesia.  My anesthesiologist walked me up to the surgery room and I hopped on the table, they put massage boots on both of my feet and inserted an iv, the mask was put on my face and my heart rate went to heaven, I wanted to shit myself bro.  The anesthesiologist told me to make a tight fist, I asked what time it was, 8:08am.. I woke up to a nurse helping me into a wheelchair with a binder around my waist and I was scream crying because my entire body ached, I didn't know where I was and the anesthesia is no hoe.  I was escorted to my recovery house’s transportation van and taken to my damn bed.  

I chose Flawlesss Recovery House with Ms. Opal.  I paid a $200 deposit before 2 weeks before surgery and the balance the day I left.  I opted for a 5 day stay.  I loved it there bro and couldn’t imagine trying to recover at a hotel or air bnb!  There were nurses there 24-7, I was roomed with one other girl but the house had a total of 4 bedrooms, one of which no one occupied and the door was always shut but my room was the only room with 2 beds, the others had 3 beds.  I had a call button, it was love, the nurses came expeditiously when I rang it.  They made 3 home cooked meals per day and I don’t eat meat, they accommodated me with no hesitation.  I loved it man.  So couple hours after surgery I attempted to use the bathroom on my own and blacked out, the anesthesia is really fucking strong and took an entire day to wear off (for me), the nurses helped me pee in a cup until then.  Post op day 9/21/21, I went in to make sure I looked good, got a faja finally and received that lousy as drain.  Back to the recovery house I was able to walk finally w/o passing out and in went my foams, I also could pee by myself with the use of a urinal.  I was constipated for 2 days, first bowel movement was on post op day 2. I paid for an independent massage therapist named Tatiana, she used a ultrasound machine to massage me so I cancelled her.  When I took my faja off for my massage it was washed and dried by the time I was done, I took a shower and put my faja on with my foams.  I cancelled Tatiana because don’t let nobody use no machine on you until you are at least 2 weeks post op, hand massages only.  All the girls were getting massaged by the literal best massage therapist (in my opinion) her name is Brittany, I could cry she was EVERYTHING, I was tender but she put the painful massage theory to bed!  She taught me how to drain myself and how to open my incisions without the q-tip looking thing.  In 45 mins she drained 5 of those doggy pad things worth of fluid off of me.  I received 4 massages in 5 days.  I left on Saturday 9/25/2021 on Sunday, back in Atlanta, I received my 5th massage and that when I was told I have not one but 2 seromas.  I swear on everything I love it was because everyone wakes up from surgery with a faja on but not me (Fuck you Ellie, lil bitch) I had on a binder (its what they use for tummy tucks).  The lady who did my 1st massage in Atlanta was Bri, not gone post her ig cause she did a damn good massage but when I asked her to syringe drain me the good sis stuck this long ass needle in my seroma but could get the fluid out, cancelled her too (the massage was good asf tho but nah).  Tired and tried I bit the bullet and booked a packed with Dream Body ($455 for 5 massage, I think, don’t quote me look it up on there site and follow them on ig)  because they are the biggest name in Atlanta, Jayda Wayda goes to them.  The  most painful massage yet, yes Michelle lil ass is so strong but she will get the fluid up off you.  She made me tear up bad and no matter how much I screamed or even tried to push her off of me she understood the assignment, Michelle helped me get back into my faja after my massage and told me my faja was too big and to have it altered.  She recommended a lady on ig @siri2sir but to know me is to know I altered my shit myself.  Allow me to tell y'all, I look good asf!!!!!!! 10/4/2021 

[rune-writes]

Sentimental Coffee

Fandom: Persona 5

Ann Takamaki Week 2020 » Day 3: Free Day

Word Count: 2897

Rating: G

Summary: On a blazing summer morning, after a photoshoot that ended early due to the scorching heat, Ann found a new coffee shop that just opened on Central Street. As she sent Ren a picture of her cake and blended chocolate drink, she recalled of a time when Ren taught her how to use the siphons a month before he returned to his hometown. When winter was almost over, but a chill still hung in the air.

Note: This was supposed to be my piece for the digital Persona Love Webzine, but since that project was cancelled, I decided to post this on Ann Week 2020 :)

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

“One double chocolate chip frappe and one slice of cheesecake.” The waiter, having recited her order, glanced up from his note. “Anything else, Miss?”

Ann stared at the list of cakes on the menu. The red velvet and fruit tarts looked tempting. Or maybe she should add the quiche. But her manager’s voice rang out in her ears—to cut down on her snacks and sweets—so Ann closed the menu and smiled at the waiter.

“That’s all, thanks,” she said.

A faint blush. The waiter nodded and jotted down on his notepad before scurrying off to the counter on the other side of the shop. He spoke to his friends behind it, who then glanced over their shoulders to look at her, only to duck their heads again when they found her staring back. Ann couldn’t keep herself from giggling.

She had been on a shoot nearby, and even though it was only 10 AM, the sun had already been blazing hot that the shoot ended early. The staff had said they would continue in the afternoon, hoping the heat would have cooled by then. So as Ann drifted away from the crew and wondered if she should wait at home, she spotted the little café tucked between a clothing store and sundries shop—a newly opened coffee shop on Central Street that was featured in last month’s magazine. She had been wanting to visit the place, but with gigs, interviews, and college, Ann hadn’t found the right time to go.

Sweat rolled down her temple. Ann was already sitting beneath the air conditioner, but even that only helped so much. She took off her cap, tied her hair to a tail, and fanned herself.

“I’m sorry for the wait.” 

The waiter from before came with her cheesecake on a tray. A slice of yellowish-white goodness with a whipped cream and cherry on top that made her mouth water. He set the plate down in front of her. 

“It’s quite hot today, isn’t it?” he went on. “Do you want me to turn the temperature down?”

“That’s fine, thanks,” Ann replied. The sight of her cheesecake was enough to cool her down. She couldn’t wait to dig in. “I’ll just rest for a bit.”

The waiter nodded but didn’t seem to move. When Ann looked up, she met his expectant gaze. “I’m sorry if this is rude of me, but I can’t help but notice,” he began after a moment of fidgeting on his feet. There were only a few other customers present, but he leaned his head down and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You’re the model Ann Takamaki, right?”

Ann blinked in surprise. Then again, she hadn’t put the effort to disguise herself. Only a pair of sunglasses and a cap—which she was using as a fan. Her lips parted into a practiced, effortless smile.

“Could you keep it quiet, please? I’d rather not draw attention to myself,” she said with a finger to her lips. The waiter nodded, too eager for his own good. He said something about her frappe being ready soon and that he hoped she enjoyed her stay before leaving for the counter again.

It felt strange, watching the waiter talk animatedly with his coworkers, who occasionally spared her glances between putting coffee beans in a grinder or pouring blended drinks into cups. Was it because she had been putting more effort into her modelling lately? Ann couldn’t walk down the streets without being noticed anymore. Her cap and sunglasses had become her best friend, but with summer on the way, there had been no way she could have hidden herself beneath a cowl or some sort.

Ann grabbed the small silver spoon the waiter had set for her and sliced into her cheesecake. Soft and creamy, the cake melted the moment it entered her mouth. Still cool, fresh from the refrigerator. Ann squealed in delight. Who was it who said she shouldn’t snack in the morning? Though would this count as a snack? How many calories would she have to burn today, including her frappe that had yet to come?

“Here’s your double chocolate chip frappe, Miss.” The same waiter placed a glass of blended chocolate in front of her. Look at that whipped cream! Topped with chocolate syrup and sprinkled with chocolate chips.

Ann thanked the waiter before sipping her drink, pulling the straw out to swipe at the cream along with the syrup and chips. She broke into a jubilant grin. So cool. So sweet. Just the perfect thing she needed to ward off the last of the summer heat from her skin. What her manager didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

She fished for her phone from inside her bag and positioned her frappe and half-eaten cheesecake in front of her. She set to take a picture, but then opened her messaging app and clicked on Ren’s chat at the top.

‘What are you doing?’ she typed. Ren was on an out-of-town trip with his college friends for an assignment. Ann wasn’t jealous, not when her boyfriend was trekking through a village in this scorching heat.

His reply came not a minute later: ‘Taking a break.’ He followed it with a picture of him and his three other friends in a Japanese-style restaurant. Mount Fuji soared into the clear, cloudless blue sky, its snow-capped tip just visible beyond the square window panes. ‘I’ll be back this afternoon.’

Ann took a picture of her frappe and cake and sent it to him. ‘Jealous?’ She added a lot of smirking and grinning emojis.

‘Heh. It’s not as hot here as it is there.’

Ann could almost see him smirking. Jerk. She couldn’t help but giggle.

‘A café just opened in Central Street,’ she said. ‘They have these siphons too, like the ones in Leblanc.’

‘Ahh, yeah, I think someone mentioned that before. Remember how you messed up Leblanc when I taught you how to use them?’

Ann paused. ‘What?’

‘The siphons.’

It took her a moment to remember. Something that happened before Ren moved back to his hometown. When winter was almost over, but a chill still hung in the air.

***

Ann sat at the counter with a magazine in hand. The quiet hum of conversation filled her senses. An anchor spoke in a news program while Sojiro sat by the cash register, reading a newspaper.  

Ann flipped through her magazine, trying hard to make sense of the words. She skimmed through the pages, stopping only at the pretty pictures of far-off islands and expensive resorts. A yawn threatened to swallow her face, but she held it in, eyes blinking back tired tears as she flipped another page.

A snort came from up ahead. Ren, now standing by the siphons, was masterfully navigating the intricate device. Ann pulled her lips into a scowl.

“What?” she said, her voice clipped.

“You can take a nap upstairs if you want,” he replied with a chuckle.

She would, but Ann didn’t want to waste what’s left of her precious time with Ren napping in his room. Even if that precious time was only her sitting there and watching him work. She picked up another scent of coffee as Ren added tablespoons of soft grounds into boiling water. After quick, gentle stirs and all the coffee grounds submerged, Ren set the paddle down and lowered the heat.

“I can’t concentrate when you’re staring like that,” he said, setting a timer on his phone. His tone was firm, but he was smiling. 

Ann blinked, then smirked, propping her elbows on the counter and leaning her chin between her fingers. “What, did I make your heart flutter?”

“Stupid.” Ren gave her forehead a gentle flick. “My heart’s been fluttering since the moment I saw you.” 

Maybe if he’d grinned or snickered or showed any signs that he was teasing, Ann would have taken it in stride and laughed it off. But Ren was serious and his voice matter-of-fact, as though it was an indisputable, universal truth. Ann’s face burned. Before she could come up with a reply, Sojiro’s stern voice broke through their banter.

“Can you kids please keep the flirting to a minimum? We still have customers, you know.” The middle-aged proprietor spared them a glance from his seat, one corner of his lips tugged into a teasing grin.

Right. Ann dropped her gaze to her magazine, but not before catching Ren’s smirk. She gaped at him. He was teasing her!

“That’s alright, Boss,” the old lady said. The elderly couple were the only customers left in the otherwise busy day. They had been sitting at the table behind Ann for almost an hour with nothing but a cup of coffee. “It’s nice seeing young love blossoming in front of you. Isn’t that right, Dear?” she asked her husband sitting across from her.

Her husband nodded, mumbling “right, right,” though his attention was fixed on the television. Ann shared a glance with Ren and was glad to see she wasn’t the only one feeling embarrassed.

“Ah, but I heard you’re leaving soon, son?” the old lady went on. Ren looked up from the siphons. “Boss told me.”

“Oh…” A slight widening of his eyes, Ren’s gaze wavered for a fraction of a second before he resorted to a quiet nod. “Yeah.” He stirred the coffee in the siphon and removed the heat source from the bottom chamber. “I’ll return to my hometown after the semester ends.”

“It’ll be lonely here,” the old man added, sipping his coffee. “It was nice having a fresh face around, unlike the old grump who runs this place.”

“Keep badmouthing me and I’ll charge you twice for the coffee, gramps,” Sojiro chimed from the kitchen. 

They all laughed.

The couple finished their coffee and asked for a check. While Sojiro handled the cash register, Ann found her gaze drawn toward the siphons, where the coffee was now making its way back to the bottom chamber. It had always fascinated her—the way they worked. Ren had tried to explain the science behind it, but Ann could never truly grasp it. Something about vapors and pressure and vacuum. Ann enjoyed seeing the water rise to the top beaker before falling back down after the heat source was extinguished, extracting all the essence, aroma, and taste from the grounds. And once everything was finished, a small dome-shaped mound formed over the filter.

“Your coffee, Miss,” Ren said, pushing a cup of the freshly brewed coffee toward her. Ann stared at it, perplexed. She hadn’t ordered a coffee. But before she could ask, Sojiro had cut her off, asking Ren to watch the store while he went out to buy groceries for the evening. The elderly couple had left, and Sojiro was already untying his apron, setting it down on the chair by the register.

Ren replied with an “alright”, but even after his guardian had left, he still didn’t look at her. She followed him with her eyes as he wiped the counter clean, wondering what thoughts hide behind that beautiful poker face. It was not until he stopped and asked, “What?” that Ann shook her head and mumbled, “Nothing.” 

I heard you’re leaving soon. 

Right. There was only one month left. The coffee swirled dark in her cup. Ann brought the rim to her lips and sipped the thin liquid. Bitter. But satisfying. Ren’s coffee had never failed to put a smile on her face. 

“I’m gonna miss your coffee,” she murmured.

A pause in his movements. She felt it more than she saw it, the way his gaze fell on her. He studied her, and for a moment she refused to look up. Ren always had that piercing glare, as if he could see right through her to the deepest, darkest parts of her mind, and right now, Ann didn’t want to feel naked in front of him. But then he called her name, so soft, his voice just above a whisper, and it was an instinctive gesture—the way her eyes met his. The look she saw on his face rooted her to the spot. Gone was the poker face he so often donned. His dark gray orbs were drawn, his lips pulled into the most tender smile she had ever seen on him.  

“Want me to teach you how to make them?” he asked.

It was such an unexpected offer that Ann had to take a moment to understand what he meant: the siphons. But… why? What brought it up? Ann tilted her head to the side in puzzlement. 

Ever since the first moment she met him, Ann could never guess what Ren was thinking. One moment he was the convicted criminal on probation. The next, he became one of the few people in her life who ever reached out to her, when all the world saw her as nothing but a nuisance. He’d become so dear, and she would not trade him for any other men in the entire world.

Then the tender smile disappeared, replaced by that cheeky yet endearing smirk that pushed her heart to near-bursting.

“Might as well,” Ren added, “so you don’t come crying to me every night on the phone.”

Ann rolled her magazine and slapped him hard on the arm. 

“Between you and me, we both know who’s gonna call the other every other night,” she retorted.

“Wanna bet on that?”

He was grinning, and so was she. The next thing she knew, both of them were doubling over with giggles and laughter that neither of them could stop. She drank her perfectly brewed coffee, which, in her opinion, was already better than Sojiro’s, and Sojiro’s was a tough bar to pass. If only he could stay…

Ren quirked an eyebrow when Ann looked at him. “Well,” she said, getting up to her feet. She moved to the other side of the counter and stood in front of the siphons. Blue eyes met gray, and Ann hoped her smile was bright enough to hide her melancholy. “What’s the first step, chef?”

***

How could someone mess up a place just by brewing coffee?

It was supposed to be easy—or, Ren said it was supposed to be easy. “Pour water into the bottom chamber, let it boil over the heat source, see it transform into vapor as the rest go up the siphon into the top chamber. Add coffee grounds, stir, and wait.” The worst she could do was probably the uneven ratio, or the stirring method, or the timer, resulting in a too-thin coffee or too thick. So how had it ended up with coffee splattered all over the counter and a slight blister on Ren’s hand?

‘It was mostly your fault,’ Ann replied in her text.

‘“Mostly” being the key word.’

Ann had been waiting for the timer to go off when suddenly, arms wrapped around her from behind. Ren had rested his chin on her shoulder, making her heart skip a beat.

“Ren?”

“Let me stay like this for a while.” His voice was soft against her ear, and maybe it was the slight tremble she had noticed that made her give in. She’d covered his hand with her own.

“It’ll only be a year,” she’d said. His arms had tightened. “And we have phones. And internet.”

“Are you saying you won’t miss me?”

“Stupid.” A quiet thing, accompanied by a breathy chuckle. Her breath caught in her throat. “Of course I’ll miss you.”

They had stayed like that until the timer went off in a sudden blaring noise. Ann jumped, jerking Ren back a step. Her shoulder knocked his chin. 

Between his hiss of pain and Ann’s hasty apology, Ann had turned around in an attempt to check on him. But her elbow bumped against the boiling siphon, and it swayed, then tumbled, but before it could crash, Ren’s hand had shot out and grabbed the handle. Coffee had splashed across the counter and the back of Ren’s fingers burned from grazing the bottom beaker. They’d rushed him to the sink and poured cold tap water over it.

‘You were getting touchy-feely when the coffee was still brewing,’ Ann went on.

‘And you didn’t?’

She had. It had been her precious last month with Ren before he returned to his hometown. Who wouldn’t have gotten sentimental? She could almost hear his laughter. Ann smiled.

‘Anyway, what does that have anything to do with our conversation?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Jerk.’ Ann laughed.

‘Let’s go there sometime,’ came his reply. ‘Together.’

Together. Ann fought hard to keep her smile at bay as she typed in her reply. ‘Let’s.’

Ren had to go, so they bid each other goodbye. Ann stared at her phone screen, exhaling a quiet, contented sigh. It had been a while since their last date. With college and part-time jobs, their quality time had been reduced to movie nights or dinners at her home or his apartment.

Ann couldn’t stop smiling as she sipped her cold blended drink, eyes fluttering upward toward the siphons on the counter. The barista was now brewing coffee to a small group of spectators. Ooh’s and ahh’s erupted from them, and for a moment, she was back in Leblanc, sitting at that counter, watching Ren work the coffee siphons. Her smile grew. It had always been a captivating thing to watch.  

~ END ~