#good GRIEF why do these sticks have so many tags /silly

[starry-907]

chosen week day 2- rest

chosen was probably the first one to lay down and the rest of the cg joined in the nap pile. idk the mental image was too cute for me to not do

[neocity-sarai]

Heartstrings

❂ reader x mark lee (soulmate au, inspired by the film “Weathering With You”)

❂ alerts: fluff, angst, self-blame, mentions of death, drinking, making out, mentions of the dreamies, happy belated birthday to the greatest rapper, laugher, and watermelon-eating fiend ever! this was 40 pages- i’m so sorry

❂ song rec: raining in london by lana condor and anthony de la torre

Soulmates. Weather. Uncontrollable and unpredictable- yet they control your mood and your fate. It’s been this way ever since you’ve been born, even since the beginning of your parents’ time. Your mother and father called it a force of nature- a phenomenon when you’re connected to someone like an invisible string, a syncopation of voices, thoughts, and feelings. Luckily for them, they fell in love when they were just college students and miraculously became soulmates. You always thought it was lucky that they met and were destined to be together from that moment, forming a family by having you in the future. It made you think of the what ifs. What if they didn’t meet or if your mother had someone else when your father was around? What if they loved each other but weren’t soulmates? What if you ceased to exist? It makes you shiver when you think about it. 

During middle school, you vividly remember a collection of memories. Happy ones and unfortunately, not so good ones. Your father had died when you were 14, a drunk driver had recklessly crashed into the family van on the highway when your father was driving to work. Even 4 years after, your mom became extremely frail at heart from the grief. She always had a wine glass in her hand, sobbing every night when she’d enter every room of your family’s home. You were just a kid when she told you she saw your father on every wall and every photograph. She missed him. She told you that she wasn’t able to heal so quickly. Understanding, you rubbed her back on the floor of their bathroom, dumping the remaining liquid out of her smeary glass. She just sobbed into your arms, shakes rupturing her entire body. It made you feel broken and somber seeing your own mother like this. Still, you had to be strong for her. 

The weather outside was cold and dark. Rain crashed down on the window pane like a series of dashes and lines. The clouds seemed angry, lightning flashing like shooting stars and thunder roaring like a legion of lions. It was extreme and powerful, water flooding the streets and your front yard. You were sure the peonies that you had planted with your father were now washed away in broken stems. It seemed like you had an ocean of water outside and inside your mother’s bathroom. The feeling of hopelessness did not stop. That’s when you heard a pin drop. It was a subtle but also a loud sound, something possible to ignore- it was the sound of a realization: your father always loved the rain. No matter how chilly it was, he always enticed you to dance in the rain as he held his arms out, a grin plastered on his face. His smile always stretched from ear to ear. It’s something you never forgot. 

You wiped your mom’s tears with your thumbs, “Mom?”

Your mother coughed, her eyes red and puffy, “Yes, honey?”

“Can I show you something?”

“What is it?”

“Just trust me.”

You took her by the hand, leading her through your dark and empty house. You made way to your backyard door, opening up to your water-logged lawn and a cloudy sky. Everything was a dull grey but was touched with splotches of periwinkle blues, it can’t be all that bad. Letting go of your mother’s hand, you begin to advance into the middle of the grass, spinning and twirling as hard as you can. You spread your arms out before sticking your tongue out to the rain above, droplets cold and fresh. You screamed out to the sky, “I love you dad!”

Your mother watched you with her lips pressed into a thin line, leaning on the pillar of your roof. You motioned to her, “Come on, mom- maybe dad’s up there watching.”

She pauses for a moment, reluctant of what might happen if she indulges in the thought. She decides that there’s nothing to lose. There’s nothing to do but own it anyway. She flies into your arms, your figure supporting her weight. You hear her sigh out when she feels the soft patter on her cheeks. Small water droplets litter her eyelashes, the cold soothing the puffiness of her face. She shuts her eyes for a bit, relishing in the icy, chilling feeling. Both of your shoes are flooded and covered in mud but it doesn’t matter. For the next several hours, you both laugh as loud as you can, running around your backyard. You both lay side by side on the wet grass, the green tufts under your fingers. Your mom turns her head towards you, smiling, “We will be okay.”

You nod, nuzzling your nose into your mom’s shoulder, “I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You hate the world. You hate how unfair it is. You wish you kept your word. That night, your mother had fallen asleep on the couch. Even though you had insisted on running a bath, your mother refused out of exhaustion. That one second has landed you and your mother in the hospital. The doctor had told you that your mother had come down with a severe case of pneumonia- it’s already scarred the lining of her lungs. The damage is irreversible. He’s also told you that your mother isn’t likely to survive due to her past conditions of frail health. You sit in your mother’s hospital room, clutching her hand as she sleeps. You think to yourself: Hasn’t the world taken so much from you already? Haven’t you experienced too many sacrifices? Your mind shifts into shadows. If you hadn’t suggested going out in the rain, would your mother be better? If your mother dies, isn’t it your fault? Soulmates? Do they even exist? You hate the idea of waiting for someone, pining for somebody that might never show up. The world is silly. You cry into her hand until you can’t breath. You let go of it, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Every doctor and patient that stares at you looks like a blur in your vision and your heart feels like it’s going to explode from it all. You can't stop rewinding your life like a broken movie reel, visions of your mother and you and your dad. 

“Whoa there, slow down-”

A pair of arms catches you and an unfamiliar voice makes you bite your tongue on accident. When you look up, you’re met with the view of a boy- a cute one at that. You’re not in the mood to compliment him, to say anything. Still, through your blurry tears, you are wary of him. He seems like a boy that you could get to know but one that could wear the face of an innocent but actually be the devil in disguise. He’s too pretty to be average. His black locks are the color of ash, his eyes are dark and sparkly with innocence. Oh yes, he has sharp features too. His jaw and his cheeks are carved like seared gems, his eyebrows thin lines below his bangs. He wears a pair of denim jeans and a striped sweater. You take note of the annoyingly polished tag pinned on his sweater: “Mark Lee” it reads.

“Are you alright?” the boy asks again. 

You just stare up at him, tears running down your cheeks like foggy waterfalls. You can’t smell, see, or feel. All you can do is lightly shake your head. Weirdly, he seems like he understands, “Can I help you find someone or a room? I’m a volunteer at this hospital.”

You shake your head again, a little too violently. You sniffle, your voice sounds small, “I just want somewhere that’s away from people.”

Apologetically, Mark nods. “I may be able to help. I just need to change first, yeah?”

“No, I- it’s alright. I don’t-t need help.”

Mark waves his hands around, “It’ll only take a few seconds, I promise.”

Why should you trust a stranger? Your mom always reminded you that your father was a stranger to her at first. Sometimes, you never know where it leads. You check the time on your phone before turning to see the direction of where your mom’s room is. 

“Only a few minutes.”

You let Mark lead you to the bathrooms. He turns to you, frantic and he seems a little nervous, “Give me a few seconds. Don’t leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

When Mark comes out, he’s dressed in scrubs. He wears a grey shirt and matching pants, his tag now on the pocket of it. He looks like one of those hot nurses that helps the pregnant woman who’s screaming her lungs out in Grey’s Anatomy. You don’t say that to him though. He walks with you, “Follow me- uh.. what’s your name?”

“I-It’s y/n.” After passing a series of corridors, Mark unlocks some obscure door that’s a little ways down, shoving his ring of keys into the lock, “I come up here to think, maybe it could help you.”

“Is this even legal? Couldn’t you get fired for letting me up here?”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, his eyes on you, “Well yes, but I think you’re worth it.”

You make a face at him,“Why? I’m a stranger?”

“Not to be all sappy but my supervisor told me that in the medical business, you always have to take chances- this me taking a chance.”

You scoff, “Thank you for your charity, I’ll be going up now.”

Mark’s eyes widen at your brazen attitude, “I’ll wait down here. Just knock on the door when you’re ready to come down.”

When Mark opens the door, all there is a concrete staircase. But when you emerge to the top of the staircase, it’s everything in one place. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see it. It’s a rooftop. The sun sets on the city’s horizon, silver clouds rolling in to threaten waves of rain. Lightning flashes in it again, thunder booming just like that day. You walk around the rooftop, watching how high up you are and how the skyscrapers touch the vastness of the sky. When you turn around, you see something peculiar. A japanese-like shrine stands in your view, decorated with hanging lines of colorful lanterns and photos. Making your way to it, you recognize that the photos must be of victims that have died at the hospital. Flowers and bells hang from the red-painted posts. Under the arch, sits a small fountain that’s been collecting rain. It looks so old, covered in moss and grime. Though, if you peer hard enough, there are names inscribed into the stone. You step forward under the arch of the shrine, the bells ringing in the wind. But, when you do, it doesn't feel normal. It almost feels like all of your emotions and senses have been amplified. Somehow, you can’t hear anything. You can’t hear the twinkle of the bells or any wind. When you stare down at the fountain, you don’t believe it when you see water droplets floating upwards. You use your finger to touch the droplets, the small spheres floating into the sky in a stream. Gravity doesn’t work like this, does it? You try to grab the water droplets, they still continue to slip out of your hands and into the air above. How is this possible?

You dip your finger into the rain water that sits in the stone bowl, ripples forming. Something shocks your veins like electricity, it makes you clutch your heart through your chest. What was that? You run out from under the archway, suspicious of it all. Is it some sort of prank machine? Either way, you want to get back to your mother. You run out from under the archway, one prayer couldn’t hurt. It's silly, you don’t go to church much. Still, you clasp your hand together and you pray as hard as you can. You pray you can walk in the sun with your mom again, that your father is happy, and for everything you’ve ever known.

Opening your eyes, you run back down to the staircase before swinging the door open. You spot Mark tripping, his legs are a tangled mess, “Whoa- what the-”

You eye him suspiciously, “Why’d you lean against the door? I was clearly going to open it..”

“I thought you were going to knock! You just caught me off-guard is all.”

Despite having just met, Mark nudges you, “So, how was it?”

You eye him again, wary of him, “I’ll give you credit for the view- it was beautiful. I wanted to ask though, what was that shrine up there?”

Mark stops walking, cocking his eyebrow up, “What? There was a shrine?”

You stop walking as well, “The big red archway, fountain in the center? Colorful lanterns and photos? Can’t miss it unless you’re blind?”

Mark laughs nervously, his nose scrunching in mock-pain, “My eye-sight isn’t the greatest so..”

“There’s no way you could have missed it, I literally saw it the moment I got up there.”

“Maybe it’s new- I was just there last week and didn’t see anything like that. Maybe you need to check your eyes?”

“I have 20/20 vision, thank you very much.”

Mark raises his hands up in mock-surrender, “Yes sir- I mean, mam’’”

By the time you make it back to the hallway where you had run into Mark, you turn to him, “Well, this has been interesting. Goodbye, stranger.”

Mark giggles, “You know my name though- I know yours. Are we really strangers still?”

“Yes. We met like 10 minutes ago.”

You notice the pink blush that creeps onto Mark’s cheeks, his words coming out it a stuttering ramble, “I-I’d really l-like to ask-”

Before Mark can ask you his question, probably for your number, you're interrupted by your mother’s nurse running out to you both, “Y/n! I’ve been looking for you, it’s your mother. You need to come now.” Her facial expression does not look good.

You nod, “Bye Mark, thanks for uh- your time.”

Mark opens his mouth, “Y-yeah, no problem, uh- y/n, yeah- I’ll see you around?”

You follow the nurse, “Maybe.”

Later that night, your mom had passed away. And two years later, you had blamed yourself for it every single day. Not only did your prayer not work, your mind was absent of the boy who helped you onto the roof. You couldn’t didn’t want to even remember his name or why you had run into him.

2 years later 

>I wonder if it’s raining in London

I wonder if the moon looks the same where you are

Still think about the sound of you humming

Singing to nothing in your car

Ever since your mom passed away, everything changed. You started to live with your aunt in her cottage home that was little ways out of the city. She had a rose garden out front, white and red bushes overgrown on the picket fence. Your aunt promised to invest in your parents’ property but thought it’d be good for you to spend the summer at the cottage. You could classify it as a time of healing, though most nights were spent thinking about your parents. You would spend the summer helping your aunt cook meals, plant flowers, and play with her beagle named Mosby in the wheat fields. At least, you weren’t entirely alone.

Eventually, it was time for you to apply for universities- a possibility that wasn’t even your orbit at all. Even so, strange things kept happening. Even when it was raining, no matter where you stepped- the weather changed in an almost too quick of an instant. If you wanted it to be sunny, the moment you stepped outside, the rays would emerge out of the obsidian clouds. If you wanted snow to play in with Mosby, it would snow even in the late June summers. It was odd, like the weather gods were at your beckon and call. This phenomenon only happened after that day you touched the fountain’s water, only after you walked under the archway of the shrine. You decided that there was no use fighting it. Of course, you were bewildered with your newfound power- though after a while, there was nothing to do but embrace it. There was something that your mother and father taught you since you were a child: help those who could be helped. Going around the city for errands, you observed people. For instance, a woman was telling her friend in the grocery store how disappointing that it would be raining during her baby’s 1st birthday. After collecting your items, you walked outside, clasping your hands together. You said in your mind, “Let us have sunshine for today.”

And of course, the weather forecast had announced that there would suddenly be no chance of rain. You could imagine the woman’s joy. You saw a young girl- about the same age as you running past you on the street as she tripped over her heels and fumbled in her tight office outfit, grumbling at how hard the rain was coming down. You wished for sunshine for her too. It was like the gods gave you a gift and it was your duty to use it for good- it’s what your parents would have wanted. Towards the end of the 2nd year, you told yourself that you wanted a change in scenery. It was time to do something worthwhile for yourself. Luckily, you got into the university of your choice and were on your way to moving to campus. There’s this erratic beating in your chest. Is it excitement? Anxiety? Fear? Probably a mix of all 3. As every coming of age movie, it’s all the same. Your aunt had helped you move into your dorm room, reassuring that you could come home or to the cottage whenever you wished. Thanking her, you press a kiss to her cheek before rearranging your boxes of belongings. Perhaps, this was the start of a new chapter. 

First day of class

First period is english 101. The university looks nice, it’s very castle-like with high-rising towers and turrets made of carved stone. Students sit in the courtyards in their friend circles, coffees in their hands as they sit under the large juniper trees. Though it is a sunny day, the forecast shows that heavy rains will stir into a monsoon. You keep note of that. Walking into the lecture hall, you take a seat towards the middle row- not too close to be picked on but not too far where you can’t hear. The professor is some old guy who’s been studying philosophy for 3000 years and you hope that you don't fall asleep before he’s done. You rest your chin in your hand, twirling your pencil on top of the desk surface. Suddenly, the entrance door bursts open with a loud noise, causing the hundreds of the students in the room to turn their heads. A boy stands there, he drops his books recklessly. The professor pauses his lecture to lower his glasses, “Mr. Lee? You’re tardy, son.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck, doe eyes pointed at the man, “Sorry Professor Norman, the rain held me up.”

“Go take a seat.”

You hear the girls behind you giggle from the sight. All you knew was that he looked oddly familiar to you. The boy climbs the stairs, standing on his tiptoes to look for an empty seat. When he spots one, a grin is plastered on his face as he makes his way nearer and nearer to you. You realize that there’s an empty seat right next to you. It’s painfully embarrassing as you watch the boy fumble his way behind other students, murmuring I’m sorrys and pardon mes. One of his notebooks falls out of his worn down jansport backpack, a girl batting her eyelashes when she hands it back to him. Smiling charming at her, he whispers, “Thanks for that.”

Finally, after 4 years, the boy manages to make it next to you. You scoff when he accidentally swings his backpack into the side of your arm, “Oh god, I’m so sorry- “

You nod curtly, “You’re fine.”

Now that you can get a closer look at him, you feel sweat bead up on your back when you realize where you’ve seen him. It’s that boy- the one the night your mom died. He reaches his hand out, “Hi there, my name’s Mark. Mark Lee.”

You stare at him for a bit before reluctantly taking his hand, “Y/n.”

As much as you don’t want to admit, Mark looks as endearing as ever. His black  locks are still the same, eyes shining from the dim lighting. He smells of the sweet rain, water droplets wetting his hair and his shoulders. 

>I wonder if you look any different

And would I see the years that have passed on your eyes?

There’s still a little part of me missing

I no longer recognize

Mark turns to you, his eyebrow quirked when he says your name on his tongue, “Have we met before? You seem familiar?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know anyone by the name of Mark so, I guess you’re the first?” Why did you lie to him?

Mark nods, “Ah, I see.”

Mark ruffles the water out of his hair, opening his soaked notebook, “Ah shit, the rain got in my backpack.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “I can lend you some of mine?”

Mark’s eyes widen at you, you swear you can see a faint blush creeping on his cheeks, “R-really? I swear I’ll pay you back.”

“No need, here.” You proceed to tear some sheets out for Mark. His presence is kind of comforting- like some childhood friend. Wait, what? No- you barely know him. 

You and Mark listen to the rest of the lecture in silence. When it’s time to go, he zips up his backpack before turning to you. He’s extremely red now. He bites his bottom lip, “Hey, I um, I was wondering if we could exchange numbers? I still want to pay you back for the paper and you’re new right? If you’re not, don’t worry about it but I don’t know, I just in case you needed me-ah, never mi-”

Before Mark can turn away, you look at him, “I’d like that. I could use a friend- being a newbie and everything.”

With that, Mark lights up, “Wait, really?”

“Sure.” You hand your phone to him, “Pick a good emoji.”

Mark’s fingers fumble with your phone, catching it in time before almost dropping it. He chuckles nervously, “Don’t worry, I got it-”

You smile, you’re sure your cheeks hurt from it. 

“There you go Mark, you have my number now.”

“Cool. Good. Yeah.”

With that you wave him a curt goodbye, “See you around?”

Mark smiles back at you, teeth gleaming white in between his lips, “Yeah y/n, see you around.”

With that, you go home to your dorm room. When you look out the window before sleeping, you count how many droplets sit on the windowpane. The stormy skies angrily from swirls of obsidian and murky lavenders. You hope that Mark won’t be caught in the rain again tomorrow.

In class the next day, your professor assigns group projects during lecture. Because you happened to sit next to Mark, you were paired up together. You both didn’t mind though. Mark pulls out his notebook and fountain pen, yanking the cap off with his teeth, “So, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go over the project during lunch?” 

You nod at him, “That works for me.”

When class is over, you follow Mark to the university’s cafeteria. It’s teeming with students and professors, lunch hour is always chaotic. Mark points at an empty table by the window, “How about over there?”

Before you can answer him, many voices call Mark’s name. He swivels around to see a group of boys motioning him over to their table. He glances at them before waving them off in refusal. You nudge him slightly, “We can go say hi if you want, I don’t mind.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in some parts, “Are you sure? I don’t want to take too much of your time?”

“Let’s go, your friends seem nice.”

Mark scoffs, “Please, they’re hardly my friends.”

When you both make your way to your table, you’re greeted by a series of hoots and hollers. Mark introduces each of them. He points at a taller boy, brunette, and as handsome as hollywood’s greatest movie stars, “This is Jeno.”

Jeno smiles at you, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. You’re sure your heart made flips at that. The loudest boy is named Haechan, jostling Mark by squeezing his thigh jokingly, “Is this your girlfriend?” he asks. You and Mark simultaneously shake your heads, refusing Haechan’s teasing. The next is Renjun, he seems more stoic than the rest. Similar to him, a girl whose hair is the color of burgundy plums sits beside him. Freckles dot her face, contrasted to the blueness of her eyes- you have to admit, she’s very pretty. Still, Mark introduces her as Lana and when you introduce yourself, it’s like daggers are being shot through her eyes. You suspect it has to do with Mark being next to another girl. When you’re finished introducing yourself to everyone, Haechan lets out a burst of laughter, “Y/n’s so sweet, if you don’t take her then I will!” as he slaps Jeno’s shoulder, Jeno rolls his eyes at the boy. Mark stares him down, grabbing your hand, “Y/n and I have a project to work on, we’ll be going now.”

You shout out a quick nice to meet you back to them, your eyes shifting to Mark’s fingers around your wrist. You don’t say anything as you let him drag you to the library- your hand becoming a little clammy. You hope he doesn’t notice it.

Sitting at some empty table near the shelves, he turns back to you, “Sorry about that back there. They’re rambunctious. They must’ve made you uncomfortable right?”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “Not at all really, they seem fun. You’re very lucky.”

Mark’s mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widening. You gesture to his fingers, “Mark, you’re still holding me?”

In a flash, Mark drops your hand, his palm flying to his mouth, “Oh god- I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize-”

You place your hands on his shoulders, “Mark. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He nods slowly, trying to fight the blush that creeps up his neck and his cheeks. He shakes it off, you realize how endearing he is. He sits down, opening up his philosophy books, “So, what should we do for the project?”

You twirl your pen in your hand, “Well, Professor’s prompt was we have to discover the secret of life right? What does that even mean?”

Mark knits his brows together, pouting his lips, “Good question. I think that’s what the assignment is- discovering it for ourselves?”

“How do we do that?”

“Let’s start making a bullet list. I do that when I’m weighing options.”

Mark starts to scribble on his notebook. “What does life mean to you?”

You look at him, your eyes instantly catching his. You have to look away. Life. Weather. Soulmates. Aspects of your world that you can’t fully understand. Your mouth feels dry. You think back to your parents, moments that you play in the dark by yourself, the things that you would do and experience but can’t. The words kind of tumble out from your lips, “Mark, do you believe in soulmates?”

Mark freezes. He sits in silence for a few seconds. He bites his lower lip, “It’s difficult to say. I mean, my parents are soulmates so I’ve just grown up thinking that I’ll have my own one day? But no, I don’t have anyone.”

You nod. You kind of mumble, “Yeah, I don’t have anyone either. I almost don’t want to believe in them.”

“Is there a reason why?”

“Not really, I just don’t get how two people can randomly become synched.” No, it’s because you’re afraid of love. You’re afraid of what will happen if you love someone so hard and they leave. 

“Ah, I see.”

You clear your throat, “Anyways, back to the prompt. What does life mean to you?”

“I think it could be a variety of things, my family, my friends, school? But I’m assuming that Professor doesn’t want generic answers. He said the creative category weighs the most points.”

And then it clicks in your head. Your gift- it’s what ties you back to your mom and your dad, seeing people happy when you are able to bend the weather to your will. You’ve never told anyone before. You thought people would look at you weird if you told them. Should you tell Mark?

Mark scrolls through his phone, long eyelashes accentuating the hood of his eyes. His lips pursed when he presses his fingers to the screen, “Hey- sorry, this is off-topic but what do you think is going on with the weather? Like one day it’s a hurricane and then sunny the next. Everyone’s talking about it on Twitter.”

“Mark, can I show you something?”

Mark snaps his head up, “Is everything okay?”

You smile, “Just trust me.”

You hand him his belongings as he messily shoves them into his backpack, “Where are we going?”

“Just don’t freak out.”

Mark makes a face at you, “When you say that it makes me freak out.”

You lead Mark to the roof terrace of the university, climbing the stairs in the pouring rain. People below run under the canopies as they use their books to avoid the rain. Mark gulps, “You know, I’m not the best with heights-”

You plant your feet on the ground, clasping your hands together. In your head, you repeat the words like a mantra, “I want sunshine today, let the heavens be sunny upon us.”

And like instant magic, glowing white rays start to sear the blackened clouds, the rain starting to cease. In the middle of the dark ocean above, patches of deep blue begin to emerge. Mark runs to the terrace railing, “Holy shit- are you doing that?”

When the rain is completely dissipated, you glance at Mark who’s staring at you with utter awe in his eyes, “I’m going crazy right? Is this some weird trip or something?” Mark’s voice cracks, his fingers clenching the base of his throat. 

You shake your head, “No, this is my gift. You’re the only person who knows about it.”

“You have the power to make it stop raining?”

“Not only that, but all weather forms. Whenever I pray.”

Mark clasps his hands together too, closing his eyes as he murmurs types of weather, “How come it’s not working for me? I go to church all the time with my family.”

You sock his arm, “No silly, it’s not normal for everyone. Just me.”

Mark lets out an elongated whoa, “How long have you had this gift?”

Suddenly, your throat turns hoarse, “Since my mom died.”

He stammers, his words coming out in a  trail of apologies, “I’m so sorry, I didn't know- I-”

“It was a long time ago. Still, I think I was given this gift to carry on my parents’ legacy, their connection of being soulmates even.”

Mark nods quietly. “That’s so cool. I’ve never met a weather girl before.”

You laugh at his nickname, “Weather girl huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

“I’ll change that to your contact name, you can bet on that.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“So, what do you do with your gift? How do you know when to change weather patterns?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t. When I walk around and I see or hear that someone need’s weather for a specific day, I try to help them out. I thought I’d try to do something good.”

Mark runs his fingers over his hair, “That’s amazing. That’s so admirable of you to do that.”

“It’s what my parents would have wanted. I do it for them too.”

Mark stands up straight, his finger pointing at you. It looks as if a light bulb is going off, “Say- I have an idea for our project. What if we started a business?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hear me out- we can call it Weather Girl Service. We can talk about money management and leadership skills in life, because that’s what adults do right? Pay taxes and bills?”

You laugh at his silly idea, “But why Weather Girl Service?”

Mark hops excitedly up and down, “We can make job postings in the city and have people pay us by the hour if you change the weather to fit their occasion! We’d be rich by the end of it! But wait- only if you agree, I don’t want to make you do something like that if you don’t want to.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you smile at him, “I’m up for it if you are. I don’t mind.”

“Really?! Are you sure?!” Mark looks like an overly-excited school boy, his backpack jumbled because of how fast he’s jumping. He scrunches his nose, fistpumping the air, “We’re so getting an A on this.”

“Yes, I sure hope so!”

With that, you and Mark plan to meet at your dorm room the next day to get started on the project. He texts you later that night, “3 pm sharp right?”

“Yes sir, 3p m- my room.”

“Alrighty, see you tomorrow!”

When 3 pm comes, Mark stands at your door, his hands full with a box of materials and supplies. 

You giggle, “You sure got reinforcements.”

“I have to be prepared!”

For the next several hours, you and Mark spend time designing different posters and infographics to upload online and staple to bulletin boards. Mark’s got a mark cap in his mouth, brows knit in concentration as he writes on his notebook.

Mark snaps his fingers together, “How about this: Weather girl at your service, you call and we’ll be there to help you get the memories that you want- birthdays, grad parties, work events, you name it! Submit your info to this number here!”

You flash him a thumbs up, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

All day you and Mark run around the city- posting your posters and fliers from anywhere you can find. You post them on benches, town hall bulletin boards, and the street lamps that line the sidewalk. And the whole time, you never take your eyes off Mark’s wide smile and sparkling eyes. You don’t catch that whenever you’re turned away, Mark glances at you to admire your features, your hair, and everything in between. Around 6pm, you walk beside Mark on one of the bridges that extends over the river. The sun sets in the horizon, colors of sharp marigolds and blush pinks paint the sky above. There was no way that you and Mark were going to run around the city in rain. Sighing out, you watch the sun cast a faint glow on Mark’s cheeks and the slender of his nose, making him out to be a painting that belongs in the museum. It’s almost like if you took a paintbrush that you could paint him yourself just to memorize it.

Mark fists the air in victory, “We had a very productive day today, don’t you think?”

You nod, “Of course. I don’t think anyone can resist our offer.” 

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

You’re suddenly caught off guard by Mark’s gratitude, though it is not too out of character. “I had fun today with you.”

Mark smiles at the ground, twirling when he walks like he’s skipping to the beat of his favorite song. You hear him mumble a cute, “Me too.”

For the rest of the way, Mark walks you back home to your dorm room. Even though you told him you were fine, he still insisted. 

“Well, this is me.” you say.

Mark scratches his nape, readjusting the strap of his backpack, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. The grand opening.”

You nod, “Yes, bright and early.”

You turn away from him as he watches you enter your building. You instantly wish that you could’ve placed a hasty peck to his cheek. It seemed irresistible in the moment. Though, you remind yourself to not get too comfortable. Little did you know that Mark spent the whole night thinking about you.

>But if I had met you today

Would I have loved you the same?

And if I had known it would take

Ten years and twenty-two days to stop loving you

Stop loving you, no

First day of business

“Mark, is this yours?”

Mark sits in the driver’s seat of his sunny yellow van- the kind that you’d make deliveries in. It looks bright under the gloomy, rainy skies.  He honks his horn obnoxiously once and twice as he scrunches his eyes together before saying, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Laughing, you launch yourself into the seat before Mark takes off with a faster speed. You shout, “If I die in a car accident today, half of the money we make goes to my aunt okay?”

Mark playfully rolls his eyes, “Stop it y/n, I’m the best driver in town!”

“Yeah, right-”

The first stop happens to be one of Mark’s dad’s friends. He requested that he was going to surprise his wife with an anniversary dinner and needed sunshine for that specific hour: Saturday, 6pm. When you arrived at the pretty farm home, the man greeted Mark instantly when you got out of the van. He shook your hand, eyes anticipating, “Is it true? You can really change the weather?”

You smile at him, “You need to see it to believe it and I’m here to deliver.”

The man puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder, “Here’s the compensation for your work today. I have to ask one favor of you.”

Mark quirks his eyebrow up, handing the wad of cash to you, “What’s that?”

“My wife and I want some private time, we’ve paid you extra so that you can watch our daughter?”

Mark’s jaw drops, “Watch your daughter? As in baby sit?”

“Yes, that’s right. We will give as much as you need.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, his eyes widened, “I don’t think-”

Before Mark can answer, you cut in, “We’d love to. What time does she need to be back?”

“8 pm.”

“Deal.”

Mark stands next to you, his face utterly flabbergasted from your confidence of the deal. You can tell that he’s freaking out inside. He’s panicking and it shows on his face. 

“Mari, please come out! One second-”

Through the front door, the man guides his 7 year old daughter to you both. And you’re sure that your heart does flips when you see her. She’s dressed in a princess dress, her eyes fluttering from sleep. She’s the spitting image of her father. She drags a blue blanket in one hand, rubbing her green eyes, “Daddy?”

Her dad motions to you and Mark, “You’ll be hanging out with Mark and y/n today. Mommy and I will be back in a few hours.”

“Okay..”

The man tells you about everything you need to know, when Mari needs to go to the bathroom, what she likes to eat, and every little thing she likes to do. 

“I think we’re all set now, any questions?”

You shake your head, “No sir, we’ll have her back by 8.”

He nods at you, “Good, see you both later.”

With that, Mari is left in yours and Mark’s hands. You crouch down to her level, waving at her lightly, “Hi Mari, my name’s y/n. Me and Mark will take you out today okay?���

The girl slowly blinks, clutching her blue blanket even tighter, “Are you my mommy for today?”

How have you not exploded from her adorableness yet? “Yes, just for a little bit until your real mommy comes back.”

She reaches up to cling to Mark’s pant leg, plopping down to sit on his shoe, “And you’re my daddy today?”

Mark glances down at her and back to you. He squeezes his eyes in mock pain, running his hand over his hair, “Sure, I’m your daddy.”

You nudge him, whispering, “She’s a kid, try to be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When you hop back in the van, you have Mari sit in your lap as you place the seatbelt over her body, making sure she is secure. Mark revs up the engine, driving slowly to the next location of requests. It doesn’t take long for Mari to fall asleep on your chest, you coo at her peaceful face. 

“I’m not good with kids- what did we get ourselves into?”

“Don’t be such a worry-wart! She’s so cute, look at her!”

“Can’t, I’m driving.”

“Don’t be grumpy Mark, you’ll have a family with your soulmate one day.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in soulmates.”

“Agh- you know what I mean.”

“Will she be okay when we’re working? We have 2 more requests to do.”

“She’ll be fine, relax.”

The next destination you arrive at is a farmer’s market at the heart of downtown. When Mark parks the car, you wake Mari, “Mari? Mark and I have to work so you just stick with me okay?”

Mari mumbles a disoriented reply, her cheek still resting on your shoulder. You arrive at a fruit stand where an older woman approaches you, “Mark and y/n?”

Mark smiles at her, “That’s us- you called the Weather Girl Delivery Service?”

“Yes. The other farmers didn’t want to believe me but I swear, I wanted to take a chance with this. As you can see, we can’t have our market with all this constant flooding and rain. It’s like the weather’s been on steroids.”

Mark flashes her with a thumbs up, “That’s why we’re here, we’ll get to work right away.”

“Y/n?”

You step forward to Mark, “You’ll have to hold her.”

Mark’s eyes widen with surprise, “Uh, okay.”

He cradles sleeping Mari so awkwardly, you have to guide his hands to support her bottom, “Mark, you have to hold her up or she’ll slip.”

Mark fumbles with his hands before adjusting her so her chin is on his shoulder, “I got her, don’t worry.”

You nod before making your way to the center of the market. Clasping your hands together once more, you pray that the sunshine will blow away the cyclone of the shadows and falling rains. Miraculously, it does. When you turn around, the woman stands next to Mark in awe spreading her arms out in glee, “It works! Haha! Take that you old goons!”

The rest of the farmers stand under the shade of the fruit stand, grumbling at the woman’s victory. You give her a hug once she sends you off with a wad of cash and three freshly squeezed juices for all three of you. When you settle back into the car, Mari still stays rested on your lap.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Mark rolls his eyes, a smirk plastered on his lips, “Okay, you win this time.”

“By the way, is this your first time holding a child?”

Mark laughs, “Don’t even patronize me right now.”

The third destination is a bit more serene. You arrive at an elderly woman’s home, her home similar to that of your aunt’s cottage. It’s decorated with wood and bamboo shoots, bells and windchimes hang from the roof shingles. Knocking on the door, the woman greets you. She’s an elderly Japanese woman, hair tied into a loose bun as she motions you to come inside with her cane, “Come in, come in.”

You both slip off your shoes, Mari awake as if sleep was a distant memory. The woman leads you to her dining room, pots of orchids and perilla leaves grow all over the counters and sink. There’s colorful painted murals of people and sceneries on the walls, smeared from the passing of time. History moves within the walls in a series of blurred colors. 

“Something to drink, kids?”

You and Mark decline, prompting Mari to mumble, “I’m thirsty.”

You hear the rumbling noise from Mari’s stomach, it is around lunch time. You ask for the woman for a glass of water but she waves you off with a smile. Instead, she cuts a slice of peach pie for Mari, the crust smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. She passes a pitcher of lemonade to you and Mark, sucking on lemon slices as she works.

Mark sits next to you on the bench by the dining table, “Thank you for the hospitality mam’, there’s no need to pay us for your request.”

You smile at Mark’s words, not wanting to take from the elderly woman either. When she’s done putting away the pie, she meanders over to you slowly as she pats down Mari’s silky black hair, “You kids are awfully young to have a child.”

Mark chokes on his tea, sputtering the liquid into his glass. It sends him into a coughing fit, “S-she isn’t our child- we’re just watching her for the day.”

You jokingly hit Mark’s back to get him to stop choking, “Oh no, we’re not married either- we’re just friends.”

The woman raises her brow like she knows some unspoken secret, “Friends?”

You and Mark glance at each other before awkwardly averting eyes. Even Mari talks with her mouthful of pie, “They’re my mommy and daddy for today!”

Mark mutters, “I’m not your real dad..”

The elderly woman is amused, her smile creating creases on her cheeks and on her temples, “Are you two at least soulmates?”

This time, you answer her almost too hastily, “No! We’re only classmates- friends- that’s all.”

Mark looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes dimming a bit. Was that disappointment? Hurt? His shoulders are drooping and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Did you say something wrong? It was a fact though, you and Mark weren’t soulmates.

You try to brush it off. The woman leans on her cane, “I need you kids for your strength. I would do it myself but as you can see, I’m not as young as I used to be. Help me move the orchids out back.”

Mark makes his way to the kitchen sink, roots overgrown on the counter top. You move Mari off your lap before turning to the elderly woman, “Could you please watch her?”

The elderly woman chuckles, “Sure, I have enough pie to keep her distracted.”

You politely thank her, making your way over to where Mark is putting the orchids into glass vases. He doesn’t say a word. You nudge him with your elbow a bit, “Is everything okay?”

His eyes are trained on his busied hands, “Mhm.”

“Mark, you don’t seem okay.”

“Nope, everything’s good y/n. Are you alright?”

“Well yeah, but..”

Mark bites his lower lip, “Good.”

He grabs both vases in his hands before walking over to the sliding door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He definitely wasn’t okay, you don’t want to push him any further. Instead, you pot the rest of the succulents and flowers in the kitchen.

“You know, that boy likes you.”

You turn around to see Mari snuggling up to the elderly woman, her dimples popping out from smiling. 

“Mark? No, we’re just partners for a school project.”

“That may be true but I’ve lived a long time, I know what love looks like. After all, I had a soulmate too.”

You lean against the edge of the counter, picking off the stray leaves off stems, “Let me guess- they left?”

“To the afterlife if that’s what you’re referring to.”

You stay silent. You’re not sure what to say. 

“Child, have you been hurt in the past?”

You snap your head up at her, setting the flowers down, “Why do you ask that?”

She clicks her tongue, “Being ignorant to feelings doesn’t count as being oblivious. Don’t let your past rip you of your opportunities.”

Your eyes shift to Mark standing outside, he sticks his hand out in the rain, water droplets crashing against his palm. 

“With all due respect, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“Shoot it at me. Guilt? Sadness? Grief? You forget I’m old. I’ve seen things.”

Mari pokes her arm, playing with the ribbon on the woman’s sleeve, “Can I have more pie?”

The woman frowns down at her, “You’ll be sick if you eat so much pie, wait for dinner.”

Mari huffs in response, brows furrowed in annoyance. 

“My point is, y/n, you have to learn to accept outcomes and heal. Don’t be stuck on your mistakes and your missed trials. Learn and grow from them. Ask yourself of purpose. Why are you doing this project? Why with that boy?”

Before you can answer her, you’re about to say it’s for the grade, maybe for the extra money. Deep down, you know that it isn’t that. You turn to look at Mark outside. He’s standing in the middle of the woman’s Japanese garden, eyes shut under the falling rain. And you swear, you’ve never seen anyone who’s any more beautiful. He looks so peaceful standing there, hair becoming wet from it. It reminds you of that day. 

She continues, “In my time, I’d normally enjoy the rain. But, my flowers are dying so I need you to bring the sun for today. I haven’t felt that ever since the city’s been raining non-stop.”

You nod, you know what you must do. You stroll over to the sliding door, opening it up to the garden. You approach Mark in the middle of the grass, watching him as he sticks his tongue out. When he opens his eyes, he jumps from being startled by you, “Whoa, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, I just wanted you to enjoy the rain about longer before I- you know.”

“Oh, right, go ahead.”

You do what you do best.The old woman steps onto her porch, Mari flying past her to catch up with you and Mark. You savor the coldness, the breeze, and the scents of drenched flowers. You want to try something new, something that you can see and feel all in one moment. In our head, you visualize a million colors. You think about the walls of the elderly woman’s home and the sunset glow on Mark’s face, your mother’s familiar smile. You think about Mari’s laugh and all the people you’ve made happy today. It paints tangerine oranges and lavender streaks, explosions of electric blues and sparkling greens. Clasping your hands together, you wish on the stars to send your vision into the sky. When you open your eyes, Mark’s holding Mari in his arms as her mouth falls open from the view. It worked. The sky above your heads has become an ocean of color strokes, clouds and stars swirling together. It’s the best configuration you’ve ever made. It looks like a real-life kaleidoscope. 

“Holy shi-”

Mark stops his words when he feels Mari’s small finger poking his cheek, “Look at what y/n made!”

You smile, pressing your hand to Mari’s head, “I made it for you! Do you like it?”

Mari squeals, “ Yes! Yes! Daddy, lift me higher!”

Your eyes fall on Mark’s. He gives you a knowing smile, eyes soft with adoration and glittering under the shooting stars. He lifts Mari onto his shoulders, “Hang on tight!”

She yelps, placing her hands on his head, “I want to catch the stars!”

Mark begins to spin around lightly, making airplane noises from his mouth. You laugh at the sight, turning to look back at the elderly woman. She winks at you, leaning on the pillar of her makeshift watering station for her succulents. After playing around under the cosmos, you finally greet the elderly woman goodbye, thanking her for her advice. Though you and Mark refuse, she shoves her cash into your hands, telling Mark to treat you- she says you're both welcome to her home anytime. Afterwards, you and Mark drop Mari at home as promised. You feel your heart swell when Mari starts to cry, Mark pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her into her father’s arms. He assures her that you and Mark will come to visit sometime, inviting you both to dinner in the future. Of course you agree. 

Mark drives you back to campus, walking you to your doorstep as always. He pulls out the money, splitting it evenly in half before handing it to you, “Your share as promised of course.”

You nod, taking the cash from him, “You know, doing this job- money is a bonus but I’m not doing it for that.”

Mark chuckles, his hands in his denim pockets, “I’m glad we can make people happy.”

A silent beat. “You know, uh, about earlier- I didn’t mean to come off weird. I think I was just in my head about something, I’m not sure.”

You’re not usually someone who makes the first move. The first leap. Mark doesn’t even have the slightest clue about what he’s doing to you, how he makes you feel. Do you like him? You’re almost certain of the feelings. You step forward, your nose almost brushed against his chest. Gingerly and slowly, your fingers find Mark’s hand, it makes him gulp from the sudden contact. His eyes are widened in confusion and you think he’s forgotten how to breathe. Looking up at him, you say, “It’s fun doing this with you- I’d rather not do it with anyone else.”

Mark nods but doesn’t say anything. His hands are shaking. You can hear the erratic beating in his chest and it takes every bone in his body not to grab your face and kiss you right on the spot. When he doesn’t say anything, maybe you think that you’ve scared him. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. You step back a bit, the air becoming less tense, “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something more but you’ve already shut the door. In Mark’s head, he’s let out a string of curses. Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t he say something? Why is he such a coward? He asks himself. Is it the right time? What if you don’t feel the same way?”

All night, he beats himself up for it, tossing and turning in his bed. 

The next couple months in your university fly by. Ever since that night, you and Mark continued as if nothing ever happened. One thing that did change was a gloomy, ominous blanket over the city- it almost felt apocalyptic in a sense. Weather forecasters predicted that with such heavy and continuous rains- the flooding, the city would be underwater in the next coming year. There might be an evacuation.

Still, you took it upon yourself to savor the time you would have left in the city. One of the things on your list was you wanted to get to know Mark’s world better. You know that he can’t eat dairy, he absolutely hates the texture of yogurt and he’s able to eat watermelon flavoring by the shot. It’s gross but it sounds like him. You and Mark eat at all your favorite lunch spots, watch comedies in the theaters, and hang out in each other's rooms. The business is going well, more and more people submit their requests for sunny days and sunsets, sometimes purposeful rain to play in. Mark drives in his sunny yellow van, sticking your hand out the window as your favorite songs blare from the speakers. You even have dinner at Mari's house. Her parents are shocked to hear that you and Mark aren’t together yet. The blush on your cheeks are the shade of ripe cherries. At the school, you sit with Mark’s friends practically for every meal. Everyone is fond of you, except Lana. Every time Mark tells stories about wacky customers or talks about how excited he is because you both received an A in philosophy class, Lana gives you a look. Vice versa, Mark glares at Haechan whenever he gets too close to you, he doesn’t say anything.

 You and Mark had started the business in the summer, the weather outside is more autumn-like now. You have to wear a scarf to class because of how chilly it is.  Leaves change to shades of burgundies and browns, falling off trees when they’re ready- it almost signifies the start of a new season- a new chapter of your life. 

Autumn

>Where did the time go?

You became someone I used to know

Where did the time go?

When you became someone I used to know

Used to know, used to know, used to know

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Y/n, the boys and I got tickets to the new amusement park. Wanna come?”

You text Mark back during your statistics class, “Of course, I’ll be there.”

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Meet us there at 6 pm. After that, can we talk? I need to ask you about something.”

“Okay.”

Going back to your dorm room, you walk with a pep in your step. You wonder about what Mark wants to talk to you about. Will he finally say something? Is it about the business? Does he think you’re too mean with your teasing? Anyway, you dress up in a cute outfit of your choice- nice shoes, a cotton knit sweater, and a corduroy skirt. You even tie your hair with ribbons that Mark gave you as a congratulation for 100 customers' gifts. You bought him a guitar pick then. 

By the time you reach the amusement park, you meet up with Haechan, Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung. Chenle had choir practice and Jaemin was on a date with some girl. Mark and Lana are nowhere to be found. 

“Hey, guys.”

Haechan sees you first, swinging his arm over your shoulders, “There she is- beautiful y/n.”

You attempt to push his weight off, “Haechan, you’re heavy- you’re going to break my shoulder bone.”

Jeno laughs, “I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

Renjun jumps in, “What should we do first? Ferris wheel? Laser tag? Mini-golf?”

“We’re not doing rollercoasters, not the upside down ones.” Jisung rolls his eyes, chewing his mint flavored gum.

Haechan smirks, “Jeez Jisung, you’re no fun- you can stay on the ground and video record us like a grandma.”

Renjun shoves Haechan, “I’m with Jisung on that one, unless you want puke all over your expensive jacket.”

“Fine, me and y/n will be up there.” Haechan leans down to whisper in your ear, “If you get scared, you can hang on to me.”

You awkwardly pat Haechan’s chest, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, thank you.” Haechan raises his eyebrows, his lips upturned in a smirk, “Whatever you say, y/n.”

You know that Haechan has a crush on you. Jeno and Jisung had told you so out of curiosity but doubted it from the start- they knew you had your eyes on Mark the entire time. Haechan could never compete. 

“Where’s Mark and Lana?”

Renjun snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up, “Oh yeah- Mark told me he was picking up Lana. I think they were hanging out before this.”

Haechan responds, “I’m not surprised. I think Mark will ask her out today, their families have known each other since birth.”

Your heart sinks. Oh, so there was someone else. It’s probably why Mark brushed you off that day. Probably why he’s never said anything since. You feel a bit sick in your stomach and you haven’t gone any roller coaster yet. You had spent this whole time pining for someone who’s not going to like you even as close as you like them. It’s been one-sided.

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when Jisung waves excitedly at Mark and Lana, both of them side by side. You feel weird about it. Renjun straight up, his finger pointing to the air, “Let’s do laser tag first, I call dibs being team captain.”

Jeno laughs, his eyes crinkling when he does, “Then I’m the other team captain.”

“Hey, y/n.” Mark comes up from behind you.

“Hey Mark. Hey Lana.”

 Lana says a barely audible, “Hey.”

Once you’re all split into teams, it goes like this: Jeno’s the captain of your team, you, Haechan and Lana are on team red. Team blue consists of Renjun as captain, Mark and Jisung. To compensate for the lack of team members, team blue gets a head start in hiding. When the game begins, you just try to have your best to have fun. You dodge around the glow in the dark pillars, aiming your gun at Renjun as he angrily fists the air from running out of ammo. Haechan and Jisung fight off to the death, freezing each other out. By the time the hour is done, it’s down to you, Lana and Mark. You try to devise a plan with her but she doesn’t seem to engage with you. All she tells you is, “I’ll get Mark out.”

Was that a warning? A phrase of double meaning? Maybe you’re just overthinking it because of envy. Down to the last three seconds, Lana and Mark face off in the middle of the playground. Before Lana shoots him, Mark fires first- the obnoxiously blaring alarm sounding off team blue’s victory. Jeno throws his gun down in frustration, you pat his back in comfort as you watch Mark laugh with Lana and Renjun. Who were you kidding? 

Haechan shouts, “Let’s go on the dragon ball coaster next!”

When you’re all in line for the coaster, Haechan whispers a joke about the man who’s dressed as a clown a few feet away, enticing park-goers into the circus tent. You laugh at the joke. To Mark, he’s burning with jealousy. He watches when Haechan, his friend’s lips almost touch your ear, your giggle from Haechan’s flirting. Mark tightens his fist, averting his eyes from a scene. He has yet to tell you but he’s waiting for the right moment. He doesn’t want to come off as the overly-jealous boyfriend when you aren’t his. He snaps out of it when Lana tugs his arm, “Can we go in the tunnel? I’m not good with coasters.”

Before Mark can answer, Renjun jokingly gags, “The tunnel of love? You guys are bound to moochie mooch in there huh?”

When Renjuns says such a thing, you don’t hear any of Haechan’s jokes anymore. You don’t hear the sound of Jeno jostling Jisung and Jisung whining about it. You just wait for Mark’s response. He stares back at you in silence, Haechan even stops talking to look at Mark looking at you. Your eyes trail down to see Lana’s clutch on Mark’s arm, tightening when she makes eye contact with you, “Mark?”

You can’t hold it in. It just falls out from your lips, “You two should go, there’s limited seats in the coaster cars anyway since we have an odd number.”

It’s like someone’s fed you bitter medicine. You grimace at your words, almost regretting them instantly. Jeno and Jisung give you a knowing look, they know. Haechan laughs, “Very true point y/n, you guys can head along.”

Mark ducks under the cue line, Lana scrambling to follow after him. Everytime she tries to cling on to him, Mark removes her hands politely, declining. It makes you feel even worse. Jisung and Jeno carry on with their conversation. Haechan looks at the pair, “They make a good couple don’t they?”

You just nod. Maybe they do. After the roller coaster ride, you don’t feel any better. Jeno and Haechan are screaming to go again and Renjun and Jisung opt to go get snacks at the candy shop by the merry go round. Haechan nudges you, “Let’s go again?”

You smile at them, “Actually, I think I’m going to go home. I don’t feel well- I think I ate something that expired this morning.”

Jeno frowns, “Are you sure? We can take you home if you want.”

Waving your hands in refusal, “No, no, you guys have fun- I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

You begin to walk away from them, a rising feeling in your stomach. You dig your fingernails into the skin of your hands. Do not cry right now. Mark’s just one person. But you know that it hurts too much to forget about him. You almost don’t hear it when Haechan is shouting at you to wait up, grabbing your wrist.

“Y/n? Can we talk? Oh-”

It’s too late. The dam is broken, your tears are starting to blur your vision. Not right now, not in front of Haechan. 

“Y/n.. what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes, “Nothing. I’m okay, I’m just tired and stressed about the business.”

Haechan’s face softens, he’s fiddling with the zipper on his expensive suede jacket, “I know this isn’t a good time but if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I can. I really, I mean really, like-”

You cut him off, “You like me. Right?”

Haechan becomes still. He freezes, slow blinking, “How did you know?”

“Any girl who can’t see it is more than oblivious. And, I appreciate it. I love you but not in the romantic way. I love you because you’re kind to me, you’re witty, and you make everyone in this group so happy. But I-I just I can’t- ”

“It’s Mark right? Jeno and Jisung told me.”

An awkward beat. You two don’t say a word. It’s just silence between you two, tears falling from your face and onto the pavement. Your nose is running and you’re sure that the other park-goers who pass by are staring at you two like some spectacle. 

“I’m sorry, Haechan. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Hacehan sighs, looking up at the blush pink sky that’s being consumed by inky storm clouds, thunder beckoning rain in the distance. He thinks to himself, I knew it was Mark all along. Why did he even bother? At the time, he thought it was worth the shot. Now, he looks at your crying face, the way your long hair falls over your ears. He takes it upon himself to put one strand behind your ear, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, “How could you hurt me? We’re friends and I’ll always care about you. I’ll be okay.”

You stare back at him, it makes the crack in your heart widen. The world is so unfair. It’s unfair to you and to Haechan, to your family. At least, Haechan has a chance of finding a soulmate who isn’t as broken as you. He’ll find some nice girl to laugh at his jokes, tease him when he whines, and buys him video games every holiday. You stand on your tippy toes because of how tall he is, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. You whisper, “You’re going to find a soulmate who will love you for eternity- I’m sure of it.”

>I think we must’ve known how it ended

When we wrote it on a napkin with tears and a pen

A couple of kids who pretended

Until it felt real in our heads

Haechan stares at the ground, not saying a word. You take off running, tears running down your face like it matches the hard beating in your chest. It always ends up like this. It’s like the world can’t give you one piece of happiness. You decide to walk home. Call it melancholy or stupid because you can catch a cold, but you’re not in the mood to ask anyone for a ride. You walk on the streets alone, rain coming hard on you. Your hair, your outfit, all of it soaked. And you’re sure that you’ve lost one of your hair ribbons from running. You don’t have strength in you to wish for sunshine. Concerned mothers ask if they can buy you an umbrella and you just decline politely. It hurts, the smell of the rain and mixing of your tears. Your feet are blistered and drenched. In your pocket, your phone vibrates continuously. Mark’s asking where you are and you don’t have it in you to see his stupidly dumb, dorky, adorable face. 

Dragging your feet along the pavement, the rain only comes down harder. There’s barely anyone on the streets and cars zip by, splashing puddles onto the cement. Your lungs are choked up from your sobs. That’s when you hear it, a voice calling out to you from a distance. You don’t want to turn around but you can’t stop yourself from doing so. You can’t resist it.

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

“Wait! y/n!”

You freeze in your tracks, your back faced to the boy who’s ran all this way to catch up to you. He’s got his hands on his knees, coughing from how fast he had to move. You still don’t turn around, you just feel it. “Let’s talk Monday, I’m not in the mood.” You speak slowly so he can’t recognize the cracks in your voice. 

You feel Mark step closer to you, “Why’d you leave? I was going to talk to you, remember?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. You turn around, your tears blurring the vision of a rain-soaked Mark in front of you, “I can’t do this with you anymore!”

Mark freezes, his eyes trained on you. He doesn’t even blink. He stands a few feet away, a crushed and now wet gift box in his hand. “Y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, trying to breathe air into your lungs, “All this time, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused about all of it. You’re confusing me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, I’m so stupid!” You wipe your tears, the thunder roaring above your heads. The water doesn’t cease at all. The weather matches the burn in your heart. You heave, continuing, “I have to go. See you in class,  Mark.”

Before you can walk away, you feel a firm hand on your wrist. 

“Y/n. Look at me.”

You whimper, “I can’t,”

“I said look at me.”

Reluctantly, you face Mark, he’s still holding your wrist. You gaze up at him. His hair is matted against his forehead, cold droplets on his cheeks and trailing down to his chin. His jacket looks heavy and now, there’s barely space in between you. It all happens so fast, he drops the white gift box to the ground, clasping both of his hands on both sides of your face. He’s so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath, see every detail that makes him himself, every little memory and trait. 

You search for some sort of sign, trying to calculate his next move, “What are you-”

He cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours, powerfully and desperately. You melt and your mind’s being clouded by foggy thoughts, his arms supporting you by holding your body up. You’re surprised your knees haven’t given up yet. Mark molds his lips to yours, it’s a back and forth of wet, open-mouthed kisses under the crash of the rain. You both don’t mind. He continues to kiss you like that, eyes shut, pressing his lips harder and harder until you can’t breathe. Your fingers claw through his soaked hair, noses against cheeks, and you reel back to gain more access. His hands move to the make of your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek. He groans when your tongue meets his, your bodies becoming hot despite the icy crystals falling down on you. You part from him, Mark chasing your lips in response, “Let’s go home and then we’ll talk.”

He swipes the remainder of your tears away, you nod. The whole time you walk home, Mark doesn’t let go of your hand. In fact, he holds your body close to his. You decide to go to Mark’s room tonight. He shuts his door, handing you a towel, “You shower first. I’ll go after.”

You protest, “I’m okay- I don’t really have anything to wear anyway.”

Mark throws one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts at you, “Wear these, I don’t want you to get sick.”

You smile, “Thanks.”

After a nice long, hot shower- the rain seems more peaceful outside of Mark’s dorm room window. The only light source he has is a lamp that sits on his desk, the print on the lampshade covered with lions. He must’ve had that when he was little. When Mark’s down showering, he wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to kiss Mark again. He sits on his bed next to you, moving his guitar out of the way, “So, what happened?”

You sigh, “When I saw you with Lara, I couldn’t, I don’t know, see you with someone else.” Mark chuckles, “Were you jealous?”

You look at him in the dark, punching his arm slightly, “No- don’t even dream of it.”

“What if I told you I was jealous of Haechan?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “You were?”

Mark rolls his eyes, “Are you kidding? He was practically whispering in your ear and being so close, you know he likes your right? He told me and I told him to go for it but I messed up, I shouldn’t have.”

You play with the frayed thread on Mark’s t-shirt, “He told me, I turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, you know why.”

Mark presses his finger to his eyes, covering his nose in embarrassment, “I like you y/n.”

You don’t even register when he says it. 

You were still talking about something but you pause when Mark’s words echo in your head, “After that kiss? I was hoping that’s what you were going to say.”

You and Mark erupt into a giggling fit, shoving each other. Then Mark pulls out something from behind him, it’s the squashed white gift box. He bites his lip, causing it to glow pink, “I was planning on telling you today and giving you this but someone took off.”

“Sorry about that.”

Mark shakes his head, grinning. He pulls out a tiny, gold necklace that’s in the shape of a sun. Even in the dark, it glimmers. You touch it tenderly, afraid it’ll break in your fingertips, “You got this for me?”

Mark nods, “Can I put it on?”

You turn your back to him, holding up your hair in a ponytail for his nimble fingers to clasp the necklace onto your neck. The cold metal of it soothes your skin. 

You touch it, running your fingers over the charm, “It’s beautiful, thank you. For the record, I like you too Mark.”

But in the back of your mind, there’s that shadow that always remains. It takes the form of fear, uncertainty- telling you that you do not deserve happiness or you do not deserve to love anyone. Still, it doesn’t stop Mark from leaning over to you and kissing you once again. He uses his fingers to trace your hair and the hollow of your neck, the side of your arm. It makes you shiver, it makes goosebumps rise in hills. You grasp his black locks, lips once again moving in a syncopated wave. Mark mumbles several hums, addicted to the taste of the way your lips feel. You want Mark. You want him so badly it kills you. You’re afraid to fall and it makes you want it even more. Pulling his hoodie, you fold your legs over his lap, straddling him. It makes him heated, blush spotting his cheeks and his neck. He runs his soft hands over the skin of your thighs and traces the waistband of your shorts. You’re trying your best not to lose self-control. It goes out the window when he removes his hoodie, his skin glowing under the lamp light. 

You run your thumb across his collarbone and the curves of his abdomen and chest like you’re connecting constellations. You press your swollen lips to the base of his collarbone, rubbing your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder, “Have I ever told you that you’re gorgeous?

”Mark doesn’t answer, he’s busy tipping his head back, shutting his eyes from the feel of your lips on his skin. He opens his eyes before leaning over to move your hair behind your ear once again, nibbling on your earlobe. You accidentally moan when he moves to the juncture of your neck, it turns Mark on even more. He swipes his tongue by the base of your neck, “I.” A kiss. Don’t know if.” A kiss. “You remember this.” A kiss. Mark parts away to finish his sentence, “I remember you from that night at the hospital. Do you remember me?”

That’s when you snap out of it. You gaze back at him, replaying everything in your head. Your mom. The shrine. The gift. The sun and the rain. You slide off his lap, touching the area of your shoulder. The shadow in your mind, the voice in your mind telling you not to give in.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You nod, “Yes, I remember you. When we first met, I said that we didn’t because everything that day was so blurry that I cut it out of my memories. But for what it is, I remember you.”

Mark looks sad, immediately regretting he even brought it up. You mold your hand to his cheek, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad I met you back then, that will never change.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he finds a spot pinging, a tiny glow appearing on his hand. When you look down too, a glow appears on the same spot of your hand. After a couple seconds, the glow forms into the shape of a sun, Mark’s name glowing above it. Mark’s glow forms into the shape of a raindrop, your name glowing on his hand in cursive letters.

You both look at each other and back to your hands, “Does this mean-”

He lets out a breath he’s been holding, “You’re my soulmate?”

While Mark’s ecstatic, you feel a weight just drop in your stomach. No. Not right now. Mark realizes you’re staring at your hand, you look as if you had just seen a ghost. You almost wished you had.

“Is everything alright? Did I-?”

Instantly, you grab Mark’s hands, “I need you to listen to me carefully okay?”

Your hands are shaking now and you feel like you’re going to burst into tears again. This is the worst thing that you can do to someone, this is why you were reluctant to have Mark in the first place. You love him so much you can’t bear to hurt him like this. 

“Y/n… what’s happening?”

Slowly and delicately, you lift off Mark’s t-shirt over your head. Mark’s expression is utterly, painfully blank. He stares at you, unmoving.

“What is that?”

Though you’re in the dark, it shines brightly clear. The skin of your shoulder is completely coated with this invisible matter, tiny bubbles floating through it. It resembles the rain. The thing is consuming your shoulder and gaps of your chest are missing. No person could tell if they didn’t see your naked body. 

Mark leans forward, running his hand over your shoulder, his fingers go right through your body like it isn’t there. 

“Please tell me this isn’t real. This is just a joke right?”

You place your head in Mark chest, your arms hugging his bare waist, “I found out my gift comes with a price. My body is becoming a part of the weather, a part of the sky above. Ever since that day I stepped into the shrine on top of the hospital, I saw water floating upwards- this is the consequence for toying around with nature.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. He thinks for a moment. He grips the comforter you both sit on top of. Then, he speaks, “Can’t I fix this?! There has to be a way- maybe if I go to the shrine and figure something out-”

You release him, putting your hands on both sides of his face, “You can’t. I’ve tried everything. I even went to a priest, a shaman, anyone I could find. You heard about the forecasters talking about the floods right? As long as I’m here, this city will be underwater. I’m a glitch in the system. I’m the virus in the code, blocking the world from being natural.”

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

Mark begins to cry. Tears fall from his eyes, dropping onto the skin of your hand. All you can do is hug him as tight as you can, fearful that if you let go- you can’t have him back, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I’m so so sorry.”

Mark sobs into your shoulder for the next hour or so. When he’s tuckered out from crying, you put him to bed, standing up to walk towards Mark’s desk. You decide to write letters to your aunt, Mari, and your friends. You even leave one for Lana. When you’re finished, you slip under the covers next to Mark. You use your fingers to touch his eyelids and his nose, his cheeks and the ruffle of his hair because you know it will be the last time. Pressing a kiss to his nose, you settle against Mark’s chest, knowing the sky will claim you in the morning. 

In the morning

The next morning, Mark wakes up from what he thinks is a nightmare. He sweats profusely, he feels dehydrated,and his throat feels like it’s being ripped open. The worst part is when his heart begins to settle, he sees his own hoodie and basketball shorts where you had lay next to him. Though he wasn't awake, he remembers it all. He remembers you sitting at his desk, you kissing his nose. He remembers your warmth. This can’t be the end. Mark takes the first morning train to the hospital. He calls his friends, Jeno, Renjun, and Haechan to the hospital. Over the phone, he tells them he’ll explain later, he just tells them that you need them. They drive there as soon as the train departs. From arriving at the hospital, everything is like a blur. The hospital staff doesn't want to let some random teenage boy up onto the room, warily suspicious of the request.  

That's when Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun risk it all for you and Mark, tackling and holding back the employees even if they’re radioing security at that very moment. Mark races up the stairs after grabbing the keys to the door, he remembers when those were his keys. He talks to himself. Please. Please. I have to see her. I have to see her one last time. He even prays to whoever’s up there about it. To his dismay, when he gets up there- he doesn’t see a shrine like you had described. He kicks the metal railing out of anger, screaming into the air as he calls out your name. He demands the sky to give you back. No one answers and it kills him.

From up there, you wake up in an unfamiliar scenery. You sit up, groggy from sleep. Looking down at your hands, you don’t believe it. Water takes the form of you, replacing your skin with invisible liquid. You’re sitting on what seems to be like a cloud, fish made out of rain droplets flying all around you in schools. When you look above you, it’s another world. A whale made of thunder clouds lets out a bellow, voices of children laughing when lighting strikes. There’s a castle floating in the distance, each level of the castle painted with different hues of color. It’s all eerily beautiful. Despite its beauty, no one’s around. You’re all alone. 

You touch your shoulder, only feeling nothing but water. Your body isn't real. It means the sky has completely and entirely claimed you. That’s when you feel a cold metal thing hanging around your neck. Mark. Mark’s still down on earth. You begin to hold onto it, the chain slipping out of your fingers and through the cloud that you sit on, you scream Mark’s name as loud as you can. You cry and you scream, sobs wracking your entire body. That was the last piece you had connected to Mark, your soulmate. This is your consequence. What good are soulmates if there’s only one half to the whole? What is the point? Even so, you love Mark so much. You miss him.

Mark screams at the sky, tears lining his eyes. He sees something shine above him, dropping onto the pavement by his foot. When he crouches down for a better look, it’s the sun pendant that he gave you last night. He squeezes it in his hand, screaming for you. There is no answer. 

In front of him, some shape materializes from a blurry image. When it focuses, it morphs into a red archway just as you had told him in the library. He runs up to it, desperate for any sign of you. He asks your name. Still, there’s no answer. He takes it upon himself to do the unthinkable. Maybe he’s crazy, maybe people will think he’s insane. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to see you. He steps under the red archway. He feels it within his body. The bells that hang by strings chime, the water from inside the stone fountain begins to flow upwards like slow motion evaporation. Then all of a sudden, he’s falling.

Winds rip his clothes and rip through his hair, he’s screaming. Everything is a blur of white clouds and flying animals made of water. He hears the thunder and sees the lightning too, it’s all consuming and real. He knows he’s not on earth anymore. That’s when the clouds begin to part, he sees you sitting there. You’re crouched up on a cloud, head buried in your knees. He screams for you, causing you to snap your head up at the voice. It can’t be. It can’t be Mark. But it is, the boy who is your soulmate is falling out of the sky above, emerging from the clouds and reaching out for you.

 The wind gusts him away from the cloud you’re sitting on, “MARK!’

“Y/N!”

You don’t care at this point. You jump off your cloud, the wind current carrying you to Mark before you’re free falling with him. You outstretch your hand to him, your voice can’t be heard in the screaming wind. He reaches to you, straining his face while doing so. When he manages to grab hold of you, he’s surprised to know it feels like he’s holding a person given your body. You fall together, hands enclasped in hands. You yell, “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!”

Mark holds on so tight, “I had to see you! I’m not letting you go, I don’t care! Aren’t you my soulmate? You have to stay with me!”

“Mark, if I go back down there, we all have to pay the price. Just let me go!”

“I’m not doing it y/n! I won’t do it! I don’t care! I choose you over the weather! I choose you over the sky! I just need you.”

You smile at him. Oh, Mark. Then, something else happens. Mark’s teardrop starts to glow golden, the light enveloping the entirety of his arm and spreading to his body. Even though your hand is made of water now, your sun starts to ping in syncopation with Mark’s mark. Golden light shimmers, rays exploding like sunshine as Mark holds you close. He’s there and he’s real, you can smell his scent of body soap that he uses, he’s so warm. The world blurs together in a series of colors and emotions, blues and yellows and silvers. It’s layers of rain and layers of snow, it’s as if you’re falling out of the cosmos and it’s endless.The sensation of falling ends. You open your eyes slowly, you find yourself cradled in Mark’s chest on the hospital’s rooftop. Your head aches and it throbs like hell, but still, you jump back when you realize that your body isn’t liquid anymore. Mark pulls your shirt down to check your shoulder, it’s nothing but human flesh and bone. You gaze back at Mark, “You saved me. You pulled me back down.”

It doesn’t take any time for Mark to kiss you the hardest he’s ever kissed you. You both sit there for a while, cradled in each other’s arms. Mark digs his nose into your neck, “I can’t live without you. You’re my soulmate, there’s no one else.”

You nod as you run your fingers through his hair, “You and me against it all then.”

1 year later

>Where did the time go?

Where did the time go?

When did you become someone I used to know?

Where did the time go?

After the day that Mark pulled you down from the sky, you thought that you’d spend every second with each other after. Instead, it was the opposite. Because you were on earth, the rains and the flooding never stopped. You weren’t able to control the weather anymore and the outcome that the forecasters had predicted became true. Almost 50 percent of the city was already underwater and still sinking, many people died trying to escape the floods or had to quickly evacuate. It disrupted everyone’s lives but at the time, Mark thought it was worth it for you. After that day, you told him you decided on something. You told him that you loved him and that you’d always find your way back to him, no matter what. After all, soulmates become linked. During your last semester of university, you wanted to spend time with your family and to travel the world with your aunt- in case the sky were to claim you once again. In case you were told that the world would end tomorrow, you wanted memories that lasted and time to tell all the people in your life that you loved them. You wanted to heal from your past, trying to find ways to connect to your parents like meeting their relatives or reading your father’s journal. 

Somehow, Mark took it well. Though he was sad for several days, as were your friends that you were leaving (yes, you explained to them the entire situation, they still have a hard time believing it). You knew that things would change. You’d pick up small updates here and there, graduation was approaching and Mark had chosen to participate in a training program to become a singer. Haechan found his soulmate at his work, the other boys doing their own thing. You hadn’t seen Mark in almost an entire year. Now, today was the day that you and your aunt would be coming back from a backpacking trip in Europe. You knew Mark would also be coming home the same day. On the plane, you thought: Did he forget you? Would he have found someone else? Does he remember it all? 

The moment you landed, you changed at home- walking over to the coffee shop where you and Mark had planned business meetings frequently back then. Walking through your city felt nostalgic to you, the way your younger self ran through the streets, praying for tomorrow’s sunshine or the way you and Mark would hang out together most weekends. Even the memories of hanging out with your friends before class, walking Mosby with your aunt during the autumn season, and pasting photographs on your dorm room wall felt like long ago. Upon entering the establishment, you closed your umbrella before taking a seat at an empty table. A barista took your order, who happened to be one of your other classmates from university. Even seeing them after a year, which isn’t too long- still felt surreal. 

The bell on the cafe’s door chimes, the barista at the counter greeting the stranger. That’s when a familiar voice makes you snap your head up. There he is, standing in the flesh in front of you. Mark sports black dress pants and a button up, his figure taller, leaner- more muscular, has he been working out? Mark’s hair is gelled back, different from how he looked before. It looks good on him. His familiar smile spread across his face, a teardrop glowing golden on his hand, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

You nod, running into his welcoming arms. 

@czennienet​ @neowritingsnet​ @dreamwritersnet​

[unsettledink]

Gotcha Chapter 6!

(Trying something new and posting the full text here as well as AO3? It feels too long, but I’ve posted longer things here before, Idk.)

Read on AO3

Peter: sorry im on my way!

Peter: iswear im just running late

Peter: i will be there supr fast!!

Peter: sorry!

Quentin stares down at his phone and somehow, manages not to sigh. It’s a full ten minutes past when they were supposed to meet, and he doesn’t even want to be here in the first place.

Quentin: Don’t worry, it’s fine.

Peter: im sosorry

Peter: my alarm got set for tomorroow instead of today

Peter: i dont even know how

Peter: adn i just woke up and i dont even sleep this late like ever

Peter: but i willl bet there soon i promise

Peter: sorry!

Quentin: Really, it’s fine! There’s no hurry.

Quentin: We’re not exactly on a schedule or anything.

Peter: its so rude tho

Peter: for once it wast me losingt rack of time!!

Peter: im still sorry!

Quentin had given himself a little extra time this morning, just to remind himself of all the many, many reasons he is doing this, in this particular way. Had spent that time summoning up every bit of patience he could find to get through this day, because he had a feeling he was going to need it.

It feels like he’s already used half of it.

And of course he won’t be able to comment on Peter’s lateness, not even as a joke.

Peter: im like hafway there already illl just have to chagne and then ill be there!

Peter: seriously i am so sorry

Normally he’d be all for hearing Peter apologize, but it keeps happening every other word, Quentin will lose his mind.

He’s already losing his mind.

Well, he’s not going to just stand here until Peter does show up. He glances around for somewhere to sit; there’s a coffee shop just across the street. Perfect. He’s going to need that.

Quentin: Hey, don’t rush!

Quentin: I’ll just grab a coffee okay?

Quentin: I’ll be over at Kaldi’s, it’s just across the street. Can’t miss it.

Quentin: You want anything?

Peter: you dont haveto!

There’s no stopping the sigh this time. God.

Quentin: Not what I asked, kiddo.

Peter: um

Peter: suure?

Peter: someting with carmel i dont care mych

Peter: ill be there realy soon tho!!

Quentin: Then we can just sit for a bit.

Quentin: You’ll probably need it if you just woke up.

It’s a little funny how… drastically downgraded Peter’s texting is when he’s apparently still half asleep. Or maybe it’s just that he’s in a hurry. Or—

Quentin nearly stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He— surely, Peter isn’t—

Quentin: Are you texting AND webswinging?

Peter: …maybe?

No wonder he goes through phones so fast.

Quentin: You’re going to drop your phone

Peter: hey! imst icky! i wont drop it!

Quentin: Then you’re going to fall from being distracted

Quentin: And I won’t feel sorry for you.

Peter: :(

Quentin: I’ll laugh

Peter: :( :( :(

Quentin: You brought this on yourself.

He spends the time until Peter gets there reviewing Lynn’s newest plans for the miniaturized drones; they actually aren’t too bad.

Of course, they’ve probably had them sitting, waiting, for months, what with how they’ve harped on and on about how this should be a priority.

It won’t do to let them get too full of themselves, so along with the praise he sends back plenty of potential revisions. Even brings up some entirely new bits for them to consider; should keep them busy for a bit.

“Hi!” Peter says, flinging himself down across from Quentin. He’s flushed and still out of breath, his hair sticking up. “I’m here! I’m so sorry!”

Quentin allows himself a slightly amused smile. “Hi,” he says. Pushes Peter’s drink—some sort of ridiculously sweet caramel flavored thing that’s barely coffee at all—across the table to him. “Sit. Drink. Relax a bit, okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, running a hand through his hair and only making things worse. “Yeah, okay. I’m sorry, though. I’m just… it’s really embarrassing to be that late when this was my idea in the first place and—”

“Peter,” Quentin says, cutting him off. “Breathe! It’s fine, I promise.”

For once, Peter listens, and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment. Lets it out and relaxes the smallest bit, and grabs his drink. “Oh,” he says. “This is good! Thanks; you were right about me needing it.”

Quentin watches while he unwinds; Peter’s latest idea regarding ‘things they could do together’ was to show Quentin around Queens, so today they’re wandering. Quentin’s thrilled.

It could be worse. Peter had been all set up to take him to the most popular, well known, touristy spots, and Quentin had barely been able to hide his dread at the thought. It’d taken a little work, but he’d manage to convince Peter that Quentin would much rather see Peter’s favorite places. Even if they were nothing fancy or exciting, or little hole in the wall type places, or silly.

Even if they bored Quentin to tears.

Not that he can let Peter see even a hint of that. There’s a special kind of… vulnerability in sharing the smallest things you like, something different than exposing the larger, more damaged pieces of yourself. Something oddly hopeful about showing someone the unexplainable, intimate things you like and waiting for them to enjoy those things as well. Or at the very least, not reject them, in a way that suggests they’re rejecting your tastes as well.

Not rejecting you.

He’s started to prove to Peter he can handle the bigger things, the superhero stuff and the feelings nearly suffocating Peter; time to show that he can be trusted with the little things too. That Peter can come to Quentin with anything at all. Anything. Everything.

“So,” Quentin says. “What’s first?”

He was right; it is pretty boring. Not… awful, surprisingly, but not Quentin’s sort of thing at all. Peter’s apparently decided to try and cover as many miles as he can in one day, dragging Quentin from one end of Queens to the other. And then back; Quentin’s going to take tomorrow off for sure. Peter just has so much energy.

Has so much enthusiasm, Quentin thinks, as they poke through a small used record store that isn’t nearly as hipster as he expected from Astoria. So, so much enthusiasm, for the smallest things. It just bursts out of him once he gets comfortable and isn’t second guessing every single word he says.

Once Quentin has seemed interested in the first few things Peter shows him. Peter’s nervous about it, trying to explain away any shortcomings before Quentin’s even gotten in the door. He’s just desperate for approval, for acceptance. For Quentin to like him.

It’s not that hard to, actually.

It’s never been that Quentin dislikes Peter. Sure, Peter’s causing him grief and can be incredibly annoying, and sure, about half of what he feels for Peter is pity, but those can exist alongside the fact that Quentin kind of likes Peter.

Has liked him, ever since he started compiling research on him, ever since he’d met Peter as Mysterio and shook his hand and watched him get so excited over the existence of multiverse. It’s harder not to like Peter, not even a bit. He’s ridiculously smart, and stupidly good-natured, and—

He throws himself into everything he does; goes full out, with his heart on his sleeve. It’s no wonder he gets anxious as hell, if his first impulse is to practically flaunt all his soft spots, open and eager and expecting the best. It’s going to go poorly more often than not.

Must have, judging by the way Peter pulls himself in and hides, overrides that instinctual reaction so quickly it’s just a flash, a glimpse Quentin keeps catching again and again. He’s been taught to second guess himself somewhere along the way, by someone—probably a lot of someones—who saw those tender spots and couldn’t help poking them, taking advantage of them.

Just like Quentin’s doing; Peter should be better about spotting that sort of thing by now.

It’s almost a shame to fix Peter just to tear him apart completely, to have to use him like this, but… well. In the end, Peter’s nothing but another obstacle scattered in Quentin’s path. There are far more important things to worry about than the fate of one kid.

Peter grins at him when Quentin admits that this dinky little secondhand bookstore in Jamaica was worth a stop, even if it’s just for the most comfortable couch Quentin has ever sat on. Smiles when he points out a mural he loves on the way to the next attraction and admits he’d actually webbed up someone who started to tag it.

Straight up laughs at Quentin’s face when Peter shows him the most supremely creepy things in some huge thrift store, full of weird antiques and vintage crap. God, it’s disturbing that the things Quentin had as a kid, even as a teen, are considered vintage now.

“Jesus, Peter,” Quentin says after he has to look at a one hundred percent haunted taxidermied squirrel. “Why would you make me see that? I’m going to have nightmares.”

“For that exact face,” Peter says. “Oh my god, you look like you think it’s going to bite you!”

“It might,” and it’s unfair that Peter just laughs harder. He glares at Peter, but it might be slightly put on.

He’s allowed to like Peter a little, Quentin decides, watching Peter nearly double over with giggles. It’ll make having to deal with him easier, if nothing else, and it’s not as though liking someone has ever stopped him from using them—even disposing of them—in the past. It sure won’t this time.

They wander some more, Peter chattering on and easily filling the silence as long as Quentin remembers to make the appropriate listening noises occasionally. Every now and then, Peter hesitates, a nervous stumble in his words, something throwing him off, and Quentin reengages fully. He can’t afford to let Peter get too caught up in his thoughts.

But a few questions—carefully designed to make Quentin seem far more interested than he is—are enough to get Peter going again, bouncing from place to place until Quentin suggests they could use something to eat.

“Oh my god, yes,” Peter says. “I’m starving and didn’t even realize it. Ooo, last time we were down here, Ned and I found this awesome truck that does crazy good Korean barbeque, you’d love it.”

“No,” Quentin says without thinking, the sweet tart burnt smell so strong he can nearly taste it, can feel it stinging when he draws in a breath.

He twitches, shrugging it off, and tries to walk back how sharp that had come out. “Uh, I’m not big on sweet sauces and meat?” he says. “Got another recommendation?”

Peter drags him to a place that has the weirdest chimichanga combinations—and normal ones too, thankfully—and once again, attempts to pay.

“You know,” Quentin says as he pokes Peter out of the way, immensely irritated that Peter is still pushing him on this. “I didn’t realize your memory was this bad.”

“Hey!” Peter says. “It’s not! What are you talking about?” like that doesn’t prove Quentin’s point exactly.

“I seem to remember a bet I won,” he says, “relating to this exact situation.”

Peter opens his mouth to protest, and then closes it. “Um,” he says.

“Yeah,” Quentin says,raising his eyebrows.

“Okay,” Peter says, “okay, you can’t blame me for trying!”

“Hmmm,” Quentin says, passing over one of the foam trays. “You’re forgiven. This time. Just don’t do it again.” It’s always a good idea to get Peter into the habit of following Quentin’s rules, of remembering not to challenge Quentin too much.

Of remembering that Quentin will forgive him anything, easily.

“Fine,” Peter says through a mouthful, so mature.

They eat on the way to the next stop on Peter’s little tour; Quentin had been hoping they were approaching the end, but when Peter looks at him and asks, so hesitantly, if Quentin is tired and wants to call it a day—

Well he can’t say no.

Quentin finds himself dragged on to little half hidden shops, with any signage and down stairs that Quentin has to ask how Peter could have found in the first place. To statues Peter likes, to places he feeds pigeons—why he’d want to, Quentin doesn’t know—places with great views of the Hudson.

And, over and over, once Quentin catches on and starts pushing it, places to eat. Because Peter’s metabolism is a thing of wonder.

It’s interesting watching Peter banter back and forth with an older man about his sandwich; Quentin had gotten the impression Peter was uneasy around strangers, all his awkwardness amping up. But the way Peter’s interacted with people today is much more relaxed, much easier. Peter has a sharp sense of humor that Quentin has only started to see, as Peter gets comfortable around him.

Why do all these strangers get it right off the bat?

He watches Peter dart over to help get a stroller over a curb and— they’re not strangers. Not really. It’s not just that everywhere they’ve gone is somewhere Peter has been again and again, to the point where he knows people.

This is Peter’s home ground. His comfort zone, and the people in it— they’re his people. And when he’s helping them, his nerves disappear. His awkwardness becomes a tool of its own, disarming, downplaying the threat Peter could so easily be.

This is what he wants to be when he’s Spider-Man; the guy on the street, helping in a hundred tiny ways.

That’s fine with Quentin. Perfectly fine; now how does he get Peter to stay there, with EDITH looming over his head?

He can practically hear that in William’s voice, ugh. He’s working on it.

They wind up in Kissena late in the afternoon, almost early evening, really. Peter steps off the path once they get into one of the more wooded areas, and there’s a grassy spot past a few bushes, with a truly massive tree near the center, smaller ones scattered around it. It’s well hidden.

“Alright,” Quentin says, as he has with every other place, “what's the story behind this? How’d you find it?”

“So, when I got bit, when everything changed?” Peter settles down at the base of the tree, cross legged. “One of the things that was like, a huge pain, was how all of my senses got crazy amplified. Everything was turned up to eleven, you know?”

Quentin sits across from Peter, stretching his legs out as he leans back. Ugh, grass; he’d better not end up with bug bites. “Okay,” he says. “Sounds like that was pretty overwhelming.”

Peter groans. “You have no idea! It was really hard for a while, because even once I started to get used to everything being too loud and too bright and too smelly and— things tasted weird and my clothes made me feel like my skin was crawling and it was—” He stops, tipping his head back against the tree and looking upward.

“It was a lot,” he says. “Eventually I sorta started being able to deal with all that sort of… feeling stuff? I mean, physical, sensory, not like feeling feelings.”

Coherent; Quentin does not roll eyes through sheer force of will.

“But I was still really struggling with the, um,” Peter frowns, tips his head back further until Quentin can’t really see his face. “The stuff in my head. Actually doing things, thinking about things or even focusing on one thing was all so hard. It was like…”

“It was like what?” Quentin asks, after a few moments have passed.

“Everything was a distraction,” Peter says, slowly. “That’s still not right, because normally, before, I’d get distracted thinking about something else I wanted to do, or I’d be daydreaming, or, um, just, good stuff? Stuff that I’d want to focus on, just not right that second.”

“This wasn’t like this.” Peter looks down and starts to fiddle with a bit of grass, pulling up blades one by one. “This was like so much noise inside my head, like every little detail about every single thing was right there, grabbing my attention. I’d be trying to do one thing and all that would be clamoring at me nonstop.”

He closes his eyes, scrunching his whole face up. “People talk about wanting super sense a lot,” he says, “but it sucked so much at first.”

“People generally don’t think through those kinds of wishes very much,” Quentin says. Honestly, for the most part people don’t think at all.

“I’m pretty much okay now,” Peter says. “I figured out how to filter things most of the time; when there’s a bunch of stuff at once I can get so caught up in trying to ignore it that I ignore everything, and then that’s it’s own problem.”

“I noticed,” Quentin says, dryly. “Makes you pretty jumpy.”

Peter huffs, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” he says, brushing the ripped up grass off his pants. “I’m still working on getting the kinds of focus right?”

Quentin leans further back on his hands, crossing his legs. “You said something about focusing on me that one time,” he says, and Peter goes faintly pink. “That the sort of thing you’re talking about?”

“Something like that,” Peter says. “If I have one thing I can focus on, almost completely, then I can make it into… uh, white noise, I guess? Or it makes everything else into white noise. If that makes any sense at all.”

Not one bit, but whatever. He can press that later. “Sure,” Quentin says, waving his hand. “I’m following.”

It’s actually something to consider— if Peter manages to function better in difficult situations by focusing on one specific thing, what happens when that thing is taken away? Is ripped away from him, in fact. Would there be a moment of disorientation they could take advantage of? Maybe they could set Peter up to focus on what they want; he’s already using Quentin as a focal point, apparently.

He’ll have to watch Peter, Quentin thinks. This fumbling little explanation leaves a lot to be desired, but he doesn’t have much faith Peter actually could explain it better even if he tried.

“That helps,” Peter’s saying, “but it’s still really exhausting after a while. Sometimes I want to just… stop. Just not feel it at all, not have to try not to feel it.”

He glances at Quentin, and Quentin nods. Peter looks oddly shy, so he’d better pay close attention to what he’s showing.

“I’ve found a couple of places like this, but this is probably my favorite,” Peter tells him. “I can come here and actually relax. If I stop trying to block things out, or stop focusing on one thing, it doesn’t matter.” He tips his head back again, looking up at the tree.

“It's quiet here, pretty much all the time,” Peter says; the light through the leaves is diffuse, dappled on his face. “Even the noises that I get are like, soft things. Leaves and wind and things walking on grass. People talking, yeah, but that’s more distant and almost like background noise. It’s still shadowy in here when it’s super bright out, and there aren’t any super gross strong smells either. Just dirt and water and uh, green stuff.”

He darts a glance down at Quentin without moving his head. “Don’t laugh at me!” he says, and it’s right on the edge of plaintive. “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“I’m not,” Quentin says. He understands; it’s not something a city kid would be around that often, would probably even notice without senses like Peter’s. “I wouldn’t. I know what you mean, Peter.”

“Okay,” Peter says. Looks back away from Quentin and then closes his eyes. “It’s nice. And when I have to go back to the real world, it’s not quite as hard to handle.”

Quentin watches him. Watches as he slowly, slowly unwinds. Peter doesn’t move, aside from his head tipping slightly to the side, and Quentin—

He’d thought, earlier, that it was interesting how much Peter loosened up around people he felt comfortable with, places he felt safe. He’d thought it was a large degree of relaxation—and it was—but it was nothing compared to this.

Nothing compared to the way the tension drains from him with each passing second, from every single bit of his body, until he looks calmer than Quentin has ever seen.

Happier.

If this is how he looks when truly relaxed, the level of stress Peter must carry with him every day, everywhere he goes—from the physical tension to the mental, the anxiety, the constant background level of effort that other people don’t have to think about—must be ridiculously high.

He doesn’t want to say anything, do anything, that would break the stillness that seems to have spread over the entire glade. Poor kid. He might be doing a great job at being a pain in Quentin’s ass, but he isn’t cut out for this superhero shit.

Everything Quentin sees just convinced him further that taking EDITH from Peter really is doing him a favor. He’d never intended for that to be true, but— it’s not a terrible byproduct.

Peter sighs eventually, a barely there breath of a thing, opening his eyes halfway. He looks dazed, almost half asleep.

At least, until he notices that Quentin is watching him, and then he flushes. Looks down, the moment dissipating. “Anyway,” Peter says. “It’s— it’s a nice place for me,” like he’s admitting something embarrassing.

“I can tell,” Quentin says, offering him a small smile. “You deal with a lot every day, don’t you.” He shifts against his tree, trying to get more comfortable without Peter noticing and getting all fussy about it.

“I guess,” Peter says.

He picks up a leaf, twirling it through his fingers absently. “It’s getting really frustrating,” he adds. “Because it’s been almost two years, right? So I should have a better handle on this! I shouldn’t still be getting tripped up by such little things. And—” he makes a face, shoulders starting to hunch again.

“So I have this… this sense? Uh, I call it a spidey sense— I know, it’s kind of stupid. It sort of warns me about things? Like someone poking me, or shouting that something bad is about to happen.”

“Mmm, you mentioned that once,” Quentin says. “Sort of like a limited precog?” Honestly, he’d dismissed it— not fully, it wouldn’t do to completely dismiss anything about Peter. But it hadn’t seemed like it did much for Peter in Europe.

And it hadn’t picked up anything about Quentin, so how good could it really be?

“Oh, huh,” Peter says. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that? Maybe, but it’s not very exact. Sometimes it’s super obvious, but others it takes me a while to figure out what’s wrong. And lately, especially, it’s been— it’s gone kinda nuts? I don’t feel like I can trust it anymore.”

“Like, like right now?” he adds. “Right now it’s just going off like something really big and bad is happening, but come on!” He throws his hands up, exaggerated. “We’re just sitting here talking! Nothing, literally nothing bad is happening. It’s freaking out for no reason.”

Fuck.

Maybe he really shouldn’t have dismissed it, Quentin thinks, trying to stay as relaxed as he was a moment ago. Maybe he really fucking shouldn’t have, because some part of Peter knows that Quentin’s not good news. Knows that Quentin is something dangerous, is a threat.

And apparently knows it very, very insistently. Oh, fuck, this is the last thing he needs. Why now? Why is Peter’s sense losing its shit now and not at any time in Europe? What has he done differently to set it off?

God, what if it had been going off then too? Could that be why Peter had backed off at the last second in the bar, EDITH almost in Quentin’s hand? Has Peter been feeling this the entire time?

It’s a good thing he doesn’t seem to be listening to it, but that could stop at any second. At any time, Peter could decide that maybe his stupid ‘spider sense’ isn’t wrong, and that would be— that would be bad. That would be so bad.

Quentin has got to figure out how to make sure Peter keeps dismissing what it’s telling him.

“It’s so annoying,” Peter’s saying. “I wish it would stop, would just shut up already. It’s like this constant thing lately, sort of fading in and out but almost always there, but not a single thing has happened!”

Oh, that’s really, really not great. Almost always? In and out? How long will it take before Peter starts to realize it’s linked to Quentin?

No. No, he can fix this. He can nip this in the bud, before Peter has even a hint of suspicion. Peter’s already trying to ignore it, already annoyed by it. Quentin can use that.

“Maybe it’s just confused?” Quentin brings one knee up and rests his elbow on it, letting his arm dangle oh so casually. “After all,” he adds, “I’m hardly a bad thing, am I?”

Peter smiles, all that irritation gone in a second. “No!” he says. “Of course not! You’re like, the least bad thing that’s happened in a while.”

Quentin grins back at him. Yeah, keep thinking that, kid. “Well that’s a relief!” he says. “How finely tuned is this thing anyway? Could something have… I don’t know, damaged it? Hmm, screwed up its baseline, maybe? How do you even recalibrate it?”

“I have no clue,” Peter says. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t really test it or fix it or whatever. It’s practically useless now.”

Perfect; he wants Peter distrusting this sense. Wants him not thinking about it at all, avoiding the topic entirely— ah.

If he can get Peter thinking his damaged sense has something to do with the fights he’s been in, these bigger battles, that would be ideal. Peter’s already trying hard not to think about those; tie this sense to them as well, and he’ll just have even more reason to avoid both

“Could something have overloaded it?” Quentin asks. “Just completely swamped it, and it hasn’t recovered yet? If it got used to there being danger nonstop, on all sides, maybe it can’t stand down.”

“…maybe?” Peter says. “But I don’t know what would have caused that, or even when. It doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

What.

Really, Quentin thinks, really? Peter can’t think of anything that would fit? Why wouldn’t he think of that? “Nothing?” he says, quietly.

Peter frowns. Takes a moment, and when he opens his mouth, Quentin is almost sure he’s made the connection; but Peter hesitates. Shrugs. “Not anything that’s like, major or a big deal or anything,” he says.

Does Peter— has he really managed to convince himself that all the fighting he’s done is nothing? Or at least, been trying to, because that hesitation says a lot.

He should have expected this, with the way Peter’s consistently downplayed himself so far. He really should have, but somehow it still annoys him. No wonder Peter isn’t willing to admit how scared and screwed up he is, if he thinks he’s completely overreacting to ‘no big deal’.

“Well,” Quentin says, and he’s watching Peter carefully. He doesn’t know quite how this will hit. “You were at war, on a battlefield. More than once, even. That can really mess you up in all kinds of ways.” Remember, Peter, he thinks. Remember that you were hurt, that there’s a good reason to be scared. To run.

“I— that—” Peter stares at him. “I wasn’t in a war,” he says. Dammit. Looks like downgrading it in his head is exactly what Peter’s been doing, and that is exactly the opposite of what Quentin wants.

“No? What would you call it?” Quentin asks, raising an eyebrow. He pushes himself more upright, uncrossing his legs. “It sounded a lot like war to me.”

Peter shakes his head, fingers crushing the leaf he’s been playing with. “It was just a fight,” he says, strained. “That’s all!”

A fight. Just a fight, like it was nothing more than a little spat, was nothing at all. Has someone been telling him this, reinforcing it? Fury, maybe, or even Tony before that?

He knows Fury wants Peter to think he can handle things, but has he also been trying to convince him that what he’s been through so far was small enough Peter should have been able to handle it? Should be able to handle the aftereffects? That he shouldn’t be upset about it, that he’s overreacting?

That’s not good; Quentin doesn’t need Peter doubting he can handle things. He needs Peter to be certain he can’t, and more, that it’s perfectly normal. Acceptable. Not something horribly selfish at all.

“Peter,” he says, “it wasn’t just a fight.”

“It was! It was just one— it wasn’t a war!”

“It wasn’t— Peter,” Quentin says, and sighs. “It was a lot more than that. You’ve been dragged from fight to fight to fight the past couple of years, without anyone helping you after; from what I hear, you really could have used some after that thing upstate.”

He huffs, too sharp to be a real laugh. “And that’s just what I know of,” he adds. “I’m not stupid enough to assume that’s everything.”

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, his hands fisted on his thighs. Blinks, and then looks at Quentin intently, his brow furrowed. “How do you even know about that? About— about other fights?”

“I spent some time talking with Fury,” Quentin says. “He wasn’t big on details, but I got enough that I can fill them in on my own. I’m willing to bet he doesn’t even know every fight you’ve been in, though I’m sure he’d like me to think so.”

He’d been talking with Janice, more like. God, she’d been such a find; seething about having had Tony himself be an ass to her, more than once, but willing to stay where she was to pass things on. She’d had access to so much confidential information, and every time SI and SHIELD decided to bury another thing, shift the blame and throw money at it until it all went away—for them, at least—she’d gotten a little more resentful.

It’s true that they might not have the finer details—it drives him nuts how sparse the info about whatever it was that crashed SI’s plane into the beach is—but he has enough to know that Peter’s been involved time and time again.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking down, losing some of his ire. “You probably didn’t hear much good, I bet. But— it doesn’t matter if it was more than one fight, cause they were all different. All like, spread out and about other stuff. It’s still not war.”

“What do you think war is, then?” Quentin asks, actually curious.

“I don’t, uh. War is… more?” Peter stumbles along, and he’s being incredibly stubborn about this. “More than that, than any of those. Worse. Way worse. You don’t— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was really like. It wasn’t like that.”

“I think,” Quentin says dryly, “I have a pretty good idea of what war is.”

Peter looks absolutely horrified. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says. “God, I didn’t mean— I’m sorry, I didn’t think— I just, just meant that you were in a war. In a real, horrible, endless one and this…” He shudders. “These were just fights. It’s not the same, it’s not anywhere near as bad.”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says. Looks at Quentin and then drops his head into his hands, knees coming up as he curls in on himself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Quentin, I didn’t mean…”

This is really not what he was going for. Shit, he shouldn’t have said it like that; Peter’s too sensitive for him to be even a little sharp.

Quentin sighs, very softly, though he’s sure Peter still catches it. Pushes himself up onto his feet and walks over to Peter, who doesn’t even look up. “I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Quentin says. “It’s okay, Peter.”

Peter just shakes his head a little; Quentin thinks of sighing again but—somehow—manages to restrain himself. He sits down next to Peter, his back against the tree.

“War doesn’t have to go for a long time to be real,” he says, not looking at Peter. “It doesn’t have to drag on and on for it to still be awful, for it to still affect you,” and Jesus, he’s had to hear shit along those lines so many times. Had to sit there and listen to people be told over and over that what happened to them is worth being fucked up over.

Even if it isn’t. There’s a lot of reasons he never opened his mouth at those meetings, and his disgust at everyone else was the biggest. What a waste of time.

Well. Maybe not. It did give him the material to work Peter over.

“It doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic battle to qualify,” Quentin says. “It still counts. Pretending it doesn’t doesn’t get it out of your head.” Come on, he thinks, let it be bad, be a nightmare. Admit that there’s a good reason, a real reason, for you to be scared, and then you can back down without shame. Come on, Peter.

“It doesn’t feel like it should count,” Peter says, a bit muffled, head still in his hands. “It wasn’t— lots of people have dealt with so much worse. Something like this, it’s not— it’s not an excuse for, for…”

He doesn’t finish that thought, but Quentin doesn’t need him to. An excuse, hmm? He turns his head toward Peter, just a bit. “Why don’t you want to call it a war?”

Peter lifts his head, arms sliding down to cross across his chest. “Why does it matter to you what I call it?” he asks, and there’s a hint of sharpness in there. Maybe even anger. “Why do you even care if I admit— if I think it’s a war?”

Nice little slip there; isn’t that interesting. Peter does know it was more than a few little fights. He knows, he’s just trying as hard as he can to pretend otherwise. Trying to redirect, as usual, turning the question back on Quentin. Why does it matter, Peter wants to know, and there are so many answers Quentin could give.

It matters because you need to see yourself as badly damaged. Because you need to acknowledge that this is something huge and overwhelming and frightening. Because I need you to start accepting what I say as right, start accepting me as an authority. I need you to not question me.

So many reasons, and he can’t tell Peter any of them. Ugh.

He turns further toward Peter. “Because I think you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Quentin says, tightly, irritation rising up in him. “When you sit there and insist that it’s nothing more than a little fight, when you play it off like it’s nothing— you’re devaluing what you did, and that’s wrong.”

“Don’t act like what you went through, what you did, doesn’t count,” Quentin says, and Peter’s looking over at him, startled. “That it wasn’t brave as hell, and terrifying as hell too.”

Peter stares, his eyes very wide. “I— it’s not like I did more than anyone else there. Than, than anyone else would have.”

“It sounds like you did more than enough,” Quentin says. “And— it doesn’t matter, Peter. It still messes you up. War fucks everyone up. Maybe it didn’t go on long enough for it to really warp your thinking, your morals or empathy or capacity to even feel, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t damage you.”

Peter jerks, sitting up straighter. “I’m not damaged!”

For fuck’s sake.

Quentin has to dig deep for a bit more patience. “Sure you are. Hey, Peter— wait,” he says, watching as Peter shuts down all over again, hurt. “That’s not bad, kid. It’s not an insult. It’s just… you gotta admit that before you can get better.”

Or not, if Quentin gets his way; admitting it might lead to Peter actually getting over his fear and stepping up. But with Quentin around, guiding him along? Peter’s never going to take that admission as anything other than a personal failure.

As just another reason he can’t, and someone else should.

“I don’t know,” Peter mutters. “It doesn’t feel like it should count.”

Quentin watches him for a minute. Leans in, his shoulder bumping against Peter’s. “You’d agree that I’ve been in war, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And that I’m able to judge what is and isn’t war. Right?”

Peter can be smart, sometimes. He sees where this is going. Sighs. “Yeah,” he says.

“Will you—” Quentin pauses, waits until Peter is looking at him. “Can you trust me here, and believe that I mean it when I say what you went through was war?”

Peter blinks, his eyes dropping. He’s silent, and Quentin can feel the muscles of his arm moving as Peter fiddles with something out of sight. “I’ll think about it,” Peter says, which is not quite the response Quentin was hoping for. Still, it’s not another denial. Baby steps.

“I’ll— maybe,” Peter says. “I guess you would know, even if you weren’t there.”

“You should listen to me,” Quentin agrees, leaning a little harder against Peter. “I do know!”

You should listen to me, and only me, he thinks. We’ll get you there, kid.

Peter huffs softly, pushing back against Quentin’s shoulder. “Maybe,” but he’s smiling faintly.

Quentin smiles back; he can accept a maybe, for now.

He’ll get a yes soon enough.

[silvormoon]

Fanfic Writer Interview

I was tagged by @heleentje !

How many works do you have on AO3? Currently, 101. That’s not counting the stuff that’s on FF.N. Counting those would put me over 300 stories. I should move them over someday...

What’s your total AO3 word count?       1,945,164

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? On AO3, it’s Boueibu, Happy Kiss, a few different flavors of YGO, Yuuri on Ice!, Jeweler Richard, Fairy Ranmaru, and RobiHachi. My FFN account also has fics for the Power Rangers, The Slayers, Pokemon, and some other odds and ends. I wrote a Warriors of Virtue fic once and that’s getting darned obscure.

What are your top five fics by kudos? 5. Plot Contrivances (142) 4. Perfections (153) 3. Clause 214 (165) 2. Sales Report (179) 1. In Capable Hands (332)

And just for fun: My most-reviewed fic on FFN is “The Dragon’s Ring” with 342 comments, and my most favorited is “White Chicken” with 277 favs.

Do you respond to commets, why or why not? I try to, but like Earth, I am socially awkward, and I can’t always think of anything to say. I treasure every comment, though!

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? “Carry Me”, which was a Digimon fic about a character dying of cancer. I’m not sure, in retrospect, why I thought that was a good idea.

Do you write crossovers?  If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve ever written? Occasionally. There’s an extremely silly one I did on FFN called “PokeMoon” that is, of course, a Sailor Moon/Pokemon crossover.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? Now and again. FFN used to be really bad in terms of getting flamed if you wrote a ship someone didn’t like. I remember someone threatened me becasue I wrote Jou/Mimi when they shiped Koushiro/Mimi (but that guy was kind of notorious around the fandom and I don’t think anyone took him seriously). There’s a comment on “Sales Report” at FFN, telling me that they don’t see the point of the story and it’s one of the worst things I’ve ever written. As you can see above, it’s also one of my most popular fics. There’s just no pleasing some people. That one sticks in my memory, though, because I had planned to post a much larger fic later that week, but I was so disheartened by that comment that I didn’t bother, and the story is still sitting in my hard drive, unposted.

Do you write smut?  If so, what kind? Nope. I’m ace myself, and I lack the fundamental understanding of what it means for something to be “sexy” or why anyone would enjoy having, or reading about, sex. I can never figure out what to say about it so I just prefer to leave things to the imagination.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? A couple of times, yeah. Someone stole “Gifts of the Elements” from me, which made me really mad because not only did they repost it, they offered a bunch of editorial comments about what had been going through their mind when they wrote my story. Also someone reposted the aforementioned Warriors of Virtue fic, which was just... why would you even do that? It’s not like you’re going to get internet popular posting Warriors of Virtue.

Have you ever had a fic translated? A few times, yeah. I remember one or two of my Digimon fics got translated into German, and I think a couple of other languages too.

What’s your all time favorite ship? How on earth do I even choose? Obviously, Kinshiro/Atsushi from Boueibu is a big part of my fandom experience. I still have a soft spot for Jack/Carly and Ushio/Mikage from 5Ds. Destinyshipping from GX is a big one. And I am perhaps a little obsessed with whatevertheheck the Beppu twins have going on with Gora, in a “staring at the traffic accident” sort of way.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? If the fanfic genie would grant me one instantly completed fanfic, it would be “City People,” which was the planned sequel to “The Dragon’s Ring.” I have this 200+ page document on my hard drive. It is unfinished. I wish it was done.

What are your writing strengths? Description, possibly. And worldbuilding! I love me some worldbuilding. Plot structure in general.

What are your writing weaknesses? I feel like sometimes I over-explain things out of a need to get my point across. I’m trying to learn to be more economical with my words. Also dialogue, especially emotional dialogue.

What are your thoughts on writing dialoge in other languages in a fic? I’m not one to say “Never do this”, but I think it’s probably best used sparingly since I feel like it drags a reader out of the story if they suddenly don’t understand what they’re reading.

What was the first fandom you wrote for? Power Rangers in Space. The story is still up on FFN if you want to go look. It’s called “Power Rangers: Operation Z” and started out as a way of me processing my grief at the end of PRiS and morphed (heh) into this whole... thing.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? There are so many I am proud of! But if I had to pick just one, “Dear Pen Pal” would be a strong contender, because I really did write that fic just for me, to please myself and express my feelings, and it didn’t really matter to me if anyone else liked it or not. Other options would be “Purple Flowers”, “The Silver Rose”, “DVD Case”, and “Tickets.”

[mantra4ia]

Desires: Lucifer season 5 on Netflix

Created: August 21, 2020. Last Modified: August 22, 2020.

Preface: Alright my Lucis, here’s the sitch: it’s been a minute. Life got a bit chaotic I wasn’t able to start season five quite on time when it premiered on August 21st because I haven’t finished the great 2020 Lucifer rewatch. I’m nearly done however and should be able to jump into it either later today or tomorrow, which is why beforehand I want to — as I’ve traditionally done for a few seasons — create a desires list and keep a tally throughout the season to see how many are met. I am going to try to pace myself, not binge, and watch a single episode a day so don’t spoil me. Likewise I will tag my spoilers. Here we go... #21DaysofLucifer

Season 3 and 4 Roundout - Desires Fulfilled / Questions Answered

✔We’ve seen other demons “like Maze” and a bit of what havoc they can reek. Well sort of. To be quite frank, although it was cool to see them possess the recently deceased, it wasn’t as impending doom as I was expecting. They didn’t seem nearly as disciplined or intimidating as Mazikeen, even Dromos, more bored and desperate.

✔ We’ve seen a little more or the heavenly host in Remiel. Remi was cool, if a bit intense. Her character, and her affinity to Amenadiel was a nice foil to see how far his character has come in evolution. But again like Uriel was for Lucifer, she kind of became a driving force character device to push Amenadiel’s growth. So I wonder if we’ll get to see more of her or not.

✔ (s3) The backstory of Lucifer’s arrival in LA, finding LUX, and making a deal with Amenadiel.

✔ (s3) Cain finally went to hell, YES! Not that I didn’t like Marcus Pierce/Tom Welling, there were some great interactions there, but I just think he was a wishy-washy antagonist based on how he was written and I can’t wait to trade up for Michael.

✔ Maze finally had some happiness and attachment to this silly mortal coil and it slipped away! Why Eve why? I love Maze’s bonding with humans, Linda, Trixie, Chloe. But I love that after a Millennia of serving, and then watching Amenadiel and Linda be happy in a family unit, that she might actually make her own and my hopes were dashed. 

Things we got that we didn’t even know we wanted. SO GOOD:

Season 4 ep 8: Amenadiel bonding with Caleb and confronting community violence, police brutality, and systemic racism. It was a rough episode to be sure, but absolutely needed,

Chloe talking Lucifer down and out of a self-hatred spiral and his transformation into full-fledged devil and back again.

Lucifer playing Creep on repeat while missing the detective (even after insisting in a therapy session that “he’s not a teenager playing Adele on repeat) and Mr. Said Out B**** trying to rob Lucifer and gun point and ultimately get rich. What a fun twist.

The Dan and Maze Los X’s fight. They are wicked good at laying down the  hurt on the criminal element and I was wondering when they’d pair up again after dispatching Warden Perry.

The devil in a bar fight! I mean, it’s only fair since the ladies had their brawl. I love how this fight sequence was filmed in bursts of slo-mo from various angles, involved everything from fists, to tasers, knives, bottles, and the infamous pool cue, and they picked the perfect song for pacing (Jake Bugg, Lightning Bolt, could listen to it all day on repeat.)

Time for all good demons to go home / Enough, you will bow down to your king. Go home! (aka appropriate use of Devilish intimidation face)

Amenadiel vs Remi 

A Rocky montage with Lucifer and Amenadiel / Amenadiel’s face the first time Lucifer drives the Corvette

Lucifer at the roller derby

Chloe the YA fangirl

Maze teaching Trixie about knives, with each handle decorated in a different toy.

Amenadiel and Chloe catching up: your father is so proud of you. Like and angel BOSS!

SEASON HIGHLIGHTS:

★ (s3) Amenadiel taking Charlotte home

★ Dan being comforted in his grief by Amenadiel

★ Amenadiel’s wrath and the brotherly duo tag team to lay the hurt on the drug dealer that got Charlie killed. It’s been a while since we’ve seen warrior angel ready to dispatch anyone in his way. And it was glorious!

★ (s3) Lucifer’s almost driving lesson with Trixie “Morningstar”

★ (s3) Maze torturing Lucifer by making him think he’s the Angel of San Bernadino

★ (s3) Amenadiel and Lina helping to dispose of Lucifer’s wings

★  Lucifer kicking Julian, Tiernan’s son, through a glass pane window

★ The goodbye kiss between Lucifer and Chloe

 DIDN’T LIKE:

☒ (s3) Cain playing guitar and singing. What is he, a crime lord, a top cop, or an act that the improv club wouldn’t take? 

☒ Eve. I liked Eve, but we mostly got to see one side of her around Lucifer, and a kind of floundering an confused side when she was with Maze. The side that I would have liked to see more of was the maternal side that came out when she briefly talked about Abel or was interrogated by Trixie. That made her more layered.

☒ Father Kinley. That dude is just meh.

☒ Dan’s broken heart and rebounding with Ella. Don’t get me wrong, its a good arc, but I don’t see it lasting

☒ (s3) Abel and Reese. Those were two side stories I could have done without, although they had great moments of humor. I quite enjoyed Reese’s character, and although I didn’t like Abel Lucifer’s stick-figure comic illustration of Cain fighting with him over a rock was quite enjoyable.

WHAT I TRULY DESIRE: SINFUL SEASON 5, my BURNING QUESTIONS, and SPECULATIONS

Obviously, don’t spoil anything for me, but if any of my desires end up coming true in any of the first eight episodes maybe drop me a hint in the comments...

A big time jump. We need to see the lasting impact of Lucifer’s absence. I know that time in hell works differently per that episode where Lucifer saved Chloe and almost got stuck in a loop, but we still need enough time to elapse that the impact is felt on the mortal side. Or, we need to see the passage of time through a series of events without Lucifer, like a montage of character development. At least a year or so, if for no other reason then Trixie is growing up and I actually want to see her take driving lessons with Lucifer.

Last season Maze gave baby Charlie a gift, something she’d wished she’d had growing up, and previously had alluded to the language of demons, her many siblings, and teased her mother, the mother of all demons. Will we finally get to meet Maze’s mom Lilith (or however they address her)? And, in spite of Mazikeen’s found family, she still has restlessness and abandonment issues. Will her mom finally finally bring her peace, or will clashing with her resolidify Maze’s purpose on earth?

A Decker/Mazikeen team-up or girls night out 2.0 would always be appreciated. At this point its probably 4.0 if you count the bar fight and the bachelorette party.

Will we see tougher, scarier demons, or are they just warmup to the really scary depths of hell?

Speaking of hell, more hell. Tons of hell. I want to know the minutia of all the mechanics. If Lucifer’s gotta be down there in self-imposed exile, he may as well show us around. Pour us a drink.

Will Lucifer see Cain in Hell? Not that I’m dying to see more of “sad Cain” but it would be interesting to see a more dark or desperate or cunning side to him at least now that he’s actually neck deep in torment. Or, alternatively, I’m hedging my bets that he could be a good candidate to light the fire under Lucifer’s *** to get of hell back to the earthly realm. Even in hell, I’m betting Cain would have a soft spot for Chloe, and if news reached Lucifer that Michael were trying to abscond with his life and with Chloe, it would give Cain and Lucifer one last bit of “A-Hole brothers” common ground to bond over. Like “Brothers, am I right? Go kick, get Chloe back, I’ll still have enough guilt to torture me with in a few thousand years when you get back,”   

Will Lucifer fall into peril in hell of once again potentially getting distracted and stuck in a hell loop? Will his servants be satisfied with his return? Will Amenadiel bust him out.

Mr. Said Out Bitch needs a role reprise. He’s been in every season opener 2-4, we’ve gotten to know his undergarments very well.  Its high time we get to know his name and story. He’s put in the work!  

Amenadiel should be running LUX in Lucifer's absence. We got a tease of that in previous seasons (remember when he asked what would Lucifer do?) its time for that to come to fruition. Plus, any excuse to put DB Woodside in a suit, just because he wears them so well. It would also be interesting if, after that tragedy he’s experienced, Amenadiel will start taking after Luci. Maybe not the punishing, not yet, but wanting to seek out evil and corruption. It has been teased since s1 “fall as I did.” Perhaps he’ll start developing a taste for his bother’s line of work whereas he found it repugnant in the early days

Dan and Maze or Dan and Ella pair up. Both Dan and Maze are due for some happiness.

An Azrael reboot, when need more of her. She’s the angel of Death for pity’s sake. I don’t know if the original actress is still available or if they would have to recast, or if the character concept by Netflix would even be the same, but I need Azrael to be capable of sweet and unassuming and on a coin flip downright menacing.

More of Lucifer as a godparent, bless! And maybe a cool montage of “cousin” Trixie and Lucifer co-babysitting Charlie please.

Whilst on the subject of Lucifer and parenting, and without putting Trixie too much into harm’s way, I need to see what “I would do anything to protect that little urchin” looks like. Trixstar ride or die.

Father Frank, come back! I need a cameo or recurrent role pleeeeease.

Trixie in every episode. This is non-negotiable, much like chocolate cake. Beatrice is an all-star. In fact, I’ve decided that when Dad/God finally does show up, Trixie needs to be the one to get to know him / introduce him first. She’s been captain on the celestial cheer squad for four seasons, she’s earned this.

Who's going to see through Michael's facade first? I mean, I know that trailer shows Maze torturing it out of him, but as far as intuition goes, I've got a 50/50 split between Trixie and Linda, with an honorable mention to Dan.

If Michael is Lucifer's twin, does he have the same angelic compulsion skill set? Or something different? And will it work on Chloe or is she universally immune?

A “be like Mike” pop-culture reference. ******Spoilers: ******* all the trailers have revealed Michael already, so they owe us this for letting the steam out.

As far as pop-culture, how many movie and TV references will we get from Lucifer and ensemble this year? I expect A-game, from sci-fi to 80s action, on par with the previous likes of Parent Trap, Star Wars, Home Alone, Kim Possible, and Rocky.

Will Amenadiel’s necklace make a reappearance, even after he put it around Caleb’s neck in the morgue? Heavenly artifacts have a way of causing trouble in this show.

Will what finally learn what, if any, significance there is to Lucifer’s ring? Again, as all my fictional writings will attest, I really kind of want it to be a stolen little trinket from him Dad.

Plot twist: will we get to see Hell and the silver city all in one season, or is that too devilishly good to ask? It would be intriguing if Lucifer fell from Heaven for rebelling and now some threat like, for example, the mother of demons would pose a threat to the gates such that Lucifer was called upon to defend them. Not expecting anything Endgame level with a host of Angels popping up like sorcerers...but it is food for the imagination.

Plot twist: will Michael, duplicitous twin that he is, be revealed as the reason that Lucifer does not lie and can’t stand liars? Will be get a Michael back story? Is he perhaps the true rebellious son? see: my original fan conjecture here.

Additional links to previous recaps, roundouts and wishlists: 

Season 1: Best Moments // Season 2: Predictions, Desires, Roundout, Best Moments // Season 3: Speculations, Quick-shot summary 

[raeofgayshine]

Charlie and Julius

For the anon who asked about Charlie and Julius:

This definitely got a lot longer than I intended, but I had a lot to say about them. So most of it will be under the read more. I do want to just put a few trigger warnings though. Nothing too in-depth, but there are mentions of: suicidal thoughts, character death (but not Charlie and Julius), a car crash, transphobia, and some less than great parenting (I think that’s everything, but if you need me to tag for anything else lmk). 

And if you would like to know more about them, you can check out the tags for them, I’ve mentioned them a few times here and posts that remind me of them. Or feel free to send me questions because I love to talk about these two.They are best boys.

So Charlie Austin and Julius Dauer

- The two of them have been best friends since childhood. I kind of go back and forth on what age/how they met (As I've used them in several stories), but officially the pair met when they were 4, in pre-k. And they became best friends almost instantly. A friendship that was only solidified by the fact they lived down the street from each other, which meant frequent playdates, and as they got older, the two of them constantly visiting each other’s houses (Although they did tend to spend more time at Charlie's house as Julius's parents were always... busy)

- Ever since they were young the two always had a knack for getting into trouble, with Charlie usually spearheading the way and Julius all too happily following behind him. 

- I honestly think of them almost akin to Phineas and Ferb in some regard. They definitely didn't get up to quite the scale of things those two did, mostly because they were scientists first and builders second. But like they were regularly creating explosions by age 8 and almost always challenging the laws of physics 

- (When they're 15 they may or may not have created a slightly unstable device that uh, destroyed a large part of a (thankfully deserted) island. But at other times couldn't create an explosion that even like, knocked over a fence. It was... unpredictable. But they worked out the kinks eventually)

- In high school, their experiments earn them the title of "Mad Scientists", with many people citing that Charlie is often the "mad" part of the duo because of his general recklessness. But it's just Julius is far quieter about his ideas really.

But uh, we'll get to high school in a moment. Let's back up slightly, back to childhood. 

- They got up to a lot of antics beyond their science experiments. 

- I mentioned that Julius's parents weren't around much? It's a bit more complicated than that. I don't want to get into too many details because that will make this a very long post, but basically, Julius's parents did not get along hardly at all. They had vastly different parenting styles, but honestly they also just really did not like each other. His mom mentioned once they had only got married because she had gotten pregnant with Julius. 

- Julius's mom traveled a lot. For work (and other things). She was hardly ever at the house, hardly spent time with Julius, but she did spoil him constantly in lavish gifts and would take his side in arguments only to piss off his dad. She always put on this show about loving him but also didn't know shit about him. 

- Julius's dad on the other hand... Well, let's just say he never made any time to spoil his son. He hardly made time to pay attention at all, it seemed to Julius, except to tell him that he could "do better" and not so subtly encourage him to hang out with someone better than Charlie. His dad had a lot of high expectations for Julius, from a young age Julius was placed in piano, ballet, as well as classes for several other instruments (violin, cello, guitar. As he gets older Julius also learns how to play other instruments to varying degrees, but the only one he sticks with is the ukulele). 

- Charlie had a habit of trying to cause trouble during Julius's lessons to scare off his various teachers, because he always thought it was too much pressure to place on a kid to do so much, and succeeds with most of them besides Julius's piano teacher. This is a big part of why Mr. Dauer does not like Charlie. He thinks he's a bad influence on Julius.

- It's not to say that Mr. Dauer doesn't care about Julius, it's just... he really wants Julius to be successful and get into an Ivy League school and have a good future. And he doesn't ever really understand he's pushing too much. He thinks because Julius is very smart and all of that, he can handle the pressure. 

- But he does care. When Julius comes out as trans (at 16/17), and his mom reacts extremely badly, Mr. Dauer does take Julius's side. Even though he doesn't really believe Julius is trans and straight-up says he thinks it's a side effect of having so many guy friends, you know he is willing to let Julius continue going to the same school and ride out this "phase" because he had been doing a lot better since starting high school (At an all-boys school, although he was originally meant to go to the sister school) and as long as he kept his grades up, Mr. Dauer didn't really care. 

- (And he does come around eventually to accepting Julius, but that takes quite a few years and it happens slowly over a long time). 

- And you know, Mr. Dauer was the one who raised Julius after his parents split up. When Juls was 11, they got a divorce and his mom left without even caring to fight for him. Sent occasional gifts afterward but Julius hardly saw her except for a week over the summer and sometimes around the holidays, if his dad pushed for his mom to take him.

- On the other hand, Charlie had a very very close relationship with his parents. And in many regards his parents kind of adopted Julius a bit as a second kid. They were the polar opposite of Julius's family. Not perfect, but pretty fucking close

- Charlie and Julius were nearly inseparable growing up, as I mentioned. They were together all of the time, never saw one without the other close behind. 

- Well, never saw them apart until they were 11. That's when Julius's parents got announced to him they were getting a divorce, and with very little warning Julius's dad informed him that they were moving. 

- And Charlie was on vacation at the time. They never got a chance to say goodbye. 

- Well, not fully. See, Julius wasn't stupid. He had heard his parents talking about getting a divorce, the pair fighting late into the night for over a week. 

- Before Charlie left on vacation, Julius did a bit of goodbye. See, Charlie and Julius's favorite movie as kids was Winnie-The-Pooh, they were very attached to the characters. They even called each other Robin (Julius) and Bear (Charlie). So before Charlie left, Julius as sappy as he was, he just asked Charlie not to forget him. ("And Bear? Promise you won't forget me? Ever?" "Oh I won't Robin, I promise." "Not even when I'm 100?" "How old shall I be then?" "99. Silly old bear.")

- The next few years were hard for the two of them. You know, they were best friends, and without each other, both of them felt lost. Julius really struggled in school to keep up with the pressure put on him by his dad, without Charlie there to balance him out, it got really hard. And he never really made any new friends, he was too busy just trying to cling the fuck on, and not let other people notice just how much he was struggling. Because he didn't want to disappoint his dad. 

- Things were... harder for Charlie in the end. He had other friends, kids on his soccer team, he was always outgoing and stuff, but never any as close as Julius. He probably would have been okay though but

- When Charlie was  12, his parents were killed in a car accident on the way to his soccer game. And Charlie walked away with a few cuts and bruises and a broken arm.

- Charlie wouldn't admit it, but for years he blamed himself for the death of his parents. It... took a few months for the guilt to hit him. For a while, he tries to push away the pain, the grief, the guilt. To the outside world, he seems to cope with it all remarkably well. 

- He moves in with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. He throws himself into school and into sports (Baseball, he couldn't do soccer anymore, not after...) and into student government, keeps himself busy all the time

- It's not enough. Of course, it's not enough. I mean, it's enough certainly to convince everyone else that he's doing okay. Charlie has always been really good about hiding his emotions from everyone who wasn't Julius (who was the only person Charlie ever let himself be vulnerable around). So no one seems to notice that Charlie has become suicidal. Living starts to be really hard for Charlie, and there's a point where the only thing that keeps him alive is that he doesn't want his aunt and uncle to have to find his body. He knows it's a problem, that he should tell someone, but he's too scared of how they'll react. And he doesn't really feel like he's worth being saved anyways. ("And the ghost of survivors guilt can be so kind")��

- Besides, Charlie knows he just has to make it until he gets to high school. Knows that he'll be attending the private boarding school his dad and uncle both did come 9th grade. It's states away. If he could just make it there... well at least his family wouldn't have to find him. 

- Of course, that plan all goes straight out the window when Charlie arrives and finds that his roommate is none other than Julius. And god knows Charlie definitely couldn't hurt Julius like that either. 

- And Julius needed him. All it takes is one look for Charlie to see all the cracks in his best friend, the pressure from his dad combined with a newer fear of being outed to his parents, of being trans in general (because that was still new for Julius. He had only found the word less than a year ago. And the school was safe but... he was so scared. And he hadn't had anyone to talk to about it).

- So maybe it takes a little bit for Julius to really notice the cracks in Charlie as well. Charlie was, after all, the better of the pair of putting on a brave face. In fact, even as kids Julius had called Charlie his courage, and this hadn't changed. Julius breaks down the first time that they meet again, and Charlie becomes pretty much determined to... stay strong for Julius. ("This is not what I intended. I always swore to you I'd never fall apart. You always thought that I was stronger.")

- Charlie really is Julius's courage though. He makes it easier for Julius to breathe again. For the first time in years, with Charlie by his side, Julius feels like he can do anything. 

- And eventually, when his world no longer feels now like it's falling apart, and Julius feels like there isn't the weight of the world on his shoulders, he starts to notice that Charlie isn't as okay as he says he is. And Julius is hesitant to bring it up at first, because he didn't want to push Charlie away, wanted to give him space to open up on his own terms. 

- But when it becomes clear he isn't going to, and Julius is so so worried, eventually... he confronts Charlie. And it takes hours and hours of wearing Charlie down before he breaks and finally admits everything he had been keeping in. Admits all of the guilt and self-hatred he had been holding. 

- For the first time in their friendship, it becomes Julius's turn to be Charlie's courage. He's scared, he's so fucking scared hearing the things that come out of his best friend’s mouth, but he is determined not to let Charlie know that. Because Charlie needed him now to be strong.

- After getting Charlie to open up, the next hurdle for Julius becomes convincing Charlie that he needs to get help. Charlie is terrified to tell his Aunt and Uncle because he doesn’t want to upset them. He doesn’t know how they’ll react. 

- But with Julius as his courage, Charlie tells them. Right before Christmas break, Charlie admits that he needs help to his Aunt and Uncle. They’re shocked and upset and blame themselves for not seeing that Charlie was struggling, but they promise to get him help. 

- They discuss, over break, they discuss Charlie not going back to school. They think that he needs time off and he needs to be at home to recover. Charlie argues with them constantly to let him go back. That he could see a therapist near the school and he had Julius to watch out for him

- They don’t relent until almost two weeks after the second half of the year had started. There were conditions and a lot of concerns, but everyone could see that Julius was important for Charlie to be able to heal.

- And it’s not like things get better overnight. Both Charlie and Julius continue to struggle, to have their bad days. But unlike before, now they have each other. And together they could do just about anything.

- As I said before, they become known as the Mad Scientists. They reign terror in the science labs, cause explosions and set off the fire alarm so regularly that the whole school just kind of stops noticing it. Most students avoid the science wing outside of class, and for those who wind up in a science class with them well... it’s certainly never a boring time. 

- Much like as kids the two of them are hardly ever apart, so much so that their friends frequently call them Chalius just because it was quicker. And everyone pretty much knew that if you told Charlie something, Julius was bound to know it as well and vice versa. 

- A lot of people assume that the two of them are dating. Or if not dating then they assume that they are just oblivious idiots, who are both in love with each other and just won’t admit it. 

- It’s because of the way they act. The fact that they’re always attached at the hip, hold each other hands nearly all the time. Always sit one pressed against the other, arms and legs touching, and oftentimes you would find the two of them just curled together. Charlie would easily plop into Julius’s lap to stay close, and Julius loves to lay with his head in Charlie’s lap so that Charlie could play with his hair. They hugged each other tightly, Julius always resting his chin on Charlie’s head protectively. They called each other by their nicknames and acted so soft and sweet sometimes their friends teased they were going to get cavities just watching them. 

- And of course, Charlie and Julius love each other, but what they had wasn’t a romantic relationship. The closest they can come to finding something to call it is Queerplatonic Relationship, but for the most part, they insist that they are just Charlie and Julius. Nothing more and nothing less. They can’t explain it. But it’s theirs. And they’re so so happy with it.

- (They only ever tell their friends about them being something akin to QPPs. They don’t really mind other people making assumptions, as long as those they care about understand and accept them. The rest of the world didn’t matter).

- They have a handful of ways in which they calm each other down, provide comfort, or even just provide a distraction from each other’s thoughts. Charlie very frequently plays with Julius's hair (which he keeps about shoulder length, he likes to have it long and he loves Charlie playing with it) which helps them both relax. Julius will "play the piano" on Charlie's arm as a way to help keep Charlie grounded, depending on what Charlie needs sometimes Julius attempts to have Charlie guess which piece he is playing, other times he simply just "plays" whatever piece comes to mind and occasionally will sing along. Julius will also play the real piano for Charlie if it is available, although he plays the ukulele when he's trying to keep himself distracted. And Charlie will sing to Julius if they're alone. "Their song" is Somewhere Only We Know, but sometimes Charlie will sing other things, including Return To Pooh Corner as another favorite. 

- Once they're reunited, the two of them even start spending the summers together. Charlie's family on his aunt's side runs a successful hotel chain and the two of them often spend the summer at one of those hotels in a tourist town beach. 

- They're actually kind of local legends at the hotel. Julius in particular is known for his karaoke skills. Despite years of training Julius does tend to be very anxious about performing in general. Except when it comes to karaoke.  He's performed a wide array of songs, some with Charlie and some on his own. My personal favorite of the ones I've thought of is That Don't Impress Me Much, which also happens to be the first karaoke performance his other friends get to see.

- Charlie can’t drive. In fact, he doesn’t even really like to be in cars ever since his parents died, it makes him anxious because he’s worried about another car crash happening. But it helps to have someone there to hold his hand, provide a distraction. He gets nervous when his friends and family are in cars too, always makes them text him when they arrive so he knows that they’re safe. But he refuses to drive. Period. He never wants to be in the position where he’s in charge of someone else’s life like that. 

- Technically speaking, there is a no pet/animal policy in the dorms. But Charlie and Julius tend to ignore that. Not for their own pets, but... They rescue lab animals. From the nearby college, other high schools. They find about animals being used for experiments and they take them in. Usually only temporarily, until a permanent home can be found for them. They work with a local group of college students who have been trying to protest this type of research for years and a local rescue. Sometimes they get non-lab animals, usually snakes or rats, animals other people wouldn’t take.

- (Their friends only learn about this operation in Charlie and Julius’s Junior year, when they have to recruit them to find a missing snake).

- The entire school kind of loves Charlie and Julius, because they will cause chaos if asked. Like slip them a note and $5 and they’ll set off the fire alarm right when you’re supposed to be having a test. A little more, a please, a good story, maybe they’ll even shut the school down for the day. And they get away with it because nobody thinks they’re doing it on purpose. They set the alarms off so often on accident, that no one would even consider that they were doing it on purpose.

- Charlie starts to play soccer again, in his sophomore year. It’s really hard at first, he almost quits after the first practice because it reminds him of his parents and it hurts. But Julius convinces him to stick it out, because Charlie loved soccer and Juls knew he missed playing. It gets easier with every practice, and in the end, Charlie is happy to be back on a team again but isn’t ever quite the same as before.

- Julius is the resident worrywart of their larger friend group. Their friends tease it’s because Charlie is the exact opposite, reckless, the type of person who acts first and thinks later.

- Julius is trans, aro? he thinks? And ace 

- Charlie is pan

- They have matching tattoos, Winnie-The-Pooh themed, although I’m still figuring out what exactly they look like. 

- Charlie has tattoos for his parents, although again I don’t fully know what those look like yet

- Julius’s birthday is September 2nd, and his name in their friend group chat is PianoMan

- Charlie’s birthday is July 25th and his name in their friend group chat is Exploding Charlie 

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Emiel Regis X Reader | What Will Remain Of Us | Chapter 21-30

Originally posted on AO3. Keep an eye on the warnings, these apply from chapter 25 and up.

Word count: 1700+ Warnings: Death, angst, Frontotemporal Dementia

Chapter 21 - Orphanage

‘Missus Godefroy, please tell us about vampires again!’

Even though her shift was nearly over and the nightly caretaker was about to arrive, she smiled and sat down with the children, who quickly gathered around her.

‘You know that Mrs Wilson does not appreciate it when my stories give you nightmares.’

‘Please Mrs Godefroy! Little Elise is already in her room, hiding under her blankets because your beloved will pick you up soon!’

A hearty laugh escaped her lips as they curved upwards even further and she brushed her hand through the boy’s dark hair.

‘Perhaps another time. Perhaps Mr Regis himself could tell you one day about being a vampire.’

‘Mr Regis most certainly could.’ She was startled by a voice at the door, a silverfox vampire leaning against the frame, smiling slightly.

La Compassion made him think of the higher vampire Orianna, yet he wasn't sure if those memories were fond of not.

Mrs Wilson brushed past him and the children of the orphanage scurried off, but not before giving Regis’ lover a quick hug.

‘See you tomorrow Mrs Godefroy, thank you for being so nice to us!’

‘Not a problem, Simon. Be a good boy now, and maybe Mr Regis can come with me one day.’

‘Oh no, nothing of the sort.’ Mrs Wilson exclaimed, practically shooing her towards her husband.

‘Alright, Agnes. I will bring a Katakan instead. That could be safer after all.’

Chapter 22 - Flower Crowns

‘Mommy, look at this!!’

She looked at the little girl before crouching down next to her. Upon her blonde curls, a flower crown was placed, another clutched in her hands.

‘Daddy taught me how to do it! This one is for you.’

Her daughter reached up and placed the wreath of daisies upon her mother’s head.

(Y/n) moved to pick up the six-year-old and arose from her low position, smiling as she saw Regis in the doorway, a fond look on his face, a slight hue of pink on his cheeks. In his silver hair, also a flower crown.

‘You look lovely.’ Emiel said, approaching his wife, kissing her on the cheek and ruffling their daughter’s hair.

‘Little Molly is a quick learner. Soon she will steal all my herbs to make them into a braid.’

‘Would you mind?’ She asked him, smiling at her daughters enthusiastic expression.

‘Quite so.’

Chapter 23 - Sick

He held back her hair from her face as she sat hunched over, belching out whatever was left inside her stomach. The stench that came from the growing puddle underneath her was pungent and far from pleasant.

'I am sorry, Regis.' she muttered, bags under her eyes and small pieces of puke stuck to the corners of her lips. She tried to rub some of it away, only causing it to stick to the back of her hand. He gave her a small smile, rubbing her back reassuringly.

'That's alright. You're just sick. Just get it all out of there.'

He didn't need to tell her twice. She returned to vomiting all over the grass like there was no tomorrow.

Chapter 24 - Energetic

Little Molly was quicker than her mother, and she knew it.

So when Regis returned home one day, a bottle of wine and a fresh bread in hand, he was far from surprised to find his love out of breath, a jumpy, jolly child still running around.

'Won't that child ever grow tired?' she wondered, causing the Higher Vampire to chuckle. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile as he observed the blonde curls dancing around the room.

'Only to think about the idea that one time we were as young and energetic as her.' 'I can't remember that at all.'

'Me neither, dear. But tonight, she will be exhausted. I have brought some wine, so we have all the evening to ourselves.'

His lips brushed against the nape of her neck, making her blush. In front of them, a blonde head appeared, a small finger reaching out to them.

'Tag, you're it.'

Chapter 25 - Overcooked

Regis returned home from the market to a pungent, awful scent.

With a hand in front of his mouth and nose, he entered the cozy homestead quickly.

He found the love of his life in the kitchen behind a boiling pot of whatever was in there. The food had long overcooked and hot water was flowing onto the floor freely, staining the wood a few shades darker.

The thing that confused him even more was that she didn't seem to mind at all. Instead, she was zoned out, staring out of the window.

'Darling?'

He reached out, turning off the heat. The boiling in the pot died down, revealing burned potatoes.

'Darling?' he touched her arm, startling her.

'Oh, Regis, you scared me.'

'Are you alright?'

She nodded, turning to the cooking again. 'Yes, yes I am fine.'

'Are you sure? You were completely zoned out there for a moment. The potatoes are over-boiled.'

'Oh... I am sorry, dear. I must've forgotten that those were on the stove.'

Regis rubbed his chin, observing her, narrowing his eyes. He hummed, letting it slip for now.

'If you say so.'

'Don't worry about it.'

Chapter 26 - Birthday

On her tippy-toes, little Molly moved closer to the bedroom, Regis in tow with a tray in his hands.

It was early, the scent of omelettes and freshly brewed tea filling the room. Carefully, Molly pushed open the door, the hinges slightly creaking.

'...Happy birthday to you!'

Regis and Molly sang loudly enough to startle awake the woman that was still laying underneath the covers.

'Happy birthday mommy!' the blonde girl ran up to her mother, jumped onto the bed and hugged her.

'It's... It's my birthday today? I thought my birthday was next week!'

Molly laughed as her mother startled tickling her.

'You and daddy set up breakfast in bed for me? How sweet of you!'

Regis smiled fondly at the scene, placing the tray carefully on the duvet.

'Of course.' he spoke, leaning in to press a chaste kiss onto her lips, earning an 'Ewww!' from little Molly.

The couple laughed, Regis' hand momentarily curling around the small of the birthday woman's waist in a protective manner.

'We have way more surprises up our sleeves. All that we can tell you is that you need to put on a cute dress with some swimming wear underneath.'

She sighed happily as she took a sip of her tea. 'That sounds too lovely, my darlings!'

Chapter 27 - Molly

Something in Regis stirred in concern at the sight of Molly's rather disheveled curls. What caused him more unease however was the fact that she was still in her pajamas.

His love was ready to head for the market, a warm cloak already wrapped around her form to shield her from the icy fingers of winter's merciless grip. 'Come on, Molly, we are going out.'

'But mom, I am not ready yet!'

'Don't be silly, come on, we don't want to miss out on the warm cinnamon rolls Pierre has been baking, do we?'

The pit of Regis' stomach churned in an unpleasant way.

'Darling.' he whispered. 'she is still in her pajamas.'

Her eyes widened in genuine surprise as she observed Molly a bit better - the little girl was on the verge of crying. 'Oh...' she muttered, 'but we can fix that quickly, can't we?'

Regis just looked on as she ushered their daughter towards her room to dress her, a heavy stone on his chest as he tried to suppress tears.

Chapter 28 - The Beginning Of The End

'Isn't there anything you can do, then?'

'No.' a certain raven-haired sorceress spoke with sadness in her voice. Violet eyes flickered to her form a few meters away, busy with skimming through a book, before lowering to the floor.

'I am so sorry, Regis. But there are things even black magic can not undo.'

'What do you suggest I should do, then?'

Yennefer sighed deeply, lips slighty parted.

'I am afraid you should begin the process of letting her go.'

Regis looked up at the sound of his lover approaching them.

'Did you find the book you was looking for?' she asked with a smile.

'I did.' Regis whispered, tucking said book into his bag. 'Let's go home.' he muttered, taking her hand into his.

He brought it up to his lips and kissed it lightly, making sure she couldn't see the sadness in his eyes.

Chapter 29 - Orphanage, part II

The remark had pierced her like a sword.

'You cannot come back anymore.'

This couldn't be. The orphanage was her everything.

'Why?' she said with dismay laced through her voice. Her legs felt heavy and she nearly fell over.

'The children are not safe around you anymore.'

'What makes you even think- That's not true! I am doing fine around here!'

Tears poured down like rain in an autumn storm.

'Come.' Regis whispered to his wife, kissing her temple. 'We should go home.'

Chapter 30 - Tomorrow Never Comes

Her husband sat, shivering with grief that had already seeped in his veins.

'I am not dead yet.' she muttered, smiling a bit. Every word took great force.

Molly was holding onto her like there was no tomorrow. But that was true. There was indeed no tomorrow.

'Take care of Molly for me, yeah?' she whispered to her husband.

Regis was silent, just pressing his lips to hers. Salt mixed into the kiss, alongside raw emotion.

'I love you.' he said, 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.' He shut his eyes and just focused on the sound of her voice saying those words.

Their eyes briefly met as soon as he opened them again, her hands waved into Molly's curls.

He wasn't ready.

'I love you.' she whispered. 'My Regis... My lovely Regis.'

He gritted his teeth as her eyes fell shut, fighting the urge to shake her awake. No, she couldn't slip away. Not now, not yet.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes again, reaching out to touch his face.

'Oh, my love. What I wouldn't give for another decade with you and our little girl. Don't forget about me.'

Regis' bottom lip trembled as he cupped her face into his hands, her eyes closing again.

'I won't. I love you.' he said once more.

...

...

...

With one final breath, she slipped into a peaceful slumber.

He was afraid that she had already forgotten his name.

But then he recalled his promise he made many years ago.

'I will never be able to forget you, my dearest. I will hear your name in the wind and see your face in the stars until the end of time, and beyond that.'

[lokilickedme]

Part 2 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - High Rise

By request

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own in 2016 (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book

Character:  Loki (narrator), Robert Laing, Richard Wilder

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, Loki Has Issues, Spoilers, Loki Does What He Wants, stick to the damn book Loki, lewd passages quoted from the book, references to bestiality and incest (thanks a lot for that, Ballard. You’re a dick)

Series:  Part 2 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Published: 2016-02-21   Words: 1220 (original version)

Part One: Loki Reads Chapter 9 of The Night Manager

  High Rise, Read by Loki Laufeyson 

by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki narrates another audiobook.  Apologies to JG Ballard, though not very sincere ones.  In fact I take it back, I’m mad that I ever had to read this.

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes 

  Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog... 

Well shit, lets just not waste any time at all getting to the good stuff, shall we?  When a book has the unmitigated balls to start off with a barbequed canine for the first course, you know you're in for an entertaining evening chock full of questionable culinary choices written in dirty grey prose, which we all know is just a gateway to every sort of perversion familiar to man and a handful or two heretofore known only to the Aesir - and I’ll tell you right now they get up to some kinky shit that’d make you want to tie your ballsack to a goat.  That’s not a metaphor, they’re known for literally tying their ballsacks to goats.  Okay, one of them is known for it.  Okay, I’m known for it.  It was me.  So once one has committed to snacking on the family pets, what comes after the appetizer, sex with a budgie?  What sort of sauce is the fellow using?  Did he sautee the dog or is that fucker deep fried?  Or am I missing a particularly rude innuendo here and he's actually giving the beast a blow job?  If that's the case then this might end up being a worthwhile read after all, and I can’t think of a much more romantic place than the balcony if you’re actually going to commit to pleasuring the wife’s poodle.

 ...Dr. Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.  Now that everything had returned to normal - 

Hold up.  NOW everything's returned to normal?  You're eating a fucking dog, sir, either that or you're fellating it.  In what twisted realm is either of those scenarios considered normal?  We’re not counting Asgard, by the way.  And I'd rather like to know which part of the beast we're talking about here, I mean if it's the drumstick or the tenderloin then I hope you basted it with some herbs and a bit of olive oil before you slapped it on the hibachi.  If you're committing cunnilingus, then I'm presuming you know which part you're dealing with and I'll leave you to it, though the olive oil could serve dual purpose here.  But it does beg the question - is the beast male or female?  Not making a judgement, just getting the visual.

While we're pondering that, I'm going to do us all a colossal favor and skip ahead a bit.  This book really is difficult, and by difficult I mean I've had torture sessions on asteroids that were less annoying.  The story itself is good, heaven knows I enjoy chaos and mayhem and bestiality as much as the next power mad despot, but word for word this tale reads a bit like Lewis Carroll and Roald Dahl having the slowest orgasm in history during a mutual masturbation session while smoking Edgar Allen Poe’s gym shorts.  I actually think I might be having the slowest orgasm in history.

 'Come whenever you want to.'  Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying her in case she lost her balance.  In the past he had always felt physically distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother, but for reasons not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.  He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast.  As if aware of this, she leaned passively against him. 

And there it is my friends.  All good stories need an element of the forbidden, and it looks like sister-diddling wins the perversion jackpot for this evening.  This Laing fellow has the whoo hoos for big sis.  And you people give me shit over my "alleged" deviant relationship with my brother?  Last I recall adopted siblings were free to black hole it all they want, yet here we have a pair working out a tag-up without the benefit of notarized adoption papers.  Since we seem to be condoning this, lets all remember our hypocrisy the next time I'm catching grief for banging Thor, shall we?  And while we're at it, are we all just ignoring the Oedipus train wreck this man just owned up to driving straight into the wall?  'Big sis you look like mummy, here let me drug you and keep you as a sex slave while this whole place goes to hell around us.'  I may or may not be skipping ahead but I'll save you a little time and drudgery - it goes there, people.

 He pulled the drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into the bath. 

Ah, Wilder.  I do love a good silly mustache-twirling villain with self aggrandizing dreams of conquering worlds several floors above his own social status.  Because in the end we all want more than what we’ve got, don’t we?  Thrones, love, respect, use of the penthouse, a herd of stoned females.  At least he didn't piss on the mattress.  Nobody likes a bedwetter, even in hell.

 His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia, glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom.  He was about to break the glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the darkness. 

Yes my good man, welcome to the fellowship of the knob, our universal handshake is to sit on the sofa with one hand down the front of our pants.  Our penises calm us all.

 He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow. 

Huh.  Just when I rather think I like this Wilder fellow and his obvious off kilter mental status, he shows us his wiener.  Which was more than enough in itself, thanks so very much for that.  Elegant move there, dipshit - whip it out and slap a bow on it, for times when you really want to class things up.  I for one can't think of anything more entertaining or intellectually fulfilling on a Friday night than tying a pretty ribbon on my schlong and running about with it hanging out of my trousers while I harass and terrorize feral women in derelict apartment buildings.  Sometimes I like to really mix things up by borrowing a pair of mother's clip-on earrings and dangling them from my testicles.  It makes me feel so fucking manly.  You know, for those times when you really want to bang your sister who looks like your mom and you know you stand a better chance of scoring if you really put in some effort with the self decor.  Or you could go all out impressing the masses by tying your ballsack to a goat, but granted, it’s not for everyone.

 This ultimate role had helped him on one occasion, when a marauding band of women led by Mrs Wilder had entered the apartment.  Seeing Laing being abused, and assuming him to be Eleanor's and Alice's prisoner, they had left.  On the other hand, perhaps they understood all too well what was really taking place. 

Yes, what was really taking place was this fellow Laing got himself a couple of kinky babes who were willing to tie him to a chair and beat him with the hind leg of an Alsatian.  I mean, who doesn't get off on that?  I tip my cap to you, Sir.  Never go fifty shades with one woman when you can go full-on Marquis de Sade with two.  And seeing as this merry band of female visigoths was led by that Wilder chap's wife, one can only assume he pilfered her pretty hair bows one time too many and the poor woman felt compelled to start tucking the ginsu’s into her gingham apron and go on raiding parties with her Wednesday night book club group.  Or perhaps it was the 'heavy genitalia' on display out of the front of his pants that drove her over the edge.  I understand leaving one's trousers open while traversing rapidly declining self-contained bastions of reverse civilization is valid grounds for divorce in some states.

 First she would try to kill him, but failing that give him food and her body, breast-feed him back to a state of childishness and even, perhaps feel affection for him.  Then, the moment he was asleep, cut his throat.  The synopsis of the ideal marriage. 

What - all marriages aren't like that? 

I’m going to stop right here so we can all go take a break, order in some Alsation, chase our sisters and next door neighbors around the room with gardening implements and figure out where we hid our morphine stash - which sounds disconcertingly like a typical Saturday evening in Valhalla to me, quite honestly - and summarize the rest of the book, which goes a little something like this:  Madness, mayhem, perversion, murder, violence, death, and why the fuck don’t these people just walk out of the damn building?  Yes I know, it’s an allegory on class warfare and societal prejudices and the shitty tendency humanity has to turn on each other and finally itself when faced with a breakdown in the decency and polite behavior that tentatively holds people at arm’s length until the shit hits the fan and everyone starts coming at each other with golf clubs.  Humans have a disturbing desire to go all Lord of The Flies the moment order breaks down, and this book casts a bloodshot eye on the fucked up results.  I’m telling you though, it’s nothing a good tug’o war match with a goat couldn’t have fixed.

All in all I would say this book is a challenging read, but worth it in the end if for nothing other than the visual of that guy with the bow on his schnitzel.  Best read while mainlining household cleaners directly into your lungs blindfolded and waterboarding yourself while listening to Raul Julia sing the Ave Maria on 45 rpms.  Trust me, you'll understand once you get to the part where the old ladies in cocktail gowns are brawling over use of the elevator. 

 End Notes 

Passages in italics are the property of J.G. Ballard from the novel HIGH RISE, copyright 1975.  I don’t own them, I didn’t write them, and dear god please don’t ask me about the dog.

[icarianrise]

—    BASICS.

▸     IS  YOUR  MUSE  TALL  /  SHORT  /  AVERAGE    ?

Average.  5′7″ babey !

▸      ARE  THEY  OKAY  WITH  THEIR  HEIGHT    ?

Yes  ---  it’s a good height for wearing kitten heels for a little boost or full heels for extra help commanding attention.

▸      WHAT’S    THEIR    HAIR    LIKE ?

Dark brown,  naturally a little wavy.  She doesn’t like when it grows past her shoulders and always does it so that it’s in soft waves and pinned off her face.  Her preferred style is reminiscent of Rita Hayworth,  but shorter.    [ x ]  [ x ] for reference.

▸     DO    THEY    SPEND    A    LOT    OF    TIME    ON    THEIR    HAIR     /    GROOMING ?

Yes  ---  she has an entire morning routine for getting ready and it’s part of the reason why she likes waking up early.  She’ll wash up,  do her makeup  ( as much as is possible given limited resources but she makes do )  and then make sure her hair looks nice and is pinned in place.  She always lays her clothes out the night before and pins/ties her hair up so it’ll be wavy the next day.  The last thing she does in the morning is apply her lipstick.  It’s the final step that makes her feel ready to face the day.

▸      DOES  YOUR  MUSE  CARE  ABOUT  THEIR  APPEARANCE  /  WHAT  OTHERS  THINK ?

Yes  ---  it’s not so much an issue of vanity,  though,  as much as it is personal pride.  She likes the routine of it,  taking time for herself in the morning to put herself together.  It also gives her a feeling of control.  She has control over the way she looks,  presents herself,  is seen by others.  Considering the lack of control she’s had in her life as of late it’s honestly a comfort to sit down with an old-world indulgence and if people think it’s silly or vain for her to worry about appearances when survival is on the line,  she honestly doesn’t give a damn.

—    PREFERENCES.

▸     INDOORS  OR  OUTDOORS    ?

Indoors  ---  but not opposed to outdoors.  She likes being outside just fine and will enjoy some fresh air and sunshine when she can but most days her only ventures outside are to travel,  which is dangerous.

▸     RAIN  OR  SUNSHINE    ?

Rain  ---  she loves sitting inside and listening to the rain on a stormy day.

▸     FOREST  OR  BEACH    ?

Beach  ---  granted,  she’s not out lounging in her two piece  ( it’s the Commonwealth’s loss )  these days and the smells of many rotting things sort of ruin the experience.  But if she can find a clear spot to sit with a good book she’s happy.

▸     PRECIOUS  METALS  OR  GEMS    ?

Precious metals  ---  diamonds may be a girl’s best friend but they look best when inlaid on gold.  That being said she has very little by way of jewelry besides two gold rings tucked into a lock box.

▸     FLOWERS  OR  PERFUMES    ?

Flowers  ---  she preferred light,  floral perfumes anyway.  Besides,  heavy perfumes are more likely to attracted unwanted attention at the worst possible times.

▸     PERSONALITY  OR  APPEARANCE    ?

Personality  ---  looks are just frills around the important things.

▸     BEING  ALONE  OR  BEING  IN  A  CROWD    ?  

Alone  ---  although it wasn’t until coming out of the vault that she ever felt lonely.  She prefers solitude and privacy just fine,  crowds make her anxious.

▸     ORDER  OR  ANARCHY    ?

Order  ---  that is,  in fact,  her driving focus.

▸     PAINFUL  TRUTHS  OR  WHITE  LIES    ?

White lies  ---  for others.  She would rather be told a harsh truth than a white lie,  rather tell a white lie than a harsh truth.  She almost always avoids full-blown dishonesty or deception but especially in personal matters she will always answer with something that is,  as best,  half true.

▸     SCIENCE  OR  MAGIC    ?

Science  ---  she doesn’t have the luxury of dealing in fantasy these days.

▸      PEACE  OR  CONFLICT    ?

Peace  ---  whenever possible.  In the Commonwealth Effie finds that it takes a bit more effort but always with that much more reward.

▸     NIGHT  OR  DAY    ?  

Night  ---  it’s when she the most personal time.

▸     DUSK  OR  DAWN    ?  

Dawn  ---  it’s quiet,  full of promise.  She wakes up as early as possible just to sit and relax.

▸     WARMTH    OR    COLD ?    

Warmth  ---  she doesn’t like being cold.

▸     MANY  ACQUAINTANCES  OR  A  FEW  CLOSE  FRIENDS    ?

Both  ---  she has a few close friends,  but a network of acquaintances is useful in its own regard.

▸     READING    OR    PLAYING    A    GAME ?

Reading  ---  its what she does with most of her free time,  assuming she has a book on hand.

—    QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸      WHAT    ARE    SOME    OF    YOUR    MUSE’S    BAD    HABITS ?

Smoking,  especially when stressed.  Overworking,  getting a bit controlling with others even if her intentions are good.  Lying is a big one,  or at the very least deflecting questions to the point where you realize that you’ve learned nothing after a full conversation with her.

▸      HAS  YOUR  MUSE  LOST  ANYONE  CLOSE  TO  THEM    ?        HOW  HAS  IT  AFFECTED   THEM    ?

Nate,  obviously.  Knowing he died protecting Shaun was the only thing that got her out of Vault 111 in the first place,  honestly.  It gave her a purpose which just barely kept her from being fully consumed by her grief.  Shaun,  to a more complicated extent,  was also lost to her.  She’ll never see Father or the synth child as her son.  Besides that,  I mean,  literally anyone she ever knew before the war.  She tries not to think about it but she knows her parents couldn’t have survived the bombs and she’s seen the remains of her neighbors.  She tries to put those feelings in a little box and not think about them,  because it would only hold her back and distract from the very real present.  She treats her life before the war as someone else’s life,  whether or not that’s a healthy way to cope  ( it’s not ).

▸      WHAT  ARE  SOME  FOND  MEMORIES  YOUR  MUSE  HAS    ?

From before the war she has plenty of big events  ---  her wedding,  graduating from law school,  Shaun’s birth.  Since leaving the vault the types of memories change a little.  Piper’s dramatic lie to get her into Diamond City will always stick with her,  the grin and wink Piper gave as she tormented poor Danny Sullivan.  The first time she helped a group of settlers and they agreed to join the Minutemen  ( the fondness is part pride in her accomplishments,  part seeing the smile on Preston’s face that could rival the sun ).  

▸     IS  IT  EASY  FOR  YOUR  MUSE  TO  KILL    ?

No  ---  even if it’s a firefight against raiders,  it stays with her for a bit afterward.  She won’t show it though.

▸      WHAT’S  IT  LIKE  WHEN  YOUR  MUSE  BREAKS  DOWN    ?

Effie Calvet does not break down.  Effie Calvet has not,  in fact,  ever broken down in her entire life.  She is an emotional rock,  a fixed point for those around her.     (  It’s happened twice.  Once,  when she first left her cryopod and saw Nate’s body.  Then,  again,  when she finally returned from her first visit to the Institute.  Her entire body shakes,  she cries but it’s silent save for sudden gasps and sniffling.  She curls in on herself and can’t move and all she feels is a gaping hollow in her gut.  It’s paralyzing.  She can’t sleep,  can’t eat,  can hardly breathe.  It’s already unbearable but if anyone ever saw her like that it would make it a hundred times worse.  The only thing that ever really pulls her out of it is some purpose to keep her moving forward.  The first time it was finding Shaun,  the second time it was rebuilding the entire Commonwealth.  )

▸      IS  YOUR  MUSE  CAPABLE  OF  TRUSTING  SOMEONE  WITH  THEIR  LIFE    ?

Yes  ---  to a degree.  As long as her and her companion have a common goal she trusts that they will help keep her alive in order to achieve it.  She trusts that she can make herself worth more alive to someone than dead,  basically.  Other than that she never expects anyone to put her well-being above their own for purely selfless reasons. 

▸      WHAT’S  YOUR  MUSE  LIKE  WHEN  THEY’RE  IN  LOVE    ?

Effie doesn’t fall in love easily so when she does,  she’s committed.  She’s extremely attentive to her partner and delights in doing little things to brighten their day or make their lives easier.  You never need to tell her your favorites for anything,  she already knows and she will provide in plenty  ---  like a favorite snack always on hand when they visit,  something small but thoughtful.  She really just wants to do things with her partner.  Go places,  experience things,  and while the Commonwealth doesn’t exactly provide ideal date spots in abundance she still likes going out and finding something for them to share.  She is much more open with her partner and will confide in them if she’s upset or needs to vent,  which is huge deal for Effie and not something she takes lightly.  Not too much PDA but in private there’s plenty of hand holding,  being physical and touchy when in her partner’s space even if it’s just putting her legs over them while they’re sitting together.  Naturally there will be red lipstick kisses peppered everywhere to the point where her partner probably has some that they didn’t even realize until someone else brings it up.

TAGGED  :   by the wonderful @nvalcntine​ !!

TAGGING  : @nezhnosts​  @vndicate​  @maskedsin​  @riverdivined​  anyone who wants to do this !!

[zmediaoutlet]

hello there. could you make a proper post about ragnarok? your tags are teasing me & i wanna know what you liked about it. personally i was vibrating with excitement throughout, it was so good. after all the dark, boring marvel stuff, finally some quality fun. everything a blockbuster should be, done right. (with enough brothering to warm my samndean heart)

hi there, anon, I’d be delighted. Though coherent film reviews aren’t really my business, this movie was just–supremely delicious enough to make it happen.

THOR: RAGNAROK spoilers below.

Vibrating with excitement is a great way to describe the experience of seeing this movie, and for that I think we need to start with a little background. Anyone who reads my tags on a regular basis knows that, truly, #taika waititi is my hero. Why, though? Well, to start with, he is a genius, and what he’s a genius at is a particular kind of comedy. A lot of people say that there’s a particularly New Zealand sense of humor to his films–not being a Kiwi I don’t know that I could say, either way. However, if you’re a fan of Flight of the Conchords or Rhys Darby, you can hear the echoes of that comedy style throughout his work. It’s whimsical, clever, self-deprecating, ranges from surrealist to subtle. What it is not, ever, is mean-spirited. Sometimes there’s a light jab to the ribs, but it is always, always given with a quirk of a smile. Such a refreshing thing, especially given how… cruel comedy can be, in the wrong hands.

What’s more important than his skill with comedy, though, is the way he’ll layer in real, true feeling–and never makes it schmaltzy. If you’re forced to watch a “feel-good family film” from a lesser director, there will be ‘funny’ moments (often based in personal humiliation and mockery), there will be brief drama (usually melodrama), and there will be moments of poignancy where everyone realizes that they really do love each other, after all. Puke. Contrast here Waititi’s masterpiece–yes, screw you, it’s a masterpiece–Hunt for the Wilderpeople. This movie is genuinely, laugh-out-loud funny–and it also made me cry, genuinely, at the same time that it made my whole chest full and warm with sympathetic joy. The man knows how to layer in emotion with his humor in a way that doesn’t make the audience feel cheaply manipulated. When Ricky Baker earns his happy ending at the end of Wilderpeople, your face hurts from smiling and your eyes are wet, and–if you’re me–you feel grateful, to be treated like an adult by a director. Such a joy not to feel dragged along like a simpleton, not to feel like the script was written with crayon. (No spoilers for Wilderpeople, but if you’re reading this and you haven’t seen it, you fucking should. I think it’s streaming on Amazon right now.)

So. Then we came to Thor. I didn’t have high hopes for the character’s franchise after Thor: The Dark World (though I did like that movie more than most people, it seems). However, as soon as Waititi was attached, my immediate reaction was shock and then a thrill, and holy shit, did he deliver.

We open in medias res with Thor at the height (so far) of his power, and immediately you can feel the change from the previous films. Under Waititi, Chris Hemsworth is allowed to be… fun. Thor has gotten some jokey moments in his previous appearances, but generally speaking that pretty brutish brow is crumpled and weighed down while he muscularly grimaces about whatever the latest tragedy is. Leaping directly into this film, with that Thor jovially chatting with a skeleton and then just oozing pure arrogance at this absurd comic-book malevolent baddie, even as he dangles absurdly at the end of a chain–yes, I thought, yes. This is exactly what I wanted. The entire cold open of the film broadcasts so hard what we’re about to get into–yes, we’ll be watching Thor beat up minions, but it won’t be tedious as it so often is with these superhero jaunts. The use of The Immigrant Song just cements it, as Thor grins and jockeys and wins, as he always knew he would, perfectly choreographed to the riffs.

We could have lingered tediously here, too, but no–again, we’re shown how good it can be when a great director knows what the movie is actually about. The action scene unfurls and the script swings along loose-hipped, casual, knowing we can keep up. We’re introduced off-handedly to Skurge, with more of that lovely semi-absurd Kiwi humor, and those of us who recognize his name might raise our eyebrows knowingly–but the foreshadowing here tells us otherwise. He’s not a bad guy, not really; he’s just a person, beautifully humanized with his ineffective little boasting, just trying to do his new job. Our hero blasts forward, and again–here we are in pretty Asgard, and things are bright, loose, funny. The casting of the characters in Loki’s little play is joke enough on its own (and hallelujah to those three for agreeing to do it!), but here again: we’re given all the information we need to know about the background of the key relationship without going into tedious flashback, and while the emotion is dropped in as a joke we remember how intense it was, at the time… all while Thor watches, almost grim, and unsurprised, so the character development continues in the background.

I won’t go beat-by-beat with the script–though, christ, I could, you can feel Waititi’s hands all over it, smoothing and shaping and improving–but it really is impressive. It does its job, setting up for where we know we’ll need to go with Infinity War, but unlike some of the more boring entries in the recent MCU (and I am looking directly at you, Doctor Strange, no matter how fun your cameo is) this movie actually stands alone. It’s a cohesive story, fun diversions aside, with a single goal, and the reason it works is that Waititi knows what this story is about–and it is not about the larger MCU, not at all. It’s about family.

Hemsworth does a great job with his Thor this time around, better than he ever has. He’s not a bad actor, by any means, but he was previously given very little to actually do. His best moments, by far, were in those scenes he had with his little brother–and here we come to Tom Hiddleston, aka the reason the Thor franchise works at all in the first place.

I want to say that I am not a Loki!girl. Apparently they’re somewhat creepy. That said, one of the biggest coups in the entire MCU is the casting of Hiddleston as Loki–and, likely, the fact that Kenneth Branagh held the reins in the first Thor appearance, so the Shakespearean nature of the character could really be shaped for the franchise’s future. A wild-haired trickster villain, all bronze silly horns and green-and-black drapery, could have been purely preposterous–but from the first scenes with Hiddleston as Loki, he was more than that. One of the best single moments in any ‘superhero’ movie is the moment in the first Thor where Odin reveals Loki’s parentage; it’s beautifully subtle, heartbreaking, as Hiddleston casts his eyes to the side and breathes out, Laufeyson. That’s it. That’s the moment where everything cracks apart, and it’s done so very, very well. The heartbreak of that leads to the conflict in Thor, to Loki’s vicious appalling hurt in The Avengers, to the near-insanity and raging grief in Thor: The Dark World. Here, Waititi pulls back, which is the right move–Loki’s well of betrayal is still deep, but it’s been long enough that we’ve seen it, we’re kind of done, and while it still motivates his behavior we get the sense that Loki, too, is tired of it. He’ll fight his brother because they are not brothers, because that’s what they’ve always done, and yet… you can see the desire for reconciliation, lurking under the surface. The change in Loki gives Hemsworth’s Thor something fresh to work with–not only a heartbreak, not only a long-frustrated love, but finally his little brother. We can see the long history echoing back and forth between them, both the good and the bad of it. They smile at each other, even as they roll their eyes and fight and get frustrated, and it’s like coming home.

When I give writing advice, my first and biggest piece is always: what is your story about? I said before that Waititi knows this, and it’s what makes the movie work. There’s not really a B-plot–the whole story, all of it, is about the Odinson family, specifically about how Odin’s actions have reverberated through millennia. There’s a strong undercurrent thematically of imperialism, of the strong oppressing the weak, of thoughtless power crushing everything in its path (look to Jeff Goldblum’s [incredible!] Grandmaster, or even to Hulk, for echoes of this)–but it comes through most clearly in Hela, Odin’s first child, who learned his lessons of to the victor go the spoils far too well. In Hela we can see the biggest warning of what could have happened with Loki–power untrammeled, viciousness, the unloved child cast aside and made to hate. But again–this is a story about family. Hela runs roughshod over Asgard, desperate to rekindle her campaign of destruction–and what do we see, elsewhere? Thor and Loki, mistrusting each other, but working together. Thor gains his own allies, and Loki gains his, but ultimately the day is saved by the two of them, working together.

It’s not a novel idea. A disproportionate amount of good heroic fiction is about the good Many taking on the evil One, The Lord of the Rings being almost an Ur-example in modern fantasy. Personal supremacy is generally the trait of evil characters, while good folk seem to succeed entirely based on the Power of Friendship, the narrative rewarding them for sticking together with Handy Coincidences and usually a last burst of strength to take out the enemy. That’s certainly the case here… sort of. Valkyrie folds to Thor’s winning smile and dons her armor to finally avenge her fallen sisters; Bruce Banner makes the decision to sacrifice his self, to let Hulk back out, to save the helpless folk of Asgard. Loki sacrifices his freedom and a comfortable position at the Grandmaster’s side to help his brother. Thor makes the most visible sacrifice–expecting to lose his life, he instead loses his eye (connecting him back to his not-so-sainted father)… and thereby gains massive, massive power. What’s fun, though, and what separates this movie from its more tedious brethren is: this isn’t enough. We don’t have to sit through a forty-five minute slog of Our Heroes fighting together against Hela. They fight, certainly–and immediately realize that they will never, ever be enough to beat her, and so they sacrifice the biggest chess piece of all: home. It’s a big move, though relatively safe–audiences may like looking at Asgard, but they certainly don’t have their hearts leap in their breast when its safety is concerned. It’s not like we watched Earth blow up–no offense to Douglas Adams.

Still. Even as Asgard shatters and Hela (presumably) expires, we’re reminded: home isn’t a place. It’s people. Trite? It ought to be, particularly in Idris Elba’s somber tones. It isn’t, though, because Waititi earns it. We love Korg, and Maik–who’s not dead! (Hooray!) We’re proud of Valkyrie and Bruce. Even poor, doomed Skurge, who we knew couldn’t really be all bad, from his very first seconds on screen. This team that has been assembled is truly a team–more so than the Avengers, despite all the fanfiction that was written to the contrary. For me, the heart of the movie is the moment when Loki comes to Thor, affixing his new eyepatch, and there’s no great swell of music, there’s no hug, but when Thor tosses the little bauble, expecting it to pass through Loki like through so much ephemera–it doesn’t, because Loki is solid, and here, and home. Family.

The beautiful colorwork and clever camera movement and soundtrack choices (the return of The Immigrant Song as a capstone to the movie’s theme made the hair on my neck stand up even as I laughed out loud with delight–and it’s doing the same right now, even just remembering it) and all the excellent jokes, and everything about Jeff Goldblum and his cranky henchwoman–they’re really just icing on an exquisitely made cake. The bones of the film are solid, because they were put in place by a creator who knows what he’s doing and has the confidence to pull it off. (And hats off to Marvel/Disney, for letting him do so.)

In conclusion: Taika Waititi is my hero.

[syzyg3tic]

Yuletide 2020 letter

Hello!

Thanks so much for writing for me! I’m excited to see what you come up with :) Here are some of my general likes and dislikes, as well as fandom-specific thoughts. Please think of this as a grab bag of starting points or inspiration, not definitive prompts (of course)! I know I rambled about these in disproportionate amounts, but please know I’d be super happy to receive something for any of these 3 fandoms.

I’m not new to Yuletide, but I started over with a new Ao3/fandom twitter recently (nothing wild, just wanted a fresh start). My DW is still linked to my old Ao3 acct, so I made this sideblog for my letter. This unfortunately means there’s not much for you to poke around in to see my taste, so hopefully this does a good enough job! 

General Likes:

Character study/character motivation exploration

Multiple selves interacting

Expressing emotions physically--sex or kissing or any physical interaction as conversation/argument/apology/confession/goodbye

Characters A and B both having feelings for character C, and kissing/having tension charged conversations about them. 

Reveal moments (confessions, when a couple is discovered by friends, in general just the fallout from the moment when characters have to stick by the choices they’ve made about their feelings because other people know the feeling, now)

Getting together moments/firsts

I’m happy with 3rd person prose, and I also love 2nd person, so if you like writing that, feel free (not in a self insert way, I just come from a Homestuck background, you know).

NSFW likes: Again, no pressure to write porn, but if you do want to, here are some things I like to read about! These are for He’s Coming to Me and I Don’t Care only, not for Great Men Academy.

Sensation play

Breathplay

Solo/fantasizing

Sneaking around/trying to not be seen but very much going for it in sketchy locations

Emotional sex

First times/exploration of each other

Dislikes/DNWs:

Hard AUs (canon divergence is fine though)

A/B/O dynamics

Soulmate/one true love stuff

Daddy kink

Mpreg/pregnancy

Illness fic

Noncon

Scat/pee

Incest

Underage explicit fic

1st person POV

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FANDOM 1: Great Men Academy สุภาพบุรุษสุดที่เลิฟ (TV)

Characters: Love, Rose, Tangmo

I watched this show after tag nominations closed and was gutted that I didn’t get it in the tagset, but luckily someone else had my back! I love it SO much, especially the gender stuff and the self/identity stuff. I also loved how silly and whimsical the worldbuilding was. The fact that it was mostly a regular world just plus a few magical elements with some handwavy “don’t worry about it” aspects was delightful to me. 

I requested Love, Rose, and Tangmo, but you do not need to include all 3 unless you'd like to! I would be most happy with these combos: Rose & Love, Rose/Love, Rose/Rose, Love/Love, or Love/Tangmo.

For this canon, I’d appreciate keeping things at a T or light M rating (kissing and tension are both great, fade to black is fine if it is a part of the character study/plot, but I am not interested in pwp/explicit stuff for these characters).

Concepts:

Love/Rose or Love & Rose -  I adored the bathroom scene where Rose showed Love all her secrets. I loved their tension, as well as the sort of tentative trust and understanding they came to. Once Rose didn’t see Love as a threat, and once she started chilling her ass out a bit (partially because she saw how Love was handling things), they had a really interesting dynamic! I’d be happy to see them in any combination of Self forms. I do love Rose despite her many flaws so feel free to dig in to her fucked up side, but I’d appreciate not bashing her!

Friendship or Frenemy fic - Rose has been perfecting her look and her smokey eye makeup even in her Sean form, so her giving Love some makeover tips for her new form would be great? Or I’d like any way where they’d have to work together despite their tensions and come to form a tentative bond. Feel free to play up Rose’s big distrust/manipulative side.

Ship fic - I don’t see them having deep romantic feelings for each other, but I really love the idea of them in a sort of combative/understanding weird tension filled makeouts.  Mid-canon, the fact that they both are pining desperately and know each other’s secret could lead to some interesting interactions (Kissing About Vier? Swimming in the lake together? Shotgunning some lakewater?). And postcanon, they still understand each other in ways no one else does, because of what they’ve gone through. So I can see them keeping in touch and one thing leading to another. I like the idea of Rose thinking she’s in control of the situation, but Love’s straightforward no-nonsense caring and forgiving self sort of trips her up.

Love/Love or Rose/Rose - I am a huge sucker for multiple selves interacting, so when that happened in canon I lost my shit. I would be so happy to see more of that! Especially without the rest of the world watching on live TV, haha. I like this in a platonic way and also in a selfcest way, so feel free to have multiple selves kissing/experiencing the weird fraughtness of trying to understand themselves through the eyes of their other self emotionally or physically.

For both Loves, I’d love to see more of Original Love showing/telling her new self some love, maybe them going through her clothes together and deciding what to keep (I’d love to see new Love getting comfy wearing dresses again!), or talking about Tangmo and how things are going with him in the post-canon, or just being sweet and emotional and complicated! Working through what it’s like to live in the body she’s got for the moment! Love grew a lot over the course of the show, and both of her selves have a lot to learn from each other. I’m not interested in reading about her magically being turned back, though I know it is an in-universe option. 

For Rose’s two selves, if you went with a happy/bittersweet take like how she was at the end of the show, some forgiveness for her former self? Or Rose-as-Sean sneaking in to try on the VR goggles to see what it’s like? I could also see some messy combative fighting/making out happening, since she has a lot to work on inside herself/potentially some self-hatred. Or if you wanted to get really sad and dark, having her-as-Sean tell her the things she wished Vier would tell her? Anything in this vein. 

Love/Tangmo - Love is my favorite character, which is why she’s more heavily featured in my prompts, but I DO love Tangmo, and this pairing! I love that she inspires him to want to put effort into things, and that he has feelings for her as a person no matter that her gender is not what he thought originally. I want him to make her feel loved and wanted in her new form, and to make her believe him that he’d still be into her if she ever switched back (though I’m not particularly interested in reading about that happening).

Vier wasn’t in the taglist but you can include him if you like, as a side character!

Optional Gender stuff: 

I know that no two humans feel the same way about gender identity, and writing about it can be fraught for some people, no matter what their gender is, so don’t feel like you have to Get Into it, if you write this canon for me! That said, if you ARE interested, feel free to take into account these thoughts I have about gender and this series! 

It’s not all perfect in there--it is messy and complicated and multilayered in a way that really resonated with me, as a person with a convoluted self gender concept. The mishmash of magical gender wish fulfillment stuff AND dysphoria stuff AND fear of telling your family about your identity stuff AND identities misaligning and aligning romantically all really worked for me. I also appreciated that there are some really chewy difficult moments in there, but that it stays consistent tonally about both “your body does not dictate your gender” AND “sometimes you want your body to reflect your gender.” I feel like those are baseline concepts that can both be true, but often in gendery media you get “born in the wrong body” simplification and that’s it, which doesn’t resonate with me. Anyway, if you wanna get into gender stuff, I’d prefer it to not get preachy or label-heavy (i don’t think it’s a straightforward trans narrative, so trying to make it that doesn’t seem like a good idea to me). I mostly just like the concept of Love working through what it means for her to be a girl no matter what she looks like, and for Tangmo to be into her no matter what her gender is. So even when she’s in her new form, please use “she” for her, though obviously it’s ok for characters who don’t know her real identity to use “he.” 

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FANDOM 2: เขามาเชงเม้งข้างๆหลุมผมครับ | He's Coming to Me (TV)

Characters: Mes, Thun, Praifah

This is one of my favorite Thai dramas! I loved the romance, the family stuff, the premise, the friend group stuff, the grief and death and life emotional stuff--all of it! I loved it so much even though I watched it with the world’s worst resolution and not good subs, but (eta in december i learned an official translation and release exists now! here!) I’d be most interested in a missing scene or postcanon fic for this fandom. 

I am happy with fic that includes any combo of these three characters--they do not all 3 need to be present.

Concepts:

-Thun and Mes’s first time - You could expand on the tasteful fade-to-black we got in canon. What’s it like for Mes to feel things? I love physical exploration of sensation for undead characters! I can see it being overwhelming (in a good way) for him. I love the idea of Thun giving Mes a lot of attention, either in a slow methodical way or just being all over him, but wanting to let him feel things/feel good. I also like the idea of Thun wanting to take all he can of Mes for himself while he has the chance, since he’s not sure if they’ll get another.

-Thun and Mes in the future - The end of the show is happy, but their issues are definitely not over, and I’m interested to see how they’d deal with them. I’d love to see any kind of established relationship (potentially with flashback to when things were unclear between them?). What’s it like when they know each other well, either day to day or in their sex life? How do they deal with Mes not being able to expend a lot of energy without losing form? Is there a way for Mes to give him energy (hehe)?

-Far future angst - Mes is still gonna disappear one day. I am not always into angst, but I would be for these two, especially if it is balanced with bittersweetness/dashes of hope. How do they prepare? Would Mes find a way to leave a sign if it happened when Thun wasn’t around/what would he do if he WAS there in those last moments? How would Thun deal? I assume they have some good years ahead of them, but Mes DID have a heart condition, and may not have lived to old age ordinarily anyway, so there’s no telling when his actual time to go would have been. What happens if Thun dies first? Lots of ways you could take this.

-I also requested Praifah, because I really liked her character, and would be interested in seeing more of her. If you choose to include her, I’d enjoy seeing how she’s coping with all of this. I’d also like to see her and Mes have a conversation without Thun (I guess Mes can use a computer so he can type to her?? Or feel free to handwave or come up with a way to have them be able to talk face to face or something?) though he can be there for part of it too, if you like! Whatever ends up working. Mes and Praifah just have a lot of things to discuss, being both long lost family to each other, as well as having each been involved in the pain of the other. I really love when two characters who both have feelings about another character bond over the character they both love. I know Praifah has moved on to the lovely Prince, but I still feel like there’s some unresolved stuff going on and I want Priafah and Mes to talk about Thun, and what happened between all three of them! Lots of tasty tension and joy in there!

I didn’t nominate the other characters because I wasn’t interested in fic that focused on them, but feel free to include the other friends, Thun’s Mom, etc, as side characters if you’d like.

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FANDOM 3: I Don't Care - Justin Bieber and Ed Sheeran (Song)

Characters: Singer 1, Singer 2

This song is a little gay love story all neatly tied up in a catchy bow! I am not interested in RPF of Justin Bieber and Ed Sheeran here, but they are absolutely singing to each other in this song, huh?? 

You can take these characters in a lot of directions, since we mostly just know that one of these guys doesn’t like to wear a suit and tie, and the other is experiencing deep social anxiety, and that’s about it. Name them! Run wild! 

Concepts:

-The story of the song, fleshed out - Either the whole of it, or a scene or two within the party.

-Reveal moment/decision moment - I love moments where a queer couple braves the concept of PDA for the first time, or where a reticent person finally feels comfy enough to admit to others that they’re in a relationship! Not really looking for mega homophobia here, but if the people at the party don’t know they’re a couple yet, them finding solace in each other on the dance floor/kissing in the middle of this party could be a big Moment. If you want to keep this a sort of Vague non-bieber/sheeran but still a celebrity concept, the idea that they’d be photographed and it would be big news that they’re a couple could be an angle to take. They don’t care! They’re finally happy together after a moment of panic!

-Tie pulling  - It’s great and wow one of them at least is wearing one!

-Post-song -when they go home and presumably have a great time one on one. Can get E rated if you like.

[lifesa-witch-blog]

Witchy Questions

Here is the list of the 105 witchcraft questions I just finished answering. I answered one each day but feel free to answer them all at once or however you want to do it. Tag your it!

(Questions from @prettyalice13)

1. Are you solitary or in a coven? Solitary.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other? Other, I’m just a spiritual little witch. 😊

3. What is your zodiac sign? Pisces sun, Sagittarius moon, Sagittarius rising.

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess? Nyx, but I also feel a little pull from Brighid. 💛

5. Do you work with a Pantheon? Nope.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination? Tarot & oracle cards.

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any) Sage, Rosemary, I tend to stick to regular household herbs.

8. How would you define your craft? Very fluid.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do? No, and sure.

10. How long have you been practicing? Lightly for 2 years, just starting to get a lot deeper.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars? Yes, my beautiful cat Mollie. And a kitten named Rocky will soon be added to our crew.

12. Do you believe in Karma or
Reincarnation? Yes and yes.

13. Do you have a magical name? Yes.

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”? Yes? I’m an adult, so I haven’t made any big proclamation or anything.

15. What was the last spell you performed? A Lammas goodness spell jar.

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable? I’m getting there.

17. Do you write your own spells? Sometimes.

18. Do you have a book of shadows?
If so, how is it written and/or set up? I use Goodnotes on my iPad and have different notebooks on there for everything - spells, Sabbats, journaling, gratitude logs, crystals, astrology, etc.

19. Do you worship nature? Yes.

20. What is your favorite gemstone? Amethyst.

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work? Not unless it’s a feather or tooth found organically while I’m in nature. I’m on a journey to veganism, so I’m not really into that.

22. Do you have an altar? Yes.

23. What is your preferred element? I would say water.

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist? No.

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch? No.

26. What got you interested in witchcraft? I’ve always had an interest in it since I was young.

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch? My husband is usually hanging around, does that count? lol

28. Have you ever used ouija? Once. But I am not a fan of it. It gives me a bad feeling.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic? I definitely had psychic tendencies, but it’s a craft I need to hone.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it? He’s a Native American man I was related to in another life.

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started? Stop feeling like a failure because you don’t have “everything a witch should have” or know everything right away. It’s okay to learn slowly and do things your own way.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite? I was a very lazy witch until a month or so ago, so I haven’t celebrated the Sabbats with more then greetings to my fellow witches and a small prayer, but that’s about to change. I’m very excited to start celebrating all the Sabbats and making offerings/feasts. 😊 My favourite sabbat has always been Ostara.

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children? Sure. I am already teaching my son to love and respect nature.

34. Do you meditate? Yes.

35. What is your favorite season? Spring/summer.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform? Full/new moon rituals are my favourite.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life? I am constantly talking to Nyx, asking for guidance or giving my thanks.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie? The Craft.

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why? Practical Magic by Nikki Van De Car was the first witchy book I bought to gain more insight & get advice and it really ignited my journey, so it has a special place in my heart. I’m not sure what my favourite non-fiction book is my favourite. The one I’ve read most recently is The Witch of Willow Hall by Hestor Fox and I really enjoyed it.

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not. The first spell I performed was a releasing spell and it definitely helped with releasing my guilt and some of my grief surrounding my son’s stillbirth.

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you? I haven’t had anything super crazy happen. Maybe a quick prayer for abundance and then suddenly getting extra money.. or all the synchronicities I experience when I stand in my own power and walk my path without apology.

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use? I don’t do a lot of candle magic, so I generally use white candles.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool? I’m a big fan of my tarot/oracle cards. I pull cards for myself every day. I also love crystals.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools? Not yet, but I want to make myself a wand.

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fae or spirits? No.

46. Do you practice color magic? I’ve just gotten into this. I’ve been feeling a strong call help realign my throat chakra & learn to unapologetically speak my truth, which has brought on a strong need to be around the colour blue.

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind? I get some pointers from a friend of a friend. But nothing I would consider a mentor.

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies? Amazon or a local witch shop. 😊

49. Do you believe in predestination or fate? Yes, although I also believe in the power of free will and that we have the ability to change our fate.

50. What do you do to reconnect when you are feeling out of touch with your practice? Meditation, reading, learning something new.

51. Have you ever had any supernatural experiences? Yes. Many.

52. What is your biggest witchy pet peeve? Gate keeping. Everyone’s practice is different. “Your” way isn’t the only right way to do things. 🤷🏻‍♀️

53. Do you like incense? If so what’s your favorite scent? Coconut. lol

54. Do you keep a dream journal of any kind? Yes.

55. What has been your biggest witchcraft disaster? Nothing major. I think just making a mess while mixing herbs and spilling moon water.

56. What has been your biggest witchcraft success? Honestly, my biggest success is the confidence and empowerment I’ve gained.

57. What in your practice do you do that you may feel silly or embarrassed about? I used to be embarrassed about not having enough stuff, or saying the wrong thing.. I basically had zero confidence in myself and in my abilities.

58. Do you believe that you can be an atheist, Christian, Muslim or some other faith and still be a witch too? Yes.

59. Do you ever feel insecure, unsure or even scared of spell work? I used to, not so much anymore.

60. Do you ever hold yourself to a standard in your witchcraft that you feel you may never obtain? Not anymore.

61. What is something witch related that you want right now? A wand, and a crystal ball. 😊

62. What is your rune of choice? I haven’t really gotten into runes.

63. What is your tarot card of choice? The death card - I’m in a season of releasing the old and welcoming the new.

64. Do you use essential oils? If so what is your favorite? My favourite is a blend of peppermint, eucalyptus & lime. 🤤🤤🤤 It makes me feel so calm and relaxed.

65. Have you ever taken any kind of witchcraft or pagan courses? No.

66. Do you wear pagan jewelry in public? Yes.

67. Have you ever been discriminated against because of your faith or being a witch? No.

68. Do you read or subscribe to any pagan magazines? No.

69. Do you think it’s important to know the history of paganism and witchcraft? Yes.

70. What are your favorite things about being a witch? The things I’ve learned - releasing what no longer serves me, self love, confidence, standing in my own power, speaking my truth, welcoming new things, loving and respecting nature.

71. What are your least favorite things about being a witch? Nothing?

72. Do you listen to any pagan music? If so who is your favorite singer/band? I really love My Mother’s Savage Daughter by k.l.kahan as Wyndreth.

73. Do you celebrate the Esbbats? If so, how? I am not in a coven and there are none near me, so no.

74. Do you ever work skyclad? I have, yes.

75. Do you think witchcraft has improved your life? If so, how? See my favourite things about being a witch.

76. Where do you draw inspiration from for your practice? Love, nature, Nyx.

77. Do you believe in ‘fantasy’ creatures? (Unicorns, fairies, elves, gnomes, ghosts, etc) Sure.

78. What’s your favorite sigil/symbol? I have one for self love, that I really like.

79. Do you use blood magick in your practice? Why or why not? I honestly haven’t tried it yet. Although I heard menstrual period is incredibly powerful in spell work. I haven’t been brave enough to try it yet.

80. Could you ever be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t support your practice? No.

81. In what area or subject would you most like your craft to grow? Astrology.

82. What’s your favorite candle scent? Do you use it in your practice? Vanilla, coconut, anything warm and inviting. And yes, I do.

83. Do you have a pre-ritual ritual? (I.e. Something you do before rituals to prepare yourself for them). If so what is it? Meditate, rest, take a bath, “spiritual hygiene”.

84. What real life witch most inspires your practice? I think my practice is really a culmination of all the witches I’ve ever encountered/learned from. I couldn’t point out one specifically.

85. What is your favorite method of communicating with deity? I just like to talk to Nyx, either aloud or in my mind.

86. How do you like to organize all your witchy items and ingredients? Usually mason jars? lol

87. Do you have any witches in your family that you know of? No.

88. How have you created your path? What is unique about it? I think my path is mainly about being the best me I can be and giving/receiving unlimited amounts of love. I’ve dealt with depression my whole life and witchcraft has helped me see that even in the hardest of times, there is still goodness & strength within me to hold on to.

89. Do you feel you have any natural gifts or affinities (premonitions, hearing spirits, etc.) that led you toward the craft? If so what are they? I’ve always been very sensitive to spirits and see/hear things that aren’t there.

90. Do you believe you can initiate yourself or do you have to be initiated by another witch or coven? Either one works. Whatever you feel drawn to.

91. When you first started out in your path what was the first thing or things you bought? Tarot cards.

92. What is the most spiritual or magickal place you’ve been? The grotto at the church in my home town. It buzzes with energy, you can feel it vibrating in the air.

93. What’s one piece of advice you’d give someone who is searching for their matron and patron deities? Ask for a sign.

94. What techniques do you use to ‘get in the zone’ for meditation? Slow breathing, ocean sounds, quietly acknowledging then dismissing any intrusive thoughts.

95. Did visualization come easily to you or did you have to practice at it? It depends on where I am emotionally.

96. Do you prefer day or night? Why? Both? I love the energy and warmth from the sun. It makes me feel safe and loved. But I also love the strength and vitality I feel from the moon. I always feel “more” when I’m under the moon - more beautiful, more confident, stronger, wiser, braver.

97. What do you think is the best time and place to do spell work? I do more spell work at night because of how the moon makes me feel.

98. How did you feel when you cast your first circle? Did you stumble or did it go smoothly? I have cleansed my work space, but I have never cast a true circle. 😳

99. Do you believe witchcraft gets easier with time and practice? Yes.

100. Do you believe in many gods or one God with many faces? I believe there is a universal spirit that presents to each of us in the way we need to see them.

101. Do you eat meat, eggs and dairy? I’m on a journey to veganism. Currently, I only eat small amounts of fish, chicken, eggs and milk. I eat no pork or beef.

102. What is your favorite color and why? Purple and yellow. They’re bright and beautiful.

103. What is the one question you get asked most by non-practitioners or non-pagans? How do you usually respond? I can’t think of anything specific.. just about what I do or what I believe in. I answer honestly.

104. Which of your five senses would you say is your strongest? Probably sight? I’m not sure.

105. What is a pagan or witchcraft rule that you preach but don’t practice? I can’t think of any, honestly.