#i just don't meet the criteria anymore i don't want to pretend to have something if i clearly don't. that feels weird and fucked up

[pondscummy]

so me and roommate L talked on Sunday and I finally like aired some of my grievances and was like hey you really hurt me w how you treated me during my recovery and I realized I actually really don't feel like I can safely communicate with you and I haven't felt like I could for a very long time. and they did apologize and we decided to just be polite roommates and not friends at all and that's a big relief honestly bc now I'm not carrying around this tension the way I was before bc I know there's not expectation from either side but like. it's also freed me up mentally where I'm not thinking about all the immediate stuff anymore and instead I'm like remembering various random things that pissed me off but weren't big enough to focus on before lmao

the one I'm stuck on rn is how insistent they are that I'm on the spectrum. idk they do a lot of explaining myself to me that makes me like. bro shut Up you don't know what my lived experience is like lol you have no concept of anything. which. for context I have a dx and I thought I was on the spectrum for years and years but weirdly enough going to therapy and working through my ptsd made a lot of those symptoms just.... start vanishing. and one of my friends had been undiagnosed for the same reason so it got me thinking about it and talking to my therapist at the time and like. ptsd can present rly similarly. like I was neglected and abused as a child and I literally did not learn social skills, and I was very fearful of other people. as I like worked through the stuff that had instilled that in me and found my stride w stepping out of my comfort zone and getting comfortable being uncomfortable I really don't find it particularly hard to talk to people. I retook the RAADS and I got that I have tendencies but am not anywhere near diagnostic level. I'm literally moving states bc I find the idea of being in a new place and starting from scratch socially rly exciting and I want to like go out to events on my own and meet people both through apps and more organically and I want to get to be in the office with my coworkers like. obv there's more to a dx than just social anxiety but the things that my dx was primarily based in (social anxiety, need for stability/routine, aversion to connection, even sensory issues) are so easily linked back to trauma for me and like. being on the spectrum doesn't go away w therapy?? also I've found it harder and harder to befriend other people on the spectrum; I find I have less in common as time goes on and that my communication style is more focused on like small talk and less directness etc. and I don't tend to get special interests at all anymore like I find it a little difficult to discuss interests w people for long periods of time.

anyway idk my experiences just make me think that it was an incorrect dx but a rly understandable one. I'll probably always have tendencies and get along pretty well w others who do or who are on the spectrum but like I just don't think that I am. and whenever I tried to talk about this with them they'd shut it down and be like um I'm pretty sure you are lmao. and when we talked Sunday I made a comment about making some assumptions about their facial expressions at one point and they were like well we're both on the spectrum so. and I was like my guy I can read facial expressions just fine. if you're saying I can't read yours accurately bc You're on the spectrum then fine. sure. I actually think it's bc you're always so fucking stoned that every muscle in your face is dangling from the frame, personally, but like. i don't have this probably of misreading anyone else dude. like ffs stop armchair diagnosing me and acting like bc you said it then it's law. UGHHHHHHHHHGGGHHHH. it would be one thing if I thought they were saying this stuff bc they think I'm distancing myself out of internalized ableism or something. but it really seems more like they bring it up only to tell me how bad I am at things. which like I'm sorry lmao but. if I'm not giving this vibe to anyone else and I'm not displaying symptoms predominantly in my day to day life and if they're rly seeming to be correlated to my ptsd, maybe you're literally just triggering for me to be around. asshat

[aashiqeddiediaz]

I want all of these but right now, I'm craving a really quiet, tender moment (maybe a friends to fiances?) so how about: “ if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, i'd say yes. “ “ what about today? “

It is literally so slow-moving, but here we are xD I hope you like this, my love, though I'm pretty sure I don't quite meet the criteria, outside of the prompt.

[pesto, pasta, proposal - AO3 Link]

Word Count: 4245 words

Eddie’s life changes in aisle 13.

He’s not expecting it, of course. He never expects the curveballs Buck throws at him.

But somehow, this one is one that he both sees and doesn’t, from miles away.

-----

They stop at a store on their way back home, because Eddie hasn’t had time to do groceries this week, and Buck needs—

“—the finest ingredients. I can’t use any less than the finest ingredients, Eddie,” Buck insists as they pull into the grocery store parking lot.

It’s the small one that Eddie’s come to think of as theirs, because the cashier knows them by name and they always have everything they need. It also always has Buck’s ridiculous brand names in stock, and Eddie won’t admit this even on the pain of death, but it’s the only store in a five-mile radius that stocks up on Buck’s favorite chip brand.

“No one’s asking you to.” Eddie kills the engine and pockets his keys, absently running a hand through his wet hair and grimacing at the thought of going outside with it. “Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can go back home to Chris.”

He pretends not to stare at Buck’s beaming smile.

“Hey, Eddie! Hi, Buck!” Zia tosses out as he swipes a customer’s groceries at record speed on the far counter. Parvez and Naina chime in from the other two, and Eddie waves at them as he follows behind Buck’s cart.

Grocery shopping for Eddie consists of a list on his phone that Christopher helped him set-up (with a lot of eye-rolling and many muttered comments about him being some kind of dinosaur), and he recites it under his breath as they coast down the aisles.

They have a system in place, carefully curated after months of shopping for groceries together. They start at the back first, and then move forward so they always land up where the cash register is, and Eddie follows blindly as Buck ventures into the far-aisle looking for a specific seasoning.

All he’s got on his list is that they’re out of black pepper and oregano and Eddie scans the shelves, throwing them into the cart. He turns to find Buck staring at all the labels with a critical eye, moving slower than a snail.

“Aha! There it is,” Buck crows, reaching for bay leaves and curry powder.

Eddie snorts, running a finger along the sharp plastic edges of the cart.

Buck hears him and levels him with a glare as he bends to put them carefully into the cart. “Keep that attitude up and see if I cook for you anymore.”

Eddie snorts again.

Buck glares but lets it go as he stoops to grab another ingredient that Eddie wouldn’t know how to use if his life depended on it. The label reads ‘fenugreek seeds’ — the most Eddie knows of are fennel seeds, and even with his limited knowledge, he knows those are not the same.

He stares skeptically at his best friend as he straightens. “Do you even know what that is?”

Buck shrugs and looks down at it. “I don’t know, but Ravi said to use this one.” He pulls out his phone and turns the text towards him. “See? Fenugreek.”

Eddie’s still no less confused, but he gestures for Buck to get on with it. “Let’s go, then.”

Flour, sandwich bread, bagels and those spinach tortilla wraps that Chris has come to love all go in the cart. They stop in the cereal aisle to fight briefly about getting brand-name cornflakes, or the better, store-brand ones.

“What’s wrong with Kellogg’s?” Buck gasps, stretching past Eddie to snatch the box from his hands.

“The fact that they’re two dollars more expensive, and you get less per box,” he retorts like they’re ten year old kids and not thirty-something adults. “Plus, these just taste better.”

Eddie tries — he really does — not to flash a cocky smile when Buck begrudgingly drops three boxes of store-brand cornflakes into the cart.

At the very least, they’re united on not buying the cereals that give Christopher a sugar high and a subsequent crash that results in cranky mornings.

The squabble continues when they get to the pizza rolls, because Buck likes the triple meat ones, and Eddie only really likes the triple cheese ones.

“They’re too greasy!” Eddie defends, shuddering at the phantom feeling of tasting three different kinds of grease from processed meat, plus the oily cheese. He’s never been able to stomach the smell of them, let alone the taste.

“Christopher likes these, too,” Buck says smugly — a little too triumphantly, like someone who’s played a royal flush.

Eddie makes a face at him, but they get the triple meat pizza rolls.

Eddie makes a pit stop in the pharmacy to get another pack of razors, toothpaste, and a bottle of mouthwash. By the time he gets back to where Buck’s picking produce, the cart is already half full.

“We were supposed to get only a few things,” he comments dryly as Buck drops a bag of red onions into the cart.

“It’s not my fault your kitchen never has anything I need.” A small bag of baby potatoes goes right along with it.

Eddie knows for a fact that he has potatoes in his cabinet. He narrows his eyes at him. “I wasn’t expecting a bonafide MasterChef to commandeer my kitchen.”

“Get used to it, then,” Buck hums, poking Eddie’s cheek as he moves past. “Could do with upgrading your appliances though, some of them are older than you.”

“Idiot,” Eddie mutters under his breath, making sure to be loud enough for Buck to hear him. “What’s wrong with the potatoes we have at home?”

The collective terms slip past his tongue before he can reel them in, and Eddie desperately hopes that Buck doesn’t catch them as he busies his hands with bagging a head of lettuce.

Someone up there is listening to Eddie mutter furious prayers under his breath as he bites his tongue, because Buck doesn’t even miss a step when he scoffs. “The fact that you even have to ask me that proves that you shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen. Baby potatoes cook better and faster, and they’re tiny! Why wouldn’t you want those?”

Eddie decides to leave the produce decisions to Buck. He flicks through the rest of his list idly, grabs a container of hummus, picks up a bottle of ranch dressing, and grabs salad ingredients.

“I’ve got everything I had on my list,” Eddie tells him.

“I just have two more things on my list, and then we can go,” Buck says, scrolling through his own phone. “Both in the pasta and pasta sauce aisle.”

“Aisle 13 it is.” Eddie leads the way, listening to the rickety wheel on the cart creak as they turn into the aisle.

It’s there that everything changes, and also, somehow, doesn’t.

“That pasta is disgusting, Buck.” Buck groans as Eddie stops him from tossing a package into the cart. “Even I wouldn’t eat it and I spent years eating MREs. It’s too gummy, sticks to your teeth, and even your sauce and lots of cheese can’t save it.”

“But it’s good for you!” he exclaims, gesturing at the long list of health benefits printed on the front of the package.

Eddie’s philosophy is that if something begins to look like a page out a textbook, he’s not buying it. “At what cost!” he retorts, swiping the box out of his hands to place it back on the far shelf. “It’s probably one of those nasty health trends that are worse for you than the real deal.”

“Eddie.”

“I saw the face you made when we had it last week,” he continues, ignoring the stern tone of Buck’s voice. “You didn’t like it, either. Then why, exactly, are we buying it?”

Buck levels him with a look as he points at all the regular all-purpose brands. “Because we eat too much of this processed stuff.”

“Then pick another brand. Get whole wheat for all I care, but we’re not getting the fake gluten-free one,” he says with finality ringing in his tone, leaving no room for argument.

Buck tries to go for it again but Eddie digs his fingers into his side and he relents by pressing forward with a sharp burst of laughter, his proximity backing Eddie against the shelf and holding him in place.

All mirth between them evaporates in a split second.

It’s not that they’ve never stood this close before, but it’s never felt exactly like this — like they're pieces of flint waiting to strike together just right. Buck’s eyes flick down to Eddie’s lips and back up so quickly that Eddie wouldn’t have caught the movement if he wasn’t staring straight at him. Absently, he realizes that his hand is still on Buck’s waist.

Carefully, he flattens his palm, splaying his fingers as if all of Buck could fit under the brand of five strategically placed fingertips, and he’s about to—

A soft laugh breaks the spell between them. Buck and Eddie freeze as they turn to look towards where an old couple stands at the end of the aisle, looking at the two of them with creased, wrinkled smiles.

Eddie can feel his face start to heat as Buck stumbles away from him, clearing his throat as he goes. His entire body feels cold, the loss of Buck’s body heat jarring in a way he doesn’t know how to understand — in a way he doesn’t know how to recover from.

“Sorry, we were just…” he offers, trailing off because he doesn’t actually know what they were just doing. Only that he can see the redness on the tips of Buck’s ears, and that his own face feels like it’s been set on fire, and that’s the only proof he has that it was something .

Unfortunately for them, even if Eddie doesn’t finish the sentence, the couple’s smiles only get wider, as if they know something Buck and Eddie don’t.

“I remember those days, when Salma and I were younger.” the man says, nudging his wife with a bony elbow. “Couldn’t keep my hands off her.”

“Benjamin!” she exclaims, swatting at her husband. “You watch your mouth, what will they think?”

Despite himself, Eddie has to smile at the way the man pulls her closer, affection clear between the two.

His smile drops as soon as she turns back to them, looking between Eddie and Buck like she’s trying to figure something out. “How long have you two been married?”

They both fall still.

Buck chokes on his own spit behind him and Eddie has to thwack him across the back a few times to clear his throat before he finally stops coughing.

“Oh, dear,” Salma says, looking worried as she covers her mouth. “Did I say something?”

Buck recovers from his fit, stepping up next to Eddie. “Uh, not long.”

It’s Eddie’s turn to choke as his head whips to the side.

He’s pretty sure that being hit in the face with a frying pan would shock him less than this.

His hand falls away from Buck’s back as he stares holes into the sides of his face. His best friend chats merrily with the old couple, throwing out details that Eddie only barely hears through the roaring in his ears.

To his credit, Buck doesn’t lie at all. He talks about them being partners, talks about Chris, talks about working the same job and how it’s the easiest thing in the world when his partner is the person who knows him best.

Eddie can’t deny the burst of pride that skitters across his skin at that.

He watches the line of his throat as Buck tosses his head back to laugh, and watches the genuine grin on his face get wider when Salma and Benjamin ask after their first meeting. He watches the way Buck’s expression melts a little as he recounts some of their quieter moments, and for some reason, Eddie knows with unparalleled certainty that he’s not acting.

Just like he knows that Buck is genuinely interested in knowing Benjamin and Salma’s love story, and that the questions he’s asking are not to divert the attention away from them.

Eddie lost his ability to speak somewhere between being pressed against the shelf and being interrupted from crossing all the lines, but he smiles and laughs along on auto-pilot as Buck holds the conversation.

“Did you get married young, then?” Buck asks.

“Oh no, not at all. We wanted to, but back then, it was harder to get married outside your community. My parents never cared that he wasn’t Indian, or even South Asian,” Salma says, nostalgia clear in her tone as she reminisces. “They only cared that he was also Muslim, and that he was a practicing one. But my father’s brothers took issue, and threatened my father against the marriage. It took some years before my father stood in front of them and told them that I could marry whoever I wanted. And I wanted Ben, who had waited for me all those years.”

“When you know, you know,” Benjamin said, smiling down at his wife. “I would have waited my whole life if I had to, because no one else would have held a candle to her.”

Something about that strikes Eddie, and as he turns to watch Buck’s expression take in Benjamin’s words, he thinks that maybe he’s known all this time, too.

“Well, your husband looks at you like you hung the moon yourself. I don’t imagine one could get luckier than that,” Salma says to Buck, knocking Eddie from his reverie.

It’s then that he realizes that his smile is far too dopey for his strictly best-friend status, and he schools his expression quickly before Buck turns to look at him.

Buck, thankfully enough, doesn’t linger on Eddie at all, the corners of his mouth tipping down with something Eddie knows is shy embarrassment.

The question is, at what — pretending they’re a married couple, or getting carried away with the details?

“You make a beautiful pair,” Benjamin says as they walk past, patting Eddie’s shoulder with one hand and pushing his glasses up with the other. “Hold onto him, son. You don’t get a love like that everyday.”

“I will,” he promises, smiling at the kindness in Benjamin’s eyes. He’s aware of Buck tensing beside him, and Eddie knows that he hears the vow in his voice.

Despite playing into the misunderstanding, Eddie can’t do anything but stare at his best friend as the old couple shuffles out, hand-in-hand. They’re the only two people left in the aisle, the quiet stretching between them.

The fifteen minutes that someone else believed that Buck was his husband — that someone like Eddie could have someone like Buck — were a gut punch, but now that they’re over, it’s all Eddie can think about. All he can think about is going out in public with Buck actually being his husband, because it’s an idea that has taken hold of Eddie’s heart and now absolutely refuses to let go.

Buck, for his part, looks like nothing ever happened as he turns back to the pasta, scrutinizing each one with an unparalleled precision to replace the one Eddie won’t let him get. He hums under his breath, taps a beat on the cart handle, and shuffles through packages of broken pasta shells to get to the boxes at the back.

“We gonna talk about that?” he says when he can’t stand the sound of Buck’s casual humming anymore. He reaches towards the top shelf and grabs a jar of alfredo sauce.

Buck takes one glance and steals it out of his hands to put back. “Talk about what?”

Eddie gestures wildly around them. “I don’t know, how about everything about whatever you just said? Like the fact that you let them think we were married ? Why did you do that, by the way?”

Buck sighs as if Eddie’s inconveniencing him with all the questions, but he turns to face him for the first time since Benjamin and Salma left them standing in the middle of this minefield. It’s only then that Eddie notices the tension bracketing his eyes, even as he tries to appear aloof.

“Why did you? You didn’t correct them either.”

And that is…true. Eddie didn’t.

There had been plenty of opportunities in the fifteen minutes they’d been talking to Benjamin and Salma for Eddie to interject and say that they weren’t actually married — and weren’t dating, either.

Eddie has one simple reason for not wanting to correct them, and it’s in the form of three words and eight letters.

“I-I mean. I didn’t want to break the illusion.”

That’s possibly the worst thing he could’ve said if he’d meant to hide the weight of what he feels to Buck, but now he’s said it and Buck’s looking at him like he doesn’t know what to make of it.

He could play it off. He could say that he didn’t want to break the illusion of long-lasting love that Benjamin and Salma clearly have of them. He could say that he didn’t want to break an elderly couple’s heart, or say that they were never going to see the old couple again so who cares what they think Buck and Eddie are.

He doesn’t do any of it, because suddenly, he’s so, so tired of playing off his feelings as if they’re nothing, when in reality, it’s torture trying to hold the words off his tongue.

I wanted it to be real.

Buck’s looking at him like he’s holding his breath, and Eddie realizes that this means something to him, too. Something that’s equally as heavy as the weight on Eddie’s chest when he thinks about what his best friend means to him and in this quiet moment stretching between them in the middle of aisle 13, he can’t think of anything but finally crossing that line.

But he needs Buck to say something first.

“Yeah, and I didn’t correct them because…” Buck’s fingers clench the box he’s holding to the point of creasing it, until Eddie thinks his thumbs will tear the package. “Because if you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.”

Holy. Fuck.

Out of all the possible things Eddie had even hoped Buck would say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. But there it is, the confession hanging between them like it doesn’t know where to go.

Strangely enough, the tight grip on the box is the only hint that Buck’s even nervous at all. His eyes look lighter as they stare back at Eddie, as if he’s relieved to finally get something off his chest, and his shoulders are relaxed.

Right there, standing between a bottle of pesto pasta sauce and a bag of orzo, Eddie makes a decision, and the words leave him before he can even process them. “What about today?”

It’s Buck’s turn to stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as if he was expecting Eddie to laugh him off or something.

And Eddie isn’t going to ever have Buck think that he means less than what he actually does — isn’t ever going to have Buck think that Buck means less to him than he actually does.

“What?” Buck breathes out.

“What about today?” he repeats, pushing the cart away from them so he can step in front of Buck, looking him in the eye. “What if I asked you to marry me today?”

“Eddie, I—”

“It’s something, right?” Eddie cuts him off, on a roll now. “This thing. The routine we have, the way we’re a package deal everywhere, the way my son defaults to you when he can’t wiggle something out of me. The way I look for you everywhere, and the way I can’t even come to the fucking grocery store without you because it’s so goddamn boring to do it by myself. The way you hate laundry so you always sneak them into my washer because you know I’ll fold them, and the way that it’s always you cooking dinner and me washing dishes at the end of the night. It means something, right?”

Buck studies him, finally abandoning the stupid pasta. Eddie lets him search his face for whatever he needs, because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s just put his beating heart in Buck’s hands only for him to reject it.

“It means everything,” Buck admits. “I never know how to stop myself from playing house with you two, like it’s real, like this is mine.”

Playing house? Like it’s real?

Eddie’s heart shatters at the thought of Buck still not understanding.

“Because it is real, Evan. Chris and I aren’t pretending when we say we need you, and that you’re part of our family. We’re a family, and we are yours.” He motions between the two of them. “Buck, this is what I want for the rest of…”

He wants to say forever, because the rest of his life doesn’t feel like enough.

“This is what I want,” he says instead, the words feeling inadequate in his mouth. He feels clumsy with his love, even if it’s one of the only feelings he’s ever been confident about. “Forever.”

“I can’t believe you, you asshole,” Buck laughs wetly before he draws Eddie into a kiss that fries every last nerve in his brain.

Eddie freezes for a second, for the first slide of Buck’s lips against his, but quickly gets with the program, drawing him closer with a hand at the back of his neck. Here, in the quiet of the large flickering bulbs above them, the moment feels tender and significant. Buck’s hand comes up to cradle his jaw and slip into his hair, deepening the kiss, and with every spark that skitters across his skin comes another sense of home that locks Eddie into place by Buck’s side.

When they pull away, Eddie discreetly pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming.

“Yeah,” Buck murmurs against his mouth, grinning too widely. “I’ll marry you, but only if you let me get the pasta.”

Again the pasta.

This time, Eddie can’t even bring himself to joke about it, one-hundred percent serious when he says, “you can buy out the whole fucking stock for all I care, just as long as you say yes.”

He presses his lips to Buck’s again just as the other man snakes an arm around his waist.

“Must be true love if you’re willing to put up with gummy, disgusting pasta for me,” Buck laughs, his hand spanning the small of Eddie’s back.

Eddie knows he meant it as a joke, but he can’t help but tip his forehead briefly against his partner’s. “Because it is.”

“Very romantic.” Buck smiles, before his expression shifts into something softer, warmer. The shape of his mouth softens until Eddie wants nothing more but to kiss him again, but it’s what he says next that lights the flame in his bloodstream. “I would, you know. Marry you today.”

Eddie kisses him before they’re forced to pull away by a group of teenagers skidding in to beeline towards the ramen packets, laughing and stumbling over each other as they haul them up by the boxful.

“Come on,” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s — his  fiancé’s — hand. “Let’s go home first. We’ll talk about getting married later.”

Buck concedes for a store-brand bulk bag of chickpea noodles instead, as a compromise. Eddie swipes a jar of pesto sauce, discreetly picking the one right above where they’re standing as if that jar holds all the sentimentality in the world.

This time, when they leave aisle 13, it’s hand-in-hand, on the same page.

“You think the thirteen is weird?” Buck says, staring up at the number as they pass it.

Trust Buck to believe in the unlucky numbers, right along with all the jinxes, curses and hexes in the universe.

Eddie laughs. “No, I don’t. But if I had a lucky number, it would be thirteen.”

“Sweet-talker,” Buck grumbles.

This time, when they approach the register, it’s not just as partners — it’s as fiancés, too. Benjamin and Salma are standing at Naina’s register, and when they catch sight of them, Eddie and Buck wave.

“I want that to be us one day,” Buck comments quietly as Eddie starts putting their stuff on the conveyor belt. Eddie turns to look at where Benjamin’s sneaking a chocolate bar onto the belt behind his wife’s back and smiles.

“I think it already is,” Eddie says dryly without looking back, knowing that when he turns back around to their groceries, Buck will have snuck two bars of Christopher’s favorite chocolate into the pile when Eddie wasn’t looking.

“I love you,” Buck whispers in his ear as he pushes the cart past him. Eddie was lingering behind only to swipe his card, but his fingers fumble with his wallet as his head jerks up. He hadn’t really prepared to hear Buck say the words first, but as he swings his gaze towards him, where Buck’s smile is brighter than the sun, he knows that he’s been heard, too.

“You get everything you need?” Parvez asks as he scans the last item.

A proposal for his best friend that he’s been desperately in love with for months hadn’t really been on Eddie’s shopping list, but hey, what even was grocery shopping if he didn’t pick up something extra.

Eddie catches his fiancé’s eye and grins. “Yeah. I think we did.”

[mimisempai]

I made a wish and you came true

Summary:

Sylvie asks to see what the prince of Loki looks like. When he shows her she laughs at him. Count on Professor Loki to give her a lecture about his Prince.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32183185

1731 words - Rating G

In storm-black mountains, I wander alone

Over the glacier I make my way

In the apple garden stands the maiden fair and sings,

"When will you come home?"

Loki had to stop, overwhelmed by emotion.

Sylvie, her eyes devoid of all mockery, said softly, "So there is a would-be-princess somewhere..."

Loki chuckled sadly before replying, "I like metaphors you know, in this instance, it's not a princess, it's a prince, and I don't know if he's waiting for me or hoping to see me again, it's not even really my home, but..."

"...but you'd like to believe it, right?"

Loki could only nod.

"Show me your prince."

"No way," Loki replied, shaking his head.

"Come on, please Loki!" she paused before continuing, "If you show it to me I'll tell you in detail how I enchant people!

Loki couldn't resist, so he turned his hand and there appeared a mini hologram of Mobius.

Sylvie approached and looked at him closely before sitting down again.

Loki made Mobius disappear.

"Don't tell me that that little man with no stature, no class is YOUR prince?!"

Loki wished he had his brother's hammer to blast her with lightning bolts.

"Yes this is my prince! And your impudence has earned you a lecture on the definition of Prince Charming by Professor Loki!"

Sylvie snorted and told the passing maid to bring her a glass of champagne, because finally she was going to need it.

"First of all, you should know that the charming prince doesn't exist only in fairy tales.

In real life, he is not perfect but he has many qualities that are essential to be wonderful. Is Mobius my Prince Charming?" He didn't wait for an answer.

"To find out, I'll show you point by point that he meets all the criteria that make him a prince for me."

Sylvie settled back in her chair to enjoy the show.

"First, the Prince Charming is generous. He is generous in every sense of the word. He doesn't hesitate to invite you to an excellent restaurant and to offer you a gift you've been dreaming of. Ok, ok, I agree, I didn't have time to fully test that point. But that's not all! He is also generous in giving you all the time you need. He is also able to have an attention that will brighten your day. And Mobius devoted an enormous amount of time to me, when nothing required him to."

Loki thought back to the time Mobius had spent with him just before they left for the mission. He had taken the time to show Loki that he wasn't the villain he thought he was. Nothing forced him to.It wasn't necessary for the mission. In a place where everything was about time, Mobius hadn't hesitated to give him time.

Sylvie simply nodded and waved her hand impatiently for Loki to continue his «  lecture."

He took a sip, cleared his throat and continued.

"Second, the Prince Charming committed. He knows what he wants. He gets up every morning knowing exactly where he is going and what he wants to do. He is also resolute, he has goals in life and intends to achieve them. What is touching is that he is not bragging. Humility is his middle name. Quite my Mobius."

Sylvie noted, fondly, the possessive pronoun, but said nothing.

"Even though he pisses me off, because he is narrow-minded about the TVA,  what he thinks is real. Nevertheless, he still manages to impress me because he believes that what he does is his reality and that he does it for a better world, he does it with all his heart. And when he talks about it there is so much candor that even I have a hard time getting him to see the reality of things."

Loki remembered their discussion in the cafeteria.

Loki had asked him completely sincerely, because he wanted to know what made Mobius go on, "I mean, you really believe in all this stuff, don't you?"

Mobius had replied simply, "I don't get hung up on, 'Believe, not believe.' I just accept what is."

Loki had tried to show him the absurdity of a world ruled by the 3 time keepers and Mobius had replied by telling him that his story, Asgard, mystical realm, beyond the stars, Frost Giants was the same thing.

He remembered Mobius' words perfectly, "Actually it's exactly the same thing. Because if you think too hard about where any of us came from, who we truly are, it sounds kinda ridiculous. Existence is chaos. Nothing makes any sense, so we try to make some sense of it. And I'm just lucky that the chaos I emerged into gave me all this... My own glorious purpose."

Loki had chuckled, to hide the fact that he was disturbed by the accuracy of Mobius' argument.

Mobius concluded by saying, determined, "Cause the TVA is my life. And it's real because I believe it's real."

Committed, yes, his prince was. Loki realized that he missed their discussion. Rarely had he met someone who could resist him intellectually.

"Hey! Loki! Are you there? "Sylvie was waving her hand, seeing that he was lost in his thoughts.

Loki regained his composure and moved on to his next point.

"Third, the Prince Charming for me must be smart but not pretentious, yes because there can only be one pretentious and that is me of course. Who wouldn't want a smart, educated man? Mobius is extremely smart! Can you believe that he knows hundreds of languages more than I do because he has been working in the multiverse for so long! And best of all, when I tried to manipulate him on my first consulting assignment, he figured me out. He almost knew right away that I was trying to play for my own side. Okay, it's a little humiliating. But that's the charm of him."

If Loki was honest, that was when he started to fall under Mobius' spell.

He had been so sure that he could get what he wanted from him. He was sure he had hooked the fish and then Mobius had blurted out, "He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there."

Loki blushed slightly as he thought about how he had been found out by Mobius at that moment. That's when his interest had been piqued, because Loki couldn't resist a challenge.

"You know Loki, it's almost cute how you have it bad."

"There's nothing funny about that." retorted Loki before resuming, "Fourth, my prince is someone I can lean on. He is a pillar on which you can rest. Imagine, Sylvie, we were working at the same desk and I fell asleep. And on top of that he let me sleep. You know he has this quiet strength. That thing that makes me know that with him I don't have to pretend anymore. But anyway, I was talking about Mobius, not me."

Sylvie moved closer to Loki and said with a smile, "From my point of view it's the same thing."

"What?"

"Nothing, go on."

Loki looked at her strangely before continuing.

"Fifth, my prince is listening. You know I talk a lot and three quarters of the time to say nothing important. But Mobius, even if I tell him something stupid, he listens to me as if it were the most important thing in the world. And most importantly, he really hears me. He can read between my lines and my metaphors, which he also loves. He's much better at getting people to talk than I am. He was able to see and make me say things about myself that no one had heard before. Sometimes I feel like he's the only one who knows who I really am."

Loki had to stop because the scene was still so present in his mind.

"I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline. I don't enjoy hurting people. I... I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to."

Mobius' tone, his look, his whole being turned toward Loki when he had said just that, "Okay, explain that to me.

Then Loki told him that he knew he was a villain.

Mobius' simple but straightforward answer was, "That's not how I see it."

"Hey Loki? You okay?" Sylvie had put her hand on his arm, looking concerned.

Loki pulled himself together.

"Yeah I'm fine."

He coughed and continued, "My Prince Mobius has an incredible number of qualities but I've summarized them for you because we don't have enough time. So I'm going to conclude this lesson by telling you that the quality that attracts me most to him is that he's surprising. He surprises me all the time. Which is paradoxical after all, I am supposed to be chaos and he is supposed to be order. But he surprises me. Where everyone else hates me, he is there and sees qualities in me that even I don't see. When everyone wants me gone, he doesn't hesitate to put his own head on the line so that I don't get erased. Mobius is not perfect, but he is perfect for me. Because precisely, he doesn't put me on a pedestal but he doesn't make me feel inferior either. He treats me as an equal."

"Okay, okay, okay, it's fine he's a Prince. But the mustache though..."

Loki looked mischievously at her and leaning in close to her ear, he said softly, "His moustache is very nice when he kisses me."

"Loki!" she moved back and flicked him on the forehead.

He took a sip of champagne and they remained silent for a few moments.

"And you told him all this, well not in so many words of course?"

Loki's smile disappeared.

"Because of you, I didn't have the time. And I hope that all of this won't have ruined this beginning of a relationship.Anyway, I'll tell him when we meet again, or at least I'll try to, as long as he wants to listen to me..."

Sylvie smiled softly, clinked her glass against Loki's and said softly, "You're insufferable to the core, but I sincerely wish you'd have the chance to talk to him. "

Loki nodded, this time he was determined to fight, because for the first time it was his own happiness that depended on it.

_______

The whole serie here : The story of Loki and Mobius

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[patchun]

WBaWC Deep Dive: Part 1/2

Lots of philosophical ideas are presented and explored in this game. In this post I aim to point them out. ZUN stated this in his SCooW interview:

"There isn't any sort of obvious theme to the story this time. It's mainly just an introduction of "there's a world like this out there". There's a variety of things going into that world, particularly satire, but if you ask what the work wants to show you, there isn't much in particular. "Here's this world called the Animal Realm, and here's these various elements spread throughout it."

And after doing a ton of digging... yeah, I think he's right. I was kind of hoping there would be something unintentional, but because the perspectives of the human and beast spirits aren't really shown, and only the spirits of their rulers, taking an actual message away from this game is very difficult. That said, I feel with this game more than any other, it's very easy to identify why certain decisions were made. Why is the first boss a stillborn child? Isn't that pretty random? No, let's look into it.

The story this time is quite complicated, so you may not be able to see the whole picture if you just play as one character. To be fair, you may not be able to do so even if you clear them all. (lol)

This will obviously be based on my own interpretation. Long post ahead.

Eika Ebisu. The soul of a stillborn child, and a master of stacking stones. Importantly:

She and the rest of the stillborn child spirits at Sai no Kawara stack stones as work every day. They stack stones as work, in Shinto mythology this is as repentance - because they brought sorrow to their parents by dying too early. Kind of morbidly amusing, I guess, but ZUN makes it a point to say this:

She's also a god of fortune who's able to change simple, pointless work into something that's enjoyable and worth doing, and who can make the best out of any bad situation.

Her ever-cheery demeanor, bright intellect, and penchant for constantly holding exciting new events like stone-stacking contests makes her the Sai no Kawara's resident idol, beloved by all the children's spirits there.

With the spirits of stillborns, yes. I feel like it's more hopeful to portray them as having fun in the afterlife, you know?

Being a god of fortune, Eika is able to make stone stacking FUN. The simple labor of stacking stones for these kids is no longer labor for repentance, but a game, thanks to her (NOTE: labor.) For that reason she is the resident "idol". She is probably the most healthy idol in the game, according to the ideology ZUN seems to be presenting, but we'll get into that later. There's more to this character.

In philosophical discussions of animal rights, when we ask "what is it that makes humans worthy of moral rights", we try to find a criteria. Something that humans have that nothing else does. That criteria then needs to be defended as being a good reason for humans to have moral rights. Used to, sentience was the argument made for human uniqueness. Humans are sentient and conscious, while animals are, in Descartes' scummy terms (sorry, I hate Descartes) "mere automata". We worked on this assumption from that idiot for years, but recently it has been scientifically proven that animals, at LEAST mammals, birds, crustaceans, cephalopods, and reptiles, are sentient, and it is summarized in a document called the Cambridge Declaration of Consciousness.

So this proves a problem for those who believe animals aren't worthy of moral rights. So then, what else do humans have that animals don't? Why are we special in deserving moral rights? Well, that would be our intelligence, right! Even the smartest animals are only about as smart as a five year old (this is not actually true but let's just pretend it is, they're smarter). But then, if intelligence is the criteria for moral rights, then what exactly is the system here? Does that mean that children are less worthy of moral rights than adults because they aren't as intelligent? Does this mean that people who mentally disabled and not viewed as "intelligent" by parts of the populace should be less deserving of moral treatment?

This has been a veryyy simplified summary of the discussion, but here's where it gets even more interesting. You see, here, two controversial ethical topics meet - abortion and animal rights. Because if you want to argue that sentience OR intelligence are the criteria for moral rights, then in either case, early fetuses absolutely do not have moral rights! This is a problem for anti-abortion arguers, which is a funny intersection in my opinion. I bring this up because, of course, while Eika is not an aborted fetus as far as I know, she is still a fetus. She is quite out of place in a game where the rest of the opponents up to Keiki are animal spirits, right? But no, the fetus and children in general actually have a very philosophically interesting place in animal rights discussions, because oftentimes to argue that animals are not deserving of moral rights you also have to take away the moral rights of children. In case this whole thing has left you confused, the side I took was that sentience IS the criteria for moral rights, meaning both animals and children have moral rights, while fetuses don't.

Now, what does Eika tell us about this? Well, nothing. Just that ZUN seems to have thought about it, really. But there are two keywords that apply broadly to WBaWC as a whole when talking about Eika:

Labor

Moral value

So let's continue.

Urumi Ushizaki. Seeing a farm animal after a stillborn child really set off some alarms. Her name translates to "moist beauty". Not sure I needed to know that, but I came across it in my research so now you do too.

She carries a stone carving of a baby. Once she gives the baby to someone to hold, she makes it heavier and submerges them in the river. She was an awe-inspiring youkai who took advantage of humans' kindness. However, since she's forbidden to attack humans in Gensokyo, she currently runs a fishery at the Sanzu River.

If one tries to cross the river without a shinigami's permission, they'll be attacked by creatures like extinct giant fish and plesiosaurs. Nowadays, she spends her time domesticating those giant fish, and makes a living wage by sometimes selling them in Gensokyo.

A baby then a cow with a baby. Urumi is the "Parental Guardian of Ancient Fish". She apparently domesticates them and makes a living wage (interesting terminology?) sometimes selling them to Gensokyo. But, it's implied that as a fisher, she actually cares about these fish. In Reimu (Wolf)'s story:

Reimu: I'm fine, thanks. If it's just fish I'll have to deal with, I'll filet 'em no problem.

Urumi: That so? Fine by me, then. I won't hold back when I turn you into food for my beloved ancient fish!

When Reimu threatens her fish, Urumi gets defensive. She refers to her fish as "beloved" and suggests valuing them over the protagonist, even though she isn't supposed to attack humans. In the SCooW interview, ZUN is asked, more or less, what's up with the fish in the Sanzu river? He responds:

It's full of fish that died, or went extinct. They can't go to Hell or the Netherworld after they die, you see... since fish and insects are in a bit of a separate category, the way I think about it.

So, remember that distinction we made earlier when talking about Ebisu? How the animals that have been proven to be sentient are mammals, birds, reptiles (cephalopods, crustaceans)? That excludes fish and insects, and here, ZUN makes that distinction as well. Fish sentience is still pretty up in the air at the moment. But that said, if there's any unintentional message in WBaWC, I suppose it would be here.

The fact that Urumi is able to domesticate these ancient fish in the first place implies a certain degree of sentience, and moreso, even without that, Urumi pretty clearly ascribes moral value to her fish in Reimu (Wolf)! In almost all routes, she defends her fish and suggests she'll feed the protagonist to them, but Reimu(Wolf) makes it the most clear that she actually cares about them. Which, when you think about it, of course you'll care about the things you domesticate.

Also Urumi's design is so cool and yet no one draws her anymore. Justice for Moist Beauty. There is more to be said about the livestock theme of this character, but we'll get back to that when we talk about Yachie's profile.

Kuwaka Niwatari.

Her true identity is that of Niwatarijin, the god of wild chickens from before they were domesticated. People tend to think of chickens as being sort of weak and cowardly, but she's a polite and just god who values equality and altruism above all. She's quietly considering what she can do to help raise the status of chickens, who've been reduced to a food source for humans.

If you've been following along so far, you probably understand already where this is going. A few words may stand out here. Domestication, equality and altruism above all, status, and "food source for humans."

Kutaka is probably the blatantly nicest character in WBaWC, who tests you because she's worried that if you go further, you'll be hurt (after winning, of course, the protagonists insult her). There's not just a ton to say about Kutaka's character itself, but there is this tidbit in ZUN's interview:

Chickens don't usually have a very positive image attached to them. Calling someone a "chicken" certainly doesn't make them sound strong either, right? And the only other common impression of them is as food, so I tried to give her a dignified feeling.

So, ZUN has deliberately designed Kutaka to be dignified, noted that she is a character who values equality and altruism, and included that one of her motivations is to raise the status of chickens who have been "reduced to a food source for humans." What's fascinating is that by creating Kutaka this way, he has given us a message - ZUN believes, to a degree, that Kutaka's motivation is a just one. Kutaka is intended TO raise the status of chickens. So let me say this. To those of you who made fucking chicken wing jokes after this character was revealed:

STOP. FUCK YOU. STOP.

If you'd like to repent, you can start by stacking stones. Trust me, it's fun!

Now, all of this is cool, but part 2 is where it's going to get interesting - when we finally get to Yachie's profile, the description of the "Animal Realm" of Hell. I'm excited, but I need to make dinner. Part 2 coming soon.

[hhjs]

rewind, revive. (all that we are.)

pairing. — kim sunwoo x reader.

genre. — angst.

alternatively. — wherein letting go is all but a reminder of why he seemed to hold on.

mystery trope!

word count. — 2.8 k

note. — inspired the nbhd's 'wdywfm' and 'reflections'. (impacting characters exactly in that order of the songs.) this is unedited so bear with me lmao

Regret is a funny thing.

One can feel it approaching light years before the realisation hits. Like squinting at dim headlights in the distance, before the vehicle picks up pace, before the tires skid against wet gravel, before it finally, finally occurs that it's too late, too late to go back and walk away, to stop oneself from facing the impact head on. From having the air knocked right out of one's lungs.

Sunwoo knows for a fact what he is doing fits that criteria.

Something about the prevailing silence that comes after heated arguments is utterly eerie; being an on and off couple for the longest time indicated that you recognised that much.

"I think we should take a break. Figure things out on our own."

He looks at the little scar you'd gotten from accidentally ramming your toe into the doorframe because you were too excited to see him. (It's healing.) No, that's not right. From this position, sat atop the sofa, when he's holding his head in his palms as your tone rises mid syllable, that's all he can see. No, he can't look at you. He can't look at himself in your eyes now, dropped way below all expectations you held to him once, silhouette of his peeved face in them leaves a rancid emotion inside his belly.

"Is that what you really want?" You ask, this time with a slight hint of surrender in your voice.

Sunwoo wants to say he doesn't exactly know what he wants, what he is feeling, perhaps it's the aftermath of working too hard, taking on too much stress, or so Changmin explained to him earlier that week, he doesn't quite perceive himself as someone who could lament his problems easily - however, it's very clear to him that he is pushing you away, sealing himself off suddenly, missing out on dates, calls and falling short in the department of being his usual affectionate self.

Or maybe, Sunwoo doesn't love you anymore.

What if he's never loved you at all? What if whatever you have is all a resultant of mere infatuation and he was too young to differentiate from the start?

Whatever it is, Sunwoo isn't too sure, but you... obviously notice. He's always finding excuses to distance himself and it's changing you, who you used to be when he fell in love with you. In fact, every day is a constant evidence of just how disconnected your relationship is from how it was in the beginning, in the 'honeymoon stage' or whatever. The way he tenses up when you throw an arm around him every night he plops down against your shared bed too late, only entertaining your comforting words with monosyllabic responses; he seems to test your patience, trying to find your breaking point.

And this is it, he thinks.

What you suggested as an innocent movie night with him, trying to get him to talk to you, about anything, anything at all, soon took a bad turn when you reached out to interlock your arms and he found himself brushing you off.

It was just the same little act that piled and piled atop all of his 'little acts' and this final blow sent everything tumbling down, all at once. The way you stared at your spread out, empty palm as you asked him why he was being like this is an image he finds difficult to forget.

Albeit he doesn't hesitate, asking you to stop nagging him, to stop overreacting. To just leave him alone.

Now, with the weight of his words absent inside, all he senses is blatant emptiness taking refuge in its place, an epiphany that he can't take back what he said.

You don't say a word when Sunwoo's reply comes in the form of an affirmative nod and what's worse, he thinks, is that you don't look surprised.

As if you saw it coming all along.

...

When he agrees to put up with one of the double dates Eric set, it's because his friends are convinced that the relationship has reached a dead end. Sunwoo ignores that idea and indulges in what he perceives as newfound freedom.

Even though the excitement of getting to know someone new is momentary, replaced by a strong underlying feeling that nauseates him. Whenever Sunwoo looks over the candlelight and watches his date smile back at him, it feels like he's doing something wrong. Something hypocritical.

Recently, every day feels the same. Every hour melding into the same old routine. This is boredom, Sunwoo tells himself, though he's positive it's anything but.

It's quite a surprise not having chanced upon you by accident, given years of dating has merged your social circles.

Really, when he thinks about it, Sunwoo's known you for the longest time.

Since he was sure he would fail a calculus pop quiz and he kicked your chair to gather correct answers, you were so shy, innocent and how that sparked a sense of adoration in him for the first time ever, since you ended up becoming best friends in spite of your essentially different personalities. Sunwoo tries to remember the exact feeling of snowflakes collecting on his cheeks, in your eyelashes, his cool fingers in his pockets, while a street light buzzed overhead - not every detail is clear - but the sight of your beaming face as he timidly confessed his feelings is unmistakable. As time passes, he tries thinking about it more and more, afraid someday he'll look back and miss out the most essential rudiments of the event. Or worse, forget altogether. It's such a distant, fleeting moment that elicits a bittersweet sensation in him. Sweet because some part of him will always be entwined with some part of you, bitter because you were no longer together.

Sunwoo shakes his head, as though the gesture ought to come in assistance in ridding himself of the aforementioned thoughts. He's the one who wanted this whole break thing, right?

He pushes his trolley around, leans on the handle like he used to as a kid and paces up through empty lanes after looking around to see that the seven eleven store is mostly empty. He successfully breezes through aisles and throws in packaged kimbap, frozen fried rice and crisps to his trolley; and then, suddenly, a juice extract shelf in the distance catches his eye.

Sunwoo focuses his vision and marks his next destination, all the while imitating low humming of a makeshift engine with his mouth.

But of course, much to his dismay, his trolley jams right into another that approached out of the aisle to his side that he hadn't kept an eye on in moving only forward.

He mutters a string of quiet apologies, bowing briefly and hoping to God that the person hadn't heard him swear under his breath. "It's alright."

Sunwoo looks up and blinks curiously recognition washing over him.

It's only been a few weeks but the sight of your face, the real thing, not instagram photos, not the ones in his money bag or photo frames in his drawer, hits him with the force of a bullet train.

Your face is bare, shadows splattered against your forehead and the tip of your nose because you're wearing his - and he only realises now - ridiculously big, pink bucket hat, a hand casually positioned into a jacket pocket, there's something so endearing about this.

"Hey." Sunwoo says.

"Hey."

You stare at him for a good second and then as if realising something, you blink rapidly, fishing out a pear extract juice to dump it in his trolley. "Here."

It is an unspoken gesture, to relay that you still remember what he likes and what he doesn't like, that you've unraveled the likes of Sunwoo, excavated all the little, measly, trivial quirks, secrets and lies buried deep inside the cavity of his chest.

"Thanks." Sunwoo just stares, entranced.

It is only when he's back home, nuzzled into the comfort of his favourite blanket that still smells a little like you, does he realise he misses you.

...

"I don't care."

Sunwoo thinks he means it, like this, when he has a hoodie pulled over his head and balances a controller with great expertise, looking perfectly unfazed by Chanhee's comment about whether or not he should invite you to his party, it almost sounds true. "I just wanna see them." He settles. Time apart only reminded him just how impatient he could be when he wanted something and wasn't getting it immediately. He is seeing clearly, you're the only constant in the overwhelming vicissitudes of his life, the only one who saw him at his worst as you did at his best and stayed. That comfort, that very familiarity, is far better than the infamous honeymoon stage or any stage, for that matter.

Sunwoo realises that now. Even if it's just a little late.

Rolling his eyes, Chanhee pushes a grocery bag containing the former's snack and tears open a packet of honey crisps.

Prior to this confession, no matter how much Sunwoo insisted that he was fine, that his stare didn't linger every time he mistook a stranger for you, that he definitely didn't pretend to do the dishes even though he refused to do the chore under any other circumstances just to overhear his friends talking about a new event in your life, or just... about you, Chanhee doesn't believe him.

In retrospect, no one does. But Chanhee is least discreet about it.

"I don't suppose that's a good idea..." He pauses, swallowing, "What if things go south?"

Beneath an act of trying to untie the grocery bag, Sunwoo contemplates that he doesn't know how to respond to this inquiry, he had pictured your next meeting many a times, prepped himself to do or say very particular things, the way you always made up, time and time again forgiving each other in spite of all obstacles in your way, to a point where you friends got tired of you going back and forth, convinced that you could never really break up... - no, he is sure nothing can change, that's a blatant impossibility, Sunwoo knows you and you know him. No matter how much he fucks up - you know he'll always come back to you.

That's how it has always been.

"Figures, huh?"

Sunwoo scoffs, noting the way his friend's expression morphes to a confused furrowing of brows. He holds the yellow classic salted packet up instead whilst wrinkling his nose more than necessary, knowing the remark would prompt Chanhee to get annoyed and forget all about his own remark. “You got the wrong flavour again.”

The older male crumples a crisp in his palm and flicks it at Sunwoo.

The answer is simple, he'll never know if he never tries. Love is not chance but a decision, love is a choice, isn't it?

Well, Sunwoo chose you, he chooses you. He'll choose you over and over again.

...

"Can we talk?"

You nod slowly, a sigh escaping your parted lips. An expression on your face that Sunwoo can't put a finger on. But he doesn't have to, not when you comply so easily, joining him out into the balcony divorced from the apartment rife with noise and evidence of inebriation.

You lean over the railing, your eyes travelling far off into the impossibly dark scenery, the silence is imbued with a vague sense of eerie, the kind that ensues before something terrible happens.

All Sunwoo can think about is how beautiful you are. Suddenly, he feels guilty - see, he can't remember the last time he appreciated you, showered you with accolades you most certainly deserve. He mimics your position, turning his head slightly to take in every detail. Committing it all to memory. Things are different now. You look different.

Last time he saw you, he could map out the swollen quality of your eyes, nails bitten and chipped, the little characteristics that gave away you weren't doing well. Now, there's an indescribable glow to your face, something under the perfectly dolled up look, the red beret on your head, matched with an utterly fabulous coat that guards you from cool autums.

It's a new outfit. The discomfort is newer.

"You look great." He finally speaks and it's not the best way to start a conversation that's dangling by its last finger, akin to an inexperienced acrobat - he doesn't know what is.

You chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to say?"

"N-no...I just.." he pauses, the words all bundling up on his tongue into one big mess of sentences that don't make any sense. When you finally look at him, leaning back on your elbows now, Sunwoo gulps, this isn't a figment of his imagination, no, this is real. It's now or never. "I'm sorry." He starts, the mere utterance of those words seem to spark no change in your appearance. As if you're waiting for him to continue. Right now, apologies just aren't good enough. "This whole thing was so stupid. Baby I-I know I fucked up but... I love you. Okay? I promise I'll do anything to make it up to you. Whatever you want."

You stare at him for a long second, just letting his words sink in but also just seemingly allowing yourself to think. Then you push yourself up, standing straighter. "You dont have to." You say simply, a hint of finality laced into your tone. All Sunwoo finds himself thinking is how you don't reciprocate, uttering the same I love you like you always did. Out of habit.

He curls his fingers into fists, knuckles whitening and whitening under the strain. His vision is a blurring film against which you look like a faint silhouette, secluded by rivulets of raindrops racing down windows. It's embarrassing, how he feels, all those bubbling emotions reduced to that of a child being denied his favourite candy.

"W-What is that supposed to mean?" He blinks, finding that you're staring at your spread out palms. Like they're evidence for something you've done.

"Sunwoo." You say. It sounds like a warning, like a don't get any closer. "I don't like who I become when I'm with you."

At this point, Sunwoo just listens. In his mind, he hadn't foreseen this. He knew it wouldn't be easy, he knew he had to try his best but...this...losing you... that was out of question. Right?

No, he tells himself, he'll fix it, he'll get it together.

"You know, I was really angry at you for breaking up with me...but it was probably for the best." You produce a garbled laugh, lifting your face skyward, looking up at the glossy layers of pollution, of purplish clouds and the barely there moon behind, like you're reading off sentences from them. Sunwoo stares at you, he wants to reach out and trace the curves of your face without thinking twice, without holding back. "We did need time to think... and it made me realise that I've always loved you more than you've ever loved me. Heck, even more than I loved myself...and... I can't be that version of me again." You sniffle, "That's not love... That's devotion."

"Hey, don't say that!" He drags his fingers up from the railing and reaches out to touch your elbow, "Come on...we-we can work it out. We always do." These words , they come out all choked up and hoarse.

You stiffen up at the sound, "You're not listening to me." You shrug him off, adamantly piloting your gaze to linger away from him, your back's turned away from him but then you pause, just slightly looking over your shoulder and your gaze softens at the sight of him using his sleeve to dab at his cheeks. The gesture makes him feel hopeful, just for a second. 

Then you sigh, shaking your head, "Don't you get it?" You say, "We can't fix this...we can't fix each other.

Inexplicably, he thinks of a perfect world, where he could go back just once, where it all started, everything before, holding his head in his hands and the little scar on your toe and is that what you really want?

This time, Sunwoo would mutter a quick no. He'd flick on the television and snuggle into your side, talking mindlessly about something that makes you laugh.  To forget all about the stupid argument.

But in reality, he lets your words ricochet off of the walls, listening to the transient beats of music pouring into the balcony when you slide the door open to let yourself out. 

It shuts.

Everything goes quiet.

And this soundlessness, this solitude, he knows this, he's heard this, he's seen this, he's felt this, this... this is final,

 this is goodbye.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ava & James

Ava: So, campus bars Ava: Avoid entirely or cheap enough to make the cringe worth it? 🤔🤔 James: use your student loans wisely enough that cheap is avoided entirely Ava: Ugh 😏 I thought you'd give real advice if I got you off the clock James: go with your gut, option 1 James: you're not striking me as someone to base their social life around KCLSU's quiz night Ava: I love trivia like I love cheap white wine spritzers and school spirit James: knew you'd fit right in Ava: Can I put that resounding endorsement on my application then, James? James: it'll carry more weight if you accidentally add the I when you write my name James: but I didn't say that James: slip of the pen, that's all Ava: My lips are sealed Ava: There's plenty of time to meet him and double up on kudos James: I hear the girl's hazing rituals are savage James: stand you in good stead that will Ava: No one is scarier than a high school girl Ava: Nor as petty and sadistic Ava: I think I'll survive James: they've toned it down since that girl had a mental episode post head shave James: sure you will Ava: Very chic Ava: Do you wait 'til the UCAS app has gone through to drop the horror stories usually or are you really bad at this whole recruitment thing on purpose? James: it's my 1st time playing tour guide James: potentially I'm less than cut out for it Ava: I won't lodge a formal complaint Ava: Unless you're turning over DMs as feedback, in which case, awkward James: I won't be, some girls think I have more sway than I really do James: awkward indeed Ava: God Ava: Not even my first choice Ava: Though makes you wonder how effective attaching nudes to your cover letter would be James: they'd have to take that on a case by case basis Ava: 🤞 that you don't get the one token woman on the panel James: not your 1st choice, no need to cross anything Ava: Hypothetically, James II Ava: Why was it yours, then? Ava: Student life evidently not being it James: it was my only James: it's gonna end up being Teddy's too Ava: He hasn't turned up to business studies in time Ava: But slip of the pen, I get you James: my older sister got all the brains and none of the sense of fun Ava: Know the sort Ava: Bet I still likes you better though James: I wouldn't go that far Ava: Too far for a taster sesh Ava: Understood Ava: Don't suppose you'll point me in the direction of where you actually hang now then? James: I suppose I could Ava: Please Ava: Bored is an understatement Ava: I'll still show up all present and correct for the debrief thing tomorrow James: it's such a good thing here isn't your 1st choice Ava: You should give me the real tour Ava: I'll keep my lips sealed James: can't I get another please before you do? Ava: Please do not invite your brother Ava: He got us kicked out of Mahiki last month it was so tragic James: he's a disgrace Ava: Most of them are James: I don't associate with anyone who still goes to Mahiki regularly Ava: It's pretty played out James: if they'll let Teddy in they're getting desperate Ava: 😂 awh James: you ready now? Ava: Already out Ava: Figured you better pick me up from The Vault Ava: Consider it a mini hazing of my own James: keep your lips sealed that I'm going within 100 yards of the place and sure Ava: Don't worry Ava: The others are at the cinema or something equally as lame the school put on for our 'overnight entertainment' Ava: I'm sick Ava: No selfies James: the hangover'll make it look & feel convincing Ava: That's a promise you can put your wallet behind Ava: I am a guest James: you don't want put your fake ID on the line either Ava: Bold of you to assume I've ever needed to buy my own drinks 😏 Ava: I didn't bring it alright, shut up James: you don't need it, I'm only playing Ava: 😾 James: how many drinks has my brother bought you? Of course I need to 1 up him Ava: Total? Ava: Not as much as he'd like but lots Ava: Not trying to milk this sibling rivalry or anything, have known him ages Ava: Well before Mahiki would let him in, like James: hardly a rivalry, you know him well enough to realise Ava: True Ava: You do what feels right and I'll let you know by the end of the night then James: very straightforward James: I like it Ava: You don't know me well enough yet but that's par for the course James: I knew your brother for years & I didn't know him James: we'd need more than an evening Ava: I'm as comparable to my brother as you are to yours Ava: Probably James: show me, I'll show you Ava: Deal Ava: But we will need more than an evening Ava: to make it fair James: you can have until you're bored Ava: You'll want longer when you aren't anymore James: I'm used to things not lasting as long as I want Ava: I'm not your average Ava: You'll see James: bold of you to assume I've ever settled for average Ava: I didn't say THE average James: I heard you say my average Ava: No need to be offended by better, is there? James: bemused at most Ava: You're welcome Ava: but you are meant to be entertaining me, not the other way 'round James: you brought up fairness James: & it's a good point Ava: How do you propose we make it fair then? James: I entertain you tonight, you entertain me whenever you've thought of your own tour worth taking me on Ava: That's actually a good idea Ava: and entirely fair James: Teddy'll cost my dad more to secure his place than I did, I've got some brains on board Ava: No doubt Ava: Gave his name to the right kid, clearly James: My sister was undoubtedly relieved James: though Diana has its own pitfalls Ava: 😬 The jokes write themselves James: they do Ava: Perks of having a relatively untouched name James: it does suit her, she's very much a martyr Ava: Did you do an English degree? Ava: You're good at painting a picture with words Ava: See 👸 so clearly James: sadly not James: maybe I'll go back & do it if I ever finish the current one Ava: Student forever vibes Ava: Fuck real life James: then again, being the kind of dad who drops their kid off for classes & pulls up his own chair at the table doesn't sound like a great idea Ava: Just make sure its not their first choice, yeah? James: oldest's already smarter than me James: won't be a problem Ava: There you go then James: where's yours? Ava: Currently undecided Ava: It's more a case of sorting the 2-5 James: & how's that going? James: this place being a solid 5th Ava: Its been a solid mix of fun and boring working it out Ava: Better than another night in Mahiki at any rate Ava: I'll have to decide eventually but even my mum can't demand I do quite yet James: don't over complicate it James: they're not all that different James: I've got friends studying all over the map and they're still basically doing the same things I am Ava: See, that's what I figured Ava: But try telling that to a woman who was Cambridge or bust Ava: It's more about the vibe of the place, the people, the ethos and the lecturers not being the worst stereotypes of boring/creep Ava: again, if I tell her vibe is on my criteria she'd actually kill me before I could apply anywhere so 🤷 James: your secret's safe with me James: even if our mothers were friends, mine is currently not speaking to me Ava: How's that? James: it's something I'm fairly used to James: she's not a big talker James: more of a fan of a dismissive hand gesture Ava: Gotcha Ava: Not a whole lot to miss James: she's got lots to say about my parenting style but who hasn't Ava: Shame you don't talk to my brother now James: I don't suppose he sees it as a shame Ava: Probably not Ava: He's not one for regrets James: me either James: it's why we started out friends Ava: Feels like ages ago Ava: Since he still lived here James: it kind of is James: he left before he left Ava: It's complicated James: it's not my business Ava: Not mine either so Ava: Whatever James: car's here James: are you going to make me get out for you? Ava: You're meant to come in here Ava: Don't you trust I can keep my lips sealed? James: I don't trust it to be entertaining in there James: hence it's not part of the tour Ava: Please James: Oh Ava James: [but does come in we all know he would] Ava: [clearly making him stay for a drink and play pool or something in this student ass bar] James: [when you're whipped for someone you're not even dating lol] Ava: [When Chloe is your missus] James: [to be a fly on the wall in their relationship tbh literally imagine] Ava: [oh lordy how you have not been missed girl] James: [at least the new kid is young enough she can dress it up still and it can't talk back so she can pretend she gives a shit and isn't blowing his phone up rn] Ava: [in full show-off-to-all-my-friends mode still, somehow still has some lol] James: [lord when you don't even like and comment on pics of your own child anymore though bye do not approve of your aesthetic choices Chlo] Ava: [so awkward, when you only get a look in for the boring/hard bits] James: [basically just get to parent Jay cos she's well over that] Ava: [poor James tbh] James: [have your fun now lad I don't blame you even though everyone else will] Ava: [lord people gonna be SO mad] James: [how far we gonna take this during the tour cos obvs flirty vibes been flying about but like he can't just jump her cos married and she's younger] Ava: [she fully initiated this whole thing lbr but maybe don't sleep with him yet babe as you are aware he's married and has kids so like, some thought even though you young and reckless that, he could always stop it at a makeout 'cos then how embarrassing for her and she'd have to leave it for a bit like what was I doing, angst etc] James: [I vibe with that cos they are gonna be drinking a lot as the night goes on so that'd make both of them give less of a shit about the consequences but because the night is going on eventually chlo is gonna be like are you coming home ever because I like to think he hasn't cheated since she got pregnant with this kid and has actually been trying even though he's miserable af clearly] James: [like maybe it was really bad before and he was actually gonna leave her so she was like simply must trap him and did] Ava: [v much a her move I support it] James: [yeah cos she's invested this much time into him she's not just gonna let him go easily] Ava: [when you have no idea what you've signed yourself up for here babe] James: [I'm rooting for them rn cos nobody else is and I'm 100% that bitch, must not get invested yet when we've only just begun] Ava: [same tho so whoops] James: [he'd be so into it though too we all know that makeout would be 💣🔥] Ava: [hence breaking it off would be hard af, Chloe gotta be blowing his shit up to the degree he thinks maybe one of the kids is hurt lol] James: [literally Chloe is the teenage girl in this situation, girl chill out] Ava: [I'd feel bad if you hadn't also cheated loads and trapped him in this sham life soooo, grant you idk how much Ava knows of that rn but she'd clearly have a rep] James: [yeah I feel like Ava would be knowing some shit cos same circles and Chlo ain't slick plus like he's gonna eventually tell her cos god knows he needs someone to talk to] Ava: [we will get there boy] James: [at least it'll be less awks for her cos it'll be obvious that he didn't wanna break shit off and how hard it was to do] Ava: [there was obvs a vibe to pursue in the first place, still tomorrow morning lmao] James: [he'd so go too hard pretending she doesn't exist like nobody's picked up on the vibe and it ain't obvious okay boy] Ava: [I hope there's some other drama gone down on this little excursion so yous can fly under the radar, someone hold hands at the cinema lol] James: [shit like that always happens don't worry you two] Ava: [thank God for teenage shenanigans when you out here homewrecking on the low] James: [you should do some Chlo texts at me for the lols even if I don't reply cos busy lol]

[sticksstonesandstars]

[just putting this out here]

I am now a second year college student, I cannot believe it. And actually I am half-done with my first sem in my 2nd year but still, I cannot believe how time flied so fast. It sounds too old-ish to say but it feels like I'm still in highschool just yesterday. I am still stuck in 2019 and yet we're about to end 2021 in a few weeks time. I was genuinely happy then afterall, how could I let go of those times.

So today I will admit I am not okay. I have always pretended that I was handling things just fine or even better but for once, let me outrightly say I am not okay. I have felt better and I know that. I have been happier and the current me is not in that state. So let me name my current state for once to simply concretize what I feel and how I am sailing through these difficult times: I am not okay. I am just hanging on the edge, my motivation is so close to running out which might just cause dysfunction.

I have the feeling that I put so much pressure on myself to the point that I don't give myself enough credit for being brave enough to even get out of bed in the morning (or afternoon ;) and eat. I don't let myself cry over anything anymore and it gets tiring. It gets tiring not being able to express myself more openly. It gets tiring not to be able to cry more openly. I can't even cry myself to sleep because I sleep with my sisters, I don't want to make any noise and wake them up. I can't even make at least one drop of tear come roll down my cheeks. I must have put up too firmly on everything that I don't know how to cry anymore. I have become too tolerant of everything; I just let them happen and go with the flow. But who am I kidding, I badly want to cry.

I badly want to cry because reading, which was my passion during my highschool years, has now just become something I must do, not something I want to do. I have to handle a lot of readings and when I want to read for my own pleasure, I lose energy and motivation because I am too tired. My eyes are too tired, and my brain feels too occupied already to even read even non-academic readings. My habit of reading for enjoyment was taken away from me by the fact that it has already become a requirement. Before, it makes me excited to open up a book or a newspaper and start reading. Now, even printing and looking at the amount of what I need to read is already demotivating. I have become tired of what I used to like, what I used to enjoy.

Then there's more. Writing, which have become my very passion and source of self-confidence before, has now become a nightmare. It's now tough to come up with anything, especially with the thought that I have to come up with something that meets the criteria set by my audience i.e. my professor. How did this happen? I love writing too but at the same time, I have grown tired of it. I always have a writer's block and my creative juices are at their limit. Before, I would even write poems, prose, essays, and more just for the sake of writing and expressing what I feel. But now, I am required to do it. A hobby and passion is slowly getting taken away from me by my very dreams. Of course I badly want to cry.

This is a dream -studying what I want. But I realized that part of that dream could be what I am feeling too -exhaustion of dreaming. I am admitting that I am not okay and that is mostly because I am tired. I am not enjoying the things I used to enjoy. I feel demotivated doing anything. I am always stuck in bed thinking if I am still in the path I want to take. I always have to doubt whether I am doing the right thing. But of course, I don't know the answer to these. I badly want to cry because there's too many things I don't know and not knowing feels too much of a burden for an overthinker and an overachiever like me.

I am now a second year college student and yes, I cannot believe that 2019 is almost 3 years ago already. I badly want to cry because of this. I feel like too much time was wasted with me staying and being stuck at home because of the pandemic. And at the same time, I know I am not okay. Both reading and writing which I love has grown on me and made me exhausted and demotivated. Almost three years passed and this is what happened. The going got tough and tougher, and for sure it does not end here. The toughest going is yet to come. And for that, I badly want to cry again and again and again. But my eyes won't allow even one drop of tear. And it's late, I can't cry myself to sleep or else I will just make noise and might wake up my sisters.

[mrsavis-blog]

I’ve been oversleeping

Like a lot over this past week... Thank Goddess my mom decided to watch over my lil’ one... Today has been a total drrraaaggg... All I want, need, should do is clean & organize my home, and get my sh!t together for this month. But I’ve been dealing with pure exhaustion ...d@mn near lethargicness all day.. On top of that an intermittent headache that no matter what I throw at it...continues to be persistent & f#cking annoying.

*DEEP SIGH*  “UUUgghhh...”, today has been totally mentally exhausting as well... I mean my brain is shut down to saying sentences that involve ..” Like, and .. I mean,... I know right”. Blah blah blah, blahdy blah... lol this is most definitely a meaningless entry. 

I always have soo many thoughts and think to myself, this would be great to work out on my blog... But then by the time I log on ...boom! It all fades away. Or I overthink things, and start to worry about who might find my blog and what would they think of me? Could anything I put in here end up being used against me in my future? I’m just trying to get some mental peace; by cleansing out my thoughts and the crazy bullshit that gets traps in my brain. But I have this issue with anxiety and overthinking and depression and blah blah blah....

It has unpredictably made it harder for me to truly be free on my own got d@mn blog the way I wanted to be. OKay whatever.. *Clicks on the random switch*

Damn, I’ve been on a deep f#cking dive of binge-watching for the past two yrs...  All I can say is I’m either one of the most critical cynical ppl I know (which I f#cking know isn’t true) or there’s a lot of b#llsh!t out here these days. Almost NOTHING lives up to its hype, or even the mildly small measurement of hope to be entertained that I have for anything anymore.

I rather enjoy a good reality-tv show nowadays. Before UGH omg you couldn’t catch me even pretending to watch that sh!t. But hear me out, I can turn my brain off when I watch that mess, I always know what to expect, and I’m usually not disappointed. Euphoria (the TV show on HBO) talks about this pretty well. I don’t have to put any effort into watching the programs. 

Which is completely depressing in soo many ways. 1. Reality-tv is what I turn to when I’m bored & or depressed and even stressed. So that’s a bad sign on its own. 2. All the money & talent that goes into scripted programs I highly cherish because I’m a thespian, it was one of my 1st true loves. 3. I’ve actually been waning & waxing with depression for a while now.. (another shout out to Euphoria! I didn't say I hate all shows *Kanye shrug*) .... So what I’m trying to get at is.. 

I don’t want to use my brain sometimes, I want to do the opposite and drown out everything and just feel pure emptiness mixed w/ small bits of guilty pleasure. Thus yes reality-tv the point is not about being “good” or evening being “real”.. It’s about getting straight unadulterated easy access to those juicy mentally stimulating molecules. That ecstasy cocktail of hormones telling your brain that you are relaxed, you have no worries right now, you are happy, and entertained. 

Mix that sh!t with depression and there’s no wonder that the mass population is addicted to binge-watching series that we can now access instantly. Especially reality-tv.

Of course, the only thing that beats that category of television programs is literally everything else ...BUT ONLY when it meets minimum criteria... This brings me back to my 1st point... I have hard requirements for my entertainment to meet just to be deemed enjoyable. It’s not that I’m stuck up or in any way think  I’m superior... I don't say these things to be cute or deep. I was just born this way. 

I need my programs to not be full of cliches, there needs to be more originality to them than anything else... I know that’s easier said than done.. But just barely. There should also be enough realism to it even if its sci-fi, I hate when I have to ask many questions to make sense of some sh!t. Not in the way that I didn’t understand or can’t keep up, but in the sense that someone made an oversight on this shit.  Which usually comes with another move I hate, POOR to sh!t editing.. We’ve all witnessed it, when a movie or show does something that f#cked up the flow. Or stupid graphics badly used or placed... *roll my eyes*

Let’s just say I’ve said all of this to point out that I watch a lot of movies, YouTubers, and tv programs. Enough to predict the majority, out of everything that is going to happen, and too much to easily be truly entertained. 

Oh sh!t .. *punches the sky repeatedly...mentally that is* My best love just gave me a $20 to treat myself to one the best f#cking meals I’ve discovered thus far this yr. A Cali club from Tropical Cafe w/ a bag of healthy chips (probably plain... I’ve been going on a very plain bender lately.. talking coffee no creamer nor sugar, tea no honey or sugar, cereal no mmmiillkkk..) and one of their Bomb-f#ck-your-taste-buds-into-orgasm-submission fresh smoothies =P   ... I say that earns them some extra love (not that it's for sale but to show appreciation & gratitude), and its going to cut this entry here.

MORAL OF THE SESS: “ Sh!t changes and some things stay the same, and then sometimes you just outgrow sh!t. Don’t waste your time on sh!t that bores you without a bigger purpose”