#the implication of March lasting a whole year just

[mins-fins]

remember summer days !

"i love summer because i love you.."

synopsis: forever going beaches, aggressive seagulls, brain freezing ice cream, many many shots, summer vacation is simply two months where you can be as reckless as possible without scathing schoolwork and the crushing feeling of student loans on your back, your two months to be an idiot without the worry of missing your morning classes due to hangovers, but there's something different about this summer. why didn't anyone tell mark that he could've possibly fallen in love with his best friend over the course of two months? who knew that you were really the one the whole time?

pairing: mark lee x male!reader

genre: university au, summer romance, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, light angst, humor(?), mutual pining, kinda sort of kinda suggestive, mainly mark pov

warnings: swearing, explicit language, sexual jokes, implications of sex but no smut, mentions of sexual harassment, smoking & alcohol consumption, complicated feelings, pathetic best friends are in love with each other but are dumb and don't realize until 15 years too late

word count: 15.9k

notes: the way i convinced myself i was never going to finish this and itd just become send in the clowns pt.2 😭 after the trials and tribulations of life, and hospital visit after hospital visit, i have finally posted something above 10k words!! applause!! (crickets) this has been in the drafts for FOUR MONTHS.. since march 10th ive been pressuring myself to finish, i literally finished endless nameless before this.. what kind of work ethic is that? also this was supposed to be sooooo much sadder and the og ending was supposed to bring tears BUT i am a saint and decided to not put you guys through torture bc most of my mark works are angsty anyway and because user junjiie would block me if i ever put him through another mark angst fest again 😁 speaking of user junjiie, thank you for listening to everything that i spout in your inbox.. your the best 🫶 and if youve ever wanted to kiss mark, your in the right place 👍

THE RUSHING OF THE OCEAN BEFORE him is all that's present in marks ears. the sand in his shoes don't register in his mind, nor do the seagulls eating bread right in front of him, just the ocean. the ocean is beautiful, a serene endless reservoir, one mark wishes he could just jump into and never leave. he can't focus on anything else around him, not the upcoming sunset, not the squawking birds, not the people muttering about the eventide, not even how beautiful his surroundings are, the ocean is his main center of attention, and mark spends so much time admiring it. the ocean is beautiful, it's monumental, mark can't exactly put it into more words, he might run out almost immediately. in moments like these, it doesn't matter the words he uses, it's just being immersed in the scenery that matters.

"hello? earth to lee minhyung!"

mark flinches, but his shoulders quickly relax when he sees who the yeller was. it's just you. annoying, absentminded, angel faced you, a small smile makes itself present on your features as you finally catch the formerly spaced out male's attention.

"thank god, for a moment there i thought you were gone".

mark doesn't find himself snickering at your words, he instead gives you that 'really?' stare, it's not that your joke wasn't funny, he just doesn't have the energy to laugh. "why are you even yelling? were on a public beach, idiot".

mark mutters the last word, but he knows you heard it anyway because you put your arm around him and pinch him in his shoulder as payback. he winces at the pain, you and your unusually strong fingers, you just smile in victory.

oh you, always so eager for revenge.

"you were staring at the ocean like it was your one true love, what? were you imagining hyuck or something?"

mark doesn't even know when the two of you began walking, but he isn't exactly focused on that, or your teasing words which hint at something that is completely false, he's more focused on how breathtaking you are.

mark would never say it's..anything not platonic. sometimes, though, he can't help but focus on just how amazing your features compliment you. you always look beautiful like this, in lightings like this is what he means.

mark isn't an idiot, he can acknowledge how attractive you are, even if you always tease him whenever he compliments you.

"i was just admiring it, why does there always have to be something more with you?" his quick rebuttal doesn't make it past you so easily, but you decide to go easy on mark, you can't just tease him the whole time, or you'll just start going back and forth.

"because, you're always so extra, there's no reason you should be staring at the ocean like you want to kiss it or something".

mark rolls his eyes, you're so stupid, you always have something to say, your mind must be so full of things, considering you constantly have a reply for mark locked and loaded, ready to go. "you can't even try to go easy on me?"

"nope, you know me, annoying you is the best part of my day!"

mark does know, it's like you've made it your life mission to never let him live anything down the moment you two met at a random park in vancouver when you were just little kids trying to figure out how to navigate the world. whether it was you following mark home, teasing him after beating him at basketball, or you were making fun of the way he styled his hair that day, you've never allowed mark lee to exist peacefully since you two decided to cross paths.

even as adults, adults who are studying to get bachelor's degrees, who pay their own bills, who can now legally drink, and who don't need parental consent to do anything anymore, you'll still never let mark live anything down.

it's fun to annoy you! you always tell mark, a tormenting on your face as giggles escaped your lips.

"i wish i didn't know you".

you manage a gasp of fake offense, placing a hand on your chest in pure shock. mark seems pleased, he shakes out of your hold and begins walking forward, leaving you and your dramatics behind.

you snicker, raising an eyebrow. you quickly catch up to him, hands shoved into your pockets as you give your best friend that familiar taunting smile, the one you know that he can't stand. "you're so mean to me, minhyung".

mark just scoffs, trying his best to ignore you. you don't take that, though, instead walking right up to him and lacing your fingers together. "don't ignore me".

please, mark wishes he could.

"you're annoying".

that familiar taunting smile comes to your lips, a soar of victory in your chest. "i know" you reply simply, squeezing his hand. "now do you wanna watch the sunset or what?"

it's only now that the realization dawns on mark, the sunset, how could he even forget?

to be fair, it's hard to focus on the sunset when your gorgeous best friend is holding your hand staring at your lips—

"you dummy" you say almost immediately. "you were the one who kept pestering me about the sunset and you forgot?"

"i was focused on other things.."

"let me guess" you pretend to think, fingers still intertwined with marks as you pull him and the two of you begin walking back towards the beach you'd walked away from. "you were too focused on my alluring beauty?"

mark shoves you with his shoulder. "you wish".

"i don't have to wish, you think i'm the prettiest boy in the world".

you do have a knack for the dramatics. mark doesn't know how many more eye rolls he can do before you realize he isn't exactly lying about finding you attractive, he just would never admit it to your face, one: because he doesn't want to stroke your ego, and two: he truly doesn't have the balls to.

"please, get over yourself".

"it's not my fault you want to kiss me so bad, you have the perfect opportunity to anywa—"

mark immediately shoves your face away when you pucker your lips and try to lean closer. "ew no, you probably taste like cigarettes".

mark finally snakes out of your hold, walking ahead of you and back towards the beach. his face is red, only heating up more as he hears your tormenting giggles.

how do you even have an affect like this on him? he'll never know, but he'll continue standing his ground.

mark lee will never admit to your face that he's attracted to you, or that he wants to kiss you, or that you're probably the prettiest boy he's ever met.

mark lee doesn't have the confidence to admit any of that to your face.

MARK ALWAYS MAKES THE MISTAKE OF UNDERESTIMATING your alcohol tolerance. back to back drinks seem to be your thing, and he has no idea how you can even do that without even feeling like you're going to throw up. mark feels nauseous just watching the whole thing go down, but he's gotten used to the unpredictability of your character, so the idea of you being this "crazy drinker" isn't exactly a far fetched kind of claim, you don't even get offended when people say it anymore. you seem to enjoy fully embracing the insults you get from people, it's kind of admirable.. in a sense? mark doesn't know how to explain it, because it sounds stupid when put into words.

"sir can i have one mor—"

"oh no! no no no! no more drinks for you" mark immediately cuts you off, putting his arm around your shoulder to support you. he smiles politely at the man behind the counter, and he helps you stand up, ignoring your disagreeing whines. "my apologies, we'll be heading out now".

"mark!" you whine, stretching the letters of his name whilst letting your body fall against his. "you can't do this to me, i wasn't done yet" your drunken complaints fall deaf on mark's ears, and he pulls you back up once again, your arm coming up to wrap around his waist. he's basically supporting your whole body, as you can barely even walk yourself.

"it's two in the morning, y/n" mark states, but you don't really care, you just pout. "you can't afford to drink anymore, you're going to die if you keep drinking like this".

"if i die at least i'll die beautiful".

your words slur together in an idiotic way, and you laugh like you're the most hilarious person in the world. you lean against mark, letting him carry you through the streets of jeju, closing your eyes. "yeah well, if you think i'm letting you intoxicate yourself to the point of blacking out, you're out of your mind".

"because you are so in love with me?"

"no, because you're my best friend".

and maybe i am just a little in love with you, but that isn't important right now.

"sure, keep telling yourself that mark lee".

mark hates when you get drunk like this, because it's like the moment the alcohol sinks into your system, you become a mind reader. you can always seem to tell what's going on with mark when your drunk out of your mind, like you just reach into his brain and pull out his biggest secrets.

he never knows how you do it, or how you just magically forget everything you say when your sober (he's actually grateful you do, because the kind of stuff you say when your drunk should stay like that, drunk remarks).

"i can walk on my own, you know.." you mutter, clearly very out of it. the words only make mark's arm tighten around you, he cannot afford to let you go, because you're going to collapse onto the street and never be able to pick yourself up. he doesn't care about your complaints, your whining, or how you're trying to separate yourself from him, he only has one goal, to make sure you get back to the house, and get to bed. "you don't need to carry me".

"your legs are practically useless right now, y/n, don't argue with me" mark somehow manages to hold you up with one arm as he rummages through his pocket, looking for the keys to the house. you clearly want to argue with him, but you can't, instead slumping to the side and pouting.

finally, mark finds the keys to the house and unlocks the door, hoisting you up and helping you step in. "you're like my prince charming, you know that markie?"

you sound like your going insane, you always get like this when your drunk. mark thinks he doesn't mind that much, your extra hilarious when drunk, even with how annoying you are when your wasted (not like you aren't also annoying when sober).

"that's nice, y/n" you whine once again when mark lets go of you, but you let yourself fall back onto the couch, curling onto it and wrapping your arms around your own waist, suddenly chilly.

"are you cold?"

there's a certain tone of disbelief in mark's voice, and you guess he has a point. it's mid-july, the two of you are on an island, and all temperatures are high right now, how could you even be cold?

"just kinda chilly.."

"in the middle of july?" mark questions, focused on his mission of searching for cups in the kitchen cupboards. he needs to help you sober up, or maybe he'll just let you go to sleep like this (actually he can't, you'd complain all morning if you woke up with such a hangover).

"i can't control the random chills i get, mark" you seem to enjoy whining about stupid things. you tighten your own hold around your waist, as if trying to heat up your own body yourself. "it's like elsa's living here or something".

"okay you big baby" mark responds, walking up to you and handing a glass of water. you stare at the cup for a good minute or so before finally taking it, though you can't exactly stomach water at the moment, you appreciate how much mark is doing for you. "get better and go to sleep".

you still feel just a little nauseous, and you realize back to back drinks for hours probably wasn't the best idea. you cover your face with your hands, yet another complaining whine escaping your lips. "it's not as easy as it sounds, minhyung".

"you could at least drink the water, appreciate my efforts".

"i do appreciate your efforts, i just feel like i'm about to throw up".

"that's what you get for doing all of that drinking".

you have no more energy to argue with your best friend, instead turning over and making yourself comfortable on the couch, your head placed on his lap. "yeah yeah, whatever smartass, now let me sleep.."

mark chuckles. "you don't want to go to your room?"

"no, your my pillow now, you legally have to stay here".

mark raises an eyebrow, amused by your sudden change of heart. "legally?"

"yes legally, now be quiet and let me sleep".

mark shuts his mouth, not only because he doesn't want to argue with you, but because you did really need this sleep.

he doesn't mind this, he decides.

"WHAT ARE YOU WATCHING?" MARK LOOKS UP UPON hearing your inquiry, his eyes finally moving away from his computer and focusing on you. your hair is messy, he assumes from the roughness you used when drying it, and your clothes look comfy. it's that pajama set yuta got you for your birthday that you swore you hated and would never wear ever. he laughs in his head at the fact, but then he focuses back on you, realizing he indeed does have a question to answer. "grey's anatomy" he answers just as unnaturally as he thought he would, he internally cringes at the fact. you raise an eyebrow, clearly questioning the show choice, but you make your way over to him anyway, the closer you get, the better mark can see you, your features practically glow in the dimly lit room.

"grey's anatomy? i didn't even know you liked that show.." you make space for yourself beside mark and prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes narrowing at his laptop screen. mark just lets you, it's been a long day, despite it being summer, mark still has so much to do, he never truly gets breaks.

"i don't really like it, it's kinda just a guilty pleasure" he replies, gesturing towards his computer. "cristina's the best character.."

"your just saying that because she's the only characters name you remember".

mark snorts, lightly nudging you. "are you really going to stay here with me?"

you give him a dumbfounded look, as if that was possibly the dumbest question he could've asked ever. "why would i not? would you prefer for me to ignore you while we're on vacation together? i wanna spend time with my best friend.."

mark hums, clasping his hands together. your words have an unchecked effect on him, a small red hue spreading across his cheeks. the words are so simple, so they shouldn't be having him react like this, he feels like he's going insane.

why do you make him feel like this?

mark never gets it with you.

you're just his best friend, you two have been together since you were six, it's crazy how even through all the crazy stuff that's happened in your lives, the two of you have somehow managed to survive, even with all odds stacked against you.

mark has to admit, you two aren't the most.. normal of a pair? there are times the two of you didn't talk for months, times where you couldn't even stand each other, but then are also times like this, times where you two are just regular best friends who do regular best friend things.

best friends hold hands.

best friends match jewelry.

best friends occasionally share a bed and wrap themselves in each other's arm whilst sleeping.

and best friends look at each other with the same kind of love admiration mark looks at you with.

when have you ever been anything more than friends? there has never been a romantic element there as far as mark knows. yeah you always make stupid jokes about the two of you being a couple, but you've never said anything which could imply that, and even if you are in love with him, you've never tried to act on those desires, not physically at least.

mark's never seen the way the two of you act to be weird, he could never get why other people always looked at you weird, like they knew something the two of you didn't.

and it's even weirder because your guys' other friends do the same thing, the shifty glances, the unnecessary eyebrow raising, and the stupid giggles.

mark remembers this one time jungwoo said this thing, and it's stuck with him ever since.

"what's with you and y/n?"

the question came out of nowhere, mark had been focused on some writing assignment he'd left to the last minute, sitting at the kitchen counter as he tried to figure out what huge words he could use to make himself sound sophisticated. "what do you mean?"

"you and y/n, you guys are weird, i can't tell if you're trying to look your dating or are actually a couple".

the statement came off as shocking to mark, why would he even begin to think that? when have you two ever come off as a couple? he has no idea..

"you're ridiculous, y/n and i aren't trying to look like we're dating".

mark said those words with confidence, but he doesn't even know if he's genuinely sure about that.

"yeah, sure" jungwoo scoffed, he has no faith in mark at all. "maybe you think you aren't, but he's surely trying to, he's literally so in love with you it's insane".

mark paused, thinking about it. maybe he just doesn't pay much attention to it, or maybe jungwoo was just making stuff up, he does really enjoy lying. "you might be crazy".

"i'm not! excuse my language, mark, but it is so obvious that y/n likes you, he wants to fuck you so bad it's disgusting!"

marks eyebrows furrowed, and he gave jungwoo that familiar 'are you serious?' look.

"y/n wants to fuck me?"

"oh he definitely does! he isn't even trying to hide it".

mark thinks all of your guys' friends must be crazy, experiencing a shared hysteria or something. you two don't act weird, your just how you always are.

"so?"

mark remembers this other thing as well, it was about a month before school ended, and he was sat on johnny's living room floor, flipping through the boring tv channels, trying to find anything interesting to watch. "so what?"

"what are you doing this summer?" the older asked, there was a clear annoyance in his voice, mark guesses it's because he had to ask the question like seven times. "any good plans?"

mark's fingers continued to click the remote, he doesn't remember what channel he was looking for, but he remembers shrugging in response to johnny's question. "not sure yet, y/n said he wanted the two of us to go somewhere together, but he hasn't really gotten back to me on that".

at the mere mention of you, a small laugh sounded from johnny, and mark noticed it enough that he paused his channel flipping. "y/n?"

"yes y/n, as in my best friend y/n, whose also your friend?"

"jesus that guys like, obsessed with you".

the words caused for mark to respond with his signature weird glance, he looked at johnny as if the older had just placed a curse on his entire family. "where is this coming from?"

"i just have eyes, mark, are you two really best friends? or have you just not discovered how you actually feel for each other?"

that was so strange.

mark immediately wanted to deny all of it, his eyes moved away from johnny and back to the tv, but he wasn't really focused on the tv, trying to find a response to the words that struck him like a punch to the gut. "i have no idea what your talking about".

"well i'm just saying what everyone else is saying".

and yeah, maybe mark's an idiot for not taking any of those words into account, but he doesn't really have to! if you were so in love with him like everyone assumed, you'd tell him, right? you two always tell each other what's going on in your lives, and that's to like, a concerning rate.

if you were in love with mark, you'd tell him, because what use is there in keeping such a big secret?

there's a lot of them, actually, mark, but you know y/n would never do that to you, he'd never.

MARK IS SLEEPLESS, LIKE— VERY. for the past few hours, all he's done is toss and turn in the same direction for who knows how long. his blanket is on the floor, but he doesn't exactly remember putting it there. he probably threw it off his bed during one of his many tossing fits a good couple hours ago. he groans, just accepting that he's not getting any sleep tonight. after hours of refusing to leave his bed, mark stretches his limbs, finally sitting up and swinging out of his bed since he got into it like four hours ago. no one whose on vacation sleeps early, but mark had assumed the exhaustion in his body would aid in helping him doze off, but his body is a weird one, so he hurriedly makes his way out of his room, suddenly craving water.

mark regrets choosing the room with the huge window right in front of the beach, yeah it's nice and everything but in the middle of the night, waking up the sound of the rushing ocean is just the slightest bit anxiety inducing, especially when he's in the middle of some horrible nightmare.

mark's feet take him directly where he wants to go, the kitchen, he needs a glass of water, maybe two, maybe three, heck— maybe seven. he doesn't think much about not seeing you, he just assumes you had better luck than him in the sleep department.

he only gets distracted on his walk when he hears a small sound, the sound of something hitting against the wall. he pauses in his steps, listening in to see if what he was hearing was actually real. it's silent for a few seconds, but then mark hears it again, the sound of something slamming against the wall.

it's coming from your room.

mark furrows his eyebrows, puzzled. now totally unfocused on his current goal, mark turns around and heads in the direction of your room, anxieties amping up as his mind begins thinking of horrible things.

god please don't be hurt please don't be hurt please please please please—

when mark peaks his head through your door, he's met with a strange sight. a clearly asleep you, muttering nonsense to yourself as you continuously weak into your dresser, bumping against it, then causing for it to bump against the wall. oh, mark gets it, your sleepwalking.

he sighs in relief, at least you aren't injured or something. he steps into the room, making his way towards you, he makes sure that he doesn't make too much noise walking, he doesn't want you to have some visceral reaction.

he gently taps your shoulder. "y/n".

no answer, you just walk into your dresser again.

"y/n" mark calls out again, but you don't answer him, just continue muttering to yourself as you walk into your dresser again, bumping roughly against it, causing for mark to wince, as if he was the one to collide with the dresser. he places both hands on your shoulder, turning you around to face him.

"y/n".

that seems to do the trick, because you startle out of your state, a gasp accompanying your actions. your startled state startles mark as well, whose hands quickly remove themselves from your shoulders. "okay okay, calm down, it's just me" his voice does calm you down, nothing else can be heard in the room besides the breathing of you two and the faint running of the ocean outside.

"oh, holy shit, what did i— what was that?"

mark has been through this with you many times before, he knows how to deal with stuff like this, he's gotten very in tune with your habits. "you were sleepwalking, y/n" he replies, and a look of disappointment settles on your face.

"again? ugh i thought i got rid of that stupid habit" you cover your face with your hands, stressed. "i didn't do anything crazy right? like.. turn on the oven? start the car? unlock the door?"

"no no, none of that" mark is weirded out. seeing the usually energetic, playful, joking you be so stressed, your voice so low compared to your usual shouting. he worries about you, a lot, so he puts his hand on your shoulder again. "seriously it's fine, you were just walking into your dresser and mumbling some unintelligible shit, that's all".

you don't seem to enjoy the sound of that, seeing as how you freeze at the words, only frowning once again. mark, like always, notices your change in behavior, and he instinctively carts his hand through your hair. he originally doesn't know why he does it, but you don't seem to mind, you settle into the touch even, comforted by it.

"do you?.. maybe we should go on a walk on the beach? just to clear your mind, you know.."

he continues to run his hand through your hair. mark loves your hair, it's pretty, soft, and you never really dye it, so it always looks as good as new. you consider his words, taking in a breath. "no i just— i just need water".

water, that's all you need.

mark can do that, it's not like your asking him to bring the stars to you (but mark would, he would go thousands of miles, travel galaxies to make sure you were happy), you just want water. mark stops his hair caressing, his hand moving down to yours, where he intertwines your fingers. you give a small smile as he does so, but mark doesn't see it, he's much too focused on making sure you get your water.

you stay silent, which is so strange to mark. you talk a lot, you love talking, talking mark's ear off is on the list of things you have to do during your day. "just water? that's it".

you frown when mark lets go of your hand, missing the small act of affection. "yeah" you whisper. "just water".

mark gets you exactly that, water, and the two of you sit in a comfortable silence at the kitchen counter. none of you talking. the sound of the ocean waves crashing against each other meet both your ears, but none of you say anything, just sit there with a now empty cup between you two.

"everything good now?" mark asks, he just needs to make sure, seeing you like this is so unfamiliar, it makes him overly anxious.

"yeah yeah everything is fine".

"you sure?" mark needs extra confirmation, extra reassurance from you that you're okay, he wants for you to talk to him, tell him what's going on with you, because mark is your best friend, and he has to help you with these things. "you can tell me anything, you know".

"mark" you say softly, and mark doesn't know why, but his stomach flips. the way you say his name suddenly makes his cheeks go red, eyes widen, and lips part lightly. you shouldn't be affecting him like this, but you do, because it's you, you always do this to him. "yes i'm sure, if something was going on with me, i'd tell you".

of course, because the two of are best friends, you would never hide something serious from him, you know he can always help you, he will always help you.

"alright, i'm holding you to that".

you hum at his words, picking at your nails. "you better".

"THAT GUY IS CUTE" THE WORDS MAKE MARK'S HEAD shoot up, and the moment he glances at you, that uncomfortable feeling comes to his stomach. you aren't looking at him, making mark assume that you weren't saying the words to him, but to yourself. like you meant to say them in your head but ended up muttering them out loud. mark's eyebrows immediately furrow, trying to figure out what guy you're talking about. when he looks in the direction you're looking, he notices the guy your referring to. he narrows his eyes at his figure, and while he can agree, the guy is what he would consider conventionally attractive, he has no idea why you're calling him cute in the first place. "which guy?"

you deadpan at him, lightly smacking his arm. "the guy right there mark, the one wearing the white stripes shirt".

mark blinks, rubbing the place in his arm where you hit him. he doesn't know why he feels so weird, this has never happened to him before, you talk about cute guys all the time, this shouldn't be shocking to him at all.

but for some reason, the guy is really starting to piss him off, just even staring at him is irritating mark. the guy isn't that hot, he isn't even that attractive, his hair is messy, mark thinks that's gross.

"yeah yeah, he looks okay".

"okay?" you stare at mark like he just personally offended you with that statement, and you get furrowed eyebrows as a response. "he's gorgeous! a ten out of ten guy!"

"i mean— i guess he's kinda hot?" mark says those words in that questioning tone he always uses when you show him guys you might be into, he never gets your taste in men, because they're all either crazy, or they all look they just crawled out of a ditch. call him shallow or whatever, but he can't tell why a guy like you likes guys like that, you deserve someone more.. fitting.

someone like him preferably.

when his mind whispers the thought to him, mark struggles to jump from his chair. now why would he even think that? why couldn't he suppress that thought? why does he think he could be the perfect fit for you? it's not like he likes you or anything, so why did he even conjure up that thought?

"you have a horrible taste in men" you respond, but you don't even try to look at mark (which upsets him much more than he wants to admit), your attention is focused on the quote unquote, cute guy across from you, who seems to catch your eye, because you loudly gasp, hitting mark in the arm again. "did you see that!? he looked at me!"

no mark did not see that, he was much too focused on trying to calm down his flipping stomach. he hates that he feels like this, it's always with you isn't it? you don't pick up on how uncomfortable he is, though, because you're too busy freaking out over a "cute" boy glancing over at you.

"so what? you're overreacting".

mark realizes how harsh his words must've been when he sees your face fall immediately at his irritated tone. you finally look over at him, eyebrows furrowed together, and mark feels like he just committed the worst of crimes. there's an awkward silence that spreads between you two for a moment, but if you were upset, which you clearly looked like you were, you didn't say anything, you just shook your head and let out a snicker. "okay, fuck you, i'm freaking out because a cute guy just looked at me and—"

"that same cute guy whose checking you out?"

"HES WHAT!?"

your screech is enough to make mark almost fall out of his seat, he says those words with distaste, but you don't catch his tone, fortunate for him. you begin slapping his arm like crazy, excited out of your mind over this random guy staring at you. the idea annoys mark much more than it should, because why are you focusing on him so much? he isn't even that good looking, he hates it.

"oh my god! oh my god, mark! can you believe this? i might actually have some potential for an important romantic connection this summer!"

mark raises an eyebrow at the comment. "is that all you cared about when deciding to come on vacation with me?"

you look oddly offended at the inquiry, clearly weirded out by mark's sudden change in attitude. you tilt your head, mind immediately swaying away from the guy you'd been rambling about. "no! hey what's with you?"

oh no.

"what do you mean? i'm fine".

"no, you're using that tone with me".

mark curses you for knowing him so well, he knows exactly what you're talking about, his certain tone of irritation is one you'd grown accustomed to when you were children, as mark would use it all the time when he got especially annoyed by your antics. still, he gives a chuckle of disbelief. "what is that tone?"

you pause for a moment, thinking about your words, but then you straighten in your seat, lightly scoffing. "that tone of irritation you use when your annoyed by me, what? you hate your not the only guy who has my attention?"

mark prepares another snappy response to that, but he can't do that because you lean closer as you say those words, a smug grin playing on your lips as you do so. mark allows for himself to get engrossed in the sight of you close up. he then narrows his eyes, trying his best to act like he's unaffected by your stare. "no, oh my god get over yourself!"

mark is quick to push you away, stubbornly crossing his arms as he hopes you don't notice how pathetic those words sounded. you snicker, clearly feeling victorious as you were able to get a shout out of him. mark would punch you if he wasn't so distracted by your pretty laughter.

"uh huh, sure, you dream of me".

"you're so annoying, if you think the guy's so cute just go talk to him".

mark regrets saying that.

why did i say that? why the fuck did i say that? 

he doesn't want you to go talk to him, why would he even bring that up? he sees the expression on your face change, and mark immediately knows he messed up because you seem to be very on board with that idea. you look back over at the guy you'd been staring at prior, a smile coming to your face as you catch him looking back at you, watching the whole thing transpire just makes mark stomach flip uncomfortably.

"fine then, you told me to do it myself".

mark wishes he hadn't.

"good luck" he croaks out, trying his best to steady his voice as you blatantly ignore him to continue staring at the guy you're seemingly so infatuated with.

mark wants to throw up.

MARK TRULY UNDERESTIMATES HOW MUCH CAN happen in a week. life has always surprised him, strange things constantly transpire that he can't exactly explain no matter how much he tries. he also made the mistake of underestimating just how much you were into this "cute guy" (mark learned his name is kunwoo, a name he feels uneasy about), because after he stupidly told you to go over and talk to the guy you had been making eyes at, you two hit it off, a fact that made mark want to claw his own eyes out, to his very own confusion. he can't figure out why he's feeling so.. weird? it's not like he hasn't watched you hit it off with several guys during previous summer outings, or just in general, so why is it different now? it shouldn't be different now, nothing should be different.

but it is different now, for some unknown reason that mark can't think of no matter how much he tries to conjure it up in his mind, he doesn't like the guy you've now found yourself parading around. even with how into him you seem, mark can't help but gives his best tight lipped smile every time you bring him up.

mark won't tell you anything, he doesn't want to upset you, you genuinely seem so happy talking to him, who is he to tell you to not like a guy that he feels weird about? you're an adult, you can make your own decisions, he can't make you do anything you don't want to.

so what if mark has bad vibes about this guy your into? he's not going to tell you that or anything. he knows better than to spoil your fun, you deserve to have fun after your train wreck of a school year.

he doesn't want to be a bad friend.

"y/n? where are we going exactly?"

the minute the clock struck 12 (in the afternoon, mark has to clarify), you told him to get up because you were going to take him out. "out, mark, i told you this thousands of times already".

mark's eyebrows furrow, he has no idea why you would just drag him out of the beach house for no apparent reason. hand intertwined with his, merely muttering something about going out.

"so abruptly?" he inquires, your hand squeezing against his, lurching him closer towards you with a small tug.

"yes, take it as my apology for leaving you in the dust for all these days".

mark pauses at your words, they take him by surprise. it's not that he expected you to not notice he was down, you usually notice something's off before mark himself does, but he assumed you'd be so blinded by love that how he feels would be the furthest thing from your mind.

but who is mark kidding? you know him like the back of his hand. if he was upset, even if you were miles away, you'd be able to sense it. no matter how many men you attempt to court and date, none of them could really get you to forget about him.

your hand against his is soft, your tugs are nothing short of playful, and your smile is hidden, but it's there. "won't kunwoo be pissed?"

you narrow your eyes, face twisting into a puzzled expression. the look you give mark makes his stomach drop, but you don't pick up on that, because your focused on the mention of your newest boy toy. "why would he be?"

mark pauses, throat going dry as he feels your thumb grace his palm. "i don't know, he doesn't really seem to like me.."

your eyebrows furrow, then you giggle. "are you kidding? everyone likes you".

the words make mark pause, and he stares at you as if you healed all of his injuries with just your voice. maybe you couldn't see what he saw, but it was such a genuine response that he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. "i mean i guess you do have a point about that.."

mark looks down at the cemented ground, and you snort, nudging him with your shoulder.

"don't think about stuff like that, i have a date tonight anyway".

a date. mark's jaw almost clenches. that's terrific! he couldn't be anymore happier for you! his eye isn't twitching because he's pissed! it's not!

"oh" he croaks, suddenly feeling the need to squeeze your hand. if you suddenly notice his heightened emotions, you don't say anything. "a date, that's nice".

"mhm" you merely hum, lips pressed together as you turn around and again begin walking with mark by your side, hand in hand.

"where are you going?"

you scoff, playfully rolling your eyes. "enough about the date mark, it's just us now, let's focus on that okay?"

see? this is why mark lee doesn't get you.

you can't say things like that then just expect him to be fine. you can't stare at him like he's your entire world and not except for him to think you harbor something romantic for him. you can't just do all of that and just expect for mark to be okay.

because he isn't, and it's all because of your soggy looks, your pretty voice, your pretty smile. you make mark feel things he shouldn't feel for someone whose just his 'best friend'.

he looks down at your intertwined fingers, listening to your silent humming as you swing your laced hands back and forth. "alright, i can get behind that".

you snap out of your little zoning out session, your lips turning up at the reply. "good, now make me some guesses".

"what?"

"where do you think i'm taking you?"

mark again pauses, a soft breeze rushing past you two as the crashing ocean waves sound in your ears. "to some forest to murder me?"

you scoff, you'd give another roll of the eyes if not worried for seeming like a broken record. "no, stupid, if i wanted to murder you i would've done it ages ago".

mark responds with an incredulous gasp, tone full of feigned offense. "you would murder me? your best friend in the whole entire world with no pushback?"

"i don't know, guanheng seems adamant on stealing that spot.."

mark again gasps, but this time there's a little more genuine emotion there, floored at the idea of you replacing him. "hendery? really?"

"don't say that! he's cooler than you!"

a frown tugs at mark's lips, and he nudges you much harder than he intends to. you grunt in just the slightest, childishly sticking out your tongue. "you get jealous sooooo easily".

"shut up".

and of course, you don't.

MARK CAN BARELY FALL ASLEEP THAT NIGHT KNOWING your going on a date. the look in your eye really communicated to him that you weren't about to change your mind, when you're determined, you're determined, and nothing will ever deter you. he could barely control the bile threatening to force it's way up his throat as he wished you good luck, but he found it much easier to contain his feeling of irritation when he saw your smile, your smile is so pretty, mark wanted to become kunwoo in that moment, because the idea of him being the one who got to see it for the rest of the night was just ridiculous. oh right. he had no idea how long you were going to be gone for, what if you come back and he's already asleep? what if you stayed over at his place? what if you—

never mind, he doesn't want to think about that.

when you say bye for the night, you unexpectedly step forward and wrap your arms around mark. it's not like hugs between you two are rare or anything, it was just a tad bit surprising how sudden the embrace was, but it was still special, mark almost wanted to fall asleep in your arms.

"how long are you gonna be gone for?" he asked after you pulled away, brushing your hair out of your face as you thought about it for a moment.

you shrugged, lips pressed into a thin line. "i'm not sure, but you can go to sleep without me around, can't you?"

mark's face went red at the question, he looked guilty as a charged. "yes i can, i was just wondering".

you hummed, grabbing the keys from the kitchen counter, not saying another word to him as you began whistling a tune he couldn't exactly recognize. "be safe".

you blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing. "i will, mark".

"swear?"

"i swear".

mark smiled at you, taking a needed breath of relief. "okay, i love you".

those words came out of nowhere, mark still has no idea why he decided to say them, why he decided that would be the correct thing to say at the moment, but you didn't question it, simply snickered. "i love you too".

mark will forever keep that response in his dearest heart.

he tossed and turned for a while, the large window behind his bed greeting him to the harrowing sounds of the ocean. he doesn't remember how long it took for him to slip off into his slumber, but all he remembers is that he was still thinking of your smile when sleep took him away.

he must've been having an insanely good dream, because he didn't even hear the resounding whispers.

"mark".

nothing.

"mark".

mark grunts, but doesn't open his eyes. his lips part slightly as he feels a small tap land on his shoulder, he still doesn't answer though.

"melk".

he looks so into dreamland, you feel bad for trying to lift him from consciousness. he stirs, settling into the feeling of your nail dragging over his arm.

"markle" you drawl. "markie, mark".

cracking one eye open, mark finally looks at you without turning his head. "is the house on fire?" his words are sloppy, syllables all shuffled around.

"not yet, but i can keep trying if you want".

mark's mouth twitches, suppressing a smile, and you let out a sigh. "what time is it?"

"just past one".

"hm" mark rolls over with his eyes barely open, bumping into your sitting figure. he again opens his eyes, scanning you up and down. you're still in the outfit you left in, your thin sweater simply removed, eyes a noticeably red color that has his brows furrowing. "how was the date?"

you chuckle, and it's bitter enough to have mark's eyes now fully open, his body barely rising from his laying position. "fucking terrible".

mark blinks, rubbing his eyes as the exhaustion now doesn't seem to matter. "woah, what's that supposed to mean?"

you roll your eyes, somehow successfully hiding your sniffles along the way. "the guys i'm into always turn out to be such.. bastards".

mark is going to kill kunwoo.

"what did he do?"

"nothing, that's the problem" you reply, but then you laugh again. what exactly do you laugh at? your circumstances? your situation? the fact that you hate everything?

mark pauses, letting his exhaustion fester elsewhere as he sits up. "y/n.."

"i don't know, i guess i shouldn't have expected much from some cute guy i met while on vacation" you humor yourself with those words, snickering at the look you receive from mark. "don't look at me like that, i'm okay".

"your eyes are red" mark snaps his head towards you, almost pointing at your face with his finger.

a frown tugs at your lips. of course he noticed that, you were hoping he wouldn't bring it up. "it's fine, i'm alright".

you give your best smile, and though it would usually make mark smile, his face instead drops at the display. "don't say that, please give me a real smile".

the reply gets a small laugh out of you, which also gets a genuine smile out of you. a few giggles slip from your lips at the words, which, in turn, make mark's lips turn up. "okay okay, you got me".

oh mark loves seeing you smile.

mark hums, reaching his hand over to tuck your hair behind your ear. "you have a pretty smile".

you pause, lips threatening to turn up again at the words. it's not like mark doesn't say this all the time, he always compliments your smile, it just feels.. different now. you snort. "says you".

"let me compliment you".

"you do that all the time already".

the two of you slip into silence, mark's fingers still busying themselves in your hair. you stare, and he stares back. his eyes glance everywhere, you've always been pretty up close, your features are striking, mark could stare at your face for hours, ticking off each of your little facial features in pure admiration.

the tension in the air could be cut with a knife, but you two stay silent, as if in a competition to see who'll break and speak first. 

then, in an uncharacteristic move, you speak up.

"what do you want to do mark?"

"hm?" he glances down at your lips before his eyes quickly snap back up to stare into yours. he guesses that you're intently watching the movement of his eyes, something that mark probably would've noticed himself if it was you doing it.

"you want to do something".

mark sucks his teeth. "i want to kiss you".

the words fall from his lips much too quickly, and mark almost feels like a robot saying them, but he couldn't contain his honesty anymore. you raise an eyebrow, cheeks dusted red. "do you?"

your smiling again, and mark can't decipher what might be going through your head. he nods, suddenly rendered speechless. "..yeah, so much" his voice almost trails off into a whine, god how pathetic is that?

you hum, shoulders slumping. "what's stopping you?"

mark's mouth feels bitter, and his tooth sinks into his bottom lip. "kunwoo".

you snort, rolling your eyes as you scoot closer to mark, your hand graces his arm, and mark is quick to relax into the touch. "you shouldn't care about that".

your whisper festers into the air, and mark simply watches the movement of your lips.

then mark leans in, fulfilling his newfound itch of the night. he feels you smile against his lips, his hand moving up into your hair. he lets out a small sigh of relief, a sigh that makes you chuckle.

maybe mark had originally wanted to start slow, but then a switch seemed to have flipped. his fingers tangled in your hair, he can't get over how your lips feel. they're soft, plush, his frenzied presses driven by his pure eagerness, want, desire.

how did it take him this long? how couldn't he realize this is what he wanted the entire time?

you two break apart to breath, but it's only a few seconds before mark leans forward again to chase after yet another taste. his aggressiveness makes you go down, your back softly hitting his mattress as he crawls on top of you, a small giggle leaving your lips at his enthusiasm.

you scale your hand up his arm and under his shirt, drawing shapes into his shoulder as the tiniest hint of a whimper leaves your lips. his hands were still messing with your hair, maybe that's one of his favorite hobbies.

you chuckle again, bringing your hand up to hold his jaw, and you keep your hand there when you finally pull him off you. "oh, how long have you wanted to do that?"

mark can barely control his bated breaths, cheeks a rosy red and lips kissed the same color. "like forever— fuck i can't.. i can't believe i actually got to do that".

you hum, thumb caressing the underside of his jaw. "ah, you were thinking about it".

mark's words get stuck in his throat, and his blatantly red face must be embarrassing. he stares at you as if your the only person in the world, splayed under him in all your gorgeous glory. yes, he did think about this, it got to a little bit of an unhealthy rate. "i thought about way more than just kissing.."

"woah, slow your roll there, lee, what are you implying with that?"

mark stares down at you, cheeks red, hair messy as you begin humming. it makes no fucking sense. you look pretty doing everything, and he rolls his eyes. he responds to you with yet another kiss, except there's less of that prior aggression and more of gentleness.

mark tugs at your bottom lip, your hands slipping down towards his hips, keeping him in his place. he gives a slight squeak of response, obviously not expecting that.

"you gonna tell me what you were implying?"

"can't i just show you?"

"ooooo" you can't contain your snicker, your best friend is sort of pinning you down on his bed, the crashing ocean waves make a red color spread across your face. "i see, look at you being bold".

mark merely hums, diving down to begin sucking bruises into your neck. "you need to be quiet".

"and what are you gonna do if i don't? hm?"

mark sends you a look, the kind of look you expect to see in situations like this. "i won't tell you, i'll show you".

"you're doing much more telling than showing right now".

mark glares. "brat".

"you love it".

mark eyes the bruises he sucked into your skin, purple blemishes that stand out against your empty neck. "you're so pretty.. so pretty".

you are also about to lose your sanity if he doesn't do anything more, you're quite literally about to snap his neck if he doesn't just fucking do it. "as you say all the time.."

mark clicks his tongue, finger ghosting your collarbone. "it's deserved".

mark is going to make sure you hear everything he had to say tonight, he's going to show his appreciation for you through and through, he'll get his point across through any means.

maybe he'll figure out his feelings in the process, too.

"YOU KNOW, YOU KIND OF REMIND ME OF DONGHYUCK.." THE moment mark utters those words, you snap your head towards him, eyes narrowed and lips parted. he takes your reaction as a bad one, your judging look washing a weird sense of fear onto him. you can be strangely scary at times, and the look mark receives just strikes the weirdest amount of fear in him. "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you ask, a hint of offense in your tone. you are clueless as to what he could possibly mean by that, and mark realizes those words seem pretty vague in hindsight. he stares at you, your messy hair, the same pajamas he changed you into after you two had finished your.. activity. you look adorable, mark can't help but giggle as he observes you, and you scrunch your nose at his actions.

"you two are kinda the same, like twins".

"twins?"

"yeah, you're both insanely annoying" mark says, walking past you and ignoring the other look you share with him. "and besides, you two are both my best friends, your bound to have some similarities, you guys even share some moles in the same place".

you trail behind mark, lips turning downward. "so you just.. usually make out with your best friends?" you ask, hands naturally trailing down towards his hips.

mark turns around just fast enough to meet your eyes, leaning back against the kitchen counter as your hands stay steady on his hips. he hums, staring at your lips. "no, it's just you".

"oh? am i the exception?"

"mhm" mark sees the way your eyes seemingly light up at the words, a small squeeze to his hips. you get giddy so easily, he has to resist the urge to giggle. "it's only you i have my eyes on".

your cheeks flare up, and you chuckle as you look down. you really like the sound of that. when you look back up, mark is quick to press his lips to yours. you squeak out of surprise, but your quick to melt into his touch.

mark's newfound obsession is kissing you, your lips are always so fucking soft. how much chapstick do you use? or are they just naturally like that? he'll have to kiss you more to find out (that's his new excuse).

"you're so enthusiastic, where was this energy when i flirted with you before?"

"that was different".

"was it?" you lean away when mark goes back in for another kiss, smiling at the way his face drops. he scrunches his nose, tongue poking against his inner cheek. "how different was it?"

mark sucks his teeth, hand coming up to the back of your neck to pull you closer. "see? you are annoying".

"you didn't answer my question~"

"can't i just kiss you as my answer?" he breathes against your lips, unsuccessfully fighting a smile.

you pretend to think about it, tilting your head to sell your bit. "you just want to kiss me more".

"is that so bad?"

you stare down your best friend, but then you sigh, you can't resist him. "no".

and that's all mark needs. he pulls you back down towards him, sighing in contentment as he feels the soft plush of your lips against his. you lose your composure rather quickly, pulling mark as close as he could get, as if you'd die if you weren't touching every single part of him.

small (but intelligible) whimpers spill from your lips, sounds that have mark wanting to giggle and kick his feet in joy. he is doing that to you? oh he feels so proud of himself.

mark lee might just be addicted to kissing you.

"okay okay enough, your kiss amount is up".

"what? hey!"

your hand slips from his, and mark blinks, absolutely dumbfounded. you smile, expression full of cheek as you watch mark's drop. "since when did we have kiss amounts?"

"since about two seconds ago!" you yell as you make your way over to your room, mark for being from where you left him desolate at the kitchen counter. "you lose control too quickly".

"as if you don't like that.."

mark crosses his arms over his chest, following you to your room to give you a piece of his mind. "but i love kissing you dude!"

you give a weird look. "you can't call me dude after we just made out!"

mark scoffs. "what do you want me to call you then? baby?"

you pause, a bright red color spreading across your cheeks. you also like the sound of that. for some reason, it feels so right. you can already hear the word 'baby' fresh on mark's lips, and in reference to you to?

it sounds pretty cute.

"yeah no i think i prefer dude.."

you don't notice how mark's face drops at those words, he knows they're feigned, but the fact that you felt the need to lie just makes his stomach hurt. that's nice y/n, that's fine, i can totally get behind that, my feelings for you aren't complicated at all!

mark hates his thoughts.

but he doesn't disclose any of them, he gives a fake smile and forces out a strained chuckle. "fine, dude, don't get mad with me again though".

you can't even fight your smile anymore, because it comes to full force when you face mark, who is busy staring at the marks he sucked into your neck. maybe those are too obvious, you'd have trouble trying to cover them.

you snap your fingers in front of mark's face. "hey, you alright?"

mark blinks, locking eyes with you. he thinks he's dreaming, did you two really get to this point? mark assumed he'd wallow in his own jealousy forever, never getting the opportunity to really feel these things around you. "yeah, sorry.."

"mhm" you press your lips into a thin line, and mark steps closer to bury his face into your shoulder, an action of affection that is now regular for you two. "no need to apologize, what's going on in your head?"

mark doesn't answer that, simply lets out a deep breath. "don't wanna talk about it".

"that's fine" you whisper, you can wait until he's ready to talk about it.

MARK'S EYES PRACTICALLY BURN BY THE TIME he can finally see again. he almost inhales a gallon of ocean water, he can still taste the salt of it on his tongue. how you managed to convince him to get into the ocean with all of his clothes still on? he has absolutely no idea, but it had no right being so fun as it was. he wipes his face as best he can with his hands, and he hears your titular laugh sounding close by, so loud that not even the rushing ocean water can keep it silent. he shivers, jumping when he feels your wet hand grace his shoulder. "i'm never doing that with you ever again" he scolds, unable to sound serious with the way his lips refuse to turn down. you giggle, quickly grabbing a towel for you two to share, wrapping it around both you and mark as you sit on the other towel you brought to the beach. "i'm sure i could convince you easily enough if i tried" you reply, resting your head onto mark's shoulder.

"that's only because i let you get away with things" mark responds, pressing closer to you, as close as he can get with the lack of space already between the two of you. you let out a sigh of contentment, feeling good in the current place you are.

it's always been comfortable like that with mark.

"keep telling yourself that".

"it's true" mark bites back, and you hum as you again let out a sigh. "you only get a pass because you're my best friend" he drags his finger down your arm, smiling as you relax into the touch.

"aww, is it not because i'm so cute?" your lips turn downward into a pout, and you lean into mark as you feign sadness at his previous words.

"nope" mark pushes you back with only his pointer finger, and you chuckle against his touch once again.

the beach wasn't your original destination, but it's much too difficult to avoid the beach, and by proxy, the ocean. mark didn't really want to swim, because you two weren't planning on going to the beach, but you were somehow able to convince him to get into the water, he has no idea how you even got that to happen, but you did, your striking smile is much too difficult to ignore.

you two spent so much time just messing around, acting like the idiots you were supposed to be when you originally decided to go on vacation together. yeah all the drinking, seagull chasing, and cooking attempts were fun, but just being idiots on beach? this is what going on vacation is about.

you couldn't have stifled so many of your giggles today, and mark, mark just made it so much better. you feel so much around mark, you don't know how you hid such feelings for so long. "you really are something.."

mark blinks, admiring your smile, he's cut off by a sudden rush of wind, which sends a shiver down both your spines. you snicker, grabbing his hand. "let's go back, yeah? it's getting cold now".

mark nods, wrapping his arm around your waist as you wrap your arm around his, the two of you laughing as you trip over your feet to make your way back to the beach house. "tomorrow, we need to check out that ice cream parlor".

mark gives you a look. "the one with the.. what is it? fucking amazing waffle cones?" he inquires, recalling jungwoo's words when he was telling you two about the place awhile ago.

you snort. "that one, yes".

mark simply gives a small smile, you think he looks especially cute with his wet hair. blue was really the move, you love it.

"you gonna pay?"

"woah! why do i have to pay?"

mark nudges you, almost rolling his eyes. "you made me deal with kunwoo for a whole week, that man did not like me".

"that's ridiculous".

the other look you receive from mark is full of the incredulity you except, mark looks at you as if you just punched him in the gut and spat on him as he doubled over. "ridiculous? you should've seen the way he stared at me, you would've thought i robbed his mom or something".

"it's ridiculous how he didn't like you".

mark scoffs, a cold shiver running down his spine as he thinks of his next response. "think it was pretty obvious why.."

it's a simple mutter, but you know what he means by those words. you hum, getting out the keys and unlocking the door, mark feels a sense of déjà vu as he lets you take him in, letting him rest half his body weight onto you.

you suck your teeth as you hear mark yawn. "don't get so sleepy, we still have to dry our hair".

mark hums, looking up at you.

and mark can't exactly grasp why it's so romantic. why the giggles are full of much more love, why the acts of affection mean so much more, why he doesn't want all the lingering touches to stop. he rolls his eyes at your complaints when he cleans the sand out of your hair, and he smiles softly at the sight.

you look mesmerized by everything mark does, your eyes tracking him and every single action he performed like he was the single most important being to ever grace the earth. your eyes held a love you had never once showcased for another human being before. it couldn't just be platonic.

you practically stay glued to his side the whole time, an act that isn't as surprising to mark, it's kind of your whole thing to become super affectionate so randomly. he just likes it more this time, maybe it's the way you fingers grace his waist that make him feel safer.

you giggle when mark changes into those cute pink pajamas you usually never see him wear, but he only gives you a dirty look, one which makes you stop talking in fear of pissing him off.

and that is how you end up here, listening to mark's heartbeat as he runs his fingers through your hair, his eyes closed, but him not yet being asleep. sharing beds have never been unusual to you two, it's just.. different now.

"i can still taste the ocean water, dude".

you chuckle, feeling the rise and fall of mark's chest. you are so comfortable here, a sense of warmth easily envelopes you with mark. nothing could ever compare to how you feel around him. "maybe you shouldn't have done that dive then, dude".

mark narrows his eyes at you, taking in the tone of sarcasm in your words. you lift from your place on mark's chest, leaning your elbow onto the bed, and your head against your hand. you use your free hand to take mark's and intertwine it with yours. you stare at him from your place above him, lips turning up by just staring at his face.

"you are so fucking cute".

mark rolls his eyes, a small smile showing on his face. "are you really saying that? look at you".

"don't try to flatter me".

"dude, have you met yourself?"

"don't call me dude, dude" you argue, eyes shining with feigned rage when you hear a correspondent giggle from mark.

"you said you prefer dude!"

"okay well— i lied! don't call me dude, you call random men on the sidewalk dude, not me".

"what do you want me to call you then?"

god you're frustrating.

"anything but dude".

mark sighs, watching the way your cheeks dust red at just having to disclose this information to mark with pure honesty. he stares at your intertwined fingers, leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto your knuckles. the act is much too simple, but it leaves a lasting impression.

"i hate you".

"okay dude".

you snap a glare in mark's direction, but you also can't hide your budding smile. he's just so hard to be mad at, he shouldn't be allowed to harbor such beauty while simply lying down. "fuck you".

"i'm sure you want to" mark teases, leaning his head against the pillow, his hair falling down prettily behind him.

you choose to not answer that, instead letting go of mark's hand to grab his jaw and pull him in. your first time being the one to initiate, and it's just as messy as mark expected for it to be.

you can taste the remains of mint toothpaste on mark's tongue, and there's a certain frenzy that puts you on, your hand sliding down to the middle of mark's chest, again feeling the beating of his heart. you allow for your hand to journey under his shirt, exploring the warmth of his bare skin.

"slow that hand down dude.."

"if you fucking call me that again—" you grit your teeth, an empty threat dancing on your tongue. mark doesn't try to move your hand, just lets you do your thing.

mark stares up at you, waiting for the eventual threat, but it doesn't come, that's strange for you. he smirks, and you glare as you catch it. "come on y/n, threaten me".

you suck your teeth, instead pulling a mark by shutting him up with a kiss. it's again messy, a clash of the teeth and a mini fight in between all the chaos.

give me your best shot, mark says, tugging your bottom lip to truly sell his words. of course you bite, not hard enough to draw blood, mark finds it funny how you hold back during this moment out of every other one.

your hand again ventures, seemingly having a mind of it's own. you fiddle with the buttons of his pajama shirt, caressing the soft fabric between your fingers. when you pull away for breath, you simply stare, an indecisive look in your eyes.

"can i?" you ask, simply dragging your finger across what's exposed of his neck.

mark presses his lips together, staring at you as if  ppl you're the only person in the world. he then gives you a lazy smile, a hand carting through your hair. "you're sacrificing sleep for sex?"

you snicker. "but it's good sex".

"and how are you so sure?"

"just let me prove it to you" you sing, tapping a finger onto his cheek. "and besides, we could always sleep in.." mark closes his eyes, humming as he feels your other hand press onto his chest, it's such a strange feeling, but it's foreign in a nice way.

"what about the ice cream?" mark's question is breathy, but he still finds a way to give you that tormenting smile. how annoying.

"you can't possibly be thinking about ice cream while i'm on top of you in your bed right now" you quickly counter, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

"i like ice cream, though".

"and me?"

mark opens his eyes, smile lazy and expression soft. "maybe you're just a little better than ice cream".

"a little?"

mark decides not to answer that one. "knock yourself out".

you roll your eyes at how he decided to grant you permission, but you chuckle anyway. "might knock you out after were done.."

"i'm looking forward to it".

you swear your going to wipe that smile off mark's face (that's a lie, you actually really enjoy seeing it).

"THE AMOUNT OF SPRINKLES ON THAT SHOULD BE illegal" the remark makes you choke around the tiny plastic spoon you tried to chuckle into. you purposefully bite down on the sprinkles to piss him off, lips turning up as you catch his eye twitch. it's so easy to rile him up, annoying him really is one of your best qualities. "how do not like sprinkles?" you ask, looking at him incredulously. mark takes a huge bite of the waffle cone in his hand, ignoring your question and instead replying with an interested hum. "these are fucking amazing waffle cones.." he mutters, and you scoff, shoving his shoulder. he gives a satisfied giggle at your irritation, your face dropping immediately when you see how joyful he seems. "what?" he asks, feigning idiocy as you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest and rolling your eyes. he can't even stifle his laughter anymore, barely containing his chuckles behind his hand.

"i fucking hate you".

mark seems pleased by your annoyance, grimacing as you eat yet another scoop of those sprinkles. "okay you sprinkle enjoyer, they're too sweet anyway".

"but i like sweet things".

"yeah cause you're basically a toddler" your lips turn down at the words, and mark runs a hand through your hair, suddenly very interested in the soft strands. "don't get mad, i'm just saying".

you scoff, looking down at your chocolate ice cream, your sprinkles are running out anyway. "i am mad, and i'm going to go get more sprinkles" you grumble, but your smiling as you walk off to go ask the person at the counter if you can add more sprinkles to your ice cream.

mark again laughs when he remembers the sight of your irritated face, you always look so cute when you're mad. he can practically hear the scowls from you when you realize he's been laughing.

he just can't help it.

"oh, you".

mark glances up, letting go of his spoon and letting out a strained chuckle. the one person he did not want to see. fucking kunwoo of all people.

"hi" mark tries his best to be civil, but all kunwoo does is scoff.

"cut the bullshit, what? do you think you can just influence y/n's actions now?"

mark scoffs, so much for being civil, all he wants to do is get more waffle cones, but of course someone has to ruin his fucking day, and of course it has to be the guy he was wrongly jealous of. "i have no idea what you're talking about".

"y/n isn't texting me back, and i know you have something to do with it".

mark almost rolls his eyes. "i don't influence y/n's decisions, if he isn't talking to you, than he's probably doing it on his own accord".

kunwoo laughs. what's so funny? mark inquires in his head, his ice cream is beginning to melt. "do you really expect me to believe that? you've always been such a jealous prick—"

"see? told you i got more sprinkles" you pause when your eyes gaze upon the scene before you. "oh! hi.. kunwoo" you grit your teeth, eye twitching in the slightest, mark almost laughs at the sight.

"oh you've gotta be kidding me, you two? give me a fucking break".

"oh please, don't start".

"i will, actually! you never seem to stop y/n, how long until you go off to the next guy—"

"you can't just say that.." you place a hand on mark's shoulder, making him go quiet.

"are you still angry with me for yelling at you?" you question, tone suddenly growing much more irritated. "sorry i don't enjoy when people try to force themselves onto me".

kunwoo scoffs, and mark has to bite his tongue, he might say something he isn't proud of. "for the last time, it was a joke, he always acts like that—"

"well then maybe you can see why i don't want to talk to you!"

mark sighs, clearing his throat. "anyway, i don't exactly appreciate the company of someone like you.. and my ice cream is now melting, maybe sort things out with your.. friend first".

and then mark is being dragged back into the ice cream parlor, his hand being tugged by yours. you sigh as you make it inside, peaking to make sure kunwoo didn't follow you in. "bastard".

mark blinks, noticing the way your shoulders slump. "y/n.. are you okay?"

you suck your teeth, immediately displaying a fake smile. "of course i am, kunwoo just sucks, he doesn't deserve my time".

mark scoffs. "if you really think i'm gonna believe that, you must be crazy".

you knew mark wouldn't believe that in the slightest. you drop your smile and simply hum, taking in a deep breath. "i just don't want to think about what he said, it'll take away too much of my attention and then i'm gonna start taking it personally which will never get us anywhere!"

mark is about to open his mouth again, but you cut him off. "can we get more ice cream now? ours has become like.. liquid by now".

"get as much as you please" mark shrugs. "i don't really want anymore".

you glance at him, narrowing your eyes. "come on, get as much as you want, i'm paying!"

mark can barely stop his lips from turning up, the interaction with kunwoo is still rubbing him the wrong way, but he guesses he can let it go for now. "your sprinkles look sad, good for them".

the comment gets a flurry of giggles out of you, you get nothing but absolute amusement from those words. "what is it with you and sprinkles? why do you hate them?"

"they're too sweet".

"oh, so you hate me?" you rebut, scooping chocolate ice cream into your cup and laughing at something in your head. "sprinkles are my pride and joy".

"i'm not your pride and joy?"

"you don't compare to sprinkles".

mark gasps, sticking his tongue out at you. now he's the one that's irritated, how funny. "i can't believe i'm losing to sprinkles, i feel insulted".

"it's the truth, sorry".

mark frowns, you know he isn't genuinely offended by that, because he keeps fighting his life whenever he glances over at you. "see? i hate sprinkles".

you lick your spoon again, nudging mark with your shoulder. "stop pouting, can you forgive me?"

you gently take his jaw and turn him towards you, a red color spread across mark's cheeks as he stares you in the eye. he avoids your gaze, cheeks still dusted red. "i guess so.."

you smile.

"just don't compare me to sprinkles again, i mean much more than they do".

"okay mark, i'll make sure not to do that next time".

and maybe mark smiles much too widely at that.

MARK REALLY LOST TRACK OF TIME AFTER YOUR GUYS' first kiss, because he feels like he blinked and it's suddenly his birthday. the best thing about summer birthdays is that he can party to his heart's content, drink till he passes out and wakes up with a terrible hangover. sometimes he forgets birthdays exist, because it feels like his birthday takes ages to come around with the amount of stuff he's busy doing during the school year. you neglected to mention what you'd be doing for his birthday, but you usually do that every year, you love to simply announce surprises out of the blue, you do that with all of your friends. mark has always thought he's good at reading you, but reading you as the second of august steadily approaches has become much more difficult.

mark already knew everyone was coming, he had mentioned it in passing way before you two decided to go on vacation, but he still finds himself startled when the doorbell rings and there are two giants standing on the doorstep (jaehyun's look of offense at being called 'giant' really brightened his mood).

"y/nie!" jungwoo surges through the front door and practically lifted you from the floor when he wrapped you in a tightening hug. "oh i thought mark would've killed you by now".

"trust me i tried".

your face falls at the words from mark, jungwoo attacking your cheeks with kisses. "he loves me too much to actually kill me".

"why are you lying?"

"he's probably telling the truth! knowing you anyway.."

mark's jaw drops, it's always donghyuck going after him isn't it? he crosses his arms, grimacing. "you can't insult me, it's my birthday".

"it's not insulting if it's true!"

mark again frowns, but then he snaps his fingers as soon as you're released from jungwoo's grip and stumble towards donghyuck. "johnny, dude, don't they look like twins?"

johnny blinks, narrowing his eyes. "woah! no they kinda do!"

"see!?"

jaehyun tilts his head. "i see two donghyuck's.."

you and donghyuck exchange glances, both displaying the same emotions on your face. "i do not like this comparison, hyuck is not that great—"

"hey fuck you!"

"no fuck you actually! how do you think i'm anything like him—"

"okay okay, calm down" mark steps in between you two, but his touches linger on you more than they do on donghyuck. "not on my birthday, please".

you don't say anything more, simply snicker and look away from mark. donghyuck stares at you two strangely, but he doesn't comment on what he sees. "i'm going to be singing for you, though!"

"oh god not again".

you snort, and donghyuck frowns. "i will pierce your eardrums—"

"okay! let's not threaten anyone! mark is twenty four! let us celebrate!"

mark couldn't have heard too many piercing shouts that day, which quickly turned into night. by the time the clock strikes eight, jaehyun is passed out on the couch, but mark can't figure out if it was the alcohol or simply the exhaustion from being endlessly dragged around by everyone.

where the fuck did all the booze come from? mark has no idea, but he can't push down the sudden anxiety he feels. it's nice to be around everyone again, though he would never admit it, he missed renjun and donghyuck's annoying fights, missed jungwoo's drunk escapades, missed the annoying complaints from yangyang, yes he missed his friends.

but mark suddenly has a realization when he doesn't see you around. that's strange. you should be on your fifth cup of shitty alcohol by now. it isn't time for presents yet, but he still misses your presence anyway.

it's hard to not miss the person you've been spending pretty much all of the past month with.

"xiaojun, have you seen y/n?"

dejun blinks, patting yangyang's back, the younger sobs about something mark can't exactly get. "uh.. no, sorry".

mark smiles. "it's fine i.. whatever thanks".

"you really haven't told him yet?" dejun raises an eyebrow, and mark immediately gets what he means, face going bright red.

"i'm working on it okay? i just.. you know what, thank you dejun".

dejun giggles, simply muttering a small 'your welcome' and waving his hand forward.

mark sucks his teeth, he avoided drinking in case no one sober was left, but the only thing he's focused on is making sure you're alive. you're much too impulsive, maybe you'll fall off the roof or something without anyone knowing, or maybe a bunch of aliens are going to come abduct you and no one will be there to witness it.

mark drags his feet everywhere, trying to catch sight of you, but you seemed to have disappeared. he almost calls out your name, but he stops himself in fear of sounding like an idiot drowned in desperation.

"there you are" make startles, but relaxes the moment he catches sight of you. your eyes light up when you see mark, and you extend your hand forward, offering it for mark to take. he sighs in relief, intertwining it with yours.

"you aren't drunk".

you chuckle, caressing the soft of his skin. "is that surprising to you?"

"..kinda".

you roll your eyes. "okay fuck you, i just don't feel like it today".

mark stares at you for a moment, then tightens his grip on your hands and tugs you forward, taking you away from the loud music of the hallway. "woah, where are we going?"

"somewhere.."

you don't get the meaning of that, which makes your nose scrunch. "slow down, do you not want to be around other people?"

"we just.. can we talk?"

mark leads you outside, anxiously picking at his own skin as he awaits your response. he doesn't turn around to see your smile, but you give him a squeeze of the hand. "of course, that's what i'm here for".

you don't often go on the balcony, because you two spent so much of your vacation out doing random things, but it's a good place for privacy when the rest of the house has everyone else in it.

"you know.. um— i'm confused, on what we are? i don't want to just be.. i don't know your kiss buddy? i want to be more than that and i know you sometimes dislike labels but i've literally been in love with you like— forever and oh my god it pains me to think about it because then i think you don't feel the same way so i.. overthink everything".

you blink, and mark covers his face with his hands to avoid your eyes. you laugh, looking down at the rushing ocean, it appears beautiful from this view. "hey, look at me please".

mark groans. "don't say please".

"mark".

mark doesn't fully remove his hands from his face, but he lowers his hands in order to see you. "what makes you think i don't feel the same way?"

mark sighs. "i know you".

you nudge him, that same pretty smile tugging at your lips. "not well enough, i thought it was obvious?"

mark bites into his inner cheek, he feels just a bit stupid right now. "i don't really get how you think these days".

you look down at where your hands stay laced together, and you abruptly tug him forward, eliciting a yelp from mark. "i'm just as in love with you as you are with me".

"tell me you're not joking".

"mark".

"sorry" he's quick to squeak. "i'm just trying to grasp this situation but i really can't because.."

mark pauses, letting out a well needed breath. "because?"

"you love me too" mark whispers, as if he couldn't believe such a thing could be possible. you laugh, so amused that you'd probably fall over from how hard you were laughing.

"mark, was that confession last week not an indication?"

"well some people just randomly do that during sex i didn't really think about it like that! i just thought you were being.. you".

you roll your eyes. "my god i love you".

mark pauses, those words striking him in a way only your words can. "say it again".

your lips turn up, tease on the tip of your tongue, but you giggle softly and take his other hand in yours. you lean closer, eyes laser focusing on the curves of mark's own. "i love you, mark, so much".

mark is about to jump off the balcony in pure joy. "you should kiss me".

you feign confusion, tilting your head. "should i?"

"yeah, it's my birthday, don't withhold something like this from me".

you hum, rolling your eyes at the words. how funny, you guessed he was going to say that. you feel his hands squeeze against yours, and you simply snicker. mark can't stare at you without exponentially heating up, but you don't say anything, just sigh.

mark lets go of one of your hands to gently take your jaw and press his lips to yours. your lips are always so soft, and they still taste like cherries. mark isn't the biggest fan of cherries, but he can't get over the taste when it's on your lips.

"you're lips are always so soft" mark chuckles against you. "you stack up on chapstick?"

"no mark i literally apply it regularly".

mark snorts.

"hey, ask me".

"what?"

"ask me out, stupid".

mark rolls his eyes. "will you be my boyfriend, y/n?"

you pretend to think about it, whistling as your thoughts run in circles around your brain. "sure, i guess!"

mark punches you in the shoulder, making you squeak and jump back, avoiding his touch. "you guess? i'm breaking up with you".

"we've been dating for two seconds! take me back, please!" you wrap your arms around mark and rest your head against his back, lips turned downward in feigned sadness.

mark can't even stifle his laughs anymore. "fine, but only because it's you".

you giggle in joy, taking mark's hands and turning him around. "it's probably time for gifts now, come on, before jungwoo starts thinking the worst".

"the worst?"

"he probably thinks we're fucking up here or something".

mark scrunches his nose, not even making a noise when you lurch him forward with a tug of his hand. "how would that be bad?"

"he'd probably like.. scream and then make a big show out of it".

mark stares at you incredulously, and you stop to ruffle his hair. "you're going to like my gift the best".

"oh? how are you so sure about that?"

"i know you".

mark doesn't respond to that one, because he can't deny the fact that you do.

THE FINAL DAYS OF AUGUST STEADILY APPROACH, AND with that also comes the end of your summer vacation. mark's birthday was as enjoyable as it was magical, maybe birthday love confessions are tacky to some people, but mark giggled over it for so long that by the time he stopped giggling over it, almost three weeks had passed. the weeks after mark's birthday were filled with idiotic love adventures that you can only describe as purely out of this world. kissing in the ocean is one thing, and drunkenly sobbing over stray cats is most definitely another. mark writes infinitely obscure sentences into that journal of his, and the bed sharing becomes much more regular. it only started growing normal after sex started growing a little normal, you two couldn't even make excuses for falling asleep in each other's arms anymore.

you two don't even really sleep most nights though, you spend them walking the beach and daring each other to jump into the ocean, knowing full well it's too cold to be doing that.

there isn't much of a change, even with the boyfriend titles being bestowed upon you two. you still go on dates, attempt to cook (mark really needs to work on that), belt exo songs at midnight, and dance in the living room.

wine nights and journaling make themselves regular guests in your daily routine, paired with you chiding mark to take care of himself. the romantic connotations may have been hidden before, but they're bright as day now with how unashamedly mark stares at your lips while you literally do anything.

the pure domesticity of the whole thing makes you feel warm, mark relays his true thoughts to you in the cool whispers of the night, you remind him it's important to talk about how he feels, and you always manage to coax him into it with tickles to his stomach, practically making him die with laughter so he gives into your incessant demands.

it gets to the point where you almost run out of things to do, spending every waking moment together just makes the act of leaning against each other enough to pass time. you don't even have to talk to have a good time with mark, just being around him is fine.

the door to your room swings open, and mark steps in, falling directly on top of you, no words said. you sigh, turning off your phone. "well hello to you too, baby".

mark almost freezes, he doesn't know how long it'll take for him to get used to being called that, but he really likes the sound of it. "y/n.."

"yes?" mark rests his head onto your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat, smiling as he feels your hand beginning to go up and down his back, the ministrations bringing him a feeling of solace.

"my mom called" he begins, his words merely a low mutter. "i told her about us and.. well, i was thinking we could go to vancouver this coming winter break?"

you snicker. "you planned ahead?"

"i always plan ahead, and besides, my mom misses you! you aren't about to deny an opportunity to see my mom are you?"

you roll your eyes. "no mark, i love your mom she's an angel, i'm just a bit surprised".

mark takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. "it'll be a good trip, like.. the nostalgia and stuff? that's where we met!"

he's so excited about it, his pure giddiness makes a smile form on your lips. "i love the idea of that, mark, and i also miss your mom too".

mark narrows his eyes. "okay well now you're steering off track".

"seeing your mom is like a plus one! what do you mean steering off track?"

mark frowns, rolling off you and landing right beside you on your mattress, a small thumb accompanying his movement. the faint sound of the ocean rushing begs a smile out of you. "can't believe summer vacation is over, i've become attached to this place".

mark slings an arm over your waist, and he tucks his face into your neck, pressing a small kiss to the skin. "you like living by the beach?"

"yes! i'll miss my stupid room with the huge window in front of the water!"

you snort. "you baby".

mark turns over, resting his arms onto your chest and staring down at you, biting his bottom lip. "you look so.. easy like this".

"is that how you tell me you want a kiss?"

mark presses his lips together. more or less is his silent answer, and he leans forward to capture your lips, fingers caressing the skin of your collarbone. "no more kissing while swimming, huh?"

"we could always just hijack chenle's pool".

mark stares at you, and then you both burst into laughter. "chenle would never!"

"it's funny to think about, though".

mark clicks his tongue, taking your bottom lip in between his teeth. he's never going to get tired of this, it's insane how addicting your lips are, they fit perfectly with his, as if you two were molded for each other.

there's only a few seconds of pulling away for air before he's on you again, and your hand slides up his shirt, feeling the bare skin of his side. he gives a breathy chuckle against your lips, as if amused, but he's gotten used to your tricks by now.

"you are so unbelievable" he remarks, nipping at your jaw then slowly starting down your neck, taking the skin between his teeth and giggling as he feels you suddenly grip his hip.

you scrunch your nose, successfully hiding your whimpers by holding in your breaths instead. "mark, we have to go watch the sunset".

your voice is raspy, wrecked from the assault on your neck. you feel mark's lips turn up on your skin, his resounding chuckle sending vibrations through your body. "you just remembered that.."

"yep".

mark frowns, pretending to think it over. "sunset doesn't matter right now".

you feign shock at the words, widening your eyes. "so you're just disregarding our evening plans now?" you inquire, hissing when he again latches himself onto your neck, god he really does like doing that.

"this is better, trust me" he whispers, and you close your eyes, a small sigh escaping your lips as you bask in the feelings mark gives you.

"you totally sound untrustworthy when you say that".

mark again laughs, his nail scratching at your thin shirt. "just.. let me do this for you, okay?"

you pause, finally shrugging as mark smiles, it's just a little addicting, his smile. he then leans down and kisses you again, unable to contain his excitement when he got yet another taste of that cherry chapstick.

ocean waves crash against each other faintly outside your window, but all you can think about are mark's lips on yours.

[mariaofdoranelle]

Of Rumors and Bodyguards

CO-WRITTEN WITH @leiawritesstories

Written for Rowaelin Month’s Forbidden Love day; @rowaelinscourt

We’re just two writers sharing little evil giggles and big plans, that’s all.

Warnings: swearing

Words: 1,2k

AELIN GALATHYNIUS CHEATING SCANDAL: SPOTTED IN INTIMATE MOMENT WITH BODYGUARD!!!

“QUEEN OF GLASS” STAR SHARED EMBRACE WITH SECURITY GUARD! DORIAN HAVILLIARD IN TEARS!

Aelin Galathynius caught cheating on Dorian Havilliard with bodyguard! Hollywood’s Darling Has How Many Darlings??? See New Photos

After the third ridiculous headline, Aelin dropped both the stack of magazines and her phone and flopped backwards on the hotel bed with a groan. Her publicist had woken her up with coffee and the tabloids, and she wished she had time to wake up before she had to look at the absolutely crazy stories that the gossiping tabloids spread. Even though she had been acting for years, she still wasn’t used to their prying and the constant cameras clicking in her face, even when she wasn’t trying to be noticed.

Besides, that garbage about her and her bodyguard? It was pure nonsense.

Well, mostly nonsense.

The photos they had taken were true enough, because Aelin had hugged her bodyguard last night. However, there was absolutely no romance involved—Whitethorn had been physically supporting her, keeping her on her feet.

Because he’s her bodyguard. He was guarding her body, that’s all—and a lot less than she would like.

She had been about to collapse after she had received a very brief, very shocking call on the phone she rarely used. The voice on the other end had been low, curt, and to the point. There was an accident during a job. We haven’t heard anything from them. That was two weeks ago.

The implication—they could be dead—made Aelin’s whole body go weak, and her security guard’s rapid reflexes were the only thing that had kept her upright. For a moment, she let him hold her, let him stabilize her, leaned into the solid strength of his Kevlar-covered chest. And then she pulled herself together, put away her burner phone, and stepped away from Whitethorn’s hug. She’d given him a nod of thanks, and he nodded back in quiet understanding.

Simple support, and not even an emotional one. That was all that had happened.

Leave it to the tabloids to take that moment out of context and start rumors that spread like wildfire across the Internet.

And Dorian—he was probably too busy with the boyfriend he was definitely hiding from the tabloids to notice the Rumor of the Day, but his publicist would surely give Aelin a piece of her mind soon.

Elide stuck her head into Aelin’s hotel room, rolled her eyes when she saw the magazines discarded on the floor. “You know they’re a load of crap,” the publicist said as she walked over and picked them up. “Also, I need you to read this one.” She flipped one of the magazines open and laid it across Aelin’s lap.

“Why?” Aelin glanced quickly down at the pages, scoffing at the grainy, zoomed-in photos splashed onto the glossy paper. “Gossip pisses me off, Ells.”

“Yeah, I know, but you need to read the actual words so you know how to respond when the people today ask you about it.” As usual, Elide had a good point.

“Fine.” Aelin frowned, but she began to read.

Is Aelin Galathynius Taken By Someone Else?!?!?

The “Queen of Glass” star was spotted last night in an intimate embrace with a man who sources say is her current bodyguard, Rowan Whitethorn, who has been on her security team since March, when Galathynius began this press tour for the newest season of the Netflix hit series.

Sources report that Aelin and her co-star Dorian Havilliard are often seen getting cozy together outside of press appearances, and an exchange in a recent interview confirmed that the pair’s wild, explosive chemistry on-screen has spilled off the screen too. Fans all over the world were overjoyed to hear of the star’s new romance.

But the photos from last night tell an entirely different story. Could it be that the actress has more than one man after her heart? Or could she be keeping something secret?

Last night, sources say that Galathynius was walking back to her hotel with Whitethorn as her escort when she stopped briefly in a nearby park. Only minutes later, she was spotted in her bodyguard’s arms! Looks like a romance is brewing, or even already in progress! After all, her incredibly popular character in “Queen of Glass” spent the whole first season secretly in love with Dorian’s character until they finally brought their romance to light. Is life imitating art?

According to an eyewitness, the embrace lasted for several minutes before the actress moved away from her bodyguard and began walking to her hotel again. At this time, we do not know any additional details, but with the ongoing press tour, we are certain that she will make an announcement soon. Keep your eyes on our social media for the latest, hottest updates!!

“They’re such vultures.” Disgusted, Aelin threw the magazine at Elide, who caught it before it could smack her in the stomach.

Elide huffed. “It’s their job to stir up the people. Be prepared for at least half the interviewers today to ask you about this.” She launched into her daily spiel about what Aelin should expect during the press that she, Dorian and a few of their castmates were filming. “And above all, don’t you dare let Dorian answer any of the questions they’re going to ask about the plot of this season. You know better than anyone how much of a spoiler machine he is. He gets one spoiler this time. One.”

“I might have to tape his big mouth shut,” Aelin joked. “Bet the press would eat that up.”

“Honestly, it might give them something else to yap about.” Elide straightened, one finger up as she recalled something. “Pap walk! We’re doing a round of pap walks to get their attention somewhere else. I’ll text the details, but so far…”

Elide flipped through her notes, and Aelin was about to ask a few follow-up questions when there was a rapid, firm knock on the door.

“What?”

Rowan Whitethorn cracked open the door and stepped into the room. “They’re ready for her in hair and makeup.” He scanned the room, his gaze sharp, alert. “Morning, Miss Galathynius.”

His face was perfectly neutral like it always was, making it impossible to tell if he knew anything about the new rumors. He probably did, but Rowan was so professional, it got unnerving sometimes.

“Morning, Sergeant Whitethorn.” He’d never been in the military, but she called him “Sergeant” anyway. Mostly because it made him delightfully grumpy.

True to form, he frowned, but instead of his usual snarky retort, he just held the door open for her and walked her across the hall to another room, this one full of stylists. She was swept into their whirlwind, and by the time she turned around, her bodyguard was once again outside the door, on watch for any potential mishaps. Rowan really was an excellent security guard.

Too bad he was also a highly wanted criminal.

You can get notified when I update by either turning notifications on for @mariaofdoranelle-fics or joining my (sometimes glitchy) one general tag list!!

TAG LIST

@aelinchocolatelover

@anarchiii

@autumnbabylon

@bookcide

@booksandteaonarainydayislife

@cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

@courtofjurdan

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover

@dreamer-133

@elentiyawhitethorn

@elizarikaallen

@emily-gsh

@empress-ofbloodshed

@fangirlprincess09

@fauna-flora11

@goddess-aelin

@gracie-rosee

@leiawritesstories

@lululululululuop

@mis-lil-red

@nayaniasworld

@renxzs

@rowanaelinn

@s-uppertime

@sarahjswift

@staghorn-mountains

@superspiritfestival

@swankii-art-teacher

@thegreyj

@throneofus7

@violet-mermaid7

@wishfulimaginings

[scribbles97]

The Nightmare Come True - Part 5 and The End

Thanks @loopstagirl for the original idea of this whole fic that spiralled far further than I think either of us expected. Scott's POV 1 | Part 1 | Scott's POV 2 | Part 2 | Scott's POV 3 | Part 3 | Scott's POV 4 | Part 4

Christmas had come and gone as loudly as it always did in their house. 

The best gift for Gordon was the day his oldest brother had turned up at a training session alongside Jeff, the kid hadn’t stopped talking about it for a week. Jeff had been confident Scott would soon be making his way into the pool himself, especially if his request for an olympic sized pool on their newly purchased island was anything to go by. 

John and Virgil had both returned home for the holidays full of stories and with open invites for their big brother to visit them at their respective colleges come the following semester. Scott had been keen, immediately opening his calendar and circling dates between appointments and other plans. 

Even Jen had paid a brief visit, greeting the younger brothers as old friends proving just how much Scott had spoken of them all to his squad at one point or another. 

By spring Jeff had noticed just how Scott had begun to fill out again, his time in the gym paying off and rebuilding the muscle that had been lost. He was starting to relax, to enjoy life as he once had and found the confidence he had always worn like a comfortable jacket. Gradually, he was becoming a version of the son Jeff recognised. 

March was spent in the air, racking up supervised flight hours after passing the required psych exams. It had taken time for him to be comfortable in the pilot's seat again, but Scott had said himself that being in the air was as natural to him as being in the water was for Gordon. All he had needed was a supportive shoulder, one that Jeff was willing to offer. 

By his birthday, Scott’s full pilot’s license had been reinstated, giving cause for a celebration alone without the news of John’s new Space Rated status. They had called Virgil on hologram, celebrating from their separate corners of the country louder than they had done over the festive period.

It had been late in the night when Jeff had found Scott out on the porch, a letter discarded but evidently not forgotten in his lap.

“I was going to tell you earlier, but the surprise party kind of distracted me.” Scott had smiled as Jeff had joined him on the step and poured them each a measure of whiskey.

“Cambridge offered me a spot to study English Lit, it’s all online so I’d only need to go over twice a semester so I’d still be able to--” He paused to glance over his shoulder, making sure no younger brothers were lingering in the kitchen.

Jeff had chuckled, glad that Scott was doing something for himself, something that didn’t immediately lead to any plans that had seemingly always been in place.  

“You don’t have to, you know?” He had pointed out, “If you want to take some time for yourself before joining the Project…”

Scott had shook his head, grinning as he sipped his drink, “I want to get in the air again, Dad, and that rocket? I’m not letting you have all the fun.”

Both had laughed at the implication, wordlessly reaching their glasses towards one another in a silent salute to everything they had overcome in that year alone. 

Things still weren’t perfect, Alan and Gordon were far from happy about moving to a boarding school away from their family. Scott still had a way to go before he was back at his full strength and fitness, but with the encouragement from Val and Lee, he was well on his way to outperforming them all. 

“This is what I need.” Scott had nodded, “Despite everything, I’m glad we’ve ended up here Dad.” 

Jeff had slung an arm over his shoulders and pulled him close, “Me too kid, me too.” 

Of course, it hadn’t lasted. 

A short eighteen months later, Jeff had been shot into the farthest reaches of their solar system. He had been sure that he would never see his family, his boys, again. It hadn’t mattered what he had tried with the engines, there had been no way for him to get home. He had tried, time and again to find a way to get through to them but it had eventually become apparent that all he could do was try to stay alive.

He had taken to sketching and writing when he wasn’t trying to keep himself alive, focussing on thoughts of each of his boys. How Scott was at least back doing something he loved, that John had made it to space as he had always wanted to, that Virgil was close to graduating with Honors on his engineering degree, that Gordon would have made it to the Olympics, and Alan at least had four older brothers to look out for him. It had been the thought and memory of them that had kept him going, the irony not lost on him that it had been the same things that had kept Scott going through his imprisonment. 

There had been little else to occupy him over those long years. 

He had never given up hope, not even as the planetoid had begun to separate beneath his feet, he had known they would come. 

Right at the last possible second, he had spotted Scott. 

Just like that, their roles were reversed. 

Scott had stepped up in the time Jeff had been gone, and the more he had seen of the man his eldest had become, the more his heart had hurt. 

He had dropped out of his Literature degree almost immediately after Jeff had gone, had taken up the role of commander in International rescue, and the role of Father to younger brothers that weren’t ready to be orphans. Once again, thanks to Jeff, Scott had lost sight of the man he wanted to be for himself.

Once again, Jeff had vowed to set that right.

There had been months of recovery, hospital appointments and physiotherapy, most of it familiar from the year before he had taken the unexpected trip. Scott had resolutely been at his side through all of it. 

“Alan asked how you did it…” Scott had started one night, sat out by the pool waiting for Virgil and Gordon to return home from a rescue.

Jeff hadn’t needed further clarification as he had trailed off. He’d had therapy that morning, had spent the day pulling his boys closer after talking about what the isolation had done to him. Of course, they had all picked up on it.

“I imagine much the same way as you did during the war,” Jeff admitted softly, “Thinking of your family, remembering all the good times.”

Before he had left, talking about the war had been coming easier for Scott. It hadn’t taken long for Jeff to realize that Scott had clammed up once he had no longer had his father to talk to about such times.

Scott snorted, looking out to the horizon, “Admittedly, it’s a good method.”

Jeff smiled sadly across to him, “It got us both a long way.” 

It had gotten them both back home, back to their family, to somewhere where they could find their feet again and work towards the version of themselves they wanted to be.

The man sat next to him was physically recovered from his time as a prisoner, but had never found a solid enough footing to find himself amongst all the chaos life had thrown at them.

“You didn’t end up where you were aiming, I’m sorry for that.” Jeff sighed after a moment, reaching out to Scott’s shoulder, “Because of all of this, I think you lost yourself again Scott.”

“I--” For a moment it seemed like he was ready to argue, before his shoulders had fallen and he had nodded in admission, “I became who I needed to be.”

They had shared a look, one that spoke of burdens that had fallen back on tired shoulders that had barely gotten free before being weighed back down again.

“You deserved to live life for yourself Scott.” 

Scott ran a hand through his hair, “I know that now.”

“I know it wasn’t my fault,” Jeff continued, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you see that, Son, I’m sorry that life has been so cruel and unfair.”

Scott’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m glad you don’t blame yourself.” 

Jeff would never admit to him that it was a concept he still sometimes struggled with, but something he was working on regardless. His son didn’t need any more burdens. 

“So,” He started, looking across with raised eyebrows, “Alan’s headed to college in the Fall, how about you take another look at that Literature degree?”

Scott’s laugh was full bodied against Jeff, “Yeah, I suppose that doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Laughing with his son, Jeff nodded to himself. 

They were going to be just fine.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Was suicide really seen as noble during the French Revolution? Was there any recorded tension regarding this cultural shift with more religious or less revolutionary people/groups? Thanks!

In the book La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député 1792-1795 (2015) can be found a list of all the deputies of the National Convention that died unnatural deaths between 1792 and 1799. Of the 96 names included on it, 16 were those of suicide victims, and to these must also me added a number of botched suicide attempts as well. 

Only a single one of these suicides appears to have been driven by something outside of politics, that of the deputy Charlier, who shot himself in his apartment on February 23 1797, two years after the closing of the Convention. The rest of the suicides are all very clearly politically motivated, more specifically, deputies killing themselves just as the machinery of revolutionary justice was about to catch up to them. There’s those who killed themselves while on the run and unsheltered from the hostile authorities — the girondin Rebecqui who on May 1 1794 drowned himself in Old Port of Marseille, Pétion and Buzot who on June 24 1794 shot themselves after getting forced to leave the garret where they for the last few months had been hiding out, Maure who shot himself while in hiding on 3 June 1795 after having been implicated in the revolt of 1 Prairial, Brunel, who on May 27 shot himself after failing to quell a riot in Toulon, and Tellier, who similarily shot himself on September 17 1795 due to a revolt directed against him in the commune of Chartres. Barbaroux too attempted to shoot himself on June 18 1794 but only managed to blow his jaw off. He was instead captured and guillotined. There’s those that put an end to their days once cornered by said authorities — Lidon, who on November 2 1793 shot himself after having been discovered at his hiding place by two gendarmes (he did however first fire three shots at said gendarmes, one of whom got hit in the cheek) and Le Bas who shot himself in the night between July 27 and 28 1794 as National guardsmen stormed the Hôtel de Ville where he and his allies were hiding out (according to his wife’s memoirs, already a few days before this he had told her that he would kill them both right then and there wasn’t it for the fact they had an infant son). In an interrogation held two o’clock in the morning on July 28 1794, Augustin Robespierre too revealed that the reason he a few hours earlier had thrown himself off the cordon of the Hôtel de Ville was ”to escape from the hands of the conspirators, because, having been put under a decree of accusation, he believed his death inevitable,” and there’s of course an eternal debate on whether or not his older brother too had attemped to commit suicide at Hôtel de Ville that night or if he was shot by a guard (to a lesser extent, this debate also exists regarding Couthon). There’s those who committed suicide in prison to avoid an unfriendly tribunal — Baille who hanged himself while held captive in the hostile Toulon on September 2 1793, Condorcet who took poison and was found dead in his cell in Bourg-la-Reine on 29 March 1794 (though here there exists some debate on whether it really was suicide or if he ”just” died from exhaustion) and Rühl, who stabbed himself while in house arrest on May 29 1795. On March 17 1794, Chabot tried to take his life in his cell in the Luxembourg prison by overdosing on medicine (he reported that he shouted ”vive la république” after drinking the liquor) but survived and got guillotined. Finally, there’s those who held themselves alive for the whole trial but killed themselves as soon as they heard the pronounciation of the death sentence —  the girondin Valazé who stabbed himself to death on October 30 1793 and the so called ”martyrs of prairial” Duquesnoy, Romme, Goujon, Bourbotte (in a declaration written shortly before his death he wrote: ”Virtuous Cato, no longer will it be your example alone that teaches free men how to escape the scaffold of tyranny”), Duroy and Soubrany who did the same thing on June 17 1795 (only the first three did however succeed with their suicide, the rest were executed the very same day).

To these 24 men must also be added other revolutionaries that weren’t Convention deputies, such as Jacques Roux who on February 10 1794 stabbed himself in prison, former girondin ministers Étienne Clavière who did the same thing on December 8 1793 (learning of his death, his wife killed herself as well) and Jean Marie Roland who on November 10 1793 ran a sword through his heart while in hiding, after having been informed of his wife’s execution, Gracchus Babeuf and Augustin Darthé who attempted to stab themselves on May 27 1797 after having been condemned in the so called ”conspiracy of equals,” but survived and were executed the next day, as well as two jacobins from Lyon — Hidins who killed himself in prison before the city got ”liberated,” and Gaillard who did the same thing shortly after the liberation, after having spent several weeks in jail.

With all that said, I think you could say taking your life was considered ”noble” in a way, if it allowed you to die with greater dignity than letting the imposition of revolutionary judgement take it instead did. It was at least certainly a step up compared to before 1789, when suicide (through the Criminal Ordinance of 1670) was considered a crime which could lead to confiscation of property, opprobium cast on the victim’s family and even subjection of the courpse to various outrages, like dragging it through the street. To nuance this a bit, it is however worth recalling that this was only in theory, and that in practise, most of these penalties had ceased to be carried out already in the decades before the revolution, a period during which suicide, in the Enlightenent’s spirit of questioning everything, had also started getting discussed more and more. The word ”suicide” itself entered the French dictionary in 1734. Most of the enlightenment philosophes reflected on suicide and the ethics behind it. There’s also the widely spread The Sorrows of Young Werther that was first released in 1774. Furthermore, most revolutionaries were also steeped in the culture of Antiquity, where suicide was seen as an admirable response to political defeat, perhaps most notably those of Brutus and Cato the younger, big heroes of the revolutionaries. Over the course of the revolution, we find several patriotic artists depicting famous suicides of Antiquity — such as Socrates (whose death is considered by some to have been a sort of suicide) (1791) by David, The Death of Cato of Utica (1795) by Guillaume Guillon-Lethière, and The death of Caius Gracchus (1798) by François Topino-Lebrun. According to historian Dominique Godineau, the 18th century saw ”the inscription [of suicide] in the social landscape, at least in large cities: it has become “public,” people talk about it, it is less hidden than at the beginning of the century,” and she therefore argues that the decision to decriminalize it in the reformed penal code (it didn’t state outright that suicide was now OK, but it no longer listed it as a crime) of 1791 wasn’t particulary controversial.

Furthermore, that committing suicide was more noble than facing execution was still far from an obvious, universal truth during the revolution. In his memoirs, Brissot does for example recall that, right after the insurrection of May 31, when he and other ”girondins” discussed what to do was an act of accusation to be issued against them, Buzot argued that ”the death on the scaffold was more courageous, more worthy for a patriot, and especially more useful for the cause of liberty” than committing suicide to avoid it. The feared news of their act of accusation did however arrive before the girondins had reached a definitive conclusion on what to do, leading to some fleeing (among them Buzot, who of course ironically ended up being one of the revolutionaries that ultimately chose suicide over the scaffold) and some calmly awaiting their fate. In her memoirs, Madame Roland did her too consider going to the scaffold with her head held high to be an act of virtue — ”Should I wait for when it pleases my executioners to choose the moment of my death and to augment their triumph by the insolent clamours of the mob to which I would be exposed? Certainly!” In his very last speech to the Convention, convinced that his enemies were rounding up on him, Robespierre exclaimed he would ”drink the hemlock,” a reference to the execution of Socrates. The girondin Vergniaud is also said to have carried poison on him but chosen to have go out with his friends on the scaffold, although I’ve not yet discovered what the source for this is. It can also be noted that the number of Convention deputies who let revolutionary justice have its course with them was still considerably higher than those who attempted to put an end to their days before the sentence could be carried out.

According to Patterns and prosecution of suicide in eighteenth-century Paris (1989) by Jeffrey Merrick, there was indeed tension regarding the rising amount of suicides in the decades leading up to the revolution. Merrick cites first and foremost the printer and bookseller Siméon Prosper Hardy, who in his journal Mes loisirs ou journal des evenements tels qu'ils parviennent a ma connaissance (1764-1789),  documented a total of 259 cases of Parisian suicides. Hardy saw these deaths as an unwelcome import from the English, who for their part were led to kill themselves due to ”the dismal climate, unwholesome diet, and excessive liberty.” He also blamed the suicides on "the decline of religion and morals," caused by the philosophes, who in their ”bad books” popularized English ways of thinking and undermined traditional values. He was not alone in drawing a connection between the suicides and the new ideas. According to Merrick, the clergy in general ”denounced the philosophes for legitimizing this unforgiveable crime against God and society, which they now associated with systematic unbelief more than the traditional diabolical temptation.” In practice, many parish priests did however still quietly bury the bodies of persons who killed themselves. The future revolutionary Louis Sébastien Mercier did on the other hand blame the government and its penchant for inflated prices and burdensome taxes for the alleged epidemic of suicides in his Tableau de Paris (1782-1783).

In La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député, 1792-1795 it is also established that there weren’t that many participants of the king that killed themselves once the wind started blowing in the wrong direction, but that is not to say they didn’t exist. As example is cited the case of a man who in April 1793 shot himself on Place de la Révolution, before having written ”I die for you and your family” on a gravure representing the head of Louis XVI. There’s also the case of Michel Peletier’s murderer Philippe Nicolas Marie de Pâris, royalist and former king’s guard, who, similar to Lidon, blew his brains out when the authorities had him cornered a week after the murder.

Sources:

Patterns and prosecution of suicide in eighteenth-century Paris (1989) by Jeffrey Merrick 

Pratiques du suicide à Paris pendant la Révolution française by Dominique Godineau

La liberté ou la mort: mourir en député, 1792-1795 (2015) by Michel Biard, chapter 5, ”Mourir en Romain,” le choix de suicide.

Choosing Terror (2014) by Marisa Linton, page 276-279, section titled ”Choosing how to die.”

[accio-sriracha]

The Scars Kept Hidden

A snippet from an unpublished drarry fic

Okay... @bradleysass won, I'm releasing my wip arsenal. (Definitely not just because it's easier content than actually finishing these wips...)

Enjoy this snippet from an eighth year drarry fic!!

"Where have you been?" Pansy demanded as he entered the common room, "You do realise how late it is, don't you?"

Draco waved a hand dismissively, "They aren't enforcing curfew on Eighth years, you know that."

"C'mon, Dray." Blaise sighed, standing up from his armchair, "We were worried. Where were you?"

"I was with Potter." Draco conceded, only because he knew they probably were worried.

With the amount of people out to get him, he had to be extra careful not to go out alone.

"You were with Potter?" Pansy repeated slowly, "Are you okay?"

He knew what she meant by that. Despite the concern in her eyes, he knew she was asking what he did to him.

"Oh, for the love of Salazar. I am capable of being around him without hexing him, you know?"

Pansy held up her hands, "Alright. I'm sorry." She shared a look with Blaise, "Did anything... was anything said?" She asked.

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "No, we stuck to handwritten notes the whole time, actually." He quipped.

"You know what I mean. About the- About the trial?"

This made Draco freeze, he hadn't been expecting that question,

"What about it?" He asked quietly.

"Did he say anything at all about it? About who he might have spoken for?" Blaise asked, hesitating, "Or against?"

Suddenly it all made sense. The way they were looking at him like some sort of wounded puppy. how they stayed up waiting for him to get back.

He let out an irritated laugh, dripping with venom,

"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe I didn't think to ask! Maybe next time the two of us are having a friendly chat about the war that traumatised an entire population of people, I'll be sure to bring it up. Maybe I'll even ask about his parents next, or what it was like being dead!" He snapped, turning around and marching towards the boy's dormitories.

He ignored Pansy calling after him, ignored the knocking at the door and the quiet apologies.

He couldn't believe they thought he would actually ask something like that, as if he and Potter were just dying to rehash some of the worst moments of their lives.

Draco stayed awake for a long time, his head swimming with thoughts of Harry Potter.

He couldn't help it, the way Potter had treated him like they were friends.

He knew it was only temporary, they had acted that way when they were alone, but Draco knew the glares and sarcastic comments would be back within the first five minutes of actually having class together.

"Draco?" Blaise's voice drifted through the darkness of their room late that night.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you'll finally let Potter go this year?" He asked.

"Let him go?" Draco repeated, "How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Dray." He whispered.

The knowing tone of his voice made Draco's heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid I don't, actually." He replied, attempting in vain to keep the defensive tone out of his own voice.

"Alright. Just..." He paused. Draco sat up and looked at him, his expression was worried even through the darkness, "Just try not to get hurt, yeah?" He asked.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Potter couldn't hurt me even if I was standing still and unarmed."

Blaise just shook his head quietly, a defeated sigh that said all too much falling from his lips, "Goodnight, Dray." He whispered.

"Night, Blaise." Draco turned over, pulling the covers up past his shoulders.

He couldn't remember the last time Blaise had been that serious with him and it unnerved him greatly.

He tried not to think of the implications as he drifted off to sleep.

[wandringaesthetic]

ugh okay

Netflix Castlevania Nocturne season 2 trailer commentary and rampant speculation:

(mostly about Alucard we all have our faves)

I love how he's animated. He is so still most of the time. Not that he can't move incredibly fast, but there is no wasted movement, does not flinch, at all, ever, facial expressions are certainly there (his little smile when he mentions Trevor, cut out my fucking heart Sam Deats et al), but very subtle. He sounds so much more sedate than he does in the other series, but the dry humor is certainly still there (who are you to call anyone sarcastic, sir?). He has seen and lost so much. Nothing surprises him. Nothing is worth any wasted effort. The impression of incredible age and weariness.

As ever, I like the fact that he is supposed to be incredibly strong but it's usually depicted in a very understated manner, like this has been true since season 1 but it took until it was drawn attention to in season 3 for me to notice he has been wielding a longsword like it's a rapier this entire damn time.

He is literally sitting like an old man exactly like those two football players in that video. What? I'm comfy. Sort of like a bat, too.

He is kind of giving me death flags??? Like more or less saying to Richter that he's got to finish the job if he can't (the reverse of Symphony of the Night where Alucard has to finish it because Richter couldn't and oooooooooo are we going to get evil/possessed/"master of the castle" Richter I must KNOW) A character like Alucard is difficult because he's OP and isn't technically a main character (anymore) so one way to solve him overshadowing the actual main characters is KILL HIM. Also, being passively suicidal in Symphony of the Night is kind of Alucard's whole thing. Like, Again, overanalyzing the 30 seconds he's in in the last season. Stating he has a kill count in the hundreds thousands?? Big if true. He's been spending most of the last 300 years killing vampires. Castlevania vamps are generally not portrayed as obligate evil and he's often defensive/admiring of vampires in series 1. What happened? (I do not like the most obvious potential answer to this. Like, I won't hate it if that's what happened but agh I want him to have had one happy lifetime, at least. Especially if we, again, take inspiration from Symphony and have him fighting their shades/reanimated corpses. Like. I would love/hate that.)

Are we ever going to explain Maria's powers in any way? If we have evil/possessed Richter I do very much like the idea of her marching in to save him.

maybe the single frame here that intrigues me most is Olrox holding back Mizrak. Toxic bara is back, baby. Perhaps it never left.

I am intrigued re: what we're doing with Juste, because, hmm, the Juste/Lydie/Maxim situationship is more or less the same as the Cecil/Rosa/Kain situationship, yes? But we got the bad ending where Lydie and Maxim are dead or worse and Juste probably killed Maxim. Like if y'all had just accepted the homoerotic rivalry as homoerotic maybe you would not be so weak to demonic possession/brainwashing/whatever and it probably wouldn't have to be like this. In contrast with the might-as-well-be-canon trephacard polycule. As ever, I'm fascinated by the implications of something that is probably never going to play out on screen. Aren't we all.

I'm glad Drolta's back, she was fun. She's the sort of character that doesn't need a reason to be back because she didn't have all that strong a reason to exist in the first place she's 99% vibes and that's ok. (though oh. ohhhhhhh. she's the succubus analogue. let's torment alucard with illusory hellworld, yes?)

[imakemywings]

Pressing on to the Children of Hurin novel, and highlighting some more favorite quotes:

"Ever in the forefront of that battle went Gwindor and the folk of Nargothrond, and even now they could not be restrained; and they burst through the outer gates and slew the guards within the very courts of Angband; and Morgoth trembled upon his deep throne, hearing them beat upon his doors." (The Battle of Unnumbered Tears)

FUCK YES. Gwindor sure does suffer for his impulsivity but before that he made Melkor quake in his fucking boots hearing the troops of Nargothrond at his door. I think it's key to Melkor's characterization to remember that he is, at heart, a massive fucking coward. Any time the odds are not firmly in his favor he gets flighty, as when he wants to refuse Fingolfin's challenge, and here, and in how he refuses to come forth from Angband but sends his troops out instead and directs them from his fortress only.

"In the morning came hope, for the horns of Turgon were heard, as he marched up with the main host of Gondolin; for Turgon had been stationed southward guarding the passes of Sirion, and he had restrained most of his folk from the rash onslaught."

Just interesting that the Gondolindrim alone are singled out as having been held back from Gwindor's early charge.

"Now the phalanx of the guard of the King broke through the ranks of the Orcs, and Turgon hewed his way to the side of his brother. And it is said that the meeting of Turgon with Hurin who stood beside Fingon was glad in the midst of the battle."

Everything's about to go to shit but at least Turgon and Hurin get to have a little reunion + the last moments Turgon will ever speak with Fingon :')

"'Not long now can Gondolin remain hidden, and being discovered it must fall,' said Turgon. 'Yet if it stands only a little while,' said Huor, 'then out of your house shall come the hope of Elves and Men. This I say to you, lord, with the eyes of death: though we part here for ever, and I shall not look on your white walls again, from you and from me a new star shall arise. Farewell!' Maeglin, Turgon's sister-son, who stood by, heard these words and did not forget them.

This whole exchange is sooo interesting..foresight moment for Huor? Maeglin guessing Huor refers to Turgon's grandchild (with the implication they will be half-Man)?

"Great was the triumph of Morgoth, though all the purposes of his malice were not yet accomplished. One thought troubled him deeply and marred his victory with unquiet: Turgon had escaped his net, of all his foes the one whom he had most desired to take or destroy."

Melkor's obsession with Turgon is always interesting and must be related to some foresight or foreboding on Melkor's part about Earendil and the role he'll play in Melkor's overthrow. It would seem odd to everyone else, I think, for Melkor's fixation to be not on Fingon, who was the high king going into the battle, but on his younger brother who no one's seen in years.

"For Turgon of the great House of Fingolfin was now by right King of all the Noldor; and Melkor feared and hated the House of Fingolfin, because they had scorned him in Valinor and had the friendship of Ulmo his foe; and because of the wounds that Fingolfin gave him in battle. And most of all Morgoth feared Turgon, for of old in Valinor his eye had lighted on him, and whenver he drew near a dark shadow had fallen on his spirit, foreboding that in some time that yet lay hidden in doom, from Turgon ruin should come to him."

What do we think Elf-friends, is the house of Fingolfin rejecting Melkor even in Valinor meant to stand in opposition to perhaps the house of Feanor's take? I do think it's interesting that nowhere in the Nirnaeth does Melkor seem especially interested in the Feanorians, except in how he can use them to effect his victory in this one battle.

Also, cackling at the idea of Melkor not wanting to hang around Turgon because his vibes are just too bad. Melkor saying "that dude has rancid vibes" like agjkjkgb

Ruin is coming you big loser.

"But when they bade Turin turn and look back upon the house of his father, then the anguish of parting smote him like a sword, and he cried: 'Morwen, Morwen, when shall I see you again?' But Morwen standing on her threshold heard the echo of that cry in the wooded hills, and she clutched the post of the door so that her fingers were torn." (The Departure of Turin)

This is one of those Morwen quotes that just lives with me. She's often blunt and cold with her son Turin and does not seem possessed of much loving maternal energy, and she pretty abruptly sends him away once she decides it's the best thing to do, but watching Turin ride away she grips the door frame so hard she tears skin on her fingers. Clearly, this is not someone unaffected by having to say goodbye to her child, nor someone unafraid about what may be coming for them. It's such a subtle but deep indication of how much Morwen actually feels vs. how little she shows.

And of course everything about Thingol's fostering of Turin:

"...and Thingol received them kindly, and set Turin upon his knee in honour of Hurin, mightiest of Men, and of Beren his kinsman. And those that saw this marvelled, for it was a sign that Thingol took Turin as his foster-son; and that was not at that time done by kings, nor ever again by Elf-lord to a Man. Then Thingol said to him: 'Here, son of Hurin, shall your home be; and in all your life you shall be held as my son, Man though you be. Wisdom shall be given you beyond the measure of mortal Men, and the weapons of Elves shall be set in your hands. Perhaps the time may come when you shall regain the lands of your father in Hithlum; but dwell now here in love.'"

The only time a Man was ever fostered by a lord of the Elves! Dwell now hear in love! You shall be held as my son! I'm going insane.

"Now Thingol had in Menegroth deep armouries filled with great wealth of weapons...Yet Thingol handled the Helm of Hador as though his hoard were scanty, and he spoke courteous words, saying 'Proud were the head that bore this helm, which the sires of Hurin bore.'"

Morwen sends the Helm to Thingol in response to his lavish gifts to her and invitation to come and join Turin in Doriath, but Thingol turns it immediately over to Turin and tells him Morwen sent it to Turin as a gift of the family heirlooms.

Especially in comparison with Silm where characters often feel more like sketches than people, the characterizations in CoH are so rich and deep it feels so much like these are real people. It has been such an interesting read so far, eager to get to more.

[obsessedwithlute]

Cherrisnake lover here! Can we see what a first date might be like for them?

I am certain that by this ask, you did not mean "Modern AU where Emily pays for their whole date because she's sick of seeing them dance around each other for years and they go see Hamilton".

Alas, I cannot control myself.

Contains swearing, queerphobia (specifically transphobia), slander of religion, people using religion as an excuse to discriminate and possible implications of child abuse and anxiety.

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

Pentious’s hands were shaking as he stood at Cherri’s apartment door, trying to work up the courage to knock. I’m still five minutes early, he told himself. I’ve got time. He clutched the bag with two priceless tickets to Hamilton inside, reminding himself that Cherri had agreed to this and he had planned it to perfection and really, what’s the worst that could happen? Hmm, I don’t know. I could be humiliated forever and cry myself to sleep for the next month.

Cherri doesn’t like cowards. She’s into bravery and all that. I’m only lowering my chances by hiding out here.

Pentious lightly banged his fist against Cherri’s door and waited for a few seconds that felt like eternity.

The door clicked open and Cherri stood in front of him, lightly smirking. Don’t blush don’t blush don’t- Goddamnit, he could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. After some awkward silence, Pentious uncovered in himself the otherworldly determination it took to whisper, “Hi.”

He cursed himself.

“I mean, um- hello!” he blurted. Stop stop stop code red you are actively making this worse-

“Hello to you too,” Cherri responded, a sarcastic but kind smile stretching across her face. She grabbed Pentious by the arm and dragged him into her apartment. He fumbled in his bag for the tickets and handed one to Cherri.

“H-here,” he stammered. “Please don’t think this is, like… too much for a first date… Emily gave me the tickets so…” Jesus Christ, Pentious what are you thinking don’t tell her that!!!

“Are you kidding me?? You know I love musicals, don’t apologize… But you will be sitting through my terrible Angelica impression on the way back so… just wanted to warn you.” Cherri smirked again.

Pentious smiled. “I am well known in my friend group for my horrid George Washington voice.”

Cherri nodded and turned her back to remove her coat from the hook it sat on. “Hm, well I must say I find horrid George Washington voices very sexy.” Before Pentious could respond to that, she held up a finger and hissed, “I said what I said.”

Cherri and Pentious walked to the subway station and after a twenty-minute wait due to some hold-up, collapsed into the comfortable train seats.

Pentious reached in his pocket for the cards he had prepared. The first read, in last night’s tired, drunk scrawling ASK HER FAVORITE COLOR.

He obeyed himself, turned to Cherri, and asked, “What’s your favorite color?” 

“Red, you know, like blood,” she said absentmindedly. “Why?”

“Oh, um no reason, just, you know, get to you know shit and all that, even though I mean, like, we've been friends for years, I should probably know your… OH FUCK! I mean, dammit! Um- Sorry for swearing… There are little children here… fuck it…”

“You’re capable of swearing?” Cherri asked incredulously. “You seem so… innocent… like one of those people who apologizes for saying, like, heck.”

“Um… it’s something that I accidentally do whenever I’m nervous- I try to work on it but often fail, and you’re referring to Emily, not me.”

“Don’t remind me…”

“Of the time she basically got on her knees and begged forgiveness for saying gosh?”

“Blame her upbringing,” Cherri scoffed. “And Sera. And the church.”

“Mostly the church,” Pentious agreed.

“A-hem,” a brunette woman coughed from across the train. She stood up and began to march over towards Cherri and Pentious. “I will not hear the good god-fearing community slandered in the vicinity of my young, impressionable children. And I will certainly not tolerate that propaganda pinned to your shirt, ma’am.” She pointed to the transgender flag and he/him pins on Pentious’s shirt, clearly taking a look at his visible hips.

Cherri stood up. “Hello, what are your name and pronouns?” she asked, a fake-sweet smile on her face.

“I have very strong words to say to you, but unlike you young miscreants, I won’t allow them to taint my mouth,” she said.

A second woman, this one in a leather jacket, left the herd of children the brunette had been ushering on the train and stepped next to her. “Sis, we both know your mouth is already tainted. And if you can’t stand these people insulting your ‘good community’ in front of your impressionable children, why don’t you go spend some time with those children, instead of just insulting their clothing like you have all night?”

The brunette turned to leave, but before she did so, she eyed Cherri, Pentious and her sister, and told them, “You should ask God for forgiveness.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off.

“I am so sorry,” the woman in leather said. “She was completely out of line.” “Please make sure she doesn’t rub off on those kids too much,” Cherri told her at the same time Pentious said, “Forget about us, just worry about those poor children.” The woman smiled. “You too are such a cute couple- don’t worry; I’m not making some stupid ‘people of opposite genders in public- ooh, they must be dating’ assumption. You’re just obviously compatible!”

“Oh, um, well-” Pentious blushed. Again. Fuck.

“It’s just our first date,” Cherri finished.

“I see,” the woman in leather said, nodding. She removed a small notebook and pen from her pocket, ripped out a page and scribbled something on it.

She handed it to them and smiled. “Here’s my number. Call me when you get engaged so I can show up at your wedding.” “Our what?” Cherri demanded. The woman just smiled and left.

After their stop was called, Cherri and Pentious looked at each other, simultaneously shrugged and just laughed.

Suddenly, Pentious gasped. “We’re going to be late, we need to fucking run!”

“Okay, then let’s run!” Cherri yelled, grabbing Pentious by the wrist again and basically dragging them out of the station.

Once they’d finally made it to the theater and dodged death a few times, Pentious was gasping and Cherri was barely breaking a sweat.

“How… are you… so fast?” he demanded between breaths.

“I did cross-country in high school. Come on, we can’t miss anything!!” she yelled.

Finally, they managed to make it to the theater and settled into their seats. Somewhere between “The Schuyler Sisters” and “Right Hand Man”, Cherri and Pentious’s hands found each other.

After the show, Cherri and Pentious bought pretty much their weight in Hamilton merch (Emily was sponsoring their whole date, anyway, what did it matter?) and called an Uber- they were not in the mood for another wonderful subway experience.

Waiting in the dark, they talked about a lot of things they just hadn’t had time to discuss before, smiled, laughed, and got a little emotional.

Their Uber arrived and dropped Cherri off at her house, then drove Pentious the rest of the way to his.

The next morning, Pentious’s phone lit up with one text from Cherri: So, what flavor cake should we have? Wouldn’t want to let the cool aunt down.

[tabr1-s]

aventurine rant and personal critiques about 2.1's writing below

(to preface... i am biased towards Sunday and his plight, and firmly against the IPC and their plans concerning retaking Penacony. but that's not to say that i support the Family as a whole either.)

why was 80% of the 2.1 quest about Aventurine? isn't that what character stories and companion quests are for?

to begin, the first thing that bothered me was how the game seemed to want the player to believe that Aventurine's offer wasn't forced. examples below:

although it... was forced. you can tell him that you won't associate with the IPC and he will tell you not to worry about it, and just "reconsider it" by talking to your companions (mainly the Navigator, Himeko) at the express (basically implying that our opinion does not matter to him in the slightest). dialogue below:

(now i don't know if it's my personal hatred for being controlled and told what to do that's making me see this differently... but i have talked this over with a friend of mine and they do agree that it Does seem forced. i might be putting myself in an echo chamber by doing this, but at least i'm not alone!)

my point with the above is that the game tries to get you to sympathize with Aventurine from the beginning, and forces your hand when it comes to agreeing to his proposal by making some - frankly - stupid excuses as to why we should trust him. maybe others found them to be convincing/enough, but to me it just seemed like a cheap way to get the story rolling. (also, since when did we become pawns of the IPC? Penacony's debt is none of our business, and, not to get political... but it reminds me of real life sentiments that colonialist people hold about countries that "belonged to them in the past", despite that country having years of history and development since/before then (and i do not care if that country's political system is corrupt, or that they have unpaid debt. that is not an excuse to bring about war and occupation.). also, i sincerely hate how Aventurine wasn't even hiding that he views Robin's death as an opportunity, or, in his words, a "bargaining chip". we're made to sympathize with him and his dead family but he can't read the room and show some genuine sympathy himself, can he?)

...so the story goes on. we get some Welt and Acheron bits, a bit of Black Swan, and some investigation on the front of Himeko, March 7th, and the trailblazer. then the focus falls back on Aventurine. but, for the time being, it's fine - because at least he's alongside Dr. Ratio and their bickering is entertaining.

which leads to the scene where Sunday confronts Aventurine. yes, Sunday is manipulative. he begins by praising Aventurine and buttering him up, seemingly trying to get Aventurine to lower his guard. but let's not forget that Aventurine is also being manipulative - using Sunday's recent close family death as leverage for his own schemes. Sunday knows this, and so calls upon the help of Xipe, the Harmony, to bring the truth to light.

now, Sunday doesn't outright warn him about the consequences of not answering or answering falsely, but the implication is there. Sunday gives Aventurine a chance to come clean. and what does Aventurine do? he lies, basically securing his own fate like that. another example of Sunday giving Aventurine a chance to admit the truth was here:

"it's your last chance to defend your honor". up until the point where he gave Aventurine the box, Aventurine had countless chances to stop betting with his life and do the simplest thing - answer truthfully. but he didn't. so, my question is: why does all the blame fall on Sunday when it was Aventurine who got himself into that predicament in the first place? it also gets implied multiple times that Aventurine wanted that conclusion all along...

...which leads me to the next topic. people viewing him as this "genius mastermind" - when in reality, he's no more than a self-destructive gambler that simply puts faith in his good luck to lead him to the conclusion that he wants. and, honestly? that seems like a very immature mentality to me. there's nothing admirable about him risking it all time and time again, and i'm not sure why exactly i'm meant to sympathize with that part of him. also...

don't be a hypocrite yourself, Aventurine. you also lied and was planning to manipulate from the beginning - them expecting the truth from you shouldn't come as a surprise.

now, i'm not going to fully go into the 2 or so hours of pure Aventurine³ content (or, as my friend put it, "exposition vomit"), other than saying that his story could've definitely been told in a much more concise manner than what we got. i mean, good for the Aventurine fans out there, i'm happy for them. but, writing-wise, that was pretty out of place. in comparison, Acheron's backstory only got implied, and was kept mostly a mystery. you can only find bits and pieces of Sunday and Robin's upbringing by reading the letter Robin sent to her brother, and observing the "concert for two" lightcone in that same room. Firefly says some things about her condition and spends a significant part of the 2.0 quest with Trailblazer, but at least the main character is part of that story. Aventurine's case seemed like a blatant pity party from the writers - from the beginning of 2.1 til the end. now i'm not saying that his backstory isn't tragic; the first time i played through the story i sympathized with him. it was heartbreaking. but that genuinely could've been saved for a companion quest.

another thing i thought was out of place was Aventurine's hatred for the Family. seeing his backstory, i believed that they were leading up to the Family being somehow responsible for his rough upbringing/period of slavery, so that was Aventurine enacting his revenge on them. but that was... not the case. instead, he's only(?) doing this for the IPC, with no true motivation of his own. in other words, why is he trying to bring the Family down so avidly? i'm not convinced that his reasons are good enough for him to cause so much chaos to a nation/organization that has nothing to do with him. if it is purely because of the IPC's whims, then that is not very "free will" of him.

despite all my qualms, i don't hate Aventurine. the Penacony characters are hard to hate in general, for they're all intriguing in their own ways. but i do think i've been a bit too over-exposed to him. maybe i'd go as far as to say that he was overhyped - they could've handled his story better, and not simply thrown everything they had for him in one singular questline right before his release. personally, even with the characters that i have biases towards, i would prefer for their stories to be told through character stories, companion quests, texts, and readables. that way, you find out about the character on your own volition without it feeling forced. and, if their backstories are relevant to the main storyline, you can easily make it brief and showcase what's, well...

relevant.

[compacflt]

you're a legend for referencing lauren berlant and michael warner in relation to your top gun fic and I'd like to think that they would say the same!! the stories that you've created are beautiful explorations of some of the biggest questions posed in queer theory: who are we in public? who are we in private? where is the line that separates the two (spoiler: there is no way to actually separate the two, no binary) and what are the structural forces bearing down upon all of that bullshit! I for one would love to see your questions about privacy and respectability explored with rooster and ice and mav. especially considering the generational cliff between them, with the aids crisis in the background of rooster's childhood when they were all the closest, in your world. anyway! you are an incredible writer and it's been a privilege to read you work :)

thank you so much for this ask!! yes i have spent so much time thinking about this. In March i started working on a new-yorker-style interview that tried to address a bunch of these questions. Since I didn’t do wip wednesday yesterday (sorry) here’s some relevant sections of that wip related to your ask. I don’t think it’s spoilers since I’m not sure id ever post this anywhere—you can see for yourself how entertaining the writing is and it’s overly political and didactic. Just a lame hegelian dialectic where im interrogating my own characters (at least, my own interpretations of them) on their politics. And I’m not an expert on any of this stuff (currently on the slow uphill climb out of the valley of the dunning-kruger graph—trying to learn). Nor am I fact-checking it & that feels irresponsible to post For Real. so just take this post as a fun (for me) exploration of what i (20y.o., ignorant, no editorial oversight, smooth-brained) think Might be some political implications of my fics, trying to write from a lib-moderate pov (tough!)

talking points I wanted to address:

The politics of ice’s career, both internationally & domestically (some wild navy scandals happened under his “tenure” [fat Leonard most pressingly—would LOVE to know how actual TGM’s ice & mav felt about that bc it was SO FUCKING CRAZY, navy officers & admirals having wild sex parties paid for by a singapore defense contractor (the details are so fucking crazy i can’t even say them here—one anecdote involves 7th fleet officers using WWII/Korean war general macarthurs historical memorabilia during sex acts—go read about it) a couple PACFLT RDMLs were charged with actual crimes, 60 admirals (of the navys total 160 admirals) were under investigation & both my and TGM’s ice & cyclone would probably have been two of them, basically if you were a pacflt officer in the mid-2000s-2010s you were under investigation it was so fucking wild]) —and another geopolitical look at the implications of both top gun movies (reagan weighs in from beyond the grave)

Ice and mav who can’t win—they want their relationship to Not Be A Big Deal. leave us alone. We’re Normal. we’re not Weird or anything. —but can’t understand WHY their relationship is so sensational/political—yes, boys, it is a big deal, sorry!! mavericks probably the last Ace the world will ever see & ice is the secretary of the navy and they’re married, fuck yes that’s newsworthy!!!

my version of Ice acceding to SECNAV at the intersection of a couple crucial contextual moments for the navy/military as a whole: 1. Recruitment is currently fucked. This interview takes place in 2020/early 2021, and things were bad then, but the numbers just came out for the Navy this year, and hoooooly shit they are so bad. And blame is falling along partisan lines like always: Ds blame low recruitment numbers on lack of benefits etc, Rs literally i am not shitting you are mostly blaming low recruitment numbers on the military going Woke. The USN has long been seen as the most obnoxiously woke/gay (derogatory) service to conservatives & there’s a lot of political baggage that comes with having a SECNAV who, while not openly identifying as gay, is openly married to another man. especially with a recruiting crisis like this one. 2. Withdrawal from afghanistan obviously. kind of a shit way for ice to end his career ngl. It Did Not Go Super Well. 3. rising tensions in eastern europe pre RU-UA invasion in 2022, what that means for the MIC and procurement, etc. 4. The joint chiefs openly declaring they (& by extension the military as a whole) would not support trump’s coup attempt post-J6—the end of that extremely politically polarized presidency—what does it mean for the following Dem president to then have a gay secnav after that? It’s HUGE. SO no matter what, Ice as SECNAV is going to go down in history. He just wants it to be for his actions, not the fact that he’s gay.

Icemav’s relationship with their identities. We really really don’t want to be known for being gay. “Ask me what my proudest achievement is, I’ll tell you without a second of hesitation—my family. Without a doubt. But does any military man really want to be best-known for his marriage?” We want to be known for being the BEST at our jobs, which we are. We’ve earned that title! There’s so much more interesting stuff about us than who we got married to.

AND how that is a liberal-moderate-conservative median-50% meritocratic WET DREAM of an ideology. an interview like this one is a straight fluff piece pre-ice’s confirmation to secnav—it lets him prove to the moderate liberals that he’s left-leaning enough to protect social justice interests in the USN, AND prove to conservatives that he’s right-leaning enough to not let identity politics/“woke bs” get in the way of the navy’s mission of providing a lethal maritime fighting force. the merits of this ideology are up for debate.

maybe helping the conservative viewpoint of that ideology: The fact that the Kazansky-Mitchell-Bradshaw-seresin family is so not-stereotypically gay. Like, look at these four guys. 9-to-11 combat kills between them (11 in my universe where ice gets an extra 2, 9 canon confirmed) in a period of history/modern warfare when ANY air-to-air kill is/was massively historically significant. Extremely macho & tough. They present themselves about as traditionally and toxically masculine as you could possibly get. Theyve KILLED PEOPLE. They’re not “soft” by any stretch of the imagination. Physically & emotionally they ARE extremely conservative, and there’s something to be said about the politics of that too—molding yourself into the shape of what you think a man should look like, just to avoid persecution, and then performing masculinity BETTER than even the men who would want to persecute you…!

Related to your ask: the modern/young ppl inclination to make sexuality SO political and public. When asked how he could reckon with joining a DADT-ruled navy, rooster answers: “hope I could do something to destroy it before it could destroy me.” When asked why he DIDNT use any of his considerable power to influence the repeal of DADT, ice answers: “it was better than the blanket ban that came before it. And maybe I’ve always wanted neither to tell nor to be asked.” the conservative respectable opinion that your intimate relationships ought to be PRIVATE, doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight—just do your job, and preferably do it well. yeah, don’t ask and don’t tell. It’s not anyone’s business. ice doesn’t have a philosophical problem with DADT, because he agrees sexuality should be private & secret. —is it anyone’s business? whose business is it? How much of your personal life do you owe the public if you’re a public-facing individual like the COMPACFLT or SECNAV? all good questions!!!!

[rounderhouse]

SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE. It's Time.

The Man in the White Suit series could be read as an allegory for war and how that so deeply fucks up everyone involved IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—

Part 1 of this mess of a ramble!! General Thematics! This series fuckin loves using this shit as a backdrop. Fritz Obermeyer essentially sells his soul to the Nobody entity in the trenches of war, Chiaroscuro is ENTIRELY backdropped to World War (I think?) II, throughout SCP-5353 they’re a busting a German war criminal, exposing corruption, causing riots, and trying to locate things related to WWII (also a handful of other stuff in that file can def contribute to the allegory but to save adding like two more paragraphs I don't know how much the tumblr ask system can handle) in their search for Fritz if I'm recalling properly. AND I don’t remember if it’s Whitesuit or Nobody but ONE OF THEM explicitly refers to their conflict with the other AS A WAR. THEY CALL IT A WAR.

Next up? SCP-5877, just in general. When I fiiirst read this series last year this entry had briefly confused me before I realized they’re meant to be people the Nobody entity chewed the identities of like a particularly destructive dog and then abandoned once it was done with them. HOWEVER they also really contributed to this whole reading as an allegory. They’re a large chunk of population who can’t be perceived until they turn up DEAD. Twin stillborns when there was only one child detected (nnnoot even getting into the implications behind THAT), bodies in a plane crash strapped overtop of other passengers. It’s eerie. The whole intro part of that article is incredibly unsettlingly but similarly tragic. They’re people. They are people caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s little war. Their nature makes them naught but nameless and faceless statistics. Numbers on a spreadsheet. They are causality to a conflict they did not wish for. And in their deaths they are reduced to nothing but a number. Causalities. Like a ticking toll of deaths in war. A cruel price that those fighting will either seldom acknowledge, or deny. I can go further and point out they were “drafted” by an entity beyond their understanding to be a puppet. A foot soldier in it’s eldritch quest for what it claims to be a greater good. But what happens to a puppet when the strings are suddenly cut? When their “purpose” comes to curtain call? They are lost. They are scared. They are never the same.

Another point for this reading of the story is Fritz in the coda and this builds off of the last bit. He’s free from the Nobody entity but he’s,,,, out of time. Displaced. He’s a man from the god damn 1930s the narration remarks how he's probably the only man from his time STILL ALIVE. Its the fucking 2070s. Everything that man knows is GONE and CHANGED and he is scared and alone and confused and hey this sounds like what happens when people return from WAR. No longer in touch with what's happening, and ungodly levels of traumatized by what they’ve endured— never the same. Fritz, honey, please seek therapy. Actually all of them should. Please guys. Holy shit. 

To harken back to the coda again there's a line that goes “There didn’t have to be a grand plan, an artful ending. Just the march of life.” There’s no glory, there’s no final fight of confrontation, at the end of the day it's just people — it’s just scared, manipulated people trying to fight for SOMETHING to give themselves meaning after tragedy stripped them of all they are. 

And hell, what is Whitesuit if not an amalgam of a handful of 5877 instances that came together and wanted to fight against the horrid thing that made them the way they are. He is a literal embodiment of destruction that Nobody leaves in its wake, like a wraith or ghost. Fitting for a man dressed in white. He is an angry, mourning entity lashing out in hopes of stopping what’s happened to him (them?) from happening to more people- but in the process is just fanning flames. The retaliation sparks war. The creation of a century spanning cycle of violence and revenge.

To make a similar point to the paragraph about the SCP-5877 instances, the Maliz family too are caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s fight against each other. And it's implied to occur across generations. Hester Maliz, and her grandson Tyler are the main focus. Funnily enough I remember an exchange between Hester and Nobody where he chastises her for enrolling Tyler in a Foundation program at such a young age. He calls it a brainwashing fascist boot camp. Nobody goes on to threaten Hester with how the future of the Foundation will turn it to more militarism, fewer compromises, and corruption. A machine that will cement an empire. For history repeats itself time and time again. War never changes (funny fallout line, laugh now).

And all of this is fucking rich to hear from the entity that’s been possessing people and bending them to its will and goals the whole story. For no matter how noble the entity may think its own goals, it too is a frightful machine. Whitesuit even remarks to Hester prior to her exchange with Nobody: "think about what the Foundation would be like if it had all the drive in the world and no purpose, doing things and hurting people just because that's what they'd always done. Like an automaton." Nobody too is an element of war enforcing something very few understand. For the entity is blind to this (or perhaps just uncaring), just as Whitesuit perhaps is. They are two entities caught up in a cycle of horrible violence without much acknowledgment of who they hurt and who is caught in the crossfire. Tyler Maliz tries to stop them, but his efforts to do this culminate in something perhaps cruel when he turns to try and stop Nobody and Whitesuit from ending this war through the Name Machine.

Which is something he fails in. But hell, even then it's not the true end, despite it closing the story. Nobody and Whitesuit are gone, but the effects of their actions will linger like a horrid specter over the survivors. Things will not be the same again. But life marches on, does it not? It won't be the same, but an attempt to move on and heal can be made.

This series doesn’t really end in a victory. It ends in survivors trying to pick up their own pieces.

Hey, just like war. 

Jesus christ this was way longer than I thought it would be LMAO. Hi I’m Dino--Draws and I am so fucking autistic about this series. Have this 1,000+ word borderline essay/ramble about thematics and allegories.

oh sweet zombie jesus that's a lot of words

this is a really good breakdown! i admittedly can't really answer how much of the war allegory was on purpose, since The Man in the White Suit wasn't written by me alone -- but I can say that a lot of the elements you're talking about were deliberate decision. the idea was definitely that Nobody is this abstract thing that hijacks people for its own purposes, completely apathetic to whatever lives they have going on, and then throws them away when it's done, leaving a husk behind. and Whitesuit is this amalgamation of husks that have decided to Do Something About It, but is he really any better? he also doesn't give a shit about collateral damage, he's more than willing to hurt and kill people to get what he wants (Nobody, dead).

so, sure, on a grander scale the series is very much about the casualties of conflicts -- not necessarily war, but that's certainly a valid way to read it. all the faceless nobodies left behind after these two tear through their lives, just trying to pick up the pieces and form themselves back into Somebody. the coda, one of my favorite articles on the site in general, goes into this; after Whitesuit 'splodes, his constituent parts don't really feel liberated or filled with relief. his mission was never their mission. they just want to live the lives they missed out on because they got drafted into a cosmic war they never had a chance in.

i'm really glad someone enjoyed the series enough to think about it this much; it's one of my favorite things i've written. thank you for the Big Thoughts 💙

[ko-fanatic]

Who wants a spoiler for the Wales-centric historical Hetalia fic I've been writing? See below the cut.

Warning: There are some dub-con dynamics and implications in the following excerpt, but no sexual content. This is creepy, but nuanced, I hope. Still, if these things affect you, I'd recommend not reading.

“Have you never seen yourself?”

There was humour in Rome’s voice as Rhydian observed himself in the polished silver he’d been handed, turning his face to and fro as the older man had that day. He ran a critical eye over his nose, his eyes, his jawline and cheekbones. The way his hair had grown out from his tribesmen’s old style had left him blinking pale strands from his lashes, and had gotten yet another compliment from the man.

Rhydian fucking hated him. 

“In still waters, yes,” He answered, tone completely civil, “Not like this, however. You were right, I am quite pretty.”

Rome laughed, then, running a hand through Rhydian’s hair and leaning the boy back to rest on his chest. The younger closed his eyes, swallowing hard, but let Rome do as he wished; he didn’t have much energy to spit and hiss as he’d done when the older man first saw fit to see him settle into the “new home” he’d “so graciously” provided. 

The house was beautiful, he couldn’t fault it for that, but it just felt so… unnecessary. Merely decorative. Rome had laughed before about his “mud huts” and Rhydian hadn’t appreciated it at all, throwing the cup of wine the other had given him in his face - staining the brilliant white of his toga - before the young nation marched out of the dining hall and to bed. 

“It’s a personal quirk,” He continued, shrugging, “We have mirrors, too. Made of bronze rather than silver, though.”

“You can see the truer colours with silver,” Rome hummed, “See how lovely your eyes are. The rosiness of your cheeks. Your pretty hair.”

The last utterance was punctuated by a kiss, right on the crown of Rhydian’s head, and the mirror clattered to the floor. 

At once, he was on his feet, chair falling away as he pushed out of Rome’s admittedly soft hold, eyes wild and heart hammering. He called Caledfwlch to his side in an instant, poised and ready to defend, and Rome only met his aggression with more laughter. 

Rhydian dreamed of cutting his throat, letting the blood bubble up every time the older man tried to snicker in that infuriating manner, but he never did. It was better to settle, live alongside the Romans and share their cultures. To just calmly accept it all and roll with the punches. He wasn’t conquered like Albion apparently was. It wasn’t perfect, but an uneasy truce was a truce nonetheless.

And the figs Rome had bought him were sweet. 

His shoulders slowly lowered, breathing out the tension, but his sword still in hand. Just in case. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you should relax?” The older man asked, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, and Rhydian swallowed against glass shards, “Not every touch is mean spirited, or an attack.”

No, but they could be. 

“You’re right,” He falsely acknowledged, the flesh of his cheek between his molars as Caledfwlch was sent away once more, “I’ve never been good with uncertainty.”

“You really don’t know where you stand with me, do you?”

The words were spoken in the closest thing to sadness that Rhydian had heard from Rome in the past months, nearly year long they’d been going through this back and forth. It made his shoulders slump further, a faint metal taste in his mouth at the kicked-dog expression the other was wearing. 

Am I really the bad guy here?

“I don’t,” He concurred, voice quiet, “Why capture me to release me? Why flounce between Italy and Albion, only to come back here and spend the whole time feeding me strange food and calling me pretty.” 

There was that silence again, but it didn’t stretch as long. Perhaps it was the tentative understanding that starts to build from this sort of time together. Not the same as tribesmen, nothing near, but familiarity. Like how he knows Rome will indulge in red wine until he’s sick several times over, and how Rome knows he likes leek with his rabbit and will nibble on cherries for dessert. 

“You’re more valuable to me as an ally, I think,” Rome admitted, “Your metal work - both weapons-wise and jewellery - is extremely impressive. You make so many small details look so effortless, and craft some truly delicate pieces. You’re also willing to bite and claw and scratch to keep your freedom, no matter how much it costs you. It’s almost inspiring. Besides…”

Rhydian swallowed once again, that sharpness increasing tenfold, blinking back a sting in his eyes at the praise. At the admittance of how talented and tenacious his people were. Feeling proud and yet so, so small all at once, in a way only Rome could accomplish. 

“You have a face that makes me want to dote on you, show you the ways of the world.” 

A step towards him, and another, and another until those big hands encircled his own wrists. Looking up at that soft, guileless smile, he felt his stomach swoop in something dread-adjacent. He wasn’t scared, but was certainly apprehensive of what expectation was held in each gentle touch. Body language exchanged in the silence of the newly built villa and filled the empty space with tension. 

Rome’s face whispered go on without uttering a single word. He let himself be led to the bed - metal and precious and expertly crafted, topped with a soft down mattress - and Rome took a seat first. A guiding hand pulled him onto the man’s lap, and he put up little resistance, but didn’t meet his eyes. 

The older’s hand dipped into the little box on the bedside table, offering its spoils as he was delicately perched. Like he had to be treated gently, like the wind and rain didn’t mould him, like he was soft and sweet. He felt like he was absent from his own body, somewhere to the side of himself, floating in that same space that Caledfwlch disappeared to when he no longer needed it.

Like he no longer needed his mind. Like he could simply float in the ether. 

Rome offered his hand, pressed his fingertips to his lips, and Rhydian took a bite.

The pomegranate was sickly sweet.

[kitkatt0430]

Time for the latest episode of the Flash. And since I was not hiding from spoilers last night, I already have reservations about the retcons I've read are coming in this episode.

Chester please don't do the self-echo thing. Please.

Anyway, Barry's birthday used to be in March. Not April. I'm still not over this change. It used to be his birthday was just days before his mother's death for extra tragedy points. Also, even if Barry is 'physically' thirty, he's experienced 34 years of life. Celebrate that. That's what birthday's are about. Celebrating the experiences.

Wally!!!!!! And David!!!! And Dig!!!

I do like Barry and Dig's bonding and actually talking about grief. It'd be great if Barry would actually grieve for Caitlin. But. At this point I'll take what I can get. At least she gets mentioned.

Chester makes Allegra a mask device of her own. Which she could have used two seasons ago - who does he think she'll be hiding her identity from at this point? Her secret identity is just as much swiss cheese as Barry's at this point.

I've been reminded of why I don't like that one Spice Girl's song.

Wally and Barry bonding!!! But of course it gets awkward because apparently there are parts of Wally's past he's not talking about. (Retcon alert.)

And now we're to the poisonous toast from the teaser, let's get this death party started!

Bloodwork!!! Making quite the CGI entrance. And he wants cake. I wonder how he escaped ARGUS.

Oooh, using what he learned about Nora against Barry this time. Low blow. And he's so cheerful about it too.

Chester - O_O All my friends are zombies. Gotta run.

Ramsey's new target is Wally. And Wally doesn't know what Bloodwork does. O_O

Okay, so here's the retcon I've been dreading. So in Season 2 it was established that Francine left Joe and Iris after her drug habit endangered Iris. Only she then found herself pregnant with Wally, so she got clean and stayed clean. That was the story both Wally and Francine presented, either through their exact words or by implication.

Now what we're getting is that Francine relapsed at some point, quite likely for a long period of time given the state of disrepair the home in Wally's 'memories' - modified by Bloodwork so unreliable narrator here - and that his struggle with squaring his rose-colored-glasses memory of his mother and the reality of what living with her during her drug addiction is what's making him vulnerable to Bloodwork and keeping him from achieving his spiritual awakening.

On the one hand, this is a much more plausible retcon than the Thomas Snow bullshit we got in Ep2 of this season. On the other hand, the whole 'drug addict Francine' plot was already racist in S2. This makes it worse.

Is it realistic that a drug user, even one who knows she needs to stay clean to take care of her child, would relapse once or even several times? Yes. Totally. Is there a racist history of painting black people as more likely to be drug addicts? Also yes.

Also fuck Ramsey for trying to subtly pit Wally against Barry there with his dig about Barry's childhood home being nicer. This isn't the traumatic childhood Olympics.

So was Red Death actually from a parallel reality and not an alternate timeline after all? I still feel like the alt timeline thing was just muddying the waters.

Good on Wally, seeing through Ramsey's rather blatant manipulation. I do feel like Bloodwork is trying too hard to sell his snow job here, though. Being a bit too obvious compared to his last go-round.

Lol, the meta commentary in Ramsey directing 'the Flash' is pretty funny. The hat sells it.

And Frost and Caitlin being brought back for that scene, just to really twist the knife that he got 'extra' years and they didn't.

*sigh* and we're revisiting the S2 resentment Wally felt for Barry. I'm not a fan of revisiting resolved plots like this.

Oh, hey, did Wally just kill Barry for real? I guess that's how he meets Oliver. And no time wasted, Barry's on Ollie's purgatory island to hang out in death.

Hugs for Oliver. Oliver - I'm allergic to emotions. Stop it.

oooh, confirmation. Red Death is from Earth-4125. Oliver has been numbering them, he's been bored. And alone.

Also I'm getting all the Olivarry vibes between these two again, they just can't resist making heart eyes at each other.

Khione's been taking a level in badass. And putting people in cryostasis. I do wish they'd explore non ice aspects of her powers, but I do like the way she uses her powers here - I don't think Frost had that kind of careful control. Though, honestly, they could have had her do it and I'd have accepted it as just her control improving.

Oliver - Look, I could un-dead you accept you're having a liiiitle bit of a death wish. Barry - What? Me? A death wish due to all the trauma and depression I've gone through? No. Not at all. Maybe. A small one. It's just everyone I care about keeps dying, but I randomly get three extra years of life. It's just not fair. Oliver - I should quote Labyrinth here, maybe.

Okay, so I'm glad to hear Oliver finally open up about how he feels about his dad's death. But. What about Laurel's death? What is she, chopped liver???

Actual dialog. "You're not gonna boop me again, are you?"

Oliver - I can only intervene when the multiverse is in danger. Barry - I think you missed me.

Barry, stop flirting with Oliver, your pregnant wife is hiding in the time vault.

Get some of that Arrow theme song in there as Ollie grabs his bow. Does he even have arrows? Does he need them at this point? Can he shoot specter powers at people???

Wally's corrupted lightning is white.

Oh, hey, Ollie found arrows. Somewhere.

Ramsey's god complex having gotten bigger since S6 is kinda amusing though. One world is not enough, he must have them all.

I do think I enjoyed the S6 zombie invasion better, though.

Khione healed Dig of his infection. With, uh... vomiting involved. Eww.

So in Wally's flashbacks, was that a clip from Flashpoint? O_o

Dig showing up to save Oliver. And more hugs for Oliver. Cut short by Ramsey going full CGI monster on them. Still, nice to have that reunion.

Oliver's gonna shoot specter power at the multiverse. After saying his iconic line, which does not make sense in context. But I'll take it.

While Ramsey deserved to have his powers taken away, it's a little too convenient that his HLH is magically cured too. I'm not sure how I like that. It's like giving him what he'd originally wanted.

Party time again I guess.

Glad Iris and Wally get to bond.

Iris - I've read your long-ass emails. Wally - *surprised pikachu face*

I hope Wally's sticking around for the last few episodes of the show.

Dig and Oliver getting a proper goodbye this time. *sniff*

And the episode ends with the tradition of Barry and Oliver drinking together. This time in the only bar left in Central City. (Seriously, it's the only bar this season. And also the only casino.)

Oliver and Barry getting a proper goodbye this time too. *sniff sniff* And a reminder of how much Oliver believed in Barry from the start. Awwww

I think I was expecting Bloodwork to be the final overarching villain of the show, so I am a bit disappointed this was a standalone episode. But overall it wasn't bad for what it is.

The trailer for part one of what is a... three? episode final arc shows the show returning to the start with Barry, Mattobard, and Nora Allen's death. Will the multiverse be relevant here? Will Barry break time one last time for old time's sake? Will Eobard finally be a non-disappointing villain again?

I guess I'll find out whenever I have time to actually watch it. With my home reno finally about to heat up, I dunno when that'll be.

[novelmonger]

Moments That Bring Me Joy: Star Wars Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

I'm going through some of my favorite childhood movies and listing all the moments in them that bring me joy. I'm fully aware that many of the stories I loved as a kid are deeply flawed, but I just want to take some time to appreciate what they did well. Just because I'm focusing on the positive doesn't mean I'm unaware of the negative.

Note: I chose the word "joy" deliberately. Not all of the moments that bring me joy bring me (or the characters) happiness. Scenes involving death or pain might not be very fun or cheerful, but I find joy in a good story well told.

This one is a little harder for me to parse, because it came out when I was a teenager, after I'd mostly moved on to other fandoms. I still love it and have watched it many times, but it just has a different feel to all the other ones that I watched incessantly in my preteen years. I think a teenager enjoys movies in a different way than an eight-year-old does.

Love how it begins by throwing us immediately into the middle of a stunning battle!

Obi-Wan crash-landing his ship, flying out with a Force leap, then landing in a roll and coming up lightsaber swinging - woohoo, what a move! 8D

I love all the shenanigans and banter with the elevator XD

"Chancellor Palpatine, Sith lords are our specialty."

"Dew it."

Obi-Wan waking up, hanging over Anakin's shoulder and staring down an elevator shaft, then immediately clinging to Anakin ^_^

"Do you have a Plan B?"

"Not to worry. We are still flying half a ship." ... "Another happy landing."

I love the dramatic lighting in the scene where Anakin goes to Yoda for advice about his dreams.

*cradles the last conversation Anakin and Obi-Wan have as friends* The warmth of their interactions is so precious.... :')

I've always thought the people on Utapau look really cool. Also fun that the leader is the same guy who played the Mouth of Sauron!

I looooove the creature Obi-Wan rides on Utapau <3 Its cries are so cool, and it's so colorful and pretty! 8D

"Hello there." "General Kenobi!" Classic.

You know, Obi-Wan has always been a stellar fighter, but this movie really shows him at his prime. It's not just anyone who could face off against someone wielding four lightsabers at once and stand his ground.

"So uncivilized." *tosses blaster away*

That haunting scene where Anakin, waiting in the Jedi Council chamber, looks across the sunset-red expanse towards the room where Padme waits, looking across to him.... One of the most beautiful moments in the whole series.

Darth Vader's march upon the Temple--and all of Order 66, really--is heartbreaking, but cinematically perfect. So dramatic. So striking.

I really like that Anakin sheds a tear after killing the Separatist leaders. He's so far gone already, but there's still that sliver of the man he used to be. That he can still feel pain, even remorse...it's proof that, as Luke will eventually find, there's still some good in him. And as tragic as this movie is, that tear is actually rather reassuring.

The duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin is just stunning. The moves they use, the speed, the implications of what this fight means for both of them.... I still count the Darth Maul fight as my favorite, but this one is just *chef's kiss*

"You were the Chosen One! It was said that you would destroy the Sith, not join them! Bring balance to the Force, not leave it in darkness!" "I HATE YOU!" "You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you."

The juxtaposition of Darth Vader being operated on and Padme giving birth, both of them screaming, in a way both of them dying as a new life begins....

The sheer wonder on Obi-Wan's face when he learns that he might be able to talk to Qui-Gon again.

Padme's dress for her funeral is so pretty, especially with all the little white flowers in her hair.

The movie ending on a shot of the sunset on Tatooine. Beautiful.

[that-damned-lesbian]

Letters from Home

June 12, 2039

My dearest Sophia,

Don’t worry, I won’t start my letters like that. I just always imagined writing one of capital-E Epistles that’s read on an old-timey history documentary to show how full of passion and complex emotions common people in the past were (and of course, by implication, how boorish and uncultured people today are). Never mind that ninety-nine percent of the letters are, like, “Dear Maw, Say hi to Paw, I love you.” Like, sweet, but hardly profoundly tragic and affecting?

Anyway, I miss you already. Things are going well here; I got that job I wouldn’t stop talking about, the archivist position at the Historical Institute? It’s a dream come true! I’m neck-deep in newspaper clippings from the 1920’s and absolutely loving it. 

The docent is talking about having me run an exhibit about tenement life in the different ethnic communities in the city around the turn of the century, she uses phrases like “interactive” and “populist” and “radical history” and I can’t help but get excited, you know me. She’s a pretty great leader, actually, makes me feel like I’m a part of something really special.

Come to think of it, by the time you get this, maybe my life will be a part of history. It really makes me think about, like… death and stuff. Impermanence. Whatever. Like I should be burying a time capsule or something.

WELP. That’s enough of THAT for one day. I’m gonna keep you inundated with mail though! You’ll have enough to make a whole archive about me wherever you end up. Stay frosty, sis.

Love,

Natalie

------

July 2, 2039

GAAAH. Okay, just a quick note here, but I TOTALLY asked the docent (whose name is Alex, by the way, and is SO FREAKING CUTE I CAN’T STAND IT) on a date and SHE SAID YES! I don’t have anyone to gush to at the moment but AAAAH! WE’RE GOING OUT NEXT WEEK!

Love,

Natalie!

------

September 9, 2039

Sorry, I meant to write earlier, but it’s been a crazy few months! I’ve been pretty, uh… busy with Alex. She’s so smart, and funny, and sexy… I’m smitten, you know me. Between that and my new job I’ve been really distracted!

Personally, everything is great. But outside the city, stuff seems like it keeps getting worse. The drought in the Northeast is going on three months now. We’ve had multiple hundred-degree days in the first week of September. Everyone is angry and scared, it seems like, and it comes out as just simple crankiness and mean-spiritedness. I don’t like it.

Ah well. The drought will pass, and we’re all pitching in together with water relief measures. It will get better. Anyway, Alex is calling! Tata, and keep cool!

Love,

Natalie

------

January 22, 2040

Dear Sophia,

Something… really bad happened a few weeks ago. I went back and forth on whether to tell you about it, because I don’t want you to worry, but by the time you read this I’ll probably be long dead, and I tell you everything anyway, so I figured I might as well get it off my chest.

Um, there’s this group of guys that have emerged from the recesses of the internet in the last year or so. They call themselves the “Patriot Brotherhood.” They’re just a bunch of goons, really; tiny-dicked little shits with delusions of grandeur, the dregs of a dozen different forums and subreddits and twitter enclaves. 

They’ve been all over the news because of some high-profile shoutouts from conservative politicians and a big wave of marches and rallies a few months back. So there’s a little band of them in every big city, even liberal ones like New York.

Anyway, I was out walking with Alex, holding hands, and they were hanging out on a street corner. They saw us and… came for us, surrounded us, started calling us “faggots” and “dykes” and telling us they’d “cure” us by shoving their… you know. I was scared out of my mind, Soph. I thought they were going to… I froze up, started crying. Alex was trying to protect me; god, I love her so much. When they saw me break down they just laughed and shoved each other a bit and left us alone. Alex somehow brought me home and I lay down and cried until I fell asleep.

Jesus, fuck, Soph. I thought we left this shit in the 20th century. How can people still be like this? I know it’s just some losers and nobody who matters takes what they said seriously, and nothing even happened, but I’m so scared, sis. I’m scared just to leave the apartment. I start to panic about walking down the street in broad daylight. I don’t know what to do.

Alex says I need to see someone. I don’t know. She’s probably right, but I figured I could start by telling my little sister, who’s never scared of anything.

… Keep it on ice, sis. Heh.

I love you,

Natalie

------

April 4th, 2040

Dear Sophia,

I did go and see someone like Alex suggested. Well, threatened. She point-blank said she would break up with me if I didn’t go to therapy right away. And I cried and hid and then I listened to her, and it really has helped. I feel anxious basically all the time, and I have really bad panic attacks sometimes, when someone raises their voice, or makes a sudden movement, but it’s getting better. I don’t feel like I’m going to die when it happens, or like I can never leave the house, so… that’s a plus. 

It’s getting worse out there, though. Those Brotherhood goons are declaring it a “new Enlightenment,” saying they’re going to re-assert “Western values” and bring us back to a golden age. They’re basically LARPing fascists, or they just are fascists. I’m not sure which. There’s a lot more of them than anyone really thought there could be, but people are closing ranks. Antifa is showing up big time at their rallies, and there’s this new group called the White Rose movement that’s sprung up, honoring the German students who agitated against the Nazis. The cops still show up at their rallies to fight antifa and protect the fascists, but fuck the cops.

I still feel so afraid, but I’m doing what I can behind the scenes to help raise awareness. I did end up curating that display on tenements in the 20’s and 30’s, but I was able to set it within the context of the Great Depression, and make a whole bunch of connections to the rise of international fascism and how we stopped it at home by taking care of people. I’m really proud of it. When I thought of becoming a historian in school, this is what I imagined, and what more can you really ask for?

Anyway, I love you, sis, and I’m still thinking about you up there on the rocks. 

Love,

Natalie

------

June 4, 2040

Those fucking dimwitted manbabies burned my exhibit. I’m so furious, I don’t know what to say. 

It started with a post on some third-rate scummy fash blog a few weeks ago, calling my exhibit “degenerate” and “politically correct nonsense.” That got picked up by a big national news outlet hungry to fill airtime, which then got reposted by every blog and content aggregator in existence, and tada, manufactured outrage complete with a pack of angry young men protesting outside the exhibit and implicitly threatening anyone who walked in.

Then, after about a week of that, a fire started after hours and burned half the exhibition hall before the fire department arrived. The police haven’t charged anyone. They’re spending more time investigating anti-fascists protecting women’s domestic violence shelters and counter-protesting neo-Nazis.

I was furious, but Alex… dear god, it was like watching a valkyrie descend from heaven and lay waste to the unrighteous. She stormed at the pack of protestors the next day, single-handedly frightening a few of them, and berating the rest into self-conscious defensiveness, and they slowly dissolved over the next few hours. It got captured on a few cell phones, most of the protestors got doxxed, and now, hey presto, no more protesters.

I love her so much, Soph. It scares me sometimes how much. I think you’d love her too, if you ever got to meet her.

The exhibit is gone, though. All that work, all that research, hundreds of newspaper clippings, priceless artifacts, dozens of hours of work on the set pieces alone… all gone. I was so proud of what I had accomplished, and now it’s just a pile of cold, wet ash.

Life goes on, I guess. Alex is already trying to encourage me to think of ideas for new exhibits. Right now, I don’t want to think about anything except sleeping for a long time. Maybe forever.

Love,

Natalie

------

August 30th, 2040

Dear Sophia,

The Gulf Stream shut down today. Well, okay, the IPCC announced today that the Gulf Stream had terminally destabilized, and that it wasn’t coming back. The climate of Northern Europe will spiral out of control, but eventually reach an equilibrium resembling Alaska. France and Germany will be more like Newfoundland. Crop yields will fall dramatically, navigable rivers will freeze three months a year, tens or even hundreds of millions of people may go hungry in Europe for the first time since the end of World War II.

I guess there was no avoiding this, with what we’ve already done to the atmosphere. Even with all the carbon reduction treaties of the last decade, even with the first true zero-carbon economies coming into being and dozens more headed that way by 2040, we still have to live with the consequences of our parents’ choices. 

The Patriot goons are still insisting it’s a hoax, of course, as are a shocking number of people in the Republican party. But we’re well past that, and cognitive dissonance can only stretch so far before it breaks. Most people understand that this is the world that we live in. 

Sometimes I lie in bed for days, unable to leave, overwhelmed by this feeling of hopelessness, like everything good in the world has been cut down or blown up or extracted or polluted, we’ve already dealt our mother a death blow, and we’re just waiting until her body catches up to its mortality and kills us off along with it. And then sometimes, I feel that even if that’s nearly true, maybe we can do something about it, work together, fight off the end, and find a better way to live. Maybe it’s a false hope, but for now, it’s all I’ve got.

Oh, by the way: I’m going to ask Alex to marry me. Even if it’s all pointless, even if there’s nothing we can do, there’s no one I’d rather be with for the last days of a dying world. 

With all the love in my heart,

Natalie

September 2nd, 2040

PS: She said yes. I asked if the post office could send you a paper invitation, but they said twelve light-years is outside their delivery radius. Psssh.

Love,

Natalie

------

December 31st, 2040

Dear Sophia,

I want you to know that if I ever blamed you for leaving, I certainly can’t now. Thinking of you brings me comfort when I’m trying to find sleep, or when I’m practicing the meditation exercises my therapist gave me. 

My mind starts to wander, up into the atmosphere, up above this pale blue marble, out into the blackness beyond the stars, across an unimaginable distance, coming to rest just outside the precious silver seed containing you and your crew, all these infinitesimal, frail bodies protected from the devouring void by a thin eggshell of metal and plastic. 

I think of you, asleep but not, awaiting a day when you will emerge to start humanity anew on your distant world. I envy you, I fear for you, I hope for you. I sit there with you, passing the time, watching your still body. Then, all at once, Alex rouses me, or I hear a sound outside, or I begin to drift off, and my consciousness snaps back into my body, and the feeling is gone.

We’re carrying on down here. You’d be surprised by how things have gone, I think. But I hope you do better.

By the way, Alex and I set a date: June 12, 2041. Your birthday.

I miss you, sis.

Love,

Natalie

[anotherfantasycardgame]

Blog Update #06 - March 28 2024 - Game Evolution, Game Aesthetics and Progress as a Designer

Last time in my blog I briefly mentioned how it took years to develop the "system" for playing Mirror's Game as it is played now. "It can really only be a culmination of playtesting and finding solutions. I guess back then I was more willing to throw away hours of work, or more willing to try things and fill in the gaps until something was whole."

At the time of writing this blog post, It has been about a year and a half since I designed what has become the default template for cards in Mirror's Game. The game has had many iterations over the years, but it seems that because so much has been done in the newest template that moving away from it would bring difficulties. Lets look at the frames and discuss the evolution of the game.

Frame 1 - Created in 2018

This is a bare bones frame because there was no intention to produce this game in any serious capacity. There was no art or anything. Looking at it now, it is a really amateurish concept. It was made in MS Paint to no specifications for any printer. There are some things to point out that stuck for many iterations, as well as things that had to change. Let's discuss the positives of the frame before the negatives. From the beginning I knew I'd want a frame that had some details overlap the black border of the card in some way, and it is hard to see even in this image but I cut out some of the black to subtly let the area for the card name box appear to be a layer above other things. It is a simple design trick. I also like the placement of the ATK and HP. I think this is the way Hearthstone lays out its ATK and HP, as well. I used Red for ATK and Green for HP. I like this decision but I'll mention why I wouldn't do this nowadays in a moment.

The negatives are pretty obvious if you're a game designer, or at least I think they should be if you want to produce a quality game. First of all, all the important info is poorly placed. If a right handed player had their cards fanned out in hand, there would be no way to easily discern what cards were worth playing. They'd have to meticulously comb through the cards, adding some friction to game play. I didn't have a reason for doing things the way I did besides I thought it looked nice, but sometimes you have to make compromises in design for function. Another major issue with the design is that the ATK and HP use two colors that are not easily visible if someone is colorblind. This can cause some confusion, and creates a problem rather than a solution when trying to simplify the legibility of the game. It was a failure in design overall.

In this first design, cards would cost stars (mana) and meter (life) to play. Meter was also a stat, not just a cost. Cards did as much damage to the opponent as they cost in meter. This system was not sustainable at all, because life was tied to play costs and power. This had to be reworked heavily. I was trying to create a system where any card was playable from the beginning, but There were too many costs involved and the power of cards was so high that a lot of choices started to make less sense over time, and the outcome of games was determined very quickly by opening hands. There was also no types for creature cards, and no spell cards. Everything was a generic creature that's strength was simply coming from the cards text. This would become difficult to work with really quickly, and I think a desire to make a simple game was too strong. I should've started with just a little more complexity. The next design tried to address some of these issues. My idea was to introduce "colors" for cards, so certain cards could interact with certain colors. I also changed the stars from 4 to 5 stars per turn, which has stuck since then. I began with four because I liked the implication of "2 stars is half my turn, 3 stars is more than half my turn." However it was a little bit difficult to play more than one card a turn. This also meant there was really just a few combinations of play per turn. a 1 and 3, a 2 and a 2, four 1s, or one 4. Changing this to five added so much room for design, while still keeping the idea that "3 stars are more than half your turn." Now players could get more creative with cards played together in a turn. This design was short lived, and all the issues of formatting remained. It took a long time for those to go away. The next template was the same just prettier, and the fourth one was on track to be a good design for once. The fourth design, It shared issues with the past designs, but finally at least the name of the card was in a good position. I decided to emulate Yu-Gi-Oh! (Something that should never be done.) and layed the star costs out instead of forming any sort of cluster. I used a gray border even, like YGO does. I put the battle stats all along the bottom like YGO as well. At the time, I wanted the style of the game to evoke a nostalgic style. Around the time I had made this design is when MetaZoo came along, and I completely scrapped any ideas of going for a nostalgic style. In practice, I didn't really care for it at all. As for mechanical improvements of this frame, I finally ditched the "colors" for creature types. It would also be the first time the game included "spell cards." or cards that didn't fight on the field. I made them playable once per turn, like Supporters in Pokemon and they have remained that way to this day. I decided to give every creature card two types, a primary type and secondary type like YGO. I even amde it so a card couldn't be two primary types. I did avoid repetitive types for the most part, except for some I felt justified in giving a similar subtype. For example, Mirror's Game has an Undead primary type and a Zombie subtype because I don't think those would be mutually exclusive. Like should a Vampire inherently be a Zombie? It's debatable. But what if I wanted to design a Fire Zombie or something? Some of the creature types in YGO are confusing, like Beast-Warriors not being Warriors. I tried to avoid these sorts of designs. Finally, the bottom two designs are where I think I got my sh*t together. I was looking at Japanese card games, and I found a game called Precious Memories. I realized that game had a lot of the things I needed for my game in their frame, so I used it as inspiration. I even named a card in the base set after the game as a means of "paying respects" to the game with the frame that showed me the light!

The first thing was that I gave up on trying to find a cute way to organize the stars on a card. It was never that easy to understand, and could lead to misconceptions from YGO players (these misconceptions ended up happening anyway, but at least I tried to minimize it!) So now the cost of a card was simply a number with a star beside it. Stars would go on to indicate costs of cards throughout. This time, I placed the cost in a legible spot, and made sure the most important creature stat was also visible when cards were fanned out by a right handed player. I think it took me so long to realize this because I am left handed. The name of cards were also right aligned so some of it could be read in this situation. In the fifth iteration I intended there to be an "orb" in the corner of the card like YGO and Pokemon to indicate the creature type, but this was scrapped by the sixth design. I looked at Precious Memories once again, and I decided on the gradient style for the name plate similar to that game. There is a lot more flashiness to the Japanese game, but I thought this looked really nice. Because the gradient was from the center of the plate, I decided to center the name of cards. The names aren't always perfectly centered, though. This is because sometimes it looks better if the name "plays" with the rest of the art somewhat. It's hardly noticeable. Another big change for the sixth frame was using royalty free fonts. I was accidentally using fonts I didn't know I didn't have the rights for in the past, whoops.

I don't know where else to mention this so, I'll mention the little dragon guy that surrounds the cost of creature cards. I wanted to create a generic "monster" to represent all monsters. It was a fantasy game from the start, so I decided on a dragon. I like it when games have creatures in them that aren't really creatures, like the substitute doll in Pokemon. I considered designing a new symbol for each different creature type, but once I designed a symbol for spell cards I decided that this ornamentation would work better as a symbol representing card type than for the creature type. This can be seen as a carry over from when the game was influenced by YGO. YGO uses the orange frame for any effect monster, then green for spells and purple for traps. We use Blue for spells, and red for the special "bound" creatures. Bound creatures were introduced much later, after the segmented life total was decided upon. The frame for this came after the dragon, I decided that an angry dragon would invoke that these cards are no regular creature. I also created a "sub cost" symbol just for bounds, that picture a stock breaking instead of just the star so players could easily tell the card was not normal. This was also in the fifth iteration of the game, but in that iteration the additional cost symbol was just as big as the main cost and i wanted to keep it open for possibly using to describe other additional costs. It would be sort of like how old MTG cards that had effects in the graveyard had a tombstone symbol. MTG seems to be really good at making minor changes to the template of a card to indicate minor mechanical differences of the card. MTG stands as a great source of inspiration for aspiring card game designers.