#but even into their deaths and beyond when they reunite in heaven (and even pointed out the meaning of stairway to heaven)

[akkivee]

there was some display gallery showing off the various logos in hypmic and the ichikuu peeps on the tl were in shambles over both of them using halos in their mc name signatures lol

#vee queued to fill the void #i understand lol this is a pretty big deal like actually lol #one fan suggested an nb logo could have angel imagery since nb was under stairway to heaven #another in a very fast paced series of tweets cried about it being potential sign of ichiro and kuukou’s bond spanning from life #but even into their deaths and beyond when they reunite in heaven (and even pointed out the meaning of stairway to heaven) #and goddamn i sure love being jacked into the hypmic hive mind i can’t believe i was just musing about kuukou and death #and then directly got food for thought LOL but ichiro!!!!!!! i wasn’t expecting ichiro lol!!!!!! #but bb has been weirdly associated with christmas aka the birth of jesus #who gave his life for humanity and i am too in shambles no way does both ichiro and kuukou have self sacrifice themes NO WAY #god i remember when the hella awesome banquet mv dropped and bat fandom banded together to dissect the video #one person commented it’s strange to see kuukou in association with catholic/christian imagery #but posted a wiki article talking about the similarities between buddha and jesus and the ideologies in those religions #*crying* i even posted about it the black crown above kuukou’s head was both catholic and buddhist and meant to be beneficial for humanity #ichiro constantly being shaken to his core by sacrifices…….. him trying to show the nation the path of hope………… #this is so much lol i love getting food for thought from random observations and drops lol

[chloe-caulfield94]

Chloe has been a "good good influence" on Max

In Episode 3, having heard Max utter her first "hella", Chloe joked that she was a "good bad influence" on Max. On the surface level, that remark referred to Max becoming more "cool" by hanging out with Chloe, but I think that Chloe's influence on Max went far beyond superficial (and ultimately unimportant) things like style and fashion.

When they were reunited, Chloe was at the lowest point in her life. She was barely functioning, or outright non-functioning in all her social roles. She was in danger both physically (of being murdered) and emotionally (of drowning in her own sorrow). So when Max rescued her from certain death, made her smile and laugh for the first time in years and made her feel like she had a reason to stay in Arcadia Bay, it was very easy to see the positive influence she had on Chloe's life.

But the way I see it, Chloe had a similarly profound (and positive) influence on Max's life.

Chloe saved Max in the parking lot, giving her a timely ride. In the boys' dorms in Episode 4, she shielded Max with her own body from an armed and enraged Nathan (on those two occasions Chloe worked in tandem with Warren, but I don't think it cheapens Chloe's - or Warren's - efforts. Helping others is not a zero-sum game, where only one person can get the full credit). In the version of events where Frank lunged to Max's throat, knife in hand, Chloe stopped him by shooting him in the leg. And on Friday, Chloe dragged unconscious Max all the way from the beach to the lighthouse, while the world was ending around them.

Even more importantly, Chloe helped Max on a deeper, emotional level. Max had her own demons to fight, even if their existence wasn't so obvious to the outside observer as it was with Chloe's. Sometimes people hurt under the surface.

Before being reunited with Chloe, Max struggled with self-doubt, lack of confidence and propensity to constantly second-guess herself. She was so unsure of her worth that she couldn't even submit a photograph for a silly school contest, choosing to rip it up instead of putting a part of herself up for others to see (and judge). That dreadful feeling of inadequacy impacted all facets of Max's life.

The reactions Max's classmates have when she chats them up in Episode 1 show that over a month into the school year, her self-doubt and lack of confidence prevented her from making any serious social headways. "You never talk. Just zone out with your camera" (Juliet). "Max, you're smart to be a loner here" (Dana). "Hey, I know you. You're the new quiet girl" (Stella, in response to "Hey there, Stella").

How is it even possible that the same girl, barely four days later, told a serial killer to "eat shit and die" while bound in his torture chamber, before driving a car through a hurricane? What happened to her in the meantime? Or rather WHO happened to her in the meantime?

Throughout the week, on multiple occasions Chloe gave Max exactly the sort of life advice she needed to hear. "It's time to start moving forward in time". "Stop being so goddamn humble. You're like the smartest, most talented person I've ever known". "Once you get over yourself, you're going to make the world bow". "Every great artist gets rejected before they get accepted. So you have to enter a photo". "Stop beating yourself up". "You're kind and caring. Nobody could have a better best friend". "You need to accept how awesome you are". "You're Maxine Caulfield... and you're amazing".

Chloe's advice was simple and straightforward, but that doesn't make it any less helpful, wise or heartfelt. And the constant affirmation and praise must've been like manna from the heavens for someone struggling with feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt.

Max's and Chloe's relationship has always been a two-way street. They both saved each other, in ways different and alike. Only standing side by side they had a chance at defeating their demons.

Chloe's demon was hopelessness. The fear that not a single person would choose to stand by her. That she would have no one to go through life with. This is why she grasped so hard at Rachel's idea to leave Arcadia Bay. Because before Max's return, the dream of skipping town with Rachel was the only piece of hope for a better tomorrow Chloe had left. So she held on to it, even after Rachel left her a letter describing how she had met someone new and exciting. And she kept searching for Rachel, even though you didn't have to be a pessimist to conclude that she was in all likelihood dead. But then someone unexpected, yet very much desired, reappeared and stayed at Chloe's side.

When the Storm hit, Max's and Chloe's demons, feeling the stranglehold they used to have over their victims loosen, launched a desperate, last-ditch attack.

Max's demon, self-doubt, sent her a nightmarish vision that was supposed to make her second-guess all her choices, efforts and sacrifices. Did I do the right thing? Was she worth all that? Does she really care about me? Or is she just using me? And finally, the demon wearing Max's face tried to tempt her into nipping in the bud something that would blossom into a good and beautiful flower. Just like it successfully had tempted her into tearing up a photograph that would've won the contest. Only this time the stakes were infinitely higher - love, life and the future.

Chloe's demon tried to claw from her that one last bit of hope for a better tomorrow she had left. How could she want to be with me, now that she has seen how broken I am, what the price is for being with me? And the demon was victorious. So Chloe gave up and opened a door for Max to leave. "I don't blame you for wanting me out of your life". "You proved that over and over again... even though I don't deserve it. I'm so selfish". "Maybe you've just been delaying my real destiny... [...] I know I've been selfish, but for once I think I should accept my fate... our fate".

Ultimately, the fate of the battle was decided by one final, dramatic blow, as is often the case when heroes face off against demons. Holding the butterfly photograph, Max had the power to slay both demons. Or to let them win. To prove them right. To admit that for Chloe there was no hope for better days. And that Max would never stop second-guessing her choices. Not for anyone. Not even for someone who was her number one priority, the only thing that mattered to her.

I choose to believe that Max Caulfield, the hero, standing amidst the howling winds, clad in her newly-found confidence like a suit of armour, slew two demons with one blow, dealt with the most powerful weapon in all of creation - love.

#Max Caulfield #Chloe Price #Pricefield #Life is Strange #LiS

[orthodoxadventure]

Entry of Our Lord into Jerusalem (Palm Sunday)

Commemorated on April 28

By raising Lazarus from the dead before Your passion, You did confirm the universal Resurrection, O Christ God! Like the children with the palms of victory, we cry out to You, O Vanquisher of death: Hosanna in the Highest! Blessed is He that comes in the Name of the Lord!

Palm Sunday is the celebration of the triumphant entrance of Christ into the royal city of Jerusalem. He rode on a colt for which He Himself had sent, and He permitted the people to hail Him publicly as a king. A large crowd met Him in a manner befitting royalty, waving palm branches and placing their garments in His path. They greeted Him with these words: “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel! (John 12:13).

This day together with the raising of Lazarus are signs pointing beyond themselves to the mighty deeds and events which consummate Christ’s earthly ministry. The time of fulfillment was at hand. Christ’s raising of Lazarus points to the destruction of death and the joy of resurrection which will be accessible to all through His own death and resurrection. His entrance into Jerusalem is a fulfillment of the messianic prophecies about the king who will enter his holy city to establish a final kingdom. “Behold, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on an ass, and on a colt, the foal of an ass” (Zech 9:9).

Finally, the events of these triumphant two days are but the passage to Holy Week: the “hour” of suffering and death for which Christ came. Thus the triumph in a earthly sense is extremely short-lived. Jesus enters openly into the midst of His enemies, publicly saying and doing those things which mostly enrage them. The people themselves will soon reject Him. They misread His brief earthly triumph as a sign of something else: His emergence as a political messiah who will lead them to the glories of an earthly kingdom.

The liturgy of the Church is more than meditation or praise concerning past events. It communicates to us the eternal presence and power of the events being celebrated and makes us participants in those events. Thus the services of Lazarus Saturday and Palm Sunday bring us to our own moment of life and death and entrance into the Kingdom of God: a Kingdom not of this world, a Kingdom accessible in the Church through repentance and baptism.

On Palm Sunday palm and willow branches are blessed in the Church. We take them in order to raise them up and greet the King and Ruler of our life: Jesus Christ. We take them in order to reaffirm our baptismal pledges. As the One who raised Lazarus and entered Jerusalem to go to His voluntary Passion stands in our midst, we are faced with the same question addressed to us at baptism: “Do you accept Christ?” We give our answer by daring to take the branch and raise it up: “I accept Him as King and God!”

Thus, on the eve of Christ’s Passion, in the celebration of the joyful cycle of the triumphant days of Lazarus Saturday and Palm Sunday, we reunite ourselves to Christ, affirm His Lordship over the totality of our life, and express our readiness to follow Him to His Kingdom:

... that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead (Philippians 3:10-11).

Very Rev. Paul Lazor

When we were buried with You in Baptism, O Christ God, we were made worthy of eternal life by Your Resurrection! Now we praise You and sing: Hosanna in the highest! Blessed is He that comes in the Name of the Lord!

Sitting on Your throne in heaven, carried on a foal on earth, O Christ God! Accept the praise of angels and the songs of children who sing: Blessed is He that comes to recall Adam!

#Palm Sunday #Christianity #Orthodox Christianity #Lent #Great Lent

[fwoopersongs]

浪淘沙令·帘外雨潺潺 - Waves Washing the Sand (Ditty) · The Sound of Rain Beyond the Windows

by 李煜 (Li Yu, 937 - 978)

帘外雨潺潺 春意阑珊 lián wài yǔ chánchán, chūn yì lánshān Beyond the blinds, strumming rain; Spring’s presence fades.

罗衾不耐五更寒 luóqīn bù nài wǔgēng hán Quilts of silk are no match for the chill of the Fifth Watch.

梦里不知身是客 一晌贪欢 mèng lǐ bù zhī shēn shì kè, yī shǎng tān huān Within the dream, a guest yet unaware, indulged in a moment of joy.

独自莫凭栏 无限江山 dúzì mò pínglán, wúxiàn jiāngshān. When alone, don’t lean on the railings; the landscape of the country extends, infinite.

别时容易见时难 bié shí róngyì jiàn shí nán. Parting was easy then, meeting again is hard.

流水落花春去也 天上人间 liúshuǐ luòhuā chūn qù yě, tiānshàng rénjiān. Waters flow, flowers fall, Spring has gone. In Heaven or the mortal world?

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Notes

I think the most borrowed line in this very famous poem is 别时容易见时难 // the parting was easy, to reunite hard. It was also this line that led me here, though I’ve forgotten which novel was responsible. And even though it is my favourite line, I was quite stuck trying to English 梦里不知身是客 + 天上人间 and set this aside xD Yesterday, @liberty-or-death reminded me of it, so I dusted it off and lo! was struck by inspiration. And here we are!

I love dreaming and I love all my dreams, even the sometimes frightening ones. And hearing what dreams and dreaming is like for others through songs and poetry brings me so much delight. Maybe I should make a tag for this theme.

Background

Li Yu was the last ruler of Southern Tang during the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms. We read his last ever poem 《虞美人·春花秋月何时了》 (Lady Yu · Spring flowers, Autumn moon, oh when will they end?) which was written before his death in 978 CE. This one was from around the same period of his life, during the three years of imprisonment by Tang Taizong according to  《苕溪渔隐丛话》 Assembled Remarks by the Fisherman Recluse of Tiao Creek, volume 59, under《西清诗话》.

Keeping this background in mind, let’s go to the translation :D

Translation

A 帘 (lián) is like a blind with bamboo slats as seen in the painting below from the Southern Song Dynasty attributed to Li Tang (1070 - 1150).

(Source)

Here’s an example from a modern picture.

(Source)

The word 潺潺 (chánchán) is an onomatopoeia for running water or splashing according to baidu, and in this case it was supposed to be the sound of falling rain, which didn’t make much sense to me because the word in Mandarin doesn’t sound like anything water makes. So I went to search it up on wikipedia for pronunciations in dialects or old chinese, and got saan4 in cantonese and sɡreːn in old chinese, which was more satisfying. Made a vague gesture in that direction with ‘strumming’ for fun. If I wanted to be a little more accurate, it’d probably be murmur?

Traditional timekeeping at night was announced via a drum or gong sounded by the drum tower in city centers, and by night watchmen hitting a gong in the streets (at least, if cdramas are to be believed xD). Each time point was called a 更 (gēng, watch) and refers to the rotation of watchmen sounding those signals. There were five watches, numbered one to five, each 2.4 hours long. For more detailed information, you can check out the wiki page. (If there’s one thing I love about the passage of time, it’s the increasingly detailed information shared in English that means I no longer have to look things up and explain them thoroughly heehee). The Fifth Watch is the last 2.4 h before sunrise, extending from 4am to 6 or 7am, which also happens to be the coldest part of the day. 

My favourite line is this one:

梦里 | 不知 | 身是客 / 一晌 | 贪欢

Within the dream | not knowing | the self is a guest / in the moment | joyful 

It might not be meant read this way, but I like to understand the 贪 (greed) in 贪欢 as that in 贪玩 (playful), an indulgence in joy. It’s a very relatable line. 

I sort of read 独自 | 莫凭栏 无限江山 as ‘alone, don’t go to the railings (expecting) to see rivers and mountains (the kingdom) infinitely stretching out before’. By the way, here’s an interesting article on types of railings and their designs - it is, unfortunately, in Chinese only… but there are pictures! Li Yu says, don’t lean on the railings, don’t look out. Maybe he is telling himself because there is no kingdom and no beauty of that 无限江山 out there for him. Tells us what he was dreaming of without actually saying anything.

For 别时容易 (parting was easy), this was referring to his lands and all that was precious to him. This sentiment is another relatable one, and has been expressed in various other words, like Cao Pi’s (187 to 226 BCE)《燕歌行》Sparrow Song, 别日何易会日难 // how easy the day of parting, is the difficulty of meeting. Difficult to truly empathize until it happens to you.

My impression of 流水落花, more than unrequited love and defeat, is the physical reminder of the passage of time and the loss that is a natural part of it. Youth has passed like the beautiful season of lively Spring. Flowers fall and wither just as we are on our way to our ends, and relentlessly the river of time flows on. When I think about this, I often feel a bit disconnected. Or when coming out of very fun dream and the realization of reality and all the problems that come with it rushes back in. They existed when I was in ‘heaven’ and back ‘on earth’ too. 

#李煜 #浪淘沙令·帘外雨潺潺 #commentary #poems

[md3artjournal]

👻🪦⚰️⚱️

That last reblog---hypotheticals about reuniting with your dead dog in heaven---reminded me.

In my Personal Myth, my protagonist had all this power, but too many emotional/mental hang-ups to fully use them. And one of the problems was that she could totally resurrect people and/or go to any underworld to visit anyone dead, so it kind of took away the stakes for the characters she cared about dying.

But the thing was that I used her reluctance to visit the dead or hesitation to simply resurrect people, as a reflection of my own mental problems...But because I've been in isolation, recovering for so many years, I kind of forgot a lot of my more painful feelings. Especially the ones that were so seemingly irrational, yet instinctually intense, that they felt the need to express themselves in my Personal Myth.

But that last reblog reminded me: Re-bonding with anyone is frightening, even in real life, with living people. It is also wholly within my power, at any time...from an objective, outsider's point of view. But only when I am considered like anyone else, someone who doesn't have social anxiety. My social anxiety goes beyond being afraid while socializing is happening. I'm afraid of having relationships...or reviving previous ones. There's that Hopeless belief that continuing a relationship is just providing more opportunities to continue screwing it up, to continue hurting the other person, and generally be something to be feared, especially with someone cared about. Even with all the power in existence, not everyone can just reunite with the dead or bring the dead back to life. Why does everyone assume that doing so would always result in only good things?

On the face of it, people will call my character a "Mary Sue", or "underutilization of established powers", or my character just not making any sense. But I think this quirk of hers was meant to express this real feeling of mine. And maybe the fact that it doesn't make sense---Why would an all-powerful being act like there are certain things she "can't" do?---is kind of the point. It points to the issue that is the real conflict. Death isn't the conflict.

(see journal file 2:12 AM 3/2/2024)

#lrb~lrt #personalmythfic

[batmurdock]

some unspoken thing [starnovamora]

for @murdockquills & @novasforce, who introduced me to cosmic marvel - thanks for letting me hitchhike in your milano to the triumphant finish line.

--

Love was a weakness. 

That was what she’d always been taught. Love was something that made men fall apart, brought kingdoms down, watered intent to nothing, and dulled the blades of a half-decent assassin. 

Relationships, if they could be called that, were just other weapons to wield. Gamora knew the best grooves to press to make people fall apart — good ways and bad. She had no qualms about using those points of access to her advantage, either. 

Like now, lying here, between two men on whom she and everyone else staked the hopes of the universe, Gamora knew best how to kill them — or give them, as Peter called it, “la petty more”, which Gamora was fairly certain wasn’t the right phrase, but who was she to argue with someone she— 

Cared for. 

It was still hard to say it. Love came easier to Peter, to Richard, than it ever would for Gamora Zen-Whoberi Ben Titan. She’d believed that for many years as she ran her knives together; sharpened their edges, honed her own. She had watched them haunt each other; two ghosts orbiting an empty galaxy, and waited for them to come into alignment together. 

Because she knew how to press. And she knew when to pull back. 

It had been a few hours since they’d left the party. Her skin still glowed from the last release, mossy; warm and flushed. The ceiling overhead had a glass pane through which she could see the tall peaks and spires of buildings in the distance — but it also magnified the stars beyond. 

Idly, agate fingers stroked flaxen hair, Peter dozing off; undignified and utterly beautiful against her stomach. Beside her opposite, his arm wound around Peter and Gamora both, Richard mumbled something about needing to check the scanners. He lolled his head back with a dazed and hazy little smile, and Gamora felt everything inside of her soften. 

To a dulled blade. 

Was that such a bad thing? 

It hadn’t occurred to her that she could be anything other than the one to kill. The vibe, the men, anything else. She was designed to finish things. To tactically strategize exits in the form of eviscerations. If she wanted to, while they slept or dipped into the happy lull of the Lovers reunited, Gamora could’ve ended it. Snuffed out the sun, smothered the light. She knew, after all, their every flaw.

But love was, as it turned out, their greatest strength. 

It could stay the hand of a murderer. Peter’s pleading expressions when she felt far away; when the Stones called out to her, or when memories of her so-called father kept her icy and isolated. Rich relenting long enough to lie in bed beside her for ten extra minutes when the universe was once again on the brink of destruction.

Just some unspoken thing.

She realized, more or less, that they’d said it of one another. Two war heroes nursing their wounds and afraid to show one another their scars for fear of…what, exactly? Oh right. Weakness, she supposed. 

But love brought Peter Quill home. Love brought Richard Rider back. And love — 

Love made the Deadliest Woman in the Galaxy want to finally, maybe, change careers. 

To encourage life. And growth. And — she wasn’t sure what else. Her father waxed poetic about gardens. Gamora’s were just yards littered with bones piled high toward the heavens. But whatever it was, growth, or garden, or the opportunity to simply keep going - all Gamora knew was that she wanted more. 

“I love you,” she said, quietly. Finally. She whipped that knife out of its hilt and brandished it with a simple flick of her tongue. 

It didn’t hurt. 

Her fingers threaded through Peter’s golden tresses, traced lines across Richard’s back. The stars twinkled down through the skylight, the city lavender and indigo above them, slowly being swallowed by the faintest of fogs. But no need to venture outside. No need to go beyond this room. 

Everything they had was within reach. Not power, not violence — but the tender way in which Peter stretched and squeaked faintly, in which Richard groggily yawned and shoved his head a little more into Gamora’s shoulder like a burrowing thing. She smiled to herself, arms still wound around her boys, and exhaled at last. 

She had grieved them. Together. Separately. She had cursed herself for not trying harder. Being or doing or saying more. Seeing them spiral, watching them die or disappear — helpless to stop any of it, anything at all — 

But here they were. Peter, grinning up at her, beardy and golden as a blazing sun, bare and shining. He glowed a little when he wasn’t thinking about it, sometimes — not unlike how when he went down on Rich, Rich tended to blue blaze to life himself.

How strange, even still, to think of herself as anything other than a black hole that devoured life with the swing of her sword, the firing of a gun. Total decimation shouldn’t have a chance at something more.

But as Gamora had seen the face of Death, she had seen that of Life.

That face had slept beside her, or was peering up at her now. Surrounded by the softness of it, Gamora thought not of how hard she swung her sword, nor the force with which she once kicked a Brood back into its crumbling nest so hard the entirety of it imploded. No - strength, at times, was a tenderness - notching an arrow just so, keeping your grip just loose enough. 

You couldn’t hold too tight to things like Peter, for example. Just enough. Couldn’t push Rich too far, or he’d just refuse to come back down. In her own way, she’d been trying all along to reel them in - to get them to realize something she, too, was only just starting to realize herself.

Peter was wriggling upright reluctantly as Rich slouched closer, his hand catching Peter’s cheek in a soft grip. They kissed over her, and Gamora almost laughed. 

“Oh, that’s fine, don’t mind me--”

“I’m starving,” Peter exclaimed as they broke apart, eagerly looking between each of his loves. “What’s around that’s open?”

“Everything,” Rich laughed. “Anything. I think we were promised free takeout for life.”

“Pretty sure no one said that,” Gamora mock-frowned. It was easy to fall back into this - as Peter smooched her stomach and [to her horror] made her scrunch into a baffled little ball, which made Rich throw his head back and laugh - 

This was their love.

This was their world.

This was not a sword, but a shield. Not a gun, but armor. Or perhaps all of them were the bullet - she the sighted rifle, Rich the force behind it, and Peter the hand to pull the trigger of the galaxy’s greatest power.

“Let’s get room service,” Gamora murmured, and, stretching, rolled over slightly to grab the nearest communicator. Peter’s lips graced her shoulder, and Rich lounged against Peter’s back, snuggling in again. His hand found her hip, tracing silvery lines where parts of her weren’t - human.

But all of her was, with them.

And all of this was love.

Strong enough to see them through to the not-so-bitter end.

#starnovamora #star lord #gamora #nova #peter quill #richard rider #gamora zen whoberi ben titan #my writing #my stuff #gotg 2020 #wednesday spoilers #AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[orionsangel86]

The first Valentines Day they spent together wasn’t great. Taking out a horseman of the apocalypse and consuming an obscene amount of red meat wasn’t exactly a great start for a whirlwind romance. But Dean still remembers the butterflies he got in his stomach when Cas stood too close, or held his gaze for slightly too long.

The Valentines Day’s that came after that were mostly painful, or just another day that Dean wanted to forget:

- Handing Lisa a crumpled gas station valentines day card and a bunch of flowers that had already seen better days.

- Drowning in grief at the loss of Cas and Bobby.

- Hiding in the dark of Purgatory, trading rough hand jobs with Benny, and sending Cas tearful prayers, wishing he’d come back.

- Comforting a scared girl being chased by Hellhounds, wishing his angel would answer his prayers yet again.

- He doesn’t recall specific days whilst he had the mark of Cain.

He remembers the valentines day whilst under the pull of Amara, pining for something both frightening and unnatural, knowing deep down he was longing for something else, something that he thought he could never have.

The valentines day the year after reuniting Amara and Chuck, he had only been out of solitary confinement a few weeks, Cas was there, in the Bunker with him. But he was stubborn and angry at Cas for putting himself in danger. Dean had been giving him the silent treatment the whole time, but God, does he remember wishing Cas would come to him. Cas never did.

So much had happened in the year that followed that one. Cas had died, and returned to him, they had found Jack, and lost him to an alternate world. Even with all that had happened, Valentine Day that year was one of his favourites in recent memory. Dean had shyly invitied Cas for a movie marathon in his room. They had put on a Scooby Doo episode whilst making popcorn, and Cas had teased him for his “ascot phase” that had lasted only a few weeks. Dean still thinks he looked awesome though. They had curled up on Dean’s bed, eating popcorn and watching old horror movies. Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’s shoulder, and woke up on the morning of February 15th with his arms wrapped around Cas’s waist, and his face buried in his side. They were both smiling that morning, but neither had mentioned it again. Dean wishes they had.

The following year things had gone wrong again. Dean was too preoccupied trying to keep Michael at bay in his mind to even think about Valentines Day.

Last year on Valentines Day he was full of rage. Still hurting over all the crap that had happened. Chuck controlling their lives, being mad at Cas, Cas leaving and only returning to help the fight. He was terrified that Cas was just another part of Chuck’s story, another way to manipulate him. But Cas turned out to be one of the only things in the universe that Chuck wasn’t able to control. The one thing Dean had wanted most was the only thing that was truly real in his entire life. The thought still took his breath away. He wished he had known that at the time.

This Valentines Day, Dean was feeling high on happiness and love. Another year where too much had happened, but Dean and Cas decided that they had wasted enough time. Too many years had passed where they couldn’t be together, now they were finally free, finally able to make their own story, and they had chosen each other.

Just over three months ago Cas had confessed his love, and been ripped away from Dean once again before he had even had a chance to process what had happened. Defeating Chuck, and finally freeing themselves from his story had come at a terrible price, but luckily Dean’s adopted son was God now, and this time the deus ex machina was just what he needed.

Dean had wasted no time in finally letting his heart speak. Sobbing confessions of everlasting love into Cas’s lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest. It had all happened pretty quickly after that. Jack had fixed everything, and Dean and Sam could finally retire.

The wedding wasn’t even their idea. Sam had blurted it out one day that they should hold some sort of ceremony as a final fuck you to all the forces of Heaven and Hell and beyond that had tried to separate them over the years. From the most powerful Gods, right down to the nasty little men in expensive suits who didn’t appreciate their love for one another. Eventually Dean had whispered the words to Cas one night, whilst they were still naked, sweaty, and wrapped around each other, gasping for breath. Marry Me just slipped off his tongue, and had got him a tearful yes and another four orgasms before the night was over.

So the valentines day “fuck you” ceremony became “Dean and Cas’s wedding day” and here they were. Exchanging vowels in front of their whole family. Even Crowley miraculously showed up which put Dean on edge for all of 10 minutes before the former King of Hell smiled and raised a fruity cocktail in his direction.

Their first dance was to “All My Love” by Led Zeppelin. Because of course it was. In the dim lights of the dance floor, pressed close to Castiel’s solid form, cheek brushing cheek, breathing in the scent of him, Dean was in the only Heaven that mattered. Right here on Earth. Real Heaven could wait until he was ready to go, which wouldn’t happen until he was old and wrinkly and his hair was grey (but still fabulous and not at all looking like a party city wig).

Once the stragglers had finally left the reception, or past out in the corner, Dean and Cas slipped away to the wedding suite, and drunkenly made love until long after midnight. It was by far, the best day of Dean’s life, let along the best Valentines Day of the past 12 years.

It’s the morning of the 15th February. Dean is lying in bed, on his back, with his new husband wrapped around him like an octopus. He thinks of all the valentines days of the past 12 years, and then forgets them, and thinks of the ones to come.

Next year he will spend the entire day in bed with his husband. Maybe he’ll get up long enough to make pancakes to bring Cas breakfast in bed. Maybe he’ll slip on some anniversary/valentines day panties. He thinks Cas may be into that.

In five years time he’ll spend their anniversary/Valentines day in their home by a beach - the one he plans to build himself. They’ll sit under the stars and listen to the ocean crash into the shore, wrapped in a huge blanket and whisper sweet nothings into each others ears.

In twenty years time, they’ll celebrate with their family. Perhaps he’ll throw Cas a party. He can picture Jack and Claire grown up with their own families, and Sam and Eileen with their own children, also grown by that point, and ready to move on to college and beyond. He sees a future full of love, and happiness, and peace. A future he has chosen for himself. A future where he is truly free to live the life he wants.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if they make anniversary/valentines day plans in the future or not, so long as they are together, so long as he gets this. So long as Cas remains in his arms. So long as he gets to kiss his husbands handsome face and see the love and happiness in his eyes. So long as from now on, nothing, not Darkness, Hell, Heaven, or even Death can separate them. After all, past experience has proven that they never succeeded before. Dean and Cas will always find their way back to each other.

#destiel #deancas #destiel wedding #deancas wedding #happy valentines day destiel #destiel fic #destiel valentines day fic #this is canon okay #my fic

[sanoiro]

Lucifer Meta: Why, Why, Why.

This post contains S6 spoilers

On of the two scenes that blinded me were Chloe getting back from the hospital with Rory and when Chloe passed away.

But there is more to them of course so let’s begin with the first one. 

Chloe gets back from the hospital and her family is there because that’s what they are now. They are a family. 

What blinds and breaks me here is when Chloe sits down holding Rory and she shurgs. 

Perhaps it’s something they are telling her but with Lauren’s acting we know that’s her tight smile. The one where she must not fall apart. 

When I was speculating about S5 I had written that Chloe from 4x10 onwards takes the role of an army wife. I never understood the concept of army troops around the world as it leads to many things around world but I will neither disrespect the families and individuals who go through that nor their ideals. Mainly because the main ideal is to keep the world safe, their families safe. And that’s what we see here. 

In 6x10 the husband has gone Missing in Action. They all know he cannot return. Chloe is aware that even in her final hours she will not see Lucifer whilst she is alive. She knows that despite her joy over having a second child and that being of the man she is deeply in love with, he is gone. Rory is the last piece of him on Earth and as she does not know what lies beyond her death it’s the only thing that she can see him in. 

So with that shrug there is an impending breakdown which is averted over and over again by Rory. Because as she said once, if you have any doubt about this, remember we are doing it for Rory. And as Dad had once said, you want your best for your child. As Chloe said, you do not want them to be in pain. And she had seen Lucifer’s pain and his guilt. No amount of Earth time would have managed to worth Rory succumbing to a similar path Lucifer had taken. The time to averted was on August 5th and in order to happen it meant he had to stay away. Chloe had to fight her battles on Earth and Lucifer in Hell. 

But there was a catch. Chloe had died again she knew that going to Hell was not an option. Going to Heaven would mean she would have to bid Lucifer goodbye forever. I believe it was something that was never discussed with any of the members of their family. Perhaps Chloe decided to leave the rest in a reasonable darkness over what happened to Lucifer in hopes to keep Rory safe. 

Perhaps Lucifer stayed down to Hell with no visitations and that because Chloe knew her deathbed was the key that would let Rory free of her anger and her gloomy future if she had not gone through what she did in the past. 

And so Chloe passes away without the knowledge of lies beyond that threshold very much like the rest of humanity. That because she knew Hell, she knew Heaven but she didn’t know how she could see Lucifer again and there is no Heaven if it cannot appease your wounds. She had lived through a kind of Hell already after all. 

So she passes away and we find her in a place we recognize (perhaps as it is a speculation) from the comics as The Void. A realm beyond our Universe. There Hell, Heaven and Earth are not part of that realm

She seems peaceful as she walks in that Void knowing that Rory is finally safe. that she finally understands and that her work as the mother-protector is finally done. Well for what it mattered and what she knew. 

When she feels a presence behind her she smiles as she seems to be able by now to feel divinity but she is not pleased it’s Amenadiel. 

That’s the scene that broke me. She knew Lucifer would not come while she was alive but to not come when she died was soul-wrecking. Because she hoped it was him. She hoped she could somehow be reunited with him. Break the rules of Heaven and Hell and indeed Amenadiel offered her a solution. A way back home. 

Again Home is where the Heart is. Meaning our loved ones. Lucifer in Chloe’s case. 

And at this very moment she knows it’s finally time. For Chloe perhaps there was a guilt deep inside of her that could have landed her to Hell. Lucifer had attempted to wait a bit longer but in the end Chloe was the one who had the reign over what would happen next. She picked their child. She picked a life of solitude. She pushed Lucifer to fulfill his Calling while she fulfilled hers. Then she and only she had the choice to be reunited with Lucifer and happily, tearfully she took it. 

Therefore, the torture was over at that point for Chloe who had to lie and avoid questions from her child, be away from Lucifer for so long. Lucifer would soon be reunited with her thus permanently finishing his own torture of being alone and Rory was released from hers. There was no abandonment just an affluence of love and determination of parents doing best what they should always do. Keep their child safe and the world safe in extension for them. 

How many special people change? How many lives are living strange? Where were you while we were getting high...

'Cause people believe That they're gonna get away for the summer But you and I we live and die The world's still spinning around We don't know why Why?

#lucifer season 6 #lucifer 6x10 #lucifer meta

[willownoir1112]

Hiya everyone! Wyn here with a late day seven of White Rose Week! Due to circumstances beyond my control, I never got a good chance to post this... Angst train that I should have done earlier this week, but didn't because it's angsty. Anywho, I hope you all enjoy, and I'll see you tomorrow with the bonus day!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Apart

Everyone knows who Ruby Rose is. She used to be brave, she used to be daring, she used to laugh in the face of danger. She used to carry a giant scythe that her enemies feared. She led a group of heroes who saved the world from a great darkness, only to be irreparably broken less than a year after their victory.

Calm yourself, Dolt. Penny and I will only be gone a week.

She's a constant presence at the airship port. She goes there every day and sits in the same seat by dock 34. She always has the same book in her hand, she always wears the same outfit, she always has cookies for children who run up and ask. Otherwise, she is silent day in and day out, her nose stuck in the book that told the stories of brave knights and beautiful princesses, of courageous heroes and ignoble villains. Forty years has she waited for an airship that will never return, the woman she has been apart from all these years one of it's many lost passengers.

Ruby, if you insist on being childish about it, then simply wait here. My airship will return to dock 34 in a week's time.

She always smiles at the children, even though it is hollow and empty. She always has kind words for them when they run up to her laughing and asking for sweets, even though her eyes are lifeless and dim. The guards never bother her, and look out for her every single day. They make sure she eats, has plenty to drink, and is always comfortable. Any adult who looks into those once shining silver orbs see the shattered soul behind them, and leave her in peace. No one can sit in the seat she has claimed for so many years now once she leaves for the evening, for they all feel in their own souls the depths of her sorrow and loss that radiates from the piece of furniture. A loss that has broken the once vibrant woman and turned her into an empty shell.

Miss Rose, Miss Schnee is never coming back.

Only the longtime head of security, Jaune Arc, remembers the moment when Headmaster Ozpin came to inform her. He himself had been by her side, along with her sister and both their teams when she was told that the love of her short life was never to return to her. He tells his newest recruits the story, and always, always it ends the same way: watching his best friend's soul shatter before his very eyes. Of watching the light leave them forever, even as she screamed in denial. None of his recruits dare to point out that his own eyes are as dead as her's. No one has the desire or curiosity to speculate as to how two people with souls as dead as theirs can still live.

If they did, they would finally realize that they are both simply empty shells, going through the motions of lives they stopped living forty years ago...

When I return, I will be a free woman. And then, we will get married as we wish.

It was a horrific sequence of events that took Weiss Schnee and her companion, Penny Polendina, away from Ruby Rose and Jaune Arc. James Ironwood, who was consumed with his hatred for the two women along with those that they loved and held dear, hijacked their airship and forced it to crash into Atlas Academy's CCT tower. The two young women were among the many dead from the madman's horrid actions, actions which broke the two people who loved them the most. Ruby especially broke, and now repeats the same actions every single day without fail, despite them always leading to the same sad, heart wrenching conclusion.

I love you from now until forever, Ruby Rose. No matter what, I will return to you.

Ruby returns every single day without fail, always sitting in the same seat, despite her own slowly failing health. She never even flinched when the doctor came and told her the cancer was now in her brain, as well as all her organs. She simply continued to read her book as she continues her vigil, while the world around her moves ever onward. An engagement ring still adorns her now bony finger, a promise made over forty years ago still driving what is left of her failing heart and shattered soul to wait for the woman she loves. She never attended her father's funeral, or her sister's when they each died a Huntsman's death. She never stopped even when Weiss's best friend Blake begged her to come with her and her children to Menagerie. To learn to live her life once more, despite being apart from Weiss. She never even looked up from her book when she was informed that Ren and Nora too had passed, Ren of cancer and Nora of her own grief. She had put her life on hold when Weiss Schnee left for Atlas, promising that they will be together forever upon her return. But her life stopped when the light left her eyes instead. Her life has been a series of repeated motions that have never deviated no matter the circumstances of the world around her.

Jaune, I can't leave my sister like this…

Then leave. I know her pain, Yang. I'll keep her safe.

Jaune Arc has outlived his entire team. He has outlived even Ruby's sister Yang and her teammate Blake. He and Ruby are all that are left of the Heroes of Beacon, and he keeps their leader safe in all their memories. And every night, he sits next to Ruby for a time, comfortable in the silence between them as she rereads the same book, and he looks towards the empty horizon. Both of them are waiting for women who will never come home to either of them in this life. He then takes her home, only to repeat the same cycle of never ending sorrow the next day. A seemingly endless cycle that has lasted for over forty long years.

We will never be apart, Ruby. Not as long as you keep me alive in your heart.

No one knows exactly when Ruby and Jaune finally gave up on life. It was once again the beginning of the day, and Jaune has taken to simply sitting next to his leader since he was forced to retire. He soon is also repeating the same motions, while wearing a uniform that is no longer his, while keeping the silent women who would only break said silence with kind words for the children who would notice her company. They never spoke to one another, yet no one would deny they knew they sat alongside one another day in and day out. They were broken apart from the ones they loved the most by one man's rage, and were broken in spirit as well. A little cat faunus girl wandered up to the two of them, hoping the old woman who smelled of delicious cookies would share one. Instead, everyone nearby was alerted by her sudden screaming and begging for the two of them to wake up, to stop staring blankly into the still empty horizon. All anyone remembers is her weeping, her screaming, her grief. The adults who gather around her, who console the little girl, hope that the two heroes, who both died with smiles upon their faces, are finally reunited with Weiss Schnee and Penny Polendina in the afterlife.

No one could see the long overdue airship finally return, almost forty one years to the day that it departed. They couldn't see the ramp extend, or the white haired woman or the ginger haired one rush out. They couldn't see Ruby and Jaune both rise up, despite the loss of their mortal selves. They were once again young and healthy, and their eyes were alight in their joy. None of them would ever witness Penny crashing into Jaune's arms while sobbing, or Weiss walking up and simply taking Ruby's offered hand with tears in her own eyes.

"You dolt! You were supposed to live for us both!"

"I'm sorry Weiss, but life isn't worth living without you."

"And Heaven is empty without you, Ruby…"

#white rose week 2021 #white rose #ruby rose #weiss schnee #angst #my writing #i will go down with this ship

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 26A: Your Body Looks Like Heaven

Steve's POV

My stomach was twisted into knots and my hands were clammy by the time we pulled up to the hospital and I was seriously contemplating staying in the car.

--

I came back to Cat's hospital room with Hop behind me. Stopped when we saw Billy on his knees.

Pleading.

"Put all our problems behind us and just leave..please? What do you think? Would you be happy?"

Cat smiled so softly, let herself dream for a moment.

B..." she reached out a hand to cup the side of his face and gently pulled his head into her shoulder, wrapping her arms around his back.

She locked eyes with me over his shoulder and I really believed that she would run away if she could.

And I couldn't let her.

"I..."

I cleared my throat, silencing her before she could agree, "Hopper needs to talk to you, Billy."

He pulled himself together a bit and followed Hop down the hallway.

I settled in the chair next to Cat's bed with a huff. She wiped her hand over her cheek, fingers stopping to curl over the tube taped there. The one going down her nose to feed her.

Her eyes widened a little, "is that-?"

"Yeah. Feeding tube."

"I don't like it, it hurts," she rasped, touching her throat.

And I was so fucking...hurt and angry. I couldn't stop myself.

"Good."

Cat dropped her hands into her lap, staring down at them, "so I'm being admitted?"

"Yeah," I nodded, "you are. There's a program in the city that they're going to recommend to your mom."

She hummed and tipped her head back into the pillow.

I needed her to live, even if she hates me for this.

"Could you, for once, think about the people you'd leave behind if you kill yourself? Me, Billy...your mom..Max. People love you, Cat. You need to try for us."

She opened and closed her mouth, huffing a little.

"I'm serious. Talk until you lose your fucking voice if you have to, but this shit needs to stop. I can't be here for you anymore if you stay sick."

"When am I going?"

"Couple days. We'll be here to see you off."

She looked at me, eyes cold, "don't come back, Steve."

And I hadn't talked to her since that day.

I knew she was pissed that I had brought her into a hospital, but what else was I supposed to do? When we found Cat, she was beyond just bandaging up and putting to bed and I had hit my breaking point. It had been now or never that night, our last chance to help her. But no matter how I justified betraying her, I'd still betrayed her and the thought had been building in my head that maybe we couldn't be friends anymore. Maybe she'd want nothing to do with me anymore and that was a hard pill to swallow.

"Steve? Are you home? I just want to talk to you.."

Cat had left multiple messages on my phone like that, but I could never bring myself to pick up. Didn't want to hear her say she hated me for what I did. So I never answered and never called back. I couldn't face what would happen if I did.

"Steve, man, Cat's worried about you. Hell, I'm worried about you, she says you won't answer your phone and you've been really spacey," Billy talked around his cigarette while we leaned against the front of my house.

We'd spent a lot of time together since Cat left, Billy would often show up late at night to smoke and have a beer with me. It was kind of nice, not being alone, I'd started to look forward to his company.

"Yeah," I mumbled, wiping my face, "just haven't been sleeping great," I tried to avoid the topic of Cat.

Billy didn't try to avoid it, he was his usual blunt self about it, "you're avoiding her."

My silence was enough of an answer for him. He grunted and flicked his cigarette out into the driveway, "Max and I are going to see her in a couple weeks. You're coming."

"No..I can't..I.."

"Steve," Billy clapped a hand on my shoulder, "she wants to see you. I'm fucking nervous too but I'll drag you if I have to."

--

"Steve!" Max clapped her hands in front of my face, snapping me back to the present, "come on!"

She was beaming, practically hopping around, she was so excited. I wish that excitement could transfer to me and take away some of my anxiety, the overwhelming sense of dread. I shuffled along behind Max and Billy into the hospital, past the front desk and into the ward where Cat was. I wanted to bolt, to get the hell out of here as fast as I could until I heard her.

"B!" Cat came flying through the hallway and threw herself into Billy's waiting arms.

He clutched her tight, one hand tight on the back of her neck and the other wrapped around her waist, and lifted her off the ground.

"God," he muttered into the side of her neck, "I fucking missed you."

Cat twisted her fingers into Billy's hair and a soft puff of air left her, like she wasn't sure if she was going to laugh or cry, "I missed you too."

She pulled away from him just far enough to splay her hands on the sides of his face and let out a wet laugh, a few tears rolling down her face as she kissed him. After a moment, Billy let Cat back down to the floor and she let go of him to open her arms to Max, who eagerly ran forward to fill them.

"I missed you!" Max sniffed, getting teary after being reunited with her friend.

"I know," Cat murmured, gently rubbing down Max's back, "I'm sorry, I missed you too, Max."

Billy cleared his throat after a second, "Cat."

When she looked up at him he nodded towards me, I'd been far enough behind them to go unnoticed until now.

"Steve?" She breathed, slowly letting go of Max.

I smiled tightly, felt my stomach kick up into my throat.

And I really wanted to bolt now. To turn around and get the hell out of here. Cause I couldn't handle it if she still hated me.

She stepped closer to me, arms wrapping around herself. One hand up to her lips to bite at her nail.

"Hey," I croaked past the knot in my throat.

She reached out, like she was going to grab me but dropped her hands, "can I..?"

Immediately, my eyes started getting dewy as I nodded and chewed the inside of my mouth. Cat grabbed the side of my face, gently swiping her thumb over the purple bags that had grown under my eyes before sliding her arms around my neck and holding me tightly.

"Oh, Stevie," she breathed, her breath hitching a little as she buried her face in my shoulder, "you never answered my calls, I thought you didn't want to see me."

And I hadn't realized how desperately I missed her. The soft way she called me Stevie, the light vanilla scent on her skin. It was like a part of me had been missing and when she hugged me the full force of that pain hit.

I tucked my head into her hair, inhaling shakily as I wrapped my arms around her back, "that's not..I'm sorry, Cat. I'm so fucking sorry.." I wrapped my arms tighter around her, fisted my hands against her back and let tears fall, "I'm sorry..I had to call, I had to..I thought you hated me."

"Stevie," she cried, twisting her fingers in the hair on the back of my neck, "Stevie, I don't hate you, you saved me."

--

"When do you get to come home?" Max asked.

The aching emptiness of Cat's absence no longer loomed over us and my face and chest hurt from how happy I was. The last time we saw her, her arms had been wrapped in bandages and there had been tubes feeding her, forcing her to live. Now, we could see flashes of thick scars when her sleeves moved but there were no more tubes. Cat's face had filled out a little, the dark hollows less prominent, she looked more colorful, even wrapped up in her usual dark clothes.

"I'm not sure yet," she smiled sweetly and wrapped an arm around Max to hug her to her side, "could be just one more month or could be two."

Billy's groan was barely covered by Max, "but you're better now, right?"

Cat hummed and reached over to lace her fingers into Billy's, "not yet. I need some more time. I'll be home for New Years though. I'll get to spend a couple days with you guys."

Max deflated a little, but then gave Cat a hopeful grin, "maybe we can have a sleepover?"

Billy snorted, "yeah, as if that would ever be allowed."

Max pouted at him, "why not? You sneak out all the time, just take me with you!"

"Yeah, B," Cat imitated Max's whine with a smirk, "you do it all the time."

Billy looked to me for help but was met with me trying to hold in my laughter and groaned, "you are gunna be the death of me. I will try to sneak us out, shitbird, but you better not get us caught."

--

Julie had let us hang out while she drove to the city so Billy, Max and I could surprise Cat when she came home New Years Eve. We had been planning these two days since we had gone to visit Cat. Max and I had picked out movies to rent while Billy was sent out to retrieve a list of food and snacks that Julie had given us money for. When they came through the door we had a mountain of blankets and pillows for us all to lounge on, snacks set out on the table and a stack of movies to watch. Cat had cried while she grabbed each of us for hugs. We got to catch up and hang out for a while before Billy and Max had to go home for dinner, leaving me with Cat and Julie. I was so used to eating by myself, it was nice to have people to talk to. The three of us got to relax together and chat for a couple hours until Julie went to work and then Cat and I huddled up once again on the pillow mountain.

"So," I started, "how are things going? I mean...are you actually better now?"

Cat rolled towards me, resting her head in her hand with a wistful smile, "not all the way, but a little bit. The beginning was tough, it took a while to find myself again, find the motivation to live, you know? Spent the first while tubed, on constant watch, couldn't even pee by myself," she huffed out a laugh, "but it started getting easier. Lots of talking, no more secrets."

I winced, picturing Cat lying in that hospital bed again, forcing her to survive. My eyes caught the thick scar running down her arm and stayed focused there for a moment.

"Actually, Stevie, you guys coming to visit made the biggest difference. You only get to leave if you're doing well in the program. And after you guys came, I didn't want to mess up coming home and getting to spend a couple days with all of you."

I smiled back at her, glad to have my best friend back. Thought about how much more alive she looked now, the spark in her eyes that had been missing a few months ago was back, along with the color in her cheeks. I felt hope bloom in my chest, wondered briefly if it was too soon to think everything was okay.

"I missed you, Cat."

"Missed you too, Stevie," she murmured, rolling to lay her head on my arm.

--

Billy's POV

Max had dressed for the occasion, I realized when she crept into my room late in the evening. She had picked out all black clothes and looked like she had walked out of a cheesy spy movie.

"Maxine," I smirked, "I think you hang out with those nerds too much."

She grinned and stuck her tongue out at me, "shut up. You ready?"

Slowly, we slid out of my bedroom window and crept to my car to make our getaway. Safe inside my car, Max couldn't stop talking and laughing, whooping like a maniac. We arrived back at Cat's house to join them on the pile of pillows and blankets in the living room. Steve and Max didn't even make it through the first movie before they were snoring loudly. Cat was leaning against my chest, resting her hand lightly on Steve's shoulder while Max held onto her leg. I wanted to lay here forever, basking in the moment, except I couldn't.

"Babe," I whispered into her hair, "can we talk?"

I felt her shoulders tense up suddenly as she nodded, "yeah, okay."

Cat carefully slid away from Max and Steve to follow me to her room. I sat down on the edge of her bed, eyes locked on the floor where Steve had been sobbing after cleaning the bathroom. Remembered how panic had taken over me when I saw her, how destroyed I'd been after.

"B, what's going on?"

She twisted her fingers together as she sat down, just far enough away that we weren't touching. She was guarding herself, thinking the worst.

"Cat, are you really okay? I just...I don't think I can go through that again.."

I watched the tension drop from her shoulders as she reached forward to grab my hand, "I'm okay, I promise."

Tears welled in my eyes, the image of her dying burned into my mind. I grit my teeth to hold myself back from sobbing, clutching at her hand as tight as I could. I didn't want to let go of her ever again, afraid of what might happen if she stumbled in her recovery and I wasn't there.

"Hey," she soothed, pulling me into her arms, "hey, it's okay. I'm getting better, I am. I wouldn't have been able to come home if I wasn't ready. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I hurt you, B, I didn't mean to. It wasn't your fault, you have to know that.."

Cat's small hand rested on the side of my face and gentled me up to look at her.

"B," she whispered, pressing kisses across my cheeks, taking away the tears that had streamed down, "none of this was your fault, I promise. I love you, I love you so much."

Slowly, she inched her lips closer to mine, dragging her soft skin across my cheek until her mouth closed over mine. I slid my hands up her back to hold her gently as I returned the kiss, wishing I could let how much she meant to me pour through my skin. Cat crawled forward to straddle my lap, making a low groan build in my throat.

I tore myself away, breaking the kiss to press our foreheads together, breathing hard as I tried to control myself, "Cat.."

"B," she breathed, "I'm okay," she leaned into me to kiss down the pulse of my neck, "I want you."

I sighed, turning my head to allow her better access to my throat and wondered if she could feel how quickly my pulse was pounding. Panic turned to heat, spreading throughout my body.

I twisted my hand into her hair when she started to leave a purple chain behind, "Cat..I-"

Cat shushed me softly and ran her thumb over my lips, mumbling into my neck, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, B."

I swiped my tongue over her thumb and slowly slid one hand down her side to toy with the edge of her sweater before dipping under it and grabbing her soft skin. She nosed up my jaw to nip at my earlobe, breathing heavily as she ran a hand down my chest.

My breath hitched under her fingers, "Babe."

Cat drug her lips across my cheek to kiss the corner of my mouth before leaning back to look at me, "yeah?"

"Are you sure? We don't have to.."

She smiled and nodded, gently running her nails over my side, "yeah, I'm sure."

A surge of emotions flowed through me as I leaned forward to meet her lips again and tightened my grip on her hip, holding her close. I had to really focus to keep myself in check when she rolled her hips into me, to stop myself from losing control and pushing her too far. Cat was breathing heavily when she pulled back to grab the bottom of my shirt and pull it off me. She ran her fingers up the muscles of my chest and stopped with the palm of her hand flat over my heart to hold my gaze for a moment. Gently, she pushed me until my back hit the blankets of her bed and then sat back in my lap. Cat let out a puff of air, bracing herself before pulling her sweater off so she was just in her bra. The last time I saw her without clothes on, she was so fragile, looked so close to death, but now, now the gaps between her bones weren't so prominent and she looked so much more alive. She crossed her arms in front of her chest to hide her scars, her eyes misting as she suddenly became self conscious under my gaze.

"Cat," I soothed, sitting back up to grab her hands, "Baby, you're beautiful. You don't need to hide from me."

"You don't think I'm...dirty...or broken?"

I pulled one of her arms towards me, kissing the middle of her palm and then slowly ran my lips up her arm, along the lifted pink scar until I reached her elbow. I raised my eyes to hers, my lips still on her skin when I murmured, "never. I love you, so fucking much..you know that, right? You're everything to me."

Cat smiled, her chin wavering a little as she watched me, nodding slowly, "yeah."

I slid my hands up to her face and pulled her over me as I leaned back down to the bed, bringing her lips back to mine. She breathed in shakily and wrapped her hands around my neck, holding me tightly. My tongue swiped across her bottom lip slowly before she opened her mouth to me, humming softly. Cat's legs hitched up to my hips to straddle me and I slid one hand down the side of her body to rest on her hip, toying with the waistband of her pants. Slowly, Cat's hand left my neck to trail down my chest, stopping when her fingertips hit my jeans. Her lips left mine to kiss down my face and suck a small bruise into the skin under my jaw as her hand slid into my pants to lightly grip my cock.

"Fuck," I groaned, my hips pressing up into her hand.

It's been so long since being touched, even longer since having sex with anyone and I realized now, when my cock kicked just from a hand sliding over it, that I was not going to last. A whine left my throat when she stroked me and I felt the puff of air leave her lips when she chuckled into my neck.

"Let me make you feel good, B," she whispered.

She pulled her hand out of my pants to slide down my body, lips trailing down the dip in my chest and over my abs until her chin touched denim. A grin played on her lips as she nosed along my hip before leaving another bruise as she undid my pants. Small fingers curled into my pants to tug them down, freeing my aching dick. Her hot tongue slid up my shaft, making me gasp when she flicked at the tip.

"Please," I whined, "fuck, Cat, please."

She hummed and wrapped her lips around my dick, slowly sliding up and down, coating me in her saliva. I gasped when I slid into the wet heat of her throat, quickly sending me careening towards release. My hand curled into her hair, trying to gently pull her off with a low whine.

Cat pulled off my cock, leaving it glistening deliciously with saliva and looked up at me, "it's okay, let go, B. Let me take care of you now."

It didn't take much longer when she took me back into her throat for me to be biting back my groans as I spilled into her mouth. She pulled off my cock and nuzzled her way back up my body, trailing kisses along my chest. When her lips reached mine, she rolled her hips into my half hard dick, making me moan into her mouth.

"You okay?" I panted against her lips, "you need to stop?"

Cat kissed the corner of my mouth quickly, "I'm okay, I want to."

I wrapped my hands around her shoulders and hitched up to roll us over, laying her down in the pillows. Her breathing started getting faster as I kissed down her body, trailing my lips between her breasts, over her stomach to the hem of her pants. I slowly undid her pants and started pulling them down, watching her face as I did, making sure she wasn't starting to panic. Cat had pulled her lip between her teeth and gotten dewy eyed by the time I had slid her pants off and dropped them on the floor.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," I soothed, moving up her body to hold her face, "you're okay. You tell me to stop and we stop, okay?"

She nodded slightly, and I knew she was just this side of panicking when I kissed down her neck to her chest. I slid my hands under her back to release the clasp of her bra and pulled it off her arms, dropping it to the floor to palm at her breasts.

"You're okay," I murmured into her skin, trailing kisses across her chest as I kept talking, "I love you...so much, Cat."

I trailed down her stomach, inching closer to her panty line, "you're everything to me."

I hooked my fingers into her underwear, my lips pressed to the light scars on her hip as I pulled them off of her. Her hands slid up to press the heels of her palms into her eyes with a shakey breath. My lips dragged over hips and thighs, kissing over her scars tenderly, keeping my eyes on her face and purposefully staying away from her most sensitive area.

"You with me?"

It took a moment for Cat to let out a shuddering breath and move her hands away from her face, wiping away the few tears that had pooled there.

"I'm here, I'm okay," she breathed.

I smiled against the inside of her leg, "what do you want, Baby? Keep going?" I kissed further up her thigh, "stop?" the sensitive skin before her core, "or I could keep this up.."

The corner of her mouth twitched up as she moaned, "come up here, B."

I pressed a chaste kiss above her slit before moving back up her body to nose along her wavering chin. Her mouth found mine as she pressed a hand to my shoulder, pushing me back until I was sitting against the headboard with her in my lap. Cat's breathing quickened when she rolled her hips against me and I reached a hand up to cup the side of her face, my other hand on her back, holding her close to me. If the last thing I ever heard was the moan that fell from her lips when she sank down on me, I would die happy. It was a sound that I could spend forever listening to, would have dreams about. Her eyes welled up with tears before she dropped her head to my shoulder, clutching at my shoulders as she kept her hips moving. I held her tightly as she whined and moaned into me, whispering curses and I love you's into her hair. Cat slowly calmed down, the tension leaving her body as she was brought closer to an orgasm. She bit into my shoulder as she came and I was soon to follow, a low whine in my throat as my hips thrust up into her.

We laid together for a while, limbs tangled and panting as we came down from our high. Cat started to shake when the high of her orgasm wore off, no longer able to push down her panic.

"Hey, hey," I soothed, smoothing my hand down her back, "you okay?"

Her head shaking was the only answer I got before I pulled her tight to my chest. Her hands balled into fists against me as I continued to rub her back and whisper to her. It took a while before she would slump against me, taking in deep shakey breaths.

"You with me?"

She sniffed and nodded, "y-yeah, yeah I'm okay."

"Wanna get cleaned up?"

Her arms tightened around me, not wanting to let go and I couldn't help the smile that came to my face.

"Alright, I'll carry you," I murmured, shifting my legs off the bed so I could stand up.

I carried her into the bathroom and managed to set her down on the edge of the tub long enough to start the shower water, though she was still clutching at my arm, not letting me go completely. With the water warmed up, I turned to gather her back into my arms and led her into the spray. We had sex again in the shower before going back to Cat's room and cuddling up on her bed, tangled in each other. She fell asleep in my arms soon after getting comfortable and I knew I should also try to sleep but I just couldn't bring myself to miss a second of her. I stayed awake as long as I could, just tracing the lines of her body and listening to the even sound of her breathing before I fell asleep.

Julie woke me up when she got home, early enough that the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. I groaned and wrapped my arms tighter around Cat, not ready to be without her again.

"Billy, Sweetie, you should get your sister home before anyone wakes up," she whispered, her soft hand on my shoulder.

I huffed and nodded, "thanks, Julie."

She smiled and ran her hand down Cat's hair, "you can all come back later. Spend a little more time together before I bring her back in the morning."

She started to leave and then stopped at the door to look back at me, "Billy?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For being there for her. You and Steve, you two are the reason I still have my daughter."

I smiled a little, not knowing what to say before she left me to get up. Cat was still half asleep when I pulled away from her and whined at my absence. I smirked and pulled a pillow down into her arms for her to nuzzle into before kissing her temple and sliding off the bed to get dressed.

"B..?"

"Ssh, go back to sleep," I whispered, bending down to kiss her forehead, "I gotta get home. I'll come back though, okay?"

"Okay.." she mumbled, pulling the pillow in tighter to her.

--

Max and I made it home in time, partially because I'd carried her to and from my car instead of waiting for her to wake up. Her eyes wouldn't stay open long enough for her to walk so when I pushed her through the window she immediately curled up in my bed and went back to sleep. I chuckled softly before pulling the blanket over her and settling in beside her.

--

Cat went back to the hospital the next morning and spent another month in the rehab program. But she eventually came home and was so much healthier and happier when she did. She came back to school with us and would have to do extra courses at home in order to graduate on time but she didn't mind. Steve and I were happy to sit and help her with the work whenever we could. We watched Steve graduate a few months later and gathered at his house with the kids to celebrate. He found a job at the mall a while after and started saving up to move out. The three of us would still be together as much as possible, we were basically inseparable until Cat and I graduated. Then the subject of moving came up again.

"Where do you wanna go, Baby?"

"I thought your plan was California, B," she smiled.

"Yeah, but is that what you want? We don't have to go if you don't want to, I'll change my plan for you if you ask me to."

She leaned into my shoulder, "I want to go with you...sit on the beach...lay in the sun...but.."

My shoulders tensed, "but?"

Cat looked down at her hands and twisted her fingers together, "I think we should ask Steve to come with us...it doesn't feel right to leave him behind."

Honestly, I was glad she asked. The three of us had been through so much together and I couldn't imagine one of us not being there. Steve was the only guy I could turn to and I didn't want to lose that, nor did I want to separate him and Cat. Moving across the country would probably be hard on Cat, not knowing anybody, if Steve came with us it would be easier. The three of us were each other's family now.

I exhaled the tension from my body and turned to kiss the top of her head, "we'll need to find a bigger apartment. "

@charmed-asylum

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove fic #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove smut #steve harrington #billy hargrove fanfic #fanfiction

[typinggently]

I have never watched that show. How much background info I should look up to enjoy your Sam x Dean fiction?

Dearest, that’s so sweet ahhh 🥺🥺 Honestly, I’m so honoured that you’re willing to dive into unknown waters for me 🌹🌹🌹 I wrote up a short introduction! ✨

The basics are as follows: Sam and Dean are the sons of John and Mary Winchester, with Dean being 4 years older. After Mary’s supernatural death when Dean is 5, John sweeps his children into his car and leaves the burning corpse of their normal life behind, with a sweltering pain inside of him. Driven by fear for his sons and the burning need for revenge, John raises his sons as hunters and in motel rooms. There is, and that is crucial, no resemblance of a normal life for any of them after Mary’s death.

If we’re speaking in very basic terms, Dean is the daredevil womanising Marlboro Man, complete with muscle car and leather jacket, and Sam is the more soft-spoken smart one who eats salad and has glossy-soft hair. (However, of course, Dean is fiercely family-oriented, protective, good with children. Sam started out with a rebellious streak and is still capable of great violence when he doesn’t keep himself in check. Also Dean’s the type to gaze dreamily into his girl’s eyes and hold her hand as she rides him and Sam’s one night stands are mostly of the ‘rip off your shirt and hit it from behind’ kind.)

~🖤~

Considering there are 15 seasons to choose from, people have (naturally) picked up certain elements that they find most enjoyable. There’s a good deal of people who watch it as a (romantic) comedy.

I personally enjoy the American gothic horror, the way those two are entangled beyond comprehension and, at times, indistinguishable from the monsters they hunt. Even if my fics have different topics or are lighthearted and honey-dripping, the base note is always this: their relationship, due to nature and nurture, is incredibly obsessive. Their world has been reduced to the two of them in the confines of the car or the ever-changing motel rooms, ever since they were little. Dean’s purpose in life was to protect and care for Sam, Sam’s purpose in life was to let that happen. There’s some resentment in that, sometimes you can feel them rebelling against this tangled, claustrophobic mess, but even if they fight and snarl and break up, they always return to one another and heal those cuts in their bond, which, in essence, only means that they settle back into their entangled, Janus-like double soul.

~🖤~

I’ll give you a brief summary of the first five seasons (the core of the show, at least to me), just to illustrate my point. Despite all else that happens, I think that is the foundation of the show, and thus, probably all you need to know to understand what I have in mind while I write.

🔥.1.🔥

The story begins with Sam at college, trying to establish a life away from the road and, in essence, Dean. That attempt of normality burns on the ceiling in the person of his girlfriend Jessica, repeat performance of when his mother’s body lit up his room 21 years ago. Dean picks him up and he goes back to the car, to the life he tried to leave behind, and, essentially, to Dean. They follow a trail of breadcrumbs and coordinates John leaves them to eventually get back to him. They find John, find the demon that killed Mary, and, as the turn of a new chapter is right at their fingertips, get bulldozed by a truck.

����.2.🪦

Season two has Dean dying. John can’t let that happen, so he finds the demon responsible for taking everything (his wife, his life, his son) from him to trade his own soul and the only thing that could kill said demon for Dean. John dies, Dean lives, and has to live with that guilt. Just like John, he turns to hunt down the demon responsible for taking everything (his mother, his life, his father). Sam starts having visions, a power grows inside of him that he can’t begin to understand and is incredibly frightened by. The demon sweeps in to steal him away, and Dean comes just in time to catch Sam, powerful and dying, in his arms. Just like John, Dean goes to trade his life. He’s promised one year on Earth, eternity in hell after. Reunited, revived, they find the demon responsible for taking everything and with the help of their father’s soul, kill him. John goes to heaven, Sam goes on living, Dean knows he’s going to hell.

⏳.3.⏳

In season three, Sam lives and has to live with what Dean did. He desperately tries to find a cure, a solution, anything. He finds Ruby, instead, a demon who promises him all three. It doesn’t work, the overly-powerful demon Lilith who was promised Dean after one year, comes and gets him. Sam watches helplessly as Dean is torn apart, then holds him, warm but cooling, in his arms.

🩸.4.🩸

Season four finds Dean finding himself breathing underground. He digs himself out of his own grave and finds Sam and has to find out that Ruby found him first. It’s now that we learn who found Dean and raised him out of hell: Castiel, unkillable, unfathomable, unbelievable. Dean, who never believed in God, now has to learn that there’s a biblical plan laid out for Sam and him. Meanwhile, Castiel, who always believed and is starting to doubt, tries to find God, who’s responsible for it all, but vanished. Meanwhile, Sam is drawn closer and closer to Ruby, by Ruby. While Castiel raised Dean out of hell, Ruby found Sam on Earth and wrapped herself around him, offering a shoulder to cry on and a wrist to drink from. Sam, who wasn’t strong enough to save Dean, quickly gets addicted to demon blood, which makes him stronger than humanely possible — and, in Dean’s eyes, less human. He falls for Ruby and falls for her scheme, which leads to him breaking the seal that kept Lucifer contained, starting what will lead to the end of everything. Ruby’s life ends with Sam’s arms wrapped around her, holding her still as Dean sinks her own knife into her.

⌛️.5.⌛️

Season five leads to the end of the world, with Heaven and Hell trying to convince Sam and Dean to follow the plan written for them: Sam is destined to be Lucifer’s vessel, give over his body to him, while Dean is meant to do the same for Michael. They are meant to fight and kill each other, and thus decide the fate of everything, heaven, hell and earth. They refuse. Dean refuses to let Michael enter and use him, forcing heaven to manipulate their half-brother Adam to step into his big brother’s shoes. Sam invites Lucifer in, but refuses to do as he’s told and breaks the Devil’s hold over him to sacrifice himself and Adam and save everything. It ends with Sam, Adam, Michael and Lucifer trapped for eternity in the cage Sam broke the seal of, and Dean, on Earth. Alone.

(Not quite, of course. Following Sam’s wish, he finds a life for himself, a woman and a child that isn’t his but close enough that Dean can pretend. Outside, in the dark, Sam watches.)

~🖤~

Voilà, that’s it. Sam and Dean kill and die for each other, sell their souls and humanity to save one another or repent for the fact that they couldn’t. There are many, many other stories interwoven there, for example the story of the amulet Sam was meant to gift their father when he was little, for protection. When John doesn’t show up to receive the gift, he gives it to Dean. For decades, the amulet is kept right against his heart, until it stops beating and Sam takes it off, to keep it warm and safe against his own chest. When Dean returns from hell, Sam, who was never able to believe that Dean was really gone, gives it back. Its journey ends where it began, in a motel room with Sam and Dean, when Dean, who finds his faith and hope to save them and the Earth crushed, takes it off and throws it away.

(And a quick look at s6: Dean has the orange juice for breakfast, scent of freshly cut grass life Sam wanted for him for one year, until Sam comes to collect him again. After spending an eternity in the cage with Lucifer (and Adam and Michael, who presumably sat in their corner and made out while Sam was being skinned like Marsyas), Sam was lifted out (by Castiel), but lost his soul and the memories of his torment in the process. What does it mean for one to lose one’s soul, what happens to that person? Sam stops sleeping, he stops caring what other people think, he stops caring for other people in general. He’s an incredibly efficient hunter and spends most of his (limitless, sleepless) time hunting, exercising, or having sex. Despite this empty, cold shell his brother has been reduced to, Dean drops his life of dinner at eight and slow morning sex to join Sam, and gets broken up with over the phone for being too attached to Sam.)

~🖤~

This got quite long after all, but I hope this got the idea across! Those two are very fascinating characters and I love them dearly. Twisted little clowns.

#this got long even though I tried to be brief u.u #clown boys #wincest

[zeromora]

Thoughts on 1.4 Archon Quest

Khaenri’ah, Dainsleif, Aether & Lumine, and the Seven archons: Recaps, thoughts and theories. 

These are what I gathered and my deduction so please take them with a grain of salt. 

CW // Spoilers for Archon Quest Chapter I Act IV: We Will Be Reunited 

- MC has the memory of Khaenri’ah which was destroyed 500 years ago. This confirms that Aether & Lumine are at least over 500 years old. The CN script also shows that Aether is the older of the two. (Lumine calling him Gege/Older brother and Aether calling her Meimei/Younger sister.)

- The Battle Pass Cutscene mentioned about the first crowned heir being deceived and believing that she was the queen of the kingdom of darkness. This is very likely alluded to Lumine and Khaenri’ah. (As Aether seems to be the MC in this cutscene and MHY’s preview of the Teyvat chapters.) 

Once there was a glorious kingdom established among the heavens. From that kingdom came a crowned heir, tasked with seeking out the Genesis Pearl from the Kingdom of Darkness. The first crowned heir began her journey seeking pearl. But she was deceived, and the memory of her noble origins faded. She now believed that she was the queen of the Kingdom of Darkness. But take heart, a second crowned heir had already taken the path where the first had stumbled. This is the story of your journey of your tale to be told.

(ETA: Some mentioned that the BP cutscene might not refer to MC and their twin due to the female one being the younger one. While it is also plausible that the cutscene might be talking about other characters, it doesn’t completely disprove that the cutscene isn’t about MC and their twin either. Because the terms ‘first’ and ‘second’ crowned heirs do not always mean the first crowned heir is the older of the two.)

- Dainsleif mentioned that it was the gods that destroyed Khaenri’ah. From what we gather, Khaenri’ah was 1) a country without a god to begin with, and 2) advanced in technology (apparently beyond the current Teyvat), it is likely that Celestia’s excuse to destroy it was either the hubris of humans or Khaenri’ah was advancing in the direction that wasn’t beneficial to Celestia. Could be both.  

- The lore of Bloodstained Chivalry also mentioned that the curse upon the kingdom of darkness is unjust. 

He ventured into the fallen ancient kingdom, and died in battle in the monsters' lair. At the bottom of the world, he learned the origin of the monsters that destroyed the ancient kingdom.

"The ancient kingdom was wrongfully cursed,"

"Turning its inhabitants into monsters."

"The code of chivalry tolerates not such injustice."

"If Abyss be thy name, I pledge to you my loyalty."

Still, for a nation that ‘fought for land with steel and blood’ (See: Field Tiller), is the curse place upon Khaenri’ah truly unjust? And if it is indeed unjust, what are the reasons for Khaenri’ah’s war waging and for Lumine to empathize with its cause after its destruction? Is she really deceived/corrupted? 

- Lumine mentioned having journeyed through Teyvat before, but when she woke Aether up, it was the Cataclysm already. So the world Lumine had travelled was the world before the destruction of Khaenri’ah. This implies that it’s likely she knows (some if not all of) the seven archons. (Previous Dendro archon died ~500 years ago). 

Zhongli might know something, but whether he chooses to speak of it remains a question. This might also relate to why he gave his gnosis to the Tsaritsa. 

- Dain said it was the gods that descended upon the earth and destroyed Khaenri’ah, but there is no evidence (and the lack thereof) whether any of the Seven was involved in this. But it is possible that the Cataclysm might be related to the death of the previous Dendro god. 

I think Dain’s negative opinions of the Seven is more from the Seven's relationship with Celestia. He speaks of gods as collective rather than an individual.

- Celestia is foreshadow to be the actual antagonist? (Or at least, the cyclical system that should be ended?) The nature of the world(s) Celestia has been creating/controlling is cyclical. Civilization has been built and destroyed over and over again (See: Tiara of Frost). An interesting question here is whether the Seven Archons system has been implemented before the current Teyvat. 

Personally, I believe that the Seven system is exclusive to the current Teyvat due to the occurrence of the Archon War. Not only do the seven seats let Celestia control the direction of humanity through the Seven, Celestia can also monitor the gods. 

(Possible) Chain of Authority:

Celestia >>> The Seven Archons >>> Gods that accepted the rule of the Seven >>> Humanity 

Note (1): Gods that refused to be under the rule of the Seven fled from the continent of Teyvat and became evil gods.

Note (2): The fact that Tsaritsa only planned to rebel against Celestia after the Catacylsm 500 years ago could mean that not all gods have an idea about what Celestia is up to, at least until the destruction of Khaenri’ah.

- The Seven Archons are tasked with the responsibility to guide humanity. However, with the newer generation of archons not interested in the obligation to guide humanity, with Venti originally leaving Monstadt free of its rulers and Zhongli retiring, how important to Celestia is actually this duty? 

Perhaps Celestia never means for humanity to prosper to the point of challenging the heavens from the start? As long as the civilizaion doesn’t advance in the direction that Celestia finds undesirable, it is acceptable? 

Note (3): Rex Lapis’ death and Zhongli giving away his gnosis means that there will be no new Geo Archon to replace him. Consequently, this makes Liyue godless city but a nation run by humans. However, Liyue has yet to incur the wrath from Celestia for the time being.

- How omnipotent is Celestia? Is the eye of Celestia all-seeing? Does Celestia even know the Tsaritsa is collecting gnoses? And what about Rex Lapis faking his death? Does Celestia even know his death was fake? If so, has Celestia begun an operation, a counter-measure, against the possible rebellion and/or the Abyss? 

- Also, at the end of the quest, Dain chased after Lumine with the Eye of the First Tiller with him and the upside-down Venti Statue was still not destroyed. Are we still getting mecha-Osial? (They mention the attachment of Osial’s limbs to the statue, does this mean the abyss plans to dissect Osial first? Poor thing. I can only hope they leave him alone.)

#genshin impact #dainsleif #aether #lumine #zhongli #the tsaritsa #gi: thoughts and theories

[earbuds-and-hightops]

An Open Letter to Supernatural

[ Spoiler warning for 15x20, obviously ]

I understand that a well-contemplated complaint about this ending cannot be made without first reading the original, pre-COVID, script of 15x20, but in the long run, the initial plan is not what will be remembered. 

What will be remembered is what this show created. What it became beyond two brothers driving around the country, hunting monsters. Characters were introduced and developed, and in that, Sam and Dean Winchester become so much more than two kids living on the road. In the past 15 years, the cast, and thus the family, grew to something that would be unimaginable to those who started this project back in 2005. Not only did the characters and their stories become meaningful, but the show itself grew into, well, a family. The fans who have kept this show alive since Day 1 have come together to form what I believe is the greatest community in pop culture. 

What hurts the most is that this finale did not do any of that development justice. 

The finale (and consequently the episodes leading up to it) reverts back to the story between only Sam and Dean. While some see this as an ode to who they are--their brotherhood and familial bond being the heart of their values and the root of their characters--I cannot help but see this as a rejection of their experiences this past decade and a half. 

What’s worse, episode 15x18 confirmed one of the most pure and powerful and goddamn beautiful romances that television will ever see. This story of an angel who abandoned his family and the only beings he’s known for thousands of years, all for one person. I knew from the instant the screen faded to black on November 5 that the story of Castiel will always be remembered, even if his feelings were unrequited. Castiel will always be remembered. 

And then there’s Destiel. I was genuinely impressed that this show would even grow to include a queer angel, more importantly, a queer character in a leading role. The queer-baiting and the “bury your gays” trope both make this confession and its lack of acknowledgement that much worse (and is worthy of an entirely separate open letter for another night). It matters less if Dean does or doesn’t reciprocate these feelings and more that it’s wrong that he completely ignores it. Cas’s love confession, this beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful emotion coming from a being who wasn’t supposed to feel emotions at all, is something that, unfortunately, will become a secret that dies with Dean Winchester. 

It’s truly a shame that the writers of this show let that happen. 

We haven’t even touched the fact that Castiel’s death was an act of sacrifice to save Dean. Dean’s limited reaction and lack of mourning* tears apart this phrase that has become pivotal to the entire show and fanbase: “Family don’t end in blood.” While it would be a lot to ask that Dean rescue Cas from the Empty and resume their cycle of rescue and resurrection, I think it’s only fair that Dean take the time to fully accept Castiel’s actions and words for what they mean instead of simply moving forward as if they never happened.

What’s more, Misha Collins is one of the greatest and kindest people in this world, and he’s poured his heart and soul into Supernatural, just like everybody else. He’s spent 12 years on this project, and the final two episodes hardly mentioned his character. He didn’t deserve this. It’s heartbreaking that his last credit on this show will be a prank call from someone trying to impersonate him, and not something that pays tribute to such an important character and important actor**

The most devastating part of this ending is what happened in 15x19. Pardon my French when I say that that episode, the ultimate climax of the season and latter half of the series, was a piece of dog shit. It’s incredibly frustrating to invest in 15 years worth of television and look forward to this ultimate battle between two average boys and God the Almighty Himself and to instead watch a 6-minute long fist fight on the beach with the only dialogue being variations of “seriously guys, stay down.” 

My issues with 15x19 lie less in the storyline that was chosen and more in how they were presented. I am completely on board with Jack taking God’s power and eventually becoming the new God, but the episode was far too quick to have any real meaning, and, as stated before, Castiel’s sacrifice, which allows Sam, Dean, and Jack to do what they do in 15x19, is hardly mentioned.

Most fans agree that 15x19 was far too quickly paced. The plot with Michael and Lucifer was questionable to begin with, but should have been an episode on its own if it were to be perused at all. Michael’s story in particular could have been fleshed out to reiterate this theme of overly loyal sons and their fathers, as well as their relationships with less loyal siblings, but was instead reduced to about 20 minutes of screen time. 

Though this is less important, Lucifer’s plan to make a new Death felt like a cheap cop-out just to close the storyline with Death’s book, but we can finish that discussion another day. 

The general fan reaction to this atrocity of an episode was that this was meta, and according to Becky, the ending was supposed to be dog shit. This, along with the untouched storyline started when Cas died, gave fans so much hope that the finale would be this amazing piece of art that puts Supernatural in the history books. 

While it’s obvious that an hour cannot perfectly tie up every single event and arc with a pretty little bow, it can at least...try. Any finale should, at minimum, pay tribute to what the show started as (which 15x20 did well) and what it became (which 15x20 failed to do miserably). 

In addition, a reference to character back in season 1 is incredibly frustrating when recurring characters with actual, well, character go unnoticed. I mostly reference Eileen here, but this also applies to Jody and Donna. Nobody even mentions the other wonderful friends who have helped Sam and Dean along their journey to Heaven. If family doesn’t end in blood, then why doesn’t it extend to include Castiel, Jack, Mary, Rowena, Charlie, Kevin, Jody and her girls, Donna, and so many others?

Dean’s death was sad, I’ll give them that (and honestly, I was expecting it). However, considering that this man has defeated apocalypses, killed Death, and taken down God, his death via nail in the wall was incredibly anticlimactic, and something that could literally have happened at any point over the 15 seasons. While Dean’s death was obviously not my ideal ending, I think it could have worked if it were done properly, and in this case, it was not. That said, I do appreciate that Sam did not try to bring Dean back, as that would indicate literally no growth at all.

Dean’s funeral was...pathetic, to say the least. Sam being the only person there was depressing considering that Dean had lots of other close friends (and you’d think that Jack would pay his respects, but apparently not), however, this is likely a scene that was impacted by COVID and the availability of some of the cast, so I will not dwell on that scene.

Dean’s time in Heaven complicates matters even more. Firstly, Bobby confirms that Castiel is no longer in the Empty and has been in contact with Jack. I would have loved to see this reunion; Cas is essentially Jack’s father, and I would have loved to see how their upgrading/remodeling of Heaven brought them closer together. I understand that the writers were trying to focus this finale story on the brothers, this goes back to my earlier point that you cannot simply ignore everything that that this show has grown to include. Bobby’s explanation also begs the question of why Dean had no intention of seeing Cas (or Jack, for that matter) again now that he has the opportunity.

Secondly, Dean’s instinct to go directly for the Impala was very in-character, however, the editing implied that driving was all Dean did until Sam died. As we know, Sam dies of old age, likely (completely guessing here) upwards of 40-50 years from Dean’s death, and that is a very, very long time for Dean to simply driving around the mountains. It would have been nice to see Dean reunite with other family and friends who are also in Heaven, however, again, COVID restraints.

Sam’s ending was similar to what I and a lot of other fans imagined (not necessarily wanted, but predicted) it to be: kids and a wife, living a normal, monster-free, life. I hate to believe that he doesn’t end up with Eileen (to my recollection, his wife was a blur in the background, and it is unclear if she was meant to be Eileen) however that might just be my bias and appreciation of Shoshannah Stern. While I’m glad that this storyline gave Sam the room to grow and develop without his brother, it also completely ignores everything that he’s been through this past decade and a half, and that is something that should not happen. Sam grew and changed so much since he left Stanford and leaving that life, the life of a hunter, behind feels very counterintuitive.

Let’s not even discuss the wig that Jared wore. It reminded me of the Cain wig that Rob wore in the Hillywood parody.

What shocked me the most at the beginning of this episode was the lack of a “The Road So Far” compilation. I hoped for the full song with a recap of all 15 seasons, or, at minimum, the typical single-season recap. “Carry On My Wayward Son” is such an important part of the show and the culture of the fan base, that it seems almost sacrilegious that the season finale not begin with this song and a memorial to the events in the past season (or series).*** I’m very happy that it was included at all, but I was shocked when Neoni’s cover took over.

No disrespect to Neoni; those girls are incredibly talented and I love their music, however, a series finale of a 15 season long show does not feel like the place for a cover when they already have the rights to the original, and the original is so iconic.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge Jensen Ackles’s reaction to this conclusion. At a con panel about a year ago, he said that he needed to be talked into agreeing to this script by Erik Kripke himself, because the ending just wasn’t sitting right with him. So many fans took this to believe that he was homophobic and afraid that of Destiel becoming fully canon, and he got so much more hate than he deserved, because ultimately, he was right in his first opinion. This isn’t the way this story should have ended. Jensen explained that he had been “too close” to the story, and that it took a more holistic view from a step backwards (the audience’s perspective, as he puts it) to agree on this ending, but honestly, nobody knows Dean Winchester better than Jensen, and he knows what’s best and what would be the best way to finish this character’s arc. I think fans and Jensen alike agree that this wasn’t it.

I sympathize with all of the cast and crew members who disagree with how this show ended but are bounded by contract to support this show no matter what. Especially Misha and Jensen.

Over all, I believe that Supernatural will go down in history (in internet communities, at least) as one of the greatest shows ever. While I do agree that the writing quality in terms of both dialogue and plot declined as years passed, the community, the family, that this show created cannot be ignored because of a poorly written/planned ending. I think that the fandom will collectively let go of this disaster of an ending that we were given and will, just like Sam and Dean, write our own stories. I have full faith and confidence that Supernatural will not be represented by this finale episode, but by the beautiful stories, amazing characters, and the family that this show created and what the fans have chosen to do with it.

Sincerely,

A Fiercely Frustrated but Fiercely Loyal Fan

* I do not count that last clip of Dean crying on the floor as mourning. In my mind, that was a reaction, not an emotional healing and overcoming, if that makes sense. I argue that if Dean were to fully mourn and process everything (like Sam did in 15x20) we would have seen at least a bit of that on screen. 

** This is where I would have loved to see some of the original scripts. I hope that the writers initial intentions were to have Misha more involved in these last two episodes than what was likely a voice memo created in 10 minutes tops at Misha’s house.

*** The strange montage at the end of 15x19 makes so much more sense. I still would have preferred that montage at the beginning of 15x20. This also shines light on the video that Misha posted. What would we do without him :)

#supernatural #spn #spn season 15 #spn finale #spn 15x20 #an open letter #no beta we die as men #destiel #deancas #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #erik kripke #robert singer #andrew dabb #that god awful finale #i spent 4 hours drafting this

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risk another goodbye

title: risk another goodbye pairing: chae hyungwon/reader genre: ex!au/strangers to lovers!au/app!au summary: Her phone recommends her this app to help others break up with their partner, and it sounds absolutely like the worst idea she could ever have, but it’s the most interesting one at the moment. The problem starts when she breaks up with a guy on behalf of his girlfriend only to realize that he is not bad looking and he’s pretty funny…she wonders, though, how could someone break up with Chae Hyungwon? type: angst/fluff/romance/humor word count: 16,257 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The collision of sunrays against her hair, long flowery dress and her moving lips should be bright—it should make her feel nourished, but instead, with each moment that passes with a tight smile on her face and her hands frantically moving to push her subject across, she knows no amount of sunshine could brighten the faces of the teenagers in front of her. Uninterested, they clearly are, some looking down at their hidden phones, others simply nodding at whatever she says and when she asks for answers to specific motivational questions, ones that she had learned in her few years in the field, the replies are short. This shouldn’t make her fidgety—more than usual—but to be unheard is one of the feelings that she still doesn’t get used to when she is supposed to be motivating these high school seniors to be the best version of themselves.

But who really is the best version of themselves? Not even herself, a whole motivational speaker.

Normally, she likes to believe she is a happy person. Somewhat smiley, likes getting out of the bed and meet up with someone of her preference simply to feel like she is alive, finds comfort in people and in her atmosphere—her job, in which she always has to look at the positive, not giving herself the time to think about the negatives in her life. Breathing should be enough, being healthy should be enough, but sometimes she seeks for something else. A new look, maybe, perhaps a new outlook in life, something that is not talking all the time but actually listening. Sometimes, she’d rather have the world go quiet, slower, much unlike what she seeks for in her daily life. Always fidgety, jumping at her feet, blaming herself if being too lazy and moving on to the next person to motivate. If she could do it, anyone else could.

Do what exactly? She has no idea. Perhaps, have a job that she likes, heels clicking on the flooring as she grabs a few students and makes them trust one another. Ah, that—she has friends that she can trust, and perhaps a rent that gets paid, some student loans that eventually will disappear into the thin distance if she keeps this going, working in making people better. She doesn’t have a car, but she has the will to move back from whenever she is to her home and she has warm food in her stomach most of the time. What she doesn’t have, however, is that energy that usually comes from beneath her, and while her limbs are moving the majority of the time, hating nothing more than to be still, and it is all thanks to…a break-up.

Yes, the motivational speaker, endlessly happy woman that is telling students to seek for nothing more than the brightness beneath themselves had broken up with her boyfriend of seven years not too long ago. Three weeks, four days, seven hours…probably twenty minutes.

Sometimes, she’d rather have the will inside of her to not smile, to frown and tell all these people that no one has it figured out. That no one, no enthusiastic person, can take away their opportunity of living their lives without always being optimistic—sadness shall be felt, cured, kissed until it healed, it shall be a badge to be proud of when it’s done for instead of being pushed into the back of someone’s head, but that is exactly what she does. Three weeks, four days, seven hours, twenty-one minutes, this relationship doesn’t have to matter.

At some point, the talk is over. She has given enough bullshit for these guys, with quotes from people who also didn’t have anything sorted out in their lives, for it to be over. Almost like a balloon deflating at the sound of the recess bell, she lets the breath she was holding let go on her chest, the threads and knots on her lungs suddenly popping open, hands going towards the desk of the teacher on charge at the moment—the literature teacher, to be exact, one that she knows perfectly well and that immediately rests her palm on the expanse of her back.

“I told you not to do this.”

Moving, she always is, so the position changes rapidly, fingers fidgety as she speaks. “Seola, I’m fine.” She tells her, as always making it seem like everything is sorted out. That’s what heroes do, they put on their capes and have the world relying on the fact that they’d never be weakened. The woman with the short hair and similarly short height shook her head at her antics. “It’s just the lack of response—that’s all. I spoke and spoke and spoke, no one paid attention. It’s okay, this happens—”

Seola interrupts her by pushing a water bottle towards her hands, rolling her eyes at her hyperactive friend’s antics. “You know it’s not,” Seola says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You don’t care if some students don’t pay attention to you. You love talking all this psychology stuff and how much optimism has changed your life.” The tone of her friend’s voice downs her into a reality that she has been trying to avoid. Three weeks, four days. Three weeks, four days. Three weeks and four days without him. Optimism has been long gone, knowing to the best of her abilities that if the person that had stayed with her for seven years was unable to make it work with her, then she could not even last in any other relationship. “Really, there’s nothing wrong in accepting you’re not seeing the bright side of things for once. Talk to me.”

It’s in the way that she speaks, Seola, that shows exactly that she has a nice group of friends, a nice life…things that she should be grateful of. Even a nice boss, for all heaven’s sake, and she still has the right to complain about some break-up. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey—”

“It’s nothing.”

Seola’s patience runs short, clear as day, when she takes her by the wrist and lowers her to look into her eyes. The monotone voice of hers speaking nicely, even through her clear distress. “Breaking up with Tsubasa is exactly what needed to happen. Your relationship was toxic since years ago, you’d take breaks and then get back together, only to break up again. You two were tied down into getting back to the same routine, that would kill any kind of relationship.” The death of hers had hit her like a ton of bricks, knowingly so, and she had been the one to break it off. In between an argument, sure, and possibly thinking of all these motivational speeches about ‘letting go of the bad to look for something better’, and she had uttered it in a yell. The words still repeat in her head: I want to break up with you and never see you again. “…I get why you’re heartbroken because you spent seven years of your life with him, but he’s…not even that much of a guy to cry about.”

Cry, oh, she doesn’t think she has even let herself do such a thing. Restrained, positive, as she should be, she simply has continued on with her life as if nothing had happened. Cleaning her apartment spotless, making sure that there will never be a sign of her relationship, of the kisses or the fights, of the happiness and the disappointment alike. “I haven’t cried about him,” She states, wanting to make clear that this is no reason for her to be sad. “Seola, I mean it, I’m just…getting used to it, that’s all. Since I don’t have that constant responsibility by my side, I’m feeling a bit empty, that’s all.”

The woman in question fixes the rounded glasses on her face. “Are you sure about that?”

She nods rapidly, but not in a rush. “Of course. Nothing that can’t be filled with a girl’s night.”

The serious Seola seems to perk up at that, probably a bit freer now that graduation was approaching for her students and grading tests has become less of her priorities. “I really need one of those, too.” She speaks softly, letting out a chuckle as she helps the woman clean up her materials before she has to leave. “Do you think you can make it tonight? Our entire group should reunite in your apartment in celebration of your break-up.”

Celebration. That’s what it should be to finally be set free of an uptight relationship with none other than the man that had probably quickened the stage of getting white hairs in her life. “…I’ve got nothing to do, of course I can make it tonight.”

“Good,” Seola says, now nearing her to speak in a whisper. “I’d kill for some beers right now. This year’s class has been a headache.”

She laughs at that, cradling her textbooks near her chest before tilting her head to the side. “In any other occasion I would have told you that you always get headaches, but this group really is difficult.”

“So, beers?”

“Yeah, I could buy a few, you can pay me back for it later.”

“Excellent.”

Hours later, the sound of two of your friends huffing on the floor, drunken beyond reparation at this point, but still working out incessantly is the least of her worries. Seola and Miwoo are the ones doing push-ups on her flooring, possibly shouting the numbers louder than they should, probably on the verge of having her neighbors call her out for the noise. Doah, however, the least drunk of her friends, is now waiting for an application to stop downloading on her phone—she asked for it and she had given her to Doah, far more preoccupied on the root beer she had grabbed on her way to buying alcohol, looking at it swirling on the bottle she has been sipping on for the past half hour, thoughts loud even when she is accompanied.

She should be happy, thankful even, that her friends have stayed with her through thick and thin. That Miwoo, even when she is a well-known personal trainer, stays with her, the same goes for Seola and Doah, but that is far from the point. The expectations of having her life be bright at all times had made her feel sulky, almost like she can’t get out from this low of her current life. Sip, sigh. Those are the two actions that she has been doing while her friends are having fun and while two of them are too far gone to even notice how heartbroken she is, Doah’s fingers are gliding through her hair, playing with the ends, wanting nothing more than for her sighs to subside or change for relaxed breathing.

She’s alive, that should be enough of an excuse to smile…and she has been alive for the past seven years.

While does it feel like a part of her left, the moment she kicked Tsubasa out of their apartment?

A hundred percent, downloading. That’s what the screen reads when she gives a glimpse towards it, suddenly aware that Doah has stopped playing with her hair and is now looking at the screen with a smile. “Ladies, I’ve found an activity for us to do that doesn’t include getting abs.” She says with glee, Seola showing her gratitude while trying to push Miwoo away from her feet, kneeling down to keep her in place while doing some exercises.

“Thank God, I was about to die.” Seola announces, pushing Miwoo off her body before rushing towards the couch. Happiness, she feels like…though in a small gleam of a shooting star, brief, when Seola’s sweaty hands place themselves on her knees, cheek resting against her thighs as she tries to look at the screen of her phone in Doah’s hands. Miwoo follows soon after, not sweating quite as much as Seola is.

“W—What—?” A hiccup, probably coming from her drunkenness and what characterizes her as her ‘too-much’ gene. “What are we going to do?”

Doah fixes her stance, her black hair tied behind her head with a bun, patting the few baby hairs on the edges to settle them. Settled, just exactly what Doah is, in love with a man that adores her equally, that doesn’t mind a few nights out with her friends, that kisses the ring on her finger whenever they are holding hands and laughs too loudly at their jokes. Maybe, Doah is one of those lucky people who just have everything in life or…she just deserved it. Soft heart, realistic nature, seriousness, all things that describe her. “So, since the youngest of our team has been going through a tough break-up and questioning everything that has to do with life.”

Okay, so perhaps she should have gone for a beer instead of simplistic root beer. “That’s not the case.”

“It is.” Miwoo points out in a slur before nodding towards Doah. “What’s the plan? Strippers?”

“No.” Doah scrunches up her nose with a laugh before showing the screen to all the three women in front of her. “Break Them Up.” She reads, her phone showcasing an application much like a dating one, instantly showing bars to complete with matters such as name, age, ubication and such. “It’s an app my husband took part of. Basically, it has the mindset of a dating app but what makes it different is that people post pictures of their special someone or pictures of them as a couple and lists the other person’s phone number and the reason as to why they want to break up with them, and it’s up to you to break them up. If you fulfill the mission, you get more points—”

“And you break someone’s heart.” Seola says. “That’s just…mean.”

“It’s life.” Doah finishes, shrugging her shoulders. “Besides, it’d teach her that all people can go through a break-up, and some of them can be even messier than hers.”

Miwoo, preoccupied even when she is drunk, takes a seat on the couch with a huff before looking at her. She hates this, being pitied, as if a part of her had died and they are looking for a way to tell her that she is just a mere ghost now. “Do you want to try it?”

Snatching her phone away from Doah’s grasp, she clicks her tongue. “Who do you think you’re talking to? I take risks in life, of course I’m doing this.”

The cheers that follow soon after are enough to lift her up, tapping her name down along with some necessary information and a few pictures of her. Actually, it’s clear as day that this application was inspired on a dating site.

But the weight is not lifted off her shoulders when she gets her first mission, a couple that has been together for a month and the guy wants to simply tell the girl that it was only meant to be a hook-up. After all, the talk that suffices after texting the girl in question is all about how ‘men will never understand how difficult it is to fall in love with them’ and she agrees. It basically takes a snap of Doah’s fingers and a glide on her next mission for her to coming back to life, to feel like there is purpose here—not breaking up people for the mere satisfaction of doing so, but because she needs to. Toxicity shall come to an end, just like how this mindset of always being in a relationship should have its conclusion in society for one and all. The only thing she needs is remind herself that she is not anyone’s half, not Tsubasa’s, not anyone else’s. She could have anyone she wanted if she put her mind into it, as a complete woman.

It takes a few swipes and some break-ups later for her to feel more at ease and finally come to the latest of the night, at two in the morning at that. The name reads Hyunae and Hyungwon, showing a picture of what seems to be two lanky and tall individuals, though the guy immediately captures her attention. Standing right in front of a café, the two are seen holding each other on their arms, but his thick lips are drawn into a small smile, his eyes turned into upside down C’s out of pure happiness. His face structure and long black hair is already enough to have her smiling, figuring out why in the hell he would want to break up with his equally as gorgeous girlfriend. As it turns out, it is not Hyungwon that wants to break up with Hyunae but the other way around…

“Who would even want to break up with this guy?” She speaks over a whisper, Seola fast asleep in her room, only Miwoo and Doah staying with her in the room. Miwoo is having a glass of water, meanwhile Doah leans forward to capture the picture on the screen, smiling at the couple in it. “He’s mad cute.”

“What’s the reason she wants to break up with him?”

“He’s boring, apparently.”

“Oh my God, of course he’d be boring.” Miwoo breathes out into the thin air, the stench of beer clinging into it. “…So? Text him.”

“…Should I?”

“You’ve texted others. Why can’t you do it now?”

Well, it’s quite a different reason—while most of her life she had been in love with one man, absolutely attracted to the overconfident businessman part of a company she had always wanted to be part of, Tsubasa, this is different. There is that flutter of interest deep in her gut, a flicker of her eyelashes that says she is just absolutely interested in whatever this Hyungwon guy has to offer. Boringness could not be an issue when there is a face like that in the game, and it may be a bad feeling to have…but if breaking him up with his girlfriend doesn’t bring her a bit of hope, she’d be lying.

“That’s right, I can do it.” Convincing herself, her fingers hover over the number and she copies it, placing it down on a text and starting with a simplistic tone. “Hey! I saw your girlfriend posted you on Break Them Up, an application for…well, having people break up with your significant other. I hope you don’t mind me texting you, but Hyunae says she is bored of your relationship with her and wants to break up. Here’s a screenshot, in case you think I’m joking.” Though, guilt settles at the pit of her stomach. If Tsubasa had done something like that, she’d feel betrayed, disgusted, exposed in the worst of ways. This may be the peeking point of her bad ideas—

Sent. Read. Typing.

Hiding her face in her friend’s shoulders, the three dots mock her endlessly. Firstly, all she receives is a short ‘okay’ that does nothing to help the guilt that lingers on her brain. Instead, she watches as he continues to play with his typing tool, because the three dots appear again and again, disappear and appear in what could translate into shock—heartbreak, too.

“…I can’t believe she’d out our relationship like that.”

Pushing her hair away from her face, the beer buzzing up in her body and blurring a bit of her sight when she tries to tie the threads of this conversation. “If it works for you, I’ve also gone through a break-up.”

Little to no silence, he continues, her friends long forgotten in the background, perhaps looking over her shoulder. “Ah, I see.”

“It’ll get better for both of us.” She types.

“How’d you know?” He replies, bringing a soft smile on her features. She doesn’t, that is, maybe it’ll get worse. Maybe, she won’t love again. Maybe, Tsubasa had carved his name on her waist for when he’d wrap his arms around it and sing those oh-so-hatred rock songs that he’d blast early in the morning. Seven years, how does one get over seven years?

With a rebound, that’s how the two of them get over this. If things go right, that is, the buzz is not making her think straight. “You’re not that bad looking. I’m sure you’ll get someone else in the blink of an eye.”

“Haha,” The first response says. “I guess, but it’s not about that.”

“What is it about?”

“Years lost in someone who’d do this to me, I guess.”

“Huh…I get you, in my case it was seven years.”

A moment of hesitation, shown in the way the three dots disappear and soon after, they appear again. “I don’t think I’ve gotten your name. Are you sure you want to share that information with someone equally as heartbroken?”

Giggling to herself and leaning on her back, she lets out a sigh, hearing one of her friends complaining about the lack of information once she moves from their grasps. “I overshare, that’s my thing. Though…you know what? Yes, it’s only fair I share my name.”

And that she does, drunkenly talking to some man and trying her best not to fuck up her grammar along the way, drinking another bottle of beer to feel the liquid go past her throat in courage. Heartbroken, perhaps disheartened at this point, this is still no enough for her not to take risks—much less when there is a handsome, clearly single man that embarks in conversation with her. Soft, not flirty, just…the perfect amount of chill before she feels herself drifting off to sleep, cushions harshly pressed to her back.

###

Her name, spoken through a cheery tone, cuts through the thin air while she reads over her schedule for the week. The morning is tiresome, the long dress over her body clinging to the back of her thighs uncomfortably, trying to remember if she put on mascara on one eye when she had done her makeup…albeit a bit sleepy. This week had consisted of nothing but spending time with her friends, more than simply drinking, but touching the sky in long walks until they reached spots of the city that they didn’t know, or in dinners where speech is not necessary, only the healing atmosphere lingering within her.

That is the reason of her lack of sleep. Earfuls late at night, of gossip and stories she knows about but never gets tired of.

“Yes, Jinhee?”

The woman with a cap placed over her head peeked through her door before opening with a big smile, plush cheeks coated in a layer of peach dust. “Morning.” She says.

A smile appearing on her face, she decides that the heat and the lack of sleep won’t ruin her day. “Good morning, Jinhee. Why do I have the benefit of seeing you so early in the morning?”

Shame, she reads all over her face, not a typical feature to see in an office full of motivational speakers. If anything, all she gets to hear are chants of how good their lives are…and how it could only get better from now on. Bad pasts long gone, not living their ‘happily-ever-after’s’. “Well, uh, you see…you get the benefit to see someone else this morning—”

“Oh, sure. It’d have to be quick, though, I have some talk with an elementary child and his parents, because his teacher expressed he has been unmotivated—”

“Tsubasa is here.”

A man she hasn’t seen in well over two months, one that has her sighing deeply when he appears behind Jinhee, his thin eyebrows lifted in the smile he gives her. Golden skin that matches the bath of sunlight hat gets through her windows, moles that she has kissed over and over again framing his face, thick glasses that he can’t take off for anything moving under his smile. Her name, again, called into the density of such situation when Jinhee slips away, leaving her alone with Tsubasa.

“…Shouldn’t you be at work?”

While resting the flowers he brought with her on her desk, igniting the place in even more colors, she feels like her life is being drained of them. Him, in a suit; her, in a dress. A perfect match, she once had thought, as if their constant break-ups and arguments were normal. As if seeing life like a newspaper—gray, black, white, planned, written, filled with bad news, is what a relationship should feel like. Seven years, a first love, too many nights of wrapping herself up with him that she doesn’t know what could be more loveable than what they had, bad or not. “I was, but I asked for permission to visit you.”

“Then, go back.” She replies, pointing her finger towards her closed door enthusiastically. “You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I already kicked you out of my life once, don’t make me do it again.”

Though, when he is looking out of her windows, always in need of the Sun to feel like she truly is happy and alive, she doesn’t think anyone will ever fill that void that she dares to call love, just him. Pushing it, that’s what motivational speakers do—to finish the race even if it hurts, to always come at first place, to hold onto the memories and look for something great. He’s the best, though, when his fingers glide across the spot in which she usually kept his gifts at, though not anymore. Needless to say, it has been difficult to get rid of him, and he notices. “You redecorated.”

“Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m just pointing out—”

“Well, yes, some things change.” She doesn’t let him finish, protecting herself knowing that he is never quite as calm as this. They will always collide; him for being intense, her for never accepting that something could go wrong in their relationship. Not everything is about happiness, just like not everything should be about complaining. His back leans against the desk, inspecting her face like the immaculate man he is—serious, calm, relaxed, with a bomb hidden in the depths of his heart.

“I know, but I don’t want you to change.” Tsubasa utters, the long strands of his hair pushed back by some gel, and she has to close her eyes and look away in order not to remember the times in which she’d see him with adoration at the beginning of their relationship, threading her fingers through his hair as he brushed his teeth late at night. Even simplistic things like that had her in love. “…Sure, I shouldn’t have come here without telling you, but today…I was told to find a scriptwriter for one of our commercials, supposed to motivate people to be better, happier.” A shuddering breath follows. “I could only think of you.”

“Out.” She threatens, voice soft when she tries to move towards the door. “I’m trying to forget seven years of us fighting, Tsubasa. I don’t want to just work with you.”

He nears her, hands wrapping around her wrists delicately, looking for her face when his usual cologne engulfs the expanse of her nostrils, up her body, engraved in the area of memory in her brain. “You’ve wanted this forever, though.”

That, he had listened to. The company he works for, a good executive of it to be exact, had been on her wish-list for as long as she could remember. Apart from making a few students feel more confident in reaching their happiness, she wants to do something more. Commercials with short catchphrases and incredible visuals, some of the type that Tsubasa’s company does, ones that could bring people to tears and up their beds to do something for their lives.

But…what is she doing for her life as of now? Accepting every offer that Tsubasa gives her?

Looking at his lips, thin and a bit curved, chapped—he should really drink more water, she used to say—and missing him. Because, once someone constructs a home, it doesn’t matter that the ceilings are falling or that the cushions of the couches dig into their skin so uncomfortably they can’t lay in peace, the only thing that matters, and wrongly so, is that it is…your home.

“I’ve already talked to my boss about you. They want you on the team. Better payment than whatever you get here—” He speaks excitedly, something unlike him, when he smiles at her. Beaming, he is, maybe there is hope within him that she’ll be able to forgive the tears they both shed, the nights in which staying in the same bed felt like being continents apart. “We can get through this, together. We just need time to remember why exactly we fell in love.”

His body shelters the Sun from the windows and what she wants to do right now is impossible. What she would do was she a weaker person would be wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him like nothing ever mattered, as if taking a bite of the prohibited fruit will make her immune to it. Instead, she really ponders on this—he is sheltering her Sun, and he has been doing it for the entirety of their relationship. Vice-versa, too, she is not a saint in this situation. “I can’t.”

Air is pushed towards her face in the form of a scoff. “Yes, you can.”

“I can’t—”

“Stop being stubborn. You’re the first one that says that people can do anything as long as they put their minds into it!”

Her hands push at his chest, the sound of his pristine shoes colliding against his flooring suddenly leaving her in a trance. Panic, that is what it is, she is not used to lying…at least, not in something as specific as that. What is the reason as to why she has redecorated everything, erased him from her life and even denying a good job because she doesn’t want to see him? “I can’t because…” A look around the room, uncertainty, one more word from him and his voice will cut through her soul, leaving her bleeding, needing him more than anything in the world. “…Because I have someone else, and I know you’ll get angry because of this.”

The world doesn’t shatter—not for her, but for Tsubasa it seems to. His jaw tightens, eyes squinting before rolling them subsequently. “Right, yeah, you have a new man. You expect me to believe that?”

Certainty is what he speaks, as if he is so sure she can’t get a new man…and sure, it is not a reality, but it could damn well be if she simply let go of him. “Believe it, Tsubasa. I could call my man just about now to be a polite and nice civilian to show you exactly what a real person is.”

Thick breaths, tension, one step closer, two of them at that when he takes her phone from her desk and pushes it towards her hand before nodding. “…Call him, then. Tell him to speak up if he’s so brave.”

Well, fuck.

She really thought her hot-headed, quite reserved ex-boyfriend would accept her humongous lie.

Fingers hovering over her screen, they rush to find whatever number does not belong to a friend of hers, is a man’s set of digits and could potentially have her ex-boyfriend convinced that she is seeing someone else. “And video-call, too. I want to see him.”

“I don’t owe you any explanations, I don’t know why I am even doing this.”

Tsubasa’s fingers press his glasses up on his nose, chuckling shortly at her words, though a smile does not appear on his features. “Because it’s a lie?”

“He’s not.” She finishes, pressing on the last contact she sees in her hunt and bringing the device up her face. Tsubasa appears beside her in the matter of seconds, praying that the person on the screen doesn’t think she is an absolute insane woman once he picks up.

“Your new boy is taking a bit longer than anticipated.”

“Some people work, you know?”

“Sure. What’s his job?”

Answerless, for Tsubasa has always been smart, too smart for his own good, reason as to why he has such a nice position in his job and why he frowns when he sees Hyungwon splayed on her screen, squinting his eyes at the scenery in front of him and pushing his plump lips in a line. He’s confused, quite a bit taken aback, and she realizes now that some drunken conversation is clearly not the necessary subject for her to be calling him (clarification: video-calling him) in the middle of the morning, with her ex-boyfriend by her side, nonetheless. “Hello, Hyungwon. Are you busy right now?”

“Kind of…I’m on my aperitive break.” Aperitive break? Who even has those? “But…yes, I am free now, nice to see you. What can…I help you with?” Hesitation on his face is quite the sight, much more when he wraps those rosy lips around the straw of what seems to be his iced coffee. Before she could answer, however, Tsubasa speaks over her.

“I’m her ex-boyfriend and she’s been meaning to tell me you’re her new guy. Is that true?” He asks, panic filling her body when she sees Hyungwon widening his eyes, looking at her, then at him, then back at her. His body is frozen for a few seconds, or maybe the connection failed on her, she is not sure anymore.

Hyungwon’s finger is at the perfect timing to simply swipe his finger over the red button on the red of the screen and forget this moment even existed. Instead, he pushes a bit of his sandwich inside his mouth, the sound of a child speaking in the fair distance taking her off guard. Does he have children…or…? “Y—Yes.” Through a mouthful of food and with flushed cheeks, he answers. “That would be me.”

Tsubasa frowns at this, instead continuing with the conversation. “Huh, how so? How did you meet her?”

“Tsubasa, you’re my ex, not my dad. Stop—”

“…Dating apps?” Hyungwon almost chokes on his food when he says this, even surprising himself and she tries her best not to show her surprise at how good this is going.

“You tried dating apps?” Her ex asks.

“…After we broke up, I guess.” Lie. If anything, she only tried that break-up app in which she had discovered Hyungwon in…but who is Tsubasa to know that?

With fingers threading through his black hair and his gray hoodie pooling around the edges, Hyungwon cuts through the dense air. “Hey…uh, dude, my guy, whoever you are…I’d be thankful if you just left her alone?” The uncertainty in his tone must have gone unnoticed by Tsubasa, who turned to look at the camera with anger. This is what she gets for lying, more lies to keep on the long run. “Yeah, leave her alone. It’s over between you two.”

Pointing towards her door before opening it with the same hand, she hums. “Out you go, Tsubasa.” Though, it pains her to see the expression on his face, one that reads betrayal. Though not together, their story is difficult to get rid of…and lying to him feels like a part of her body is being plucked away so slowly that it is difficult to breathe. “…Sorry.” She whispers when she sees the man pass by, the door closing in front of her eyes with a loud bang and the memory that she never meant to break his heart.

But it’d be good for them.

Being away is the only way they can be happy, even when it doesn’t seem like it.

“Was that sorry for me or…?” Hyungwon’s deep and soft-spoken tone cuts through her thoughts, making her look up towards the camera, smiling at him briefly before nodding her head.

“Yes, sorry…” She trails, moving towards her desk and sitting down, releasing that one breath that had caged inside her, trapping her as its slave. “He came back to offer me some job…but I needed to decline. I don’t want to work around him.”

Understanding, he seems to be, nodding his head when he plays with the edge of his straw. “He didn’t seem too nice. What did you see in him?”

It’s small talk and yet, she can’t help but chuckle at this. Leaning her head back while still keeping her phone straight, the Sun almost burning her pupils but she enjoys the feeling of being warm, with him, in solitude, however way it comes. Opening up to him comes easily, a stranger that she likes to talk about for the sake of feeling like she can still capture the attention of someone handsome, seven years after being absolutely off the dating radar. “He gets what he wants. He always did. I needed someone who…would not be afraid to take risks.” She almost wants to laugh at the reminder as to why he had captured her attention. “I’ve known him for almost all my life, he’s a sweet guy…we just don’t work well together. We’re the type of people that fix things. I think I can’t ever live through sadness…” The truth spills her lips, well-aware that her obsession with happiness is only hurting her, and she doesn’t even look at Hyungwon’s expression when she speaks about her reality. “And he’d do anything to get to where he wants. It’s not like that in relationships…you can only fix something so much until it gets broken permanently.”

The deep words have Hyungwon sighing, looking down when she chooses to look at him. This is how they are, reaching but never holding, simply speaking to a stranger, wanting to take the risk of being vulnerable. “…It was the opposite with my ex and I,” He says. “The first time I met her, she was one of those models in stores. The ones that sit by the windows and showcase clothing while pretending to be mannequins. I really bought her entire outfit simply to get her attention.” Laughter, maybe he had enjoyed that day, but it dies down quickly when he shakes his head, instead his eyes filled with longing when he looks up at her. “…And when she asked: ‘Who are you giving this to?’. That outfit, that is. I could only think of her so I said ‘you’.”

Her lips quirk up in a small smile at that, warmed by the gesture. “That’s sweet.”

“She wanted those kinds of gestures throughout the relationship, though. It was draining, in a way…” Hyungwon mumbles, breathing through his nose with those same babbles of children in the background. “I enjoy quietness, simply talking and enjoying everything in simplicity. I don’t need to show someone I love them by doing extravagant things.”

“Right.”

“…Sorry, am I oversharing?”

“I love to listen, don’t worry.” She replies, pushing her elbows against the desk, digging deeply into the crevices of her skin with its rough wood. “I understand, in a way, I really do.”

“How?”

“The last few years of my relationship with Tsubasa, my ex, were…all about screaming, arguing…all of the like.”

“Oh.”

Once again, a weird metaphor comes up to her brain, typical of her moments of motivational speaking. “It reminds me of this one washing machine I have in my apartment. That thing is rusty, but I ask for it to be fixed every time. I can’t get rid of it…it came with the house and I really do think I can fix it, even when it screeches like a wild animal when it is washing my clothes.” The sweet laughter that escapes his lips, melodious to listen to, brings a smile to her face when she looks at her clock and sees that it is about time for her to leave to her first speech of the day. “I need some quiet. Getting rid of my relationship, getting rid of my washing machine—”

“We can be quiet together.” He prompts, before shaking his head at the sound of his voice. “Oh, shit, my bad, I probably sounded—”

“No.” She says. “We can be quiet together.”

###

The waltz of the morning is eventful, once again followed by a motivational speech for her. She tries to feel more at ease—happier, because working with kindergarteners with a frown on her features is not exactly what she should be doing. The walls are painted in colors of yellow and blue, the small classroom taking her off guard when she takes a glimpse from the windows outside, watching the number of teachers that are oh-so-gladly talking to their students about the next section of their day. Small, they are, probably not a day over five years old, with attentive looks on their faces that could not match the ones that she normally gets from older students, all in distaste or disinterest in her rants about a happy life.

Well, they are older…and life has always taught that the older someone gets, the more is expected from them; hence happiness is a benefit rather than a necessity. To her, happiness needs to be a certainty, because the chirping of birds still exists, along with her group of friends; there are people in this world that had it worse than her and still, she gets to complain. Heartbroken, she feels, though she doesn’t look like it—always thinking of Tsubasa; if he has eaten or not, if he is sleeping soundly now that she is not in the picture.

The door opens in a swish, present reuniting with past and bringing her back to her reality. After knocking on the door, she had stood and waited to let her in, grasping her bag in between her fingers, moving back and forth, unable to stay in place—quite a lot like her—. The person in front of her, however, is completely still. Serious, even. Soft yet powerful, a gush of fresh air when her eyes widen and she inspects his features. Small face marked by prominent lips, long—longer than the last time she saw him on that video-call—and black hair framing his features.

Able to forget, she is, when she looks at his features and gets to see a hint of a smile, whispering out his name as if not to disturb the students.

“Hyungwon? You’re a kindergarten teacher?” Part of her had imagined that the wails and babbles of children in the background of their call had come from Hyungwon and his children. Apparently, this is not the case.

Flushed cheeks and a good look at her features, his eyes caress her face in the gentlest of stares when he says. “Yes…You’re the motivational speaker?”

“…Yes,” She adds rapidly. “I mean, it probably makes sense now. I was trying to make you feel better after I was asked to break up with you—”

“It does make sense. Someone can only tell you it’ll be alright about a thousand times before it starts to get suspicious.”

“Good thing I said it nine hundred ninety-nine times.”

Hyungwon chuckles, opening the door wider for her to enter in such a place. The children are already looking at her with curiousness, her eyes taking in each of them. One of them in the front row is eating what seems to be a sandwich, unlike everyone else who is listening intently, crumbs of bread imparted unevenly on top of fluffy cheeks. Another one immediately waves at her, on the end of the row of seats, giving her an eventful smile and surprisingly enough, there is one of them that stands up and clings to Hyungwon’s leg, his long fingers coming down to pat the black head of hair.

“Guys, we should all sit down and listen to our dear friend.”

“Yes, Teacher Hyungwon!” Some say in unison, grinning when Hyungwon moves to the back of the class with his kindergarten student, sitting him down beside him before looking ahead. Whilst she places her bag down on the nearby desk, not forgetting to greet the other teachers, she can’t help but get a bit fidgety under his gaze—curious, he is, and it has only downed on her that this complete stranger is not one in its entirety.

Speaking comes easier from then on, rambling just like how she knows how to do, capturing the attention of the little children that help her out along the way, asking them questions, making them play around in order to have more trust in themselves and others. Interactive would fall short as a word for what she is doing and how gratifying it feels to be heard, for once and for all, speaking as quickly as she does, as invested in the nature of making others feel better, even when she is not feeling her best.

The impossibility of leaving is palpable when some of the students beg her to stay, even more after she had a connection with them, wanting her to take part on their lunch time. That’s how she finds herself near the window, magnet of everything that has to deal with the Sun, knees bent under the small table, plopping a bit of rice in between her lips. The students are talking to her happily, more than glad to have a ‘teacher’ that is just as hyper as they are, barely able to stand in one place without moving to the other. They ask and ask and ask, never getting tired of her and it’s the most heart-warming thing that has ever had the opportunity to cross her path in the last few months.

If she is not counting the man that moves towards her with sure steps, sitting across from her with his own plate of lunch, his tall and lean body barely captured under the comprising stance of the table in which she is seated at. Hyungwon gives her a shy smile, one of those that lift the apples of his cheeks and make him look quite awkward, though their silence lasts a short amount of time when they both call each other’s names, laughing at their own antics.

With him, it feels natural to simply be…shameful. It feels as though she doesn’t have to worry about the world because with him alone, she’s able to forget about the things that fly around her head in matters of worry. This is exactly what she needs, kaleidoscopes of images forgotten in the back of her brain.

“I meant to ask you—” She stops herself for a moment when one of the children feeds her a spoonful of rice, and this feels exactly how young parents are probably like. They can’t even speak without having one of their children interrupting them. “How is it that you ended up being a teacher?” She asks, earning a glance from Hyungwon that simply shrugs his shoulders.

His fingers go to help one of the younger students eat, doing motions with his mouth to represent chewing, and the little one understands perfectly. This kind of relaxed, laidback mindset of his is intoxicating, in a way that she can feel herself smiling just from his sight alone. “I don’t know.” He explains. “One day…I had to be an adult, and I had to pick something to do. Part of me knew that society is already difficult on its own, so I wanted to go to the root of it all.” His words are a bit jumbled, as if he’s embarrassed of what he is saying, mouth parting in a small smile when he feeds some more to this one student. “Children are the future, so if I can make children be educated, kind, nice to one another…intelligent but not pretentious about it, then I’ve already done something good for society.”

Warmed by her words and finding the logic in the thread of thoughts that had gone through his mind when choosing his career, she hums. “That’s…smart. I’ve never thought of it that way.”

“Bad teachers make bad students.” He answers, looking over at her while he holds his hand under the boy’s chin. “Ria, eat your food, please. Stop playing with it.” He softly says to one of the students across from him, earning a giggle and a sigh from himself. “What about you? What was the reason behind being a motivational speaker?”

Understanding, that’s what he is. She hates herself for looking at him with stars in her eyes, studying the hoodie over his body and how his hair grazes against it, watching the calm look on his features and the moisture of his lips, a ghost of a kiss passing through her head. Attraction that comes with liveliness, this fleeting air that makes her feel weightless. Lightweight, and ready to be caught. “I was always a hyper girl,” She says. “People used to say: “use that word for something, use those mannerisms to inspire people!” and I thought that was the road that I had to take.” Playing around with her rice and the egg on top of it, she takes another bite before sighing. “It reminds me to be happy, too.”

Hyungwon’s eyes soften at that, nodding his head along with her. “Happiness is the goal, yes.”

“Do you think…?” Her voice comes short when she tries to think of her question. “Do you think I do a great job at motivating people?”

His eyes crinkle at that, a smile that she has never seen from him when he frantically nods. “You are the one that has inspired me to get over my ex.”

“And vice-versa.” She says, pointing at him before Hyungwon presses his lips together, the sound of wails cutting the atmosphere like scissors going over paper. He stands up immediately, just at the same time that she does. “Let me help you.”

“…Are you sure you have nothing else to do today?” He asks mindfully, walking and hearing the sound of her footsteps beside him, aware of him when he kneels to pick up the child that is crying, talking to them through a soft tone. “Hey, hey, easy. You dropped your food; we can get you some more.” He speaks, finding the Sun in him when he stands in front of said window. Tall, he is, but he doesn’t cover the Sun, rather radiates with it, shines a light that leaves her astounded.

Surely, he is handsome…but something about him is inviting, calming, everything that she hasn’t had in the last seven years with— “I probably won’t have any other day like this with you, so let me prolong it a bit.”

Hyungwon chuckles at that, patting the student’s back while he speaks to her. “You don’t have to think like that.”

“Why?”

Awkwardness, he always radiates such thing when he is ashamed—or maybe, embarrassed. She notices that, moving back and forth on the heels of her feet, always moving, needing to go to the next thing, think of the next subject before coming blank. Staying quiet is never her thing, but it seems to be his. “We could definitely see each other again if you wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” She asks.

“I’d love to have some meal with you without sitting by a table I can’t even sit by, so…yes?” Joy overtakes her, lips moving along with her throat to let laughter caress the air in between the two. “If you want to, of course.”

Letting go, oh, what a precious thing to be thinking about when she utters out a small: “Huh, I was thinking the same thing, maybe we should make it happen.”

###

This street will always hold the melody of Hyungwon’s voice, walking by her side, a reminder that comes from that day at the kindergarten classroom in which she realized that, when walking back to her home, Hyungwon takes the same route. Nowhere nearby, they live, but close enough that it’s a ten-minute walk…and they’d meet if only their schedules lined up.

But now, when the Sun is barely hiding and the sky is in its rosy tint, Hyungwon is walking by her side. Waited, he had done, even when it had taken her a good hour and a half to get there, meeting up with him thanks to her rushing and loud strides against the sidewalk. A few distractions happen on the way home, whatever way shown in the way they are holding onto cotton candy, eating happily while having cheerful conversations.

She had gotten to know a bit about Hyungwon, enough for her to think of him as a daydream. Lover of coffee, definitely not one to think heavily of the future but he enjoys his present, he’s strict but deep behind all that, he’s kind. Retorts and remarks are often with him when he has something to say and oh, he’d live for some gossip but wouldn’t even be able to confess it if she asked him. He moves slowly, almost like he is sleepy when he walks, or that he really wants to meet up with that promise she had given him in the classroom a few weeks ago. To prolong the moment, to not think for the minutes in which they are together.

It’s hard for her to concentrate for long periods of time. Tsubasa knew this, lived with it, sometimes had to explain twice when she blanked out, but what she’d receive was a sigh at most. Hyungwon, however, makes sure to engulf her in enough information for her to catch on, patience at its finest. So different, in a way, and yet a subject of comparison. Sometimes, it’s difficult not to do so and while munching on her cotton candy, the treat dissolving on her tongue while Hyungwon speaks about this one student that had made his heart almost explode out of adorableness, the sound of screeching, shouting, heartbreak seeps through her ears, widening her eyes when she catches the couple that are fighting right in front of some restaurant near her apartment complex.

“Do you think that always happens in relationships?”

Hyungwon tries to look for the source of her question, connecting his gaze to the sight that has made her curious, and he simply puckers up his lips in response. “I don’t know…I’m not sure.” The answer saddens her, continuing her walk along with him even when passing by the couple.

“I used to think that this ‘forever-and-ever’ happens to everyone.” She starts once again, the talk of love nowhere near spoken in between the two. Flirting has happened, but it’s different to talk about a serious outlook of love. “I used to think that I’d find it someday, too.”

Hyungwon brings a slice of the cotton candy up to his lips, reddening them even more. “You can’t be certain it won’t happen. You’re still young.” And with that promise alone, she lifts her gaze, her steps becoming slower the more she nears her apartment complex.

“What about you? Do you think it will happen to you?” She complies, memories ever so precious of him being held the moment he stands in front of the building that meets her home, taking his last bite of cotton candy before sighing deeply.

“…Maybe…” He tells her, a faint smile appearing on his features when he lifts his eyebrows. “Are you curious?”

“Maybe.” She mocks his tone, taking the small papers that held the cotton candies they had and trashing them in a bin nearby before returning towards him. Hyungwon’s eyes, looking at her for a goodbye, have her fidgeting more than usual, playing with the edge of her shirt, tightening her fingers, unleashing them from their hold and finally, saying something. “It’s up to you if something happens…in that case…” She tries to hint, looking at him and comparing him in every way possible. He’s skinnier, taller, definitely different from Tsubasa. He’s not a man that she has known for her entire life, but someone that she barely knows…and that’s thrilling on its own, exciting, enough to set her ablaze because, for a second, she thinks she sees interest in his eyes.

Is that good? Perhaps, it’s bad to let go, it’s bad to look for someone else and want to feel loved under the gaze of another person. It’s bad enough that Hyungwon nears her, hand hovering over her waist before pressing down on it. Different, this is different, and that is exactly what she needs. To feel like the Sun is burning her, but in the best of ways, even when it is long into the night. “One step at a time, though.” He says. “…I want to ease into this.”

“Me, too.” She replies, fisting the fabric of his shirt and bringing him towards her, the movement of her dress against her legs the only motion that reminds her this is not a freeze frame. She counts his eyelashes, the faint gleam on the tip of his nose, his thick lips that she had wished to kiss from the moment she saw him in a picture with his ex. She chuckles at that, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Is it too quick for me to say I really like you, though?”

“Depends.” Hyungwon tilts his head to the side, playing with a strand of her hair with his free hand. “Is it too quick for me to say I want to kiss you?”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t kiss me after implying that.”

His face leans forward, enough for her to look into his eyes just as they look down at her lips. “I don’t know…” He teases, giggling at his own words before resting a brief kiss on her lips. “Is that enough?”

Looking for gravity, she wraps her arms around his neck. This feeling is exactly what she has been looking for, to be clouded in someone’s hold to the point she couldn’t even think of anything else. The weighty feeling of him when she presses his lips into his, this time in a soft yet not so fleeting manner, is enough to have butterflies appearing on the depths of her stomach, but not enough to feel her heart combust in absolute delight. She’d get used to this, to the glide of his lips against hers that is different from anything else she has ever had. He’s delicate, with purpose, but not completely on the loving stance. If anything, it feels like dipping a finger into the ocean.

Though, the feeling of the soft muscles of his back contracting when she runs her fingers over them is enough to have her smiling against the kiss, but diving in once again. In reality, this is better than she could have expected, only pulling away when the security guard by the door opens it widely, clearing his throat with poise.

“Are you entering, Miss?”

While still holding onto Hyungwon, his hands searching anywhere else but her body, she speaks in a sweetened tone towards him. “I don’t know, Hyungwon. Are we entering?”

“W—We…?” Hyungwon asks softly, seeing the big traces of a smile on her features when relief washes over his body. “Yes, we are.”

His fingertips slot in between hers, holding her lazily while they enter the building, a reminder for her to get used to the differences between the past and the future.

It takes a man to forget another, as it seems.

###

In the blink of an eye, it becomes difficult to even imagine a time in which Hyungwon isn’t in her head.

His students asking for her, her friends that couldn’t stop talking about her ‘cute and mysterious’ boyfriend, and most importantly, the amount of times she has to push the thought of him into her life simply to feel like she has someone to look forward to, a source of happiness that she should get attached to. Even when he is right in front of her, the Japanese restaurant packed with different individuals, all chatting with excitement, she can only keep thinking of him. Maybe, this is exactly what she needed, to have someone else that makes her feel…alive.

Different, he has always been, in the way he holds her with such simplicity but still looks at her with all the intent. Never falling apart, just calmly letting the breeze direct their paths together, enjoying nothing more than the time they get to spend together. Sometimes, it surprises her that there is not even the slightest of turbulence with Hyungwon, now seated in front of her and tipping his head back to down a bit of the wine they had ordered with their meal.

If happiness is this, the way his face contorts with the sweet taste before giving a smile to her, then she wants to be able to forget everything. The burning sensation of his plump lips passing across her skin feels right, but it isn’t called love for any of them.

Letting go has been the meaning of their relationship, how it developed even from the littlest of actions. Attraction, it is, the calmness of him bringing her to a sense of peace, but comparing each other seems to be the root of their upcoming issues. Pasts of previous relationships are what translate into their motions, blurring their judgements of each other. Someone’s favorite color is one thing, but the way they touch the other is the same way they reached for someone else. It’s difficult to get used to another body, to threaten to erase every bit of attachment in order to grow another root of love.

It doesn’t work like that.

“Drink slower,” She tells him, her chopsticks picking a bit of sushi in between them. The Japanese restaurant they went to is common for them, one of the many take-out meals that they have, the decorations on the ceilings golden, the rug in a dark shade of green, the trees bringing a sense of naturality even when they are inside. “The wine is not going anywhere.”

“We paid a lot of money for this wine, better enjoy it.” Hyungwon adds, leaning forward on his table before biting down on his bottom lip. His eyes scan her features, as if he wants to know the clouds of tiredness that fall under her eyes like the palm of his hand, or because he simply wants to forget every mole and trace of blemish that kisses her skin. “Did I tell you that I love when you wear that dress?”

A black dress, thin strapped dress that touched the ground softly, layered on top of a white t-shirt, that’s what Hyungwon is looking at, along with the pendant with his initial that wraps around her neck. When he said he was attentive yet quiet, he meant it. “You say that about every other dress.”

“…I don’t, stop.” Hyungwon comments, taking a bite of his own order of sushi and she smacks her lips in disbelief.

“I’m starting to believe you’re really fake.”

“I’m not the type to say I like something when I don’t.” And she knows this, one of the things she knows about Hyungwon, but no matter how much she scavenges for the little bits that make her feel like she’s in love with him, it has never happened. Likewise, for Hyungwon, the words had never left his lips and while adoration is there, it’s not exactly love they are working with. “You know what? I’m going to have more wine, considering we’re walking back.”

“I’ll have to drag you back to your place, though. Drink slower.” She retorts, a smile on her features when she leans forward and rests a soft kiss on his lips. “If only you had me like that wine.” She flirts, earning a chuckle from Hyungwon.

“…Spending lots of money on it and drinking it in one go because I have to make sure every penny it’s worth it?”

“Don’t ruin the moment.” Another brief peck is pressed against her lips before she sits back down on her seat, fixing the chopsticks in between her fingers when patting them against the plate. “Man, I really missed having some time with you. All I’ve been thinking this week is how I need to have some sushi with my boyfriend.”

“Jinhee is finally getting to your nerves.”

“People rarely get on my nerves, because I’m mostly the annoying one in the relationship.” She answers quickly, looking up at him for a brief second as if searching for an answer before giving another bite to her food. “But, man, this one student in one of those classes I went to was really testing it with me.”

“What did he say?” Hyungwon asks, interested.

“Hear this,” She starts. “Why are we supposed to feel motivated when you, yourself, must feel unmotivated from time to time?”

“He’s got a point.”

“I’m always happy!” That same fronting issue that goes on inside her heart burns at Hyungwon’s lips when he speaks out.

“You shouldn’t push yourself to always be happy.” He tells her, hand reaching forward until he squeezes the skin gently. “But…I’ll make sure you keep that sentence alive. You’ll always be happy.”

Warmth, heightening more and more as Hyungwon keeps drinking, only a few sips given by her and by the time an hour and a half has passed of the two eating, now enjoying desserts of their own, Hyungwon is drunken. His head is tilted back, the expanse of the elongated part of his body blossoming with a few reminders of the kisses she had pressed and marked there early on the week. His hair falls on top of his eyes, suddenly babbling more than he would, the quiet one of the relationship generally, a perfect listener until now, he wants to talk about everything.

Like her favorite movie, or the way her laugh sounds when she is really into a joke he tells. Things that he seems to remember about her, reminiscent of them perfectly the more he loses himself in his drink. When she finally pries the cup away from his hands, however, her boyfriend leans his weight forward and chuckles with his entire teeth, those crevices that she loves forming under his eyes when he clearly is trying to look cute in her book.

And maybe, it’s working.

And maybe, she can fall in love.

“I still remember our first trip,” But only in a month of being in a relationship, they still have yet to think of a trip. This brings a frown up her features, inspecting the way he grasps her fingers in his hold before placing his soft lips on top of them. Fleeting, like what they have for each other. “We went to…your family’s house,” Yet, Hyungwon had never gotten to know her family. “And I got to see that little room of yours. It was so cute.”

“Hyungwon, that didn’t happen.”

Soberness doesn’t overtake him, but he squints at her before chuckling a bit more awkwardly, resting his head against the table in his drunken state. “Right…” He whispers, looking up at her whilst his chin digs into the wooden material of the table. “I’d love to meet your family, though.”

A rebound, that is what she is, because Hyungwon is thinking of such a memory with adoration—confusing it with her in the line that they have traced between their pasts and their present. It only so happens that she can’t get angry at him for this, she can’t simply scold him for…loving someone else, when she doesn’t think she has fully stopped loving someone. Surely, she no longer likes Tsubasa as a person, but the longing deep in her soul will forever carve the name of the person that she had adored for seven years. “I’m sure you would…” She mumbles back, running her fingertips through his hair before sighing. “Were you thinking of Hyunae?”

“…I confused things, sorry.” His rough voice fills the air softly when he holds her hands tightly. “But don’t think I like you any less because of this.”

Like you.

Like.

Like, not love.

Why does that make her feel more at ease?

“You’re so cheerful and happy and loud. So funny, so…given to everyone. Whenever you enter a room, you’re ready to talk and make everything fun and I need that.” Hyungwon answers, looking up at her with glistening eyes before mouthing out a small: “Who would I prefer to be with than with you?”

Probably Hyunae, had she not left him. If everything had gone well with Tsubasa and it had been the first big fight instead of the thousandth one, maybe she’d be with him, too. Not to say she likes Hyungwon less or that she doesn’t sigh in utter happiness when he presses a kiss to her lips or when he laughs in absolute joy. She needs time, she promises herself, to get used to someone else. She’s fearful, perhaps she doesn’t want to be in the end of heartbreak again, to get so sick of love that she seeks for it more. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Hyungwon. You were with her for long, I understand…but we’re moving forward, that’s the good thing.”

He realizes, probably, that she is in the same predicament. Sober, of course, he must have noticed.

Because she can’t let go.

Not completely. She would never go back to Tsubasa, but the memories keep haunting her.

Maybe, she could have done better.

Maybe, Hyungwon will end up fighting with her, too.

…Is love for everyone?

“I’ve already moved forward.” He explains, earning a breathy laugh from her when she slices a bit of his lemon pie, wanting to have a taste in contrast of her passion fruit one.

“We’ll get there, step by step, make memories of our own, you know?” Convincing, she means to sound, even to herself, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the second skin that has been clinging to her, holding her onto something that she isn’t anymore. It will be alright, she promises deep in her brain, relying on her vision to see more of the love of her life in him. “This is just a slip up. We knew it was going to be like this.”

“Right.” Hyungwon nods, curt in the way he tries to do so. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She tells him, wanting to whisper something along the lines of ‘because I also go through the same thing’, needing to forgive herself for not forgetting, but she lets it die in the back of her throat.

Because she’s always happy, and slip-ups are not for her.

###

Trust me, how many times has she said those two words in the last fifteen minutes? A hundred times, probably?

Hyungwon’s apartment has almost become second nature for her to be in, and in between walking together back home, it was a habit to end up in his place. Right now, however, she wishes nothing more than to be able to kick him out of said place—even when she is not supposed to be doing so. Leaning against the sink, she is trying to apply mascara to her bottom lashes, widening her eyes, but eyebrows furrowed in such a way with trembling fingers to control her anger that she doesn’t think she’ll be able to get the makeup right without ruining it even the slightest.

The mirror shows the decency of Hyungwon, the pride of him as he stands in his pajamas by the bathroom’s door, leaning against it with his slim and long arms cradling his chest. His hair is decorating his angry features elegantly, plush lips pressed together, eyes scanning her every action when he finally does her the justice of speaking again, much more than he normally does, all thanks to the slightest thing she had mentioned earlier, just over twenty minutes ago.

“If you wanted to go back to his arms, you just had to tell me.”

He’s not the jealous type, he had once said, and he normally isn’t…but that fear he has of her going back to Tsubasa lingers within him, tickles at that insecurity that he holds in him and now explodes into their argument. Which, speaking of, have become more prominent in their relationship after that sly honeymoon phase. Hyungwon doesn’t like when she speaks too loudly when he’s trying to concentrate on grading tests—for kindergarteners, at that—and she absolutely dislikes the way he simply falls asleep when they try to go out on dates. She has grown more used to watching around his place, the accumulation of memoirs and reminders suddenly making her sick, than spending time with him.

Earlier this week, however, she had gotten yet another offer from Tsubasa’s workplace. This time it was not from Tsubasa, but from some man named Jooheon that was interested in having her in his informercial project. When thinking deeply about it, going to a big company and earning more money is never a bad thing—but to Hyungwon, it’s a clear sign that she is missing Tsubasa, or that he is the one that offered it to her, on the first place.

The latter makes more sense, and it’s the one he holds on to the most.

“Ugh, listen, I don’t want to get back with him. Stop prompting that I do.” She replies, landing her mascara down on her makeup kit with a slam. The mirror welcomes the sight of her, getting ready with a night out with her friends, some club that they wanted her to try out and while in any other day she would have given up a night of dancing to stay at home and watch movies with Hyungwon, this argument is making her want to leave more and more.

His eyes roll, not magically, just because he wants for her to see that he is annoyed. “Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t realize that he is the one that made this Jooheon guy call you?”

She turns around at that, looking up and down his body as if to minimize him. The blue walls of the bathroom feel even more tense the more they stare at each other, all cladded in reminders of Hyungwon. His toothbrush, his hair products, everything that would otherwise have her feeling like she is at home, but now making her feel suffocated. “Hyungwon, stop trying to put me as the cheater here. One, I would never do that to you. Two, he would never do that. I know him—”

“Oh, excuse me, yes, I forget that you’ve known him for your entire life and that you dated for seven years, so I’m always expected to know how he is just so…nice and caring and would never do something like this.” Hyungwon speaks in his low voice, never losing that poise that represents him. “As if he wasn’t the one that pressured you into calling some stranger to see who your new man was—”

“Well, I didn’t complain when you mixed Hyunae up with me. How many times have you thought about her when being with me?”

“I have never.” Though, she can’t believe him, now nearing him, a little bit more of height when she is wearing her heels, breathing deeply when she takes a good glance at his eyes. They are bored, of course he’s never going to show his true feelings. “Just like how I am not oblivious that she was not that nice. She asked some stranger to break up with me, and Tsubasa is clearly trying to get you into the job because he wants you back.”

“And I, the whore in this situation, would definitely go back to him. Is that what you mean?”

“No,” Hyungwon whispers. “But you’ve loved him for so long—”

“You need to understand me here! It’s not about how much I love him but it’s about me and my job and how some motivational speaker job is not taking me anywhere!”

Silence, that’s what surrounds this moment when Hyungwon utters out a tiny: “It’s about how you’ve loved him, but we’ve been together for months and I feel like you don’t love me.”

When a glass shatters, people try their best to grasp it before it lands on the floor. However, gravity is stronger. This is how this moment feels like, staring at him and the blue walls, suffocating her, because this is what she has been doing all along. Suffocating and suffocating, trying her best to forget to the point she has never forgotten at all. Hyungwon, though meaningful for her and possibly someone she loves now, will never be quite as strong as she had once had felt. Maybe, that is what adulthood does to her, it wears her off.

“Baby, it’s not about that…” She tries to reason, reaching up for his face and cradling his face. “I do care for you.”

“Care?” Hyungwon asks, lifting his eyebrows before getting away from her. She closes the door behind her in a hassle, following after his steps as she speaks in loud words.

“Yeah, care! I do care about you.”

His fingers wrap around her coat, tossing it at her with a sigh, nodding towards the door. “Call me when you get there and make sure you don’t drink too much.”

“Hyungwon—”

“If you care so much about me, just go out for tonight and let me think for once.” He replies, opening the door for her and holding his hand out with weaving fingers. “So? I’m waiting.”

Uneasily, the straps of her heels slip across her skin, clicking against the flooring and expecting Hyungwon to say something, turning around just in time to kiss him on the lips, but it feels as though he is dead, paralyzed, unable to move when she mumbles a small: “I love you.”

But it’s meaningless, of course it is.

The club is packed, ready to have anyone on the dance floor, drinking, smoking, living the best part of their lives, but instead her friends and herself are seated by the bar, simply talking beneath themselves about the issues that have interrupted her trains of thoughts ever since she got inside the taxi. The city could never quite feel as loud as her thoughts are, trying to recall since when it had become a habit for her to lie and if she really, sincerely, with all the might in her heart, thought that Tsubasa was not behind Jooheon’s intentions. After all, it could be some subconscious matter that is trying to push her back to the home she had gotten so used to, the one that she has tried to destroy with all the intention in the world.

The words go past her lips, reminiscent of every single argument they’ve had. One because he had fallen asleep when watching a movie. Another one because Hyungwon claimed that she was hiding from him, hence not saying anything when she was feeling gloomy. The screen that she had created for the movie of her life is suddenly projecting everything that is wrong, no longer a happy movie the more she downs sips of water, her friend’s attention on her. The second-nature of feeling comfortable with each other is falling into the realization that they are not really serious with one another, a reason as to why anyone would feel insecure in a long-lasting relationship. One that aims to be so, at least.

“Men are so stupid!” Miwoo says in between a shout, the music making them speak a bit louder than usual. She moves her hair off her shoulders, showcasing trained and tight shoulders. “I remember I used to be with this guy when I was in Paris for university and I swear…that guy ghosted me after it became serious. Some guy obsessed with travelling, like he really didn’t give two shits about my feelings.”

She nods softly, feet moving under the counter the more she thinks about the fight that had just ensued in Hyungwon’s apartment. “And he goes on to blame me, like I spent seven years in a relationship and got out of it, that’s my story. He shouldn’t think I’ll go and cheat on him or something—”

Seola is the next to speak, looking around to the masses of people dancing. “Besides, haven’t you been complaining about how he is boring?”

“Not in most occasions…” The answer is protective, mostly because she doesn’t want anyone hurting Hyungwon, but the anger that she feels within her bubbles up with the need of an outburst. “Doah should know about this, it’s just what happens after being with someone for a while. He just doesn’t try anymore. He doesn’t…initiate anything, you know? He simply expects for us to fall into this routine, like we have to plan each moment of our week, rules and all.”

“Maybe, he’s comfortable with you.” Doah tries to reason, the one that has more experience—and good one at that—in relationships. “…Like, sure, he should try harder, but you knew he’s a simple guy. Maybe, he just doesn’t want to do outlandish things but he needs…normal stuff.”

“I’m okay with that, totally!” She replies, looking ahead before puckering up her lips and sighing. “But there needs to be some spice.”

Seola scrunches up her nose at that, groaning. “Oh my God, no. We’re not talking about that together.”

“Not that kind of spice, Seola.” She tells her, tapping her finger against her cheek, trying to come up with that answer of what Hyungwon lacks. He’s funny, even when he doesn’t try, the type to be a bit awkward and yet, somewhat sassy. He’s got attitude, and yet he’s respectful, a sobering experience with his own strict nature, but still calm and serious. She’s liked this for as long as she knows him, but now it’s getting to her nerves. “The kind…you know…the kind that makes me think I really love him.”

“Didn’t you say you told him you loved him for the first time today?” Seola asks, only to have Miwoo sighing.

“Seola, of course she doesn’t mean it.”

Doah is the one to scoff at that. “But why? You were the one that initiated this relationship on the first place.”

“…B—Because…he’s just…he’s…” She’s answerless, looking up at the ceiling in hopes of finding something in the lights. She used to think that forever’s just come in shapes of unexplainable beings, that when someone is speechless it is something to be proud about. She wanted to shut up so badly, thanks to her past relationship, that she now comes short on what she wants to say. “He’s just…Hyungwon, and I don’t want to hurt him.”

Doah, one to say things straight, shakes her head in the matter of seconds. “You’ll hurt him and he’ll hurt you.”

The hand of Miwoo lands against her head. “Don’t say that!”

“They are using each other to get over their exes. Of course, they are not going to find reasons to love each other.” The conspiracy theory that Doah is voicing out has her parting her lips in surprise…because, like, that really isn’t it, right? She smacks her red lips together, reminiscent of how much Hyungwon likes to see her in that shade. She’s over Tsubasa, she just needs to love Hyungwon now— “Don’t get me wrong, you’re one of my best friends, but you need to stop lying to yourself. Hyungwon is in love with Hyunae, you’re in love with Tsubasa.”

“I’m not in love with him!” She replies, sincerity in her tone when she grips her chest. “I really don’t feel an ounce of love for him anymore…I don’t like him anymore, either. I just want to be happy.”

Seola, one that had been quiet for a little bit, rubs the back of her neck when she says: “And who’s to say that’s with Hyungwon?”

“Girls, attention,” Gaining the reigns of the situation once again, one of her legs crosses over the other to feel powerful when she takes her water bottle up to her lips. A sip, that’s all she needs, to relax and forget that this night ever happened. Tsubasa is clearly the bad one in this case…and herself, too, for simply forgetting Hyungwon’s feelings while hers were bursting in absolute delight of being able to go to that company that she has aspired to be part of. “Like, I just know Hyungwon’s the guy I like right now. The one I want. I don’t want to kiss, hug, learn to love or even have sex with anyone else but him. I know that, what I don’t know is what’s wrong with me or my body or my heart…because I can’t seem to tell him I love him as easily as I did with…”

“Tsubasa.” Doah replies, tilting her head to both sides to stop the ache on her neck. “Stop comparing him to Tsubasa and maybe, he’ll get the chance to be loved by you.”

With the weight of Seola’s hand placed on her shoulder, she sighs. “And if Hyungwon makes you happy, he makes us happy. We want nothing more than for you to let go of that toxic relationship and learn how to love someone that…just wants to fall into a routine with you, to love you for who you are.”

Though, it rips at her chest to know that she’s fearful, scared to move and hold him, just to show him that he’s worth of love, too. Perhaps, she was scared of risking another goodbye, another moment in which she’d have to say goodbye to the person she likes…simply because something doesn’t feel right. In this case, however, with the argument that happened this night, she feels as though she may be killing her own relationship, all with the distraction of wanting it to be so perfect…that she’d destroy it in a second without knowing.

The tight grin that caresses her cheeks is barely seen when she breathes out a small, softened: “…He does.” Because, no one would have treated her as nicely as he did, showing her that even the shades of her that were not happy were able to be loved, never pushing, never pulling…simply…being.

Is that kind of compatible with her, though?

Is anyone compatible with her, to start with?

###  

The record was beaten three days ago when Hyungwon and herself had broken up for the third time in their relationship.

The periods of time are never too long, if a week at most of being away, perhaps for some not considered as a break but for her…another reminder of why exactly they are not working out. Every day and every night, she questions herself more as to why she makes bad decisions. Why, in the world, is she laying on her couch with her eyes closed, wondering what exactly had gone wrong. Apparently, something within her still holds on to the past, and Hyungwon simply can’t stand with that one bit of insecurity that tells him he’ll always be good but never as good as…

Silently, she had done so, she had brought someone with beaming colors to be a dulling gray color. Now, looking up at her ceiling, the white colors of it being painted in memories, she realizes that her life shouldn’t always be yellow, like the Sun, either. She should have let herself grieve the break-up with Tsubasa, the ache of being used for so many years, let herself heal and love someone else…like herself. She should have looked for a grounding moment in her own hands, instead of having someone else grasping her with love. She should have simply respected the moment of silence that should have gone past after Hyungwon got broken up with, simply because lusting after a man that is probably going through a hard time is not exactly the best of decisions.

Not to say she does not enjoy spending time with Hyungwon, that kissing him in the morning is not the highlight of her days and reuniting with him by the street they always connect in is not one of the reasons she lets the mask of faux happiness fall for one that is more tranquil, because she loves all of those things. She loves when Hyungwon starts his sentences and suddenly shakes his head, as if his idea sounds ridiculous, or when one word from his lips is enough to have her laughing. Specially, she loves when his fingers slot with hers and when his plump lips press to her collarbone, her neck, as if making her shine with a simplistic touch of his.

Even when she argues with him for it, she loves that he continues with the rules…that he absolutely and wholeheartedly believes in going by the right line, but she hates him even more when after this break up, she hears his keys slotting through her doorknob, welcoming him inside her apartment.

Her eyes don’t break away from the ceiling, wanting her life to be blank—white, as if she had never done anything, but instead, she hears the sound of rustling, perhaps from a bag and the noise of Hyungwon’s knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside her on the couch. His long fingertips splay on top of her stomach, calling for her attention with small pats when he calls her name softly.

It’s up to her to break this up, as it seems.

Because Hyungwon is a creature of familiarity and she is one to push forward, always going for the end-line, to think that happiness is always at the end of every story. This shows in the way he looks at her, months after their initiation as a couple, his plush lips pulled into a smile when their gazes connect, his hair shorter and seeking for her touch when he takes one of her hands in his and brings it up to his face.

“I brought some food for us. Japanese, from our favorite restaurant.” He tells her as a peace offering, and she really wishes she could care less about this situation, but his words alone have her sitting up and shaking her head. Her hands cloud her vision, covering her eyes when she takes some deep breaths. “Hey, I know we were fighting before and we said that we’d be breaking up but—”

“But we really need to, Hyungwon.” She replies, being in this place before and once again, ending it before it gets worse. Perhaps, she really has to work on herself—know, for once, that life is not always about looking to cover the bad with the good, but learning how to improve the bad, slowly but surely, accepting it before it translates into something better. The man is silent when she uncovers her face, looking at her before settling the bag down.

“I know it’s been difficult, but I really love you—”

“And I don’t think I can love you quite as much as you deserve to be loved.” Then, she notices the bouquet of flowers he laid over her coffee table and how the steam of the food surround them, staring at each other for answers when Hyungwon’s shaky and breathy sighs, eyes somehow looking more than monotone, give her an initiative that he is heartbroken.

“You’re being serious with this…” He replies, standing up and saving his hands in the depths of his pockets, looking at her as if she has grown a second head. “…I—”

“Hyungwon, I need you to heal. I need me to heal.” Though, this will only bring more pain, but it’s what’s right. What should have done from the beginning, wait and wait and wait until she was ready to love again. “Just—Listen to me for once. This isn’t about another man, or comparing you, or loving someone more. I feel like I’ve grown…I’ve grown to feel for you, but you don’t love me the way I should and I don’t love you the way you deserve.”

She takes him by the shoulders then, fragile under her hold, broken when, once again, Hyungwon is tossed to the side as if he means nothing. Walking him towards the door, she hears him speak softly. “Oh…I understand…”

The door opens, taking him outside before the tears that are willing to escape her eyes tell her to hold on to him, because only him had been open enough to love her, to understand her even when she was hurting, to let her play her little game of being happy when in reality…she hasn’t been fully in a while. “Just go before I kiss you, okay? I need us to end this tonight.”

Hyungwon looks over his shoulder, asking: “No more getting back together?”

And maybe, she’s a bit egotistic, because she leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss to his lips, wanting to remember the outline of his lips against hers, the way that skin seemed to be made for her…but not in the way it happened. “After this, no.” She tells him, looking at him with a plea in her eyes. “But we’re on good terms, okay? I just think it’s bad that we’re on and off again. I’ve gone through this; I know how it’ll end either way.”

“Alright.” He blinks for a moment, watching her when she closes the door on his face and in a brief second, she’s already looking through the peephole, watching the absolute drain of emotions in his face, eyes looking for solace, lips moving softly when he parts them. Once he turns around again, she watches his fists press onto the wall as if he’s lost a war, holding onto reality. It has been tough on him, broken up by the people he had grown to like, people he was in relationships with…but she’s thinking of how much more happiness she’ll give him once this is over.

Hopefully, there is some for him and some for her. They deserve it, even when it is by themselves.

It’s over.

###

Don’t do it.

But…

No, don’t do it. You’ll break his heart.

But…

When talking to her friends, it’s easy to play it off as some break up. It’s her talent, after all, to simply push her worries away…and some other times, she drops everything on them about how difficult it has been to let go of Hyungwon. Much more when, slowly but surely, she had grown to have some lovely feelings for him. The battle, or rather staring battle, between his contact on her phone have her sighing, pondering as to why she misses him so much…or why she hasn’t deleted his number…or why she feels a pang on her chest when all her pictures with him are deleted from his social media, but from hers it’s almost impossible.

This time at night, he’d still be up. This time at night, she’d be kissing his shoulder and watching a movie with him, helping him grade tests if she’s feeling like him. This time at her life, she’d be learning how to love him, slowly but like a waltz, like the ones she has always wanted to share with him. Reaching out for him would hurt him even more, and maybe she’s giving too much credit to herself by thinking of herself as a heartbreaker, but the reality is that she had broken her own heart too many times. She says she’ll get better, and finally, she does…but when she is on the way there, she always misses the past.

Always. Never. Ever. She has to get rid of those words.

…A text would not hurt, right?

Yet, contacting him again would have her holding onto something that was finished and he’d be the same way. She doesn’t want to burden him, to remember him of how hard he tried before it eventually came falling down—all because she saw the past more than she saw a future. Her fingers hover right above the delete button, images of the first time she saw him in person filling her brain. So kind, sweet, silently so, the one person that had given her more light from the Sun rather than shadowing her in the process. And they made a mess out of that, too much light until they got blinded by their desires of what they wanted out of their relationship.

Somehow, when she finally deletes the number, she thinks she can feel his lips pressing down on hers…or she wishes to be able to hold him, to make him feel loved as she should have loved him in the past, to run towards him and hug him in her arms. Yet, it’s too late. It’s time for her to love herself, rather than loving someone else.

But…

Is he tired?

Is he eating just fine?

Does he miss her, just as much as she misses him?

A sigh leaves her lips, rotating on her bed until she is looking out the window. The Moon blinks back at her, asking for them to be friends, to hold the night as if it is also beautiful enough to be loved and she comes to the conclusion that she only hopes for him to know that she tried. Hard. With all her might. With the love that she had grown to have for him but could never voice out properly in fear of ever…moving on.

In fear of him saying ‘goodbye’, only to be the one that ended up saying it.

#hyungwon scenarios #hyungwon #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #writing #the anti-love club #monsta x angst #monsta x fluff #monsta x au #hyungwon angst #hyungwon fluff #hyungwon au #maaaaaan this one #this one though #it was fun to write

[deancaskiss]

I feel really empty about the finale, I expected to cry and have all the emotions but instead I had a few seconds of sadness with Dean and just so much emptiness. All of the characters deserved better, Dean... from raising his little brother to having an Angel fall for him deserved so much better. He finally started to believe in 15x18 that he wasn’t the “ultimate” killer but someone who did things out of love, someone coming to terms with who he is... and they kill him like that. They pulled a PLL but for their main character.

Sam... a faceless wife and a horror party city wig. He deserved so much better as well. At the end of it, I get why they had them reunited, living the life they’ve dreamed about forever but Dean died so young, never experiencing anything in life.

And Cas... oh my god Cas. This hurts so much and I refuse to accept any of it, just fully living in fanfiction canon at this point. They made him vulnerable, they made him fall in love and they wasted so much. They wasted an arc that changed the dynamic of the show for a quick second and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay of that.

I wanted to do a rewatch, I actually wanted to start really soon but I just can’t right now. This show came into my life when I needed it the most, I was in a dark place and it brought light to my day. But now I don’t even have a happy finale to look forward to if I ever did rewatch. I have characters who deserved so much better and deserved so much love.

I’m really sorry about the rambles and the rant, I probably didn’t even fully explain everything I’m feeling. I’m just upset and numb and empty towards it all. I don’t wanna lose this show and I don’t wanna lose the characters but I just can’t accept the finale and be fully content with it. I just can’t...

Hi nonnie. I just watched the episode and I honestly feel the exact same way you do. I feel empty and numb. Dean’s death did make me cry, but that was it. I had no real large moments of joy. Nothing that made me smile or feel like I was watching my boys be who they really are. It felt disjointed and disconnected and I’m very upset about it. I’m grasping to the small details like Dean and Sam being in Heaven together, and driving Baby around forever.

Your description of Dean is so spot on. Saying he deserved better for everything he’s given. He deserved a life. He deserved love. He deserved to live and enjoy the world he spent his whole life protecting and saving. I completely agree with you that 15x18 gave us this new light for Dean- him seeing his fight for love and seeing himself filled with not anger or rage or killer blood, but love for his family and the ones he cares so deeply for. That’s the Dean Winchester I fell in love with. That’s the Dean Winchester who stole our hearts. This version tonight was not him. This was not Dean. Dean never gives up. Dean fights for his family to the end and beyond. Even typing this is making me cry. His death felt unfuifilled. Dean was meant to go out in a blaze of glory, not on some measly vamp hunt. It almost...

Okay, I’m not sure if anyone has said this, and I’m expecting hate for saying this. But that death made a mockery of his character. It was a slap in the face. The Greatest Hunter died on his first hunt after Chuck was powerless. And it makes it feel cheap. Like Chuck was the only reason he was a good hunter and without Chuck writing it, Dean was nothing. And I can’t accept that. It utterly destroys me. We’ve seen Dean prove himself over and over again without Chuck (ie “we’re making it up as we go”) and yet here he is, dying on their first hunt after Chuck as if his entire arc as a hunter has been a waste. It completely destroys his character. It makes the whole show a farce. Why show us Dean and Sam being something beyond Chuck’s control and the minute they finally take Chuck off the map, Dean dies in a salt-and-burn easy level hunt. It crushes my soul. I can’t fathom how hurt it makes me feel.

Having Sam not end up with Eileen felt cheap and wrong too. Why lead us with all these saileen hints for seasons and then drop that and have him a marry some rando we don’t even get to see. That’s not the Sam I fell in love with. That’s not him. I can’t accept that. He was devasted over losing Eileen in 15x18 and then we never see her again. Sam deserved the world after everything he’s sacrificed and I cannot begin to describe how upset I am over it. Like yes, I wanted him to have a wife and kids and to retire and be normal, but this felt like an imitation of that hope. Dean deserved to live longer in the world he helped to save. And I refuse to believe Sam would take Dean’s word and not try to save him or bring him back. That’s not who they are.

Okay, I’m going to try not to ramble here because it’s 3am and I’m not going to get any sleep but of all the characters, Cas deserved the fucking world and more. I am utterly desvasted over what they did to Cas. He died without love. He never knew if his family loved him and God I’m now full on sobbing onto my keyboard. Cas opened up, gave his heart to Dean, and died thinking it was for nothing. They could do a whole spin-off just for Cas and even that wouldn’t be enough honestly. I completely agree with you about living in fanfiction. You’re so valid in your feelings over Cas’ wasted arc. You summed up how I feel, and how so many of us feel. Cas gave the show new purpose, new direction, new hope, and they squandered it.

Oh nonnie, I completely understand how you feel about the rewatch. It’s so hard to fathom watching again knowing this is what it leads to. I understand why you can’t right now. What you feel is so valid and so honest and you deserve all the time you need to process everything. My advice? Take time. Find your happiness in the show again- whether it be characters or scenes or specific episodes that made you fall in love. And start with that. And when you’re ready, start rewatching, but only go as far as you want. You do not have to watch the finale again. THe ending can be wherever you want it to be. Do not let this be canon. The show is in the fans hands now. Make it whatever you want it to be. The writers cannot take your personal experience with the show away. It sounds like this show was a lifesaver for you, and that it helped you when you needed to get out of a dark place. I encourage you to find that again. Find scenes. Find episodes or seasons. Characters or plot points. Anything. Find the things about the show that made you happy and hold on. Don’t let go. No matter how badly they slaughtered the ending, no one can take your personal experiences away. No one can take that power from you. The show creators don’t have that power over you. Tell them to f’ off and you keep the parts of the show that saved you. No one can take that from you.

Please do not ever apologize for rambling to me. You can always always always come and ramble to me. I’m sorry my response got personal and long-winded and rambling too. I didn’t mean to get quite so full-throttle but your ask really made me feel things. Also, you don’t have to have all your feelings together right now. You are allowed to be feeling things you can’t express right now. That’s okay. All your feelings, even the ones you can’t put into words, are valid and acceptable. Everything you said and feel is so understandable. You are not alone, I promise. Take some time to grieve and mourn and be upset and angry and empty. When you’re ready, I promise you will find happiness in the show again. I promise. You are not losing the show or the characters. They’re yours. They’re ours. They are no longer in the hands of the creators/writers. They belong to the fans now. We create the stories and the future now. You don’t have to accept the finale... now or ever. You are allowed to be upset. Everything you feel is completely fair. Just know that I love you, that the fandom loves you, and we will be here to help you pick up the pieces.

#anon #anonymous #asked and answered #spn 15x20 #spn spoilers #rambles #this ended up being super long #i got a bit carried away #sorry for the tldr #my point is that you are valid in your emotions and you are not alone #i love you bb #stay strong

[perpetually-blue]

supernatural finale. we’ve all been hearing about it, whatever, even if you didn’t want to. it’s happening. 15 years of love for these boys, there’s bound to be feelings. but GOD it’s so much worse because it was so beyond awful.

jack wasn’t going to bring dean back. hate to say it but there it is. too much interference from a higher power is what got us here in the first place. but it didn’t need to be like that. it shouldn’t have. dean was born to die. he’s the love of my life and i will always save a special place in my heart for him, but we all knew he wasn’t ever going to grow old and die in hospice.

that doesn’t mean dean was meant to die LIKE THAT. sam was supposed to live a life with eileen, 2.5 kids and maybe doing some research for other hunters on the side because let’s face us, they’d never really get out. dean would’ve been a mechanic or something simple that he truly enjoyed, living his life with his brother, being happy for him like he always wanted. he would’ve lived. would he ever really moved on from cas? no, not in my opinion. cas was the first person to ever really tell him how much he deserved, how good he was, how loved he was. no one was ever going to even come close to that angel. there was no point. he would’ve been happy by himself and probably with miracle dog.

they would’ve gotten a call from someone important to them, garth or maybe claire if she was still around, i don’t know and it doesn’t really matter. one last hunt to tie up lose ends, finish where dad left off like they were always meant to do. the stupid vampire clowns would’ve been researched and remembered and “if it were my kid i would want someone to save them” kinda thing. deans got a soft spot for kids, we know this.

they’re mid hunt and the boys are starting to realize they might not make it out of this one. there’s too many, they’re out of practice, whatever. by a stroke of luck they finish the job and things look fine until dean gets all pale, looks to at sam with that look in his eyes that says “oh fuck, this is it.” sam rushes over, parallel to dean at the end of season two (or whenever sam got stabbed in the back, it’s been a minute cut me some slack) and deans death scene? phenomenal. stays almost exactly the same, except more emphasis on the ‘it’s fine, i’m ready, promise me you’ll live out the rest of your normal life. i’m at peace with this’ kinda thing. i would loved to see some illusion to cas but we all know that would be way too gay for the cw. sam takes deans body back to the house, covered in blood, and told eileen to make sure to keep the kids in the house. he’d cry to her on the porch and she’d promise she’d be right next to him when they burned his body, hunter style, because dean winchester wouldn’t decay in a wooden box for the rest of eternity like some childhood pet.

dean always wanted a big funeral. sam knew this, and that was the least he deserved. he makes some calls and on a sunny thursday morning, when the air is crisp and the day is still, the entire fucking world shows up to the funeral of the most legendary hunter there ever was. people sam didn’t know came to pay respects to this man, who devoted his life to everyone but himself. they’d pour a beer out, and sam would be the one to light the torch and do the deed.

he’d live out the rest of his life, mourning his brother and best friend, but he’d live for his family, for the brother that always wanted this for him. because that’s what sam deserved and that’s what sam was always destined to get.

dean would get to heaven and be blown away by the improvements jack was making. he knew jack hadn’t forgotten about him (he’d stop by every so often, leave a half eaten three musketeers in the kitchen, etc) and he was right. the boy he raised was one of the first people to greet him when he finally made it to heaven, telling him how much he missed him and whatnot. he’d be ecstatic to tell dean all of the things he’d done and bring him to the people he’d missed for so long. ellen, bobby, jody, benny (because he deserved to be in heaven, damn it), and everyone else. and when he’d said his hellos and caught up with everyone he’d been missing, he’d look around with a sad and almost disappointed look in his eye. jack would see it and smile. “you didn’t think he wouldn’t be here, did you?” and when dean turns around, he sees the angel he’d been in love with for so damn long. cas would be all “hello, dean” and while we wouldn’t get a kiss or anything, i’d settle for a teary eyed hug and a big smile that said all of the things dean never got to say.

then one day, when sam had lived his long, happy, drawn out life, he’d lay in that stupid hospice bed with (hopefully a better wig) his family all around him, and his eldest son would take his hand and tell him it was okay. and that’s all he would need to let go and finally reunite with his big brother, the single most important person in his life.

that’s how it should’ve ended, and fuck the cw and the show writers for taking that away from us.

#supernatural #supernatural finale #spn #spn season 15 #dean winchester #dean winchester deserved better #sam winchester #goodbye supernatural #and now i’m done #it’s out of my system but i’m still just as pissed #mine #shitpost