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#if you can make me go from completely hating a character to completely loving them then good job
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I don’t understand the fandoms love for Daemon, by all rights he should be as hated as Joffrey was. Not only did he do almost everything Joffrey did, he also did worse. Even Tywin wouldn’t hold a candle to his cruelty. I understand liking a villainous character, I do too with Cersei and Tywin, but I’ve never went out of my way to whitewash their characters. I love them because they are villainous and practically irredeemable, if team black stans liked Daemon for his villainous actions before and during the Dance of Dragons I wouldn’t have any problems with it. But the fact that they go out of their way to defend him killing Rhea Royce because “he was forced into a marriage he didn’t like!!!!” As if she wasn’t too. And the fact that they defend him sending Blood and Cheese to psychologically torture Haelena and kill Jaehaerys due to “a son for a son it’s only right” when they despise Alicents moment of madness when her son was denied justice, makes me want to hurl.
It’s alright to like villainous characters, it doesn’t make you a bad person if you like them. But you know what makes you a moronic person? Whitewashing everything that makes a character compelling because you want to like them without seeming like a ‘bad person’. Your opinion on a character does not determine your own morality, it doesn’t make you better or worse than someone who hates them. But what it does, when you erase their entire identity as a rouge to make them more palatable to you, is make you seem moronic, stupid, and lacking any critical thinking and reading comprehension skills.
Rhaenyra is a compelling character because she is entitled and spoiled and lacks any political experience, she shows how badly Viserys fucked up when he tried to compensate for his guilt of murdering Aemma. Alicent is a compelling character because she is a mother who is trying her best to protect her children from the reality that if Daemon took the throne for Rhaenyra, he would kill all of them because they are a threat. She is even more of a compelling character in the books because of her ambition and cunning and want for her family to rise far above the ‘station’ of being a noble house in the Reach (as if house Hightower aren’t the oldest house in Westeros who could trace their lineage back to both the Garth Greenhand the high king of the first men and the Andal Kings that came afterwards). Daemon, for all that I dislike him as a character, is compelling for his ruthlessness and shortsightedness in his pursuit of the throne. He didn’t raise an army for Viserys because he thought he was a competent leader, he did it because it raised his own standing within Westeros, he groomed Rhaenyra not because he loved her, but because having him in her good graces means that he stood a better chance of being king after she was named heir. His ruthlessness is compelling. Taking it away to make him into a ‘malewife’ or a ‘loving father’ or a man who is lacking any ambition beyond wanting a valyrian wife is taking away his agency. It makes him seem like a Gary Sue who only wants the throne because his brother said Rhaenyra was heir. It makes it so that he is so completely white bread like that not even I, someone who loved the more morally bankrupt characters in ASOIAF can find him agreeable in any way shape or form.
Daemon is a fundamentally morally bankrupt character and he should stay that way. If you like him you should acknowledge and accept that he is one of the ‘bad guys’. Just as Cersei fans acknowledge and accept that she is fundamentally a morally bankrupt person who is selfish to the extreme. We like morally black characters because they are morally black. To make excuses for their actions is to take away their agency which makes them unlikable and very hate-able.
Daemons actions aren’t justifiable, blood and cheese would never be justified. A son for a son is akin to the visceral disgust the fandom had to Alicent when she asked for Lucerys’ eye, yet I bet when season two comes out and Blood and Cheese happens we’d see Daemon fans applauding and trying to justify it as ‘not that bad’ and ‘team green deserved it because of Aemond’s actions’ when little Jaehaerys, a boy of 6, was as far removed from the incident as can be. It would be akin to Team Green saying that due to Jaehaerys’ death, Aegon III or Viserys II deserved to have their head cut off in front of Rhaenyra.
Let morally bankrupt characters be morally bankrupt. You aren’t morally bankrupt because you like said character, it’s a fictional story loosely based on Empress Matilda. It’s not that deep. Like the characters you like without trying to justify their actions. They might be monstrous but you aren’t because you like them. It’s not a measure of your own character because you like said character. But it is a measure of your intelligence when you try to change said character’s entire personality to make it so that they are more digestible to you and everyone else.
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Hazmat Hole 1: Overture
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I went back and forth on whether to do the pilot or not, but ultimately decided not to. Pilots are meant to be an episode 0 that isn’t necessary to understanding the plot. I may go back to it after episode 8 if I’m not completely sick of this.
It starts off with a story book narration about how hell started because Lucifer was a rebel or something and just states very vaguely that he had big ideas heaven didn’t like. Also Adam was the first man, Lilith was the first woman but she didn’t like Adam and liked Lucifer better they fell in love or whatever and Lucifer gave Eve the apple and he and Lilith were banished to hell. I wish I could lie and say I was skipping over details but they used more words to explain that in about as much depth as I did there. Anyway. The important part is that Charlie is a princess of hell as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith and the angels go down to hell annually to purge excess souls.
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These two start off annoying and by god I do not see them getting any less so. Charlie is legitimately the most generic Disney Princess rip off I have ever seen in my life, complete with reading books aloud bursting into song. It’s genuinely jarring to hear her swear because you can tell the voice director basically just told her actor to pretend she’s auditioning for the little mermaid. Vaggie is annoying because she’s written like a middle schooler’s first “strong female character”. She’s the emo love interest in a B movie that was straight to video and made by people who don’t actually know what emo is.
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Appropriation Deer is literally just here to make wise cracks and occasionally move in ways that make animators cry and deviantart users in 2010 scream in joy.
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They could probably cut the budget in half by not having him in the show. Anyway no he is not here to do anything besides whine about how television sucks and emphasize that he’s only there at all because he’s into watching people fail and cry or whatever. He’s very flat as a character since he’s just there to be tumblr bait.
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Angel is here and spends the entire episode being sexually aggressive to the point of making everyone there uncomfortable and that’s the entire joke. That’s it. He’s a gay man who says penis and wise cracks and sexually harasses the men in the hotel. Because that is how vivziepop writes her mlm characters.
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We get a two for one easy joke with these two. Haha gay man is harassing a man who isn’t gay as well as haha asexual gets hit on but he says no way.
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Angel is here because “crack is expensive” and they don’t charge him rent there.
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Which he says while drinking a whole bottle of liquor to establish he’s an addict because vivziepop is as subtle as a bull in a China shop.
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And thus we are taken to our first musical number. It’s very underwhelming.
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Also Vaggie sings like she’s getting over a cold and plugging her nose and trying to do an impression of a duck.
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The opening number also leaves me with a perplexing question. Can you die in hell? Do you go to super hell if you die in hell?
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And we get our first real sexual harassment/assault joke from a giant slug flasher trying to make Charlie touch him in the middle of a musical number. I’m sure this bodes great for how angel’s abuse will be treated.
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I hate that I know this but as someone who did shamefully hate watch sausage party twice I have to point out that Adam here is literally just a rip off of a sausage party character.
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Everything down to the voice direction is literally just a rip off of the main antagonist of Sausage Party, the douche. This is probably somewhat intentional as vivziepop was a massive fan of that movie when it came out, but if you’re going to make an homage that borders on plagiarism (this is a joke I’m not accusing her of plagiarism here but it’s giving original character, donut steel), does it have to be from sausage party? Does it really? There’s other movies. Anyway he doesn’t say much, just establishes himself as a douche.
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Back at the hotel they start filming a new commercial since Alastor intentionally made their first commercial bad because he wanted to make fun of them and hates TVs just that much. Nothing very interesting happens. Angel is hot horny. Husk doesn’t want to be there. Alastor makes a deal with Vaggie to help as long as she never makes him go on TV again.
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We go back to Charlie begging Adam to stop coming to hell and killing demons by the hundreds every year and Adam says no in frankly one of the only songs that I like from this series. Sadly, it’s still terribly annoying and repetitive.
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Viv posted meme please clap.
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Isn’t this the homophobic character from the pilot? Didn’t realize she was given a male voice to imply she’s either a drag Queen or trans I guess. Great. I’m sure it’s a very artistic and respectful choice and not every other more likely reason this was the casting decision.
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The episode ends with the discovery that an Angel was killed during the last extermination so they plan to come back in just six months to kill every demon in hell. I might care if any character established themselves as anything other than a vessel to spout boring exposition and sex jokes for twenty minutes.
And that’s episode one. It’s honestly just boring and all of the explicit language sounds extremely forced and awkward.
0/10, the one okay song wasn’t enough to save it. Too much exposition dumping.
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unlikelysaintdelele · 22 hours
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some interesting things i've noted during my ACOTAR reread Pt. 2
*SPOILER WARNING for those who haven’t completed the series*
I finished ACOTAR a few weeks ago but I haven't gotten the chance to transfer my notes until now. Once again, names have been color-coded!
Feyre couldn’t keep her mouth shut only around Rhys. It’s almost like her true self comes out around him.
Anytime Feyre calls on some strength, the image of Nesta comes to mind. She sees Nesta as strong and admires her for that.
A queen without a throne
Are tattooed bargains a night court specialty? I was listening through the graphic audio, as a reminder, so some things slip through.
Pearls in Nesta’s hair. It makes me think of the pearl jewelry Elain later receives from Lucien. I think pearl is meant to represent luxury, and it seems to complement their features.
Elain is the only one with their father’s eyes and I always found it interesting. How similar is Elain to her father? Her father favored her, but I think that’s only because Nesta was cold and Feyre was busy.
Warrior beast vs half-wild beast, Tamlin and Feyre bonding for being unrefined (Disney Beauty and the Beast reference?)
“Don’t ever disobey me again” is honestly not the vibe, Tictac.
I don’t like knowing Tamlin’s anger is on a tight leash with Feyre. He’s angry at her. It feels overprotective in such a suffocating way.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” SOB
The most beautiful man she’s ever seen
Blue eyes so deep they were violet
They just stared at each other! As if in a daze! 
Night pressed in closer around him, smiling
Molded from the night itself, star-kissed night
I have a random “until dawn” note… idk
Cauldron boil me (double, double, toil and trouble… sorry, random silly thought)
Elain began learning to grow veggies! Reminder, the soil at the cottage was crap, it couldn't sustain the veggies. Elain could barely grow flowers. People keep forgetting that Feyre was their only access to nourishment because there was no other choice. Sweet Elain gets so much hate for not using her gardening skills to help, but it was set up so that she couldn't.
Nesta’s iron-will allowed her to resist glamour! I want more on Nesta’s strength. This is one of many reasons why I’ve been a Nesta stan since day one. I know she was cruel but we’re told why in book one. She wanted her father to do something, anything: be a father and care for them. I’m not saying it was any excuse to be cruel, but they were in a shitty situation and she showed her love for her family in other ways. Being willing to lay down her life for Elain? Going after Feyre even knowing it was risky? Asking to be taught to paint? She loves her sisters, she just shows it differently.
Heart of Stone was mentioned for a second time! hehe
Wyyyyyyyyrrrrmmmmmm. I’m a fan of giant worms (Dune, Star Wars). Fun fact about me: I went through a short phase where I just kept writing about worms.
Feyre deems Elain as stronger for being hopeful. She sees so much strength in her sisters and admires them for their differences.
Love Nesta! More Nesta love. She wondered what a woman might do with a fortune and a name. She wanted to travel! She wanted that independence! Pre-war Nesta hurts to experience. She’s opening up now that she’s safe socioeconomically and physically. It makes me wonder what else would have begun to heal if she got more of that peace and security.
Rhys: because I’m tired and lonely. The things he does and willingly puts himself through to protect his court and anyone else he can spare. Love his complexity.
(apparently there's a character limit for each block of text so here's a lil divider)
Honestly? I was vibing with the Tamlin romance, it was chill. The bite was nice. UNTIL Rhys appeared. Timtam just seems so stale in comparison. The chemistry is immediate between Rhys and Feyre, the tension is palpable. I’m still not over how Feyre chose Tampon over Lucien. why would I pick someone so clumsy with affection and who isn’t around nearly as much as the sassy redhead who bickers with me like an old friend? Rhys > Lucien > Tamlin is the order at the moment, and the order will stay until I have to consider the other boys (wait for me batboys).
Tamlin’s dad was Amarantha’s friend! They fought together in the war. Rhys’ father killed Tamlin’s, so Amarantha took Rhys in as a lover as punishment. Amarantha is so greedy honestly, and it's so gross. She wants Tamlin and Rhys but the only reason Tamlin hasn’t been forced like Rhys is that she wants to be chosen, she wants him to come to her willingly
Even in their last moments together, Rhys and Feyre are honest with each other. Honest in a way I've never seen her with Tamlin.
Very excited to begin ACOMAF, my fave book of the series.
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the-monkey-ruler · 2 days
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i think it's cute how (to my knowledge) zbj is the only one of the pilgrims who has a spinoff story where swk erases his name from the death ledgers :> i think it pairs well with the semi-common post-canon narrative of zbj going to live on huaguo shan. it's like he's really part of the family now ❤️ (story is 十八罗汉斗悟空:孙悟空两情猪八戒)
I've never heard of this story before but WUKONG starting shit just cause the Arhots were getting more attention PLEASE!
He just drags Bajie with him XD
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I love they immediately go to get Wujing to come help but hate that it was all a trap because this imagine is so cute of the three of them just hanging out.
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THEY ARE SO SWEET TOGETHER! I love stories where after the journey they are still such close friends/family. Drop of a hat would just join each other to beat up some guys no questions asked. But boooo this guy turns out to be the Arhat after their butts.
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But still a lot of great moments of Bajie and Wukong fighting together! Do love that they still continue the trend that Wukong has trouble fighting under water and him asking Bajie for that help makes a lot of sense with him used to be the Marshall of the Heavenly Reeds.
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But still Bajie isn't nearly as immune to elements nor has the same stamina as Wukong does, making him tire out quickly and being more prone to magical attacks.
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八戒想了想,道:“我倒是想起早年学过一门八面玲珑功,此功虚头巴脑,对敌全然无用,但今天正用得上,他无影无相,我只求滴水不漏,或许可以破他这路拳。”
说罢他强打精神,分出七个分身,“推窗望月,蛟龙出水,猛虎下山,回首掏……”招式纷繁复杂,虽然没有半分实力,却十分好看。
悟空笑道:“倒也不负这名,果然八面玲珑,世人皆喜这套,纵使无半分力气,却可立于不败之地也。”
Wukong! Is that a genuine compliment?! I never thought I would see the day! I bet that his moves were beautiful!
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This is my first time seeing Bajie with his own clones so that is pretty neat to witness in another story.
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I'm SCREAMING at this page please! Look at Wukong! He has no regrets!
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<3
此刻他以闪电瓶轰击,有制高点优势,已立于不败之地。悟空不怕闪电,但八戒这边就苦了,趴下找路逃命,裤子被炸得稀烂,如芒刺在股,无力再战。
八戒趴在地上,听雷声渐渐小了,仰起头一看,一座巨型金塔正凌空劈来,悟空眼疾手快一把把八戒推开,这才没被罩入塔内。
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Wukong is such a homie, he knows that Bajie doesn't have the same immunities as him and even pushes him out of the way when he is prone.
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八戒虽然惧怕罗汉法宝,但他就盯住过江罗汉,俩人正是对手,拳来耙去,直斗得愁云惨雾,日头偏西。
But also good on Bajie for not backing down either! He is clearly scared and feels outmatched but he refuses to back down. Love that about him, always a coward but he ain't a doormat.
体高罗汉见过江罗汉无法取胜,就拿闪电瓶对准八戒,一连串闪电直刺过来,八戒吓得一哆嗦,压低云头,躲到了流沙河中,找到一片荷叶,把鼻子埋了进去。
这边悟空不再需要顾忌八戒,金箍棒变大变粗,将方寸山棍法解数全部丢出来,形成一张紧密的棍网。虽然被围在核心,他还是哈哈大笑:“任你们罗汉花招再多,谁也进不了俺的棍网!”
Also that even when Bajie does go to hide in the river Wukong sees this as more advantageous than anything as he can finally go all out. He was holding back cause Bajie was in his line of fire but now he is out of friendly-fire range he can do maximum damage without worry!
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悟空战退了四罗汉,再来寻八戒,发现八戒已不在荷花池,连连高叫无人回应。
不知八戒吉凶如何?请看下回分解。
Is Bajie okay? I can't tell in the end if he was passed out or he scampered off completely.... I hope he is okay...
But still this was a great story! Thank you so much for recommending me this I had such a great read! I love seeing stories where the pilgrims still get together and get into trouble at times! Especially when it is still very in character and so much fun!
If someone can tell if Bajie okay thought :'-) please I have to know!
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pepprs · 10 months
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acnl is a superior game to acnh in almost every way except the graphics. it’s actually making me mad
#purrs#working at the roost… mr shrunk… main street … multiple shop upgrades… megaphone (and microphone AND CAMERA on the ds)… villagers have#distinctive personalities and spread rumors and ask to schedule a time to come to your house… pattern grass… kappn island minigames… bananas#and mangos and durians and perfect fruit… the town tree and all the history in it… like idk. i love acnh too but it’s just so hollow and i#wasn’t even around for acnl in its glory days. like i STILL haven’t unlocked all the shops or shop upgrades on acnl or even met Gracie yet#or whatever and on acnh the only thing i need to do is get like 2 more reactions and then ive completed the game. and it just feels#pointless logging on and whatever (ik im saying things that have already been said a million times) bc the villagers are just dolls who say#the same 3 things over and over again. meanwhile eunice and benjamin are two of my og acnl villagers and they’re still there 5 years later#and i log on and talk to them and it’s so rewarding to bc they feel like actual.. people! who i love and who love me. whereas my acnh#villagers who i also love will just carry on exactly as they were no matter how long ive been gone. idk. i just don’t understand why they#decided to downgrade so much for acnh and let go of all these features and characters. i really hope they’ll make another game and that jtll#have everything new leaf had and more. and i mean the new horizons features can stay too (except for diy. i HATE diy)#ac#exterior building customization beyond just houses… sitting on rocks and tree strumps (and tree stumps having patterns)…. 😭💔#the basket where you could put stuff from kappn islands in there so it wouldn’t fill up your inventory….
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true-blue-sonic · 4 months
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actually on the topic of nightmares!!! i wonder if anyone in the cast has had nightmares related to the phantom ruby. that war lasted like six months after all!
Heh, I personally do feel that making the war last literally half a year was just far too long. It's quite a significant chunk of time for many characters... yet absolutely nobody is affected by it. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. And of course I understand this is a Sonic game and they're not gonna shown everyone gravely injured and with PTSD, but with six months I truly would have expected some consequences on the cast. If it had only been one or two months or so, it would have been easier for me to suspend my disbelief on this topic, I feel.
Regardless, to answer your question, it does make sense to me that characters would indeed have nightmares. Infinite killed like four or five people right in front of the Avatar, Eggman's Death Egg is filled with captured people and he is heavily implied to have murdered captives, Tails saw Sonic "die" before his eyes(?), the Resistance at the end of those six months was reduced to almost nothing... and then lost 80% of their forces in Operation Big Wave on top. And then they all nearly got scorched alive in the fake fun. It gives enough grounds for nightmares, also considering how absolutely insane Infinite's power is with the Ruby. So I would not be surprised if the cast is in some way affected by it and needs time to mentally recover from the events of the game; it's just not shown or indicated to us, basically.
#I have somewhat conflicted feelings on Forces#on the one hand I do quite like the game and gameplay and I love Infinite as a villain and I don't hate the plot at all#but on the other hand... I do feel that the execution is lacking‚ so to say#they wanted it to be very grandiose but couldn't deliver there because that is not how Sonic games really *work*‚ perchance?#in the games characters 99% of the time are not affected by what happens to them and especially not on a longer time span#but with a *six month* war it feels *impossible* to me that they are not affected by their circumstances#so then the entire world gets basically destroyed/terraformed towards Eggman's interests... and yet it will never show up again#and everyone honestly just shrugs it off like it never even happened#it's definitely a strength of Sonic characters that they *can* do that and I find it inspiring#and my disbelief luckily does not take away from my enjoyment of the game#but... yeah‚ haha. It's a situation where they could not have won anyway: the earlier plot drafts are glued together by narm galore instead#and those definitely tried to be more serious about it all#hmm... it makes me wonder how 'far you can go' to make an epic story wherein you still can expect the cast to not be affected so much#but I would say Sonic being captured for 6 months while Eggman destroys the planet and murders/captures the populace throughout is too far-#-considering the complete lack of engagement with those rather heavy/serious points and the timespan they took place in#but regardless this is a very incomprehensible ramble about my thoughts on Forces haha
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pavocelus · 1 year
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think i might .. make my portrayal darker, really lean on kaeya's fatui ties, the sacrifices made in pursuit of knowledge for khemia and ruin machinery in khaenri'ah, khaenri'ah's relation to other ancient civilizations // i already have ideas concerning pierro which will be on my sideblog, how they'll tie into my kaeya, the heirarchy of the eclipse dynasty ( it's literally named that because it's like " khaenri'ah was plunged into darkness, but it will be brought back like a solar eclipse ) // i feel like i've been writing a very watered down version of him.
#ooc.#it's because i was influenced at the beginning of my portrayal#thinking that making the only poc in mond have darker and villainous ties would be giving into stereotypes#which it would#but it's also not my fault that mhy hates melanin#it's not my fault that kaeya has the peak framework of an antivillain#there's no solid reason for kaeya being the only one with melanin in mond which is just so sus#i hate that his story is genuinely more interesting to me if he leans into the villain side of it#love kaeya fighting the good fight and shit but he doesn't get enough screentime to really emphasis if he's struggling with his loyalties#idk#i just don't see the point in portraying kaeya as this edgy mysterious dude if you're only ever going to lean into one facet of him#another person made me feel like / as a brown person myself i should be egging kaeya on to be good but like / as someone who comes from#a colonised culture i would still be just as angry that i had to be displaced and put into unfamiliar land and also suffer religious trauma#like#there's only so much sunshine and rainbows you can put into someone who has dealt with that much hardship#ALSO CAN I JUST SAY that the more i learn about key characters the more i realise that not all of them are completely bad and not all are#completely good#like can we remember that the abyss order is basically a revolution#and the fatui's ultimate plan is to strike back at a dictatorship#like of course it's not that simple but these statements aren't WRONG either
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tbos-main · 1 year
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in part 1, we have tai. nerdy fuck tai. and between all of the story's darkness and decline, we have mentions of how he's writing a bestiary. he's written a few other books before, being an academic, but this is going to be his magnum opus because one thing about tai is that he loves animals, but he's obsessed with monsters. it's his dream to explore the west and document the monsters there, something no one has ever done before. instead, he puts his work aside in order to help hammari in the war, the two of them coming up with the plan to wipe out the beabelas, and tai kills himself before his bestiary is ever finished. still, when it's found, it's the most thorough account on burnosian fauna ever written, and gets published as it is. the suicide of tai is seen as a tragedy to many academics, a great mind who would have done so much more for the kingdom had he not fractured under his own greatness. he's sort of referred to like a human version of the library of alexandria burning.
in part 2, we have nareen. nerdy fuck nareen. and the book of animals nareen is obsessed with that loki gave her when they were kids is actually tai's bestiary, a haunting of the narrative throughout three books. and nareen lets nebetta look at her book and nebetta pours over it, absolutely fascinated, and drako gets her to show him the section on dragons and darya listens for hours while nebetta rants and in the back of their heads there's the knowledge that this man, this distant author, was a friend of hammari's, is connected to them somehow, but it all seems very far away.
in part 3, we have aiden. nerdy fuck aiden. and when firinne explains his goal of ridding the west of monsters, there really is only one book to turn to, and aiden pulls out a very old copy of tai's bestiary, which the 3rd gen amagis refer to throughout their entire series.
#something so simple yet gut-wrenching about the things that prevail through each part of the story#like the tiny things each generation of amagi have in common even if it's as simple as a book#they are completely oblivious to what it is and how it connects them but it does!!!! it so does!!!#from tai to nareen to nebetta to aiden to firinne to-#and like i KNOW it's not the same book i KNOW multiple copies were published#but the idea of touching something tai touched even just figuratively? im sooo crazy#like tai as a character is very fascinating to me#bc he's objectively a bad person#like you can argue that he was out of touch and didnt understand what he was doing#but like the basic rundown is that - after decades of war where wisers were The Enemy - tai simply didn't see wisers as human#he gave the entire thing a very clinical approach and never once considered that these were actual people that he was butchering#and it was only AFTER they were all dead that it hit him and it was far far too late then#personally i dont think tai deserves forgiveness#but he does have my sympathy just because he's so TORTURED#we have this fantastic mind this CELEBRITY effectively and he becomes a grand part of burnosian lore#which by definition dehumanises him (ironically) and makes him seen very far away and that's fine#except we know him. we read a whole book with him. we saw him get angry when hammari and sayna carved their initials into the library#we saw him go days without sleep bc he was just so excited about a recent monster report from erialia#we saw this crooked nerdy passionate young man with PLANS and friends and love#as well as hatefulness and coldness and the crueller side of intellect#and in the middle of his life when he's supposed to be reaching his zenith#before he ever finishes his greatest passion his MASTERPIECE#tai 'very suddenly' kills himself#and people talk about it like a ROBBERY#like he stole away his mind from burnos because he's SEEN it be weaponised and he never ever wants to be responsible for that again#so there's ALL OF THIS TO HIS CHARACTER and i just have to be normal about the fact that in part 2 and even more so in part 3#tai is just some guy#like it's just 'a burnosian bestiary by professor tai of the royal archives'#and that's it. that's all that's left
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arttheclown · 1 year
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i’ve gotten pretty chill about differing opinions on fictional shit as i’ve gotten older but i do have to say. i sincerely don’t trust people who don’t like sienna LOL
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ziracona · 2 years
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Me: *Goes into the A Way Out tag bc I wanted to see a picture of Leo bc the game end was awful & im sad* *instead of anyone talking about how f’d up what Vince did is, or how bad the twist end was it’s just ‘what if the other one was the traitor cop’ ship AUs & ship art without any plot fixer even thrown in*
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groguspicklejar · 3 months
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You know what I love about ur series and stories in the mafia141, is that the main character is still afraid of them even if they’re kind and loving to her. But it’s so subtle and it gives some realism and emotion to the mc.
AND I MIGHHHTTT BE READING AND THINKING TOO MUCH ABOUT IT but I even saw it in the medieval series so I had to ask about it.
It’s not like they kidnapped her and she quickly accepted her new life immediately like “oh welp gotta live with these men I know nothing about that barged into my house with a gun then killed my husband” it’s like, if one of them even looked at her wrong or spoke to her ina slightly different tone of voice then she’s shivering
cause all the low trauma she received from all the stuff she went through w them comes flooding back her senses.
She could die.
Matter of a fact she was upset and refused to speak to them when they barged into her house and moved her into a new place, completely taking over her life and doing as they pleased and.. can she say no? she knows she’ll suffer the same deal as her ex husband… she’s scared
Yeah she likes it of course and she’s living a semi good life.. but it’s still clicks in her head that “price could kill me if he FELT like it and I should be afraid of that and listen to him to keep my limbs in check.”
Waiting for the day they’ll be bored of her. So she keeps them entertained doing it unconsciously. Survival instincts sorta?.
maybe you’ll write something about that where she finally lets herself be calm and normal with them and not fearful as much but of course it’ll take time action and patience.
She’s prey getting tossed around by the predators
-🧇
you know what's funny? you are absolutely right about all of this (including the part about the medieval au because the element is more prominent than in this au). you've just described the next part of this series perfectly🤭 y'all are gonna hate me for this🙃 warnings: +18 smut, p in v, light choking, angst, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, past trauma (gaslighting, manipulation, emotional, psychological and sexual abuse) coming into play.
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you've always known this would be temporary. whatever this arrangement with 141 is, you know it can't last forever. it's a casual thing, that much you're aware of, even if it hadn't been explicitly stated. sooner or later, one by one, all four of them are either going to get bored and/or find partners of their own and live their lives separate from yours.
"you're losing my interest." his voice is calm, lazy even. but there's an edge to it. the icy fire in his veins nipping at the ankle, a predator barely flashing his teeth to remind those watching that he could end them just like that. "and that's very dangerous."
he leans back on the couch on his end, breathing out a slow puff of smoke. the words aren't directed towards you, but they leave a chill in the air all the same. the person sitting across from Price, a short old man with a pot belly and a comb-over, gulps and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his sweaty nose.
to you, Mr Hodge looks like a father of four kids. a local, working man just trying to get by. he looks like he's just trying to gather up enough money for all of his children for college and probably waiting for the eldest to give birth so he can finally be a grandfather. he looks like he could be telling stories to the little ones at Christmas. you'd never guess that he's an advocate for some other devil in another gang territory.
you squirm on Gaz's lap. he comforts you by rubbing your back, quietly telling you that the meeting will be over soon. you hadn't meant to be here. you wanted to leave as soon as the man had arrived, but Price didn't mind you staying.
"please, sir..." the nervous man said, hands fiddling with the glass of bourbon in his hand. "it—it's a fair deal."
"is it really?" Price challenged, raising an eyebrow. "you think any deal with Phillip Graves is a deal worth making?"
Mr Hodge doesn't answer. he remains incredibly still, eyes blinking rapidly at the leader of the group. he looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here and honestly, you don't blame him.
Price leans forward and flicks his cigar over the ashtray with sigh a sigh. the action stretches his dress shirt tightly over his back, the two top buttons already undone.
"i know his lot. he's the kind that doesn't keep his word." he says, eyes lazily shifting to the guest. all amusement fades and his voice darkens. "and the kind that stabs his own in the back."
you don't know who Phillip Graves is. but you know none of the boys don't like him. and you know the boys also don't like treachery.
you've heard things, whispers from your coworkers about people going missing around the city because they pissed off the wrong man (or men) because they said something they shouldn't have to someone else.
you've heard about how Ghost put down the men who betrayed him and left him for dead, how there weren't even bodies left for their families to bury. you've heard that Gaz had swept through an entire room of men who stole from their organisation, per Price's command. and he'd done it happily because he was equally as pissed. you've heard that where there's smoke, there's Soap because he's rumoured to be a bit of a pyromaniac.
hell, the act of treachery itself is what brought you to their doorstep in the first place and got your late husband buried six feet under because he decided to bite the hand that fed him.
"and you want me to go into business with him." Price added, his tone making it clear that he was against the idea.
"think he takes ye for a fool, Captain." Soap scoffed with a light shake of his head.
"oh?" you watched the amusement spark in his eyes again as he glanced at his subordinate. the gaze shifts back to the sitting across from him. "is that true, Mr Hodge?" Price lilts, smirking. "do you take me for a fool?"
"n—no! no, sir. that's n—not true."
poor guy, you thought. he's only a messenger. scared out of his mind as he's surrounded by a pack of wolves. you want to intervene, you do.
but John's words "you're losing my interest. and that's very dangerous" echo sharply in your mind and deter you from speaking up. you don't dare to say a word, fearing that the wolves might turn on you instead.
you bury your face in Kyle's neck and close your eyes, trying to tune out the man's pleas for mercy.
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technically, you never had a say in the matter. coming to live with them, that is. you're not ignorant to the fact that they could've either killed you or forced you to live with them, whether you consented to it or not.
the only reason you went along with it is because you wanted to let them believe that you didn't know this tiny fact. to let them believe that you're a pacified lamb, letting them herd you wherever they want you to be. you know it'll hurt far less if you comply because you've seen what happens, or at least heard of what happens, to those who resist their will.
and it's been easy to let them do whatever they wanted. sell your little apartment. move you into another one. take you to their base. sit on their lap. kiss them. have sex with them. let them pump you full of cum whenever they like. it's easier that way because you don't want to have to think about what'll happen if you refuse to do any of it.
but after today, after the last few weeks at least, it's been getting harder and harder to ignore that just because the edge of the knife isn't pressed to your neck right now doesn't mean it won't be in the future.
you're only as good and useful to them as long as you do as they say. that's the policy.
Gaz finds you staring at the sink after you've washed your face in the bathroom. it takes everything in you not to flinch when he touches your shoulder. "you alright, love? do you need anything?"
your eyes catch his in the mirror and you're choked by the influx of words. you want to tell him that you never want to see that again. that you never want to be part of that world.
but you can't say it. any of it. you don't want him to tell you that you're thinking too much of things, that it's just a normal part of their lives. that you'll adjust. that you're overreacting.
suddenly, it's not your own voice that speaks to you. that warns you, heeds you of your actions. but it's someone else. someone long dead and buried.
don't be difficult, Blair hisses at you.
you don't flinch. your expression doesn't shift to reveal his thoughts, his warnings flooding into your mind. coaching you on what to do, on how to survive.
words that were once spoken to suppress you, to put chains around your wrists and build an entire cage that gleamed under the light. words that you now cling to because they make more sense than anything.
don't be difficult. don't raise your voice. don't cry. don't cry. don't cry-
thankfully, you think you've gotten better at lying over the last few weeks. you manage to pull him in for a kiss, murmuring a lie into his mouth, telling him that you're okay before he can discern the legitimacy of it. it distracts him as he immediately melts into your touch and wraps his arms around you, sliding his tongue into your mouth.
when you were sure that he'd been thoroughly derailed from your internal turmoil, you finally pulled away and gave him a sweet smile.
he nudges your nose against his, all concern melting from his eyes as he presses his lips over yours again. his hand gripping your ass and hooks your leg up, lifting you onto the sink. just as he was about to start pulling at your clothes, he hisses sharply when his phone vibrates.
"fuck..." he groans, pulling away and checks his phone. "duty calls, bunny."
you pout while working on fixing his tie. "later?"
"later." he agrees, pecking your lips one last time.
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Gaz doesn't show up later as promised. you try not to be disappointed. of course, the work he does is important. dangerously so. instead, Ghost took his place in keeping you company.
you try not to wince at the dark spotting around his eye. he kisses your palm over his mask when you asked him if he's alright. he suggested a movie because he was exhausted. you gladly let him in and get on to making popcorn for the two of you. you found him slumped over on the couch and chuckled at him.
not fifteen minutes into the movie, a historical comedy to help him relax, you're both startled by the sound of his phone vibrating on the coffee table. you think you know what's about to happen. your chest tightens anyway as you watch him reach for the device.
"fuckin' hell." he sighs as he reads the text.
"now?" you ask as he stands up. "really?"
"sorry, luv." he pockets his phone. "duty calls."
you left the tv on to distract you from the overwhelming ache of his absence. it's hard not to take it personally. but it's so fucking reminiscent of those first few months with Blair. always taking calls and texts and leaving right after.
soon, he wasn't just taking off to work. soon, he'd be disappearing off for days without telling you where he went and comes back dishevelled and bright-eyed with lipstick marks on his shirts. soon, he'd be snapping at you for asking too many questions, telling you to be grateful for what he's given you, telling you to shut up.
whatever it is 141 has going on is obviously keeping them busy, you get that. but for the fact that they basically abducted you from your old life and brought you here, you think a little bit of attention should be granted to you, right? they owe you that much at least.
you just don't want to end up in the same destructive cycle with someone even more dangerous than the previous man.
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Price has a habit of surprising you when he has you making a mess of his cock. doesn't happen often, but happens enough times for you to anticipate something that will make you tighten around him and make him all smug about it after.
this time, the surprise wasn't so pleasant.
you're startled by the hand on your neck, immediately gripping his wrist and your whole body locks, paralysed. it takes everything in you not to struggle, not to move. all of the heat draining from you and ice filling your veins in the blink of an eye as you look up.
for a moment, it's not Price looming over you, but a dead man. the image flickers away just as quickly as you gasp and blink rapidly to stay focused. and just as quickly he stops rocking his hips and immediately eases up on you, releasing his grasp on your neck with the heavy call of your name.
"i'm sorry. are you alright, love?" he pants, eyes scanning your features, his hand cupping your face. "i didn't hurt you, did i?"
you're whiplashed at how fast his demeanour changes. one minute he was determined to rearrange your guts and the next, he's checking to see if you're okay as if he's looking for wounds.
"no, i—" you breathe deeply as you're sitting up, trying not to let your voice get too squeaky. "i–it's fine. i'm fine."
he doesn't believe you. you try to feign a smile. "give a girl a warning next time."
the momentary lapse in judgement had kicked in an unpleasant rush of adrenaline that left you trembling as you reach for him, trying to pull him in for a kiss.
but he stops you, holding the back of your head to pull you away. "maybe we should stop."
deep down, you agree. you don't think you can get through the night without something breaking in you if you allow this to continue. but you have to let it happen.
don't be difficult. the words flitter to you in the quiet night. your eyes drop to his cock, still hard, still glistening. he's still sweating, flushed and chest heaving in breaths to make up for the steady flow of blood.
"no." your hand touches his shaft, stroking him while you press your lips over his. "keep going."
"darling." he grabs your wrist, careful not to be too forceful as he pushes at your shoulder. "stop."
your gaze shifts away from his, shoulders raising. "sorry."
"don't be." he gently says. "hey..." he cups your cheek, meeting your eyes. "this is on me. i pushed a boundary, i made you uncomfortable. if anyone's sorry, it's me."
"you didn't mean to." you reason, but he shakes his head.
"regardless." he refuted. "i'm sorry, love."
don't cry. don't cry—
tears sting your eyes the more you tell yourself not to let them spill. John brings you into a warm embrace, silencing every voice in your head and fills it with his instead with soft apologies.
"won't happen again, alright?" he murmurs into your hair and you let out a deep sigh of relief, melting into his arms.
it doesn't stop the tiny voice at the back of your head telling you not to get too comfortable.
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it doesn't go unnoticed that the rest of the boys refrain from initiating sex. and honestly, that might have been the last straw.
you needed a break from them. one night with your girls. with Eleanor. one night to forget about everything and get drunk out of your mind. but alas, you're denied that too.
"you can't be serious. it was one time!" you say, exasperated. "i can't be cooped up in here all day, every day for the rest of my life."
regardless of your pestering, Soap maintains an apologetic look. Ghost barely acknowledges your raised voice from the couch, opting to read his book instead of listening to you bitch and moan about how you wanted to go out with your girlfriends again. but you know he hears you. you know that the moment you attempt to grab your purse and run, he'll be right there, blocking the door.
"i ken, bonnie." Soap's hands gently grasp your shoulder as he tries to placate you. "ye want some fresh air, but—"
but, your skin prickles uncomfortably at his next few words.
it's not safe.
it's for your own good.
for a split second, you're in your dead husband's mansion. the weight of his gaslighting and years of isolation pressing down on you. suffocating you. dragging you down to the bottom of the dark waters, forcing you to sit in the cold, silent abyss of your loneliness.
Blair didn't love you unless it's easy for him. till you were pliant and easily malleable to his whims. always asking for forgiveness when he hurt you, rather than asking for permission to do things he knew would make you uncomfortable. losing him had been twice as easy, far better than lying to yourself and telling your heart that what he does, he does it to keep you safe.
you silently beg Soap not to say it. that he's just joking. that he'll even go with you. but no.
"we think it's better if ye lay low." he tells you. "just for a little while."
and there it is. always the same damn problem, always the same shtick. same man, different faces. you feel the sting at the corner of your eyes, your heart beating too fast for your lungs to catch up.
"and how long is a little while?" you snap, shrugging his hands off. from behind him, you barely catch the shift of Ghost's head.
"bonnie—"
you shake your head, taking a step back to swirl and go straight back to your room, hiding further inside this prison.
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you avoid them for a week. hardly make any conversation with them too, despite them being around you nearly all hours of the day. you quietly eat dinner, not making eye contact with any of the four of them.
"Soap tells me you wanted to go out the other day."
the dinner table goes quiet. your gaze lifts to catch his at the end of the table, twirling his fork. Gaz keeps eating, eyes fixed on his plate. Ghost glances at you only once. his sigh does not go unnoticed by you, almost as if he knows what's coming. Soap's grimace gives him away.
Price's expression is unnervingly stern. you manage to keep a blank stare, despite the blood roaring in your ears. you may have gotten better at lying. to Soap, to Gaz and maybe even Ghost. but not Price. he's always seen right through you and that is not about to change anytime soon.
there's four of them and only one of you. you keep this at the forefront of your mind.
"i did." you nodded.
"and you understand why you can't do that right now." he reasons with a calm tone he often uses on his dogs boys to keep them on a leash, to keep them from lashing out. "you got mugged the other day."
"that was an isolated incident." you state, shaking your head. "it's not going to dictate my life."
and neither will you. you refrain from saying that last bit.
he calls out your name. it's a warning. "we're trying to keep you safe."
"i understand that." you countered. and you want to spit in his face but you shove a carrot in your mouth instead, opting to crush it between your teeth. "but i'm not a pet to be kept on a leash."
his expression turns to stone. something in you tightens uncomfortably. poised to sprint, to run. you're poking the bear, you know it.
the air shifts. tides turning against you. suddenly, you truly understand Mr Hodge, truly understand the phrase 'surrounded by wolves'. slowly, one by one, you take in the subtle shift in each of them. all four gearing up to snap their teeth at you, to keep you pinned down if it comes to it and let the leader of the pack take the first bite.
you understand the gravity of your situation. that you shacked up with four dangerous individuals. men who have no qualms about pulling someone's teeth out of their gums or carving out a tongue. you don't know if ever they'd done that to someone but you don't put anything past them.
and you don't delude yourself into thinking that you'd never be on the receiving end of their wrath.
"i'd rather we not fight about this, love. i know it must be frustrating not to see your friends as much as you like." his placating tone only adds fuel to your fire. "but it's easier to keep you safe where can see you."
where we can see you. alarms ring. you narrow your eyes.
"easier to keep me safe or easier to control me?"
a knife clatters on the porcelin. "bonnie."
Gaz also attempts to place a bruised hand on top of yours, but you pull away. ignoring his silent plight entirely. the cut above his eyebrow pulls as his expression shifts.
"no, no— it's alright, boys." he raises a hand at them, a calm expression settling over his features as he looks at you. "darling, is that why you're upset? because you think we're keeping you caged?"
"i'm only calling out what i'm seeing." you state coldly, leaning back against your chair. "after all, i'm not unfamiliar with the bars of a golden cage."
the silence that follows is deafening. the Sergeants look at you in horror at the implication. Ghost looks like he's ready to throw the dinner plate across the room. Price remains unnervingly still, glowering at you.
"i am not your late husband." it's the coldest he's ever been to you.
and it feels like he's freezing the whole room over. blood roars to your ears faster than you can think and it almost makes you dizzy. the frantic beating of your heart tells you that you're risking too much, flying too high.
"none of us are." Ghost finally speaks up for the first time since he arrived. "we just want to keep you safe. we're not trying to imprison you."
sure doesn't feel like it.
"well," you start, "if i'm not a prisoner, then i guess i'm free to leave—"
"no." it's a sharp cut to your chest. your mouth snaps shut, eyes wide as his chair groans loudly when he suddenly stands. "you. stay. put. is that clear?"
there it is.
above Blair's voice, it's Price. and he's much louder.
you're losing my interest.
he holds your stare. unwaveringly so. unwilling to let you escape it. the cold turns to fractals turns to ice, frosting over your feet, keeping them stuck on the ground.
and that's very dangerous.
and you see it, him, for what he is. don't be difficult. far from the gentleman who opens the door for you and kisses your hand. don't be difficult. far from the bashful man who blushed at your mother's compliments. don't be difficult. far from John, who apologises for being too rough, for putting his hand on your neck, apologising for scaring you.
don't be difficult. don't be—
no. he's someone else. he's the man who stared down a frightened old man, asking if he should kill him for bringing him a shit deal. tell him you that the men who mugged you will get what's coming to them and it won't be pretty.
he's the man who put your husband in the ground. and he won't hesitate to do the same to you. so you lie down and surrender to his will. accepting whatever he says and accepting his demands, if only to live a second longer.
you grit your jaw, smiling through the strain in your teeth.
"crystal." it's sickly sweet, spoken with an edge as you dip your head in mock submission. "Captain."
your fork clutters loudly. Soap flinches at the noise, eyes wide as you catch his with your smile falling, revealing a dark expression as you stand up and walk away from the table.
later, when Price tries to open your door, he's not surprised to find it locked.
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y'all really looked at the title and immediately assumed the worst? come on now😂 what do you take me for??🤭 also, can you tell that i'd been listening to Halsey and Sofia Isella while i was writing this?🙃 banners by @cafekitsune mafia!141 masterlist offer a note in the picklejar
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ao3commentoftheday · 4 months
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my biggest obstacle as a writer is that i desperately want to be a popular and well-known fic author, but my main fic inspiration comes from characters most fans don’t want to read fic for, or ideas that go against popular fanon/characterization and so are doomed from the start. i end up feeling paralyzed and like i can’t write the unpopular ideas I want to write, because i hate knowing i could have done better by writing something with broader appeal. but whenever i try to write solely for numbers i lose motivation while the halfway through the fic. so i end up unable to write anything and feeling miserable because of it.
i want to see my unpopular ideas come to life, but i don’t want to see my fics crash and burn and keep missing the chance to create fic that people really love. so most times, i don’t write anything, but i hate that i’m so hamstrung by my own anxieties. i so desperately wish i could create one of those extremely well-known long fics that most people love and always rec everywhere, but i feel like i’m completely incapable of that. i know i should be writing for myself, but i’m greedy and want results and for people to like my fic, however unlikely that is. wanting to write my ideas but knowing i’ll limit my audience if i do is something that’s constantly on my mind. do you have any advice for me?
My biggest question after reading your ask is simply: why?
You're very clear about wanting to be a popular writer. You want to write a fic that lots of people talk about, and you want people to know who you are. Have you examined that desire at all?
You say that the things you actually want to write are not the things that will make you a popular author. That means you have a choice:
write things you don't care about with no guarantee of becoming that Big Name Fan or
write things you love and enjoy spending time writing and know that BNF status will probably never happen.
Writing fanfic is really not a great way to try to become popular. It's an even worse way to try to become "famous" in any kind of way. So dig into what it is that you hope to get from the "broader audience" that you could appeal to by writing something you don't really like.
Are you trying to get a feeling of being liked? Respected? Looked up to? Do you want to be someone other fans look to for advice or for setting the tone of the fandom? Do you want love? Power? Some kind of community connection? Recognition of the effort you put into your works?
Some of those things likely will require you to pretend to be someone you're not. You might even manage to write that one big fic that gets thousands of comments and tons of people talking about it on tumblr (or wherever else you care about, social media-wise).
Others you can probably still get by writing your "unpopular" ideas but seeking out your fellow fans. It will take more legwork to find them and you'll need to be willing to be the first one to reach out for a conversation, but it can definitely be done.
I'll leave it up to you to decide what you actually want, anon. But take your time and scrape off the top layer of shiny thoughts about popularity first. Then you'll be able to see what's underneath.
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alatusprinz · 9 months
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when you call him good boy .
characters: wanderer/scaramouche, kaedehara kazuha, albedo, xiao
genre: smut, (warning of explicit words choice)
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Scaramouche/Wanderer sneers at you mockingly when the words fall from your mouth. His grip on your hips tightened as he snapped his hips into your behind roughly, deliberately thrusting in so deep so your back arches with your face buried into the pillow. He hated when your needy moans were silenced when it wasn’t on his accord, making him reach out to grip onto your hair roughly to pull your body up while holding onto your neck with his other hand, forcing you to find balance in an awkward position with your knees on the mattress and back against his chest. His hips never halted one bit, still thrusting in relentlessly into your drenched walls as your mind blanked out from the dizzying stimulation. Tightening his grip on your neck, he leans into your ear, almost purring in a sickeningly sweet voice. 
"Fuck, you like that don't you? Like being used like a little dolly for me?" You whimpered weakly as your scalp slightly burned from his tight grip, your body moving to meet his slams involuntarily from the force of his each thrust. It always felt like this, almost too good, too overwhelming from the borderline ruthless way he fucked you. As your broken moans persisted and he wanted to see you break down more, let go of your hair with a satisfied smirk and instead held onto both your wrists to pull your body back to meet his hips, manhandling you and taking you as he pleased.
His grip on your wrists tightened as pulled them back to slam your ass to his hips over and over, your cunt almost sore and aching from how he used you like a toy for his pleasure.
“Yeah? Fuck, call me that again, let me know how much of a good boy I am being.” 
-
Kazuha’s gaze was always starstruck and almost drunk in love when he was staring at you as he slipped into your snug walls over and over. He was so hypnotized by you, completely allured more every second you two spent together. And he never knew he could fall even deeper until you looked at him with that sultry gaze, mouth open and making the prettiest sounds for him, and called him your good boy. Your good boy. An infatuated smile blossoming on his face, his cock pressed in deep, then he moved in a grinding motion slightly as you squirmed and mewled in pleasure. He was looking at you with heart in his eyes, completely enchanted and greedy to see more of your beauty. Nobody could ever compare or hold a candle to how beautiful you looked under him when he made love to you.
That’s right- he almost whimpers at your word as his hold on your waist tightened, immediately pressing his lips onto yours. His kiss was needy, desperate to feel you in his arms, if there was anything in this world that he couldn’t lose ever, it would undoubtedly be you. Kazuha’s heart feels like it would leap out any moment now as he rolls his hips into yours, trying his best to go sensual and slow although his patience was running thin every time your breathy moans graced his ears. His lips lowered to your neck, warm breath tickling your skin, and he whispered. 
“All yours my love, all yours… Your good boy, yours…” 
-
A soft moan leaves Albedo’s mouth in pleasant surprise at the praise he hears from you. His inquisitive gaze never leaves your face, in fact his sight never seemed to focus on anything else other than your pretty expressions when he made love to you. The way your eyes fluttered shut when his tip brushes over your sensitive spot (one he knows all too well by now), the differences in your moans when he grinds into you, slowly pushes as deep as he can to drag upon your tender spot, or when he sometimes indulge his greed and slams into you harder and faster as your nails scratched into his back- all of your precious reactions are recorded in his mind like a rewound tape. 
You called him good boy- his pupils dilated visibly if you had half the mind to notice, and suddenly he was all the more determined to please you more. His mouth latched onto your nipple, one hand gripping onto your waist as he rutted inside your warm walls, pleasured groans leaving his lips while he sucked on harder. You swore sight blurred as his other hand was suddenly rubbing over your clit, circling and flicking the way he knew you moaned the prettiest for him. He knew your body better than you did by now, Albedo took silent pride in that fact. And he intended on being a good boy for you every day and night, whenever you desire him.  
- Xiao almost gets too pleasure-driven from the moment your lips are on his more sensually, from the second your touches turn suggestive. His eyes are always clouded over with lust, desire and admiration towards you, he is hardly even lucid when he finally pushes into your eager walls, he can never control himself fully once he had a taste of you- all that mattered to him was you, your moans, and your face twisting in pleasure. That’s why when you first called him your good boy, he didn’t even hear it. His one hand was pressing yours to the mattress, fingers entwined as he rammed inside needily, it felt so good, he wanted to be buried inside your snug walls forever- this insatiable lust transfers over to his actions because as much as he tries, he can’t seem to be too gentle and from the way you moan sharply each time he slams in and his cock rubs against your insides just right, Xiao couldn’t find it in him to slow down anyways.
His fingers laced with yours on one hand, indirectly holding you down in place with how with each thrust made your linked hands sink down onto the sheets, and his other holding onto your hip so tight it felt like it would bruise,. You muttered out a weak “good boy” once more- this time he heard it all too well. He groaned in pleasure at your words, at your beauty or your tight cunt he couldn’t tell, all he knew was he had to give you more, make you take more of him. His lips are on your neck and his sharp teeth sank down on the side, his lustful panting and deep moans ringing in your ear. Your wince of pain was drowned out in the high-pitched whiny moan when his claws unintentionally dug onto your hips as he forced your walls to take all of him, slamming his hips to yours desperately like he would die if he didn’t engrave the feeling of your warmth around him inside his mind. Your sweet moans always made his heart flutter, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he bit down harder on your neck, rutting into you as though to remind you that you’re all his, and he’d be your ‘good boy’ always and forever.
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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Friends with Benefits with Jujutsu Kaisen Characters
Pairing: Yuuji Itadori, Ryomen Sukuna, Fushiguro Megumi, Nobara Kugisaki, Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Maki Zenin, Haruta Shigemo, Mahito x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, fluff, confessions, post-sex cuddles, friends with benefits, creampie, marking, biting, neck kissing, possessiveness, degradation
A/N: If they were my friends I'd take all their benefits.
YUUJI, NOBARA, NANAMI
Initially likes how you're available to call and text often and that you you're just a phone call away. They're pretty affectionate both during and after sex, kissing your forehead, massaging you, making you food. They whisper sweet nothings that you can't decipher because they're too busy eating your pussy. Feel complete around you, not just when they're inside of you, no just having you by their side is enough.
"Can't you stay a bit longer tonight, I wanna hold you some more. Do I look like I care that we're sticky and messy? We can take turns cleaning each other up if you want. Thought so, we can do it tomorrow then. Hey, I was thinking, I don't have Sorcerer work for a few days, how about you and I go somewhere. Like a date yeah, if you want it to be that."
SUKUNA, GETO, MAHITO
You'd think you were already theirs from the amount of cum that has been pumped into you over the course of your arrangement. You might not be official but they sure do act like they own you, leaving you with marks on marks after every encounter. There's no position they wouldn't fuck you in, seeing how your eyes glaze over when they thrust and move you around like their fucktoy, they're enjoying this much more then with any other person. They don't want any other person, and they sure as hell don't want you to go to anyone else either.
"Another one, you can take more cum in that slutty hole I know it. And if you can't well there are other holes I can fill hahaha. Oh don't act like you hate it, you've been calling my name for the past three hours, moaning and thrashing around, begging for more like a lowly slut. Does my slut want more? Aw, you're so pretty opened up and full of my cum like that. You don't let anyone else fuck you like this do you? You better not, I don't want anyone else knowing how good your holes are."
FUSHIGURO, GOJO, HARUTA, MAKI
They confess to you in the middle of having sex with you. They've been holding back from saying anything for a while now, always biting their tongue when it was time to confess. No more, they can't bare to see you go off with someone else when they're already here, they love you. They're hugging you from behind, kissing your neck as they ease out of your tight pussy, feeling you relax against them and whispering how they love you. Arms tighten around you in anxiety, waiting for your rejection, instead receiving a kiss and being straddled, wanting to celebrate the new status of your relationship.
"You're so cute like this. Found your weak spot over here huh, you can squirm I'm not letting you go. Maybe I never want to let you go. Yeah, I don't, I'm tired of seeing you leave, I'd much rather have you by my side forever. What do you say beautiful, wanna be my girl? If you don't, let me know now because I can't keep- oh. You like me too, oh, I see. Uhm. Great. Hah. Wait, what are you doing now? A celebration? Haven't had enough yet?"
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valeskafics · 2 months
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"Family Dinner" - Rafe Cameron x Reader"
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a/n: first time writing for rafe, please don't crucify me if this isn't great lol. more to come, lmk if you wish to be added to the general OR rafe taglist 🩷
Summary: Rafe learns that you don't hate him as much as you claim to.
Word Count: 1,625
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, idk rafe is an annoying little bitch, p in v sex, unprotected sex, hand on mouth, anal fingering
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Outer Banks characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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When you move to the Outer Banks with your parents, the quintessential city girl from LA, Rafe knows he has to have you. You’re lounging around on the beach when he walks over to introduce himself, your sunglasses and earphones on, wearing a red bikini top and denim shorts that has his mouth watering within mere seconds. He sits down on the sand beside you, ready to introduce himself, but all you do is raise your sunglasses, giving him an annoyed look at having your peace disturbed. His gaze travels along your long legs, a wry smirk spreading across his face as he watches you remove your earphones.
“Hi. I’m Rafe.”
Your face is blank as you ignore him and walk away, hopping into your car and speeding off. He learns your name through Sarah, finding out that you struck up a friendship with her your first day in town. He makes sure your run-ins are more frequent than not moving forward. It’s like he has a sixth sense for figuring out where you’re going to be, and he loves the way your brows pinch together in annoyance when he finally makes his presence known.
Rafe follows you out to your car as you try to ignore him after grabbing some groceries for your parents, calling after you, “C’mon, let me take you out. We ride around on my motorcycle, I take you out for a fancy dinner and then-”
“Prissy rich boy isn’t exactly my type.”
He balks at your rejection, scowling as he leans against the door of your car, blocking your way in, “From the looks of this car here, you’re not exactly hurting for money. Come on. We can have the house to ourselves. Maybe a little Netflix and-”
“If you finish that sentence with the word ‘chill’, I’m going to throw up.”
Rafe raises his hands in mock surrender, looking completely undeterred, “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Like a feral little kitten.”
“Yeah, well, this kitten has claws and they’re about to scratch you if you don’t move the fuck away from my car.”
The blond chuckles, shaking his head and moving aside, opening the door for you, the gesture annoying you even more, “You’re a stubborn little tease. That’s alright. I like that. Just shows how bad you want me, being all sassy like this.”
Your brows fly to your hairline as you remark incredulously, “You’ve got a really inflated sense of self worth, you know that?”
He shrugs, “It’s justified. I’m handsome, I’m rich, I have a motorcycle. What more could you want?”
“A soul maybe,” you retort before slamming your car door shut, his hand barely moving away in time before you rev your engine and take off.
Rafe stares after you for a long moment before bursting into laughter, grinning to himself, “Oh, she’s definitely into me.”
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The next time he sees you is at the beach, and of course, Rafe approaches you once again, chuckling when you scowl at his appearance, “Aw, still mad at me, kitten?”
You let out a sharp exhale through your nose, glaring at him over the rim of your sunglasses, “No, that would require me thinking of you at all.”
He leans against you, pinning you in place against your car, “Alright. Let me ask you one question and you have to promise to tell me the truth.” Rafe waits for you to give him a reluctant nod before asking, leaning in, his breath hot as it fans against your ear, “Do you think I’m hot?”
“Yeah,” you reply honestly before giving him a tight-lipped smile, “But then you open up your mouth.”
Rafe snickers at this, “Oh, so you find me physically attractive, but it’s my personality that’s the problem?”
“I think you’re a conceited, arrogant jerk who needs to be taken down a few pegs, yes. Sure, you’re hot, but the problem with that is that you know it and you think it’ll get you everything you want.”
“It always has,” he supplies before resting a hand on your cheek, feeling quite successful when you don’t immediately slap it away, “What if I started acting nicer, kitten? Would you still turn me down?”
“Yeah,” you reply coolly, “Because it would just be an act to get in my pants.”
“So what? There’s nothing wrong with that. I would treat you well. Just imagine all the things I can do for you. I can buy you anything you could ever ask for-”
“My family has their own money,” you cut him off sharply, “I don’t need yours. Let me make myself emphatically clear.” You glare up at him, nostrils flaring with annoyance, “You and me? Never going to happen. You get that?”
Again, he’s left behind, watching you drive away, flipping him off as you go. And fuck if it doesn’t make him want you all the more. He’s never had to work for a girl this hard in his life. You’re different, you’re not afraid of him, like almost everyone in this town is. 
He bets you’ve thought about him naked though. Yeah, he’s absolutely sure you have.
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It all comes to a head when your father invites the Camerons over for dinner. He’s working with Ward on some development project, and while Sarah and Wheezie don’t come along, Rafe certainly does. He charms your parents, something that he knows has you seething. He can see the fury in your eyes as your mother insists that you sit beside him at dinner. You look so fucking good in that little black dress, he can barely keep his hands off of you.
You do your best to ignore him, but he knows you want him. Why else would you be acting like this? He moves a large palm to rest on your thigh, fingertips grazing against your sensitive skin. You grit your teeth in annoyance, narrowing your eyes as you turn to him, your parents blissfully unaware of what’s transpiring between the two of you.
“Get. Your. Hand. Off. My. Thigh.”
He shifts closer to you, glancing at your parents and his own stepmom and dad, before nipping at your earlobe and whispering, a wide grin on his face, “Make me.”
“You’re fucking insufferable,” you hiss, doing your best to remain calm and not make a scene.
Rafe smirks at you, moving his hand higher and higher up your thigh, his voice low and husky as he whispers, “If you hate me so much, I bet your sweet little pussy won’t be wet at what I’m doing right now. At how I’m touching you.”
He watches the way you press your lips together, your eyes going wide as you snap back, “It’s not. I promise you.”
Rafe’s hand moves higher and higher still until his fingers finally graze over what he’s wanted for a while now. He chuckles at the damp patch on your underwear, giving you a smug, lazy grin.
“Just like I thought. You want me, kitten.”
You stand up so fast that it almost gives him whiplash, blurting out that you’re going to show Rafe around the house, none of your parents seeming to give two shits about what you have to say. You drag him by the hand up to your room, pulling him into a heated kiss the moment your door closes. Rafe’s hands are in your hair, tugging harshly, making you moan against his lips as he moves you back toward your bed. You tug at his shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it aside, while all he does is push the skirt of your dress up and move your underwear aside.
“Knew you fucking wanted me,” he snarls, undoing his pants, giving his cock a few quick tugs, loving the way your eyes widen at the size of it, “Gonna fuck you so good, kitten, you’re gonna be feeling me for days. Gonna have to keep quiet for me though, can you do that?”
“Yes, asshole, I can do that,” you roll your eyes, “And this doesn’t change anything-”
You cut yourself off with a whimper of his name as he pushes the tip of his cock inside you, thicker than anyone you’ve ever been with, the stretch being almost painful, but not quite. Rafe lets out a low groan, moving slowly as he sheathes himself inside of you. You’re so fucking warm and tight around him, he can hardly bear it. Barely giving you a moment to adjust, he starts slamming into you, pulling his hips back and letting his cock fill you over and over. You moan his name, wrapping your legs around him, allowing him to fuck you harder, deeper, eyes going wide with panic when you hear someone calling out your name. You’re no longer in control of yourself, having entirely given yourself over to your lust, and so Rafe quickly covers your mouth with his hand, calling out to your father that the two of you are just playing a video game, the fat head of his cock slamming against you over and over, grazing against that rough patch deep inside you.
Your eyes roll back, your stomach tightening as Rafe continues fucking you, keeping his hand over your mouth as he murmurs, “Knew you wanted me. Gonna keep you with me, kitten. You’re all mine now. Gonna fuck this pretty little pussy every day. Gonna taste you next time. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me fucking you with my tongue? My fingers?” His fingers move around your backside, stroking against your puckered hole, making you whine against him, “Bet you’d let me fuck your tight little ass too, wouldn’t you? I own you now, kitten. You’re all fucking mine.”
For some reason, you don’t mind that.
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1K notes · View notes
rrxnjun · 8 months
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where do broken hearts go? [lmk]
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you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.
pairing: mark lee x fem! reader
genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.
wc: 12k (11.926)
warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic
playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz
a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)
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When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 
There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.
Step one – cry it out.
“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.
“Why’d you say that?”
“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”
“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.
“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.
“Yeah, but–”
“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 
He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.
First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 
Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 
And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.
And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.
“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.
“You know I hate cookies and cream!”
“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.
And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.
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Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.
Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.
“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.
“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”
“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”
And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.
It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.
“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.
Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 
“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.
“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.
“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”
“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.
Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 
Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.
“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.
Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.
And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 
And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 
Couldn’t he forget about that too?
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Step three – block his number.
The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.
Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 
Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.
So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.
“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.
Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”
“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 
“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.
“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.
“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.
“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”
“Mark–” 
“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”
The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.
“Mark?”
“Hm?”
“You still there?”
“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.
“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 
“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?
“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.
“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”
You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.
“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.
“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”
It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.
“What was it?”
“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.
“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”
The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.
“Good night, Mark.”
“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.
He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.
And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.
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Step four – date someone new.
“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.
“So…?” 
A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.
“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”
“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.
“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”
“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.
“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”
“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.
“I said he asked about you.”
“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”
Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.
“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”
“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”
“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”
Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.
Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”
Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.
“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”
“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”
“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”
“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.
“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”
“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.
“No, that’s not it–”
“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.
“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.
“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”
“I have you,” you try.
“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”
You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.
Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 
Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”
“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“
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And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 
And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 
The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.
“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 
Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.
Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 
“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 
“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 
“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.
And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.
You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 
Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 
It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 
Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?
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After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.
Step five – avoid him at all costs.
Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?
Wrong.
Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?
And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 
When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 
“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.
You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.
“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.
Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”
Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.
“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.
“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”
Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.
Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.
It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 
You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 
You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.
You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 
“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”
Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”
“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”
The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.
At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 
“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”
“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”
The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.
“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.
“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”
Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”
“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.
“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 
Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”
“Here, of all places?”
“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”
Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 
“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”
“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 
“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 
He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”
“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.
“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.
And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 
“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.
“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”
“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.
A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”
His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.
And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 
“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.
Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 
“I love you,” he says.
And isn’t that all that’s needed? 
A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?
“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”
“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”
“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 
“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.
Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.
“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”
And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 
Where do broken hearts go?
Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.
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“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 
“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”
“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 
“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”
You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 
You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.
“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 
“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.
Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.
“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 
That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 
And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.
He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 
“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.
“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.
“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.
Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.
“Mark?” 
“Hm?” 
“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”
“Even us?” 
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.
“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.
“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”
Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”
Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.
You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.
Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.
You guess your heart never really left the hill.
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