#like cool. way to put your money to bad use. or rather way to put your money to waste by not playing a game which is meant to be played

[dude-iloveu]

i don't know why i always have the urge to buy steam games even tho i do not play them At All

#psychonauts in my wishlist. both games on sale. i want buy #does anyone want the first game lol #eh. i guess if i end up buying them it's fine. even if i don't play them i'll just give my account to my siblings who will likely play #problem is i already have so many games i bought that I have not played #like cool. way to put your money to bad use. or rather way to put your money to waste by not playing a game which is meant to be played #lmao

[ohmytyong]

mark me in your heart

PAIRING: drug dealer!mark x bartender!reader (female!reader)

GENRE: angst, smut, kinda friends with benefits au, bartender!renjun, best friend!renjun, action au, open-ended narrative

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, explicit description of drug use (don't do drugs kids), use of pet names, trust issues, explicit language, mentions of food, smoking, emotionally unavailable characters, both mark and y/n are kind of assholes, explicit sexual content, angry make-up sex, rough-ish sex, unprotected sex (!always use protection!), heavy make out, choking, lip biting, nipple play, pussy slapping, spitting, oral (both m and f receiving), degradation, praise, spanking, crying, hair pulling, incredibly cringey dirty talking, aftercare (?), not proofread (let me know if i missed any!)

WC: 13k (12,975)

‣[PLAYLIST]: 505 by arctic monkeys, bad omens by 5 seconds of summer, slow down by chase atlantic, why do you only call me when you’re high? by arctic monkeys, a little death by the neighborhood, okay by chase atlantic

SUMMARY: when a sensitive and broken heart meets another one of the same nature, their instinctive reaction is to seek comfort in each other, and in order to heal themselves, they both need to be equally strong and willing to put all their broken pieces back together. but sometimes, some hearts aren’t strong enough to be saved; the only way to save them is if the stronger heart of the two is willing to take the risk and try for the both of them, whatever it takes.

A/N: it's finally here! it took me too long to finish this one but here it is! i know it might seem a bit fast paced or vague in certain parts, but remember this is all about the vibes and i deeply hope that you will enjoy it and give it some love because it definitely needs it <3

read on wattpad / ao3

“Hey Renjun, pass me that glass” you said as you wiped the thick tall glass completely dry before you put it back on the shelf behind you. You were moving mechanically at this point, the exhaustion of the long night at the bar taking over your entire body. It was 5 in the morning and you had just barely managed to kick out some of the remaining drunk nobodies who were so wasted, that their toxic-infused brains couldn’t even give them the signals to move their own bodies.

Working at the bar wasn’t your dream job but it’s not as if you had a better choice. It was either a bartender or a stripper. Both of them sounded equally bad, so you decided to opt for the slightly better one. If you could even say it like that.

It wasn’t a particularly ideal job but it was enough to get you by. It earned you enough money to buy you food and pay the rent at the motel you were staying at, it got you as many free drinks as you needed to help your mind escape from all your worries and you also got to meet some relatively cool people, so that was somewhat good. The working hours weren’t such a big of an issue either, you couldn’t really sleep anyway. So you were fine with it.

Most nights, the bar usually closed at around 3 am. There wasn’t a set rule on this; it usually depended on how many customers there were and how much they were drinking. Your boss had suggested that you shouldn’t keep the bar open all night long, so you kinda decided that it was best to close a few hours after midnight. You weren’t complaining about this though; the sooner it closed, the more time you’d have to get high with your co-worker Renjun at the alleyway behind the bar.

Unfortunately, tonight luck wasn’t on your side, as a group of friends kept on drinking more and more as the hours passed by, which meant that you and Renjun had to keep the bar open until later. You weren’t opposed to this idea, it only meant that you would earn a little bit more money. It was Renjun who started complaining, so he decided to take action into his own hands and practically dragged the drunks out of the bar.

This is how you ended up cleaning up the place this late, rather this early in the morning, with your co-worker. The two of you were too tired to speak, so neither of you made any efforts to spark up a conversation. You both just attended to your respective tasks, waiting for a specific somebody to show up.

Luck surely wasn’t on your side tonight. He would usually show up at around 3:30 am, right after the bar closed, and he would have all the stuff ready, just at the exact moment you needed it. Why was he late today?

It didn’t take a genius to understand that Renjun was clearly affected by the lack of the stuff. He moved around the place nervously, tugging at his hair and stomping his foot rhythmically. He was in a desperate need of it, and you would honestly lie to yourself if you said you didn’t need it half as much as Renjun did.

You put the last clean glass on the shelf behind you and went over to the storage room to grab a broom, so that you could clean the floor a bit while Renjun was still wiping the bar counters. As soon as you closed the door of the storage room, the little bell that hung above the bar’s front door rang with a tinkle and soon after it followed the sound of the so familiar footsteps you were waiting for all night.

“Hey kids, Santa’s here,” his voice resonated in the empty room as he waved a small transparent plastic bag that looked white because of its content. Renjun threw the handkerchief he was holding to the other side of the counter and dramatically jumped over it to go and hug the male who just entered. All of that just at the sight of the clear plastic bag with the snowy content.

“Mark, what took you so long my guy, I’m literally a dead man walking! Give this beauty to me,” Renjun exclaimed and snatched the plastic bag straight out of Mark’s hand. Mark smirked at what Renjun said and immediately started grinning at the sight of the boy’s eagerness.

Renjun went to sit on the bar stool closer to him and placed the bag on top of the counter he had just wiped clean. With slender fingers, he opened the plastic bag and dredged some of the content on the counter. With nervousness in his movements, he set the bag aside and shuffled through his back pocket to find his ID card. He started scattering the white dust all over the counter before he gathered all of it in a straight line with the help of his ID card. When he was satisfied with the result, he put his ID card back into his pocket, lowered his head to the level that his nose touched the cold surface of the counter, took a deep breath and snorted the entire line of crack, the product going straight up into his nostrils.

Renjun blinked several times before he slowly lifted his head. He scrunched his nose and wiped it with the back of his hand, his drowsy eyes looking surprisingly bright considering his state. “Man, whoever hasn’t done crack, never, they haven’t known the beauty of life yet” he chuckled. Mark smirked at Renjun’s comment and you couldn’t help but shake your head amusingly, a small smile creeping up at your face.

Renjun took the plastic bag with the rest of the cocaine and put it in his pocket. “This baby’s for me, thank you,” he amused and turned his heel towards the storage room. “Don’t come look for me, I’ll be right here. If I take too long to come out, then you should be concerned,” he said and closed the storage room door behind him; a scene that was surprisingly quite familiar to you.

You then set the broom down and walked towards Mark. “Hey” you whispered and Mark greeted you back in a low husky voice. “What took you so long? We were expecting you to come earlier” you asked him.

Mark shrugged and leaned his elbow against the counter. “I came by at our usual meeting hour and saw that you guys were still open. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me so I decided to drop by later,” he said and you nodded in understanding.

“You do have more of those plastic bags on you, don’t you?” you asked him and he chuckled. “Of course I do, pretty. Let’s go outside and treat ourselves a bit, shall we?” he suggested and you nodded again, walking beside him towards the alleyway behind the bar.

The sky was painted in a deep hue of light blue, the moon and the stars still visible in the early morning sky, the sun barely seen in the horizon. You huffed in a sharp breath and put both your hands inside the pockets of your jeans as a reaction to the crispy air of the early morning, as you leaned your back on the damp wall behind you. Mark followed right after you and did the same. He shuffled into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a clear plastic bag full of crack, two crack pipes and a lighter. With almost automatic motions, he filled the pipes with crack and lit them up. He handed you one of them and kept one for himself.

You looked at the crack pipe as if it were an oasis in the middle of an infinite desert and you were so thirsty that your dried up mouth and throat were already relieved just by the sight of it. It only took you one second to react to the visual stimuli in front of you, quickly removing your right hand from your pocket and pulling the pipe straight from Mark’s hand. You brought the pipe to your lips, closed your eyes and took a long, slow drag. This was exactly what you needed.

You immediately felt your body relax and your mind clearing up. The moment you took the drag in, all your worries and problems completely vanished, even if it were only temporary. It was your brief sweet escape from the huge bitter world you were forced to live in.

A chilly breeze flew and you lifted your shoulders at the shivering sensation. Mark noticed immediately and he pulled you closer to him, removed one of the sleeves of his jacket and draped it over your shoulder, slinging his arm over it too.

"So," Mark spoke up, breaking the easing silence, "how was work today?"

You shrugged your shoulders. "Eh, like usual. Bunch of random people came in to drink their problems away and give us their money in exchange for adulterated alcohol. But Renjun had to drag some of them out of the bar, he literally grabbed them by their collar and feet and dragged them out of the store, you should have seen it. It was way too funny" you said and chuckled at the memory of the incident that happened a couple hours ago.

Mark giggled at your statement. "Damn," he dragged out the word, "too bad I missed that" he said and brought the crack pipe to his lips and squinted his eyes in pleasure and relief when he inhaled the poisonous content.

The next few minutes remained silent. There was only the sound of cars passing by being heard in the distance, it was probably people going to their early shifts at work. Normal types of work. Unlike the one you had, unlike the fate you brought upon yourself. That’s when the realization of your situation hit you like a truck. How could your family cut you off so easily when they found out that your dreams were different from what they were expecting of you? Were you just a tool for them? Another burden to take care of?

"You seem unhappy" Mark broke the silence. He was looking straight ahead in the distance, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, probably because he was a bit too high to notice anything.

"Because I am" you responded to his comment, turning your head to look at him, searching for a sense of home into his soulless eyes.

Mark smirked and turned his attention to his heels. "You know, I wanna help. Right? You know that" he said with a raspy voice due to his sleeplessness. "But I don't think that feeding you drugs is any help" he now turned his head to look you in the eyes.

You pressed your lips into a thin line before you spoke. "I ask for the drugs Mark, you're not feeding me anything. It's my only escape, what else am I supposed to do?"

"I love you, Y/n" Mark said.

You winced at his confession and turned your head to avoid his gaze and fixating yours on the wide sky ahead of you.

"You're high, Mark. Cut the crap" you said in a bitter tone.

"Do you think I'm lying? I mean it, Y/n. I fucking love you, for whatever reason I do. And I care about you, so come with me and let's get out of this shitty town. I’m running out of time too, they’ll soon find where I live" Mark defended himself.

You turned again to meet his eyes. "And go where, Mark? Where the fuck should we go, huh? I don't have anything else to do other than this shitty job. I only keep it because I need the money to survive and it's the only way to keep myself sane. The people I used to call family kicked me out of my house and this was the easiest solution I could come up with before I would collapse entirely and before it would become too difficult to get back on my own feet. So what else is left for me to do?" you were clearly getting angrier now, but not at Mark. At yourself.

Mark's eyes darkened in sadness. "That's what I'm saying! You deserve better than this! Look, we have enough money. I do deals, but I know this is a job I can't have forever. I told you, I’m on thin ice. If I’m seen doing deals again, I’ll go to jail. You know I play the guitar, right? I can join a band or something. I know a friend downtown, he might be of help" he said.

"And you," he continued, "you're a great bartender. You could make a career out of it" he said.

You shut your eyelids and shook your head in denial. "It won't work out. I'm a mess, you're a mess. We can't make this work. It's impossible" you said, turning your head away.

Mark sat up straight and put his hand below your chin to turn your attention towards him. "Look at me, Y/n. We can make it work. Believe me. Trust me. I can't leave you living like this. And I certainly can't live a life like this myself. You're the only person I can make a change with. I need you" he said.

You gulped and stared right into his eyes, unable to form a response. "So you just need me as a means to get you out of town and help you start your magical new life. No thanks, Mark, I'll pass" you said and shoved his hand away to release his grip on you.

Mark became frustrated and moved to stand right in front of you. The half of his jacket that was wrapped around your shoulders dropped and it hung behind his back.

"Okay, look Y/n, you're tired and you're high. We'll have this conversation again in the morning" Mark said defeated.

Your energy was running low despite the boost of energy you had just inhaled, so you let yourself loose. "Let's get you back to your room. You need some rest. Come on, I'll drop you off" Mark suggested and you gave in to him completely.

You took a step towards him and stumbled a bit. Mark, with his rapid reflexes, caught you firmly by the forearm and guided you to his car. The last thing you remembered was the faint sound of the car door closing, before you were engulfed into pretty sleep.

The next day you woke up to the sound of light guitar strumming from across the dim lit motel room. It was already past noon; the curtains were still drawn closed but the midday sun rays found their way in between the curtain folds and peaked through the dirty motel room windows to light up the inside of the place.

Mark was sitting on a wooden chair across the bed with a concentrated look on his face. With his jaw clenched and his cheekbones popping, he strum his fingers through the guitar strings, playing random chords in an attempt to create a melody he liked.

You shuffled between the bedsheets and stretched your body all over the old bed. A squeaky sound echoed in the room due to your sudden movement, which caught Mark’s attention. His strumming stopped abruptly and his head jolted up in surprise, his eyes opened wide and his lips dropped to a pout.

“Did I wake you up? Shit, I’m sorry” he whispered, trying to be as quiet as possible.

You rubbed your eyes to clear your vision and looked at him. “No, you didn’t. I like what you’re playing. Sounds pretty” you reassured him. “Good morning, Mark”

His previously guilty expression was taken over by a wide grin appearing on his face, which turned into a bright smile. “Good morning, pretty,” he said.

You smiled at him and he went back on strumming random chords on his guitar. His eyebrows scrunched in concentration and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his messy hair and wrinkly t-shirt due to the, apparently, good quality sleep he just had. Your obsessive thoughts took over once again and didn’t let you enjoy this glimpse of happiness in the abyss of misery you were engulfed in. Your lips gradually dropped to a frown and your vision became blurry again.

Mark wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. He came into your life at the perfect moment, when you needed him the most. It was your first day at the bar, your first time as a bartender. Renjun had been training you all day, teaching you the basic parts of the job and giving you tips on how to handle weird or creepy customers. You were completely drained out that day, so your co-worker and soon-to-be best friend had promised you a pleasant surprise by the end of your shift.

Renjun’s definition of a “pleasant surprise” was slightly different from yours. That night, Mark walked into the empty bar with steps full of confidence. You didn’t know him back then, but from the very first second you saw his figure enter your life, there was only one word that kept circulating your mind; trouble.

Mark was trouble. With his sharp gaze and well-defined features, captivating aura and assertive moves, it was more than obvious that this guy would mean nothing but trouble to you. For some inexplicable reason, this was exactly why you were instantly attracted to him.

Mark came in carrying all the usual stuff Renjun wanted and gave them over to him without talking much. The two guys seemed to share a lot of past memories together, and you were right. Renjun had filled you in later that night on his relationship with Mark and how they helped each other stand back up on their own feet after they were forced to leave home. A story very familiar to you.

Mark came by the bar every single night. He didn’t give Renjun drugs every time, but he sure enjoyed both your and Renjun’s company. It’s not as if he had anywhere else to go.

That’s how you grew quite fond of him very easily. You found yourself looking forward to the end of your shift just so you could see him. He once offered you drugs but immediately took back his offer when he saw your shocked expression. You were at the lowest point in your life and doing drugs wouldn’t be the wisest habit to take up, even though this was, at the same time, the exact reason why you should do drugs. Eventually, reality hit you and you caved in, waiting for Mark to come at the end of your shift for one more reason other than just seeing him. He was reluctant at first. Mark didn’t want to drag you into this lifestyle, so you annoyed him and begged for it until he finally gave you the lethal medicine.

You and Mark were surprisingly very similar. Maybe that’s why you bonded so fast with each other. And maybe that’s exactly why you were equally bad for each other. You could see so much of yourself in him, just at a more put-together version. Sure, he was a drug dealer, which was certainly not a better job than yours, but he at least seemed to have a purpose in his life. Unlike you.

As time passed, you started spending more and more time with him. You would smoke crack, get high, talk endlessly until your mouths dried up, go back to your motel room, have sex with each other, and repeat. You found comfort in his presence and became attached to him without even noticing.

But you didn’t love him. No, you couldn’t call this love. Rather, you were depending on him, no matter how much you hated that. He acted as an emotional support beacon to you, you enjoyed his company and, if you were honest, you genuinely liked him. But it was hard for you to admit to any deeper feelings, so you repeatedly tried to convince yourself that you didn’t love him, so that it wouldn’t hurt as much if he ever decided to switch on you. You hoped it wouldn’t turn out like that.

You lightly shook your head to get rid of all these thoughts and got out of bed to wash up a bit. “I’m starving, I’ll go down to the diner to grab some breakfast, do you want anything?” you asked Mark as you were heading towards the humid bathroom.

“Let’s go eat there. Together” Mark suggested and you stopped at your steps.

He always avoided going out in places that were too public because he was at risk of being outed as a dealer. Especially now that he was caught selling drugs once and the guy who saw him threatened to report Mark to the police.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re on thin ice, you said that yourself” you raised the tone of your voice and walked towards him. 

Mark put down his guitar to focus on you. “You worry too much Y/n, like, what are the odds? We’re in the middle of nowhere, I doubt anyone knows this place apart from us and the customers of your bar. I think we’ll be fine,” he cleared his throat, “I mean, I’ll be fine. Relax, I wanna spend some time with you.”

You decided against protesting and trusted Mark’s certainty of his words. Besides, he was right. The diner was out of town, it wasn’t very popular among people who weren’t familiar with the bar. Most customers at the diner were either drunk people from the bar or passersby. So you simply just nodded and whispered a soft “okay” before you went inside the bathroom, the door emitting a creaking sound as you closed it shut behind you.

The screeching sound of the fork scratching the surface of the porcelain plate turned your facial expression into a wince, which went completely unnoticed by Mark whose attention was entirely devoted to the pancakes in front of him.

The old diner was relatively empty despite it being lunch time. Other than you and Mark, there was only a group of friends and a guy sitting on a barstool. You were actually very satisfied with the quietness of the place, which was only disrupted by sounds of forks scraping plates and glasses thudding on the tables.

The diner was situated right down the same road your motel was at, so anytime your stomach growled in annoyance you would stop by and fulfill its needs. You were practically a regular customer now and probably the one who kept the place from going bankrupt. It was old, cheap and dirty; the perfect place for you.

Mark gulped down the last bite of his pancakes and thirstily drank the entire glass of water. He then set the glass down and leaned back on the booth, fixating his gaze on you.

You noticed his eager eyes on you and you set down your fork, mimicking his stance and staring right back at him, waiting for him to speak.

"That was a pretty good meal" Mark sighed and you smiled a bit. This wasn't what he wanted to say.

Since Mark seemed to be unwilling to speak his mind, you decided to take matters into your own hands instead.

"Why did you want to have lunch with me?" you asked him with your voice calm and your eyes searching for an answer in his.

Mark crossed his arms and scrunched up his nose before he answered your question. "’Cause I wanted to spend time with you. Actual time. You know, like normal people?" he said.

You rolled your eyes at his response and mimicked his body language once again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't buy it, Mark" you said.

Mark sat up straight and leaned closer to the table, resting his elbows on top of it. "Why are you always like this, Y/n? Whenever I tell you something, you never believe me! What's up with you?" Mark's frustration started building up in his attempt to defend himself.

"It's not that I don't believe you-"

"It's that you don't trust me" Mark interrupted you and you stood there with your mouth still open. You didn't know what to say.

Mark's gaze was piercing, his sharp eyes were darker than usual and his lips quivered at the blank stare you were giving him. "You don't trust me," he concluded.

The truth is that you weren't sure if you trusted him or not. You wanted to trust him and he had proved to you numerous times that he was someone who cared and didn't lie. Yet sometimes, you were afraid that if you trusted him too much, he would end up hurting you. So every time he said something you weren't expecting him to say, you immediately assumed that he was lying.

"Mark, listen to me," you started to say and Mark sat back against the booth, rolling his eyes. "I-I do trust you, it's just that-"

"What? You think I don't mean what I say? If I didn't meant what I fucking said then I wouldn't fucking say it! When I say I care about you, Y/n, I fucking mean it. When I say I fucking love y-"

"Don't get mad" you were the one that interrupted him now. Mark was clearly way too frustrated by you now, his voice was getting gradually louder, his eyes were full of fire and his nostrils were fuming.

At the sudden raise of Mark’s voice, the guy who was sitting at the barstool turned to look at your booth with a brief glance and then returned back to eating his food.

"Mark, just let it go, please" your voice came out almost like a whisper. You hated when Mark became angry at you and you hated it even more when he did it in public, even though it was practically just you and him in that diner.

Mark's jaw visibly relaxed and he lowered his eyes to his lap, nodding to himself. He lifted his head to look back at you with pleading eyes, much in contrast with his previous fiery gaze.

"Then why don't you come with me? Out of this fucking town? You deserve to live a better life than this. We deserve it. Look, I know I don't have an exact plan on how we'll do it, but I know that we can figure it out together. Please, Y/n" he said, taking your hand in his from across the table, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

You lowered your eyes at the spot your hands were joined together. Did you really love Mark? No, actually, did you really trust him enough to depend your entire life on him?

You couldn't give him an answer at that moment. Not a yes, not a no. Not even I don't know. Forget that, it would complicate things even more.

Mark noticed that you weren't going to give him an answer to his question soon, so he let go of your hand and started putting on his jacket. He reached into the inside pocket and took out some cash. He slammed it on the table and got up from the booth ready to leave.

"I have to go to work now, alright? I've arranged some deals. I'll come back later at the bar tonight. If you ever decide what you want to do with me, you know where to find me" he said and without even turning to look at him, you heard the sound of his footsteps grow fainter as he walked out the diner.

The bar was relatively full tonight. From behind the counter, you could spot only two empty tables. That was the fullest the bar has been in the last month. At the far back of the bar, you spotted Renjun already counting the tips he had earned and it was still midnight.

All the customers were busy chatting and enjoying their drinks. You found yourself craving some alcohol too, the need for an intoxicant substance was growing stronger and stronger, so you decided to mix just a little bit of something to treat yourself.

As you were filling in your glass, Renjun walked behind the counter and leaned close to your ear to speak, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to hear him through the loud chatting of the customers. “Man, I think we are in heaven, I lost count of my tips and I’m not even high yet” he said and you giggled at him.

He noticed the bottle of vodka you were holding and nudged you on your forearm. “Hey, pour me some of that too” he asked and your response was to grab a glass from the shelf behind the counter and fill it with the toxic liquid.

You had barely stopped filling in the glass when Renjun grabbed it and downed the liquid in an instant. He placed the glass on top of the counter with a thud and licked his lips, savoring the bitter taste. “What’s up with you and Mark?” Renjun asked you. You contemplated whether you should answer him or pretend you didn’t hear him just to buy you some time. A good couple of seconds passed so you just caved in and answered him.

“I don’t know. Go and ask him.” you said in a tone filled with nonchalance, sipping on your drink.

Renjun rested his elbows on the counter, his eyes scanning the place around him. “He said the exact same fucking thing when I asked him about you. You can’t be running in a vicious circle all the time. Just fuck it out, you’re both acting like little kids” he said and you sighed at his scolding tone.

Renjun wasn’t just your co-worker, he had also grown to become your best friend, a person you could talk to freely without fear of judgment because he always understood your intentions. Engulfed in your misery and loneliness, he was the person who helped you get back on your feet and have hope that things will somehow get slightly better. That sounds like something a friend would do.

You brought the glass to your lips to drink the last sip of vodka that was still inside, leaving it empty waiting to be filled with more of that toxic liquid. “You wanna know what, Renjun? Even though I hate the life I’ve made for myself, I enjoy having Mark in it. But I can’t do what he asks me to do. I can’t depend my entire life on him. I can count on him for some of it, yes, but starting anew with him? I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m not the kind of person you want to start a life with. I will fuck everything up. And he shouldn’t count on me as much as he does. It’s for the better. For both of us.”

Renjun kept staring at you, waiting for your little rant to be over so that he could take his turn to speak. He gulped and looked at your burnt out figure. Your eyeballs were turning a bit crimson due to the line of cocaine you snorted earlier, even though you promised you’d wait until Mark came later, and the lack of sleep provided you with dark hues under your eyes and skin as pale as the moon. 

“Look, Y/n,” Renjun started and came a bit closer to you so that he wouldn’t have to strain his vocal chords in order to be heard, “I see your point. And I understand exactly what you mean because I felt the same way when I came here. But in my case, I had nobody to lean on. I became an addict, left home and the rest of the story is familiar to you. But you and Mark have each other and, trust me, your future is looking way brighter than mine.”

You looked into his eyes searching for honesty. Renjun has always been honest with you and you never doubted any of his words. He really cared about you. Mark too, as it seemed. And he was right. Living in a cheap motel, starving and working long hours to barely make ends meet, depending on drugs and more specifically on an exceptionally lovely drug dealer wasn’t the life you imagined to have. But fate had different plans for you and now you ended up here, whatever this here is supposed to be.

Mark didn’t seem to be ill-intentioned. From the very first moment you met him, he was protective and caring, he had always treated you nice. He spoke to you softly and touched you in a just as smooth way. But the life he was living wasn’t that much better than yours; in fact, you could say it was even worse. He depended on you as much as you depended on him.

You didn’t know what was the thing that made you keep a sort of distance from him. Emotional distance. Part of it might be because you weren’t available to be fully devoted to him, because of fear that one day he would leave you, just like everyone else did. Part of it might be because the two of you weren’t so different and two broken souls mending together doesn’t necessarily make a fully healed one.

“I’ll talk to him when I’m ready. I could do it later but I’m afraid I’ll be too high to think rationally. Or maybe this will give me more insight, I don’t know, I’ve never thought of it. Do you think clearer when you’re high?” you asked Renjun but he was preoccupied, looking at the screen of his phone which radiated such brightness his eyes squinted as a reflex.

Scanning his features more carefully, you realized that the reason for his scrunched expression wasn’t lying solely on the brightness of the screen. You took half a step closer to him and Renjun tilted his phone away from you, hiding the screen from your eyesight.

“What’s wrong, Renjun?” you asked with worry lacing the tone of your voice. Renjun shook his head and put his phone away in his back pocket. “Mark won’t be coming by later. Something came up, I’m afraid we’re in trouble too. Listen, can you handle the bar for a couple hours by yourself? Mark needs some help” Renjun said, searching for his jacket underneath the counter.

Your eyes widened at Renjun’s words and you felt your heartbeat racing and your fingertips trembling. “Is Mark okay? Tell me, is he okay?” your rising voice quivered, betraying the nervousness you felt.

Renjun squeezed your shoulder and pressed his lips together in an attempt of a reassuring smile. “Yes, he is alright. He’s fine. He just needs some help with the cops. If you see anyone suspicious showing up, flash the stashes down the toilet, we don’t want them finding anything. I’ll be back soon.” 

With swift movements, Renjun turned his heel to walk out the bar in a hurry, muttering something under his breath that, due to your shocked and nervous state, you failed to hear, “How am I gonna save your ass this time, Mark?”

As soon as you heard the bell on top of the bar’s front door tinkle, you knew that Renjun was already outside and you were left alone in the bar. You were left standing frozen behind the counter, staring into nothingness. Your vision became blurry due to the tears that threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes, your hands curled into fists and your nails were digging deep into your palms, cold sweat forming at the sides of your forehead.

You were terrified. Mark was already caught selling drugs very recently, so your mind went to the worst case scenario which made you extremely terrified; that Mark was caught selling drugs by the police. 

You dreaded this moment at the exact same time your eyes met Mark’s sharp ones. You knew that, once you became thick as thieves with a drug dealer, you would be in for a lot of trouble. 

But you also knew how careful Mark was and this gave you hope that, whatever the case is right now, he would find a way to get himself out of there. Mark was a smart guy. You wanted to trust him, you wanted to believe that he would be smart enough not to get himself in trouble.

Yet something didn’t add up. Mark has been doing these types of deals for a long time now, he knew all the tricks of the job and he knew very well how to protect himself. So it sounded almost impossible that he would do something so reckless and irresponsible to get him caught. 

There was only one possible and logical answer to all of your questions. That somebody ratted him out.

Your train of thought was disrupted by the husky voice of a man. “Excuse me, miss, would you mind pouring me a drink?”

Your head snapped at the sudden sound of a voice other than the one inside your head. Your eyes met with a man sitting on a barstool at the other side of the counter, looking at you with wary eyes. Your gaze was roaming all over his figure when your eyes halted for a second as soon as they spotted something shiny at the right side of the man’s chest; a badge.

You cleared your throat to cover up the anxiety and fear that started to appear in your voice. “Officer! What can I get you?” you greeted him with bright eyes and a cheerful voice that masked your intense heartbeat and the trembling state of your hands behind the counter.

“Actually, I don’t want a drink,” he started and moved his hand inside his jacket to pull out a file with pictures and papers, “but I do want you to help me with something. Have you ever seen this guy?” he asked you, placing the file on the counter and turning it to your side.

You gulped at the sight in the front of you and your eyes quivered from side to side. A mugshot of the face you grew to almost love was staring back at you. Sharp gaze and popping cheekbones, defined jawline and dark eyes were presented in front of you and you knew more than well enough who the person in the picture was.

Your heart sank at the sight of Mark’s mugshot and you knew what you had to do. You drew in your eyebrows together and lifted the picture with your hand in order to bring it closer to your eyes and examine it better. “I don’t think I recognize this man, officer” you said.

You set the picture down on top of the counter and looked at the police officer, not trying to avoid eye contact. You wanted to seem as less guilty as possible.

The police officer took the picture and put it back inside the file. “Really? That’s a shame. But I’ve been informed that you do know this guy because you were seen with him this morning.”

You froze immediately. Your brain tried to put all the pieces of the puzzle together, you tried to digest and connect everything the cop just said in order to form your answer.

“Are you sure about this, officer? A lot of other girls look like me, maybe it was a mistake?” you asked with a rising intonation in an attempt to defend yourself by adding another lie to your previous one.

You tried to remember where you could be possibly seen with Mark, especially during the day. You always met with him at night and you avoided seeing each other in the morning. There was no way anyone saw you with Mark.

The moment you had this thought, the answer to your question suddenly popped up in your head as if a lit up light bulb. That morning, you and Mark had breakfast down at the diner. And you specifically remember that suspicious guy who kept staring at the two of you.

That’s when you knew you had to do something drastic to get you out of this situation, and you had to do it relatively fast.

The police officer didn’t seem to buy the lie you had just uttered and continued to pressure you more. “Is this where you keep all the drinks? Can I take a look inside your storage room?”

The rhythm of your heartbeat kept increasing more and more by each word the police officer said and you were running out of lies and excuses.

“Sure, it’s this way officer” you said with a nonchalant tone, gesturing towards the door behind the counter. 

The cop stood up and turned his heel to walk behind the counter and towards the storage room door. Your trembling hands had barely managed to hide the stashes you kept behind the cash register under your oversized shirt, and you followed the cop inside the storage room with uncertain steps.

The police officer could not find the rest of the stashes. It shouldn’t happen, and you had to act smart in order to prevent it. “Can I help you with something, officer? We can’t stay in here for too long, my co-worker finished early and we’re not allowed to leave the bar without having anyone to tend to the customers” you said in an attempt to speed up the process and get rid of him before he could find anything that could put you in jail.

“You can go back to your work, miss. This is my job here, you can go and do yours” the cop said as he had already taken a bottle of vodka in his hand to examine it for anything suspicious.

“Okay, I just wanted to help. Call me if you need anything,” your answer was convincing enough for him, but it wasn’t good enough for you to buy you more time.

You left the storage room and stood right outside the door, leaving it so open as to let you peek through it so that you were able to see what the police officer was doing.

With your still trembling fingers, you took out your phone from your pocket and dialed Renjun’s number with quick movements. Without taking your eyes away from the cop, you kept tapping your foot waiting for Renjun to pick up his phone.

The constant beeping sound in your ear signaled that Renjun wasn’t going to respond soon, so you put your phone back in your pocket and tried to think of what to do.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” you muttered under your breath, running your fingers through your hair. Your eyes were wavering from the police officer to the customers in the bar and then back to the police officer. You had to do something to get everyone out of there.

Your eyes followed the cop’s figure and certainly didn’t like what you were seeing. The cop squatted down so that he could reach the boxes under the shelves and stretched his arm to pull out one of them.

“No, no, no, fuck” you whispered. Those are the boxes in which you hid the drugs.

You turned your head to look at the inside of the bar. It was fully packed. There was not any chair or barstool that was empty and, just at that moment, the door opened to reveal a group of friends who wanted to get drunk and have fun just like the rest of the people inside the bar.

The only person who wasn’t having any fun right now was you. And obviously Mark and Renjun as well, who you had no idea about their whereabouts or their well-being. On any random night, all these people in the bar would equal a pretty satisfactory amount of tips that would make your life slightly easier to get by. However, you could definitely not say that for this particular night, when your main priority was your and your friends’ safety.

Shifting your gaze from the customers to the police officer and back to your phone for any missed calls or unread messages from either Renjun or Mark, you were completely on your own on this one. Cold sweat engulfed your entire body as the seconds passed and the cop was one step closer to finding the thing that could turn your entire life upside down.

You swallowed thickly and looked at your phone one last time. No sign of anybody.

“Okay, I got this” you muttered to yourself and walked behind the counter where you usually stood. A middle-aged woman was sitting on one of the barstools, smoking and sipping lightly from the cocktail you mixed for her earlier. You picked up the first bottle of alcohol you saw on the counter - you didn’t have the time to care what it was - and walked towards her.

“Excuse me, miss, would you like a refill?” you asked politely to gain her attention. Before she even opened her mouth to speak, your actions were faster than her words. You quickly snatched the cigarette from her hand and put it out on the counter, immediately pouring some alcohol right on that spot.

Soon enough, flames started building up and the counter caught on fire. The smell of smoke became suffocating and it was hard to breathe in such a small space full of people. Your plan worked.

Muttering a string of “sorrys” to the woman, you turned around to pull the fire alarm. Every customer turned their heads to the direction of the piercing sound full of worry. “Everyone must get out, the building is on fire!” you yelled as loudly as you could, motioning everyone out the door.

Very quickly, you managed to evacuate the building by leading all the panicked customers outside the bat through the front door. In the midst of all this chaos, you noticed with the corner of your eye the police officer you rushed out of the storage room without looking any scared at all. 

You ushered the last customers outside as the fire grew bigger, eventually leaving you and the cop as the only ones inside the flaming place. As he passed by you to get out the bar, he leaned closer to your face and whispered. "That was smart, young lady," he said and walked outside towards his car.

So he knew, you thought. He knew all along about the drug deals happening in this place and mainly the drug possession. He almost tricked you into thinking you tricked him. How amateurish of you.

You walked out the bar and shut the door behind you, watching the police officer drive away. A sigh of temporary relief escaped your lips and you pulled out your phone to dial a phone number you weren't particularly happy to call. Waiting for a few seconds, you heard the dreadful voice on the other line. "Hey boss, um, is it easy for you to come down to the bar? We kinda have a small problem" you said with a rapidly beating heart.

The time was already 3:16. You were pacing around your motel room, patiently waiting for any news about Mark. You had already called and texted him multiple times, but all of your efforts to reach him went in vain.

A few minutes after you called your boss, she arrived at the bar, totally shocked and deeply saddened upon seeing her not-so-small business all up in flames. You explained to her what happened, shaping the story so as not to sound guilty, and luckily she didn't blame you for anything.

After the firefighters arrived, your boss encouraged you to go home, saying that you already went through a lot for the night, so you needed to get some rest.

So now you were back to your motel room, unable to get some rest because you were still scared about yourself and your previous interaction with that police officer. But most importantly, you were anxious about Mark.

You were terrified for him. And your fear only increased because you couldn’t do anything to help him or save him. You realized that you depended on him twice as much as he depended on you and that made you feel useless in situations like this. Knowing that Renjun was - probably - with him eased your nerves a bit, but, at the same time, knowing that you didn’t do anything to help him made you feel selfish and hopeless.

Everything you did tonight was to save no one else but yourself. The entire night, you kept worrying about yourself and how you could avoid going to jail when during those very same moments in time you had no idea how Mark was or what he was going through.

Mark wasn’t the helpless one in this situation; it was you.

As you picked up your phone to call Renjun again, a loud thumping noise on the door startled you. Your body jolted up upon hearing the sudden sound and you walked nervously towards the door to look outside through the peephole.

Your eyes widened in shock and surprise at the sight of the face that was constantly on your mind. You didn’t waste any time opening the door and pulling the boy you were aching to see all night long inside the motel room, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

You rested your head in the crook of Mark’s neck and he reacted to your touch in an instant, stretching his arms to the small of your back to hug you as tightly as he physically could.

Tears fell from the corners of your eyes and you pulled back just as much as you needed in order to look into Mark’s exhausted eyes without breaking the embrace. “You can’t imagine how scared I was,” you whispered.

Mark stared deeply into your watery eyes. He moved his hands to cup both of your cheeks and nodded his head when he processed what you just said. “I know, I was terrified too. Renjun came to help me but we kinda fucked it up" he said with a stinging tone in his voice. 

“What happened?” you asked and Mark let go of you and walked towards the bed in the middle of the room, sitting on the edge of it. You copied his movements and sat down right next to him, turning your head to his side as you waited for him to fill you in on what you had missed.

“That bastard ratted me out. That asshole from the diner. I had a deal with some teenagers and he called the cops on me. I don’t even know how he tracked me down.” Mark confessed looking straight, his eyes full of void, focusing on nothing in particular. 

“Anyway, they took me to the police station and started questioning me about all this bullshit. There was no way I could excuse myself, they literally busted me, they saw me doing the deals. I texted Renjun and, I don’t know what he said to them but it didn't go well," he stopped to take a deep breath despite the desert that formed inside his mouth and the waterfalls that were forming in the corners of his eyes, "so we basically ran away and sooner or later the police will find me. I had nowhere else to go and I knew that your place would be relatively safe." Mark finished reciting you the events of the last few hours, tears staining his cheeks like the raindrops of a drizzle.

The dried tears that stained your cheeks became wet again when the new set of them fell down your face. You were staring at Mark through your teary gaze, trying to find any emotion in his void expression. He had never looked so soulless and it terrified you even more.

But the truth is that Mark himself was trying to mask his fear and anxiety by not showing them. The tears that traveled from his bambi eyes down to his popping cheekbones felt empty and the sight of him in such a state brought a stinging pain to your heart.

“So w-what does that mean?” your voice trembled at each word you uttered as you faced Mark with nothing but fear and another emotion that, at that moment, resembled love.

Mark made an attempt to wipe most of the tears off his face with the palms of his hands so that he could face you with clear vision. “It means I might go to jail. I will go to jail, unless I get out of here” he said. “Fuck, those bastards gave me an excuse to leave this fucking place” Mark scoffed as he sat up from the bed and started roaming around the narrow room, hands resting on his waist.

Your eyes trailed on every single one of his moves. You blinked several times to prevent any more tears from falling and cleared your throat to avoid your hoarse trembling voice. “So you’re really leaving” you said quietly, more to yourself than to Mark.

Mark turned around to look at you. “Yeah, I am. First thing in the morning. I don’t have many things to pack so it won’t take me long. And I can help you pack your things too, it will be quicker if-”

“Who said I’m coming with you?” you interrupted Mark and you immediately regretted doing so once you met his fuming gaze, which was now completely taken over by anger but was previously filled with nothing but emptiness.

“Y/n, we agreed to this. You’re coming with me and that’s it.” Mark growled as he took a step closer to you.

You stood up and started walking nervously around the place you called home, running your fingers through your hair in an attempt to ease your nerves. “We never agreed to anything. I told you I can’t-”

“Bullshit, that’s what you told me. Everything you said is bullshit. I want nothing but the best for you, we’ve been meaning to do this for such a long time and now that we have every reason to leave, you don’t want to! What’s wrong with you Y/n?” Mark clapped back at you.

A tear dropped down to your feet as you looked at Mark’s reddening face. Your lips trembled in your attempt to voice out your feelings, unfamiliar to your vulnerable state. “I’m scared, Mark,” you paused to sniff your nose, “I’m so fucking scared. For you, for me, for everything.”

Mark’s features softened at your sudden confession. He remained silent, gesturing to you to move on.

It was hard and unusual for you to open up to him like this. You hated the fact that he made you weak, that he had such a strong effect on you to make you eventually do as he says. But there was always this evil little voice in your head that told you not to trust him because, in the end, he would act just like everyone else and leave you.

“Do you know how scared I was tonight? I almost risked my fucking life for you! I had no idea where you were, I didn’t know what happened or why, and you know why? Because you never tell me anything! You only care about yourself,” all your fears and anxieties exploded and the outburst was so big you didn’t know how to stop. And you couldn’t stop even when you took a glimpse of Mark’s furrowed eyebrows and frowned lips, which you couldn’t tell if they were the result of sadness or anger.

You didn’t want to hurt him. But at this state, you couldn’t remain silent anymore. It wasn’t Mark’s fault, but you had reached a point where you couldn’t bottle up anything you felt anymore, so he just had to take everything you said.

You took a deep breath before you licked your dry lips to speak again in a calmer but still bitter tone. “If only you would disappear from my life I would-”

You never completed your sentence because Mark dashed towards you and grabbed you by the neck, squeezing the sides just so, so you could breathe a little bit, his face only a couple inches away from yours. “Shut the fuck up” Mark spat out with a growl which immediately kept you quiet.

His blackened eyes were piercing right through you, his fully black pupils bore into your wavering ones. You stood frozen there, completely locked in your place under Mark’s forceful hold on you, a position which made your lower stomach twitch.

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. Mark’s face was painted in crimson, his eyebrows fully drawn in together and his nostrils flaring out, as he tried to keep his breathing steady. His angry state scared you even more; not because he would hurt you, but because he could hurt himself. Behind the mask of the angry man he presented himself as, you were the only one who could see the sad little boy who wanted nothing else from you but to love and trust him.

With Mark’s hand still pressing on your neck, your voice barely came out when you tried to speak. “Mark please, say someth-”

Mark interrupted you once again by smashing his lips on yours with the same force he held you under him and the same desperation he hid behind his bloody gaze. You didn’t waste a second, responding in an instant to him, moving your lips to the pace and rhythm he settled. You slightly parted your lips to allow him access to deepen it even more, as he slid his tongue in your mouth to dance with yours.

His presence and strong grip was too much to endure, so you stretched your arms to grab his hair. Mark sensed your need for more support, so he lessened the pressure on your neck and moved his free arm to the small of your back.

The previously quiet room was filled with the lewd sounds of your lips and tongues and the soft grunts and whimpers that left your lips in between each violent connection between them. You hadn’t realized how much you needed Mark, how much you had missed his touch and his burning essence on you until this very moment. Your body reacted to him almost immediately, as you felt your blood flow from your heart down to your aching core.

The heated argument from earlier was now completely forgotten and transformed into a passionate battlefield between two broken souls. Mark's crack infused breath, the bitter taste of alcohol on his dry lips and the lust overtaking his brain and controlling his actions electrified your entire body. There was not a single part of you that didn't want Mark, that didn't desire him and you couldn't help but want more of him.

Your brain, too foggy from the bold emotions and the alcohol you had consumed earlier, couldn't work properly, so your primal instincts took over you entirely. You kept kissing Mark while biting on his lower lip, which resulted in low whines coming out of him, his hardening length growing more inside the pressure of his pants.

You could sense him struggling to keep his cool and you were trying to give yourself some friction too by rubbing your thighs together. You reached your hand down to Mark's pants, cupping his dick outside the thick fabric of his jeans, the teasing action causing him to roll back his eyes.

Mark stopped kissing you abruptly and without wasting any time, he threw you on the bed with all his strength, watching you with hungry eyes. You plopped down on the bed, the sheets creasing at the sudden force and you looked at him with a lustfull gaze that invited him in.

"Wanna fuck you so dumb right now" Mark growled lowly as he took off his shirt from the back of his neck in a swift motion and continued to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving your pleading ones.

You followed along, removing your own shirt and shorts, lying in bed only in your underwear. Mark had now discarded himself completely off of all his clothes except from his boxers, which had an undeniably visible precum stain on them.

Mark's body hovered above yours, connecting his lips with yours for a brief moment before he pulled back to attack your neck, biting and nipping on the spot right under your ear, which earned a loud gasp from you.

His lips kept on abusing your neck area, as you locked your fingers in his hair, tugging and pulling at it with every bite on your neck and chest. The hot sensation of his lips, tongue and wet saliva all over your body made you whimper under him, a sound that made his cock twitch inside his underwear.

Mark traveled lower down to your chest. He slipped his hand behind your back to undo your bra, removing the bra straps off your shoulders eagerly and tossing the piece of clothing somewhere in the dirty motel room. He was quick to attack your hard nipples, dropping his head to suck on one of them, and reaching the other one with his hand, twisting and rubbing it between his fingers.

Your moans and whimpers echoed in the room, the sound and smell of your bodily fluids polluted the small space, everything about the inside of the place being purely filthy.

The heat in your body kept rising and you could feel the stickiness in your panties. You wanted Mark, all of him. You wanted him to treat you however he wanted to, you wanted to please him by giving him all of you and you wanted to feel desired by him.

"Please Mark," you breathed in a soft moan, "please fuck me" your face reddened in your pathetic confession, but it didn't seem to stop Mark from ripping your panties apart, leaving your dripping cunt exposed to the dirty cold air of the room.

Your drowsy eyes and rapid breathing fueled Mark and all his inner needs, as he lifted his body off yours and parted your legs with his hands, pushing your thighs apart. You were breathing heavily in anticipation of his next move, which was a sharp slap to your pussy that sent a strong bolt of pleasure through your whole body. You moaned in pleasure and surprise and Mark repeated his action at the sound of your whiny moans.

"You're a pathetic little slut after all, aren't you?" Mark lowered his head and spat on your pussy, which had you clenching around nothing. "Look at you, begging to be fucked" he brushed one finger up and down your clit, just enough to tease you and elicit a sharp intake of breath from you. "You really pissed me off, you know?" he muttered.

"Please Mark, I want you. I need you so bad, please fuck me" you whined with a high-pitched voice, the one you knew that Mark could never resist, as you pouted your lips at him.

Mark rested his hands on your knees, holding your legs as far apart as possible, so as to have full access to your glistening cunt. His dark eyes were filled with nothing but hunger and lust, unable to control himself any longer from how bad he wanted to taste you. He lowered his head even further, brushing his lips over your clit.

"As you wish, princess" he mumbled to your wet core before he attacked your swollen bud, licking and sucking on your clit with absolutely no remorse.

A loud moan escaped from your lips at the abrupt touch of Mark's wet tongue on your pussy, your hands intertwining in his hair, grabbing and pulling at every licking stripe Mark left on you.

He kept on licking and sucking on your clit, mumbling sweet nothings and small praises, which reminded you more of the Mark you knew rather than the cold and hungry man that was presented in front of you a few minutes ago.

The lewd sounds of Mark's lips and tongue on your pussy mixed with your whiny moans turned him on to the fullest, as he pulled one of his hands away from your knee and dropped it down to slowly pump his dick underneath his underwear.

The burning desire rising up in his body was becoming too much for him, so he pulled away from your clit with one last sucking pop and took off his underwear, setting free his painfully hard length.

Mark positioned himself between your legs and with a swift motion, he turned you over to your stomach, pulling you by your hips so that your ass was higher up towards him.

"Need to fuck you so bad" Mark growled as he smacked your ass cheek with a sharp slap, your pussy clenching at the burning sensation.

"Please, Mark" you whined in the pillow, a tear rolling down your face and landing on the sheets as a response to the overstimulation taking over your body.

The way you kept whining his name and the juices almost dripping down your thighs had Mark gritting his teeth. He gave himself a few more light strokes as he positioned his dick right at your entrance. Without giving you any warning, he dived into your pussy with a sharp stroke.

You shut your eyes in pleasure and gripped the sheets tightly until your knuckles went white as Mark pounded into with sharp rhythmic strokes, each one pushing your head further into the pillow.

Your moans were coming out as crying mumbles as your face was buried deep in the sheets. Mark kept his pace and force, his head lolling back at the intensity of the moment. He kept his one hand on your hip in order to keep you steady while, with the other one, he reached down to grab a fistful of your hair, tugging at it and pulling it roughly, an action that triggered your hot tears to spill from your eyes at the pure sense of pleasure.

Mark's breathing was heavy and sharp at the sound of your soft growns and the sight of your ass jiggling at each stroke he left. "Is this what you wanted, pretty? Me fucking you so good you end up a crying fucking mess?" Mark provoked you in a voice as deep as the ocean, his groans low and hot like the pits of hell.

The sound of skin slapping on skin echoed inside the four walls of your motel room. Mark's hips connected with your ass in an intense force and a static speed, as he hit the spot that always brought you closer to the edge.

"I-I'm close, Mark, p-please" you whined as he gradually took you closer to your limits, your lower stomach twitching in pleasure and your jaw going slack as you felt your climax rising more and more.

"Let this pretty pussy cum on my dick, come on baby" Mark growled and with that, you let out a high-pitched groan into the pillow as your pussy clenched around Mark's dick, the forceful grip of your hands on the sheets was slowly loosened.

You felt Mark's strokes become sloppier as you coated his length with your warm fluids. He quickly pulled out and turned you over so your back was touching the soft mattress. He moved his body closer to you, pumping his dick slowly as he brought the tip to your lips, brushing softly against them as an invitation to take in his dripping cock.

"Open up for me, pretty" his fully blackened eyes bore into your teary ones. You slowly opened your mouth and Mark quickly pushed his cock into it, moving his hips as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking on his veiny length.

"That's right, baby. Such a good girl" Mark whimpered as he slowly released into your mouth, his hot cum dripping down your throat. You swallowed all of it completely before he pulled out and laid down on the bed next to you, both of your heavy panting echoing in the now quiet room.

Mark took a few seconds to ease his breathing and turned to the nightstand above his head to search for the pack of cigarettes you kept hidden in the small drawer. He took one cigarette out of the box and brought it to his lips. With the lighter you kept inside that very same drawer, he lit it up, smoke immediately coming out of it. The room now smelled like a mix of sex and smoke, and you winced at the odd yet satisfying combination. Mark took a long drag out of the cigarette and then puffed the smoke into the filthy air.

As soon as you caught your breath, you turned your body towards Mark's, looping your arm around his waist and resting your head on his chest. Mark responded to your intimate touch, wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, stroking your hair lightly. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and then brought the cigarette again to his lips.

After the long and terrifying day you had, you finally felt at ease. Your heart was beating normally, your breathing was steady and your mind was blank. All you could do was savor this moment with Mark, wrapped around his arms and listening to his beating heart, a sound that promised you that everything would be alright.

"Please don't leave me, Mark. I wouldn't know what to do without you" you whispered to him as you slowly drifted away to deep sleep. Mark didn't say anything back. He kissed your forehead again instead and inhaled deeply, exhaling in a long sigh, as his eyes were fixed outside the window, looking over at the bright city lights.

Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of chirping birds outside your window. From the way the room was illuminated and from the shadows that formed behind every object, you could tell that it was only a few minutes after sunrise, and the bright orange sun confirmed your speculation.

With your eyes still half-open, you stretched your arms above your head and groaned, a soft yawn leaving your pouty lips. You then shifted between the sheets, turning your body to the other side of the bed, moving your arms around in search of the drug dealer’s toned body, the one that hugged you tight to sleep.

“Good morning, Markie” you mumbled, still half asleep. You rested your head on the pillow, still patting the mattress when you couldn’t sense the male beside you. Your eyes widened in an instant and your body quickly adjusted to the awake state. You were focused on the other side of the bed, where the boy you spent the previous night with would be lying sound asleep. Instead, you were met with nothing but tangled bedsheets.

“Mark?” you called again, in hopes that maybe he was in the bathroom and he couldn’t hear you. No response.

You yanked the sheets off you and rushed to the bathroom, opening the squeaky door with more force than you intended. “Mark?” you called, but the calling was in vain.

Maybe he went down to the diner to get us breakfast, you thought. It was still very early in the morning, but the diner never closed during the night, so there might be some leftovers or, if you were lucky, some fresh food at this hour.

So you decided to wait for him, thinking that his whereabouts were probably the old diner. Since you were now fully awake, you decided to take a shower and change into some fresh clothes. It will only be a few minutes, Mark will probably be back by the time I’m finished, you thought.

So you hopped into the shower, letting the warm water fall down your tense shoulders in order to ease your nerves and help your body physically relax. Your mind brought up the memories of the previous night you spent with Mark. You thought about the cop that came to the bar, you thought about the fact that Mark was in serious danger, you thought about your argument with him and how you made up afterwards by having steamy sex, just like every other time.

You didn’t know how to label your relationship with Mark, or whatever you had with him. He was more than a friend but less than a lover. He protected you, cared for you, helped you with any troubles you had and was always there for you, whatever it took for him. And what did you do for him in return? Nothing.

You did absolutely nothing, at least nothing that could compare to what he did for you. And you hated yourself for not being able to pull him out of his misery, even for the slightest bit, when he could even go as far as to move mountains just to see you crack a smile.

You didn’t deserve him; yet you were too selfish to let him go. He was a soul that wanted to fly and be free, but his wings were weighed down by your annoying fears and anxieties for the unknown.

The water dripping down your body suddenly turned cold and you immediately turned off the faucet and ran out of the shower, wiping your body dry with a towel. There was still no sight of Mark, so you quickly put on some fresh clothes and searched throughout the room in order to find your phone and call him.

Your eyes scanned every corner of the room where you could have possibly left your phone, when your gaze dropped to the wooden chair across the bed, the one where Mark usually sat when he played the guitar, only to find a folded piece of paper.

You stepped closer to the chair, picking up the piece of paper and turning it around. With shaky hands, you slowly unfolded it and a shiny bright red guitar pick fell on the floor. You picked it up, bringing it closer to your eye only to recognize it as one of Mark’s favorite ones.

You held the pick between your fingers and sat down at the wooden chair, looking at the wrinkly piece of paper. Written with a dark pencil, you recognized the sloppy handwriting and the small neat letters as none other than Mark’s and you couldn't help but feel your eyes sting in threatening tears as you slowly read and processed each heartfelt word he wrote:

Dear Y/n,

You’re probably reading this because you can’t see me in your room. But don’t bother look, because I have already left for a better, safer life and I won’t be coming back.

So here’s everything I couldn’t bring myself to say last night.

I love you deeply, Y/n. And I know your feelings towards me differ from my feelings towards you, but I’m not scared to hide it. You’re afraid of the power your heart holds and I understand that. For that, I will give you time, as much as you need to learn how to use this power.

I don’t know if I am a strong man or a coward for leaving; that I’m not sure of. But what I’m sure of is my life, and right now my life is in danger. I always spoke to you about how I wanted to have a normal life, to escape from this hell hole and build a different path for me.

Most importantly, I wanted to build this path with you. You’re the only thing that made this hell hole bearable, the only thing that gave me purpose, the thing that made my life have a meaning.

But I took some time to think and I realized that I can’t force you to follow the same path as me, no matter how much I need you or how much I want only what’s best for you.

So I left. I left to build this new path and I will try as hard as I can. I don’t care if I fail, because I know I can keep on trying and, no matter where you are, just the thought of you gives me strength.

I’m leaving you a piece of me behind though. My favorite guitar pick. I want you to have it. You can keep it, burn it, destroy it, I don’t care what you’ll do with it. I just want you to have something to remember me, something that means to me as much as you do.

So, for the meantime, mark me in your heart like I have marked you in mine, and think about what makes you truly happy. If you ever change your mind, you already know where to find me.

Your beloved,

M.

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @matchahyuck @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @uwuheeseungie @markleefuckme @kittydollzz @kkaye02 @dear-97 @mrkluvv @meloncremesoda @stargrll13 @koyrx @nuttie-nv-blog @markspetal @assholemimi @budibbly @chardonnayyyy

join my taglist here !!

#kflixnet #k-labels #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct mark #mark lee #mark x reader #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct fic #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct timestamps #nct angst #mark lee angst #nct dream #nct 127

[genericpuff]

This is stupid, but you know those new LO hoodies the Webtoon shop has? I know the font they're using. It's Eckmannpsych which is an Adobe font.

That's not the stupid part though. The dumb part is the capital H and G in the Eckmannpsych font do not match what is on the hoodies, which would obviously be on the hoodies that have Hera or Goddess on them. So, Rachel looks to have taken the time to hand draw her own H and G to match the font style for those hoodies but did not take any time to make new, better art for the merch, but instead reused ugly panels from the comic. Talk about a strange look into her priorities. She doesn't like how the G and H look on a font? She will remake those to fit what she wants. Rachel when the assignment gives her the chance to make specialized, better designs for those same merch? She can't be bothered to even try. WTF!

for the love of god-

I'm assuming and hoping they had the commercial rights to that font LMAOO But it did kind of make me go 🤨 because while I didn't know the font EXACTLY off the top of my head it still felt... weirdly out of place for something like LO? Why are these hoodies being stylized like they're from Austin Powers LOL

On another note tho, the LO merch is just like... disappointing in how bad it is for what's supposed to be WT's #1 series, which is, btw, a series with so much unique stylization that it shouldn't even be this hard to make merch for it! it just feels very "first attempt at redbubble merch", but unlike genuine first attempts at making merch (which is obviously a learning curve that I wouldn't judge anyone for being new to) this is a company that's sunk shitloads of money into LO so I don't know why they can't get better merch made?? so much of it is just the default drawings taken and slapped onto a tote bag or t-shirt, which like, yeah cool fine you're using art that's recognizable and considering the art is already made, it stands to reason that they should use it for more than just the comic. It's just disappointing to see how lazy it often is and how little effort is put into translating it onto a t-shirt/tote bag/etc. like we can't even have ONE exclusive t-shirt with a unique design that isn't just poorly copy pasted from the comic?

Case in point, those t-shirts that Rachel was advertising a while ago that were actually straight up falsely advertised. I can't find the post about it on my Tumblr (I'm pretty sure I talked about it here) so here's the IG story rundown I did on it ages ago:

Again I'd really like to have benefit of the doubt here that Rachel isn't the one making these designs, usually that's not how the merchandising process goes in these types of deals, so I'm not gonna point the finger at her. But it's just so odd to me that it happened in the first place. And this goes for a lot of LO's merch, so much of it feels cheaply made and rushed off a conveyor belt for the point of making money without much expense. Which yeah, that's a business model for sure, the goal is to profit, but like this?

You can't even argue that it's like people criticizing LO the comic because like, as much as I'll justify what I spend my time doing here in my free time, it's true that at the end of the day I don't have to pay for LO, so really the only thing I'm doing is inflicting psychic damage to myself, it's not like my actual money is on the line LMAO That's why I stopped paying for LO ages ago and only do it when I have a specific episode I need to review (such as the midseason hiatus review series I did). At the very least, if I really want to keep reading LO but don't want to pay for it, I can just avoid FastPassing it and read it for free so I can save the coins for other series I'd rather read. The Webtoons' FP system is very fair that way.

But this is merch explicitly made to generate revenue. It is a product, front to back. You can vote with your money by not buying the thing you don't like, absolutely, but the fact that it's this poorly to begin with is just so indicative of Webtoons' business practices and so shitty for the people who genuinely enjoy this comic and are being advertised and sold shoddy merchandise that doesn't even come looking the same way it's advertised. It's really not a good look for Webtoons, Rachel, or LO that this is what they're selling to people.

Especially for what they're charging, good lord-

Like, okay, they're hoodies and they're gonna be expensive to print and ship so the higher overhead cost makes sense, but jesus christ, with the kind of merch Webtoons has already given the stamp of approval on, would it even show up in decent condition? How bright are those colors gonna be? Are they gonna strip off as soon as I throw it in the wash? I'm half-tempted to buy a hoodie for myself just to do a review on it but I can't justify dropping $75 CAD on a hoodie that only has art on the back. Maybe it's just me living in the hellish lands of Canada where we play with toy money that's the problem, but it's just not a gamble I wanna take LOL If I bought one it would probably be the Hecate or Hermes ones because they're the only ones that are at least somewhat legible and have decent character art that isn't a character looking like they need to poop LMAO

(these are literally the two worst drawings they could have chosen of these two i stg lol the only thing that would have made this worse/funnier is if it was Handsome Hades and Persephone Kidnapping a Baby LMAO)

It has me worried about what the LO figures are gonna look like when they release. Are they gonna have some creative liberty with making them chibi-fied (like a Nendoroid?) or are they gonna try and replicate the art style exactly and wind up making literal blow-up sex doll Persephone? 😭

NGL, if the figures are done well enough and don't cost an arm and a leg, I might consider buying one just for the shelf collection, but again, it depends. If Webtoons released a tarot deck with really good panels from LO (like the Tower 4 scene or Persephone sitting on the rooftop with her comb or Eros flying down into the Mortal Realm) I would buy the shit out of that. I would even just take the Major Arcana if 78 cards was too much to ask :'0 I'm not against Webtoons/Rachel trying to profit off LO merch at all, I just wish it was BETTER- (╥﹏╥)

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything

[shhh-secret-time]

Star Park AU: Stan Marsh Edition

-> Lives on Tegridy Farms with his family. His dad sold their house and moved them out to the valley when Stan was ten. (They're essentially where Marnie is in game.)

-> Sparky is still alive but he's getting older, so he sticks to laying on the porch waiting for Stan to get back

-> Plays football with Clyde, Craig, and Tolkien! Kenny and Cartman will join in sometimes and he practically drags Kyle out to join them.

-> He works for Joja Mart with his sister. They'd both rather work there than be near their dad.

》 He's saving up to move back to the city, or so he says. Truth be told he can't leave behind Sparky or his Mom.

-> He bought his own chicken coop and has a few chickens of his own.

-> He goes to the saloon every night, most nights by himself

-> But on Fridays, after Jimmy's comedy act, him and his band will play!

-> On Sundays when everyone else is in church or doing their own thing. Stan and Kyle will go up to the summit past the railroad tracks and spend hours up there. Catching up and just unwinding.

-> He probably has a mini event that's kind of like Sam's 2 heart event, where he asks the Farmer what type of music they like.

Gift Guide:

Loves: Pizza, Survival Burger, Book of Mysteries, Frozen Tears, Beer (This changes after Heart Event 6)

Likes: Joja Cola, Apples, All Eggs, Void Esscene, Large Milk

Neutral: All Fruit (Except Apples), Coffee, Peppers

Dislikes: Fertilizer, Daffodil, Any Fish, Pink Cake

Hates: Rabbit Foot, Coleslaw, Clay, Beer (After Heart Event 6)

Loved: "Dude! Are you sure?! Man this rules!"

Liked: "Oh, uh thanks! Should I get you something back?"

Neutral: "Cool, I'll find a use for it."

Disliked: "What...is this? Why?"

Hated: "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Given any alcohol after Heart Event 6: "Why would you give me this?! You know I'm trying to stop!"

Heart Event @ 2:

Stan is throwing empty beer bottles at the passing train, they shatter just as the Farmer approaches him. He looks back at them with a grin offering one for them to throw. He mentions that he was drinking with his friend Kenny but he had to go, so now he's just passing time. He's not quite drunk yet but he's tipsy. When the Farmer takes the bottle and throws it he relaxes a little, says that he's glad they're not put off by the behavior. After a little bit of silence, he asks them why they moved to the Valley. There's not a lot of money in farming and then makes a comment about how he fucking hates it. How he feels isolated from the rest of the town sometimes.

-> Feels that way sometimes doesn't it? But at least you have your friends (+)

-> You're literally closer to town than I am, don't your friends come to visit you? (-)

If First Option: He mulls it over and decides you're right. He should he grateful he at least has them. Though lately it feels like they're drifting apart. Stan comments how you must feel lonely being new to town and all.

"Oh well. I guess we can be lonely losers together. Farmer buddies and all that."

If Second Option: Stan doesn't really appreciate the sass. He wasn't looking for a pity party, just wanted to kinda vent. He makes note not to talk about it again.

"Yeah sure. I guess, but you didn't have to be a dick about it."

Heart Event @ 4:

Stan and his friends are playing pool at the tavern, a rare instance where they're all off work and finally get to hang out. He leans over the pool table and sinks another ball, much to Kyle's annoyance. As the Farmer comes in Cartman makes a comment that Kyle is getting his ass kicked and bad. It prompts Kyle to snap at him and shake the pool cue at him. Kenny and Stan laugh a little before Stan realizes you're there. He smiles and gestures for you to come over! Now that you're here they have enough for teams. Farmer is confused because there's already four of them, they make five. Stan whispers in their ear, explaining that Cartman won't play with Kyle anymore. He lost one time and now he's convinced that Kyle cheated. Something about how there's no way Kyle would ever actually win a game fair and square. When you agree he gets excited and before anyone else gets the chance he announces that you'll be on his team!

"Awesome! We're gonna smoke these guys! Kenny wrack 'em! Farmer is with me!"

⚠️ TW: Attempted suicide ahead ⚠️

Heart Event @ 6:

Stan's drinking again. Right next to the railroad tracks but this time he's got one foot on the railroad, rocking back and forth. There's glass bottles around him, unbroken and too many to count. He almost stumbles down to the ground but he keeps himself up. Farmer approaches and that's when they hear the sound of the train coming in, and it's coming fast. Stan had no intentions on moving, in fact he looks like he's about to fall forward willingly. The dead look in his eyes tells them that much. Farmer runs across the field and tackles him into the ground, the train narrowly missing the both of them. Stan lays there having just had the wind knocked out of him. His head is spinning and he feels sick, but he also feels the Farmer on his chest and his back against the ground. He's not dead. Then it hits him, you almost died to save him. You who's kept talking to him despite everything, even when he was being an ass.

"You....you could have gotten yourself killed why would you do that?"

-> I couldn't just stand there and watch you die Stan!

-> Are you crazy?! You almost got us both killed!

-> I don't know...my legs just moved on their own.

-> (Just hug him)

If First Option: Stan starts crying and presses his palms into his eyes. He lays there and sobs, but he feels safe enough to do it.

"Hey Farmer...hic...can you help me to Kyle. I'm scared."

If Second Option: He grits his teeth and digs his hand into the dirt. Stan knows what he did was crazy, he can't be mad at you for snapping like that. You just saved his life. But he didn't ask you to.

"Fuck...I know. Look, just help me get to Kyle. I think I'm gonna be sick."

If Third Option: Stan doesn't know what to say but he thinks he gets it. He just closes his eyes and tries to stop the dizzy ride his drunken state is on. He doesn't want to move but he can't just lay here all day.

"Do you think Kyle is gonna yell at me...if I show up looking like this? Maybe if I just go to sleep I won't have to think about it."

If Fourth Option: Stan freezes he wasn't expecting the Farmer to do that. They should be angry with him, furious. But they're hugging him and clinging to him for dear life. His life. Stan wraps his arms around them and starts to cry. It's the most vulnerable he's been with anyone in a long time.

"Shit...fuck dude...just please don't let me go. I don't wanna go. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Heart Event @ 8:

It's early morning when the Farmer steps out, they're greeted with the sound of music. Stan is sitting on their porch playing his old guitar, the acoustic one that's seen better days. When the Farmer gets closer he looks up at them for a moment, unable to look them in the eye for too long. After a moment of silence, he tells them that Kyle got it out of storage for him. Says it'll help him focus on something other than the withdrawals and that Kyle put him in contact with a therapist. He thanks the Farmer for saving his life, and apologizes that they had to see that. As he plays a somber tune again he makes a comment, this is the first time he's been on their farm. First time he's been out this way since they moved into the valley. He confesses that your farm is a lot nicer than his dad's and that maybe farming isn't so bad. Farmer sits beside him and he quietly continues playing, they've never heard him play this song before.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry I've been a jerk to you. You and Kyle shouldn't have to take care of me, but you did. You care and I should remember that. Sparky would have been really upset if I never came home. So thanks...for everything."

When given the bouquet:

"!! I don't understand why you'd choose me, but...I'm selfish and I want you all to myself. So I accept!"

Heart Event @ 10:

Stan is leading Farmer past the railroad tracks, he doesn't even seem bothered much anymore to be here. He leads them up the path that he's taken a thousand times. There he leads them to the summit, his favorite spot to be at. They sit together at the edge if the cliff with their legs dangling off the side. He admits to them that he liked coming up here a lot as a kid, when his dad and him would fight it was his little hiding spot. Then he brought Kyle and it became special. The days where he'd get stupid drunk he'd think about just falling forward like that day with the train. But it's because of those amazing memories with his best friend, he could never bring himself to do it. They're special and he wouldn't want to ruin them for Kyle. It's things like that, that remind him why he's alive. Things like you. He smiles at the Farmer and tells you this. Tells Farmer he wants to continue to make more memories with them so he has a reason. His hand inches closer to theirs, not quite touching. Before he can pull away, Farmer takes his hand and slides closer to him. They rest their head on his shoulder and look up towards the big illuminated moon that's in front of them. Stan wraps his arm around them and lays his cheek on top of their head.

"Every moment with you reminds me why I'm here. I'm not...perfect and I don't think I'll ever understand why you choose to stick around. But I meant what I said, I want you around me always. I can breath with you around."

Heart Event @ 14:

Stan's outside playing with Sparky and Farmer's pet, when he moved in he brought his beloved dog with him. Sparky seems to be getting better every day he's here and Stan couldn't be happier. Farmer walks up with hearts in their eyes, making him a little bashful. He rubs the back of his neck just as Sparky brings the ball back. He mentions that he really loved animals, and that he's always had a soft spot for them. Farmer questions him about his love for Survival Burgers, which he quickly points out that they're made of Cave Carrot NOT beef! After a little while of playing with the pets he sits in the field with them, looking over their hardwork. Stan turns red and starts ranting about how the last time he went to visit his dad, he started nagging him about grandkids. He's embarrassed because Randy has never mentioned it before and it makes him uncomfortable.

"He's such an ass! You'd think he'd stop trying to tell me how to live my life after I moved out. Why doesn't he bother Shelly with this?!"

-> He probably does. We don't have to have kids if you don't want them! I'm just happy you're here with me! Don't let him get to you!

-> Don't let your dad pressure you into anything you're not ready for. It's our relationship and we'll decide when and if we want kids. But if you're anything like you are with Sparky towards kids, I think you'd be a great dad!

If First Option: Stan grins and tells them they're right as always. He leans down and kisses the top of their head. Sparky walks over with the Farmer's pet and lays in their lap. Stan smirks and makes a comment about how they could just get another dog.

"Our farm is big enough for another one right? We could get one or two more puppies. They could help with the sheep and chickens! Help dig holes!"

If Second Option: Stan says he'll think on it. Later that night while Farmer is cleaning up the dishes and putting them away. Stan walks up behind them and wraps his arms around them. He murmurs in their ear that he's been doing nothing but thinking about what they said. The thought of starting a family with them is starting to sound appealing, plus it could be fun raising a mini them. He presses a kiss into their temple.

"You really think I'll make a good dad? I just don't wanna end up like mine...but if you're with me I think I could do it. And if they're anything like you, they'll be an amazing kid."

Random Marriage Quotes!!

"You looked really adorable asleep last night...you also drooled on my arm."

"Having a bad thought day...I might be a little off today. I'm sorry."

"Babe, you got dirt on your face. C'mere, let me clean it. Just let me take care of you butthead!"

"Sparky and I watered the crops today! How do you know how much to give them? I feel like I'm drowning them."

"Fed the animals! They're doing great! Would...you judge me if I took a nap out in the field with them?"

"Hey...real quick...I uh- I love you. I know I don't say it enough and I'm sorry, but I really do."

"Morning. Made you some pancakes! I stole the recipe from my mom! Why do you look scared?"

"Hey babe, I'm going to visit my parents today. Please feel free to come save me when you're done doing what you need to do."

"Are you coming to the tavern tonight? We're playing a new song tonight, I wrote it for you."

"You know, when I was a kid, when I got nervous, I'd throw up. You make me nervous sometimes but I- hey! I'm not going to puke on you, I'm not twelve. Get back here!"

Tag List: @hunnysnoops

#south park #sp fanfiction #south park fanfiction #reader insert #south park x reader #x reader #Stan Marsh #Stan Marsh x reader #Stan Marsh x Farmer #Stardew Valley #Star Park AU #headcanons #drabbles #shhh its a secret

[zodiactalks]

How HIGH MAINTENANCE Are the Zodiac Girlfriends

Dating a high-maintenance woman can be rather annoying. It takes her hours to be ready and she isn’t willing to go just about anywhere, she’s very picky about the way she spends her time.

However, they are also incredibly beautiful and have impeccable taste. If you’re willing to put up with a high-maintenance woman, you’re agreeing to pay a price to be able to date a woman who’s sure of herself and knows what she wants and needs.

It’s all down to preference, some people prefer to date down-to-earth women, and some are willing to keep up the pace of a more high-maintenance one. Her Zodiac sign can tell you all you need to know about her tendencies. Ask her when her birthday is and you’ll know all you need to know.

Aries

Aries women have a thirst for adventure and they want to be quick. They don’t want a ten-step beauty routine that will keep them from a spontaneous getaway or that it will take them half an hour, when they could be out the door in five minutes.

They are all about efficiency and being fast over looking the greatest, and they won’t miss out on an adventure because they are picky. They still have a couple of things they can be particular about, but they are overall easy-going and down-to-earth.

Level 3/10

Taurus

Taurus women love luxury. They like the very best they can afford, and they are often very smart with money. They are usually able to afford really nice things, at least in the areas that matter to them.

They will take their time applying their expensive makeup and skincare – if they won’t enjoy it, then what’s the point of spending so much money on it? They also like the very best food and places. They are among the most high-maintenance and they are not ashamed of it.

Level 8/10

Gemini

Gemini women are always up for an adventure. They are very open-minded and they usually don’t care about how they look. They are always up for trying an off-the-wall restaurant: the thought of being the first to try out the next best thing is very alluring to them.

They do have a sense of style that does take quite some time and that they won’t compromise. It takes them hours to look for inspiration, thrift in vintage stores and then style their clothes.

If you put some extra effort in your dates, regardless of how cool the places are, she’ll appreciate it. It’s not the same to take her to a cool underground bar that not a lot of people know about than to take her to the hospital café as an afterthought. Overall, though, she’s pretty chill.

Level 5/10

Cancer

Cancer women have a couple of beauty routines they will try to stick to no matter what, and they will always prefer to eat at home than trying out a strange restaurant. Besides that, they are pretty chill about how they look, and pretty forgiving about having a bad experience while going out.

If you get to know the things that are not up for negotiation, she will be pretty calm about the rest, and won’t mind trying out new things or taking less time to get ready if it truly means a lot to you.

Level 4/10

Leo

Leo women like to be the most beautiful woman in the room. They are very much aware that this takes time and effort, and they don’t mind putting it. If you can’t handle the two-hour wait, then it’s your loss.

They have enough self-confidence not to be ashamed by how high-maintenance they are, and this makes them magnetic and powerful. Don’t dream of taking her to an uncool or poor-quality place, either, it’ll be the last time you see her.

They are high-maintenance, they know it, and they use it to their advantage. They know all eyes are on them and they are not ashamed to shine.

Level 10/10

Virgo

Virgo women don’t get enough credit for how adaptable they are. They know their routines inside and out, which allows them to make small changes here and there so they can go alongside your plans. Change upsets her, but she can handle it like a pro nevertheless.

She is way more picky about where she goes out, but she gets a lot of points for being able to adapt her beauty routine to any circumstance and manage to look beautiful in record time.

Level 4/10

Libra

Libra women have great taste, and why wouldn’t they apply it to themselves? They always make sure their outfit looks like they’ve walked out straight from the runway, and their makeup, hair and skin always look flawless.

They also have a reputation to keep and they wouldn’t be caught dead at a place that isn’t nice and fashionable. She is high-maintenance for sure, but her beauty and her social intelligence make up for it in spades.

Level 10/10

Scorpio

Scorpio women are overall flexible. They know which steps of their beauty routine they are not willing to compromise on and what standards they must absolutely keep when choosing where to go out.

But they also know the extent they are willing to negotiate to keep their partner happy. They understand they can’t always get their way, so they are very strategic about it and they know when it is absolutely important to be high-maintenance.

Level 6/10

Sagittarius

Sagittarius women will always prioritize experiences and comfort over looking good or having a bad experience while going out. Their sense of adventure knows no bounds and they will always prioritize the thrill of the moment over everything else.

It honestly doesn’t get more low-maintenance than this, the real question is, can you keep up with her?

Level 1/10

Capricorn

Capricorn women are among the least high-maintenance. Don’t get us wrong: they definitely do like to have money and they like to spend it on great quality things and experiences.

However, they are usually not very fussy about their appearance and they are fairly open-minded about where they go for dinner. They’d rather go out and live their lives whenever they have some free time from work than getting overdressed or spending twenty minutes picking out a place to have dinner.

Level 2/10

Aquarius

An Aquarius woman creates the illusion that she isn’t high-maintenance or picky at all. According to her, her beauty routine only has the bare minimum steps and she’s not picky at all.

But she does like to have a unique appearance and style, and, ironically, it ends up taking her a long time to keep up with this unique, edgy style. She also has a unique taste when it comes to going out.

She won’t be caught dead at the popular joint, and would rather hang out exclusively at off-the-wall bars and other bohemian places. In short, she’s pretty high-maintenance indeed, but she will never admit it.

Level 7/10

Pisces

Pisces women like a few luxuries in her life. They are very generous and they don’t mind sharing what they have, but they do like the good things in life if they can have them.

They also turn to pampering or splurging as a way to soothe their emotions – after a hard day at work, she might turn to a decadent bubble bath or an online shopping spree. Even though she’ll make an effort for you if it really means a lot to you, she isn’t much of an adventurous eater, either.

Level 8/10

Do you agree with our list?

Would you rank Aries women higher or Leo women lower?

Was your own sign accurate?

Do you prefer to date a high-maintenance woman or do you prefer someone who’s more down-to-earth?

Tell us in the comments!

#Zodiac #Zodiac Signs #ZodiacFacts #astrology #astrology signs #Aquarius #Aries #Cancer #Capricorn #leo #libra #Sagittarius #Pisces #taurus #scorpio #Gemini #virgo

[isagisbabygorl]

pov: he’s your bodyguard <3 (suggestive!)

“i don’t need a bodyguard.” 

i cross my arms over my chest as my dad sighs. why is my family paying so much money for a bodyguard? especially a bodyguard from the well-known and strong gojo clan. 

“are you guys affiliated with the yakuza or something?”

“no it’s not that.” my dad sighs again at my question. “it’s just for your own safety, okay?”

“i can barely go out on my own. i’m 25, may i have to remind you.” 

my dad begins to get irritated and dismisses what i said. “this is satoru gojo.”

i look at the man. first impression: he’s hot. he’s tall and handsome. white hair, cerulean blue eyes, has a muscular build. the facial expression he’s wearing looks like a mixture of cool, serious, bored, and tired. 

 “hi gojo, i’m (name),” i reply. he says nothing in return, but just gives me a small smirk. 

“thank you gojo for watching over our daughter,” my father says, finally showing a smile. 

“it’s no problem,” gojo replies. 

“you can go home,” i tell the white-haired man. 

“(name)! for goodness sake, can you stop being such a damn brat?!”

“i never asked for a bodyguard.”

“and i never asked for a daughter.”

my mouth drops in shock. “was i a mistake or something then?”

my dad realizes what he just says and pinches his nose. yeah, i hope you get a ragingly painful headache for that. i glance over at gojo who’s just standing there with that same rather cool smirk. 

“maybe use condoms next time?”

all it takes is one step from my dad and gojo is in between us. talk about fast reflexes… 

“yeah, i don’t need a bodyguard.”

“i don’t care what you think! he’s staying and that’s final,” my dad snaps. 

“whatever.” pissed off at everything, i walk out of the house. of course, gojo is following me behind. i can sense stares from people but i could care less. i mean it’s not everyday you see a 6’4 muscular man following around a small girl like a guard dog. 

“you can go home,” i tell him for a second time. 

“uh, no. sorry, but that’s not my job. my job is to protect you and keep an eye on you, remember?”

“i’ll be okay. i’m sure you’re tired.” i take note of dark circles growing underneath his bright blue eyes. 

“tired or not, i have a responsibility in my hands. and that responsibility is you.” 

i stop in my tracks. this causes him to stop, too. i take this moment to turn around and look up at him. “how old are you?”

i can tell the question catches him off guard. “i’m 28. why?”

“just wondering.”

i turn back around and continue walking. an orange glow from the sunset casts itself over the city. it’s beautiful and manages to calm me down a bit. 

“where are we going?” gojo asks. 

“to a hotel.”

“... why?”

“i wanna get away from everyone.”

eventually, i find a grand hotel and step inside the lobby, getting a room. i only get one room with one bed. i don’t expect gojo to come inside with me and hope that by having to stay outside the door, he’ll get bored and go home. maybe. am i being cruel? i just want to be alone right now and have privacy. 

even the elevator ride to the room is quiet. but soon enough, i find my room and unlock the door with the card, stepping inside. “you can go home, gojo,” i say for the third time. 

before i can close the door, he stops it. he puts his hand on the door as he looms in front of the doorway. he’s so tall that his head is practically touching the frame. 

“did you not hear me the first time?”

“i was listening when you talked about me being your responsibility and all, but-” i tried to close the door but it wasn’t budging. gojo’s palm pressed firmly above my head on the door prevented it from moving even an inch. 

“uh huh.”

gosh, this angle is bad. i hate the way he’s looking down at me and the way his arms flex whenever i try to close the door further. i wanna trace the dips of his muscles with my-

“distracted?”

i snap out of my thoughts and see him smirking. that might just end me. actually… am i ovulating?

“no,” i lie. he sees right through it. crap. 

gojo takes advantage of my state and lets himself in, closing the door and locking it. i take a few steps back to give him space between my body and his but he’s quick to close it, leaning down to match eye level. 

“relax, i’m not gonna hurt you. or kidnap you. or murder you.”

of course, he sounds sketchy saying that but i can tell that his tone is genuine. still, him being this close is making my heart race. 

“look, if you don’t leave…”

“... what are you going to do?” he smirks more. it’s tempting to say the least. 

“i’m gonna…”

“gonna do what?” his mouth is close to my left ear. it’s low, deep, and husky. 

“i’m gonna shave your head bald!”

gojo stands back up straight and laughs. “haha, you’re cute. and funny.”

i blush at the comment. ugh i can’t take this anymore. i put my hands on his chest and attempt to push him back but he doesn’t move. just like the door. 

“how much… protein… do you eat?!” i say in between breaths, trying my hardest to push him but he remains firmly planted. 

“i don’t keep track.”

then gojo decides to stop being a tree and i end up pushing him back against the hotel room door. it makes a loud sound and i gasp. 

“oh my gosh, i’m so sorry! are you-”

“woahhh,” gojo teases me. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

i turn crimson red at his words and immediately take multiple steps back, covering my face with my hands. 

“awww don’t be so embarrassed. i’m just playing.” gojo walks past me and slumps in the chair. he just has to manspread, huh. “i’m staying here. if you try to run, i’ll catch you.”

“what if i just sneak out when you sleep?”

“i barely sleep. i’m also a pretty light sleeper and can tell that you’re very tired yourself. long day, right?” ugh he can read me too well. i watch as he takes off his black compression shirt in front of me. is that appropriate? 

“um well… you should get some rest though. at least 8 hours. you look tired,” i say. 

his gaze at me softens. “it’s okay, i’m used to getting only 4-5 hours.”

i feel bad and for a moment, i’m quiet. “i can sleep on the floor tonight. i’ll make a makeshift bed and-”

“no no, (name), it’s okay, i can sleep on this chair-”

“i’ve slept on the floor before a couple times already and it’s quite comfortable. don’t worry, i’ll be alright.”

gojo was adamant about me not sleeping on the floor. “no seriously, i-”

“hey, they have food service here!” i change the topic, picking up a menu on the table. “hungry?”

gojo shakes his head. “i’m alright.”

“mmm okay. i’m gonna get a bottle of red wine.” i begin to dial the food service number. the person on the other end of the phone picks up and i order the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu. 

after hanging up, i tell gojo i’m gonna shower. i end up showering faster than i expected and come out to see him still on the chair, but with his eyes closed. he looks completely relaxed. i can’t tell if he’s just resting or asleep. 

my eyes wander across his bare torso. gosh, how much does he bench press? his chest is broad and huge. his firm shoulders are literal boulders. i also notice how big his biceps are. i can’t imagine how much they must pop out if he flexes them on purpose-

a knock interrupts my thoughts. “food service!” a voice yells from outside. 

gojo and i make eye contact for a second as he opens his eyes due to the sudden voice. i immediately break it and head to the door, thanking the worker and getting the wine i ordered. 

i find wine glasses in a cabinet and pour myself some. “want any?” i ask gojo. 

“i think it’s best if i stay sober,” he smiles. 

“low tolerance that’s why?”

“nope. how are you with alcohol?”

“i’m uhh…” all i took was a couple sips and my cheeks already feel warm. “i have a low tolerance to it but it’s fine. i don’t do anything crazy when i’m drunk.”

“is that what your friends told you?”

“i never really drank with friends before.” i finish my first glass and immediately refill it. this was some good vintage wine. 

i’m not sure how many glasses i drank. gojo and i made small talk, like him just getting to know me better, but my memory was becoming difficult to organize. like is it just me or has he been looking at me… hungrily? must be my imagination. 

“you’re… not gonna sleep?” i ask. i’m sitting on the floor, my left elbow on the bed as i use my left hand to support my head. 

“not yet,” gojo replies amusingly. 

i yawn and get up. “well i might.” i open the closet to find spare pillows and blankets and set up a little bed on the floor. 

“hey, i said you could sleep on the-”

i grab gojo’s hand before he can finish and lead him to the bed. i then gently push him down and crawl on top of him. “you,” i point at his chest. “are sleeping here tonight.”

gojo just looks at me with wide eyes. he’s shocked at my actions but shouldn’t this be expected? i’m literally drunk. or do i just smell good? the wine smelled like berries after all. 

“oh? did you have some wine when i wasn’t looking? your cheeks are flushed,” i tease, poking at his cheeks. 

he turns a brighter shade of red. “i was talking to you the whole time.”

“mhmmm,” i slur. my hands unconsciously begin to trace his muscles. 

i’m so glad he’s not wearing a shirt right now. he’s so fucking hot. 

“you think i’m hot?”

i pause. did i say that out loud?

“yeah, you said that out loud,” gojo chuckles. 

“shit… my bad.” uh oh, now i can’t seem to differentiate my thoughts from reality. “let’s make it even. you tell me something on your mind now.”

i can sense how gojo pauses. his jaw clenches. his fists curl up. it’s like he’s holding back something and debating between spilling his guts or keeping quiet. i wanna ask him what’s so badly on his mind but he opens his mouth before i can. 

“do you… want to know every single thing that i want to do tonight?”

i nod. 

“are you sure?” he asks me this like there’s no turning back if he does. 

“tell me.”

“alright, here’s the whole list.” gojo swallows and i catch the way his throat moves. “i want to get a good feel of you. since i’m definitely not going to let you get away with hiding yourself from me. then i want to make you feel... good. real good. i’d like that, if you do.”

for a moment, i can’t speak. i can’t move. i can’t blink. i can’t do anything but avert my eyes so i’m not looking at him. he must’ve drunk the wine. he must’ve drunk the wine. he must’ve drunk the wine. “how do you want to get a good feel of me?” i blurt out. 

“how do i want to get a good feel of you?” gojo rubs his hand up my arm. “i want to touch every single part of you.”

those words alone make me want to take this stupid oversized t-shirt off. his touch is driving me insane. his hands are rough from callouses and i can tell they’re from weight lifting. oh to be the bar he bench presses-

“is that a no?”

i kiss him before he can say any more. like hell i would say no to him. 

his lips are soft and seem to fit perfectly on mine. he kisses back, but that’s when i realize i didn’t ask him for his consent so i pull away. 

“i’m sorry i didn’t ask for consent…”

gojo just stares at me like he was hurt i pulled away. but then his expression eases into a smile. “you can do anything to me, baby girl. do i have yours?”

i nod. such a simple movement seemed to flick a switch in his head because next thing i know, he’s tugging on my shirt and telling me to take it off. he’s begging me. 

“please, i want to see the pretty sight you’re hiding underneath.” his breath is hot against my skin. "please." i nod again, looking at the way his hands are clenching on my shirt so hard that his veins are extra noticeable. my shirt is off before i know it and he’s tracing the outline of my black lace bra. i know what’s coming off next. 

gojo is sat up a little now. taking advantage of this position, he gently pushes me down, laying me on my back and now he’s the one hovering over me. his frame is huge but his abs are what catch my eye. gosh maybe he should share his workout routine with me. 

our lips are back on each other’s. his lips taste a certain way that i can’t describe but it’s addicting. unexpectedly, he slides his tongue in which earns a little noise from me. that in turn makes gojo hum lowly, a guttural noise from the back of his throat. 

eventually, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, leaving us panting. but he wastes no time. gojo goes straight for my neck, kissing it softly and it tickles a little, until he kisses harder. the force, especially on that sweet spot of my neck, makes me grip onto his shoulders. 

“how am i supposed to stop after that?” his voice is rough, hoarse, and desperate. 

“don’t,” i breathe out, breathless even though i’m not doing the physical work. “i want you.”

gojo unexpectedly pulls away, leaving my neck to feel cold and empty. he looks down at me with a smirk. “now that i’ve got you where i want you, i guess i’ll just have to make the best of it. how about i make you beg for it, hm? you say that you want me right?”

i was so needy and desperate that i threw away my self-respect a long time ago. “satoru, please. please touch me.”

gojo pauses at the use of his first name. “say my name again.”

“satoru.”

“again.”

“satoru…”

“again,” he says, each time inching closer toward my neck and collarbone area. he plays with the left strap of my bra and lets it fall to the side. 

“satoru.”

“again.”

i decide to say something different. “how about you make me say your name until i lose my voice?”

“watch me,” he replies without hesitation, quick to kissing my neck again. he then softly bites down on my collarbone and begins to suck on the skin. i squeeze my eyes shut. he’s gonna leave a mark but i don’t seem to mind. 

“you’re mine. all mine.”

that night was a blur. unfortunately, i don’t remember the rest because i was too drunk. but there was a lot of kissing… touching… neediness… 

i wake up past 11 AM which is super late for me. this morning is different though. gojo is sleeping next to me, in nothing but boxers. he looks so peaceful. i’m sure that this is the most sleep he’s probably ever gotten in a while. 

i look down at myself. i’m back in my oversized t-shirt i swore he took off of me last night. even the bed i made on the floor is untouched. yawning, i groggily walk towards the bathroom. maybe that was a dream. or… not. 

i notice the mark on my collarbone. it causes me to clasp my hand over my mouth. did i… did i do that with my bodyguard? i CANNOT have my parents, my father especially, find out about this. 

the rest of the day was spent avoiding the topic of last night. i went shopping, gojo carried all my bags for me, we went on the city’s huge Ferris wheel, and ate dinner at a nice restaurant. 

when we got back to the hotel room, we were both exhausted. i couldn’t help but glance at the bottle of red wine on the table. there was still some left inside. that’s when gojo breaks the tension. 

“‘i don’t do anything crazy when i’m drunk,’” gojo quotes my words from yesterday. “do you remember what happened last night?”

my hands unconsciously touch that spot on my collarbone. “do you?”

“i remember it in great detail.”

my body shivers a little as i remember the way he touched me. his rough hands were soft, despite his callouses. he touched me gently like i was a fragile, delicate object. like i could shatter any second and i required precise care. 

he kissed me like my lips were an addicting drug he couldn’t get enough of. his body connected with mine like our bodies were meant for each other. he touched me in places i forgot about. he told me the most sweetest and most inappropriate things in existence. my ears heard it all, my eyes saw it all, my skin felt it all. he was greedy for me. 

“i want to remember.”

gojo put the shopping bags down and held my hand. he led me to the bed as he sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling me to sit on his lap so i was straddling him. he cups half of my face with one of his large hands and looks at me so… lovingly. 

“want to do it again sober this time?”

like hell i would say no to him. 

“yes.” 

a/n: character ai inspired 😞 gojo brainrot is real.

© isagisbabygorl

#gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #satoru gojo

[mrsbsmooth]

Future Islanders: My thoughts

My predictions about the Islanders we haven't seen yet, based on their character designs. This information will be 100% accurate, guaranteed*

*Not at all guaranteed

Spoilers under the cut. 18+. Contains gratuitous swearing.

Love his style, love his vibe, love his earring. He's so cute, and seems like he's gonna be really fun and flirty. But dear God, when I saw his surprised face, I just:

Those eyes - those fucking eyes. They are lifeless. Like this man has seen either seen some shit or had some serious plastic surgery, and I worry about him. I just… oh god, I got the ick so fast it's not even funny. And then I realised he got the same as Ozzy and got the Rocco flirty face which ends up looking like this emoji specifically

Definitely has a cool job though - maybe a runway model, artist, or some other artistic profession. Definitely from a cool part of Inner London.

*Editing to add:

It’s been brought to my attention that the way I worded this criticism is rather offensive, and I want to clarify what I meant. When I mentioned Andy’s eyes, I was referring to the way they were drawn. Usually when animating a character you’ll give them smile lines or crinkles to show a smile “reaches their eyes” etc, but this looks like they just slapped a shocked mouth on him and nothing else. My intention isn’t to make fun of his eye shape itself, or of any aspect of his ethnicity, it was a poorly worded/thought out criticism and I’m sorry 🤍

Villain. Calling it now, she's a villain. Her pose is too cool and confident to be anything other than a villain, because GOD FORBID Fusebox give us a strong, confident WOC that doesn't have some deep, unbridled desire to get her claws into whichever man we tell her we want.

I LOVE her design though. She's got super cute outfits, and isn't afraid to show a bit of skin (THAT CORSET TOP GIVE IT TO ME!) so definitely great style. I'm calling it now - she's a model. Might even be French. If she's French and a complete and utter bitch I might just fall in love with her, give me the pain, urgh.

SNAAAAKE SNAAAAAKEEE AHHHH IT'S A SNAAAAAKE

Don't let the glasses fool you. This man is a snake. I knew it from the second I saw him, and it's only been confirmed in the Casa postcards that @oliverslove posted. Never trust a blonde man (except Lewie, trust him with your life and ass).

Judges you on your book choices, but hasn't read one himself in years. Namedrops philosophers but has never had a unique thought in his life. Thinks some of Jordan Peterson's ideas "aren't actually that bad, when you think about it".

This is a man who looks innocent on the outside. "Oh, look at me, I'm a cute little nerd who reads books and plays D&D". But I guarantee, he's a fucking asshole. The kind of guy who thinks women owe him something, so treats them like dirt when they don't give him what he wants.

THAT SAID, his daywear is super basic but very cute, and he's wearing Versace underwear, so he's probably loaded. Jobwise - I'm putting my money on marketing or some other office-type job.

Okay, yeah, she cute. But I am suspicious of her too. Something about her screams Lily from S3 to me, like she's gonna come in purely to take my man. And what's worse, in the Casa postcard she's in bed with a girl, so she might even be taking my girl too!!!!

Love her style, but don't love her vibe. I can't even develop any thoughts outside of wild jealousy.

🤢 sorry, let me just *throws up in my mouth*, 🤢 Felix 2.0, God, I hate his character design so much. When I saw him briefly in his daywear I got SO EXCITED because I thought we might be getting a dadbod, but no, apparently the guy who walks around in the camel-hair woven poncho has a FUCKING EIGHT-PACK (FUSEBOX IN WHAT UNIVERSE?!!??!?!??) Then I thought he might be an environmentalist type, you know, vegan, save the animals and that. But then I saw his LEATHER JACKET and SHARK TOOTH NECKLACE and God damn it, I've lost all faith. This guy wants so bad to be Rocco it's not even funny, at least Rocco was decent looking, this guy has a pig snout for a nose and a smooshy face, don't ask me to elaborate, I hate him, and don't get me started on the fact he's wearing SANDALS with his FORMALWEAR

Smokes so much weed he can't get it up, will disappoint anyone who comes near him. Stay away, 0/10.

Gold diggers come get your man! It's Lucas Beresford-Smug the third. If this guy doesn't have a double-barrelled last name and a numeral in his name I will buy a hat and fucking eat it. Absolute guaranteed 100% arrogant FUCKHEAD, giant twat, thinks he is God's gift to women until he inevitably meets MC and falls so desperately in love that he changes his ways to show her he's the man she deserves. Yeah, okay, the storyline's predictable. Yes, he's likely an insufferable, sheltered, self-obsessed pig. But does that make me want him any less? ... No it does not.

Already posted it in response to @rebelrayne's husband's thoughts but what kind of spoilt little asshole wears a US$20,000 watch IN THE FUCKING SHOWER!!!!!!!

I don't care that it's water resistant to 100m you don't wear a $20k watch IN THE SHOWER and expect people to not think you're a complete and utter fucking asshole. He's a Jasper/ Lucas / Tom hybrid, with Taron Egerton's body and face, I'm getting a short king vibe but maybe that's just from the way his suit is way too big through the shoulders for him, making him look like a 1920's gangster. Works in finance or medicine, I will stake my life on it.

Blindfold this man, kidnap him, and handcuff him to the bed in the hideaway, he may very well be the death of my loyal Lewie route. He is so fine I can't breathe, it's something about the beard. Bearded men are the death of me. And if he's Ozzy's older brother, sorry, suddenly I can't breathe.

I have very few thoughts about him other than the fact he's a fucking stunning piece of artwork that, if real, I would physically need to take a bite out of. I am barking at him, god fucking damn. The arrogance and confidence and big dick energy required to wear an all-cream outfit is just... urgh, someone splash me with water.

Unfortunately, like his brother and Andy, our beloved and holiest daddy (Marshall) also got the Rocco treatment for his flirty face

It's not as bad because his beard covers the smirk, but holy shit, Fusebox, do better. I don't want to be doing a steamy scene with the boys and they whip out THIS. It makes me want to punch something. DO BETTER.

What an absolute waste of a hot-guy name. This dude looks like John Travolta had a child with Littlefoot from The Land Before Time. His mouth looks like it was slapped on his face as an afterthought, his eyebrows are too thick, and the only hot face he has is his angry one, which I'm going to be trying to elicit as often as possible. He looks like he's been to prison, Wentworth Miller vibes but not in a sexy way. Tried to join the skinheads but they didn’t want him. Tried to get a teardrop tattoo to look hard but everyone just ignored him. Strongest of strong dislike, 0/10, I will slander Toby until the day I die. Boooo. BOOOOO.

#litg s6 #litg season 6 #litg dt #litg doublte trouble #litg character review #litg andy #litg chloe #litg elliot #litg flo #litg francis #litg #litg marshall #litg toby #litg hamish

[samsvenn]

OMG i loved your Subaru’s and Reiji’s clothes headcanons, they were so so good and so so accurate, you’re a genius! 💖 so I was wondering if you could make Shuu’s clothes headcanons please?~

I love your work, thanks for your effort 💓

𝐒𝐡𝐮 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Possibly the most effort this man has put in over millennia is what fabric is the best for sleeping in.

You can’t tell me that he’s not bothered to do so. If there’s anything this man is willing to fight for that doesn’t include his MP3 player or Yuma, it’s his sleep.

The fabric has to be versatile. He tried silk but it looked way too gaudy and it caused far too many distractions to be a candidate. A group of preps was walking through one of the hallways that the staff used to try and sneak out. It ended badly. “And then I was- OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT BLONDE HOTTIE-” They all got caught, including Shu, and had to spend the school after hours in detention. 

He settled for linen and polyester. Both weren’t itchy (in the case of some woolen clothes) nor did they need too much maintenance such as leather (conditioning, protecting it away from sunlight, keeping it dry, you get the gist). They stretched pretty far and felt cool to the touch, the thickness was always on the thinner side so it provided great comfort. 

The same can be said for his pants. Shu isn’t too picky about the fabric itself, but rather how nice they feel and wrap around his body. If he’s wearing tight stiff denim, they’d be hard to sleep in due to the lack of circulation and rough fabric chaffing on his knees and other plush areas.

All of his clothes are wrinkled. From childhood until now, he has always gotten the best quality clothes since Beatrix never wanted to settle for less and has never had anything secondhand due to his position as the eldest. This deepened the wedge in his relationship with Reiji since Shu never had to take care of his clothes due to how many Butlers were willing to break their backs, just to seem more favorable in front of young Shu.

Reiji, on the other hand, was seen as the lesser of the two so the only Butlers he had were old gentlemen who couldn’t be bothered to put on a facadé of kissing up to the eldest.

After they started living in the Manor, things changed and Shu never bothered to learn how to iron clothes, delegating this task to the mercy of his brother.

Wears brand names because most of the clothes in his wardrobe are from when his mother was still alive. All of these brands are what the Old Money rich families buy from so Brunello Cucinelli, Hermès, Saint Lauren, Burberry, Ermenegildo Zegna, and much more. Shu, at the end of the day, is still the Crown Prince, no matter how simple and down to Earth he dresses.

Doesn’t wear too many accessories except for squared black sunglasses. Nothing too flashy plus it provides coverage away from the harsh rays of the sun. He never puts care into storing them though. Shu chucks them in his pockets and doesn’t care if they bend or break so he’s gone through a bunch. He chooses squared frames because some frames wrap around his head, for example, Oakleys. Stays away from squared frames where the lenses are way too minuscule to even be called sunglasses. 

Adding more to this, he doesn't like thin-framed glasses due to the same storing problem he has.

Wears Skechers slip-ons. Loafers were his go-to’s until he discovered the memory foam insoles that Skechers provided. Goes with darker colors and is against wearing the more colorful variety because he knows that Laito will use it against him in an argument. 

“I don’t want to hear that from a fake pervert.”

“You wear Skechers and expect me to take you seriously?”

The Biggest Skechers Defender. Don’t say anything bad about Skechers. 

The color palette of most of his outfits is light colors. Since Shu sleeps a lot, it’s not certain whether he’s sleeping in or out of the manor. Because of this, he wears light colors most of the time so that the Sun won’t scorch him alive when he’s napping somewhere. Knowing Shu, he doesn’t use sunscreen unless they’re going on a more tropical family vacation so he’d get sunburnt and the feel of the heat of the sun is more prominent since vampires are much more receptive to weather conditions due to how their senses differ from humans. (will explore in a future post about vampire body anatomy and senses headcanon)

Pale yellows, hues of whites, and umber are his daily colors. 

His clothes fit snugly. Not too tight and it has some looseness to it. Shu’s pants go back and forth on this pendulum where some pants fit around his waist and some pants where the bottom hem of some pants are wide and reach to the floor - to the point where they look like bell-bottom jeans. His shirts and tops though are always spacious and the only joint where it sits comfortably is his broad shoulders. 

A big whore for light sweaters because they vaguely remind him of his mother. As a child, in the harsh winter of the Demon World, Beatrix would dress him up in heavy cotton sweaters where there were little to no designs for a child to enjoy. Yet it was one of the closest affectionate things Beatrix has done to care for Shu, outside of anything studious. Doesn’t know how to emotionally process whether he should loathe his mother for the lack of motherly love he received that out of all things, THIS was the apex of ‘love’ or if he should be happy that this is a fond memory he can remember her by. 

Said sweaters are very light that you can almost see through them. 

Moving on to his essentials, he prefers earphones to headphones. Though headphones are much more comfortable over long time use since they sit around the ear rather than inside and also have the benefit of having noise cancellation, earbuds/in-ears are more portable and easier to sleep in. Shu doesn't have to worry about them bending or snapping as he dozes off plus they’re easier to afford than most high-end headphones. 

The price of one high-end headphone is enough for two high-end earphones. With how fast and quick Shu goes through a pair, he values the availability and portability the earphones provide. 

Wears a pair of ZSN Pro X. The earphones are made from metal and resin so they’re more durable than most earphones you’d find on the market. These earphones are in-ears, where the cable/wire is detachable if any harm or knicks have damaged them. As long as the earphones are intact, you can just replace the broken wire instead of paying for another pair of earphones, which can save costs in the long run. 

They’re also in the shape of an ear hook so that while he’s thrashing in his sleep, the earphones will be hard to remove from his ear, allowing him to nap in peace for a little bit longer.

#diabolik lovers #diabolik brothers #sakamaki shu #diabolik lovers headcanons #headcanons

[skinnytuna]

(i'm anon who replied to your long post about audience validation and art)

thank you for your response, it's very interesting. it's actually kinda funny because I used to be a person who never, ever shared anything I did with other people (online or in person). I wouldn't talk about the media I enjoyed or showed the drawings I made. it always felt too intimate - I was only doing it for myself and so having other people's eyes on it wouldn't add anything to my enjoyment apart from shame from not liking or creating the 'perfect' thing. if I imagined what I would do in the future, it was only from the perspective of what I would actually create, rather than the validation it would give me.

and then my world view flipped, I guess as I became increasingly exposed to online validation. I still dont share anything I make but if I (indulgently) daydream about creating something, it is rarely purely the process of creation that I think about. I cant separate the stuff I do and the response I would get like I could as a kid. this is probably partly because of watching numbers rise online. but maybe it could also just be the sad reality of transitioning into adulthood? when you are young the stuff you make is never going to get you shit. but when you are older, you are expected to view the world with a transactional slant: whatever you give, you must get back in return.

idk how into fandoms you are but I love them because they are a way to remove that dependence on transaction (both monetary and inter-personal validation) we have. obviously, fandoms mostly exist in an online world and so some people are going to be more successful at creating than others (and some people might even manage to make a tiny amount of money) but mostly they are pretty equal. most artists (fic writers/fan artists) are only creating for the sake of creation. they like something, want to improve it or want to explore a world and so they create. some fanfic writers will never get past 100 kudos on a single work, but they still write thousands and thousands of more words. this is because, for them, writing is a hobby and a way to have fun. they are literally unable to monetise it, and the possible size of a response is often limited by the tiny size of a niche fandom.

fan fiction is wholly and unapologetically amateur. it can be a great quality, but writers have the freedom to create imperfect things and learn as they go. there are no critics, book sales or best seller lists - you can just make shit and put it out there if you want.

idk if any of that made sense but yeah

it's funny you say that about adulthood because there are so many like. 13 year old rappers now who are solely in it for the money or dont understand why they are doing it and their parents are encouraging them to do it for the money so like. childhood for us was very different to what childhood currently is, right now this year.

but i personally cant remember a time when i wasn't desperate for validation like when i was playing guitar when i was 8 or 10 i still had that "i hope im good enough i want to be good enough without trying" feeling it's just the people i wanted to impress were like, authority figures. i wanted my guitar teacher to think i was cool. i wanted my moms friends to think i was funny. i'm still afraid of doing anything i haven't already learned how to do, writing is the first New thing i've attempted in maybe my entire adulthood.

it's kind of funny, when i was younger i didn't realize how bad i was at writing music and that's the only reason i stuck to it long enough to learn anything. i was like laughably bad at it in high school and no one really went out of there way to grab me by the shoulders and say "hey! you suck at this! stop!" though a bunch of people did tell me it kinda sucked. i mostly just thought they were wrong. they weren't. but now part of me doesn't believe i could ever be any good at something that isn't that. like when i write fiction i know on a cognitive level if it ends up being good it's not because i worked hard or earned it or anything it's just a complete fluke. and i don't even really believe people when they tell me it's good. even though obviously i'm only posting it so people will tell me it's good.

in a way i feel like i'm sort of shifting back to the way i was in high school... every piece of art i make im like "this is the best shit ever" and then i post it and if people tell me it sucks im like "lol. incorrect. your tastes are Unrefined" and then i keep making more whatever crap whatever. which honestly is the best way to live i think. i have some people in my life who really like, respect and admire that i make whatever the fuck i want without ever really considering whether or not i should. which is funny because i have a lot of people in my life who are like, Normal artists, who Think before they make something, and try to make Good Things and i envy them greatly because it really comes through in the work.

though obviously as an evil bastard communist i am a strong believer that "Bad" Art Is Radical and "Good" Art is Bourgeois Idealism and i find myself constantly torn between, the allure of timesinks and iteration and the mystique of hyperprolific stream of consciousness artists and i feel like i'm the worst of both worlds by not being fully one way or the other! but i guess not everyone can be Lil B and not everyone can be Frank Ocean and some of us need to sit in between those two extremes...

look at all this me talking about how i never stop and think about the art while i'm stopping and thinking about the art... i'm an Olympic level liar rn.

i've never read a fanfiction in my life (outside of like.. homestuck smut when i was fifteen. which i guess Technically Counts.) but as the form is widely derided i'm sure it has the most artistic merit of any thing. i think a lot about what a world would be like where money and art are completely unrelated. and all art exists completely separate from how much dollars it can make a corporation. would being popular even matter? would people still seek fame... complicated questions. Way if we pees form butts

#you better tell me who you are anon we better become friends

[whltlock]

for the blurbs can i ask for more Jason x sex worker!reader? I'm high key obsessed with them

A/N: this is set further in the future than my other one-shots, when they're realising they're falling in love 🥰 just plain ol' mundane domesticity

Jason ducks around the corner at the same time you reach it. You peek over your shoulder, eying how far you’ve wandered from the club. Sometimes, if you’ve been good, Tomas doesn’t mind as much if you take a little trip around town. As long as you come back within a couple of hours. And usually, you have an escort, but what he doesn’t know won’t kill him. Even if it might kill you.

Jason watches your fur coat bristle in the breeze. It’s dark and lush, perhaps one of the few items you own that is; it also shields your body from passersby.

You squeeze it tighter around yourself as you look up at him. “Hi,” you say, voice delicate rather than sultry.

“Hey,” he replies. He glances down at his hands where two steaming cups are housed, then holds one out. “Dunno if you drink coffee, so I got hot cocoa,” he says, a little sheepish. “Whipped cream, too.”

He’s mesmerised by the smile that lights up your face.

Your hand curls around his as you take the cup, but you stay there a moment, wishing he wasn’t wearing his gloves; wanting a bit of human contact.

Slowly, you trade.

“Mmm,” you hum after a sip, expression still bright. Your eyes land on him and he thinks the splotch of cream on your lips is adorable. So, so different to the persona you use to survive.

Until your tongue flicks out and licks it away, then his chin drops as his cheeks grow hot. Your smile turns wily.

He thinks he likes your company. Likes it a lot. Maybe too much.

“We’re not allowed chocolate,” you say then, pulling him from his embarrassment.

“Figured,” Jason says, and it tastes sour on his tongue. The perils of man-unkind. “Could you hide some if I got more?” he asks.

The tang worsens when your mouth tugs forlornly.

“Probably not.”

He sighs. Not wanting to ruin the mood, he continues, “You need anything?”

You shrug casually. “You’re not the delivery man, you know.”

Jason makes a displeased noise. You smile.

“Blankets? Socks?” he suggests, ignoring your amusement.

You shake your head. There’s such a fine line between what will and won’t be noticed; what will put you on the boss’ radar in a bad way.

He deflates.

Your eyes trace the cup that’s cooling as you search for a name. There isn’t one. Your fingers tap the thin cardboard.

Your eyes drag up again, tracing his dark clothing, the couple days’ worth of stubble, the sharpness of his features. His eyes that are bright and feel omnipotent. The nervous swallow that passes through his Adam’s apple.

Every time you see him, he gets more handsome. You think about kissing him.

He’s not the saviour the world pictures, but he’s better, you think, because he actually cares about you. Not the glory or the money or the blood—just you.

Finally, you ask, “What’s your name?”

His weight shifts feet. He stares. You wait.

He clears his throat, and then, “Jason.”

“Jason?” you echo.

He nods.

Jason.

You step forward. Jason watches your every move, terrified of the power that he’s handed over.

You look him up and down, then quickly and to his surprise, you hug him. He sways as his balance is interrupted.

“Jason,” comes out muffled against his shirt. You feel his warmth and nuzzle into it; breathe in his delicious, inviting cologne. “Thank you.”

It’s not just a thanks for the drink; it’s for everything.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by the gratitude, and gradually, he sinks into your arms. His nose settles in your hair, and just like you, he savours the sensations, all of them new and thrilling.

Jason.

Jason. Jason. Jason. Jason.

It rings in your head like a prayer and you want to fold yourself into him, a willing disciple.

His hand lingers on your spine as he says, “I got you.”

Your eyes slide upwards. Slyly, you tease, “I had you first.”

He doesn’t let you deflect as his palms swiftly cup your cheeks. He holds you firm and steady, unwavering eyes on yours. “I got you,” he says, each word pronounced gravely. “I’m with you. Understand?”

You can’t help but glance at his mouth, although you nod. “Yes,” you whisper. Without realising it, your fingers have tangled with his, mirroring the hammering insides of your chest. He squeezes them.

“Good.” After a moment, as the seriousness fades, he taps your nose with glittering eyes. “Now drink up. I got more snacks on me.”

MASTERLIST IN NOTES

#if you see this requests are *whispers* open #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #now i have to figure out their first kiss #fic* #jtdrabble* #jasonstripperau

[snelbz]

'Til Death Do Us Part {Chapter Two}

Elorcan. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab.

‘Til Death Do Us Part Masterlist

Elide

—

I stand outside of the restaurant wishing I had brought a jacket. During the day, summers in Orynth are absolute perfection, the sun always shining and the temperature in the seventies, near perfection. At night, cool air drifts from the mountains and a cool breeze takes away what’s left of the warmth. It would not be so bad if my date had been here when I arrived, but there’s been no sign of him. I check my phone. I’ve already been here for almost thirty minutes.

I hate blind dates. The thought has terrified me in the past but I’m at a point in my life that I want a partner. I want to find love, as most people do, but the process of finding love is a painful endeavor. 

It has me standing out here in my finest dress freezing my ass off in five inch heels. Every car that passes me has me excited, borderline anxious, but it quickly fades to annoyance as they keep on driving and no one gets out. I check the time again. It has officially been more than half an hour. 

I’m not sure how long to wait before going home, but I’m starving so I decide to wait it out. The thought of chicken marsala and a glass of wine has my mouth watering to the point that I nearly go in without him, but I don’t. I only have so much money on me. Hopefully he offers to pay. If not, I may only be eating ramen until my next paycheck.

Which sounds delicious right now. Gods, I’m starving.

“Elide?”

I turn towards the sound of my name being called, my eyes falling on the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. His blue eyes smolder in the dim lighting of the restaurant behind us and I swear, you could use his jawline as a knife. He did tell me he was a model, and his profile corroborated that information, but I figured he was lying.

With those cheekbones, I know he isn’t.

“Yes, hey.” I smile up at him. At five foot two, almost everyone I meet is taller than me, but this guy is a good bit over six feet. Even in my ridiculous heels, he’s a lot taller than I am. “You must be Roland.”

“Yeah…” Rather than extending his hand to me or anything remotely appropriate to say or do on a first date, he proceeds to take a step back and look me over from head to toe. He doesn’t say a word, he just keeps letting his eyes dance over me.

Another chilled breeze stirs up my hair and I fight off a shiver. The smile is starting to feel more like a grimace, but I say, “If you’re ready, we can go inside.” He’s been studying me for nearly a full minute now, he had to have noticed I’m not wearing a jacket.

Roland bites his lip, a move I’m sure has drenched many a pair of panties, and crosses his arms. “Listen, you’re…not what I was expecting.”

I blink, floored by his response. “Oh…”

Gesturing to himself and then back to me, he explains, “I’ve got an image to uphold and you…don’t fit that.”

I try to keep myself from gaping. “I’m…sorry. I don’t follow.”

His eyes narrow and he looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Don’t make me be the bad guy.”

I jolt, nearly laughing. “What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, I’m freezing my ass off and I’m hangry. I don’t have time for this guy’s games.

“I can’t be seen with you,” he says, simply, shrugging. “You’re just not my type. You looked different in your pictures. Taller. More put together. Sexy.”

Taller? How does someone look tall in selfies? And more put together? “My gods, I—”

“Feel free to use our table. It’s reserved until nine.” He gestures towards the doors, backing up a few more steps. “The lobster is great.”

With that, he’s gone, and I’m left staring after him like a dumbfounded idiot. I’m not his type? I’m too short? I’m not even going to touch the sexy comment, cause he’s sort of right about that. If I wasn’t a damn lady, I’d be running after him, tackling him to the ground, and punching him right in his pretty boy nose.

But, I am a lady, so I grip my clutch a little tighter and walk the opposite way of the asshole, back to my apartment. I could take the bus, but I’m already so cold that I don’t want to wait at the bus stop. It’s only a few blocks and the walking should help warm me up.

The walk and the newfound anger brewing deep inside my gut.

Not his type? I don’t know who that guy thinks he is. I don’t know how he’ll ever find a girl that wants more than a one night stand. What he has in beauty, he lacks in any sort of inner attraction whatsoever. Not his type. Prick. 

Embarrassed and wishing I had never left my house to begin with, I walk as quickly as I can, although my choice of shoes for the evening protest with every step. I wish I had a car, but a car costs money and so does, gas so here I am, reinventing the walk of shame. 

I hope he gets hit by a taxi.

I should feel guilty for that thought.

I don’t.

I don’t live in the best part of town, but my landlord hasn’t increased my rent in three years. It’s probably thanks to the leaking windows, failing air conditioning, and the fact that the plumbing constantly backs up for no reason, but I won’t push my luck. Not when I can’t afford anything else without moving outside of the city.

I jog up the steps to my floor, ready to kick off the stupid heels the second I get inside, but as I stand outside my door, numb fingers fumbling with my keys, the door across from mine opens.

“Miss Elide, I thought you had a date tonight.”

I turn around and give Murtaugh a tired smile. “It didn’t work out.”

“That’s okay,” he replies, leaning on his door frame. “If it didn't work out, he didn’t deserve you anyways.”

You have no clue how right you are. “Thank you, Murtaugh.”

“You really should give my grandson a chance,” he says as I finally get my door unlocked. “He’s very handsome.”

“If he’s half as handsome as you, then I’m already out of my league.” I step inside, immediately ditching the heels by the door. “Goodnight, Murtaugh.”

His kind smile has been one of the only constant things I’ve had in my life for the past few years. “Goodnight, Miss Elide.”

We shut our respective doors and I immediately hear a tiny bell rushing towards me. A ball of black fluff appears from the hallway leading to the lone bedroom and then rushes towards me. Anneith purrs loudly as I add food to her bowl, despite it being almost completely full.

I leave the ridiculous heels by the door, wondering if it’s too late to return them. I know exactly where the receipt is, and they were only worn for my disaster of a date.

I sigh as I grab my phone from my clutch and head towards my bedroom. I’ve got a few soap orders I need to pack up before bed and last time I checked my email, I had three new orders placed, but I’m drained. I’d been looking forward to that date for days. Roland and I had been talking for a few weeks at this point and I really thought we’d hit it off. We had similar beliefs when it came to our futures and families. He knew I didn’t have a conventional “job”, just like he didn’t. We’d stayed up countless nights chatting and I…

I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’ve been single for almost three years, since Ress and I broke up. There’s a reason for that, clearly. I just need to accept my future as a cat lady and move on.

Before I start making matching T-shirts for me and Anneith, though, I call my best friend as I enter my room and unzip my dress. She answers on the first ring.

“I should not be hearing from you this soon.” Aelin, as always, is far too perceptive for her own good. “I shouldn’t be hearing from you until tomorrow morning when you call me to tell me how big his dick was.”

She says that as if that’s our normal routine, which it sort of is. Or at least, it used to be. It had been very one-sided while Aelin was dating and I was, by no choice of my own, nearly celibate. Then she met Rowan.

“No dick report tonight,” I sigh, tugging a baggy shirt over my head and a pair of comfy pajama bottoms. “We didn’t even make it into the restaurant and he was almost an hour late.”

Aelin is quiet for a moment before she asks, “And do I want to know why you didn’t even make it into the restaurant?” 

I sigh as I fall back onto my bed and close my eyes. “He took one very long look at me and told me I wasn’t his type. Then he left.”

Aelin is quiet for another minute and I prepare myself for her supportive wrath. “I’m sorry,” she starts, “he did what? Who is this asshole? Where does he live? I will burn his house to the ground and laugh as—”

“It’s fine,” I say, although her manic response has me laughing. “If that’s the way he was gonna be I don’t want to sit through an entire evening with him anyways.” Even if the sex would have been good, which I’m sure it would have been. I miss sex. I miss someone else making me orgasm instead of having to work so damn hard for it myself, but I can’t get with the one night stand program. It’s just not how I’m wired. “I think I’ll just pour a glass of wine and eat what’s left of the ice cream in my freezer.”

Aelin sighs and I know she’s frowning. “Hang tight and I’ll be there in twenty minutes with a full gallon.”

“No,” I say, pulling my blankets up over my head. “I know Rowan just got home. You’ve been missing him like crazy and I have the honor of seeing you all the time. Stay with him.”

“I don’t want you to be alone tonight,” Aelin says, and I have no idea how I found a friend so perfect and wonderful to keep for the entirety of my life. “You deserve to have fun, even if it’s not the fun you intended.”

I laugh and shake my head. “If you come here I’m locking you out. Stay home. I can’t imagine Rowan will like me very much if I take you away once he’s just gotten there.” 

She sighs dramatically, but the sound is full of love, and then a familiar deep voicerumbles over the phone. “Thank you, Elide.”

I laugh, despite how lonely the sound of Aelin’s boyfriend makes me feel. “You’re welcome. Glad you’re home safe and sound.” 

Aelin’s voice is much more clear when she speaks next and I know she’s got the phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

I can tell Aelin is torn between being a good friend and being a good girlfriend, so I make the decision for her. “I’m positive. I’ve got, like, six orders I need to work on to go out tomorrow, so it works out.”

It’s a crappy lie and I’m pretty sure Aelin knows it. Still, she relents. “I’ll come over right after work tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, now go enjoy yourself.” I rethink the words the second they’re out of my mouth.

“Don’t worry, I will.” I groan and she laughs. “I’m sorry your date sucked, but I promise, I’m going to find you the hottest, most amazing guy ever.”

Aelin had tried playing matchmaker for me before. It always ended horribly.

I’m shaking my head, despite the fact that she can’t see me. “I appreciate it, but you know me, I’m fine on my own.”

And I was. I’d been on my own since I was seventeen. A boyfriend wouldn’t change the fact that I can take care of myself.

I’m just sick of being the only one who does.

“I know,” Aelin says, as if she’s reading my thoughts just like she always has. “I love you. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Love you,” I say, and hang up as Rowan’s voice echoes in the background and Aelin giggles.

I’m happy that Aelin found someone like Rowan. They’re perfect for one another. I can tell she loves him every time he’s even mentioned. I don’t know how she does it, though, loving someone who is constantly gone. He’s always touring. When he is home it’s for a couple months then he’s gone for the rest of the year, only coming back for a week every now and then. I know he’s loyal to her but that distance… I don’t think I could do it. 

I wouldn’t want to.

I want a man who will wake up beside me every morning and go to his boring 9-to-5 job right here in Orynth. Not that I need a man. I’ve already established that, that I’m well enough on my own. Especially if the rest of the men in this city are anything like Roland.

#til death do us part #elorcan tddup #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #elide lochan #lorcan salvaterre #lorcan lochan #elide x lorcan #elorcan #snelbz x the lady of death collab #snacmc collabs

[elminx]

Spell Energetics: How to Apply the concept of Herbal Energetics to your spell work

Note: I'm drawing here from my knowledge of herbal energetics as they are recognized in multiple herbalism systems, my knowledge of astrology, and the concepts of sympathetic magic - if this isn't your thing, please just move along.

The four elements and the concepts of Energetics run consistently through the framework of much of the Western magic systems but it's something that is often overlooked. Suppose rather than relegating the elements to something that we call upon ritualistically to join us in our magic works (or, that must be represented on an altar), we instead stop and consider what they are, and what they do. In that case, we can gain a deeper understanding of how magic works on a human being.

The idea of the four elements and their associated qualities (dry, warm, cool, and moist - now known as herbal energetics) comes from the Athenian philosopher Aristotle. The fire element is warm, the earth element is cool, the air element is dry, and the water element is wet. This shows a remarkable difference from the modern astrological association of earth being opposed to water, and air to fire as it is shown on the astrological wheel; here, hot is opposed to cold (fire to earth) and dry to wet (air to water). It is worth noting that this can be somewhat proven through action - earth puts out fire, for instance. Today, we understand that there is more to healthfulness than balancing energetics (thank you antibiotics, vaccines, and insert your favorite modern medical miracle here) but there are still a number of views on wellness that encourage considering them. Maybe someday I will write more of this and how it relates to synastry, but let's focus on how this can be used in magic.

From here, we need to take a dive into modern herbalism. Why are we doing this? Because most people use all sorts of herbal components as ingredients in our spells and many of our correspondences have their roots in how that plant matter interacts with the human body. One of the major considerations when choosing an herb is what its Action is on the human body. These actions include Heating (Warm/Fire), Cooling (Cool/Water), Drying (Dry/Air), and Wetting (Moist/Water).

We use these actions all of the time without even knowing that we are doing them. Most cocktail people know that you want to drink a Mint Julip in the summer to cool you down (mint is a Cooling herb). On the other hand, if you need a pick me up, Chai tea which is full of warming herbs - even noncaffeinated versions like Bengal Spice - does the trick. The marshmallow (a Moist herb) does the coating of the throat in "Throat Coat" tea. The conditions of warm/cool/dry/moist are so normal to use as human beings that we tend to overlook them and adjust for them automatically.

With this in mind, I want to bring up a few ways in which this can be applied in witchcraft.

Warm is nice and pleasant. A lot of the warming herbs are used in money and sex magic - they make us feel good. But, like any good thing, they might need to be consumed in moderation. Candles carry the innate action of warmth and just think about how important fire safety is. Some herbs that warm cannot always be handled with bare hands (spicy peppers cause capsaicin burns) and these have long-documented uses in baneful magics of all kinds.

Cool magic can be used to calm and control. It can be used to put a particular situation on ice so that you don't have to deal with it. It can bring down fevers. It can soothe bad tempers and hot-headedness. It can preserve. It can also protect and insulate.

Dry magic can also be used to preserve. It can dry up emotions and stifle passion. It can draw out something or draw something away from a situation. It can create space.

Moist magic can be overflowing and generous. It can also be stagnant and suffocating. Moisture can revive life. It can also drown it.

It is worth noting that all aspects of these factors are always present in our lives. And they don't exist in a vacuum - everything is a combination of the two Aristotlean categories: you have Warm Moist or Warm Dry, and Cool Moist or Cool Dry.

We use these principles in magic all of the time. Anytime that you are using a liquid in a jar spell, you are applying the concept of Moist. If you are applying salt or rice to drain an object, you are using the concept of Dry. A freezer spell is an obvious example of Cool and any time that you are burning something you are using the concept of Warm.

But let's go a step further. If you are trying to do a warming spell, wouldn't it make sense to use specifically only warming herbs - or, at least - herbs that don't counteract Warmth (aka abstain from using cooling herbs?). Remember, these herbs have a natural and calculable effect on the human body so one would assume that, when used as part of a spell directed at a human body, they will have a similar effect. Even if you're a total candle head (I get it - I LOVE candle magic), consider not adding a candle to a spell meant to freeze somebody out.

When casting a hex, it is worth considering whether you want to burn them out with fire or take the slower more calculated path of ice. (Stop me from quoting Robert Frost here...) If you need to separate a couple who thrives on relationship conflict, drying them out could be a good option - more specifically, I'd probably use cool/dry.

Really we are getting into the basics of all sympathetic magic: using a thing that has an obvious effect to transfer that effect, through our spell, to the spell's intended target. This is why I have been very specific in saying that this applies to magic cast on a human being - here we are using the principles of Energetics and how they affect humans. For a spell on an animal or your house, entirely different sympathetic principles would apply.

The next time that you are choosing between two herbs that are said to have the same associations, consider whether one might be better than the other based on the Energetic nature of that plant. You might find a whole new level of casting open up to you.

Do you like my work? You can support my writing by tipping me over on Kofi.

#witchblr #spell crafting #herbal energetics #energetics #spell correspondences #sympathy #sympathetic magic #words #mine #herbalism #Aristotle

[ohmytyong]

mark me in your heart [teaser]

PAIRING: drug dealer!mark x bartender!reader

GENRE: angst, smut, kinda friends with benefits au, bartender!renjun, best friend!renjun, action au

TEASER WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, explicit scene of drug use, use of pet names

WC: tba (TEASER WC: 1,2k)

‣[PLAYLIST]: 505 by arctic monkeys, bad omens by 5 seconds of summer, slow down by chase atlantic, why do you only call me when you're high? by arctic monkeys, a little death by the neighborhood, okay by chase atlantic

SUMMARY: when a sensitive and broken heart meets another one of the same nature, their instinctive reaction is to seek comfort in each other, and in order to heal themselves, they both need to be equally strong and willing to put all their broken pieces back together. but sometimes, some hearts aren't strong enough to be saved; the only way to save them is if the stronger heart of the two is willing to take the risk and try for the both of them, whatever it takes.

A/N: i forgot how long i've had this idea sitting in my drafts. i think it's time it saw the light of day and i think it's better if i share this with you

wanna be notified when i post the full fic? join the taglist here or send me an ask! | click here to join my general taglist

“Hey Renjun, pass me that glass” you said as you wiped the thick tall glass completely dry before you put it back on the shelf behind you. You were moving mechanically at this point, the exhaustion of the long night at the bar taking over your entire body. It was 5 in the morning and you had just barely managed to kick out some of the remaining drunk nobodies who were so wasted, that their toxic-infused brains couldn’t even give them the signals to move their own bodies.

Working at the bar wasn’t your dream job but it’s not as if you had a better choice. It was either a bartender or a stripper. Both of them sounded equally bad, so you decided to opt for the slightly better one. If you could even say it like that.

It wasn’t a particularly ideal job but it was enough to get you by. It earned you enough money to buy you food and pay the rent at the motel you were staying at, it got you as many free drinks as you needed to help your mind escape from all your worries and you also got to meet some relatively cool people, so that was somewhat good. The working hours weren’t such a big of an issue either, you couldn’t really sleep anyway. So you were fine with it.

Most nights, the bar usually closed at around 3 am. There wasn’t a set rule on this; it usually depended on how many customers there were and how much they were drinking. Your boss had suggested that you shouldn't keep the bar open all night long, so you kinda decided that it was best to close a few hours after midnight. You weren’t complaining about this though; the sooner it closed, the more time you’d have to get high with your co-worker Renjun at the alleyway behind the bar.

Unfortunately, tonight luck wasn’t on your side, as a group of friends kept on drinking more and more as the hours passed by, which meant that you and Renjun had to keep the bar open until later. You weren’t opposed to this idea, it only meant that you would earn a little bit more money. It was Renjun who started complaining, so he decided to take action into his own hands and practically dragged the drunks out of the bar.

This is how you ended up cleaning up the place this late, rather this early in the morning, with your co-worker. The two of you were too tired to speak, so neither of you made any efforts to spark up a conversation. You both just attended to your respective tasks, waiting for a specific somebody to show up.

Luck surely wasn’t on your side tonight. He would usually show up at around 3:30 am, right after the bar closed, and he would have all the stuff ready, just at the exact moment you needed it. Why was he late today?

It didn’t take a genius to understand that Renjun was clearly affected by the lack of the stuff. He moved around the place nervously, tugging at his hair and stomping his foot rhythmically. He was in a desperate need of it, and you would honestly lie to yourself if you said you didn’t need it half as much as Renjun did.

You put the last clean glass on the shelf behind you and went over to the storage room to grab a broom, so that you could clean the floor a bit while Renjun was still wiping the bar counters. As soon as you closed the door of the storage room, the little bell that hung above the bar’s front door rang with a tinkle and soon after it followed the sound of the so familiar footsteps you were waiting for all night.

“Hey kids, Santa’s here,” his voice resonated in the empty room as he waved a small transparent plastic bag that looked white because of its content. Renjun threw the handkerchief he was holding to the other side of the counter and dramatically jumped over it to go and hug the male who just entered. All of that just at the sight of the clear plastic bag with the snowy content.

“Mark, what took you so long my guy, I’m literally a dead man walking! Give this beauty to me,” Renjun exclaimed and snatched the plastic bag straight out of Mark’s hand. Mark smirked at what Renjun said and immediately started grinning at the sight of the boy’s eagerness.

Renjun went to sit on the bar stool closer to him and placed the bag on top of the counter he had just wiped clean. With slender fingers, he opened the plastic bag and dredged some of the content on the counter. With nervousness in his movements, he set the bag aside and shuffled through his back pocket to find his ID card. He started scattering the white dust all over the counter before he gathered all of it in a straight line with the help of his ID card. When he was satisfied with the result, he put his ID card back into his pocket, lowered his head to the level that his nose touched the cold surface of the counter, took a deep breath and snorted the entire line of crack, the product going straight up into his nostrils.

Renjun blinked several times before he slowly lifted his head. He scrunched his nose and wiped it with the back of his hand, his drowsy eyes looking surprisingly bright considering his state. “Man, whoever hasn’t done crack, never, they haven’t known the beauty of life yet” he chuckled. Mark smirked at Renjun’s comment and you couldn’t help but shake your head amusingly, a small smile creeping up at your face.

Renjun took the plastic bag with the rest of the cocaine and put it in his pocket. “This baby’s for me, thank you,” he amused and turned his heel towards the storage room. “Don’t come look for me, I’ll be right here. If I take too long to come out, then you should be concerned,” he said and closed the storage room door behind him; a scene that was surprisingly quite familiar to you.

You then set the broom down and walked towards Mark. “Hey” you whispered and Mark greeted you back in a low husky voice. “What took you so long? We were expecting you to come earlier” you asked him.

Mark shrugged and leaned his elbow against the counter. “I came by at our usual meeting hour and saw that you guys were still open. I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me so I decided to drop by later,” he said and you nodded in understanding.

“You do have more of those plastic bags on you, don’t you?” you asked him and he chuckled. “Of course I do, pretty. Let’s go outside and treat ourselves a bit, shall we?” he suggested and you nodded again, walking beside him towards the alleyway behind the bar.

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @peachjaem00 @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @matchahyuck @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie

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#kflixnet #k-labels #mark smut #nct mark #nct smut #mark angst #nct fic #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct timestamps #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct 127 #nct dream #mark x reader #mark lee

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

2. "I walked the land telling whores and liars of the End to come. There are 9,855 days remaining."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Cool. I'm glad you joined us. Not a lot of money in doomcrying... Let's move on, shall we?"

This next row -- the one that wraps all the way around -- is your number of closed cases. *Closed* is good. It means finished. You've got, let's see…"

"Wow, more than 200!"

"Is that a lot?"

"I would have thought there'd be more."

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's *quite* a lot, even for someone who's been on the force for nearly two decades. Usually clearing more than 10 cases a year puts you in the 90th percentile of *all* RCM officers..."

"See, Kim? I *told* you I was a superstar cop!"

"I used to be good. That's some solace I guess. What's the last number?"

"I don't think I can ever *re-become* this person... What's the last number?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Call it what you want. You were a valuable member of your precinct. Now, let's look at the last row..."

"Right. Those are your confirmed kills. You've got precisely *three* perforations there."

"So I'm a killer..."

"I was expecting a higher number, honestly."

"That's not... too many."

KIM KITSURAGI - "For an RCM officer -- especially Precinct 41, which is in the Jamrock Quarter -- it's rather... tame. I mean that in a good way."

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - "What's it feel like to kill a man, Mr. McCoy?" a young woman asks the man across the desk from her...

Honestly, babe," says John McCoy, crossing his ankles over said desk, "I don't feel anything anymore. It's just like brushing my teeth -- I do it once or twice a week and don't really think about it." There's no trace of guilt in his voice.

KIM KITSURAGI - "There are certain officers who treat their kills like some kind of ghoulish game. If they do happen to *solve* a case it's usually by accident." It's obvious the lieutenant doesn't think very highly of these officers...

"But it seems as though you are, or at least *were*, one of the good ones. So we have that to be thankful for."

"Have you ever killed anyone, Kim?"

"How do you handle the strain?"

"Thanks for this." (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes," he says, declining to elaborate.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - It's not a problem for him to state it, however.

2. "How do you handle the strain?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Everyone has their own method of coping, some more effective, or self-destructive, than others..." He gives you a meaningful look.

"Personally, I find it helps to keep up a few hobbies."

"Like what?"

"Maybe I should find a hobby?"

"Hobbies are lame."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Oh, this and that. Let's not get into it now."

"Maybe I should find a hobby?"

KIM KITSURAGI - Why not gardening? You've already got the gloves..." He points to your yellow gardening gloves.

Oh yeah, we're still wearing those.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Medium: Success] - It's meant in earnest. Please don't mistake it for a jab.

3. "Thanks for this." (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant nods.

3. "Okay, let's go." [Put the ledger away.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Right. I'll go turn off the lights..." He presses a remote control on the key.

Task complete: Read the watermarks

+10 XP

TUTORIAL AGENT - You can now see your statistics on your JOURNAL page -- to the right of the task description.

Here are our statistics:

Superstar Cop - 4 Apocalypse Cop - 1 Sorry Cop - 6 Boring Cop - 0

Communism - 13 Fascist - 2 Ultraliberal - 0 Moralist - 1

Good cop/Bad cop - 6 Honour - 1

People killed - 3 Cases solved - 216 Years in Service - 18

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi

[cerastes]

AI is almost cool, but you're right. Right now the only way to actually make it worth your time is to have a small warehouse of machines working together to do anything and that is just way too privately owned and way too beneficial to an individual who obviously wants to use it for money.

If a library or museum had it and was running it on their collection that'd be an entirely different story. They'd probably be able to source their creations correctly too since they have that metadata in abundance. I wonder how Star Trek's holodecks handle that, since holodeck programming is pretty much the same thing as AI Prompt Based Generation.

Besides what I've already said about AI in regards to artistic integrity and how I do not trust techbros to harness any of this tech in any way that could prove altruistic and not aimed exclusively at making money and maybe even NFTs 2 - The Sequel, I do think it's important to point out that the technology behind it is amazing and the applications and implications of advancing AI technology are sincerely intriguing.

For example, with AI art, an animation team could easily and quickly produce in-between frames in key animation, that is, the transition frames and smear frames between more important shots. This would, if implemented properly, alleviate a significant load off the shoulders of animators, and we know animators can use all the help they can get nowadays, in an industry that becomes more and more demanding to its workforce and that is yet so immensely disrespected and underpaid.

An illustrator could also get a lot of reference for their own art. Anatomy, backgrounds, certain poses, objects at different angles, the applications really are there! A writer of a more visual disposition could easily generate a number of assets for internal, personal use only, to help visualize locales, characters, objects, and what have you. With a more specialized model, I believe even sculptors and other more hands-on and physical artforms could definitely benefit as well, especially when you consider the leaps and bounds in 3D printing.

My scathing criticism of AI 'artists' is one thing, because I do not for one second think of anyone as an artist by just putting in a prompt into an AI that then generates an image for them, and that will not change, you didn't create art, you simply used a tool, so don't call yourself an artist for that one, to whoever it may concern, but AI technology in itself is fascinating, and what frustrates me is not the fact that there's an AI that can make visuals easily -- that's honestly fascinating -- rather, it's the fact I do not at any point trust the tech industry to ever respect art in any capacity because they have a track record of not doing so, and the interest in creating an 'art AI' is wholly based on a thinly veiled desire to mass produce for the sake of raking in profits while -- and I insist, bear this in mind -- disguising it as an "accessible tool" that can make anyone an 'artist'.

We have to make sure we don't go durr hurr technology bad, Tesla was a witch, because it's easy to do so and I've seen some bad takes on that regard already, it's ultimately techbros and the tech industry that live on this hardlane bubble of "profit no matter what we destroy or defame". Most everything nowadays starts by techbros selling the ideal of "look how helpful this could be!" and getting a lot of attention on their product, and when it's ready for a stable release, they paygate it behind the kind of money only big private industries can afford, and fuck everyone else.

And hey, that's been a lot of the world of business for a long time, in many, many other regards, but if people expect artists not to make a fuss when techbros look at art and try that shit there, I have no idea what they expect. Which is wholly disrespectful, anyhow, because everyone loves art but hates artists for some reason. Not to sound like a cafe blog for a second, but I do need to point out that during the harshest parts of the pandemic, art is what people turned to in order to assuage themselves. I hope that knowledge stings whoever it may concern.

#zonebooth

[mysteryloversbookshelf]

“Happily Ever Aster”

What are some of your headcanons on how some of the characters lived happily ever after? We won’t know for sure until being mentioned offhand in future seasons but it’s still fun to come up with ideas. Here is how I vision some of their happy endings. I’m putting it behind the read more in case some people still haven’t seen the season finale yet

Grace and Hannah

It’ll be weird for a minute since Edgar is dead and as terrible as he was I’m sure they’ll still have to grieve him in some way. Once that passes I see them continuing to travel together and maybe Hannah working with Grace in her antique shop. Rather than another yurt, I could see them living in a cozy cottage surrounded by more psychotropic plants. Idk if they’ll marry, but I see them adopting a baby or maybe getting a sperm donor and their baby being weird af like a mini Wednesday Addams.

Feng and Vivian

After news of Edgar’s death breaks out and people check out Kyler’s videos from the weekend, I can see a lot of people flocking to try baobing for clout but falling in love with it. They’ll get a boost in sales and Feng will end up opening even more locations. Now that he has enough money to pay off debts and etc, I see him and Vivian traveling the world together and her teaching him how to live it up. He doesn’t have to play it safe anymore so I could see him and Vivian sending Grace and Zoë pics of them both skydiving and other thrill seeking tourist stuff. Maybe offscreen Aniq and Zoë asked Vivian to help choreograph the first dance at their wedding and it turned out amazing.

Travis

Since he became the house and beat Sebastian, he can afford to fly out and visit Weronika. Does anyone remember what he does for a living? I could see him feeling inspired at actually discovering the crypto scam and taking courses so he can be a legitimate detective. Maybe he will even create an agency to help other people that have been scammed out of their crypto.

Isabel

She may not have been able to hold Edgar accountable for drugging her but she’s at least finally free. Howie is a close friend but maybe they’ll become something more at some point. With her personality I don’t expect her and Hannah to ever have a perfect relationship, but after that moment they shared while telling the mind movie, maybe they can get to a decent place. Probably not though after how she treated Grace.

Sebastian

Yeah he lost a bunch of money and was fired by Isabel, but you can’t keep a scammer like him down. He’s either about to start running cons with his cousins again or he’s going to attach himself to a wealthy older lady like Isabel and live out the rest of her life in luxury before moving on to the next one.

Aniq and Zoë

When they go see Danner in the time jump, are the rings to show that they’ve already married or are they still engaged? Either way, I don’t care to see a wedding. We’ve already been there and done that with Grace even if it did end terribly. I’m fine with seeing hilarious wedding and honeymoon photos/videos and calling it a day. It’s too bad Yasper is in prison because he would have been a really fun best man. Imagine the wedding toast 😂

Danner

Assuming season three will be the afterparty for the premiere of her movie, I hope that the person killed isn’t Jaleel White. Danner has been through enough so that would suck to do that to her character when she finally found what she wants to do in life.

Ulysses

He obviously doesn’t deserve a happy ending after trying to kill Feng. It might be too much of fan service, but the idea of him being cellmates with Yasper and them both performing together for the other criminals is hilarious to me. Knowing him, he’d probably be using his knowledge from his travels to scam the other inmates into giving him money for food and etc.

What about you guys? It would be really cool to be able to compare these headcannons to what will actually be canon in the future seasons.

#the afterparty #the afterparty spoilers