#ANYWAYS HES GOT VERY FAMILY TV SHOW LINES AND I LOVE IT

[dhmis-autism]

trying harder to pay attention to yellows dialogue so i can write him better and. literally. love that thing he does where he talks like hes in a sitcom

( “What do you think it means to have a job?��� / ”Yeah, what an adventure. Yup,we really did have the laugh of our lives. But still, nice to be back at home,eh?”/ “Let’s go see this real family in action!” )

[husbandhoshi]

title: royally screwed [m]

pairing: joshua x f!reader

wc: 30.8k in total; part 1: 15.4k, part 2: 15.4k summary: between remembering last night’s party and pleasing your unrelenting family, you think being a princess is hard enough. then you’re thrust into an arranged marriage to royal darling joshua hong—straight-laced, infuriatingly obedient, and everything you’re not. pretending to be the perfect couple? impossible.   notes: romcom + smut (part 2), modern royalty!au in which yn is the princess of cotria/joshua the prince of acros (both fictional), enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, quarterlife crisis/coming of age, very very slow burn. lots of swearing, lots of alcohol, lots of feelings. smut tags: oral (m!receiving), mirror shenanigans, unprotected sex, softdom!shua, mating press, idk. they're in love your honor. [read part 1 here!] (please)

You decide June looks good on Acros. Unlike in Cotria, now sure to be perspiring with tourists, the downtown here is comfortable, inviting, even. At home, you’d be shoulder-to-shoulder with three other people right now. 

This is one of the things you like about this country: it seems to be intentionally idyllic. It’s becoming more clear to you that Joshua’s parents weren’t actually in need of anything from you other than a status boost. You suppose they’re learning the hard way what exactly that comes with.

Jeonghan’s car, or rather, the car Jeonghan happens to be in (he couldn’t drive his way out of a paper bag, try as he might), pulls up to the curb. He’s fresh off a stint of good press, meaning months of speeches, ribbon cutting, and run-ins with parliament and journalists and business moguls all vying for a bite of a future king. You’d add yourself to that list, but you know you’re at the back of the line—you practically live there now, but you’re not sure if things could have happened any other way. 

You watch him step out of the van, never windblown even though he likely just got off a flight. Always with a smile, too, one tired but recognizable, so different from the plasticky ones he wears on TV. 

The first thing he does when he gets out is throw his arms open for a bear hug. “Hey, cricket,” he says, voice wrought with jet-lag. “Missed you.” 

“Glad you had time for one more stop,” you murmur, squeezed into the million-thread count of his shirt. 

“I always have time for you,” he replies, which is decidedly untrue, but you don’t have it in you to say that. All you do lately is get into arguments, and you’re not looking to add your brother to your hit list. 

(He hugs Jihoon, too, since you all practically grew up together. Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me? Jeonghan jokes. Jihoon’s reply: It’s my gun. It’s always my gun.) 

The second thing he does is push the brim of your baseball cap down.

“The paps,” he warns, as if they were the boogeyman.  

“If they can’t recognize us, they need to get better at their job.” Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jeonghan, we’re all wearing matching hats.” 

No, you are not kidding. Jeonghan, blue, you, red, and Jihoon, green, a la The Powerpuff Girls, which was a joke you made about six years ago and could not let go of. 

“Whatever,” he laughs. “Aren’t you supposed to be showing me around? This is your domain now.” 

“Don’t get excited. I just got here.” 

“What do you need to go shopping for, anyway?” he asks, now walking side-by-side with you. 

“I ask that question every day,” Jihoon replies, glancing at Jeonghan as if to say Women, right?, save for the fact that the both of them have exactly zero game. 

“Somi’s birthday!” you exclaim, two ticks too loudly. “Stuff, I dunno. Just trying to get used to this place.” 

“This isn’t exactly Rodeo Drive, you know.” 

That, Jeonghan is right about. You’re sure there must be a shopping district somewhere in Acros, but definitely not here. Here, the streets are lined with dense cherry plum trees, wine-stained and fragrant. They frame driftwood-paneled shop windows housing kitschy art galleries, mom-and-pop bakeries, and patioed bistros with striped awnings. 

An elderly couple passes you. They smile and wave, visible even under the shade of their parasol, either blissfully unaware of your status or too wise to care. 

“I know,” you waver. “Whatever. I'll just get Yunjin to find me something for the party.” 

Your eye wanders to the jaunty facade of a music store. The sign flaunts handmade, cursive letters with a curly treble clef in the lacquer of old paint. In Cotria, the same sign would be neon, Hollywood-esque, vain. 

“Party?” 

“Let's go there,” you interrupt, hoping to run your big mouth over with some more talking. Of course Jeonghan wouldn’t be cool with any party, nonetheless the one Somi was planning on throwing, but, either by habit or wishful thinking, the news just tumbled right out of you. 

“Party?” Jeonghan repeats. He trails close after you, hoping to grab the door before you can. Such is what he had been taught, after all, which came more naturally than navigating big-brotherhood. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon shrugs, and opens the door before the both of you get there. You’ve trained him well. 

“It’s a small thing,” you tell him. “Close friends only.” It’s not technically a lie—small is relative, and it’s not your fault Somi has two hundred-some close friends.

Inside, you notice the shop is bigger than it looks from the outside. In the front, their nicest pianos: the glossy Yamahas, the baby grands. a lone drum set, on sale, the hi-hat sparkling under the LED lights. And finally, guitars hung from the wall like posters, some lime green and child-sized, others sanded down so the mahogany glows. 

“You already know what I’m going to say,” Jeonghan says, the lilt of his voice verging on not-so-casual. 

“Then don’t say it,” you reply flatly. “You went to those parties too, by the way.” 

“Used to, but—” Jeonghan sighs because he’s beat, and he knows it. 

You absentmindedly flip through a book of sheet music—Alfred's Essentials of Music Theory. behind it, 40 Taylor Swift Songs for Piano. 

“You’ve been good, I hope?” you cut in. “Not too tired?” 

“No,” Jeonghan says.  “I've been great. You?” 

You can’t read his expression. Old Jeonghan would tell you that he’s ready for a nap, that he hates sleeping on airplanes, that his hands still get sweaty when he gets in front of a crowd and the camera flash hurts his eyes. New Jeonghan never complains, either because of some drastic change in his character or because he feels like he can no longer complain to you. Both hurt your feelings in equal measures.

“I called, you know.” 

“I was busy, cricket.” He holds up a copy of Complete Advanced Piano Solos and wrinkles his nose. He's hoping you’d laugh with him about it, but you’ve already moved on, now fixated on the shining columns of electric guitars. “I wanted to ask about, you know, all the new stuff going on.” 

“You mean my arranged marriage?” The words feel stiff in your mouth. 

The arranged marriage I'm doing for you? I split my heart open for you, and that’s the thanks I get? 

You avoid Jihoon’s tentative glare to look at your noodled reflection in the polish of a red Fender. You think of Joshua, of a corny rendition of Here Comes The Sun and a pick between his teeth, cradling a guitar held by a linty, ten dollar strap. 

Then you think of what he said on that piano bench—that somehow he could have prevented this. Actually, this might have been all your fault. One too many shots, and you ended up setting feminism back five centuries. 

“Y-yeah.” You watch Jeonghan’s silhouette appear behind yours. “Has it been okay, at least?” 

Okay is a complicated word to use. It’s hard to say, even for you. 

It would certainly be TMI to tell Jeonghan that you’ve been kissing a lot more often. First it was under the flimsy guise of practice—We have to be ready for our dinner tomorrow, Joshua had said, to which you readily agreed. You couldn’t be the unwilling victim of another headline like KISS OR MISS! It would be terrible for your ego, even more so than your public image. 

Yesterday, though, as you were winding down for bed, Joshua had come out of the shower, damp white tee and all. A sorry, unspeakable part of you willed you to posit—Hey, maybe we need a refresher? You couldn’t even get halfway through your sentence. Hell, his glasses even came off.

You really only liked each other past 9 PM—you still couldn’t quite manage to get through a conversation like normal people. At this point, you had a 50/50 split in terms of who would cast the first terrible stone of petty disagreement. The only thing we have going for us is a dubious physical attraction, seemed like way more of a mouthful than okay, though. 

“Yeah, it’s been okay.” You look around. There's a decent amount of mediocre acoustic guitars on the back wall, more than enough to scratch the itch of someone too afraid to defile something more honorable. “Hey, don’t wait up for me. I think i might buy something.” 

—

[august 10, 2:57 pm; a dress fitting. 

In the ten-foot mirror of the boutique dressing room, you watch Yunjin yank the ties of your corset into a punishing knot. Your mother watches behind you, perched on the chaise. 

“Regal and radiant,” she reads aloud, the shiny cover of a magazine between her hands. “Finally, some good news.” 

“About you and Joshua?” Yunjin asks. 

“Ye–ow!” you wince. “Yeah. We went out to dinner yesterday.” 

The dinner: an exhausting, stuffy affair at an Italian restaurant with two Michelin stars. You came in a nice dress, Joshua in slacks and his best button-up. Smile, wave, a kiss on the cheek. You fed him a spoonful of dessert, a stiff, too-sweet panna cotta. It was either raspberry or strawberry—you were too distracted to really notice. Instead, you’d been practicing the steps, the motions of a true love. 

Should we hold hands over the table? Joshua had asked. 

I don't think we have to. Your hand had curled over the napkin on your lap, as if the thought of his touch physically stung. 

“This is a nice color,” your mother interrupts. She pinches the fabric of the skirt up at your waist, watching the way it bunches over your hips. “It's suitable.” 

Suitable. Right. The dress for your engagement ball, suitable. Just like you, newly suited for the engagement. 

You watch your image in the mirror. It’s taller, more regal, likely the product of Yunjin squeezing all the air out of you, Or worse, the penetrating gaze of your mother over the top of the tabloid.

You blink hard; you waver. ]

[august 20, 10:13 pm; a quiet return to acros after a day at the beach with somi and soonyoung. 

The castle sleeps, warm under the soft glow of candlelight on marble. You pad through the halls, carefully, as to avoid waking the entire country with the thwacks of your still-wet sandals. Hopefully Joshua is sleeping. He'd certainly ask questions, either about if bikini tops really need all that padding or what the SPF of your sunscreen was. 

You approach your room, where the lamplight from the cracked door oozes into the hallway. There's a determined rustling noise coming from the interior. Incriminating. Holding your breath, you cast a long glance into the thin slice of bedroom you can see from where you’re standing. 

There sits Joshua, cross-legged on the bed. Between his legs, the guitar you bought him. It must have finally shipped. He’s tied the gift ribbon it came with to the guitar strap, a woven linen with an offensively bright jacquard pattern. 

A hesitant A major chord, then G major, offkey. Hm, he hums aloud. Then you notice his phone propped on a pillow, a Youtube tutorial rumbling in the background. He tries the G major again. Better, he says, pumping a fist into the tired air. 

God, what a dork, you think. But you don’t walk away.] 

– 

From the garden, the Acrosian moon renders the city blue, like ink from a spilled well. 

It’s quiet out here, you notice. The forest spills into the sky, and the scent of roses lies heavy on your skin. You’re seated on the bench beneath the sculpted gazebo, a worthy centerpiece, and you revel in the coolness of the granite, the bated still of the air. You like this garden better than the one at home, although it’s entirely possible that you’ve been conditioned into hating all topiaries, no thanks to your parents. 

It's only when you hear the quiet click of footsteps behind you that you realize you’ve lost track of how long you’ve been outside. You’re now able to tell them apart–these, Joshua’s, steady and purposeful, sound like they have a heartbeat. 

You don’t turn around to greet him. “So you finally had enough, huh?” you ask instead, sliding to the left so he can sit beside you. 

“How'd you know?” he chuckles. 

“I'd like to think I know at least a little about you.” 

“I appreciate it,” is his reply, surprisingly warm.

Just a few hours earlier, your parents had come to visit. They cooed and giggled and connived alongside Joshua’s parents before launching into a very long, very serious discussion about your engagement ball. You’ve learned not to sweat the small stuff, the small stuff being the color of the napkins, the members of the string quartet, the hors d'oeuvres. But then it got weird: the symbolism of the color of your nail polish, which journalists were allowed to watch you make out, when and how Jeonghan was supposed to announce his presence during all of this. 

Then things got critical, which really sucked. No one was safe this time, not even Joshua. You lasted about an hour, Joshua about forty-five minutes more. You wonder what his breaking point was. Maybe it was his mother finally telling him off for having more than three buttons undone whenever he wore a dress shirt. 

In the silence, you feel an inexplicable peace. Maybe this is the only time you can get along; underneath the same moon, the same stars, the divide doesn’t feel quite as wide. You let your mind clear, first, past the fog of Somi’s birthday bash, glittery and blinding in your mind’s eye, past Jeonghan’s tired shoulders in the music store, past all the magazine covers and photo ops. The heavy reality feels heavier in your stomach, but you’re no longer as scared, although resignation looks like acceptance when you whittle it close enough to the bone. 

“Have you ever been in love before?” 

Joshua’s voice is so low, it takes you by surprise. You look to your side and see his eyes, shaded by the long curl of his lashes, trained on the sky, his expression unreadable. There’s a piercing sincerity to it, one you haven’t seen before. 

“No,” you reply, the answer coming to you faster than any regret ever could. “How could i?” 

“So all the boyfriends before, just…?” he trails off. He's referencing the magazines, all the covers with full size photos of you and the model of the month holding hands by the riviera, sharing a martini, kissing outside a nightclub. There are too many to remember, but you’re surprised he’s aware of any at all. 

“It was just stupid fun. I dunno. We hung out, had sex, whatever. It was never serious. I didn't tell them about anything at all; I was okay with them not really knowing me, at least, not as anything other than a party girl, the runaway princess, etcetera. We didn’t owe each other anything.” 

“Sounds lonely.” 

“Sometimes,” you answer. “But it was fun. I don't regret it. I just never saw room for them in all of this.” 

Joshua hums, low and deep. 

“And you?” you ask, incredulous. “In love?” 

“In university,” he says after a brief pause. “There was a girl. I think I loved her more than I had ever loved anything else before.” 

“What? Who?” you interrupt. “Do I know her?” 

“No.” Then, a quiet chuckle. “No one did. She was a civilian, a normal girl. She wanted to be a biologist, I think. it was either that, or a nurse. We snuck around a lot. Probably more than you did.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” 

“I told her I'd marry her. I thought if I wanted it enough, it would happen. I'd go to my parents, profess my love, and all our rules would fall away somehow. Just like that.” 

Suddenly, it feels like there is a gaping wound in your chest. Every new word seems to draw the bloody edges of your skin further apart. 

“Well, they didn’t,” Joshua continues. “I broke her heart. and I learned that all of this would never go away. Not for love, not for anything.” 

There is an impossible hollowness inside you. You imagine Joshua, twenty-one and bright-eyed at Cambridge, hiding beneath the arch of the cobblestone bridge, the long one behind the quad, to carve hearts into the limestone. There's a girl wrapped in his jacket, her laughter like bells. She draws him close, runs a delicate hand through his hair, a shorter cut, more sporty than it is now. The night is still just as kind, forgiving, as it is now, and the moon still round like a young pearl. 

“And that’s why you’re…you know.” You pause. The words all feel stuck to the roof of your mouth. “You like the rules.” 

“Because it would mean that it didn’t end in vain. That it wasn’t really my fault.” 

“You don’t want to mess up again. I get it.” 

“Yeah.” 

You notice your arms are touching, that they have been touching. Somehow, you don’t want to move away. 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask.

“Not sure.” Joshua sighs, having fully abandoned the filter he normally speaks to you through. “I don't think we’re so different. I don't know. It feels good to tell someone.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“No. I don't think I can.” 

“I'm sorry,” you swallow, feeling the familiar lump in your throat. 

“Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault.”

It’s getting cold, the twilight breeze now coming in from the sea. A silence, now sticky, caustic, settles between the two of you. The thought of Joshua, hopelessly in love, a line you hadn’t even dared to cross, seems to wind itself deep into your neurons. 

“No really,” you insist. “I'm sorry. I gave you a hard time—no, I've been giving you a hard time. I didn't know.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“What?” 

“Be nice to me. No one’s watching.” 

“I know,” you say, a foolish conviction rising in your stomach. You almost feel silly, juvenile, for never really baring your heart like how he had. You’re not sure which was worse. 

You turn to look at him, really look at him. He's framed by the haze of the violets, the gentle curtain of the willows. 

“Says the real you?” Joshua asks.

“Yup,” you laugh. “Usually is. You probably get the worst of it, to be honest.” 

“She’s not so bad.” He returns your gaze; it’s honest, unsearching. “According to the real me, by the way.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

There are no words left. In fact, nothing quite says more than the way you now sit together, hands close enough to touch, without quarrel, complaint, or a yearning to prove yourself to some invisible standard. Instead, you enjoy the quiet calm, the way it drapes itself across the garden, the city, the quick of your heart. Now that you think about it, it’s the first time you’ve been able to do this without feeling like you were putting on a show.

This time, you think it’s real when you lean against his shoulder, and he leans back, chasing your warmth.

And it certainly seems to stay real when your hands find each other. You realize he does it the same way every time—the gentle skim of his fingertips down your hand before your palms meet, gently, forthright. 

And it’s here, in the uncertain glow of the summer moon, where you think you’re the closest to ever knowing just what Joshua had been talking about earlier. 

His hand curls around your cheek, holding you, wanting to see you clearer still, and he kisses you. It's not the practiced motion of an ill-conceived love, nor a hungry, blind stumble in your unlit bedroom. No, this time, it's as if you are being drawn back, wonderfully, slowly. Joshua kisses you as if it's the first time, as if to undo all the other times.

And somehow, almost by magic, the fountain song and the phantom photographers, the parents and the press, the world and everything in it, finally draw quiet. 

–

“So,” Jihoon says, reloading his pistol. “You ok? Don’t you hate the range?” 

You push your earmuffs aside to hear him better. “What?” 

“I said, don’t you hate the range?” 

“Well,” you balk. Jihoon puts the gun down and leans against the booth, looking at you from behind the glare of his safety glasses. Behind him is the paper target of a man with five bullet holes through his head. “I think I've gotten used to it.” 

This is all true—you did hate the range, but it’s where you can always count on finding Jihoon on a Sunday afternoon. Better people went to church, but Jihoon preferred to terrorize the poor center circle of a bullseye. 

“Hm.” He picks up the pistol again, stares down its iron sights. “Somi need anything for her birthday?” 

“She needs a new man,” you reply, and Jihoon laughs. 

Bang. Bang. 

“But, no, I'm getting her that vintage Cartier watch she’s been wanting forever. They were auctioning it off in Paris.” 

“Right, since it’s time for her to get a new boyfriend,” Jihoon deadpans, although he can’t quite get it out before he chuckles. “What about Soonyoung?” 

“They cannot get together. You’re just being messy.” 

“Sure, I'm the messy one. Didn’t they sleep together?” 

“That was, like, two years ago. Drunk.” 

Bang. Then a click–the clip’s empty. “By the way—you decided if you’re going to Cotria this weekend? Jeonghan will be back again, you know.” 

You pause, watching Jihoon reload the magazine, shiny bullet by bullet. You definitely know Jeonghan’s coming home—minus all the time you spend on Find My Friends, you were always acutely aware of when he was in town. The real question is if you wanted to see him again. Usually, you’d count down the days, make plans at all your favorite restaurants, buy a bottle of cheap wine to split over a shitty Godzilla movie. That was when you still talked. 

The last time you saw him was when he visited you in Acros. After the music store, you milled around a couple shops, walked through an art gallery. (Remember when you got lost at the Prado? he had asked. You were staring at that painting with all the butts. 

Kinda, you had replied noncommittally. All Jeonghan did lately was start his sentences with remember, like he wanted you to forget who he was now.) 

“I dunno,” is what you land on. “I'm busy.” 

“Well, Jeonghan asked me.” Jihoon takes down his old target and sets up a fresh one, another formless, black silhouette. 

“Asked you what?”

“If I could ask you to come.” 

“Does Josh know?” 

“He actually already helped with arrangements for you to go back,” Jihoon replies, palming the gun again. “He said only if you wanted to, though.” 

The tightness in your chest seems to coil over itself once more. Joshua had asked you about Jeonghan over breakfast one morning, before handing you a coffee and a croissant to soften the blow. You had been talking a lot more lately, which, somehow, you didn’t mind. If he wasn’t making fun of you, he was actually a decent listener. 

You watch Jihoon steady his arms. 

Bang. Bang. Bang. 

–

Like all of your great ideas, it began in the back of a car. 

Surprising, maybe. Accidental? Never. 

You’re getting ahead of yourself, though. It really started earlier tonight, at the charity event you attended with Joshua. 

Lesser beings would blame the wine, a cheap chardonnay only fit for sorority girls on a Friday night. Naturally, you and Joshua were responsible for downing about half the bottle—a fun amount, you’d like to say, although you admit you were surprised at your date’s ability to hold his alcohol. 

You, however, can peg the real culprit: a reasonably slutty dress, removed from the annals of Somi’s closet, back when she was less of a Paris Hilton and more of a Princess Diana. 

The evidence: damning. As you were getting ready—Can you zip me up? you had asked Joshua, fiddling with the rollers in your hair, already a generous ten minutes late. Then the slow, lingering skim of his touch, molasses up the hollow of your spine. At dinner, a warm hand on your knee. You didn’t hang around much longer after that, but walking to the car was a wondrous excuse for the flat of his palm to find the small of your back, fondly, comfortably, as if you had known each other for years. 

Since you had spoken in the garden, certainly you had acted like more of a couple. It came more naturally, likely due to the fact that you had no idea if you were actually a couple or not. You suppose it doesn’t matter at the end of the day. Well—sort of.

Now, you’re just being obtuse. What you’re really trying to do is explain how your hand found its way down Joshua’s pants in the back of your limousine. And still, found is too generous of a word. But you digress. 

The short version: you kissed Joshua. Jihoon parked the car out back, you had gotten tired of Joshua glancing at you through the side of his eyes, and you kissed him. Regrettably, this hasn’t gotten boring yet. You enjoy the way he searches for your touch, the part of his soft lips. 

Sometime between the third and the tenth time your tongue found its way into Joshua’s mouth, Jihoon removed himself from the situation—he was always good at that part. Two wandering hands later, your palm skimmed over the front of Joshua’s slacks. No big deal, except he was half-hard and he moaned in your mouth like he was doing the ad-libs in a Cupcakke song. 

“Whoops,” you had babbled. This whole night, you’d been searching for the brakes on the clown car winding through the horny fog of your horrible, vexed mind. 

“Fuck, sorry,” Joshua replied just as quickly, the words seeming to slip back down his throat. 

Then you had stared at each other and blinked, hard, as if that would erase the fact that, one, the prince of Acros had just cursed approximately half an centimeter from your face, and two, you’d now crossed a bridge that could not be uncrossed. 

You could no longer lie to yourself about the fact that you are hopelessly attracted to Joshua. You don’t even know if you want to lie anymore. You still thought of the time you ran into him, birthday suit and all, all those weeks ago in the bathroom. And, yes, you had wondered how big he was, although you blame Somi for planting that evil idea in you. 

Hence, with God as your witness (since Jihoon was no longer there), you had said, “I can help, you know. If you want.” 

You didn’t expect Joshua to nod so quickly. Then again, you now know yourself to be a poor judge of most things, especially ones relating to whatever this is. 

“Do you want to?” he had asked, eyes fogged over. 

“Yes. really.” Then you stopped. “Is this your first—”

“No. Does it really seem like it?” 

Okay. You’ll have to unpack that later. 

So, finally, here you are. Somewhere along the line, your shame had fallen to the wayside, and a new desire now rocks you. 

“Could’ve just asked earlier,” you tease, thumbing the buckle of Joshua’s belt. 

“Should’ve known you’re not one for subtlety,” he laughs softly, his eyes fixed on how you undo the clasp. It’s a silly comment, but all the blood still rushes to your cheeks at the idea of him wanting you not just now, but all night. “Next time.” 

“Really now.” The button at his waistband proves difficult with your new nails, so you instead sit your hand on the tent in his pants, palm him over the fabric. “You’d let me do this in the washroom of a charity ball?”

Delightfully, you watch him squirm. He doesn’t fight you, instead, uses his hands to bring you closer so you can feel his voice on your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he replies. 

“His highness,” you say before returning to the wretched button, “Fooling around at a formal event? Scandalous.” 

“Says the walking scandal,” Joshua laughs again, nipping at your earlobe. Then a sigh, breathy and tortured, as you finally peel back his slacks. 

“Isn’t this about the time where you be quiet and let me do my thing?”

“Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, since you seem to like them so much.” 

He opens his mouth to complain, but you’ve beaten him to the punch. Skin meets skin; you watch his eyes flutter shut, the slow fall of his shoulders as he exhales. 

Fuck, you think to yourself. If that’s all it takes for him to get hard— you force the thought back to where it came from. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Already, you’re reveling in the lewd image before you: the nation’s darling prince, legs spread and slack-jawed in the back of a limo, dizzy at the thought of a pretty girl playing with his cock. 

Your hand wraps around his length, pulls it out of his briefs. Feeling the weight, heavy and warm on your palm, makes your skin prickle. He is big, but even if he wasn’t, the way he gasps into your ear when you start pumping him is enough to satisfy. 

You start slow, just to be a little mean. He's longer than you expected, you realize. A turn of the wrist at the base, a little more pressure, and you hear him groan, loudly, shamelessly, as he tips his head back. 

“Feels good?” you ask, voice lower than a whisper. You know it does—you’re not inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination, but something about turning the prince into putty makes the months of horrible foreplay worth it. 

“Yeah,” he says, part sigh. “Really good.” 

“Good.” Then you hold out your palm in front of his mouth. You tell yourself it’s a litmus test for his freak-o-meter, but there’s a part of you that wants to make this the best handjob of his short, unexciting life. 

First, he looks at you, wide eyes unblinking. There's already a flush, pretty and pink, across his cheeks, the column of his neck. Then, it clicks. He spits into your hand, and you watch it trail down the plush curve of his lips, his chin, the ridge of his adam’s apple. The color spreads to his ears; his mouth twists shyly. Oh, he looks perfect, maybe even more than perfect like this. 

As if drawn by a magnet, you kiss him, and your hand finds his cock again. The friction alone draws out a low whine from Joshua’s chest, enough for you to feel the sound on your own tongue. Emboldened, you pump faster, harder, loving the way his hips kick up to meet your touch. 

Still, he gives no indication that he’s close. Something tells you he has more stamina than you think, which surprises you. Thirty minutes ago, you thought he was a virgin. 

“Josh?” you murmur, your lips brushing over his. “Wanna taste you.” 

He meets your gaze, expression unreadable. You think maybe you’re moving too fast, that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary, until you feel the shadow of his hand move, first on your waist, then up the back of your neck. He gathers your hair in one hand, easily, as if he’s done this many a time before, and you get the message. 

You wet your lips, swollen at this point, and bow your head. You’re running on something crazier than adrenaline at this point—even seeing the bead of precum at his tip is making your jaw feel heavy. 

The first taste, always thrilling, sends sparks to your cunt. You seal your lips around his cockhead, feeling its weight on your greedy tongue, and he pulls your hair just enough to make you moan. 

“Were you thinking about doing this all night?” Joshua asks, voice deceptively innocent. 

You can’t answer. You don’t want to. He tastes good, he even fucking smells good, and you want him bad. Instead, you take him to the base, feel him bump against your palate as you try not to gag. You can’t fit him all the way, so your hands make up the slack. He's even bigger fully hard, and already, you feel the ache in your cheeks, your temples. 

“Fuck, you must have been.” A groan, low and slutty. “Doing so good for me.”

You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or if this is his version of dirty talk, but it’s working. His hand is gentle, restrained behind you, letting you lead. The worse part of you wonders what it would take for him to break, but that’s a project for another time. 

Honestly, he doesn’t need to do much—again and again, you chase the feeling of his cock deep in your throat, enough to bruise. You don’t even care if you gag around him; when you do, he pulls your hair back, just enough to make your scalp prickle wonderfully, seemingly oblivious to the fact that you like it. 

You feel heady with arousal. You start to wonder how he is in bed, if he’d hold your hair like that, run his mouth like he is now. He's vocal, more than anyone else you’ve been with, and every little noise goes straight to your core, makes your thighs squeeze together pathetically. By now, you’re sure you’ve ruined this set of panties. 

“ ‘m close,” he says between breaths. “You don’t have to—” 

Stupid, stupid boy, you think. You don’t think you’ve wanted to do anything more. So instead of answering, you look up at him, eyes big and watery, and you suck hard. with your tongue nestled underneath his cockhead, right by the vein, it’s almost too easy. 

He groans, loud, satisfied, and you feel his release fill your mouth. Even after swallowing, it’s enough to run down your chin, get your makeup all smudged, and you like it. If you weren’t in trouble already, you are now. 

“Ah, I made you a mess,” Joshua says, gravelly and intimate. With one hand, he takes the handkerchief out of his suit jacket and cradles your jaw with the other. “Hold still.” 

“You,” you manage after clearing your throat. “You don’t have to sacrifice your pocket square.” 

“Yes, I do,” he chuckles. He wipes the corners of your mouth, your aching chin, and it almost makes you cry. “You literally gave me head in the back of a car. The pocket square can go.” 

He draws you up to his chest so you can rest your head on him. There’s a warm, melty feeling between your ribs, minus what you had just swallowed. Inexplicably, even as the horny fog clears from your brain, you still want to be close, closer than close and then closer still. 

“Head? I don’t like hearing you use normal people slang.” You pout, and you feel his laugh radiate from beneath his skin. “Good head, at least?” 

“Oh, please. Better than good,” he answers. “You’re perfect. perfect.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you start. Then he shuts you up with his mouth over yours, and you forget to think about liking him, loving him, or marrying him—this, you think you can do. 

—

“We’re in Barcelona!” 

You’re greeted by a pocket sized Somi and Soonyoung as they grin at you from your phone screen. They look to be on the balcony of a hotel suite, both wearing their matching silk robes. 

“Wow,” you reply. “And where was my invite?” 

“We did invite you, bitch,” Somi says, pulling down her sunglasses to look at you. “You said you were busy.” 

“Well, I mean…” you uncap a bottle of nail polish. “That's not untrue.”

“The ocean needs you,” Soonyoung whines, clutching his chest. “We need you.” 

“I'm sorry! Josh and I have been doing engagement stuff.” 

“Josh? Since when were you on a nickname basis?” 

“Whatever,” you interrupt. “What are you guys gonna do today?” 

“Beach,” Soonyoung responds brightly, with Somi’s Don’t let her change the subject! loud in the background. 

To be honest, you don’t even know the answer to her question. It just sort of happened, which seems to be the new normal for you. You’re also trying to pull apart last night–the freak-o-meter test came back inconclusive, and, for some reason, Joshua fell asleep with his arm over your middle. (Actually, you can think of a few reasons why he did that, but you’re not really sure how to feel about any of them.) 

“Ugh, I miss you guys.” You wipe at your pinkie toe, having smudged the polish beyond repair. “Drink a little extra sangria for me. And by little, I mean a lot.”  

“You’re still coming to Somi’s birthday, right?” Soonyoung asks.

“Yes, of course she is,” Somi replies. “Unless you can’t. Which I totally understand.”

“I still can,” you lie. “It just has to be more low-key than usual.” 

“No paparazzi,” Somi says. “And I'll tell everyone to keep you on the down low. Super duper down low.” 

“No way.” Damn, you curse to yourself—you keep screwing up painting your big toe. “Seriously?”

“Anything for my queen,” she giggles. “Pitbull is also confirmed, by the way. Secret Pitbull now.” 

“Good, because that’s the only reason I’m coming.” 

“Boo, you whore.” Somi wrinkles her nose at you playfully. (Is she being serious? Soonyoung asks in the background.) “Also, I'm still waiting for my update on the whole prince thing. I've been very patient.”

“No updates. Nothing to report,” you insist. Frustratingly, your cheeks are hot, like you’re in secondary school all over again. 

“You fucked him, huh?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek. 

“Halfway. Maybe.” 

The combined sound of Somi and Soonyoung’s gasps rips apart your phone speakers, and you draw in a big breath. I did it for the plot doesn’t quite seem like the right justification, not like it used to be. The plot never used to involve the M word, love, or any sort of feelings at all. Now things are more confusing than late-stage Grey’s Anatomy, but good luck explaining that over the phone.

“So you do like him,” Soonyoung says, saucer eyes sparkly on-screen.

“I don't know,” you answer. It’s true, you don’t. To you, like was flirting over text and french kissing. Paradoxically, you had told Joshua all of that, and he still decided to do whatever he did to you on the ledge of the fountain all those days ago. It felt like he ate the heart right out of your chest. Then you had to go and suck his dick, which never made anything less complicated. 

“Oh please. Look at you,” Somi laughs. “Yeah, you do.” 

Fuck. You’ve smudged all the polish off your big toe again. 

– 

Not much surprises you these days, but you can’t say you were expecting to see your riding boots to be the first thing you see when you arrive home in Cotria. 

The second thing you see is Jeonghan, smiling at you in his big, stupid riding helmet, camo-printed because he bought it when he was 15 and his head never grew much bigger since. 

“For old times sake?” He then holds your own helmet up by the straps, and whatever twinge of annoyance you had felt earlier makes way for something softer, more forgiving. “Everything's set up outside.” 

It doesn’t take you much time to take him up on the offer. If anything, a long ride usually solves all your problems, and you definitely have problems that need solving. 

You saddle up in the stables, wordlessly, moved by habit. It seems to be the same for Jeonghan, too. Even Peanut acts like it hasn’t been years since he’s seen him, and he noses at the box of sugar cubes like he always does. Then again, horses don’t hold grudges, at least, not like you do. Even Joshua seemed more optimistic about this encounter than you did. 

“So you're back back,” you say, hooking your feet in the stirrups. “Or do you have more jet-setting to do?” 

“Back back,” Jeonghan replies. “Missed home too much.” 

He cocks his head towards the old riding trail, the one that loops the long way through the woods. The gesture is but a formality—it’s the only path you ever take. Still, you follow behind his horse, watching the beige swoosh of Peanut’s tail the same way you did when you were a little girl and things were far simpler than they are now. 

Under the cornflower sky of a near-autumn, the forest seems endless. A flock of geese split the sky in two; a warm breeze haunts the canopy, scattering the afternoon light. The dirt under you is soft, peaty from the morning rain. The hoofbeats are silent today. 

Jeonghan’s horse slows so that you ride side-by-side. 

“Hey, cricket?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I…” Jeonghan clears his throat and pauses, quite unlike him. “I wanted to come out here to talk.” 

“Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I…” Another pause. “I know things haven’t felt normal between us. For me, at least.” 

You almost drop the reins. A strange, floating feeling is set off in your body, like a flare. 

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was kinda hoping you would say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” A hard swallow. “I haven't really been the best brother, have I?” 

“Well, not…not really.” Quickly, frenetically, words bob up in the back of your mouth like you’re playing whack-a-mole. You had been waiting for this conversation to happen for so long, you realized you hadn’t planned much further than that. “It felt like you’d changed. A lot.” 

The wind feels like ribbons around you. You sway back and forth on Astrid, as if on a boat. 

“Was it the birthday party thing?” you ask. “I didn’t mean for it to…you know.” 

“Actually, that was my fault.” Jeonghan smiles bitterly. “I shouldn't have let Mom and Dad run me over like that. You should’ve been there. It was never really the same without you.” 

“Well, I should've come,” you admit. “So we both fucked up.” 

“Maybe,” he chuckles. “But the rest—definitely my fault. I made myself busy because I felt like I had to.” 

You’re growing to really hate that word. Jeonghan had to grow up, Joshua had to break up with his first love, you had to learn to pick up all the pieces of both of these things and try to fit them back into your life. 

“You didn’t even look back.” 

“I was scared, cricket. That if I kept looking back, I wouldn't be able to go forward. And I didn’t want to leave you behind, but I did. I think there was a happy middle somewhere, I just couldn’t find it.” 

“Jeonghan, you’re not really making sense right now,” you say, flattened, and he laughs. 

“I don't even know what I'm saying. I think I'm trying to say that I just want you to be happy. And that I'm sorry.” 

You bite your lip, as if to distract yourself from the strange pressure in your throat. You think you want to cry, but you’re not sure.

“But are you happy?” you ask. “With the coronation and everything? Did you even want this?” 

“I am, believe it or not. I know you don’t, but I'm not lying. Somewhere along the line, I started liking all of the talking, the traveling, the interviews. I like that I can help people. Some of it sucks, but not all of it.” He laughs, finally one that sounds like something you can remember. “Not everything you have to do is bad.” 

“Jeonghan, I'm getting married because of you. Because of this,” you say, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “I don't know how to do this. Any of this, not like you, not like Mom, or anyone.” 

This, in fact, does make Jeonghan stop. He stills and falls silent. At once, it seems the forest goes quiet too. 

“Don’t get married, then.” You don’t respond, so he says it again. “You don’t have to go through with it. Not for my sake, at least.” 

“What?” 

“I've been thinking about it ever since it happened. I can talk to everyone. You’d rather not be with the guy, right?”

Your tongue freezes in your mouth. You thought you had an answer, but it refuses to come out. 

“I have a duty to protect you, too. I’ll be fine with or without the press.” 

“Jeonghan,” you say quietly. Many moons ago, you would have laughed at the word duty, but instead, your stomach turns over and over and over. “You don’t have to.” 

“I want to,” is his simple answer. “I want to because I care about you. We can figure out the rest.” 

Something in your bones feels heavy. You’d also been waiting to hear those words, but it didn’t feel as freeing as you thought it would. You think about Joshua, his books and his perfectly placed bookmarks, his dumb dad jokes, the way he reaches for your hand, fingertips before palm. 

“Can I think about it?” 

“Of course. The engagement ball is probably happening either way, but it’s no big deal. Bigger engagements have been called off in far worse circumstances.” 

You’re having trouble believing him, but you have no other choice. Your life would certainly get a lot easier if everything were to just end. No more press releases, scripts, or awkward pictures. And no more worrying about if you could go out on the weekends or just how much of yourself to give up to make things work. 

“There's no rush.” He turns to look at you with the same wild shine in his eyes that you’d grown to miss so much. “Truce?”

That, somehow, you’re much happier to hear. You thought you’d be angrier than this, feel the usual metal-red of your gut, but all that’s left is a sobering feeling of relief, of home. At last, things feel close to normal. 

“Truce.” 

So you ride and ride, but a decision doesn’t come to you as easily as you thought. The sunset breaks; the word duty clings to you, unshakable, unrelenting. 

—

Somehow, you have gone full circle: at the end of a long day, you find yourself back at the piano, much like you did when you were seven, and the only thing you could do right was play Hot Cross Buns. 

Joshua had bought an unreasonable amount of music books, half guitar for him, half piano for you. You’d forgotten just how much you had liked playing until that night, many nights ago, when you and he had first muddled through that duet. 

Yesterday, you and your parents had tea at the waterfront before you had left the country. You were still undecided on the engagement; frustratingly, the needle hadn’t moved much in either direction since Jeonghan had raised his proposal to you. 

Congratulations, your mother had told you, right over her cup of oolong. 

For what? 

You’ve risen to the occasion. You’ve grown up. 

To you, this was not a compliment. You didn’t know what it was. You had twisted the ring on your finger, back and forth, a habit you picked up after all the time you spent wearing it. You wondered if somewhere, you had become exactly like Jeonghan, molded and spun into someone unrecognizable. Maybe that was why Joshua finally seemed to like you.

Have you practiced for your first dance? your father asked, and you no longer had time to worry about the state of your personality—you had other fires to put out. 

Really, that’s why you’re at the piano today. You thought you could play the damn tune and somehow remember all the ballroom dancing lessons you had taken when you were younger. Unsurprisingly, it hasn’t worked yet. 

There’s a knock at the doorframe. “Come in,” you say, already knowing that it’s Joshua. No one else does that; Jihoon barges in and just starts talking, and you can hear Joshua’s parents from a mile away because of all the jewelry they have on. 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to,” Joshua says. He leans against the frame of the piano, already dressed down for the night. 

“Nothing,” you reply. “Just magically hoping that I remember how to ballroom dance.” 

“Well, first things first, you can’t dance sitting down.” He chuckles, and you pull your lips tight. 

“I'm serious, Josh,” you whine. 

“You really don’t remember?” He gives you one of those looks, one that you’re quite used to now, with the judgmental wrinkle of the brow. “Didn’t you take lessons?” 

“Yeah, like…fifty million years ago.” 

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, grinning something foolish. “You don’t look a day over fifty.” Then he offers you his hand, which you take, and he easily pulls you from the bench. 

“Flattered,” you say, unable to push down the corners of your smile. “You gonna teach this senior citizen a few moves?” 

“Perhaps, as my good deed for the day.” He holds your hand, still firmly in his, and slides it up his arm to rest on his bicep. “Left hand here,” he tells you. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Not yet,” Joshua laughs. “The ballroom hold ring a bell?” His other hand finds your free one, and you interlace fingers simply, easily. Then, the warmth of a hand between your shoulder blades, one that draws you to his chest. 

“I think the only dancing I know how to do is half drunk in the dark. Can’t exactly throw it back on you in front of God and country.” 

Joshua grins, a big one, and you, traitorously, feel your cheeks get prickly. 

“I wouldn't want God looking at you like that,” he teases. 

“And country’s already seen it all.” 

“They should consider themselves very lucky, then.” His eyes meet yours, lit by the scattered light of the chandelier. “It's my turn to ask you to let me lead.” 

“Fine,” you pout, noticing that familiar warmth in your stomach. 

Joshua begins to count your steps off (one, two, three—ow, that’s my foot! —sorry!). He’s patient with you, more patient than you think you deserve. His hand seems to slot perfectly into the curve of your back; his gaze settles onto you in a way that makes your chest feel heavy, molten. 

“For someone who goes out so much, you have a terrible sense of rhythm,” Joshua says, teasing. 

“Hey,” you object. “Maybe I just have a bad teacher.” 

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” 

“Well, I'm not about to blame Britney Spears.” 

Joshua laughs, and the sound is so close to you, you can feel it on your skin. 

“I still think it’s the student’s fault.” 

“Me?!” Perfectly timed, your sock-clad feet collide (yours, striped and fuzzy, his, plain white). “Impossible.” 

“Too distracting,” he murmurs, and you notice how unfairly pretty his eyes are. “You bump into me, criticize me, you look at me like that…”

You feel dizzy. You don’t know what Joshua’s doing to you, but it’s mean. Your face is warm, and normally you’d blame it all on the alcohol but you haven’t had any. Worst of all, the soft part of you, the lizard-brained, impulsive part, can’t stop thinking about his lips and how they would feel on yours.

It’s a thought you don’t let linger, much like all of the other half-thoughts you have, and you kiss him, as if it was a reprieve from the terrible, horrible way he’s making you feel. (It isn’t.) 

“You talk too much,” you tell Joshua, right against his lips. “Not enough teaching.” 

“I'm putting you in remediation.” 

“Devastating.” 

“And giving you homework.” 

“Whatever shall I do?” 

Joshua answers that question for you. He kisses you, once, twice, still not enough, and, somehow, things feel more simple than they ever had before. 

—

Jihoon’s eyes are dark, dagger-sharp in the rearview mirror. 

“We’re coming up,” he says. “A few minutes out.” 

“I know,” you answer. Yunjin was successful, almost too successful, in her task of finding you an appropriately revealing dress for a newly engaged twenty-something at the party of the year. The filmy silk stretches around your thighs; the cowl neck flirts with the neckline of the bikini top you have on underneath. 

You look good, probably better than how you’ve looked in months. And yet, for some reason, you don’t feel good, at least, not how you’d thought you’d feel on the way to the only event you’d been looking forward to this year.

Somi’s gift rattles in your lap. It’s covered in this loud, hot pink wrapping paper unbecoming of something you had spent years tracking down on the antiques circuit. Normally, you’d have a laugh with Jihoon about it, maybe take some selfies in the car, but instead, you find yourself spinning your ring around your finger like you always seem to do these days.

You think of Jeonghan, of Joshua. Of course, what you do or don’t do on your best friend’s birthday is none of their business (although, very inconveniently, Jeonghan did have some event this weekend, and Joshua was traveling). But still, you think of the boldface headlines, the whispering gossip forums, the washed-out image of you in your little dress on the cover of a cheap magazine. This wasn’t exactly a tame party, and things weren’t just about you anymore, not like they used to be. 

Marking your arrival isn’t the GPS nor Jihoon, rather, it’s the firefly buzz of the cameras outside your limo as it’s forced to come to a stop. You squint, trying to see past the tint of your windows, and see Somi, radiant in her birthday tiara, as she pushes through the crowd. Behind her is the villa she rented, illuminated by pink and gold strobe lights. 

You crack open the car door and are met with a stifling deluge of camera flashes. Music pulses through the air, enough to feel beneath your heels. 

“Who's my favorite princess?” Somi exclaims, throwing her arms open. “You made it! you look hot.” 

“Not as hot as the birthday girl,” you reply, and you let her squeeze the air out of you in a wonderful, bone-crushing hug. “What's with all the cameras?” 

“Professional photographers. Just wanted something to remember the night by, because we are blacking out.” She giggles, already tipsy. “Come, come, we’re doing shots inside.” 

“Without me?” 

“We’ll catch you up.” 

Somi drags you by the hand through the sea of people, and you watch the cameras follow as they always do. She leads you up the stairs, underneath the towering balloon display, and into the foyer, already darkened, lit only by a disco ball chandelier and the neon backlights. 

You spot Soonyoung by a champagne tower that seems twice his size, as promised. He's in a leather jacket, no shirt under, and you watch his eyes light up as they meet yours. 

“A shot for her highness,” he shouts over the music. 

“I thought this was champagne.” 

“Tequila's close enough.” He laughs, eyes upturned, bright like gemstones. 

The first shot goes down easy. It always does. So does the second, unsurprisingly. Around the third is when Somi tells you that the strippers are coming in an hour. (—Strippers?! —Not everyone has a fiancé, you know.) 

And, just like that, you’re back to the beginning. It’s hard to think over the ridiculously good Kesha mix the DJ is playing, but, terribly, you think you’re starting to understand what Jeonghan was talking about. You’re still not sure how you feel about duty, responsibility, sacrifice, those heavy words that feel impossibly heavier in your mouth, but all you know is that, as much fun as you’re having now, it comes at a fair price. 

Somi told you nothing, no compromising pictures, no drama, would reach the press, but, as hard as she may try, you feel like enough people have laid eyes on you already that someone was bound to hear something. If not now, then definitely in a few hours when everyone’s on at least two and a half substances, and all bets are off.

Briefly, you recall your appearance at the derby, the memory like a shard of glass. You had stood guileless next to Joshua, tripping over your words because you hadn’t cared enough to read the damn briefing, and he had covered it up with a dad joke or two. Coming up with those abominations must have been hard enough for someone whose first book was the Oxford Dictionary, but you don’t even think God and all his angels could cover up this. More than that, the thought of everyone having to try anyway makes your gut twist. 

Someone tells you to smile for a selfie. You recognize her, but you don’t remember her name (Amelia or Alicia, one of Somi’s friend of a friends. On second glance, there are definitely more than 200 people here). Let's dance! another voice shouts in your ear. 

Your head hurts. You hate the idea that Jeonghan might be a little right, but you hate even more that you’re starting to agree with him. Maybe you need another shot. 

“Your gift,” you say, fighting over the chorus of Your Love Is My Drug. “Somi!” 

“Oh my god, you did not!” she squeals. She clasps her hands over yours, wrapped around the box, and draws them to her. “Let me take it to the table. I’ll meet you by the pool—oh, oh, there’s a hot dog stand out there too!”

“Actually,” you start. You’re not that drunk, not yet, but now you think you can feel the ground start to sway under you. It wouldn’t be too far a stretch to say that in half an hour, after a little time at the bar, you’d probably be spending the night, no question. “I think I have to run.”

“Aw, really?” Somi tilts her head and squints, as if trying to read your mind. 

“I am so sorry,” you tell her, as sincerely as one can over a pop song from the 2000s. “Swear I'll make it up to you.” 

“Life stuff, right?” 

“Yeah.”  

“It's ok,” she says. “Really really. Go home, figure your shit out, and we can have our own party.” 

She holds your joined hands to her heart. Whatever look you gave her, she believed. That, or she knows you better than you think. 

So you leave. The car ride home is silent. Jihoon doesn’t ask questions, and you can still hear the sound of the music ringing in your ears, on and on and on. 

—

You think the worst thing you’ve ever woken up to was the Crazy Frog ringtone of one of the guys you had slept with during university. 

The second worst has got to be five voice memos and three consecutive missed Facetime calls from Somi, which is the first thing you see upon opening your eyes. 

“Oh fuck,” you murmur, still coming to. Your bed is empty, but you see Joshua's suitcase in the corner of the room. He must have come home early this morning, while you were still sleeping. 

You crack open your text messages. 

–OH MY GOD.

–I AM SO SO SORRY. 

–someone must have gotten paid off for last night’s pictures…i had no idea i swear 

Then a voice memo. Then another voice memo. then a PopCrave Twitter screenshot: YOU CAN TAKE THE PRINCESS OUT OF THE PARTY–OR CAN YOU? followed by the worst, most incriminating photo of you and Soonyoung, arms linked, throwing back a shot. 

“No, no, no, no.” You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the stone-cold drop of your heart to your feet. “Fuck. Fuck.” 

Shit. You have to find Joshua and make it right. 

Somehow, you thought it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t care what did or didn’t get out as long as you were able to have a good time—you desperately search for that same feeling, knowing that it’s long, long gone. You don’t even think you truly ever believed that. 

You race down the palace hallways, ones that feel far more familiar than the rigid bastions they were when you first got here, but it’s Joshua who finds you before you find him. Or rather, it’s his voice you hear, trickling out from behind the library door. 

Suddenly, you’re five again, and you’re spying on Jeonghan talking to your parents. You peek through the crack of the doorframe. As Somi would say, nightmare blunt rotation: there stands Joshua, surrounded by both sets of parents, and no one looks happy. 

“We knew it,” another voice says—your mother. “We’re sorry, but we said this would happen.” 

“It’s no matter. There’s nothing left to do but call the engagement off.” 

The room goes quiet. You notice your hands are shaking. Your face feels numb.  

“You’re right. I don't think anyone’s getting what they want out of this, anyway.” 

“We’ll cancel the ball. There’s no way around it. Likely a relief, right, Joshua?” 

The moment seems to squirm, suspended in time. This is what you were waiting for, right? Your parents were right—no one wanted this anyway. You certainly didn’t, and now you get your get out of jail free card. On top of that, you get to hear what you’d been expecting all along—that Joshua never liked you, that this was fun and all, but he’s ready to stop playing pretend. 

“I…I disagree.” You freeze. “She's my fiancée. I made a commitment to her, and I'm not going to walk away.” 

“Joshua, my dear, this arrangement was never going to work. You can be honest.” 

This is the part where Joshua nods, does his perfectly symmetric smile, and agrees. This is what he does, what he’s been doing since forever. The story always ends the same way. That was the point. 

Instead: “I am being honest. Since when was it illegal to go to your best friend’s birthday party? I don't care what the rest of the world has to say. She’s not who they, or you, think she is.” Through the door-gap, you watch the pursed, resolute draw of Joshua’s lips. “You didn’t even invite her here to talk about her own engagement. You never once gave her a chance.” 

A stunned silence falls over the room. 

 “I’m sorry, but this is how I feel. I won't let you take another girl I love from me. Not again.” 

Your hand flies over your mouth, and something twists deep in you, like you’re drowning from the inside out. You can’t, won’t, believe what you just heard. That somehow, beyond all the fighting, the quiet nights, the snide remarks and the fake smiles, that Joshua loved you? Loved? Enough to say all that to the people that ruled his life with an iron fist? None of this made sense, but nothing’s made sense since you got here. 

The room erupts into noise, peals of voices all colliding into each other, and you do what you do best—you leave. 

—

No one talks about that morning. You don’t even think anyone knows you were there—part of you wishes that you actually weren’t, so you didn’t have all this on your mind. (Joshua, later that day: I got you something from Seoul. From his suitcase, a bottle of soju. Just kidding. Then a jade bracelet, so vibrant it looked like the ocean.) No one talked about Somi, and no one talked about the party. 

In fact, everyone had just rolled on as usual, all the way to the end of the week, the day of your engagement ball. Even you did. The word love felt so big, so burdensome, when Joshua had said it to his parents, but you didn't mind it on you.

The lingering touches, late night talks, tea made the way you like—nothing really had changed much since shit hit the fan, but now you knew that was the label. You guess that when you told Joshua you had never been in love before, you were really telling the truth. Either that, or he was just saying whatever the hell he needed to stop your engagement from imploding. 

Still, you found yourself still reaching for him. There was an unfamiliar comfort about his nearness. You woke up this morning cradled to his side, and, for once, it wasn’t a scene you wanted to erase. 

Now, your hairstylist hoses your blowout down with hairspray. You’d spent the better part of this morning sitting in different chairs, hair, makeup, nails. A part of you waits for the other shoe to drop: Joshua’s mother would waltz in and tell you, Surprise! You’re a single woman again, just as you should be. 

It never happens. You’re wrapped in various mists and creams and powders, all the while fielding all the same questions about the ball (—Excited for tonight? Yeah, of course. —How does it feel being the surprise couple of the year? Surprising.)

It’s not until Yunjin comes in, wheeling in your giant, sparkly engagement gown, all Italian lace and satin brocade, that things feel real. 

The dress itself is beautiful, a pale champagne number, gathered at the waist with a smattering of crystals down the train. Earlier, when you’d first tried it on, it looked like a costume fit for the girl playing wife. It was another smothering thing that hung on you, just like everything else in your life. 

Today, you watch your form tall in the mirror. You meet her eyes, her uncertain mouth. It’s you, for sure, but there’s a stillness about you that you can’t quite put a finger on. Maybe Joshua’s demeanor was contagious. 

Yunjin laces your bodice up, careful eyelet by eyelet—“You’re nervous, huh?” 

“Is it really that obvious?” 

She laughs. “Breathe. You’re not getting married. Not yet, at least.”

“Yunjin, isn’t it weird that no one has talked to me about Somi’s birthday? Everyone on the planet saw the leaks.” 

“Maybe they finally learned to stop giving a shit. You looked hot, you had a good time, end of story. It’s not like anyone died.” 

True. She grabs your shoulders and looks at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“Smile. Enjoy yourself. You look so, so beautiful.” You take a deep, soaking breath. You think about Joshua and all the sharp edges of his voice when he said he loved you. You had argued with him a lot, and you had never heard him like that. “You want this, right?” 

Well, when she puts it like that? Yeah, you do. You think you really do. 

—

The Great Hall is unrecognizable when you stand before it; the pink and white zinnias have been replaced by bouquets of calla lily and eucalyptus, the arched ceilings, once cold and imposing, now are bathed in the buttery, warm glow of candlelight. And the too-big space, usually empty, is now filled with partygoers, radiant in their best dress. 

You stand at the top of the grand staircase. A thrill, anxious and skittering, runs up your bones. You’re reminded of your last big public showing at the derby, of the sea of microphones and the eye of the camera and the crowd, all staring you down. 

You run through the cruel motions. First, a curtesy, so slow you think the audience can see you tremble. Then you take the first step down the stairs, and you watch them turn to you like the tanned halo-faces of sunflowers. 

There, in the center of the crowd stands Joshua, unwavering. He's wearing a deep blue tuxedo, unfairly flattering (though, the lone curl of hair falling into his eyes is strong competition). Meeting his gaze, you watch the corners of his mouth fold up in a way that reminds you to breathe. In, out. You’ve got this. 

Every step, you feel like you’re learning to walk for the first time, like you've lost your sea legs. Amongst the guests, you spot Jeonghan, next to him Jihoon. Then back to Joshua, like your eyes can’t stay away. He shoots you a covert thumbs up—you’d expect nothing less from the corniest man on Earth—but, nonetheless, it makes the long walk to the center of the room feel much shorter, despite the torture devices on your feet (Louboutins, not broken in).

One, two steps, and you’re face to face with your fiancé. Your heart is still racing, thrumming against the cage of your bodice like it's trying to escape. You’re sure the whole congregation could hear it if not for the quartet that’s come to life, now playing the opening notes of Blue Danube. 

Yes, that’s right, you tell yourself. You still have to dance in front of the whole fucking country. 

Before you crash out and make this a national emergency, you feel the warmth of Joshua’s touch. Fingertips before palm, always the same, he finds your hand, like he manages to do every single time. 

“I’ve got you,” he says, low enough for only you to hear. And for the first time, you believe him. 

—

Really, you could have gotten away with saying nothing. It would be much easier, to be honest. 

The ball had gone off without a hitch so far. The music was good, the food even better, and your parents were somehow silenced, instead opting to dance among the crowd like they were young again. Still, you can’t seem to put your mind at ease. With everything that had happened this week, Jeonghan’s offer only seemed to weigh heavier, more urgently upon you. And of course, there was the matter of Joshua choosing to opt into your engagement, against all odds. 

You realize you had gotten quite good at running away from things—your family, your responsibilities, the media, even Joshua—not knowing how to bear the weight of an impossible duty. Actually, you thought it was a royal failing until you had seen Joshua in the library that morning, jaw set, unbending. 

“Hey, Josh?” you ask, with a few bats of the eyelashes to soften the blow. 

He tilts his head in that way he does, and his gaze softens. Damn you, you think. Trying to distract me with those horrible, pretty eyes.  

“Can we talk about Sunday?” 

“What about Sunday?” He still looks confused, and you know the look well enough at this point to know he’s not faking it. 

“Um…Sunday morning. After the party,” you say slowly, as if giving yourself time to back out, just in case. “I heard you talking with our parents.” 

In an instant, his expression changes, and his eyebrows roll into their usual furrow. You feel his hand falter behind your shoulder blades. 

“Oh,” Joshua’s voice drops. “That.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say, realizing all you do is apologize. “It was supposed to be a small thing, no cameras, I barely even stayed—.”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Joshua interrupts. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” 

“I-I know,” you fib. The thing about pretending is that you’ve both become so good at it that you have trouble believing him. “It’s just that I also heard what…what you said.” 

Somehow, the wrinkle between his brows grows deeper. 

“I said a lot of things that morning.” 

You press your lips thin, feeling what you’re about to say ball up on your tongue. Easily, you could change the subject; you didn’t have to know anything, really, you could stay silent and let the world work around you, just as you had been taught. But you watch the soft twist of Joshua’s gaze, how he studies your expression, and you know you can’t go back to how things used to be. 

“You said you…” You take a hard swallow. All the blood in your body only wants to exist in the apples of your cheeks, away from your brain where you need it most. “You loved me.” 

At once, the world spins off-axis. You feel the anxious flutter of Joshua’s heart under your palm, and your own stomach flips in its cage. The L word coming out of your mouth seems ten-thousand times more ridiculous than anything he could say, probably because you can’t remember the last time you actually said it and it came out all wrong. 

He must feel the same way. For once, he can’t meet your eyes. His mouth opens and then closes, as if hoping to delete what you had just said. Maybe you would just keep dancing, beat by beat, and this would all go away.

Silly girl, you think, traitorously. Pick a damn side. Either he likes you or he doesn’t. The problem is that, somehow, both options hurt your feelings. 

“I mean, I totally get it if you just said it to keep up the act,” you cut in. “There are a lot of reasons why this is a good idea.” 

“The act?” 

“Well, yeah,” you reply. “Isn’t that what this is? Haven’t we just been lying to everyone? To ourselves?” 

Joshua’s hand at your waist stiffens before he draws you closer to him. You expect him to roll his eyes, do one of those exaggerated sighs that he does when you’re being difficult. 

Instead he leans in, close enough for you to feel his voice against your skin. 

“Do you think I was lying back there? Or now?” 

Your heart lurches. 

“I—no, but.” You pause. Every single coherent thought you’ve ever had scatters to the wind. “Well.” 

“Because I’m not,” Joshua says, this time, more softly. “Not about this. Or us.” 

“But how? Why?” You bite the inside of your cheek, feeling your chest swell in a way it never has before. “You’re perfect, and I'm…I’m me.” 

“That’s why,” he answers, simply. “You’re smart, funny, honest—sometimes too honest, even. You reminded me there was a better version of me that I had left behind. One that wasn’t perfect, but was happy.” 

He holds you in his gaze the same way he did in the garden, carved by moonlight. An impossible warmth fills your skin; at once, it feels like, in your vision, there is only him, like you're in a cartoon. 

“At the same time, I understand if—” Joshua starts. 

“I feel the same,” you blurt out. “I…I don’t know what this is, and I don’t think I ever really did, but I want to try.” 

You watch the surprise write itself all over his doe eyes, his unfairly rounded cheeks. From by the hors d'oeuvres, nosy Jeonghan peeks over the shoulder of another guest, already familiar with your lack of volume control. You watch him grin something stupid, triumphant. 

“You’re uptight, judgmental, and you make the worst jokes. But I…I think I might be falling for you too.” 

Saying it is like getting peeled back, terrible layer by layer, like you wrapped a hand around your heart and ripped it out your chest. And yet you’re glowing, newly-bitten with something that feels like freedom.  

“I thought you said I was perfect,” Joshua says, the pink of his lips already unraveling into a smile. This one, you think, finally reaches his eyes. 

“Shush, you—” And amongst a chorus of Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! (which would be, quite frankly, humiliating in any other scenario), you finally give in to your adoring public, and kiss. 

—

The walk back to your bedroom is a blur. All you remember are hands—hands on the small of your back, hands riding up the length of your thigh, hands in your hair, pulling at your roots. You remember hands, and the taste of Joshua’s mouth. 

It’s a walk you are not proud of, one that you’re glad happened in the dark, with all the guests gone home. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” Joshua says, pressed to the hollow of your neck as you fumble with the handle of the door to your room. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you. No one could.” 

Then his lips on yours, before you finally remember how to open a door. 

“Fuck, Josh,” you breathe between kisses, stumbling backwards until your back hits the vanity. “Need you, need you so bad.” 

He bites your lip, lets you sigh into his mouth. 

“Dress, off,” you tell him, and you lean forward on the table. Obediently, Joshua gets to work. His touch feels fiery, electric on your skin. 

In the mirror, you’re able to see the damage: your lipstick, smudged beyond repair, your blown-out pupils under your heavy lashes. There’s a hickey on your collarbone. 

“Now you have me wishing you'd wear one of those party dresses,” Joshua murmurs, still working at the lacing at your waist. “Far easier to take off.” 

“Really. The same ones that got me in big trouble with you lot?"

"For what it's worth," he replies, before kissing the back of your neck, then the ticklish space under your ear to make you laugh. "I always liked you in those. Even before we met." 

"No way." He’s finished with the lacing; your dress falls to your feet in a glorious heap of silk and lace, leaving you in your slip. Another kiss to your jaw, your cheek. "You hated them." 

"I almost bought a copy of Insider, the one with the cover of you in the black dress with the long sleeves." 

"Shut up," you laugh again, somewhere in between kisses. He’s talking about Soonyoung's New Year’s Eve party, a few years back. You were getting out the back of a cab, alcohol-flushed and on a phone call with God knows who. "I still have it, you know. I could wear it for you one of these days." 

"Don't tempt me." Joshua kneels, bending down to undo your heels. You feel him press his lips to the back of your knee, your thigh. “Friday. Dinner?” 

“Done.” 

Then he stands back to full height and leans into you, just so you can feel him. Like clockwork, your skin prickles wonderfully even just thinking about blowing him in the back of the limo, that night he had held you down on his cock. 

Joshua must see how you squeeze your legs together. He pushes your slip up over the curve of your ass; you feel the rough of his hands over your skin, over the flimsy lace you have on for underwear. Then, before you can say a word, he pulls the waistband back, meanly, enough to tug on the hood of your clit, and lets it snap back against your skin. 

“Oh, fuck,” you keen. You had no idea you were so sensitive, but Joshua’s foreplay game was way better than you thought. “Please, Shua.” 

“Oh? So you like when I'm a little mean?” 

You watch your face in the mirror flush pink, your bitten lips fall open in surprise. He pulls tight on your panties again, loving how your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Maybe.” You pause, humiliated. Fuck it, the cat’s already out of the bag. “Yeah.” 

Joshua’s hands are warm, so warm, when they peel the fabric down your trembling thighs. 

“Legs apart, darling,” he tells you, mouth pressed to your shoulder. “So you like to boss me around the castle, but now you want me to tell you what to do? Is that so?” 

Before you can answer, you feel a finger along the seam of your cunt. You can’t see Joshua’s face in the mirror, but you can sure see yours, and you hate how even the smallest of touches has you drooling. Then a touch to your swollen clit, just rough enough to draw a gasp from you. 

 “I-it’s different,” you protest. Two fingers now, both rolling your clit under them. A whimper tumbles out of your chest, and your hips seem to be moving on their own accord. “Didn’t know you had…experience.” 

“Still not sure what made you think otherwise.” A quiet chuckle, then the slow, agonizing push of one of his fingers inside you. “Fuck, you love that, huh? Soaking my hand.”

“Yeah…” The vanity table suddenly feels too crowded to support the weight of your body, especially like this, as Joshua continues to work your clit with his other digit. Feeling your body surge again with heat, you push aside your makeup bag, all your stupid little bottles, so you can prop yourself up on your arms.

Another finger, and your legs are shaking. Quickly, he seems to have figured out how to hit your g-spot every time, every pump of his hand knocking into you just the way you like.  

“I think it was how annoying you were that did you in,” you finally answer, trying your best to put up a fair fight. “Kinda detracts from your sex appeal.” 

“Annoying?” Joshua asks, right up against the shell of your ear. Like this, you can see him in the mirror, and it almost sends you over. The dark hair in his face, the insatiable look in his eyes. Then a third finger, and your eyes roll back. “Am I annoying you? Doesn’t really seem like it.” 

Your body answers for you. You feel yourself tighten around his fingers, fuck, you’re so close, you feel your head start to spin. You watch your reflection shake her head, glassy-eyed and dumb. 

He laughs cruelly. His free hand reaches up to find your tits, and, over the slip, he grabs one, rough like he’s a meaner man, like he’s slutting you out. 

At once, you feel the lightning heat of your release. You cry out, airy and high-pitched, and feel your body rock against Joshua’s as he pins you between himself and the vanity. 

“There you go,” he murmurs. His hand slows, letting you ride out your high, before he pulls out. “Wanted to do this ever since I kissed you that night.” 

“Which night?” you ask, catching your breath. A kiss to your shoulder blade, the nape of your neck. 

“The night you taught me to kiss. Or rather, tried to.” 

Ah, yes. The night you told him what Shark Tale was, and the night you made out for so long, you felt it on your lips in the morning. Dumb fucking Joshua, stupid and in love. The affection that surges through your body makes you mad. 

“You needed lessons.” 

“Not really, don’t you think?” 

“Bed. You’re talking too much,” you insist, turning around to see him. “Also, you’re wearing too much.” 

“Back to arguing with me, I see. Can’t stay away.” Joshua’s shit-eating grin prompts you to yank his tie impatiently, shutting him up. It comes off easily, just as his belt and the waistband of his slacks. (You weren’t about to let them best you a second time).

“Maybe ‘cause you find a way to be difficult about everything.” You wrinkle your nose, and Joshua’s grin only grows wider. “Don’t make me give you another order,” you warn, fully aware that since you guys got here, it’d been him doing the orders. 

You pull your slip over your head, now only in your bra, and lay back in the bed. You think of all the sleepless nights, then the ones spent talking, the ones in his arms. To think they would all culminate to this, to you now watching Joshua undo button by button with a desire unlike any other you’ve felt—it would almost be unbelievable if you weren’t doing it right now.

Like a striptease, you watch his chest peek out between the linen of his shirt. He's wearing a necklace today, one that settles meanly between his pecs. As he moves lower, you can’t help but notice the outline of his cock in his briefs, the spot of precum on the fabric. 

Traitorously, you feel your mouth water. The shirt comes off, and your lungs fill with another shaky breath. 

You know you’re both letting your freak flag fly (one of you more surprising than the other) but it’s in this moment, caught in the lamplight, that you realize how much things have really changed. Still, you’re not able to tell Joshua that this is the first time you’re sleeping with someone you might be in the L word with, but you think he sees it too, or at least, reads the look on your face. 

You feel the dip of the bed underneath as he joins you.

“Are you ok? That wasn’t too much, right?” 

“No, it was…it was good. really good,” you admit, feeling your face heat up again. “I just…I dunno. I like you a lot, that’s all.” 

“Hm?” 

“I—” you stutter, and your mouth freezes up again. “I said I like you a lot.” 

“Sorry, I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He sees the dismay on your face and smiles. “Hm…I like you an adequate amount. On a good day.” 

Against your will, you crack the fattest smile you think your body is capable of. “You are the worst. The absolute worst, and I still want you to fuck me.” 

Upon hearing this, Joshua does not waste time. That he does—it isn’t long before he has your knees hiked to your chest, cock between your pussy lips. 

“Say you want it,” he whispers. You feel the cold kiss of his chain on your chest, the slick rock of his length between your legs. He's so hard, so big, your cunt already aches at the thought of it. 

“Want it.” Your voice comes out small, breathy. You would fight back, but you’re realizing you quite like this side of him. “Please.” 

When the head of his cock presses into you, there is no hiding. Already, you moan, sweet and loud, feeling the familiar pressure in your gut. 

“K-keep going,” you babble. Fuck, he barely fit in your mouth and now he’s stuffing your cunt. You wrench your eyes shut, listening to him talk you through it (—Look at you taking me so well. Feels good, huh? You’re so beautiful. Honestly, it’s a miracle Joshua’s ex never had a royal baby with how much they must have fucked.) 

Your second orgasm comes quickly, not long after Joshua bottoms out. He groans right in the space where your neck meets your shoulder, and it’s the best noise you think you’ve heard in your life. 

The third comes slowly, more intensely. With your knees to your chest, you think you can feel Joshua all the way in your stomach. Every stroke fucks the sound out of you, his cockhead right up against your sweet spot as he fills you again and again. Sometime between orgasm two and three, he’s pulled your tits out from your bra, left marks across your chest. 

“Want you to touch yourself,” he tells you, voice low.

Mindlessly, you listen. One hand finds your nipple, the other your clit, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling. 

“F-feels good, Shua.” He enters you again, all the way, and the pleasure is white-hot. “O-oh, fuck,” you warble. 

“You’re so good at listening to me, you should do it all the time,” he murmurs. “There you go. Take it, take it, just like that. This must be what I have to do to get you to be nice, hm?” 

All you can do is stare up at him, positively fucked dumb, and take it, just as he told you to. One, two strokes, and you feel yourself get impossibly tight; “Fill me, need it, need it,” you whine, delirious. Everything from the look in his eyes, the flushed sweat over his brow, his collarbones to the way his expression responds with every word you say, makes you wonder why you wasted time fucking anyone else.

When he comes, he bites your shoulder, hard, and it’s what you need to follow soon after. You feel so fucking full, so satisfied, you think you could die happy here. 

Joshua flops down on the bed next to you, boneless. You think he’s about to say something akin to that you should have put a towel down, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls your body to him, lets you feel the warmth of his skin play against yours. 

He’s murmuring wonderful things to you, which you would gladly reciprocate if words weren’t coming to you one letter a minute. It’s not your fault though—you need to recover physically, emotionally, spiritually after getting the soul fucked out of you.

Then, “Me or you shower first?”

You groan as a response. 

“I’m serious.” 

“Together?” you offer weakly. 

“Fair chance we won’t just be showering then.” 

“Oh nooo.” 

That’s all Joshua needs to whisk you to the bathroom, where, indeed, he seems to be right yet again. 

—

The spring morning washes over Acros like a second skin. The birdsong rouses you; through the curtains comes sunlight from the garden, spackled on the wall as if spots on a doe. 

It’s been almost a year since your parents had told you that you were marrying Joshua Hong, prince of Acros. Six months since he had told you he had loved you. Two months since you and Jeonghan had pulled off your first joint production at the youth theater (a roaring success). One month since you were fully, fully moved in, Astrid and Jihoon included. 

After your engagement ball, you and Joshua had agreed to take it slow, as slow as two people who had very publicly announced their wedding could. But still, somehow your parents, both sets, could tolerate the two of you wanting to do things the right way. Perhaps they were still shocked things worked out as well as they did. 

“Morning,” you call out. The bed beside you is cold. “Josh?” 

You’re surprised he’s up. Last night, he went out with you, Somi, and Soonyoung. Somehow, he had drunk enough to get up and solo karaoke a Whitney Houston song, although you’re suspecting the alcohol was just a cover for his true intentions. 

Then you look out the window. You spot Joshua, seated on the bench overlooking the garden. This time of year, the roses are in full bloom, their bright heads reaching for the sky in brilliant red and gold. 

When you go to join him outside, he’s no longer at the bench. You actually don’t know where the fuck he went, but it’s no matter. Here, you’re able to appreciate the beauty of the season, the rolling green of the country you’re now calling home. 

It was also here where you had your first real conversation with Joshua without fighting, funnily enough. Now, you’d say the both of you were more agreeable, but that’d be a lie—somehow, you think you actually enjoy bickering with him, but that’s a conversation for another day. 

Behind you, someone (Joshua) clears his throat. 

“Now, what are you—” you say, spinning around. It was too damn early for games, but Joshua had no shortage of bad ideas. 

It’s then that you see Joshua behind you, on one knee. His smile tells you everything you have to know, and every thought in your mind freezes in an instant. 

“When I first saw you, I knew I would marry you,” he starts. That's a joke he’s probably been saving for months now, but instead of rolling your eyes, you can’t help but laugh, like you’re a broken soundboard. “No, really.” 

You stand there, immovable. Of course you had to be in your pajamas (his shirt and boxers, really), no makeup, hair untouched. And yet, you can’t imagine anything more perfect. 

“You drive me crazy,” Joshua continues. “In every way possible. I can't imagine life without your laugh, or your thinking face, or how you always need to have an answer for everything.” 

He produces a small box. It’s different from the first one, the one he used all those months ago when nothing mattered. Inside it, a new ring, something far simpler and more beautiful.

Joshua says your name, wonderful and reverent in his mouth. “Darling princess of Cotria, I'm asking you to marry me. Again.” 

And you say yes, for the very first time.

[END]

[uniquexusposts]

But they still cheated | M. Verstappen (3)

Summary: Y/n finds out about a massive family drama; a cheating scandal. When she is lost, Max comforts her

Part 1 Part 2

The car pulled up to the grand hotel, its façade glowing in soft gold light against the Monaco evening. The charity gala was already buzzing, with photographers lining the red carpet and an endless sea of elegantly dressed guests streaming inside.

Y/n checked her clutch for the hundredth time and sighed nervously, watching as her dad stepped out first, his ever-present charm lighting up his face as he greeted the cameras. “Alright, kids,” he said over his shoulder, “let’s give them a show.”

Leon rolled his eyes but stepped out next, his usual relaxed demeanour giving way to a polished confidence. Y/n hesitated for a moment, the weight of the evening pressing down on her chest. Then, with a deep breath, she slid out of the car, the bright flashes instantly assaulting her senses.

They posed together as a family, their smiles practiced and perfect. Y/n’s dad was known as a famous journalist and later turned into a TV personality, who was very loved by the audience. Y/n and Leon were also known by the audience, since they had a reality TV show. Y/n stayed more in the background of the show, but the people knew her. Y/n’s dad cracked a joke that made the photographers laugh, easing the tension momentarily. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being under a microscope, every move scrutinised, every glance analysed.

“You’re doing great,” Leon muttered to her as they moved inside. She nodded, forcing a smile, but her stomach churned. “If you need anything, come to me, okay? We can leave whenever you want.” 

“It’s not necessary,” she whispered. 

Once inside, the sensory overload only intensified. The crowd was dense, the room warm, and the laughter and conversations merged into an overwhelming cacophony. Her dad and Leon immediately began mingling, slipping into conversations with ease. Y/n tried to follow, pasting on a polite smile as introductions were made, but her chest felt tight, and her hands couldn’t stay still.

A woman approached her, all smiles and sparkling jewels. “It’s so wonderful to see your family out and about again,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sincerity. “The media’s been relentless, hasn’t it? How are you holding up?”

Y/n’s smile faltered. “I… we’re doing fine. Thank you for asking.”

“Will there be a new season of your show soon? Will the drama be in it?”

Y/n’s lips parted, not knowing how the respond to the questions. “Uh… I… The filming is on a break until further notice.”

The woman nodded, clearly fishing for more, but Y/n excused herself before the questions could continue. Her heart was pounding, and the room felt unbearably hot. She weaved through the crowd, the noise growing louder, the lights brighter, until she stumbled into a quiet hallway, gasping for air.

She wasn’t ready for this. If no one asked about the situation, it would be fine, but of course, everyone wanted to know everything about it. The media turned their situation upside down, making assumptions. And once they spotted Bianca and Patrick walking, hand in hand, in a baby store, hell broke loose. This might be the biggest media breakup and plot twist of the year. Bianca and Patrick got cancelled, Y/n, het brother and her father received a lot of love and support. 

Once she walked to the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, closed the toilet seat and sat down on it. Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing. The gala’s noise seemed to echo in her head, every laugh and clink of glass a hammer against her skull. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears came anyway, hot and unstoppable.

Do not cry. Do not ruin your makeup. 

Y/n stayed in the stall, her breathing slowing as she tried to steady herself. The world outside the bathroom felt like an entirely different reality; loud, demanding, and relentless. In here, the quiet wrapped around her like a fragile cocoon, offering her a moment of peace she desperately needed.

Minutes passed, though it felt like hours. Finally, she stood, smoothing out her dress and checking her reflection in the mirror. Her makeup was miraculously intact, but her eyes were a little red, her expression strained. 

She unlocked the bathroom door and stepped outside. As she closed the door behind her, her eyes fell on someone who sat on the couch in the hallway. The man looked up, his brow furrowed with concern. Y/n plastered a smile on her face. 

“Hi,” she greeted him and walked towards him. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Are you okay?” 

A frown formed on her face, but then she realised he was also invited to this gala, and that he was not just here for only here. Selfish. “Yeah, yes, I’m fine,” she nodded. 

“How was your mental breakdown in there?” The question was direct, but what else could she expect from Max? 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” she replied and put up her thumb. 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as he leaned back on the couch. “Gorgeous, huh? Glad to hear it was a showstopper.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. Leave it to Max to diffuse her tension with humour. She sat down next to him, took a deep breath and looked at him. “Seriously, though, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside, mingling with all the important people?”

He shrugged, his expression softening. “Not really my scene. Plus, I saw you dart out, and you didn’t look like you were heading to make a phone call.”

“Fair,” she mumbled. “It was just… overwhelming in there. Too many questions, too many eyes.”

Max nodded, his eyes steady on hers. “Yeah, I figured. That’s why I waited. Thought you might need someone to talk to - or at least someone to drag you out of here if you wanted to leave.”

Her gaze flickered to the grand ballroom door at the end of the hall. The idea of going back in felt suffocating. “I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

“Then don’t go back,” Max said simply, standing and slipping his hands into his pockets. “Let’s leave. I’ll take you home.”

She blinked at him, surprised by how easily he offered an escape. “You don’t have to do that. I can find a way-”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his tone firm but not overbearing. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

Her lips parted as she searched for an argument, but none came. She was tired, her shoulders heavy with the weight of the evening. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice soft.

Max nodded, his expression resolute. “Good. Let me text Leon and your dad, so they don’t freak out.”

While he pulled out his phone, Y/n got up and stretched her back, watching him type. She felt a twinge of guilt for leaving her family behind, but the thought of Max’s quiet, calming presence was far more appealing than the chaos inside. But then, because of her, he was willing to leave to bring her home.

Once he was done, he looked at her. He stuck out his hand and only started to walk once she hold his hand. They slipped out of the hotel, taking the back entrance to avoid the press. His car got driven to the back of the entrance. Max gave the guy a small tip. 

As he opened the car door for her, she hesitated. “Thank you,” she said softly, meeting his gaze. “For…” She took a pause, trying to find the right words. “Everything.”

He smiled, a faint curve of his lips that warmed her. “Always.”

The ride back to her apartment was quiet, the low hum of the car engine filling the space. Y/n looked outside, watching the glow of Monaco’s city lights blur past. She felt drained, her thoughts tangled and heavy, but the steady presence of Max beside her was grounding.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the console. His posture was relaxed, but she could tell he was keeping an eye on her, stealing glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

When they reached the apartment, Max parked the car in front of the entrance and turned off the engine. He glanced at her, his expression soft but unreadable under the dim glow of the streetlights.

“Here we are,” he said gently.

Y/n bit her lip to not make a stupid comment, now was not the time. “Thank you,” she said and opened the door. “I really appreciate everything you have done for me,” she mentioned and looked over her shoulder. 

“You’ve thanked me enough already,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “That’s what friends do.” He cleared his throat. “Can I maybe use your bathroom?”

“Yes, of course,” she answered and got out of the car. 

They made their way up to her apartment, the elevator ride filled with a comfortable silence. Once inside, Y/n kicked off her shoes and let out a sigh of relief. As she walked inside, he heard Max walking to the toilet. Y/n put her clutch on the dining table and turned on the oven, to preheat it for the snacks she grabbed from the freezer. 

Y/n moved quietly around her kitchen, the clinking of trays and the hum of the oven filling the apartment. She was grateful for the few moments to herself, giving her a chance to gather her thoughts. Tonight had been overwhelming, but knowing Max was there somehow made it easier to bear.

When Max emerged from the bathroom, he found her leaning against the counter, her arms crossed as she stared at the oven timer counting down. He washed his hands and took off the bow, opening the first few buttons of his shirt. 

“Do you want to stay a bit longer? It’s a bittergarnituur. It’s from the oven, not a deep fryer, though,” she offered. 

His jaw dropped and he gasped dramatically, making things more dramatic. “How can I say no to a bittergarnituur?” He smirked. “How even did you get it here?” Bittergarnituur was a typical Dutch snack consisting of a combination of fried meat and cheese. 

“I have my ways,” she smiled. “At home, at dad’s, we have an entire freezer just for Dutch snacks. Highly recommend that.”

Max laughed. “And to think that your dad isn’t even Dutch at all.”

“Yeah, but somehow the bittergarnituur stuck to him.”

Her dad was Irish and her mother was Dutch. 

After a few minutes, the snacks were ready and they sat down at the dining table, enjoying the Dutch snacks that reminded them of their childhood. Especially when taking a bite of the bitterbal, way too hot, and gasping for cool air to cool it down. They luckily could laugh about it. 

“Do you have a busy week coming up?” Max curiously asked when dipping a snack in curry sauce. 

“Yeah, but then I have a long weekend off,” she mentioned. “Two early morning shifts and three evening shifts.”

He nodded. “You know what I like about you: you have a degree in communications and you work on the platform at the airport, just living life, doing what you love instead what is planned our for you.”

A smile of appreciation grew on her face. “Why would I want to work in a sector that doesn’t want to hire me?” She shrugged. “It isn’t glamorous, but at least I have fun, I earn enough money and I have the opportunity to start a new study next year.”

“Oh? For what?” 

“Air traffic controller.”

The corners of Max’ mouth curled up and he raised his hand. “You go, Y/n/n!” He held her hand for a couple of seconds when she gave him a high-five. The shy, but proud smile on Y/n’s face brought Max joy; it was the first bright smile he saw in weeks. “That is amazing.”

Y/n felt a blush creep up her neck at his enthusiastic response, but she couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across her face. “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft but filled with gratitude. “I don’t want to ruin the vibe, but do you know what Patrick said?”

Max tilted his head, his expression instantly shifting to concern. “What did he say?”

Y/n sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a napkin. “He told me that I’m wasting my potential. That working at the airport is beneath me, and I should be doing something more… prestigious.” She mimicked his tone, her voice dripping with disdain.

Max’s brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “That’s fucking ridiculous. Who is he to decide what’s right for you?” He sighed. “Jesus, what a dickhead. Y/n, with all due respect, you’re better off without him.”

Y/n blinked at Max’s blunt response, a little startled but not entirely surprised. He always had a way of cutting through the noise. “Yeah,” she said softly, her voice wavering. “It’s just… hard, you know? Hearing it from someone you trusted.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her, his expression serious. “I get that,” he said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But trust me when I say that anyone who can’t see how incredible you are doesn’t deserve you. Patrick’s loss is… someone else’s gain.”

She tilted her head, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, his fingers drumming lightly on the table before he let out a quiet laugh, almost self-deprecating. “I mean, someone who sees you for who you really are. Not for what they want you to be or what they think you should be doing.” He paused, his gaze locking with hers. “Someone who knows how lucky they had be to have you in their life.”

Her breath caught, the weight of his words sinking in as a warmth spread through her chest. She tried to find something to say, but nothing came out.

He leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a small, almost shy smile. “Look, all I’m saying is… you deserve better than Patrick. Way better.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as his words lingered between them. It wasn’t a direct confession, but the way he looked at her; the softness in his eyes, the quiet certainty in his voice, made it feel like more.

Y/n cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus on the moment rather than overthinking his words. “Well,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, “I guess that means I’ll just have to keep eating bitterballen with you until I figure it out.”

Max chuckled, the tension breaking as he grabbed another snack from the plate. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

But as they continued eating, their laughter filling the room, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. And when Max’s gaze lingered on hers for a beat too long, she wondered if he felt it too.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @ironmaiden1313 @blodwyn4u @sltwins @heart-trees @npcmia @llando4norris

[pinazee]

An Evening With Mr. Yang

In the infamous words of one Shane Madej:

Who doesn’t love this episode? Are you kidding me?!?!?! The tension is great, the acting is great, Mary Lightly is so much fun, ALLY SHEEDY! There are so many great things in this ep i got a bit overwhelmed haha

Mary Lightly is an amazing character! Jimmi Simpson is such a great actor that i started watching films/ tv shows because he was in them. Like, i watched Westworld just because he was in it (well, and also because james marsden was in it and i love him as well) and he did PHENOMENAL in the black mirror episode the USS Calister! With Cristin Milioti??? Its my favorite black mirror episode (cause I’m also a star trek nerd. That ep was tailored to me specifically)…i went on a bit of a tangent. Anyways, Mary Lightly is one of the top guest characters in all of Psych hands down.

Apparently Yang struck in 95, and we know shawn graduated in 96, so we know in 95 super cop Henry was still a detective. Which begs the question, why wasn’t he chosen by yang?? Im so curious what happened the first time that 6 people died. Was he originally supposed to have been chosen by yang but it was kept secret for some reason?? Ooooo or what if henry had been chosen originally but refused to play the game because he didn’t want yang to come after his family so yang had to go with another cop or simply killed ppl because he refused so henry holds some guilt for those deaths too and thats the real reason he quit??? Or maybe because his marriage was on the brink of collapse henry wasn’t at the top of his game when yang came around. Mmm grasping at straws i suppose, but really though, he should have been chosen (and ill discuss yang more as we get through the trilogy).

Maddy is the worst lol why is she so bad at communicating with her own child??? Shes a psychologist!

I have to call this out because it makes me cringe but bernsens line reading here was not great haha

James though, man he killed it in this! It was understated and heart breaking at the same time!

And Ally Sheedy was in what, like, less than 5 minutes of the whole episode, but goddamn she made an impression! I mean, what an amazing introduction to a character! I have endless praise for this whole scene with her and shawn! What a freaking get.

Lastly, juliets confession. What a great scene too! I like that she called out her sending mixed signals (i almost pointed that out earlier in the season) because uh, yeah, she was confused and thats okay. And like i mentioned before, if im in juliets position id be confused too. She doesn’t know hes a fake yet so all she sees is a highly effective goofball which can be fun, but yeah, maybe not the best if you need someone reliable- which she does considering who her dad is. But this really is terrible timing lol like, bro just saved his mom from being killed by a serial killer and having the most stressful 24 ish hours of his life and shes like, you know what he needs? Romance. (Btw she kind of framed it like, you deserve a treat, i.e me, which in my world means hanky panky lol)

I thought the kiss on the cheek was very sweet (though kind of messed up since hes literally on a date with someone else haha)

What more can i say? Its a near perfect episode and a great introduction to a great killer with a memorable side character and a solid mystery. Gus was actually solving quite a bit of it too so major kudos to him. All around fantastic episode! So uh, yeah 👍

[justminawrites]

None of you understand Amber Bennett: She's just a girl, your honour. A review of the show writers' least favourite love story from Invincible season 1.

Now let me just preface this by saying I have 2 points to make. Just two, very long, super rambly points that does have mild spoilers for Invincible season 2. Read at your own risk.

Point 1: Amber isn't "understanding" enough is utter bullshit.

There’s no indication that civilians outside of the ones associated with the GDA have any idea how brutal fights are for superheroes. Amber quite literally has no idea what the hell Mark is going through, even after the superhero reveal. The only thing she has a smidgeon of understanding of is his dad beating his ass on live TV. And even that is a heavy maybe because we don’t know how much of the fight the cameras could cover and how much was broadcast to the general public. 

Point 2: Amber’s dated Losers before.

This is stated explicitly in canon, she's “been down that road." Furthermore, she’s also the daughter of a single-parent household. She used to hang out a community centre as a kid because her mom did late hours. Daddy Issues anyone? She’s got a lot of her own problems that we never get to unpack or linger on because the writing decided she wasn’t going to end up with Mark. 

What if she’d already dated an absolute bastard before Mark? Someone who seemed sweet and genuine at first, but then he started slacking. He’d be late to dates, stop taking an interest in anything she did, and just never show up for her in any way that mattered. Amber would make up excuses with her friends and family, oh he’s busy, he’s studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it. 

Her friends and family don’t believe her completely but they humor her because she really seems to like him. And the ex-boyfriend isn’t a douchebag the whole time.. he brings gifts to make up for being late, he plies and pacifies her with honeyed words and promises to be better.

But each time the lies get more and more difficult to believe. Traffic and science projects, traffic and science projects, even when he shows up smelling like weed and alcohol. Her friends and family give her tight-lipped smiles when her ex-boyfriend gives her sloppy kisses and proclaims over and over “She’s too good for me, this one.”

She tries to be empathetic, she tries to be understanding when they’re alone, he can tell her what it is that’s wrong. But every-time she brings up giving them some space, he takes it as an indication of her not believing him and he guilts her with one sob story or another— she knows him, he was so gentle and respectful before they started dating, does she really think he’d do this to her if he didn’t have a good reason? Just a masterclass in gaslighting. So she gives him a second chance, third chance, fourth even. 

But then he begins cheating on her. Whenever she confronts him about it, he plays victim and accuses her of being “crazy” even though the entire school knows otherwise. She catches him one fine day, and dumps him on the spot. For a short while, Amber’s very proud of this but as time passes she starts to feel extremely embarrassed that it took that long for her to catch on. 

No one blames her, of course, but they all say something along the lines of “We never liked him anyway” which makes Amber doubt the perception of him she had. She internalises their support as a failing on her part to be vigilant, she didn’t want to end up making the same mistakes as her mom, after all. 

Amber becomes guarded. She doesn’t entertain male attention (from Todd, for example) but then she finds out resident wimp Mark Grayson takes a beating for her and she feels bad. 

So she gives him a chance. Mark was a nonissue, a nobody with no track record of being amazing or awful, just an in-between, normal guy who was maybe a little soft spoken and needed to stand up for himself more. 

But every time they try to hang out, something comes in between them. The excuses are laughably obvious this time and Amber is caught between trying to understand if Mark Grayson is trying to let her down easy because he’s not interested or if he’s just another douchebag taking her for a ride. 

He leaves her alone during their study date for an hour to do something shady and/or potentially related to Eve (I know she overheard him yelling at Cecil in his bedroom); Mark tells her he’s been to Mount Everest, but can’t tell her How he got there, and leaves on a non-specific trip for two weeks, right after their first date, and can’t even tell her Where he’s going or what he did when he was there?

So she does what she’d wished she’d done in her first relationship, she sets her boundaries. Firmly. She gives Mark multiple chances to come clean when she tells him she’s not riding that wave again. It’s been brought up a few times that Amber has lingering relationship-trauma.

During their study date Amber tells him she’s been in relationships with violent potentially abusive guys (“Met plenty of guys who were willing to throw a punch for me.”); or when he stands her up for the Dinner with her mom she tells him that he needs to make a choice because she’s “Been down this road before, and once was enough.”

But he still keeps at it and she starts getting tired of defending him to her friends and her mom. He’s just busy, he’s just studying; he cares, I swear, he just has a strange way of showing it. And this time they shake their heads and lightly imply that she’s stuck in a pattern. Amber can feel them comparing Mark to her old boyfriend and it all becomes a bit too much. 

Either he’s a no good drug dealing prick or he’s just wasting her time, whatever it is, Amber’s had enough of being left in the dark. 

The soup kitchen is the final straw, but then she finds out that he gets run over by a bus. He actually gets hurt, this is the first time Amber’s seen him hurt, and she feels awful because if she hadn’t pushed him to show up for her again and again maybe he would’ve been more careful. 

He doesn’t let her visit him in the hospital. A hit and run on the wrong side of town was the story this time— he can’t even tell her this, the specifics of his accident! Eve was his first point of contact after his parents?! At this point Amber is convinced that he’s involved in something violent or something to do with Eve, or both and she’s not sure she wants to keep going with this. 

Amber is confused and hurt but she also feels responsible for Mark’s injuries. Maybe she Was too paranoid, maybe she Was projecting all her relationship-trauma on him and he would tell her what happened at his own pace. So she backtracks, gives him another chance.

College is really the best of all worlds, Mark makes her promises that this time will be different, and Amber tentatively agrees to college together. (She’s still stressed out about his injuries and on edge the whole time though and asks if he has a concussion). 

This is really important because Amber ends up at Upstate U later. She decided to go to college with him, basically because of Him. This wasn’t any specific plan she had before, this was her making room in her life for this boy and potentially everything their lives could be together. 

Then the Reanimen Incident happens. And she loses her shit. Mark Grayson is not the flakey but well-intentioned boyfriend she thought he was.. Mark Grayson is not even a good person! He LEFT her and William at the drop of a hat to save his own slimy skin, that bastard! Her intuition was right, she never should’ve given him a chance. 

Amber was no longer going to give Mark Grayson the time of day, much less share a bed with the self-serving jerk; she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of spinning another tall tale. Or seeing her cry. She closes the door to the shower rooms behind her, and overhears Rick leaving to get them all some beer. Dorm room walls are thin, after all.

Then she hears something else.

“You’re Invincible!” William’s voice carries over excitedly, “And you never told me?”

Here goes the "problematic" bit.

I think Amber was lying when she told Mark she knew he was Invincible weeks ago. Amber didn’t even know who Invincible was until a few minutes after the Reanimen attack. She isn’t acting for anyone around her, she’s genuinely confused when the superhero jets off because she’s never seen him in her life. 

I think she overheard William freaking out about it in the dorm room and she pieced together Mark’s absences with his vague excuses and why couldn’t visit him at the hospital. She takes a shower to cool off but sitting and stewing on all of it just makes her angrier and she decides to go to the frat party just to get away from Mark for a while. 

Now why wouldn’t she just tell him she overheard them talking? 

Amber is an assertive independent character with a lot of pride. And that’s not a bad thing. Amber has a lot to be proud of. She has a strong sense of justice, she doesn’t take crap from anyone and she has too much self-worth to put up with liars. 

You can clearly see this in the way she approaches Mark in the beginning. She asks William if he’s dating Eve, and then instead of calling him herself, she gets Todd to give Mark her number so he can call her if he’s interested, despite the fact that she already is. She has too much pride to chase him. It’s one of her fixed flaws, and it’s consistent to her character. 

So finding out that Mark is actually Invincible almost by accident, is kind of embarrassing for Amber. Not only because she yelled at him for disappearing but for all the times he misled her and lied to her only to actually have a good reason for doing it. There’s a lot of mixed emotions there, shame, guilt, concern. Guilt.

Admitting that she overheard he was Invincible would be like admitting she was a stupid, nagging girlfriend who had no right to be a part of his life (the way the fandom perceives her) so she doesn’t. She tries to distract herself with the party, flirts with someone she just met not ten minutes ago, and feels awful because he immediately drops the girlfriend bomb. 

Now she’s forced to confront the fact that she has a boyfriend, and her flakey, well-intentioned superhero boyfriend is sitting and moping in the dorm room because she doesn’t have the guts to tell him she knows. Because telling him she knows would remove the choice he’d need to make when deciding whether or not he was serious about their relationship.

Amber was serious, Amber was going to change her life and potentially open her future to college with him, but was Mark really sure about Them if he couldn’t even tell her of his own accord? 

Telling him would be like giving him another out. And Amber was done giving him an out. 

When he finally confesses he doesn’t see why she’s mad at him, because he doesn’t see her at all. He can’t even begin to imagine what this roller coaster of a weekend has been for her because she’s been serious about him all this time and it took them breaking up completely for Mark to choose her back in the first place and go all in. 

Now it’s true that Mark is entitled to his secrets but Amber is also entitled to being upset that he can’t tell her 1 solid thing about his life. Not one thing does he trust her enough to explain, and at that point why should they even be dating each other? Why should she change the course of her future for a guy who can’t tell her where he was last weekend?

Then Omni-man beats him up on live TV, and now that she knows that he’s Invincible, she finally gets a glimpse into the bloody, gruesome world that is Mark’s. His Dad isn’t a superhero, his Dad is a Monster, and Mark is discovering this the same time as the rest of the world.

So she freaks out because she cares, and she’s so relieved to see him not beat to a bloody pulp like on TV that she kisses him. She likely had no intention of getting back together with him before that, but world-ending fiascos often come with heightened emotions, and they’re just kids at the end of the day. 

She’s not a manipulative, narcissistic villain, she’s just a proud girl, in love with a boy who can’t decided whether or not he loves her back. 

Now do I think Mark is a terrible jerk who doesn’t deserve Amber? No. I watched Invincible the same way it was intended, almost entirely through Mark’s eyes, and it’s hard to assign blame in this case because we see how horrifying and traumatic being a superhero actually is. But that’s the point, we only see one half of the story. 

We see Amber through Mark’s eyes and in his opinion she could afford to be more compassionate to his excuses the moment she finds out he’s a hero, the way Eve can, but that’s not true at all because Amber has no idea what being a hero is like. Eve does, and that’s the difference that Mark is wilfully blind to. 

But Mark also has no idea what Amber’s life is like and it’s easy to get lost in the sea of all the lives lost and villains fought, that he genuinely hasn’t spent any time with his girlfriend as a person beyond his Girlfriend. Amber isn’t a person to him, like William stopped being eventually; they became sort of tethers to Mark’s humanity, a way to distinguish himself from his Dad. A way to ground him. 

Seriously? When was the last time Mark even talked to William, his once Best Friend? They’re not his Mom, they’re concepts to him. They’re civilians, potential victims he could end up losing if he doesn’t police himself and his powers. Mark slowly becomes disillusioned to his own life as a human, the more the leans into the Viltrumite half of his parentage. 

It’s a little tragic but it’s the story we’re seeing. In season 2, when Mark and Amber break up and he gives up his dream for college, these two things are almost explicitly correlated. Mark is coming to terms with the fact that he’s going to outlive everyone he knows, even his new baby brother and that is just the most chaotic example of a slow-burn trauma if I’ve ever seen one. He’s giving up being human, but maybe not giving up his humanity. 

______________________________________________________________

TLDR: None of you understand Amber Bennett because the writers decided that Mark would outlive her before he ever had the chance to see things from her perspective and I am SALTY about it

[jackie-monochrome]

ALRIGHT SO

I watched HTTYD 2 for the first time and I have Thoughts. Spoiler warning ig but like, pretty sure everyone's watched the film who's reading this post anyway.

Thing number one: THEY DID THE GANG SO DIRTY???? Transitioning from RTTE to the second film gave me massive whiplash on that front, they gave them like???? no time????? no lines????? like wtf man????? Astrid turns up occasionally to give Hiccup a pep talk, with the rest of her limited screentime being devoted to a b-plot that was kinda pretty bad. Snotlout, the twins, and Fishlegs only barely exist, and the whole love thingy situation with Eret, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Fishlegs was just....bleh.

Thing number two: The film simultaneously felt too fast and too slow. The slow scenes sometimes dragged a bit too long imo, and the fast scenes could be pretty difficult to follow, with just, a lot of stuff going on, but not in a good way (if that makes sense?).

Visuals were gorgeous throughout, the closeup shots of the dragons was cool because wow the skin looks so textured. Loved how they kept the philosophy of the scenes only being lit with objects actually there (or whatever it was), the lighting was ough yes very nice. The motion of the people (particularly hiccup) felt very motion-capture, but not enough to detract from the film.

I really wish I could've seen more of him exploring the uncharted parts of the world, that was cool (ig rtte is that but ehh).

There were definitely flashes of brilliance in the film as well. The flight scenes with Hiccup and Toothless were stunning, the scene where Stoick meets Valka is great, Stoicks funeral was also very good. One of my favourite moments was Hiccup flying in on the wingsuit, covering Drago in zippleback gas, and blowing him up because yes yes yes this is the person with the heart of a cheif and soul of a dragon!!!!!

Returning to visuals, there are many shots that are just gorgeous. I would say that it felt less like every frame could be a painting (which the 1st on genuinely did feel like a lot of the time) and more like a lot of okay stuff and then BAM most beautiful shot you've ever seen. They really got the sense of scale well, and did a good job placing how big and fast the dragons are in the 3d space (most of the time), something which I felt the shows were lacking, probably just due to not having the budget for huge sweeping landscapes that actually look any good, among many other reasons I'm sure.

Love that Hiccup kept the changes to the sword that Viggo made (even though yes, Viggo being the one to have the idea was added retroactively). Also cool that it retracts and stuff, it's cool to see the final design after the iterations in rtte. same for wingsuit.

Loved that Toothless's loyalty/friendship/love for Hiccup was what brought him back.

Drago was super forgettable as a villain ngl. I just kinda didn't care about him. I was very surprised that Hiccup didn't bring up his leg when Drago was monologuing about losing his arm to a dragon. Also was Drago supposed to be Hiccups foil? Or something? idk, whatever, I just didn't care about him. Why did he have a big army? idk he just does. Literally what even was his end goal i genuinely don't remember and I just watched the film.

If they could make the film cover a short TV show to flesh out basically everything more that could've been neat, but idk if the budget would stretch that far and still produce something good. Maybe the film was trying to fit in too much? Idk lol.

I'll probably watch No.3 on my own cause my family would NOT stop talking -_-

Anyway this is by far the longest post I've ever made so if you made it this far I'm impressed.

[corrodedcoughin]

It’s a Friday night and Steve is fresh out of the shower, cheeks pinked with the steam and hair still damp. I’m days gone by he’d be starting the hair styling ritual to get it sitting just right but that’s not his biggest priority anymore.

Don’t get him wrong, he still parts it the way he wants, runs some product through it after squeezing out the water with a tshirt (no towel will ever be scrubbing his head, thank you very much) but after that he’s done. He puts on a comfy pair of sweats and a tshirt that has been worn into softness and sighs at the feeling of the material on his skin.

Steve still enjoys a party every now and then but that isn’t what he lives for anymore, no he lives for the ease that nights like these give him. He walks through the living room bare feet stepping over hard, cold floors and eventually finding worn down carpet.

‘Thought you fell down the plug hole and found a new family amongst the fish’ Eddie looks up at him from his seat on the floor, a small smile curling his lip and scar.

There’s a completely empty and available couch right above him but, as always, he’s curled up with his back against the couch and his foot underneath him, Steve can almost hear the complaints of a dead leg and demands to be lifted to bed already. He almost calls eddie out but thinks better of it.

‘Yeah, well, thought I’d try the mermaid thing out, might get one of those shell bras out of it’ he sits down on the couch, you know, like a reasonable person. He tilts into Eddie’s space, and watches over his shoulder as he delicately paints one of his mini figures. Steve braces his leg to support the weight of Eddie as he leans back into him, both of them finding comfort in the other person’s body being close.

Eddie hums, ‘I dunno if they got one big enough for your tits man. And anyway, I don’t think we should cover one of the eight wonders of the world’ it could sound like a come on or a way to start some jokey argument but Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss to Steve’s knee to show there’s no heat behind it.

Before Steve can answer back Eddie carries on ‘you want to do anything tomorrow? With your day off I mean? I was going to plan something but didn’t want to presume when you only get so many free weekends and I-‘

Steve doesn’t let him finish. ‘No. No, this is good. No plans is good. With you. I mean- Yeah, no plans with you sounds really good’ Steve bends down, pressing a kiss just to the side of Eddie’s scar and feels his mouth quirk up, knowing that if his hands weren’t busy he’d be pulling his hair infront of his face. The room is softly lit with only the table lamp and tv on for the light and the sun newly set. It’s all adds together to make Eddie glow and Steve’s heart aches for him.

Eddie brings the middle back up to his eye line before muttering ‘Love you Steve.’

It’s gentle and quiet but said with so much warmth Steve feels like he’s burning up from the inside, like somebody lit a match and is trying to smoke him out from his own body. The intensity never dimmed from the first time they said it and Steve’s hoping it never will. He leans back into the couch and give his attention to the tv, Mangum P.I reprimanding some criminal, and let’s the ease and familiarity wash over him. Doesn’t let himself question how he got to be here, how he got to have this. Just grateful for the fact that it’s real.

‘Love you too Eds’

[kookidough]

AGRGAGRGAV i always ponder how alenoah reunion would go because like . it could go So many different ways

like how do they feel about each other now?? i always feel like after world tour is over, noah’s irritation would fizzle out and he’d be back to winning the idgaf war, accepting that in the end it was just a game and alejandro ended up playing better than him

alejandro’s feelings on the subject feel more complex to me like. does he accept the fact that, while noah’s words were harsh, they held some truth?? i view his reaction to noah talking behind his back as very telling of how close they were (despite the relatively short amount of time they spent together)

personally i think that pre-london they were close friends because they could match each other’s humour/wit, like how they laugh at tyler on the runway and when alejandro tells a mean-spirited joke regarding lindsay’s intelligence he tells it to noah, and Cmon guys, i know it was a team challenge but they still spent like 18 hours traversing the amazon together i just know they bonded during that!!! i wont even get into the fact that they’re always standing next to each other / hanging out in the background because i will be a pigeon pecking at crumbs and ive already gone off topic from the original reunion idea

anyway i think alejandro was mad because he thought he could consider noah a friend but he can see noah maybe doesnt feel the same way + hes a threat anyway soooo bye bye noah, question is would he hold a grudge over it and if yes then how long for

and what r they doing in their lives now when they meet again?? is alejandro still with heather or did that doomed relationship crash and burn (again)? is noah with emma or did things not work out after the race? and of course this differs depending on which world tour ending you’re going for, because is alejandro finally a winner or does his family still view him as the runner up they’ve always seen him as, second place silver in a robot suit, never quite good enough for gold (had to go off topic again, burromuerto family angst Gets Me)

would they miss the brief friendship they had? does noah ever meet a contestant on another one of him and owen’s reality shows and get a fleeting reminder of alejandro when they flirt or flash him a smile? does he get tired of no one else being on his wavelength and cast his mind back to that one boy that was? does alejandro ever turn on the tv and spot noah on one of those dumb shows?? and if he does what does he think?

ough i got off topic so many times i love thinking abt them in the future, they dont even have to reunite i also enjoy the bittersweet angst of right people wrong time/place… i think things would’ve been better for them if a million dollars wasn’t on the line

also i am not reading all this before i post it so if there are mistakes or it doesnt make sense then . pretend u didnt see it ^_^

[very-straight-blog]

This might sound funny and cringey, but I feel like I lost something I cared about and now it's just sadness and depression. Like it's a TV show, I get it, but we waited 2 years and for what? To get the two worst episodes imaginable. I'm really starting to believe that Sapochnik was responsible for everything good in s1, bcz Condal and Hess ruined this show. S1 wasn't perfect and I didn't like a lot of things in it, but it still managed to keep me invested so I hoped that in s2 everything would be improved. And yet, I'm so terribly disappointed. Alicent's characterization makes no sense anymore, like they want so badly to show her as a bad mother and a hypocrite and really - after ruining bnc with Alicole sex now it had to follow with her not being able to console her son but hoping on Criston is a must do?? What sort of degenerates write this??

Aemond is also ruined for me and I would love to erase that crappy brothel scene from my memory. What was it for? To show his mommy issues, vulnerability... Idc. The dialogue was bad and they did him dirty with the angles and the pose. And now he's apparently going to be there *again* in e3 and we'll get full frontal nudity. Idk why the actor agreed to this since they are obviously making a joke and meme material of his character. Not to mention that he straight up lied in the promos about being loyal (if the RR leaks are true and I'm almost 100% sure they are). I get that they are told what to say, but a more general answer would have been much better than a lie. In brief, one of my favourite s1 characters is also destroyed.

Then Cole. My god, I only waithig for him to look at the camera and say "do you hate me enough already hahah?" He's the writers punching bag atp.

Helaena barely exists.

Otto is Viserys' fanboy and ofc, appalled by his grandson. It's not as he just has lost a son and was forced to take the crown in the first place by him and his mother, no less.

Aegon got more screentime and I love Tom's performance, but I'm not fooled. He is still depicted as weak, politically inept and rash. And he'll still be a bully, apparently. Just to justify his brother's treason. F*ck you Condal, Hess and whoever else is responsible for this mess.

Anyway, sorry for the rant. I just don't get how anyone can seriously praise this shitshow anymore. It could have been great, but the creators are obviously not up to the task which is now painfully obvious. I wouldn't mind the greens as villains, but don't write them as a walking joke. I'm quitting the show and would like just to forget about it. This adaptation of the Dance was a huge mistake.

I feel you! By the way, I haven't participated in any fandom life, I think, for 10 years or more, but thanks to HOTD, I started this blog, I write some critical (well, kinda) reviews, and English isn't even my native language. I've been waiting for the second season for two years and now I just feel tired and empty. So far, the only thing I've liked about these two episodes is Aegon's storyline, that's all. Everything else is bad, very bad, and judging by the leaks, it'll be even worse.

Firstly, the series has a very strange pace of the narrative. We didn't get a bunch of important plot scenes, and even those that remained were shown in a hurry, but at the same time we have many scenes like "Rhaenyra stares at the dust for three minutes", unnecessary dialogues and PAUSES between lines.

Secondly, again, an insane amount of important plot details are left behind the scenes and this is absolutely wrong. Aemond's return home, the family's reaction to what he did. Aegon's reaction when he learned of his son's death. Aemond's reaction when he finds out what his actions have led to. And so on and so forth. Many of the characters' actions are shown without context. Alicent fucks with Criston - cool, but can I have some additional information? How long has this been going on, what feelings do they have for each other, how have they developed, like, anything? The same can be said about the scene in the brothel - no context.

Thirdly, it's unclear what's going on with the characters, as if the screenwriters decided to make the greens the most unpleasant people in the world. So far, I only like Aegon and Helaena. I can't even say anything about Aemond, because his only dialogue scene is built around Daemon and Luke, damn them. I just can't.

Everything annoys me except Aegon lol. So yes, I understand you.

[theroamingtrashcan]

Okay some ppl seemed interested in this and I cannot stop thinking about it. So here are some thoughts I've had while planning on rewriting Lab Rats but removing the Disney Channel Sitcom-ness from it.

What I mean by that is essentially just taking the characters, themes, and plot seriously. Picture Percy Jackson-esk, they are still kids but the situations and risks of what they do is not ignored.

The characters will be changed a bit to reflect this, but I'll do what I can to keep them true to the show. Some more than others, here's what I've currently got in mind for the main ones:

Leo - Honestly not much needs to be changed, he is one of the more seriously written characters in the show. I'll probably make him more concious of his actions, but his humor and personality I'll leave untouched.

Adam - Okay this one will be tricky. Adam is almost purely a comedic relief character, and some of that will stay. But most of it will be swapped with a genuine character, one that loves his family and also maybe art? Idk I need to keep rewatching to get a better grasp on Adam.

Bree - Much like Adam, Bree is very much the "sister" character in a boys TV show. From what I've seen in my rewatch (I'm only like halfway though s2), I'll have to make her more fleshed out, with a genuine personality. But don't worry, she is a couped up teenage girl who is doing what she can to live that teenage girl life, that much I will not change.

Chase - Truly the easiest of the bionic siblings, the show often takes Chase more serious than others. Most will stay the same, though I might knock his ego down a few pegs. Oh and Spike will be more present and a bit different, less "chad dude bro who beats up anyone and everything" and more "the Winter Soldier but he's 15".

Mr. Davenport - This one is a challenge. Do I play into him being a really bad person or do I do the opposite? Really considering the opposite, the show (especially in the beginning) is really inconsistent in his character, hes like always flip flopping between the two.

Tasha - Much like Leo and Chase, not much needs to be changed here. I will probably make her being a news reporter a bigger part of her character though.

Once I finish my rewatch, I'll start writing this. I intend to stick to the main plot, but add in some more stuff (just bcs this show is like 90% episode to episode plot lines, with the main one rarely coming into play). Also if it gets to that point, I'll probably continue the story of Elite Force (or maybe not, Idk how I would write the Mighty Med characters in this light).

Anyway though, I'm gonna start tagging all my posts about this with #labratsrealerau so if you wanna follow it along thats where you find it. If anyone has suggestions for a better tag name do let me know lol, that one is a bit clunky.

[elizabethshaw]

hm. thinking thoughts

under the cut for spoiler reasons:

this is literally just me writing stuff up in no real order so there is probably not all that much coherence to it. ah well

loved how unsettling it was having something wrong with the tardis! the tardis (in the tv show at least) is usually the one guaranteed safe place in any given dr who episode and so to have it suddenly a threat like that felt genuinely unnerving

the time window sequence was cool. really liked the fuzzy, there-but-not-quite-there visual effects

i also loved the monologue/prophecy/whatever, built things up very nicely and idk. i just vibed with it. i have more to say but the words are not coming to me right now

"and standing on high is the Mother and Father and Other of them all" i haven't even read lungbarrow but them saying "other" here immediately got my attention lmao

for an episode called "the legend of ruby sunday", it felt like (particularly in the last third of the story), there was remarkably little actual focus on ruby. while i do genuinely like her as a companion, i do feel like she's been one of the biggest casualties of the shift to a shorter series length with less time for "filler" episodes - we simply haven't had the time to get to know her on a deeper level, and i was hoping, given the title, that this story would do something to rectify that a bit. and then it didn't.

saying that, i did appreciate them giving her some more scenes with her mum this episode, i think she has a really nice dynamic with her family and we haven't seen enough of it since the christmas special imo

no trickster :( he got a mention at least but i was hoping he'd be the villain ngl

i have watched pyramids of mars once, four years ago, and barely remember the plot (my main memories of that episode are sarah with a gun ngl), probably going to have to rewatch it before next week. dailymotion you may have to be my saviour once again

not entirely sure how i feel about sutekh as the main villain. this is at least in part because my memories of pyramids of mars are hazy as anything, but i'm just... undecided. to its credit, the episode itself actually did a good job of getting me very excited about the reveal while i was watching, but as an overall thing? i don't know yet. i think i'm going to have to wait until i've watched the finale next week to form a full opinion

i reckon he must have hitched himself onto the tardis around/during "wild blue yonder" though - this is the first time where the tardis starts making The Noises, and is also the first time susan twist turns up, and that can't be a coincidence, especially given that, as previously established, it was likely fourteen's salt trick in this episode that let the toymaker back into the universe

i rewatched "the church on ruby road" earlier this week bc i figured it'd be a good shout and i hadn't watched it since broadcast, and during that i felt like mrs flood was maybe a "retired" companion, possibly a future companion (maybe of a future doctor) that we haven't met yet. after this ep though, i'm not so sure. she seems at least aware of sutekh in some way, and also seems potentially antagonistic, but i'm not sure she's actually directly linked to him. i'm fairly sure as well rtd said at some point she's more of a mystery for later series so. hm. it'll be interesting to see what more we get of her in part two

i can't shake the feeling that they are going to do something with susan further down the line. there have been more mentions of her in this series than in basically the rest of new who put together and i can't help but think that this must be for a reason even if susan twist wasn't her

anyway the real mystery for me: what is the vlinx. i have been thinking about this on and off since december. what is it. how did it get into unit to begin with. i need answers

[actingjunkie]

Paul Simon Probably Thought I Was a Seat Filler’

By Devon Ivie, a staff writer covering classic rock and TV

“The direction that the three of us were given was: ‘You’re on the show with this lunatic who doesn’t let his guests talk. Look as annoyed and out of place as possible.’” Photo: Saturday Night Live via YouTube

Sit down and take a big, mental Ooooo weeeee — it’s not like Diondre Cole will let you get a word in anyway. Chris Colfer learned this in spectacularly amusing fashion while appearing on the seventh edition of Saturday Night Live’s recurring “What Up With That?” sketch, which found the Glee actor sandwiched between a real Paul Simon and fake Lindsey Buckingham. (The latter of whom, as always, cut his family vacation short to be there.) Teased as part of “a salute to music greats” on the show’s May 14, 2011, episode, Colfer had the honor of fulfilling the essential duties of the middle chair: silently tolerating the absurdity of how Diondre (Kenan Thompson) runs his made-for-BET program, as the host would rather disrupt his guests with elaborate song-and-dance routines than actually let them talk. While the first guest tends to get a sentence or two in — Simon briefly hypes up his new album — the second is often relegated to reaction shots while a Narnia wardrobe full of characters such as, say, “the bad boy of bluegrass” Captain Sexy Banjo and the real Buckingham materialize out of nowhere. If you’re overthinking it, just stop. “What Up With That?” was not intended for analysis.

Colfer, who had recently wrapped Glee’s phenomena of a second season, was at the right place at the right time for SNL to think of him for the cameo. Plans were canceled. Excitement ran high. It all went live in 36 hours. And he didn’t care that he had nothing to do besides cross his legs. “It’s such a special memory for me. Being a microscopic spot of SNL history is the ultimate bragging right,” he says now. “If anyone ever tries to one-up me at a party, I whip that one out, and I usually win the conversation.”

How exactly was this sketch presented to you? Were you aware that it had already become a recurring and well-oiled SNL staple of sorts?

Yeah, I was. I’ve always been a huge fan of SNL, so I was familiar with the sketch and I thought it was hilarious. I was in New York City, and I had just done a live interview. I did so many interviews at the time for Glee that I can’t even remember who it was for. My publicist and I were walking down, like, 47th or 48th Street afterward, and she got a random call. It was Friday afternoon. One of SNL’s bookers had just seen me on live television and asked if I was still in the city. They said, “Can he do a cameo in tomorrow night’s episode?” And I responded, “Hell yes, absolutely.” No joke: They asked me to come in for a rehearsal immediately. So we had to clear the rest of my afternoon and went straight to Rockefeller Center. It was the easiest rehearsal I’ve ever done, because I didn’t have to do anything. I just had to sit there and be quiet. Then I went in the next day, and we did the dress rehearsal and then we did the live taping. It was magical.

Did you instinctively understand the humor? I mean, when I tell friends about my love of “What Up With That?”, what comes out of my mouth is jumbled nonsense about BET and a fake Lindsey Buckingham. It’s not the easiest thing to wrap a mind around.

I did. I remember on Saturday, in between the rehearsal and the live taping, the writers came to my dressing room and said, “We want to give you a line. Let’s try this out.” And I responded, “Absolutely not. You cannot give me a line. It’s way funnier if I’m just there and I don’t say anything.” And they looked at me and said, “Well, you’re the first guest to ever say that, and thank God, because we agree.”

An excellent instinct.

I can’t remember what the specific line was, but I was going to say something at the very end, and Kenan’s character was going to cut me off. But we all agreed it was funnier if I didn’t even try to talk.

So you sit down for the dress rehearsal, look to your left, and there’s Paul Simon in the chair. What was your opening line to him?

It was a complete secret who was in those seats until I showed up at that rehearsal. They didn’t tell me any details until I actually arrived in the studio — I had to be escorted right on the stage to my seat. I didn’t even have a script. Well, I didn’t need one, of course, because I wasn’t saying anything. And then I turned to my left and it’s Paul Simon. And then I turned to my right, and it’s Lindsey Buckingham waiting in the wings of the set. How the heck did I get here? I couldn’t say anything. I froze. I remember thinking at that moment, Chris, do not ask any questions about Stevie Nicks or Carrie Fisher. I had to repeat that to myself over and over and over again in my head. Paul Simon probably thought I was a seat filler.

So you didn’t ask if he was a Gleek?

Oh God, no. I never assume anyone knows who I am or knows where I’m from.

Was there a sense of nerves on your end before the live taping began?

It’s funny, because this required the least amount of effort on my part, but I was still extremely nervous. I was nervous that I would trip on the way there. But more so than nerves, it’s just that that show is pure adrenaline. It’s chaos, but it’s organized chaos. Everyone knows exactly what they’re doing, but it’s absolutely what you would imagine: People running back and forth in the hallways, carrying props and costumes and set pieces. It was really, really neat. I still have my little Chris Colfer plaque for my dressing room.

Where do you keep it?

I have an awards case, so it’s on display there. It was a gift.

For me, at least, the best part of the sketch is all of the wordless expressions taking in the absurdity of everything. Do you remember how the writers wanted you to react to certain beats?

The direction that the three of us were given was: “You’re on the show with this lunatic who doesn’t let his guests talk. Look as annoyed and out of place as possible.” So that seems easy, in theory, but the hardest part was not laughing my ass off. There’s one particular moment, when Kristen Wiig does this little hoedown in the middle of the sketch while a banjo plays. Everyone in the audience was falling to pieces, and I was looking at the ceiling so I wouldn’t join them. I got to release some of the joy in that moment.

Colfer, seconds apart, realizing he won't get an anecdote in. NBC/Saturday Night Live.

The lineage of “middle seat” people includes Mindy Kaling, Ernest Borgnine, Carrie Brownstein, Robin Williams, and Jack McBrayer. Do you see any connective tissue among you all?

I feel like I would just be flattering myself trying to make a connection, so instead I’ll say we all just happened to be free at the right time and have a good sense of humor.

Who do you think would be uniquely qualified to portray a fake Chris Colfer?

The only person I know who could do it is Marcia Gay Harden — with a good wig. Years ago, they were going to do an episode of Glee where something happened at McKinley High School. There was going to be this big, fake movie made about it. So we were all casting ourselves on who would play our characters in this fake movie. They had Glenn Close playing Sue Sylvester and Justin Timberlake as Matthew Morrison. So I said, “Well, Marcia Gay Harden has to play me.” It was a big joke. Unfortunately, the episode didn’t happen, but they were thinking about actually making it.

Did you go to the SNL after-party in celebration of the episode?

Yes, I did, and I got to chat with Lorne Michaels for a little bit. It’s really hard to make small talk with someone with that kind of résumé. You don’t want to ask the wrong question, and you don’t want to seem like you’re too big of a fan. But I couldn’t help myself. I asked about the history of the show, his favorite sketches, and the sketches he regretted. He was very kind and open to answering everything. He did tell me I’d be back on, so I’ll hold him to it one day.

Have you ever cut a family vacation short to do a talk show?

I’m sure I have. I’ve cut family vacations short for much, much less, too.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Here's MY thoughts on the love island the game's seasons, for no reason other than I want to:

Also because the majority of the people following me are here for OM! & I want to drag more people down into the litg hell with me :)

Season 1: why is everyone so bitchy for no reason????? Talia & Jake are okay but other than that it's meh... don't really like the art style either

Season 2: Immaculate. Chef's kiss. They hit a high they never reached again. Somehow managed to balance the drama & the found family aspect and created a dynamic where you can actually believe everyone is friends and having fun even if sometimes they try to kill each other. Characters are flawed but generally decent people who are allowed to grow throughout the season. You get the option to make MC a bi gym-bro who can devour an entire cake in one sitting and bench press her partner. There's a reason this got two sequels.

Season 3: It's fine ig. Short and kind of boring. Nothing much happens. AJ is so cute though she almost makes up for it.

Season 4: Honestly a close 2nd favourite. We get a lot of character backstory and like s2 it touches on some serious issues. The season with some of the funniest moments/lines of dialogue - multiple moments where I just laughed out loud. I'm still only half way through it but the "villain" is just straight up mean for no reason and doesn't get any character development like the characters in S2 but makes up for it by having some of the funniest interactions with other characters and I was so sad to see her go. Also the season where I desperately wish MC was allowed to be in an open relationship till the very end and finish off the season in a polycule with every other islander who was in the love "triangle"s of the the season because this was the hardest season to pick a LI - Najuma is just all around amazing, Bruno is sweet & funny, Tom is so pathetic* MC & Thabi's friendship is also the best thing? It's great seeing a platonic relationship that is as loving (if not more so) than the romantic relationships. It's literally:

Season 5: Psychological horror. The producers said 'hey wouldn't it be funny if we torture this woman on national tv' and then committed to the bit. My memories are hazy because even though I only played it earlier this year it upset me so much I did my best to block most of it out but also I'm 100% sure there was actual galighting happening. Don't know why MC stuck around till the end because all she's gonna be able to use the money for is to pay for her therapy. Anyway I think MC should have been allowed to brutally murder everyone, she deserved it <3

Season 6: I liked the concept but I think they should have utilised it more. I'm still right at the very beginning (around ep 9) and I KNOW the general consensus from everyone who has reached the last eps seems to be that Amelia sucks MAJOR ass. But look, this is the first time a game has given me a MC with a canon family member who is also part of the game so in my opinion Amelia could commit war crimes and she's still be the most precious little uwu ever because I'm activating MC's insanely overprotective oblivious to all faults ""big"" sister mode

Edit:

*I just played more of S4 and holy shit someone needs to get this man away from his parents and also maybe get him some therapy jfc

Edit 2:

** youcef, mc & valentina helping tom figure out he likes flowers and pink and tie-dye clothes and makeup and being complimented and called pretty and getting hugs is getting to me okay his parents better watch the show and see their adult son finally discovering himself and what he likes instead of what they think he should like and finally being able to let loose and have fun without worrying about what others think of him and finally being happy and they better get some sense knocked into them OR he should go to therapy and realise that no matter how much he loves his parents their love and regard being so conditional to the point that he's hidden his entire personality and is now so extremely self-conscious of it whenever it does manage to peak out, that he nearly cries on national tv after a practical stranger compliments those hidden bits is not good. Also the man has some of the most insane repressed queer vibes???? What do you mean he sees a canon nonbinary person wearing a floppy hat and is reminded of the floppy hat he loved as a child that his father threw away and replaced with a baseball cap and then when he "lost" the baseball cap his father bought him the exact same one again

Edit 3:

*** i was 100% sure i was going to get mc to stick with najuma (dorky mischevious goth who is so so bad at flirting hello!!!?) but i got caught by "sad & shy with serious self-worth issues hidden badly behind an overconfident exterior (who blushes & gets flustered easily because he so rarely receives genuine praise/compliments) experiences postive regard for the first time and loses his shit" for the third fucking time

Edit 4:

Okay but why does Dylan get (rightfully) called out by everyone in S4 for all the bullshit he does to MC from blatantly lying to her to not listening when she says "No" But in S5 when Suresh (admittedly, more subtly) pulls off the same shit no one says anything, even MC's "friends" don't believe her.

In S2 when Luke/Henrik gets a little too forceful after MC says no, he gets called out by MC's partner and immediately apologises

In S4 when Dylan does the whole "stop pretending you don't want me" routine after MC rejects him multiple times, the rest of the islanders band together and basically chase him off the island

In S5 when Suresh pulls literally the same thing from the very first episode itself but none of the other islanders believe MC, and Suresh keeps getting to do this until almost the very end while also managing to constantly play hot & cold with MC and chase away all of MCs other romantic interests

[ifihadtopickadad]

you've made a mistake by telling me to go read up on the au- (/j)

anyway. susan refers to nessa and gregory as her children, so i assume this means she adopted nessa?? either legally or just emotionally, and considering she was homeless before henry gave them the afton house i am going to assume the us legal system wouldnt give her custody of nessa at all so its the latter.

WILLIAM FINDING REMNANT AS A TEENAGER IS SUCH A COOL CONCEPT ?!?!? like. him finding it post cc (i love how you call him benny btw. really cool name) or charlie's death is interesting, but the idea that he experimented using animals (AND HIS OWN FAMILY DAMN) and then moved onto children/humans once he- presumeably- did everything he could with being that didnt have the same level of sentience?? amazing. very evil-scientist core. love it.

remnant working similar to radiation is also an interesting idea, having to be stored carefully or it will 'possess' the objects around it. (imagine william tried to store it in a bucket one time and the bucket just. got possessed. what do you even do in that situation-) are there some materials that remenant is physcially unable to uh. meld itself into i guess?? like some resources are just remnant resistant??

will susan tell the kids about remnant? about everything (or even just some things) the aftons had going on? or is she going to try protect them from the truth?? DOES SHE FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO MIKE POST-SISTER LOCATION?? is the scoop canon to this au?? (if so my next question is how did faz ent get the sperm of a corpse but its faz ent. theyll find a way.)

the au seems great so far !! definately really interesting, will be Rotating It in my mind for the next several days and going mental any time you post something new for it lol

take care !! <3

It Twasn't a mistake. Twas a calculated risk.

I love people asking about the stuff I make. I'm out here stimming from excitement, you got me smiling so hard that my dimples are showing.

Emotionally and illegally. If there's one thing the lore has shown us about Henry beyond what we already know, it's that after William's bull-fuckery Henry had to be just as shady to bring the musty dusty purple Pringle down so paying someone to forge adoption papers was easy(I like to think he fnaf!Neil Caffrey to do it)

The concept of William discovering Remnant post-CC is nice but it never lined up quite right to me, I know way too much about how famous historical scientists studied the way stuff worked extensively to even begin experimenting with it to think that he discovered Remnant, and immediately started killing people to get results. William isn't on the Anti Social Personality Spectrum but he is an undiagnosed Narcissist with a God-Complex. So, William discovers Remnant as a teen and does smaller experiments to figure out how it works (this is one of my fnaf theories specifically around William's relationship to Remnant)

All the discourse about Remnant is actually what inspired the Radiation thing. Everyone, everywhere, was losing their minds over the insanity that is Remnant and I had a throwaway thought about how we've seen all this in fiction where Radiation is the given cause: the mutates in every Fallout game ever and the TV show, Spiderman, The Hulk, Corpse Mikey would fit right in in the Fallout-verse, etc. All fnaf does is take all of those concepts and shove them into one place and I love that. The only thing it doesn't do is bring you back to life and I think that's because you need internal organs for that. Mike lost his organs but not his brain so Remnant kept brain activity going.

The bucket thing did happen. It wasn't a bucket thought. It was one of those plain lunch boxes. He had one already but, he bought an extra to store the Remnant in. Long story short, it's early morning, and he's practically brain-dead as he gets ready for school so he grabs one of the lunch boxes without. Lunch in the cafeteria was legendary that day. The lunch box screeched, and he made up a half-lie about trying to invent a musical lunch box but grabbing the wrong one. He invented an actual musical lunch box that was fairly popular in UK for a while.

Yes! Funny enough Radiated materials are the only things Remnant can't meld itself to. He could never figure out why but, William's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He bought and repurposed multiple microwaves to act as radiated containers.

By the time they get to the house Gregory and Nessa are 10 and 14 respectively so she does tell them, they're also Geniuses ala Afton Genetics and they're also Peak Gremlins™️ so they'd find out anyway.

Everyone knows Michael Afton(legal name Mike Schmidt) as a Missing Person's case that's gone unsolved for decades by this point. The footage of him getting scooped was scrubbed as was his being worn like a meat suit. But there is footage of 'Mike' forcing himself up and to the Elevator. His organs were all gone by the time the Police got there but the blood muscle and other bodily fluids were still there. It's believed that Mike was lured to the scooping room through abuse and manipulation a fact further compounded by the bodies of the technicians being found hanging by police.

The general belief is that he died out in the wilderness but, his body was never found hence the Missing Presumed Dead thing. This all happened in 1986 when he was 17. Afton Robotics and Fazent shut down Circus Baby's officially and stopped renting out the Funtimes after this because they weren't fast enough to cover it up like with the Missing Children's Incident and the Bite of '83. And so began the downfall of Fazbear Entertainment and Afton Robotics.

So yeah, the scoop happened here, and since Remnant works with what's already there and Mike's practically made of the stuff because he grew up eating it, his sperm was kept intact ala Remnant(I mean he didn't lose his penis to the scoop.)

As for the name. I was watching the sandlot when I came up with it. (His middle name is Garret) I'm glad you like it.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

hi ari!!!! hope you’re doing well!! 🐟🐟 these days the weather is so so nice and the sea is so tempting……………… i went ahead and took some days to swim like the fish i am! surprisingly the water wasn’t so cold and it seems i wasn’t the only one who thought of swimming because the beach was full of people 🙂‍↕️ it was really fun!

anyway!! i wanted to ask you, which films and/or cinematic universes you think your jjk favs would suit the most??? :33 if it is too restraining you can name tv series, of course!!

(p.s.: oh, i’m glad you liked my silly rant about statue!gojo TT 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 it has been rotting in my mind for months now but i’m a procrastinator and i have too many wips… i think it might be that summer is near and i’m super inspired but i don’t know where to begin lmaooo. my notebook is overflowing with half-finished prompts and chapters that are waiting to be completed……. 😭😭) — 🐟 anon

HIIIII MY LITTLE 🐟 ANON!!!! :33

i’m so happy that it’s getting warmer where you are!!!!! the weather is starting to take a turn for the better here too hehe….. but wahhh!!!! beach trips!!!!!!! i miss them i do…. you’ll have to have double the fun for both of us!!! <3333

AND . GULP. that’s a super fun question and also super tough bc i don’t watch …. a lot of movies……… 😔😔 i’ve been watching more recently!!!! but honestly i have a lot of trouble remembering series and movies that i’ve watched….. my brain doesn’t store a lot of them. HOWEVER . yk what i do watch??? and adore????

……. musicals >:33

so here are some musicals that i associate w my jjk favs!!! I HOPE THAT’S OKAY… i got a little too into it i think 😭

gojo - legally blonde

I JUST THINK HE WOULD LOVE IT SO MUCH……….. i know him personally . honestly i would’ve given him the movie if i had followed your original assignment bc it just screams gojo to me either way!!!! i think he loves chickflicks. :3 and this is definitely one of his comfort movies…… the musical is also just SUCH a bop i knowwwww this man is terrorizing his coworkers by singing ”gay or european” in broad daylight (specifically to nanami)……

sugu - the phantom of the opera

THE PHANTOMMMMMMM OF THE OPERA IS HEREEEEEEEE 🎶🎶🎶🎶 …. <- sugu doesn’t sing along to musicals + doesn’t rlly like them that much in general but i know in my heart and soul that he would hum this part quietly to himself . what can i say….. this is just a very classy musical that i think would appeal to him <3333 he’d read the book beforehand too. he’s a lil pretentious but it’s okay :3 he’s veryyyy picky abt what musical renditions he enjoys tho…….

shoko - the guy who didn’t like musicals

MY PERSONAL FAVORITE MUSICAL OF ALL TIMEEEEE <333333 i just know she’d adore it. the blend between horror and comedy is soooo shoko and i feel like she wouldn’t like musicals at ALL lmao so she’d appreciate the meta commentary!!!! it’s just. suchhhh a good musical….. i love starkid so much it hurts………… AND THE WHOLE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE THINGGG she would eat that up!!!! pls watch this one if you haven’t 🐟 anon you can find the full thing on yt and it’s INCREDIBLE i’ve watched it like 10 times!!!! it’s my most beloved!!!!

kenny - beetlejuice

BEETLEJUICE 👏 BEETLEJUICE 👏👏 BEETLEJUICE 👏👏👏 okay so i actually lied this one is ALSO my absolute favorite . and i’m giving it to kenny solely based on vibes :3 HE REMINDS ME OF BEETLEJUICE OK…. and i think he’d love it a lot. the songs are so fucking good and i know he’d appreciate them. the theme of life/death is also very kenny obv !!!!

toji - black friday

ANOTHER STARKID MUSICAL. this one is just…… soooo good and funny and also . tragic. one of the characters reminds me a lot of toji :’3 former veteran w a dead wife…. who struggles to show his son how much he cares…… and the theme of capitalism and money and how it corrupts ppl also feels in line w toji’s character!! but above all else this musical is abt. Family. and that’s more toji than anything!!! :((( this is another musical that i rlly recommend checking out, it’s set in the same universe as the guy who didn’t like musicals but like . an alternate timeline. it’s not my favorite in the series but the songs slap and it made me cry so <3333 yeah.

nobara - heathers

was lowkey considering six the musical for my beloved nobara (bc of the gorgeous women and catchy fun songs) but . i think heathers fits her more!!!! i just feel like she’d ADORE it…… i know she’s singing along at the top of her lungs too LMAO especially to dead girl walking <3333 it’s just such a fun badass musical and i think she’d be obsessed. she does NOT like jd tho god bless 🙏🙏

[zemantler]

Hey Mac! I just saw the new video you made about episode 4 and 5 of Our Flag Means Death and wanted to share with you a perspective I thought might be interesting to you.

(p.s sorry its so long and wordy! I tried to condense my thoughts as much as possible😅)

I read an article recently by Screen Rant (https://screenrant.com/our-flag-means-death-season-3-release-date-cast-story-everything-we-know/) which says that our boy David Jenkins himself mentioned that if the show gets renewed for a third season then season 3 would be the final. He apparently also said that he has the entirety of the show beginning to end already mapped out, and this information kind of changed everything for me in terms of how I view the show and the way it is being created.

Shows that go for 5 to 10 seasons (roughly) are shows MADE for streaming, that being said their formula is usually to follow a storyline that can be started and ended every season and it's the characters that keep us coming back. OFMD isn't like that, I think the key is to think of it more like a long movie. and what we know about movies, or just classic storytelling in general (literally one of the first things you learn in elementary or middle school) is that a story has a beginning, a middle and an end. If you think about the seasons of the show like this-season 1 beginning, season 2 middle, and season 3 end-it kinda makes all the pacing issues and the ‘Ed problem’ make sense (or just seem more intentional-again David says he has this all planned out) and you can follow the trajectory of the show actually pretty clearly from there. Take for instance season 1, you said it yourself it's like season 1 (baring the last two episodes) is like setting up the story (love story) with rose coloured glasses on. That being said the show also lines up with a rough outline of what your classic hero's journey looks like-call to adventure (the opening of Stede and the crew in ep01s01 and the flashbacks of Stede and Mary's unhappy marriage), meeting with the mentor (Ed-who is also the love interest-and the whole 'teach me how to pirate i'll teach you how to etiquette' deal). You can think of the last two episodes of season 1 as like the crossing of the threshold (aka glasses come off) cause not only does Stede realize he wants to be a pirate indefinitely and leave Barbados for good, but also because season 2 opens with the next part of the hero's journey which is meeting new enemies and allies (Zheng Yi Sao, Archie, Richard Banes,etc.(Does Izzy count as a new ally?)). 

Again, it's all very classic in format, but usually just not how tv shows made for streaming choose to operate-cause most of the time network execs are literally just trying to make the most money by keeping a concept going probably longer than they should-but I digress. Also again, if you factor in the part where season 3 would be the last season it's not unusual at all.That being said I think the reason they decided to have the crews trauma and ESPECIALLY Eds issues only start being addressed in the 5th episode is because they are hoping to have this be one of the plot points that drifts its way into season three and subsequently have resolution occur at that time as well, instead of forcing hollow resolution in the final three episodes of s02 and then have nothing to work with in season 3-this is another point that Screen Rant made in their article.

Using the three acts/hero's journey formula, we can start making really rough guesses as to how season three might pan out and given the circumstances of season 2, it kind of feels more right to me. Not to mention our dude Taika is the guy who wrote the initial screenplay of Moana which focused more on family than the screenplay which actually got made into the Disney film, so I can't imagine him and David of all people just glossing over all of the emotional reconciling parts of the core relationships. Anyways I thought this was interesting to think about and might also help in easing the nerves over the last 3 episodes of this season, again there is always the possibility this might not be true, or work out this way, but I thought it clicked too perfectly in my own head just to not talk about it. Like seriously the hunch is hunching right now!

Anyways Mac, loved the video and hope you have a great night! 😊

Hi!! First of all, thank you, I'm really glad you enjoyed it. Hope you'll have a good day too. Wow thats a lot of text, sorry if I misunderstood something.

While I understand what you mean, series dont really work like that. There are lots of "series like long movies" -plot based, not too stretched out, character dynamic focused, few series long, etc. For example, Good Omens, Sherlock, Hannibal (i think, never seen it) and more...

Movies start plotline in the beginning and have to resolve them in the end. BUT that doesnt mean there cant be a cliffhanger at the end, to help a sequel continue the story. And thats how (good) movie franchises are born- multiple movies are made to elaborate on the first original story, because there simply wasnt enough time to tell it in its entirety in one movie.

Series like ofmd go hannibal etc.. Were made to be series, because they couldnt possibly fit the entire story in a movie format. But when you make the decision to make a series, you also have to comply to the series format. So if its not a limited series, it will probably have multiple seasons, overall theme and will start a plot in first season that will to some extent, continue until the last one, while at the same time having multiple sub plots that will end with each season. They have to end at the end of the season, otherwise the overall season experience wont be satisfying. You watched all that and for what? Just to wait another year to actually see anything happen?

Now i can finally explain what I meant by all this :D OFMD in its entirety cant be like a movie, for its a series. They are formatted differently. If we wanted to compare it to a film, then the only way to do so is to make each season a new movie in a franchise. Each season has to have a satisfying experience on its own while ending in a way that leaves stuff that the next season can work with.

You cant make a bad season and then try to excuse it with "Its only a filler between act one and three" because while that would be excusable in movie, it's not really in series. because then youre just left with a second season that feels unfinished and rushed.

But even story wise, it just doesnt make sense to start redemption arc of the protagonist in act 2, get him together with the love interest and then actually redeem him in act 3. Its weird idk

I'm not saying that this season is bad when it hasnt dropped in its entirety yet tho. Dont quote me on that. I love ofmd and i really am enjoying this season. It just has more flaws than the first one.

Sorry that i rambled a bit and also sorry if it doesnt make sense. Im in school rn its hard to write something sensible while trying to pay attention to geometry or whatever we're doing