#And also they spent seasons explaining how he and Robin were perfect for each other and then were mad people shipped them.

[thestobingirlie]

Hi, sorry to bother you and feel free to ignore this ask, but can you explain how Steve and Robin are so close? I don't understand why they're portrayed as extremely close friends in fic a lot. I probably missed something or misunderstood something because Robin was kinda mean to Steve and they were tortured, Robin comes out, and then they're sharing a resume? I get how they got close after the Russians, but I don't understand the whole platonic soulmate thing that I see a lot of in fic. I think their friendship is great - we don't see a lot of purely platonic (You can fight me on this, but I don't think Steve actually had a crush on Robin. Crushes are confusing and easily mixed up new friendship feelings. I think that's what happened with Steve because his confession kinda blindsided me, but then again, I could have missed something) relationships between men and women in Stranger Things and I think that's something that the show needs more of. And just character relationships in a meaningful way, not just as a way to move along the plot. I just don't understand why fics portray them as so close. Sorry if this is offensive in any way, I'm just trying to understand, and you seemed like a good blog to ask.

hi! don’t worry, it’s not an offensive question, and i’d love to answer!

we’ll start with s3! so, even at the very beginning of the season, when robin is teasing steve, steve still seems to enjoy her company. he likes snapping back, and annoying her. in the confession scene, he even tells her that he’s laughed more that summer than in years!

he’d only just started speaking to robin that summer and he was already telling her about how he hid parts of himself for fear of getting made fun of, just like she confesses that she’s always wanted to popular and accepted. like, the both of them are already revealing really intimate parts of themselves to each other! then obviously, robin comes out to steve. i think this is so important for both of them, and honestly i think some people underestimate just how much that moment meant. it’s the 80s! robin had to have had so much trust in steve to come out to him. obviously she’s scared, but she could’ve lied to steve about why she wouldn’t date him, but she chose to tell him. and steve just totally accepted her. no hesitation. like, that kind of connection isn’t just co-workers. they love each other! at the end of the season they wait to get a job so they can still be together!

(oh! and i totally agree that steve never actually had romantic feelings for robin. he spent the season flirting with girls, and he loves spending time with robin! dustin is telling him that whole season that he and robin are perfect together, and robin confesses that she was obsessed with steve. so it’s no surprise that he asks her out! he thinks that’s just kind of what he has to do. what makes sense for him to do)

and onto season 4! so, steve drives robin to school every single day, even though his work doesn’t start for another three hours! he’s willingly pulling himself out of bed at like 6 in the morning just for robin. he knows who her crush is and has actively paid attention to her so he could see if she was attracted to women purely to know whether to encourage robin and give her pep talks! and we see throughout the season that robin also involves herself into steve’s love life. like, they just both care so much about the other person being happy, that they will go out of their way to make sure they are.

like, robin wants them to combine into one person! she literally wants to permanently tie herself to steve. every single time steve’s in danger, robin is beside herself with worry.

also! when steve is on a date, he postions himself close to the band solely so he can chat to robin! like, he’s on a date! and he still goes out of his way to chat with robin.

we just see throughout the show that the two of them go out of their way to hang out with each other, to take care of each other, make sure they’re happy. like, these are all kinda small moments that you’ll only notice if you really care enough to pay attention, but they just all show that their love for each other is more than just friends. they’re soulmates! like, they are as close as friends can possibly be.

i suppose, at the end of the day, it is an opinion thing. but i just can’t see them as anything other than the most important person in each others life.

[reachexceedinggrasp]

What are the conspiracy theories about their motives?

Ted and Marshall are their self-inserts (that’s not speculation, that’s something they’ve talked about), they made a lot of kinda excessive comments about falling in love with Cobie Smulders during the first season, and their original vision of Barney was as a ‘Jack Black type’ much older than the rest of the cast who is purely gross and pathetic.

So the fandom speculated that a) going back on the entire point of Robin and the foundational twist from the pilot (aka that she is not the girl) was unplanned and possibly in large part because they (mainly Bays) wanted to vicariously date her. When I watched the show (after it had finished, so I knew about the finale already), I immediately noticed that the first two or three episodes very much suggest Ted and Robin were never intended to date seriously. There’s a very abrupt track change and some clumsy retcons to create the thread which will eventually lead to them having a relationship. Which makes sense, because narratively this big Ted/Robin build up is largely pointless, redundant, and unappealing and we already know it won’t work out- no one is going to ship that. They were created to be incompatible and they are.

b) Bays and Thomas (especially Bays) really, really resented that the audience latched on to Barney and not only made him the face of the show but loved him best and wanted to root for him. They were angry that Ted wasn’t anyone’s fav but theirs and that as far as the audience was concerned Barney/Robin was the big will-they-won’t-they couple, overshadowing Ted’s quest for The One.

Bays ‘blames’ Neil Patrick Harris for this and their writing for the character in the context of their interviews makes it not totally implausible to believe there was an aspect of punishing him for being everyone’s favourite. And that’s really the main conspiracy theory I’m referring to and the one I joked about in my post comparing HIMYM with tros- that you treat a character you created so badly it feels like you have a vendetta against the actor for making the part more rich than you imagined.

Because it feels very clear to me that part of the problem with the writing is that the showrunners, unlike the rest of the writers and the audience, never saw Barney in any other way than their original idea of a creepy, unattractive joke with no depth. They never, ever intended him to be seen as a romantic option for anyone and never anticipated the audience wanting to root for him as a romantic lead.

If you imagine Jack Black doing schtick instead of NPH, his whole concept reads differently; that Barney would have been a sad clown, just a buffoon. He thinks he's awesome but is definitively a loser, and no one is too mad at him or too sorry for him because no one takes him that seriously. He's irredeemably gross, totally not threatening, and any pathos he might have is tongue in cheek. The plays are pathetic but harmless, he isn't actually successful but he's so determined everything be awesome that in hindsight it sort of is (the early episode Sweet Taste of Liberty is totally like this), just because it makes for a funny story for Hero Ted to tell about his wacky friend. And that idea lingers throughout the show even after the direct remnants have gone (remnants like: there’s an early episode where everyone acts incredulous with Barney’s plan to dance with girls at a club- because who would want to lol?? Barney, who is NPH in a fitted dress shirt), because sometimes both the writers and the other characters treat Barney like he's a cartoon even in the more dramatic storylines- they don't take him seriously as a character, his motivations and feelings aren't important. There are moments when everyone is legit awful to him in a non-comedy way but it doesn't matter, he doesn't hold it against them and the audience isn't expected to either.  And there’s things like his total absence from Robin's fertility drama when just logically, just from momentum he should be a huge part of it. It becomes confusing when they suddenly take his silly actions seriously and dramatically condemn him for being terrible when the story never treated his worst behaviour as having any basis in reality and yet have given weight to his sympathetic moments before then ignoring them. And this is where it makes sense that Bays 'blames' NPH; it is fundamentally his casting which changed how the writing played and thus changed the way they wrote the character. He is too good-looking and obviously adroit to play the standard harmlessly sleazy, delusional wannabe-womaniser that they imagined, the audience won't react the same way. This instantly complicates the character: Why would a fit, rich, sociable guy capable of being actually charming need elaborate pick up strategies? If he's just a shallow douche why would he latch on to someone like Ted instead of hanging out with other douches? He wouldn't. So why is he like this? His abject loserness becomes interesting instead of self-explanatory and that makes all his glimpses of depth read less 'pitiful clown' and more 'tragic character who can be redeemed'.

We were always supposed to like him- exactly the way Ted likes him in S1, as a sort of spectator sport which we don't for a second approve of and who you only sort of root for because he's so pathetic that any success he has is all part of the comedy. But then they cast someone who is too believable, people root for him unironically, and the show gets sort of weird about How We Feel About Barney and whether he's cool or not. The characters never stop thinking he's disgusting, but they also still encourage him even as he becomes more and more actually successful until his personal mythology is barely a delusion. Him being a successful womaniser who genuinely IS most of the things he claims to be throws his sadness and dissatisfaction with his life into a completely different light, now his pathos is real. After that, seeing his dorkiness and his many esoteric skills is less 'haha embarrassing for the lame wannabe' and more endearing.

Basically they accidentally a really compelling arc and were mad the audience was more interested in this incredibly dynamic, charismatic character who had tonnes of room to grow and change instead of the Dogged Good Guy protagonist who is obligated to be fairly static.

[mrs-evadne-cake]

Hey!! I love your fic. I was just wondering - and yes, i know it's unrealistic - if in an ideal, paradise world Stranger Things decided to go the stoncy route, how would you want them do do it? If you were in the writers' room how would you develop it in a convincing way that fits with the rest of the show? (I'm genuinely curious since you wrote them so well in IASL)

First, thank you so much! 

I mean, first and foremost I always want it to be a little bit of a mess since we’re dealing with a time and place where the word "polyamory" was not in circulation and there was no real poly community or overall awareness of polyamory as a way to be. They might be aware of free love in the ‘60s and the concept of swingers but mostly as far as they’re concerned they’re out here in ‘86 Indiana inventing the concept of a triad and it’s hard enough learning normal relationship skills as a teenager without adding unlearning socialized ideas about exclusivity and jealousy on top of that.

So let these idiots fuck it up a bunch, is what I’m saying. Bring on the return of Nancy ‘Say the Meanest Possible Thing to My Boyfriend(s)’ Wheeler.

How would I make it fit the show...man this would be easier if these three had shared a scene together for more than two minutes since S1. This is probably going to get long so more after the cut!

The show loves to trot out ‘shared trauma’ so in this perfect world they actually remember that it applies to Steve, too. So he’s dating around town but it’s not working out with anyone since it gets really, really awkward trying to explain to the girls he sleeps with why he shouts the name of an ice-cream shop during his nightmares without mentioning Russian spies ‘cause yeah, retail is hell but it’s a little excessive.

With Jonathan gone Nancy starts hanging around with Steve more often because she too remembers that he exists and went through all the same shit with them and that he ramming-speeded a Cadillac Eldorado into Billy Hargrove’s face to save her life, and her entire over-14 support system is gone. Steve thinks its a little unfair (and Robin thinks its a lot unfair) but he still cares about her so he goes along with it and Nancy is sort of surprised by how different he is from S1/Early S2 Steve.

Robin is like ‘Oh so you can lie on truth serum ‘cause you’re definitely still in love with her.’ which Steve vehemently denies. He’s just a good friend, buddy, pal. No romantic feelings at all.  

Jonathan is in Arizona or Illinois or friggin’ Derry, Maine knowing Joyce’s luck obviously very much missing Nancy. They talk on the phone and Nancy mentions that she’s been hanging out with Steve- now this could go either way the ‘Jonathan Byers is An Angel’ route where he’s okay with it right off the bat or the ‘Jonathan Byers remembers how he and Nancy got together the first time and tries to be okay with it because he is above petty normal people things like still being jealous of the ex-high school jock but can’t let it go and the two of them get into a fight. (where Nancy probably says the meanest possible thing to her boyfriend’ route. Obviously I choose the second one.

We get a scene of Jonathan getting worked up talking about it to Will who is like :/ bro, you are mentioning Steve A LOT in this conversation, aren’t you pissed at Nancy?  And Jonathan is taken aback because yeah, he is sort of obsessing about Steve.

Nancy also mentions the fight to Steve because Nancy is bad at this whole ‘don’t put your ex in awkward situations regarding your current relationship’ thing. Steve feels bad.

But before it gets resolved plot stuff kicks off and Joyce and Murray are off to ...sigh...fight evil Russians and free Hopper from a Soviet gulag. Jonathan and Will and El end up back in town however they do and we all wonder why they moved in the first place.

Jonathan, Nancy and Steve end up teamed up FINALLY (In this world Robin ends up on Team El, Max, and Kali because fuck everyone who hates her, Kali is here too and Max deserves her best friend, a big sister, and a tiny super-powered vigilante punk-rock aunt after what they did to her last season. They all kick Brenner’s ass like the last scene in Death Proof, the end) And at some point the boys end up separated from Nancy and try to make awkward conversation and Steve tries to assure him that he’s sorry and he would never get between him and Nancy and once he gets started apologizing he just sort of keeps going-  for all of High school, and if he ever ate his bagels in a really weird way, and for the fight and blaming him and Joyce for Will and calling him queer and the two have a real adult conversation where they bury the hatchet and move past high school.

And because I love the fanfic classics, that’s when a monster tries to eat them and Nancy saves them (bonus points if she uses the bat) and afterward they’re just like, ‘Fuck this town, why do we do this EVERY YEAR’  “I MOVED.’but they obviously realize that they make a really good team and actually enjoy each other’s company. The rest of their plot line has them growing increasingly comfortable with each other as they investigate whatever Nancy has dragged them along to investigate. Jonathan says he was wrong to be jealous and Nancy says of course he was because she’s always right because this is still Nancy motherfucking Wheeler and she will never not be that bitch. 

Monster stuff. The teams all come together. Hopper is back and the evil Russians defeated, yay. Robin is glad Steve is not dead and vice versa and Steve is like where did you pick up the hot punk-rock chick and did you get her number? And Robin is like long story and yes, why is Jonathan Byers looking at you with heart eyes? Which is information that overloads Steve’s brain and he’s almost glad when the series climax where they all fight a giant monster or a hole in the universe happens right then. 

No one dies, or fake dies, or maybe dies or maybe ends up in a Soviet gulag again.

Post- Climax wrap up where we actually see what everyone is doing that night directly after saving the world instead of flashing forward to months later and missing loads and loads of important character moments. After we’ go through everyone else Your Love By The Outfield starts playing because it’s 1986 now and I can FINALLY use it since it was released in ‘85. Steve goes home to (everyone say it with me) an empty house and he seems to debate with himself a little before calling Robin with a question. Nancy and Jonathan are together wherever the Byers’ and Hop are staying when the doorbell rings and it’s Steve who obviously immediately regrets this decision the minute they answer but they bring him inside and the music becomes diegetic as Jonathan puts on the record and closes the bedroom door behind them.

So apparently even in my perfect world where I’m in charge it sort of ends up mostly ramping up to stoncy than pure stoncy over one season. I’m pretty firmly of the opinion that the three of them just messing around in increasingly inclusive ways comes way before any actual poly negotiation or reflection or discussion on their respective sexuality and you can’t show that on PG-13 Netflix so we’re just crashing to black and credits.

 Thanks for the ask anon- sorry to make you wait, I knew this was going to be a monster of a post. And the fact that I just spent like, a hour and a half writing this has made me realize I might be in the mood to *actually* write again, so thanks! 

[enixamyram]

Curious Archer Christmas Chapter 3

  “Alice! Lucy's here.” Robin said, leading the younger girl into the kitchen where Alice was just finishing the last of the mornings washing up.

  “Oh! Perfect!” Alice quickly grabbed the nearest tea towel and dried her hands.

  “You're house looks amazing!” Lucy gasped, looking up over the decorations lining up against the wall leading through the hallway and into the kitchen. “We haven't even started unpacking ours yet.”

  “Yeah, Alice got a little ahead of everyone else.” Robin smirked, walking over and grabbing Alice's coat off the back of one of the table chairs on her way. She handed it to her, kissing Alice's cheek softly.

  Alice paused short of grabbing her bag from the counter, glancing back at her wife. “You sure you're okay with us going ahead without you?”

  “Of course. You've already gone this far.” Robin grinned, waving at the room where little bells were hung over the kitchen windows. “Might as well finish it off. And I trust you to do as good a job with the tree as you have with the rest of the house while I kick back and relax.” Alice still looked hesitant. Robin reached over, rubbing her arms and smiling. “I mean it. Plus, I haven't had a chance to have a proper evening with Leah in a while so this will be a nice chance to catch up for us.”

  “If you're sure.” Alice repeated, then leaned over and kissed her softly. “Won't be too long.”

  “Have fun!” Robin called. She followed them through the hallway and stood in the open door to watch the pair heading out.

  “You didn't want to have a drink or anything before we went, did you?” Alice asked, just after Robin shut the door behind them.

  “No, that’s okay. I'm good.” Lucy grinned, bouncing a little on the spot. “So let's go!”

  Alice giggled, watching Lucy skip slightly ahead of her, in between the animal ornaments and down onto the open streets. It really was lucky to have Henry call the other day. Alice didn't know where to begin looking for a real Christmas tree and while she was able to turn two of their garden bushes into colour changing trees for the front decorations, they were both quite small and couldn't really be called actual trees. Robin probably would have figured something out for them, but Alice would be lying if said she wasn't enjoying being in charge of everything this year.

  “Alice?”

  “Coming.” Alice said, quickly snapping out of her thoughts and following her out through the front gates. “Sorry about that.”

  “It's cool.” Lucy nodded. “So, are you ready to get your perfect tree?”

  “Yup!” Alice grinned, looking down at the smaller girl – wouldn't be long before Lucy would be almost eye level with the way she was growing the past year. “You guys already have yours?”

  “Yeah, dad grabbed one yesterday just before he called you.” Lucy shrugged. “He's really into it.”

  “Aren't you?” Alice blinked.

  “Oh yeah, sure. But just not as much as dad.” Lucy said with an amused eye roll.

  Alice did a small double take, staring down at Lucy curiously for a moment as they made their way towards the edge of town. “You guys must have had the chance to celebrate Christmas a bit back in the Enchanted Forest, though, right? What with Henry being from here originally.”

  “Well, sort of. We kind of celebrated a little but nothing like this.” She waved towards some of the houses who had seemingly copied Alice and gotten their outside decorations set up early.

  “How did you celebrate then?”

  “We had a big fancy dinner with Tiana and everyone all gave one other person a homemade present.” Lucy explained. “The year before the curse, I gave Tiana a flower crown.”

  “That sounds nice.” Alice smiled sadly. “I wish I could have visited you guys more.”

  “Why didn't you?” Lucy asked.

  Alice paused, thinking the question over carefully before answering. “Papa didn't have very many friends left after I was born. He gave up his ship and his crew along with it and spent his whole life looking after me back in my tower. If I went to the castle then papa wouldn't be able to, because of the curse on his heart, so it didn't really seem fair, especially since he was much closer to everyone there than I was. And I still had Rumplestiltskin and Robin to keep me company anyway, but he didn’t have anyone else.”

  “I'm sorry you had to be separated for so long.” Lucy said quietly, then added brightly; “It must be nice being together again!”

  “It is.” Alice beamed, immediately her earlier sadness fading away.

  They kept walking passed the last few houses set up in this area while Alice began to happily describe the things she planned to do with her papa on their first Christmas together here in Storybrooke – after she had spent some quality Christmas time with Robin first, of course. And Lucy responded by describing what her Christmas was going to be like. It was going to be a lot busier than Alice's. The morning was going to be with her parents, and lunch was going to spent going with Emma's family to the Nolan farm, and finally, then a calm dinner spent with Regina before retiring home again.

  “Won't you be tired?” Alice blinked, thinking to what Robin said about her favourite Christmas being a nice easy-going and relaxing one where you didn’t really have to do much all day.

  “Probably!” Lucy grinned. “I can't wait!”

  Before Alice could say anything else, they had reached a large fenced off area with a dozen brightly coloured Christmas trees wrapped around the fences gaps, flashing brightly and attracting any attention the large sign overheard missed. Inside the gated area was over a dozen trees, all bright green and waiting crowded into the small space just a little way away from the rest of the town’s houses. Otherwise there wasn’t much else to it, but Alice could feel a genuine joy coming from the simplicity of it that made her instantly smile as they approached the front entrance.

  There were a couple people that could be seen wandering in between the trees, examining the barks and leafs with fine details and talking deeply about each of them like it was a life of death decision they could only make once. And they barely paused to talk to anyone that hadn’t arrived with them, though they certainly weren’t unfriendly about it. There were a couple large families grouped together, but more than that, there were a lot of fathers out only with their kids. Most of the kids were young, and they were running around without control while their dads struggled to keep an eye on them while they also searched for their own perfect tree.

  “Have you ever gotten a Christmas tree before?” Alice asked as they stepped through the gates and into the first set of trees.

  “No.” Lucy said, looking around slowly. “Mum never saw the point of cutting a tree down just for a day.”

  “And now she does?”

  “Dad wore her down.” Lucy grinned.

  “Can I help you young ladies?”

  They had just started down the first line when they heard the voice, drawing them to a stop. The girls turned around to find an older man stepping from in between the nearby trees, making his way forward and light brushing himself down. It wasn't someone either of them recognised. But he had a bright and friendly face and Alice wondered if he hadn't intentionally grown a grey shaded beard in order to go with the overall theme of the season. He was tightly wrapped in winter clothes and was quite large, making Alice wonder how he had squeezed in between the trees so easily without them noticing.

  “We're fine.” Alice said, repeating what Robin always said whenever they went shopping and were offered assistance. “Just looking.”

  “No problem, just come find me when you're ready to buy something or if you need any help at all.” The man said, nodding his head and turning to a pair of newcomers who looked completely lost the second they stepped through the gates.

  “So,” Lucy said. “Dad always said the most important parts of finding a tree, are looking at the shape, size and colour.”

  “They all look the same to me...” Alice mumbled, glancing around and pulling a face.

  “Yeah, me too...” Lucy admitted before shrugging. “Guess that means they're all good?”

  Alice wandered towards the trees nearer the back and paused in front of them, reaching and feeling the rough leaf stretching towards her, taking it between her fingers gently. They were all very nice, brightly green and tall and healthy, just like she imagined... And yet something just wasn't right about any of them. It was like they looked the part, smelled the part and physically felt the part... But there was a second feeling that was getting in the way and telling Alice that they still weren’t what she was looking for. A spiritual feeling. Like Alice could see the trees aura and sense that it wasn't the right tree after all.

  “Found one?” Lucy asked, stepping up beside her.

  Alice sighed. “No. None of these.”

  Lucy paused, looking up at the trees and frowning. “What's wrong with them?”

  “They're just not right.” Alice explained, waving her hand helplessly before moving along the line and tracing her hand gently over their branches as she went.

  Lucy trailed along behind her, watching as Alice took her time examine all the trees she passed with a gentle touch. They continued to all look the same to her, so she couldn't understand what it was Alice was looking for. When her dad had picked up their tree, he'd barely looked past the front view he had of it before paying the seller and dragging it onto the back of Granddad David's truck to get home as soon as possible. So Alice taking her time was not only weird... It was also kind of boring.

  “Any luck?” Lucy pressed as they turned a corner and started down a new line of trees, once again all looking exactly the same as their neighbours.

  “Not yet.”

  Lucy huffed and slouched slight, stalking after her. She'd been the one to volunteer herself to help Alice find her perfect tree but she hadn't expected it to take so long when she did. What was Alice even looking for?

  “How about this one?” Lucy asked, stepping up to one of the largest trees near the front.

  “No... Not that one.” Alice mumbled, walking passed her.

  “One of these?” Lucy said, dancing around her and waving at three perfect clone-like trees standing side by side each other.

  “No...”

  Lucy let out a long breath from between her teeth, letting Alice drift passed before rolling her eyes. This was getting really dumb. What exactly was it Alice would hoping would happen? One of the trees would step out and start dancing in front of her, begging to be picked?

  “Alice. Maybe you should just, magic your own tree? Like the ones in your garden.” Lucy suggested, trailing after her.

  “It wouldn't be right.” Alice explained. “Those are just little decorations I made out of a couple of bushes. I need a real proper Christmas tree for our first year together.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes again, this time being caught by Alice and flushing guiltily in response. Luckily Alice noticed, but didn't mind. It wasn't the first time someone had given her that kind of look or thought her odd for the way she did things. That didn't change anything for her. They were here for her and she was going to take as much time as she needed in order to find her perfect tree. She had her reasons for dragging it out. It was around here somewhere, she could practically sense it, but it was being confused with all the similar trees around it and Alice just needed to take some time to track it down.

  “Alice... Do you think maybe we should try somewhere else?” Lucy asked after they had wandered around in a complete circle. “Maybe you should check the woods and see if there are any that haven't been uprooted or cut down yet that you like?”

  “Maybe...” Alice sighed, finally coming to a stop. She still had a strong sense pulling at her, but she couldn't seem to find where it was coming from. She was beginning to think that maybe it was actually just her imagination was getting the best of her. Alice had let herself get a little carried away in her excitement so it wasn’t quite so farfetched to say it was all in her head.

  “Want to go round once more?” Lucy sighed.

  Alice nodded, eagerly walking ahead and once again reaching out a hand to stroke over the remaining trees. If anyone ever got in her way, she calmly stepped to the side and waiting for them to pass before moving back to her place and resuming her quick pace around the gated area. Lucy followed behind, feeling more and more like this quick favour was turning into an irritating chore. She was seconds away from pulling out her phone and calling her mother for an excuse to leave, when suddenly Alice came to a stop in the furthest corner from the entrance, staring at a pair of trees pressed closely together side by side.

  “Found something?” Lucy asked, moving up beside her.

  “I think so...” Alice mumbled, reaching and touching the trees but even they didn't feel right. Yet there was something here...

  “Alice?”

  Alice ignored her, pushing one of the tree branches aside when she thought she had caught sight of something hidden in the back behind them. When she realized there was definitely something there, Alice didn't hesitate, grabbing the two trees and moving them out the way to reveal the one behind them.

  It was skinnier than all the other trees and a lot of its leafy branches had touches of brown along the tips that grow more obvious and visible the closer you came to the top. There were also a dozen patches along the bottom of the tree that were bare and broken like someone had stolen stretches of it and snapped off the rest. It was a little sad looking and Alice was momentarily distracted by its appearance before she felt the very thing she had been searching for, that sense she had been following… It had led her to this tree.

  “Ugh,” Lucy said, pulling a face and wrinkled her nose like she could smell something foul. “That one looks half dead.”

  “Looks are misleading.” Alice said softly, crossing her arms and smiling at it. “This is our tree.”

  “Wait, seriously?” Lucy blinked. “But... It's ugly.”

  “No, it's perfect.” Alice said, turning and waving down the man from earlier, waiting for him to approach before happily waving back to the tree. “I'd like this one, please.”

  The man did a quick double take, opening his mouth like he was going to question her, then thought better about talking client out of a sale, especially over one he would never be able to sell otherwise. Instead he forced a smile and politely asked for half the price of the other trees, accepting Alice's money and asking if she needed help getting it home.

  “No, thank you. We can manage.” Alice beamed, watching the guy wander off, shaking his head as soon as his back was turned to her.

  “So...” Lucy raised an eyebrow. “How are we getting this all the way back to yours? Should I call my dad?” She couldn’t help but worry it would collapse into dust before they were even halfway but chose to keep that thought to herself for now.

  “I got it.” Alice said, taking a breath and flicking her hands out in front of her. She shut her eyes just as the smoke gathered around the three of them. Once it had cleared a moment later, they found themselves back in Alice's home, standing in the middle of the living room with the tree already settled in its chosen corner.

  Lucy glanced around in surprise before looking up at Alice and smiling. “I love magic.” She grinned.

C*H*R*I*S*T*M*A*S

  When Robin came home, early that evening, Lucy had already headed off back home. She had stayed a few extra hours to accept some biscuits and sweets Alice offered in payment for her help, but had declined Alice's other offer to help decorate the tree. Lucy loved putting the decorations on the tree, but she was still secretly afraid that if she so much as lightly touched the tree then the brittle bark would fall apart at her feet and the last thing she wanted was to have that on her conscious and feel at blame for ruining Alice and Robin’s Christmas. She still didn't quite understand what Alice saw in it, or why she thought the fading old tree was something special when it really looked more like compost than a real Christmas tree. But Alice seemed to really believe in it, so Lucy kept her mouth shut, ate her reward, gave her a hug goodbye and head off for home, looking forward to telling her mum about what happened. Maybe she or her dad could explain Alice's weird decision.

  So when Robin stepped inside the house, she paused to dust her feet off on the mat and shivered against the cold breeze chasing after her. She eagerly slipped into the living room to escape it and searched for the warm fire to heat her goose pimpled skin. She barely noticed the last of the boxes had finally been cleared out and didn't even glance in the corner as she dropped down by the fire, holding her hands up and breathing a sigh of relief. She loved this time of year, but she hated the cold weather so damn much. But then, she also hated the hot weather.

  Summer was too hot and winter was too damn cold. Yeah, Robin was definitely more of an autumn person.

  “You're back!” Alice said, stepping into the room and grinning. “Have you seen the tree?”

  “Oh, right,” Robin stood, rubbing her hands together and turning with a big smile. Only for it to drop again as soon as she could sight of it.

  Unlike everything else in and outside of the house, Alice seemed to have decided to do a minimal job on the tree. It had a very thin line of tinsel and only golden bobbles hanging from a select number of the tree’s strongest branches, with a bright white and silver angel balanced at the very top, along with fake snow and tinsel flakes lying around its base. It was all nicely done but the lack of decorations made the tree itself stand out more, which would have been well enough if not for the fact that the tree wasn't the fluffy and bright green that Robin had been expecting Alice to get. Instead it was a rusty brown in some places and broken and bare in others. And even though Alice had clearly done her best to cover those parts with the choice decorations she had used, it was impossible to hide them all.

  “What do you think?” Alice asked, moving to stand behind Robin, sliding her arms around her waist and resting her chin on her shoulder.

  “Nice.” Robin said quickly, glancing slowly up and down at it. “Were there... Not many left?”

  Alice shrugged against her. “No, not really. There were plenty of others but this one kind of called to me. Like I could sense something in it.”

  Robin struggled to find the right words. “Um... Sensed something? Like what exactly?”

  “I don't really know.” Alice said, letting go to stand beside her and still smiling proudly. “I think it might be something to do with my magic. But I can just tell there's something about this tree. The others were all fine and they'd get good homes, sure. But this one has something that made it stand out. Something that deserved to be taken in.”

  “Oh. Cool.” Robin nodded.

  “You don't get it, do you?” Alice asked.

  “Not really.” Robin admitted. “I mean... Could you use your magic to make the tree healthier, maybe?” Alice hesitated, opening her mouth nervously. “You don't want to?”

  “It's just. It's not unhealthy, Robin. It's just older than the other trees.” Alice explained. “I don't see why it needs to be changed. The brown shows its years and the missing parts are like its scars. They show it's been through a lot but it's still standing, tall and beautiful as ever.” Her voice took on a prideful burst and she beamed up at it again.

  But it's so ugly! Robin internally screamed, then shook her head. What did that even mean? Who cares if it wasn't the prettiest tree? Alice was right, it was experienced and there was nothing wrong with that. And could Robin really complain about the tree she got when Alice had put so much thought and effort, not just into them, but the whole house? No one in town had worked harder than her, and she hadn't asked for anything in return. There was no way Robin could demand she get rid of the tree after all that. “I like it.” Robin lied, smiling and sliding an arm around Alice. “You picked a great tree, love.”

  Liar. Alice thought, but smiled back and kissed the side of Robin’s mouth. It was okay. Whether or not Robin could understand her, Alice stood by her decision, still very sure from the good feeling she got from it.

[sebeth]

Young Justice: Independence Day, Fireworks, and Stopover

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

 My goal is to re-watch the Young Justice series and re-read the comics before the January 4th launch of Young Justice: Outsiders.  Let’s begin.

Episode 1: “Independence Day”

July 4th: We begin, appropriately enough, on the United States’ Independence Day.  The title will have multiple meanings by the end of the first two episodes:  the kids’ semi-independence from their mentors and Superboy’s freedom from the Cadmus Project.

Do cold villains hate the Fourth of July?

Dick is the only Robin who would have laughter as a trademark.

“Juniors doing this for attention?” – One of my favorite parts of this series is the depth of knowledge for the characters of the DC Universe – even the obscure ones.  The current Icicle is a “junior” – his father was the original Icicle of the Golden Age era.  As a huge fan of the B through D list characters, I have a huge appreciation for anyone who remembers the small details.

Kaldur was an interesting choice as he was a new but fairly obscure character when Young Justice debuted. Garth would have been the more logical choice as he was a founding member of the Titans along with Dick, Roy, and Wally.

I admit I wondered why the series was called Young Justice because all I was seeing were the founding members of the Titans at this point (minus Garth and Donna).

“You’ll chat it up with the cops, the bystanders, with Cold even.” – One sentence reveals so much of Barry’s personality.

“I knew we’d be the last ones here.” – Again, a Barry trait.

“Speedy is Green Arrow’s sidekick.” “Well, that makes no sense.” – Accurate.

“Why isn’t anyone just whelmed?” – Dick’s mangling of the English language begins.

“02” – The assigned numbers correspond with the members joining the team.  The way to my heart is the small details.

Roy has a huge hissy even by his impatient, hot-headed nature.  We discover the reason later in the series.

“We could make an exception.” – Really, the Justice League wouldn’t allow their proteges on the Watchtower? Why?

Zatara and Wotan! Yay, obscure characters for the win!

“Glad you didn’t bring you know who?” Foreshadowing!

The boys invade Cadmus in all its glory: Guardian, G-Nomes, Genomorphs, Dubbilex, and, of course, Superboy.

“Dr. Desmond” is a hint for his upcoming transformation. The “Blockbuster” label confirms it.

Wally is a science nerd. Makes sense with Barry as a mentor.

“File KR” – another hint.

“Sub-level 52”. – DC does love its 52.

Superboy!  Looking more like the Teen Titans-era version than the early, scrawny, fresh out of the pod version.

Hack! – Tim is typically the Robin most associated with computers.  To be fair, the Internet was pretty much non-existent when Dick and Jason were Robin.

Superboy, unsurprisingly, curb-stomps the team.

 Episode 2: “Fireworks”

First appearance of the Light aka the Cadmus Board of Directors.            

“Clone them.” – We later discover that one sidekick has already been cloned.

Dubbilex, the sneaky traitor, awakens the boys.

“Project: Sidekick” – Desmond is so imaginative when it comes to naming projects.

“He can talk.”

“Yes, he can.”

“Not like I said it.

Wally, listen to Dick and Kaldur and keep your mouth shut.

Kaldur is clearly the wisest of the original group.

“Batcave’s crowded enough.” – Well, it’s been said three is a crowd.

“What would Superman do?” – Everyone should apply this standard to their decisions.

“Don’t you give me orders either.” – I can see why it would be a sensitive issue – his whole life (all 16 weeks) has been controlled by others.

“You can leap tall buildings in a single bound.  Still cool.” – Sweet Wally being supportive.

“Don’t apologize. This is perfect.” – That’s how you know Dick was raised by the Batman.

“I finally have room to move.” – Yeah, speed is more useful when you have to space to run.

“Grab something from Project Blockbuster.” – If you were familiar with the villain, you knew what was about to happen.

“The Genomorph hero.” – Unfortunately, this bit wasn’t followed up on.

“Everyone back.” – Protective Guardian for the win.  Sadly, he’s outmatched by Blockbuster.

“Got your nose.” – Gross!

“You incredible bulk.” – Shout out to the competition.

Oh, look at protective Superboy and Aqualad covering their more delicate teammates.

The League arrives with Superman taking point.

Not loving Hawkgirl/woman’s costume.

Poor Kal breaks Superboy’s heart.  Bad Kal!  I understand Clark’s upset and confusion but don’t take it out on the newborn child.

“All 52 levels.” – Again, DC loves the 52.

“Why let them tell us what to do.  It’s simple.  Get on board or get out of the way.” – Superboy declares the true mission statement of Young Justice.

Red Tornado as team supervisor is a nod to the comic book version of Young Justice.

I did like the addition of Black Canary as team trainer.  It’s a nice nod to Dinah’s combat skills which Gail Simone spent most of the 2000s building up.

“This is the Martian Manhunter’s niece.” – Another surprise choice as Miss Martian wasn’t very well known in the comics.  Never will a character start out so cute and then devolve into creepiness.

M’gann’s obsession with Superboy begins immediately.  We’ll discover why later in the season.

 Young Justice #1: Stopover

The issue begins immediately after Superboy declares “Get on board or get out of the way.”

“Give me three days” Batman responds.

The group then realizes Superboy has nowhere to go in the meantime.

Kid Flash brings Superboy to Central City.  Wally explains the situation to his parents.  There is a cute moment when Mrs. West corrects Wally’s grammar: “Robin, Aqualad, and I…”

Superboy interjects with a “You weren’t there.”

Cadmus clearly didn’t instruct Superboy in conversation nuances.

Mrs. West informs Wally that he “leads a very strange life.  But we’re use to it. Largely.”

Wally’s parents are way more understanding and supportive than they are in the main DC Universe.

Wally’s parents ask Superboy’s name.  Wally responds “I call him Supey.  I think he likes it.” Conner doesn’t look like he likes it.

We stop in on Kaldur and Arthur’s return journey to Atlantis.

Kaldur: “We meant no disrespect.”

Arthur: “I would not be much of a king if I did not allow my subjects freedom of expression. Especially when their words carry such wisdom.”

Somewhere, Garth is wondering why he never had this type of relationship with Arthur.

Conner wonders “Think Superman knows I’m here?”

Wally awkwardly reassures Conner that Superman knows he’s in Central City.

Wally awakens the next day to find Conner sleeping upright in his closet. Conner informs Wally that he is not “used to sleeping in a bed.  Your closet reminded me of my Cadmus pod.  Except for the funny smells.”

Poor Conner.  A bed shouldn’t be a foreign concept.

The boys spend the day vegging in front of the tv.  Conner is very bored.  Each panel has Wally eating something different: a bag of chips, pizza, and a bucket of fried chicken.

Nice nod to Wally’s metabolism.

Late in the day a card arrives with a credit cart addressed to Wally “for expenses.”

Superboy wonders if it’s from Superman.

Wally vaguely confirms it’s from Superman with a “who else could it be from” even though he’s clearly aware it was sent by Batman.

Wally is so sweet – he keeps trying to reassure that, of course, Superman would care about Conner’s location and well-being.

Batman is also a very sweet Bat-Dad this issue.  Bruce would deny it but he was consistently sweet and supportive to Conner in the first season.  None of the other Leaguers thought Conner would need money to buy basic essentials like clothes.  Or that the middle-class Wests would need financial support to care for Superboy.  Wally’s appetite alone has to put a serious dent in their income.

If Wally hadn’t offered, I’m positive Bruce would have taken Conner back to the Batcave.  If for no other reason than Alfred wouldn’t have been thrilled with the idea of an underage child being left alone.  Batman would have also thought of the risks of leaving Conner on his own – Cadmus operatives could have tried to regain custody of a lone Superboy.

The boys head to the mall to shop for clothes.  A nice easter egg is the name of the store the boys enter: “Forever Sixteen”. Conner was genetically locked in that age for some time in the comics.

Conner buys multiple copies of the same black shirt.  Not someone who’s big on fashion.

We bop over to Gotham where Dick is impatiently wondering what Bruce is doing in the Batcave – it’s been almost two and a half days!

Alfred patiently reminds Dick that when one says three days, one means three days.

Poor Alfred has the patience of a saint.  Imagine what the poor man endures on a daily basis: Bruce in all his glory; hyper, energetic Dick, Jason’s explosiveness, Damian’s demanding arrogance, and Stephanie’s boisterousness.  Tim, Cassie, and Duke are the quieter children. They don’t cause Alfred as much fuss.

Back to the mall where Wally and Conner encounter Tommy and Tuppence, the Terror Twins – the same twins that Conner and M’gann impersonate at Belle Reve.

Flash and Superman arrive on the scene of the fight.  Conner mutters a single “Superman” before Clark flees from the scene.  To be fair, he was pursuing the Terror Twins but he couldn’t even offer a “hi” before he left?

Flash tells the boys to go home.  Barry will pick the boys up in the morning because “Batman has made his decision”.

Honestly, Batman made his decision as soon as he told the kids “three days”. Bruce simply needed the three days to implement his plan.

Conner asks Wally if “Superman will be there tomorrow”. Wall responds “Uh, sure, you know…if there’s no emergency somewhere.”

Conner’s downcast face shows he doesn’t believe Wally’s statement.

Conner asks Wally “Why’d you invite me to stay with you?”

“Well, un, Aqualad lives underwater.  And the Batcaves’s kind of a big secret. So I figured it’d be cool for us to hang.”

Conner smiles after Wally’s statement.

Wally is so sweet and supportive in this issue.  It also shows that Wally is very trusting.  He is inviting Superboy into his home with his civilian parents – and he knows how easily Conner curbstomped the entire team.  But Wally knows Conner is one of the good guys and doesn’t even hesitate to bring him to Central City.

The issue ends with the final moments of the second episode.

[charmingturkeysandwich]

COMPLETE! Knock, Knock Ch. 27/27

The epilogue is here! I’ve loved writing this story more than I can even explain and I hope that you all enjoy where it’s ended up. It makes me inordinately happy and I hope you can feel at least a little of that. Let me know what you think? Maybe? 

Thank you for reading!

Read on AO3.

Start from the beginning on tumblr.

So many things get easier the older you get, the more life experience you have.

Moving is not one of those things.

Despite having more money, more help, more space, and more time… moving still fucking sucked.

In fact, if it weren’t for the bitter memories of filling up the last house from scratch, Emma would just burn all this shit and start over. But that was an overreaction. She was just stressed. Moving did that to you.

And kids did that to you, too.

The business had been great. In the last year, she and Killian had invested in another whole ship and small crew. They’d been on the water nearly every good-weather day with some kind of touring group, and spent the entire off-season taking classes and attending conventions and getting all kinds of educational certificates and accolades.

Schools from towns a hundred miles away were booking trips with them. The summer camps had waiting lists a mile long. And finally – finally – Emma had been able to work out a grant deal that allowed the kids who couldn’t afford the camp to actually attend.

To say she’d been riding a high for the last 365 days would sound like an overstatement, but it still felt deeply true.

She and Killian still had their share of problems. Killian nearly kicked her out of the house a few times (exaggeration) over her inability to put her clothes back in their closet and Emma had a few mild meltdowns over Killian not closing the shower curtain when he left the bathroom (do you want mold, Killian?!), but they were happy. Their life was successful, joyful, beautiful, and now – growing.

“How did we decide to transport the mugs, love?” Killian called from the kitchen, his Captain Hook mug in one hand and Emma’s Princess one in the other.

“Shit ton of bubble wrap, I guess?” she called back, still trying to pack away all of their photo frames without breaking anything.

She’d known when they moved into this house it was going to be a “starter home,” a place they rented until they were able to truly put down roots. She just hadn’t anticipated those roots sprouting so damn fast. But here they were, ready to upgrade from 2 bedrooms to 3, from tiny yard to acreage, from couple to family.

It all started back in spring, their grant funding having come through and Emma celebrating by visiting the local group home that would benefit from it.  It was tough seeing that many kids without homes, without support, but their enthusiasm for the coming summer was tangible. They were so excited about the freedom of the open water that they were actually interested in learningand so Emma sat down with them and started sharing some of the things they’d be covering – from the history of New England to the creatures of the ocean to how fishermen bring us home our dinner. All the kids were captivated and gathered around Emma, but two of them stood out the most for her.

Hovering near the back of the crowd and huddled together like they were riding out a storm were two young girls, enthralled in Emma’s words but seemingly afraid to come any closer.

Emma knew all too well what that felt like – without the benefit of someone to cling to.

Afterward she’d asked the director of the group home about the two of them. Ava and Anastasia had been in the group home for a few months now, their last foster home having returned them for being “too needy” and “a burden on the household.” They wouldn’t leave each other, the man explained, not after having gotten separated from their parents just before they were murdered by some kind of drug lord.

Their parents hadn’t been perfect, obviously messed up with some troubled and dangerous people, but they’d been loving parents, dedicated to giving their girls a good life, one better than they’d had. Emma could respect that desire (while simultaneously wanting to punch them for having put their children in this situation). Ava and Ana didn’t have any other family, their parents having been an orphan and a runaway themselves, and so the girls just drifted through life, seemingly unwanted.

Emma couldn’t have it.

So she went home that afternoon and told Killian about them, determined to find them someone who could help.

“We could contact CASA? With a Court Appointed Special Advocate, they’re far more likely to get adopted,” Emma offered, her fingers busily tapping away on her phone.

“Or we could do the obvious,” Killian said after a long pause.

“The obvious?” Emma had echoed, clearly needing some further cues as to what was apparently right in front of her.

“We could foster them.”

And so the next day they’d applied to be foster parents. When they indicated they were interested in fostering the girls, they began doing weekly visits with them, allowing them to gauge if it would be a good fit.

At first they were beyond shy. They hardly spoke and when they did they seemed to be afraid that what they said had been the wrong thing. Or something. But Killian and Emma just kept coming, kept telling them stories of their times on the ship, of their painful pasts, of the things they liked to do for fun on the weekends when they weren’t sailing. Bit by bit the girls started sharing more of themselves. At first everything was framed as “we.” No matter which of them spoke – usually Ava, though – it was always a collective answer. We love dogs. We have a red wooden sled. We’ve never had homemade pizza. But gradually they began to cling to one another less, to speak about something they liked individually.

Ava, it seemed, was just a little bit more like Emma. She was very physical – loved sports and adventure. Anastasia, on the other hand, was very analytical. She was good with numbers and liked to make plans. A lot like Killian.

Every week’s visit proved more and more that they could do this. They could be foster parents to these 8 and 10 year old girls.

And so, just as summer was beginning, the girls gathered their black trash bags full of what belongings they’d kept and they stood outside the group home waiting for Killian and Emma. When they arrived, Emma promptly opened the trunk of the car and pulled two different sets of luggage – purple for Ava and pink for Anastasia – and insisted they transfer their things, leaving behind that black garbage bag forever.

“But Emma, I might need it again,” Anastasia mumbled, hesitating to pick up her new luggage.

“Sweetheart, this is yours now. No matter where you go, you’ll take this with you. The things you own are yours and they’re absolutely not trash. Your stuff matters and you matter.

Ana was quiet, playing with the blue drawstrings on the garbage bag and scraping her feet against the sidewalk. “I don’t want to have to go anywhere again,” she finally said.

“And we’re hoping you won’t have to,” Killian added from behind her, his arms full of Ava’s things as she packed them into her new suitcase.

It was certainly an adjustment having two more people in the house. Dinners were a total fiasco, some days, Killian still trying to figure out portions and who liked what. Emma decided they should invest in a dishwasher, a convenience they didn’t think they should splurge on when it was just the two of them. But now the dishes would pile up like crazy and it just wasn’t worth all the effort to hand wash several days’ worth at a time. So they caved.

They bought a lot of things that summer. A swing set for their small back yard. The cutest bunkbed set you’d ever seen (yes, it was shaped like a ship and yes, they were that cliché).

Ava and Ana loved their room, decorating it in every color you could imagine with pictures of animals and boats and pop singers all over. They were still fairly shy and at times uncertain of their place in the home, but they continued to open up every day they spent in the Swan/Jones household.

Their friends had all been so supportive. Robin and Regina often came over to visit, bringing pizza and video games with them. Belle would, predictably, bring them books, but she also offered to take them for rides in her police car (at first, that had upset them – the last time they’d seen police vehicles was their parents’ death. But Belle was determined to show them the good side of it all, and it seemed she’d won them over). Even Will enjoyed their company, his own humor leaning toward the immature side giving him a little boost in conversation. And Ruby – she would Skype them and talk about Seattle and beg them all to come and visit (you know, after Killian and Emma were removed from the no-fly list).

No one was happier than Mary Margaret and David. Constantly exhausted with their infant, they loved spending time with kids who actually spoke and the two of them would “babysit” often when both Killian and Emma were needed on their ships.

Mostly they’d started taking turns leading the groups, insistent that the girls be with them as often as possible. So much so that the girls actually participated in every single age-appropriate excursion they offered. At first they’d been part of the learning groups, completing the activities with the “class,” but eventually they graduated to being Killian and Emma’s little helpers, aiding the other students as they learned.

It had been simply amazing to watch them blossom like that, all in the span of a few months.

“Can you believe this is our life now?” Emma had whispered one night, tucked away in their bed in the wee hours of the morning.

“Aye, I can. I think it’s what I’ve always wanted, love. If you can believe that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They asked the girls if they could adopt them on a Sunday. Killian had made sure his ship wasn’t booked for anything that day, and they’d gone sailing on a purely non-work adventure, Emma and him showing Ava how to steer and Anastasia how to tie knots. Once they’d found a good, calm spot of open ocean, Killian had dropped anchor and sat the girls down, Emma nervously clinging to his arm.

“We were wondering…” Killian began, looking back and forth between the now even-more-nervous-than-Emma children.

“We want to adopt you!” Emma shouted, unable to allow that fearful look in her girls’ eyes any longer.

(She knew the feeling of waiting for someone to tell you they were sending you back. Doing it nicely or not – it didn’t really matter to a lost girl. It hurt all the same. And bracing for it was a pain all its own.)

“Yes!” Ava screamed, jumping up and into Emma’s arms. The two of them were giggling and hugging and purely ecstatic – until they realized that Anastasia hadn’t said a word.

“Ana, sweetheart, is that OK? Do you want us to be your home?” Killian asked, kneeling in front of the still-shocked, scared kid.

“But… are you sure? What if you leave us?”

“They’re not leaving, Ana! Stop being such a baby,” Ava snapped.

“Mom and dad weren’t going to leave us either!” Anastasia returned, her face flushed and her arms shaking.

It wasn’t like them to fight and it had nearly broken Emma to watch, but emotions came out in odd ways. It had to play out as it would.

“They never promised that, you know. But Emma and Killian promised. And they don’t break promises. Right?” Ava looked to Killian, her eyes boring into his.

“Never.”

Damn, what a difference a couple years could make.

-

Paperwork.

Paperwork was the fucking worst.

Killian’s hand was cramped from all the forms, the signing, the checklists, the mortgages and loans and adoption papers and marriage licenses.

Yep, marriage licenses. You’d think a committed couple who owned a successful business together could adopt a couple of kids with no trouble, but, you know, you’d be wrong. They wanted proof of all kinds of things, including “stability.” Which apparently meant married.

So he’d been robbed of the grand proposal he’d always envisioned, settling instead for an exasperated, “well I guess we’ll get married then,” in the uncomfortable chairs at the lawyer’s office.

“How romantic,” Emma had grumbled, making Killian feel even worse about himself than he already did. But, in the end, they knew it didn’t matter. They were going to be together always, were already partners and were now going to be a team – them and their girls (and hopefully a dog, once they moved into the bigger house).

They decided on a courthouse wedding, planning it for three days later (they had to get the blasted paperwork in order). Telling their friends hadn’t been a fun task – the men’s horror at a lack of bachelor party quite comical – but they were supportive in the end (of course).

So supportive, in fact, that they all showed up. To the least impressive wedding in all of time and space.

And he meant all of them showed up. When Emma and Killian and Ava and Anastasia opened the courthouse doors and started walking down the marble hallway, they were greeted by Mary Margaret, David, baby Leo, Regina, Belle, Will, Robin, Ruby, and Whale – all leaned against the wall as there simply wasn’t enough seating in such a small space.

The magistrate led them to a tiny room, certainly not suited for 14 people, and proceeded to marry the leather-clad couple in a 5-minute ceremony that culminated in a quick kiss on the lips and a giant family group hug that the magistrate remarked was the oddest thing he’d yet seen at one of these proceedings.

(Odd was kind of their thing, Killian had thought.)

Rings exchanged and house bought, the big old friends-turned-family began the grueling process of lugging all of their shit from one place to the next, Emma and Killian finally finding their permanent home (you know, the literal, physical kind. Metaphorically they’d obviously found that long ago in one another – and now in Anastasia and Ava).

Emma had been cranky as all hell. Moving was awful, he, of course, agreed, but Emma was simply not having it.

“Emma, where do you think we should put the linens?”

“Ugh, I don’t care!” She’d snapped in return, slumping against the bookshelf she was currently emptying.

“Come on, Em! I know it’s awful, but we’re going to have a yard!” Ava called, proudly dragging around her suitcase, despite the fact they wouldn’t be leaving officially until the next day.

“And a dog! Don’t forget the dog,” Anastasia added, her nose still firmly planted in the latest Hardy Boys book Belle had brought over.

“Of course,” Emma had chuckled, reaching out for Ava and pulling her into a bear hug. “Can’t forget that.”

The next morning was an absolute mess. Really, he’d assumed that more help meant fewer problems, but it was seeming that the opposite was true. Too many people had too many different organizational strategies and opinions and attitudes and complaints and was it actually possible to hate your own belongings this much?

But they’d survived it. All their crap made it to the new house – the anchor-clad pillows and afghans only having fallen in a smallmud puddle on the way – and the family was what you would call pooped.

“Can we clear off the couch and watch a movie, Killy?” Killian grinned at Ava’s new nickname for him, but his face fell when he realized he couldn’t actually tell her yes.

“I’ve no clue where the DVD player is, love. And we don’t have wi-fi yet, so no Netflix.”

“I could read us a book!” Ana offered, Ava groaning (comically).

“Or Killy could tell us a story,” Emma said, her eyes alight with warmth and glee, despite her exhaustion. She leaned into him and he gave her a tight squeeze, reveling in their new life.

“Once upon a time there lived a pirate who worked on Wall Street,” he began, his girls all working together to clear off the couch for them to pile onto it.

“What’s Wall Street?” Anastasia interjected, tossing a box of Emma’s old files into the corner.

“Oh, a terrible place full of greedy people.”

“Killian, don’t vilify finance for them already. Anastasia might turn out to be a hell of a broker someday.”

“Swan, language,” Killian gasped, earning chuckles from his girls.

The four of them plopped onto the couch, Anastasia curling into Emma and Ava sitting directly on Killian lap, Emma intertwining her fingers with Killian’s as he continued his story. “The pirate had all the treasure in the world, but then he lost a great love, and he thought his life was going to be empty forever.”

“But it’s not, right?” Ana nervously interjected (always the interrupter, his little girl).

“Don’t worry, my love, this story has the happiest of happy endings.”

When the story was finished and the yawning had overtaken the talking, Killian and Emma led the girls to their very own bedrooms. Not much was set up in each, of course, but their beds were made and for the first time in their lives, these girls had their own spaces.

Killian and Emma had provided that for them and the swell of pride and love in his heart at that thought was something he’d never felt before. When he’d fallen in love with his feisty, beautiful, headstrong neighbor, he’d thought his heart could never have been fuller – not after she’d confessed she loved him, too. But now – now it’s like his insides had gotten bigger to make room for more feelings he’d never dreamed he’d have.

It took longer than he hoped for them to simply find the pajama boxes and set up the toiletries, but within the hour, the girls were all ready for bed, Emma and Killian each taking turns tucking them in.

“But I’ve never slept alone,” Ava whispered, clutching a pillow. “Ana’s always been with me. I could always call her name and she’d answer me and I’d know we were going to be OK.”

“Oh, my little love. She’s not far,” Killian soothed, a perfect remedy popping into mind.

How appropriate this should come full circle, he thought.

“You know, Emma and I used to live apart. And we didn’t like being alone either.”

“I know. You were neighbors, though, so you weren’t far away.”

“Exactly. And now so are you and your sister. She’s just through this wall, you know,” Killian said, his hand resting on the wall behind Ava’s head. “And she’s probably feeling scared and sad just like you. So you can reach back just like this and give the wall a little knock, knock, letting Ana know you’re here.”

“Like this, Killy?” Ava balled her fist and hesitantly tapped her knuckles against the wall.

He couldn’t hear any conversation or movement from the other side – their house had properly insulated walls and all – but the return knock, knock came quickly.

“See? Ana’s OK, over there with Emma. And you’re OK. We’re all together now and always will be.”

“We’re a little pirate family?” Ava questioned, the hope in her eyes making his heart swell just that much more.

“Aye, love. A perfect little pirate family.”

Thank you for reading <3

[gxtsmxt-blog]

Hey, may i request a Jungkook story well I don't really have a plot tbh i just wanna read a story of jungkook like those collage au and have a hobby of photography 🙈 thanks 😊

the nudist and the prudist [m]

❛❛ i saw you naked on your porch but jesus christ is my friend so i was hoping i would never see you again but here you are go away hot person❜❜ AU

COUNT → 14.968

GENRE → smut | angst | fluff | humor

PAIRING → jungkook | reader

WARNINGS → explicit language | virgin reader | exhibitionism | alcoholism | sEX

LINKS → TNATP 1.5 (jungkook’s pov)

note: so. this was mostly inspired by me walking by a naked man in real life this weekend. i live in a big city where one of the state universities is. lets just say i ran away screaming in terror. but ofc nothing else happened. never saw that man again. a nice butt he had. anyways. im gonna go to church now and say hello to my gOOD FRIEND JESUS CHRIST!!!!!!! AMEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

also send in more requests bc im a thirsty hoe

It was finally spring.

The bitter cold had lasted longer than normal and you feared that even the first day of spring would be filled with steady snowfall. Your winter had been spent wrapped in blankets, sipping on hot apple cider, and venturing outdoors with scarves nearly constricting your airflow. You thought the cold season was beautiful, but it was only beautiful superficially in your eyes. You didn’t enjoy walking around in layers upon layers of clothing and never leaving your room unless you absolutely had to. Then, one morning, you were greeted by melted snow and grass finally taking on that vibrant green color you missed so much.

As an introvert, winter was your own nightmare.

But then it became spring.

Pulling your keys from your backpack, you locked your door with a flick of your wrist, then moved through the claustrophobic hallway that connected you to your other housemates. They weren’t necessarily housemates exactly, as you’d never even spoken a word to any of them, but all three of you shared a bathroom and kitchen along with the people upstairs. Each of you had your own separate room as well—just as small as the hallway. Not counting your own building,  there were four separate buildings altogether with a large, steep driveway near the front lawn. Your apartment specifically was located near the back where everyone parked their cars, each person having a spot that correlated with their room number. Closing the door quietly behind you, you made your way to the concrete stairs on the opposite side of the driveway and garbage bin, heading your university’s main campus.

As a first year, you had decided to live on your own without a roommate. Your parents advised you against it at first, as they knew you were the quiet type and it was hard for you to make friends, but you convinced them it would save you money in the long run. They offered to pay for most of your tuition, but you wanted to do so yourself. The two of them had been married for twenty-five years and you always compared your relationships—or lack thereof—to their own when you thought of settling down and having children; they were your role models. Even something as small as living off-campus was something you wanted them to fully support, even if it was ultimately your decision.

Your black boots made contact with the sidewalk after crossing the street, looking both ways before you did. It seemed no one was around but it was seven o'clock in the morning. Your first class wasn’t for another two hours and the walk to the bus stop was short, but you wanted to make a habit of reviewing your notes before your classes now that the weather was sunny again.

You rested your hands on the camera dangling around your neck. Your photography project for the week was to take pictures of nature at different times throughout the day. You recalled most of your pictures taken over the semester had snowfall in the background, so you were looking forward to the contrast from your new pictures. And today, you would capture spring for the first time.

Just as you passed by a few houses, your eyes followed after a robin as it perched on the railing of one of the porches across the street. It was slightly chubby, or maybe that was just its feathers, but you smiled as it began to chirp to its heart’s content. If you weren’t so shy and quiet, maybe you would sing, too.

You closed an eye and played with the focus to get the perfect shot—but then a naked man was opening the front door, standing directly behind the bird as you took the picture. The bird flew off to perch itself on a nearby branch instead, flapping its wings and squawking wildly in surprise, while you remained rooted to the sidewalk in pure shock. It was a good thing your camera was attached to a long string around your neck, as you let go of it when you let out a high-pitched scream.

He turned at that, not even realizing a person was standing across the street facing his house, and that’s when you saw it—his penis hanging there like a limp noodle. You covered your eyes so fast that you alsmost poked yourself in the eye, but for some reason you made a gap with your fingers to peek through. He looked like he was your age, maybe a year or two older than you. His hair was almost onyx as strands of straight hair fell into his eyes. You could feel your cheeks heating up but you couldn’t stop looking at him—both at him and his penis. He was muscular, too, his biceps and thighs attractively toned.

To your embarrassment, you realized this was the first time you’d seen a penis besides from illustrations in your high school textbook. It wasn’t like your family was religious or anything for you to never see one up close and in real life. Your mom had given you “the talk” when you got your period in seventh grade and explained sex to you in almost vivid detail, but also gave you her opinion on it—that sex should be reserved for a husband and his wife only. Maybe you were too young at the time to form an opinion of your own, but you had agreed with her. You promised you would wait until marriage to do that.

And, you supposed, somewhere along the way, you also promised never to look at a penis. Or maybe you just didn’t want to. Even from the simple illustrations in textbooks, they grossed you out.

Noticing your feet were still planted firmly to the ground, you broke into a run in the direction of the bus stop with your hands still covering your eyes, which wasn’t a good combination as a car honked at you when you blindly ran in front of it. You had no idea why you were running in the first place—as if he was going to chase you or something—but your first instinct was always to run away.

And he just stood there like this was just another day.

Faintly, you could hear him call after you, but you were not about to have a conversation with a naked man. You liked to look someone in the eye when you spoke to them and something told you that you would be looking at something else if he tried talking to you. Your thoughts raced as you wondered why he was even naked in the first place. Was he one of those guys you could look up online and find where he lived on the “sexual predators near you” list? If not, he was going to be up there very soon.

Even as the house disappeared from view when you turned a corner, you kept running. A man mowing his lawn simply watched on as you did, but you didn’t think much of it. You would later, though—your anxiety obnoxiously reminding you this incident happened in the first place.

When you reached an intersection near a busier part of the neighborhood, you hunched over to catch your breath. You tried not to think about his penis, but you couldn’t help it. It had been right there in your face. Well, maybe not right in your face, as you were standing at least a few hundred feet away, but you had seen it and you had stared longer than at least thirty seconds.

It really did look bigger than it did in pictures. Sex and male genitalia were never something you spent hours upon hours thinking about—until now. Now, as you sluggishly dragged your feet to the bus stop, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was so veiny and… thick. Was that supposed to fit inside of you someday? You knew men were of all different shapes and sizes when it came to their penises, but how could a penis be any larger than that and still fit? How did he even walk around with that thing? And you thought the hair was on the whole shaft. From what you saw, his pubic hair was actually at the base of it. The artist in your sex ed textbook illustrated penises with hair—well—everywhere. Maybe she was like you and had never seen a penis before either. That was slightly alarming, though, because maybe she shouldn’t be drawing penises if she hadn’t even seen one in the first place.

Pulling your phone out of your back jean pocket and wiping the sweat off of your forehead with the palm of your hand, you realized it was 7:08—it only took eight minutes for that disaster to happen. Your index finger tugged at the collar of your shirt and the slight spring breeze felt heavenly against the sweat that had accumulated there. You didn’t even notice how much you were sweating until now. It was a good thing you always put on deodorant. Were you sweating from the exhaustion of running away from a naked man for three blocks straight or… was it something else?

As the bus pulled in front of you, you quietly found an empty seat inside. You had a class in two hours but somehow you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to review any of your notes efficiently.

Your mind was thinking about something else.

You had memorized his address—or maybe it wasn’t even his house. Actually, you didn’t want to think about that because somehow that was worse; some random guy feeling the breeze on his bare genitals on an old woman’s porch was definitely worse. If you felt like you were traumatized, she would have a heart attack and then die—probably. So, you rationalized that it had to be his house and also wondered if he had roommates or even a girlfriend living with him.

9773 S. Briarwood Dr.

That was his address and the street the two of you lived on. Your apartment building was but two houses away from his, separated by mere shrubbery. How had you had gone through half of the semester already—and walking by his house each day—without seeing him at least once? Maybe you were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you had left your room even fifteen minutes later that day, would you have even seen him at all?

After you came home from a study group later that night, you had torn a piece of paper out of your notebook and mapped out your entire neighbor—including possible bus stops, alleyways, and other shortcuts. His house was outlined with a bright red marker and crossed out, as if to tell anyone reading your map that it was a blocked off quarantine zone. It also helped that you drew him as a stick figure in his front lawn wearing no clothes with “beware of naked person” written beside him.

Behind your building were a multitude of possible routes. You could easily loop around the block so you never walked by his house on your way to the bus stop ever again. Though, you would also have to leave earlier in the morning. If that didn’t work, there was also another bus stop in the opposite direction you could take, but that meant waking up even earlier in the morning. You didn’t mind waking up earlier in the morning, but hoped that you never slept in late—for your sake.

All this trouble just because of a boy—and once again, you were thinking about his penis.

That entire day had been a nightmare for you. You went through the various stages of grief within two hours, but in reverse order—acceptance, depression, and then anger as you battled against yourself to not call the local authorities and tell them about a disturbing naked man walking the streets. You had every right to, you told yourself, as being naked in public was literally a crime: public indecency.

You felt like you were a used napkin now. He hadn’t taken your virginity but he had taken your innocence—the innocence that had never seen a penis in real life. But then you thought that it could’ve been an accident. The person inside of you that always tried to see the good in people wouldn’t allow your fingers to dial 9-1-1 and instead hoped an accident was what it was.

The spring breeze whipped your hair into your face just as his house came into view with you glancing down nervously at the picture you took of your map on your phone. It wasn’t too late; you could turn around to take another route and still get to the library with enough time to study.

You can do this, you told yourself. You’re a big girl living in the city. He’ll understand if you just talk to him. Tell him he can be naked all he wants as long as it’s not before eight o'clock in the morning during the weekdays.

You had every intention of marching up the steps leading to his front porch, knocking on his door, and saying exactly that, but then you changed your mind. Your brisk walk turned into slight panting as you quickly sped right on by.

However, just as you reached the intersection, as his house was the last house on the block before crossing the street, you heard a voice calling after you. Looking over your shoulder, you were more than surprised to see the very same person you saw yesterday, except half-clothed this time. He jogged down the steps, his bare feet running across the grass in his front lawn as he made his way over to you still frozen at the stop sign. You couldn’t help but have your eyes trail to his covered crotch and how something was moving in his sweatpants. Sparing a glance at his naked chest once, you turned on your heel and ran across the road, not even caring if a car hit you at that point.

“Hey!” he yelled after you but you didn’t slow down. “Girl with her backpack open!”

You stopped, looking behind you to see him still standing on the opposite side of the road. Your eyes landed on a trail of pencils behind you and you reached around your sides to feel the pocket where you kept your writing utensils was open. You bent over and tried to pick up all your pens, pencils, and multicolored highlighters before he could reach you, but just as you grabbed for an eraser in the middle of the road, he snatched it right out from under you.

You stood to your feet and reached for it, but he had at least a few centimeters on you and easily held it above your head. With his arm lifted in the air, you were given the perfect view of his bicep flexing and the dark patch of hair growing in his armpits.

“I remember you.”

No, you don’t, you thought to yourself.

“You saw me yesterday.”

No, I didn’t, you thought to yourself again but remained silent.

You could feel your cheeks heating up but he still kept your eraser out of your reach. Maybe it wasn’t worth it, but you were there now and should at least listen to what he had to say.

“About—”

“Jungkookie~” a feminine voice sang from a crack in his front door, manicured hands gripping onto its frame. Only her head peeked out and you wondered if she also had a problem wearing clothes.

Without taking his eyes off you or lowering his arm, he called her name back in the same sing-song voice. She giggled at him playfully, then her eyes fell on you, the smile slipping off her face.

“Who is she?” she said with a pout. “Come back to bed. I’m lonely without you.”

“I don’t know who she is,” he yelled over his shoulder, then looked back at you. “What’s your name?”

You looked between him and the seemingly naked girl behind his front door, feeling very uncomfortable staying there any longer. His arm had fallen slightly when he called over to her and he didn’t seem to notice, so you took that chance to jump in the air and snatch back your eraser.

“Hey!” he called after you when he noticed, watching as you ran across the street.

Just like yesterday, you ran until his house disappeared when you turned the corner. You had thought you could talk to him one-on-one but you felt so nervous around him. Maybe because you didn’t have the best of confidence around guys your age—or guys at all—but he made you really nervous. You brushed off that feeling from you seeing him naked, though, and not from something else.

For the past week, you walked in the opposite direction of his house on your way to the bus stop each day. It wasn’t like he was sitting on his porch waiting for you to walk by, but on the off chance that he was, you didn’t want to have another awkward chat with him. You didn’t know if he was actually a student at your university or was just some guy living on the same street as you either because your university was so large in the first place; you never saw the same person twice.

Stepping onto the bus one morning, however, your mood somewhat deteriorated at the sight of how many people were on the bus. It was crowded—so crowded that you knew you wouldn’t be able to find a seat and would have to be squished between people. Though, you had woken up late and expected there to be more people than normal, you didn’t think it would be too bad. You didn’t like being touched by strangers, but you didn’t have a car or even a bicycle to give you any other option.

The bus driver instructed everyone to make three rows, which caused you get up close and personal with the people around you. Satisfied, he pressed on the gas pedal and began to drive towards the main campus. A hand fell on your shoulder, then grabbed onto one of your backpack straps currently sliding past your shoulder and down your arm. You looked over your shoulder to thank them, but then lost all train of thought when you recognized them immediately.

“Hey, backpack girl,” he greeted, patting your shoulder when he readjusted your strap for you.

“H-Hello,” you shyly said back, turning your attention back to the girl standing in front of you.

When the bus stopped suddenly, a pedestrian choosing to run across the street without looking, your back fell into his chest. The hand that wasn’t holding onto the handrail overhead fell to your waist, your shirt having ridden up slightly so all he could feel there was smooth, bare skin.

You turned your head slightly, muttering your thanks, and then the bus doors were opening. Your stop wasn’t for another fifteen minutes but you would simply wait for another bus. He was making you nervous again without even doing anything and you needed a moment to yourself to calm down.

Other people followed you off the bus, walking over to the crosswalk, but you approached the bench. You placed your backpack against your legs, closing your eyes for a moment as you sat down. When you opened them, you were greeted by that growing smile you were dreading to see.

“Did you follow me?” you asked, surprised at yourself for sounding so competent.

“I don’t just sit on my porch all day with my dick hanging out, you know.”

You gave him a small smile at that. “I meant did you follow me off the bus?”

“You just happened to get off at my stop, backpack girl.”

He sat beside you on the bench with a thud, spreading his legs as he glanced at you.

“My name isn’t ‘backpack girl,’” you returned quietly and folded your hands in your lap.

“Yeah? I asked you what your name was last week but you didn’t answer me.”

“O-Oh,” you said and looked at him through your peripheral vision. “Right.”

“So?” he asked, leaning forward. “What’s your name? I’m Jungkook.”

You were still looking at him from the side, trying your best not to look down at his crotch. Glancing down at the hand placed between the two of you, your eyes followed the bulging veins from the back of his hand, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. Looking him in the eye at that, you realized he’d already been staring at you. He didn’t seem to notice you staring at his hand, though. Quietly, you muttered your name and he repeated it to himself.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jungkook said with a charming smile. “Except we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered and felt the familiar rush of blood to your cheeks.

Standing up, you muttered a quiet goodbye and then walked over to the stop light. Instead of him letting you leave, however, he followed after you, standing to your left as the two of you waited for the light to change. You looked both ways to make sure no one was coming before you crossed the busy street, the light still red. He, however, was paying more attention than you and pulled you back onto the sidewalk as a car drove past you and honked.

“The light was red.”

“I-I know.”

“You’re really cute, you know that?” he asked you with a light chuckle.

“I’m n-not, but thank you.”

The light indicated you could now cross the street and he let go of your arm.

“Promise to watch where you’re going!” he yelled after you.

Once you safely crossed the street, you waved back at him with a shy smile.

“Bye!” he yelled again, cupping his hands over his mouth. “I gotta get back to the bus stop!”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and then you yelled back, “I thought that was your stop!”

He gave you a cheeky grin at that.

I lied, he mouthed back.

Jungkook wasn’t as bad as you thought he was.

It wasn’t like you had a bad thought about him in the first place. You assumed he was a good person and that it was simply an accident that you saw his penis, which you had long forgotten about—for the most part. You no longer avoided his house to take a different bus. Instead, you bravely walked by each day and he would sometimes be sitting on his porch to wave at you. Sometimes, he would stop you just to talk, simply to ask you how you were or ask you what you thought of a new movie.

One morning, however, he wasn’t there.

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It wasn’t like he was there every day—because sometimes, he told you, he would sleep in or go to the gym early in the morning. But a faint knock on the window had your heart beating a little faster than normal. Maybe he was home but just wasn’t outside. Pausing outside his house, you looked for which window he was knocking from.

But it was not a knock.

Instead, you saw a naked woman being pressed against a window. Your eyes widened at that, your phone that you’d been holding in your right hand falling onto the sidewalk. Bending over, you picked it up, thankful it had a cover on it, then glanced back at the window. Her breasts were squished against the glass and you could make out another figure directly behind her, reaching in front of her to grab at her lower regions. Didn’t he remember that you walked by his house every day at the exact same time? As you continued to stare in shock, her eyes slowly opened, looking directly at you and—

Oh, God.

Your hand covered your mouth, knowing exactly what was happening there. Before you could stop yourself, you were running past his house as fast as you could, nearly tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. You heard the front door opening with a slam but you continued to run, even after you heard his rushed footsteps follow after you and him yell your name multiple times.

Just before his house disappeared from view, you stopped and looked over your shoulder. He was only wearing a pair of boxers, but you were thankful he at least put on some clothes. Thinking that you already ran away, he looked up at the sky and ran his tongue past the seam of his lips. He kicked a rock across his front lawn and then cursed to himself before heading back inside. Just before the front door shut, you saw the naked girl stop in front of him and attempt to talk to him. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but it looked like he wasn’t happy with her as the door closed shut.

He must have just forgotten that you walked by every day. Why else would he be having sex with a girl against a window knowing that? Your eyes brimmed with tears, but you didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you liked him like that—romantically. He was very attractive and he was nice to you, but you didn’t know what you felt for him exactly. The two of you had only been talking for a week and that wasn’t enough time at all for you to like someone in that way, especially when you knew he had girls over all the time to have sex with them. He told you that much about him, at least.

After that, you stopped walking by his house.

You missed talking to him and you missed seeing him, but you were a little more than upset with him to care about his feelings. Did he even care that you stopped walking by? Maybe this was what he wanted all along; maybe he found your presence annoying and just wanted you to leave him alone. Surely he could’ve just told you that but that’s what your anxiety was telling you—and you believed it.

After you had been studying for hours and felt like your head was about to explode one night, your mind drifted back to him as it always did—him and that girl pressed up against the window. You had never watched porn before in your life, as you wanted to keep your innocence intact, but you couldn’t help but wonder how it felt to have sex with him like she had. What did it feel like? If he had girls over all the time just for that, he must’ve been good enough for them to always keep coming back.

You thought she was the same girl that was staying at his house that one time, though. For reasons you couldn’t yet explain or even understand, you felt jealous. It seemed like she was always at his house and maybe he was always naked because they were just having sex all the time. She was probably his girlfriend or maybe she was just a friend that he liked to have sex with—more so than any of the other girls he had sex with. Even if that’s all she was, you still felt envious of her. She could see him whenever she wanted, talk to him whenever she wanted. But you? You only saw him once every day at seven o'clock in the morning, and all you ever could do was wave.

For the first time in a long time, you were frustrated with your quiet nature. You couldn’t even speak more than a few words to him without getting flustered and now you had ruined it. Getting so upset over him having sex with a girl was completely ridiculous, but that’s how you felt.

Maybe you liked Jungkook a lot more than you thought you did.

Usually you made men uncomfortable with your quiet way of speaking and how you wouldn’t look them directly in the eye, but he didn’t mind at all. He thought you were cute and would tell you that whenever he felt like it. No one else had called you cute before in your life, except for your grandma when you were five years old. Somehow, you only liked it when he called you cute. You realized that you valued his opinion way too much, and that was clear from how sad you were from not seeing him.

For a fleeting second, you wondered what it would be like to have sex with him—vividly. What would it be like if, instead of that girl, it was you having sex with him? You covered your eyes at that thought out of embarrassment. That was just completely out of the question, something you shouldn’t even be thinking about at all. All you felt for Jungkook was attraction. 

He didn’t care about you at all.

Even with that thought on your mind, as you laid in bed, your hand slowly drifted past your pajama shorts, touching yourself down there for the first time. The patch of hair made it awkward at first, but then your finger circled your outer lips and you let out a gasp at the sensation.

Would Jungkook touch you down there if you asked?

You closed your eyes, imagining your fingers were his instead. If his fingers were similar to the size of his penis, they would be long and able to reach places that yours couldn’t. Without even thinking twice about it, your other hand grasped one of your breasts through your baggy t-shirt, then rolled your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. It felt so good and there was so much wetness down there just from thinking about him touching you. You pulled your hand out of your warm center and slowly opened your eyes to look at it. It was coated with your own juices and somehow, that made you feel even more turned on than you already did. Letting go of your breast, you reached down and spread your lips open with your fingers so that the fingers on your other hand could go back to their caressing, but this time, you shoved the tip of your forefinger inside your tight hole.

It felt strange and almost uncomfortable, but after a few minutes, you were able to stick your entire finger all the way inside of you. You couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if it was his finger instead. Adding another, your inner walls stretched even more at the new digit inside of you.

I am a good girl, you chanted in your head. I don’t do things like this. I am a good girl.

Even thinking that, though, you knew it wasn’t true. Something was very wrong with you for having such impure thoughts about a boy you rarely saw except for in the morning. You thought back to how he’d pressed that girl against the window. How would it feel to be in her place?

Your hips stuttered at that, the speed of your fingers increasing. All your mind was thinking about was Jungkook—how hard he would press you into that window, how hard he would fuck you into that window. Your fingers suddenly weren’t enough; you wanted his fingers inside of you.

“J-Jungkook,” you moaned quietly to yourself, your legs twitching.

Then you pulled your fingers out of you and began to caress your outer lips again, pausing when you touched yourself in a certain way that shot an intense amount of pleasure through you. You pinched at your lips and tried to locate the same spot near where your outer lips met at the top of your vagina.

“Oh, God…” you couldn’t help but cry out loudly, squeezing your thighs together for some friction.

The sensation felt so good, but it also made you feel different as well. You wanted to keep going but you also wanted to stop, which was what you did.

This was not what you should be doing. It was just going to make things worse for you. Jungkook would have sex with you and then never speak to you again, or at least that’s what you told yourself. He would deflower you and leave you out to dry like a dirty sock. 

At that thought, warm tears formed in the corners of your eyes.

And as you laid in your bed, your fingers coated in your own juices, you cried.

The next few days after that, you felt physically and emotionally drained. You couldn’t even get out of bed, or maybe it was because you didn’t want to. Never had you felt so ashamed of yourself because this was all because of a boy. Your parents would be ashamed of you if they knew, too.

And that made you feel even worse.

They would be disgusted by your behavior you and probably think to themselves what they did so wrong to raise such a horrible excuse for a daughter. And they had every right to think that.

After a week of skipped classes and homework piling up more and more each day, you found yourself lying in the front lawn of your apartment building late one night. It was the weekend and no one would care if they saw a crying girl on the grass. They would let you self-deprecate in peace.

With a half-empty bottle of straight vodka on its side by your head, you opened your eyes.

“Hey, man,” you heard a familiar voice say to someone else, then they asked if you lived here.

You sat up so quickly at that your head began to spin. The conversation was distant enough that you could tell they were talking right in front of the building near the street. Placing a hand on your forehead, you strained your ears to listen, even though your brain was screaming at you to die.

When you heard nothing, you assumed they left and laid back down on the ground, taking a swig of vodka as you did. The burn was unpleasant but you welcomed it and took another.

“Yeah, but how do you know her exactly?”

“Uh… It’s kind of a long story.”

“All right, man. Well, she’s in #10.”

You gulped at that, hoping that it was so late in the evening now that he wouldn’t see you in the dark.

You heard a car starting and footsteps getting closer as they traipsed up the driveway, then you peeked through half-closed eyelids to see a shadow looming over you.

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Whoever you’re d-dialing can’t be r-reached,” you slurred, batting the person standing beside you away with your hand like they were a fly buzzing around your head. “Try…" You started to hiccup, enough that you just gave up on finishing your sentence.

“Oh, Jesus…”

He knelt at your side, prying the bottle of vodka out of your hands with a sigh. You faintly remembered hearing him ask himself how you managed to get vodka in the first place, but then he was tossing the bottle somewhere behind him on the grass. It clinked when it rolled into the fence surrounding the nearby garbage bin, then he grabbed one of your arms to get you to stand up. He called your name once, then several times to get your attention.

“Can you hear me right now?”

You groaned in response.

“Shit. You’re so fucked up.”

He pulled at your arms like you were some sort of rag doll, your face falling into the crook of his neck easily from his strength. Another sigh escaped him, but it didn’t seem like he was bothered. Reaching for your legs, he easily pulled you into his chest and carried you down the driveway bridal style.

“W-Where are we goin’?” you managed to ask and attempted to focus on his face. Your hands idly hung around his neck and he suddenly paused, hoisting you further up his body.

“My house. Is that okay?”

Your head fell against his shoulder, blacking out for a few seconds at a time. He resumed walking when you didn’t say anything back. When you opened your eyes again after what felt like only seconds, you were lying on a couch inside someone’s house. The sight of a large ceiling fan greeted you when you did, and then you glanced around what appeared to be a living room.

“Jungkook,” you heard a voice say. “Why is there a drunk girl on our couch right now?”

“You know, it’s a funny story…”

“And you know what else is a funny story? That whenever you say something is a ‘funny story,’ it actually isn’t a ‘funny story’ at all because you did something stupid.”

Jungkook sighed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, shit. You’re right. I gotta get going, but you better not let her puke on the carpet.”

The door slammed with a shut and you heard Jungkook sigh again, then watched as he carried one of the dining room chairs in front of you to take a seat. Your eyes fell onto his thighs, the back of the chair facing you and him sitting on it with his legs spread open.

“You’re conscious,” he said after a few seconds, smiling in relief.

“Jungkook,” you started to say, “why weren’t you there that morning?”

It was a vague question but somehow he knew exactly what you meant.

“I’m so fucking sorry you had to see that. I didn’t even— It didn’t even register that… I’m sorry.”

You sat up, rubbing at your temples for a moment. He went to reach for you in an attempt to steady you, but you backed away from him and pressed yourself more into the couch.

“It’s fine,” you said, which was a lie. “Can you take me home?”

“Y-Yeah. Are you sure you’re okay, though?”

You wanted to lie again and tell him you were fine, but somehow you couldn’t even do that. Even after passing out, you still could feel the alcohol pumping through your veins, giving you a false sense of confidence. You knew if you were even slightly sober, you wouldn’t have said a word.

“No, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

You stood up, your head spinning as you did and almost causing you to topple over. Raising a hand, you gestured that you were fine and could walk by yourself without his help.

It was awkward as you stumbled over to his front door, trying to open it but not realizing it was locked. He reached over your shoulder, his large hand encasing your own on the door knob so he could unlock it, then offered you a small smile. You didn’t return it, though.

He silently followed you outside, walking behind you quietly.

“Are you sure you're—”

“I said I’m fine.”

He didn’t say another word after that. Cars drove by but that was all you heard as the two of you slowly made your way past the houses separating his house from your own.

“You know what? I’m not. I’m a little intoxicated right now—”

He snorted softly at that, agreeing with you.

“—and so I’m probably going to say something dumb. Usually I wouldn’t even be speaking more than two words to you but right now I don’t give a shit. That’s right. I know what that word means.”

You spun around to face him, breathing heavily after your outburst.

“I’m fucking pissed at you. You knew I would be walking by but then I saw— And I know we’re not even friends. We’re complete strangers, but I figured you could at least keep your dick in your pants for even just one second because I thought we— I thought y-you l-liked me like I like y-you.”

“I do lik—!”

“I am talking right now, Jungkook,” you hissed, taking a step forward. “As I was saying… I thought— But I guess I was wrong. You probably only started talking to me in the first place because you wanted to stick your dick in me, right? Why else would you talk to someone as socially awkward and quiet as me?”

You turned back around, then, with your back facing him. He didn’t have much to say in response, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t think of what to say. The two of you continued towards your building in silence again. You crossed your arms, so many things left unsaid between you two.

When you reached your driveway, you threw a glance over your shoulder.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you quietly said. “I won’t be walking by anymore so you can screw whoever you want wherever you want without worrying about me, if you even did at all.”

Then you wobbled your way up the driveway, set on storming into your room to take a long nap. Though, it was late at night already so that would probably just be called sleeping.

“Wait!” he yelled after you, but didn’t make a move to go after you. “Will you just— Fucking hold on.”

You heard his rushed footsteps behind you, then he grabbed your shoulder to spin you around. He pulled back at the sight of tears brimming in your eyes, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“I do fucking like you. I do but I… I’m not good enough for you. No one is good enough for you.”

“Don’t you think I should be the one to decide that?” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly.

“I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already did.”

You pulled your arm out of his grasp and tried to walk back up the driveway, but then he was grabbing for your arm again, this time pushing you into the fence surrounding the garbage bin. Surprised, you looked up at him. He bit into his lip, seeming to make up his mind about something.

“You’re not… making this fucking easy on me, you know?”

Then he was kissing you.

His arms caged you into the fence, angling his head as he sucked your upper lip into his mouth. Your eyes blinked rapidly, still trying to process what was happening. His lips felt chapped but also soft at the touch, something you hadn’t been expecting. You’d been kissed before but they were only pecks on the lips and definitely nothing as searing hot as his mouth. You felt his tongue lick across the seam of your lips, and your eyes closed on reflex at that as you slowly opened your mouth for him.

“I shouldn’t be…” he mumbled against your lips, returning his tongue into your mouth. Seeming to have forgotten what he was trying to say, his words just trailed off into the air.

One of his hands fell from the wooden fence and skimmed down your sides, stopping at your waist and maneuvering under your shirt to feel the warm skin there. Compared to your heated body, his hands were like ice cubes but you didn’t want him to stop touching you. Even just kissing him was something you didn’t want to stop doing. His other hand followed soon after, both of them gliding at a snail’s pace across the skin at your back. Your eyes snapped open when he roughly pulled you against him and your breasts pressed against his firm chest. It was like your body was on fire and you could feel your heart beating wildly in your chest. You wondered if he could hear it, too.

He exhaled through his nose after a few seconds and pulled away from your mouth to trail kisses from your chin to down your neck. Your hands bunched up the fabric at his collar as you stood there and let him do whatever he wanted to you. You hadn’t ever been kissed like how he was kissing you, ravaging your neck with such an intensity you found it hard to think straight. His teeth nipped at the skin there lightly, which caused you to let out a gasp. After placing a chaste kiss there, he breathed heavily into your neck for a moment, pulling back after a while to look at you. The hands holding you to him at your back suddenly slid further up your shirt and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Your eyes opened again to see him staring down at you with raw desire. He bent his head forward to kiss you once as if he couldn’t help himself—a fleeting peck—and then he pulled away again. You moaned lowly from the back of your throat at the loss of contact and he licked his lips, scanning your face under the glow of the dim streetlight. Your lips felt bruised and wet with his own saliva and yours.

He leant forward again and pressed a kiss against your temple, then one softly to your cheek. Pulling away one last time, the two of you just stared at each other in awe. You didn’t know what to say and definitely hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you ten minutes ago—especially not like that.

And then a car was honking at the two of you, gesturing for you to get out of the way so they could find a parking spot without hitting you. Jungkook grabbed at your waist, his hands at your back sliding around to grip your sides. Then his hands were gone, skimming down the length of your arm to hold onto your hand tightly and drag you around the garbage bin to let them drive past you.

When they were gone, disappearing behind the building, he looked back down at you.

“So, um…” he said, panting slightly. “That was… something…”

“Yeah,” you replied, staring at your feet in embarrassment.

He sensed that and instantly felt regret, not from kissing you but from doing so without your permission. He hadn’t even asked you if it was okay with you—he just did it without thinking.

“I’m sorry. I—” he started to say, then cut himself off. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately, huh?”

You snapped up your head to look at him. “It’s okay! I’m fine. Don’t apologize.”

Every time he looked at you, all he could remember was how warm you felt inside your mouth. For a moment, his thoughts went south. He had to get you back in your room before he made things worse.

“Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“Y-Yeah. I can find my way. Don’t worry about me,” you assured with a warm smile. He let go of your hand after realizing he was still holding onto it somewhat tightly. “I’m… I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“I’m sorry for kissing you,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be.” You tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear. “I… I liked it, so thank you.”

His hands twitched at his sides at what you said, his brain screaming at him to get away from you.

You turned around and began to walk up the pathway to your building, opening the door. Looking over your shoulder, you gave him a small wave and smiled at him. Before you disappeared inside, however, he was running over to you and grabbing onto the door frame.

“Listen… uh…” he began and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Can I make it up to you? For kissing you and for… you know. I’m throwing a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

Your hands held onto the side of the door, his hand holding onto the door frame inches from your own.

“O-Okay,” you agreed, smiling. “If you want me to come, I will.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief, smiling back at you. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You nodded and he nodded back, awkwardly. Waving one last time, you closed the door in his face. After you walked down the hallway to unlock your door and disappeared from sight, he breathed deeply through his nose, able to think straight for the first time in what seemed like two hours. He moved to walk back down the driveway and go to sleep in his own bedroom, looking over his shoulder at the door several times as he did.

“God, I’m fucked…” he mumbled to himself, wondering if inviting you to his party was a good idea.

You fell asleep late that night, not waking up until half-past noon the next morning. It wasn’t something you could help, though, as you couldn’t stop thinking about him and that kiss. Now, at a quarter until nine o'clock at night, you pulled back your covers and walked over to your mirror. Was going to his party such a good idea? Maybe all he wanted to do was talk to you and hang out with you, but what if he was with one of those girls? You would just get angry with him again and it wouldn’t be anyone else’s fault but your own.

Going through your closet, you took at least ten minutes to pick out what to wear. You wanted to impress him but also didn’t want him to know you were trying to impress him, so you went with a simple blouse paired with a somewhat short skirt. You hadn’t shaved your legs in two days, but the hair growing back wasn’t that noticeable. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror one last time, you pulled your hair so it was halfway up and secured it with a ponytail. You didn’t wear heavy makeup, mascara and light foundation the most you wore on a good day, but you put on some red lipstick anyway.

He didn’t tell you what time the party started and you didn’t even have his phone number, but you knew the second you heard the loud bass vibrating against your wall. Locking your door behind you, you slowly walked down the driveway with butterflies in your stomach. It was already an hour after the music started and you wondered if he was still waiting for you to show up.

He probably already forgot about you.

You walked across his lawn, the tips of the grass blades tickling your toes in your flip flops, intending to awkwardly knock on the front door. Running through your head what you would say to him inside, you didn’t even notice a figure sitting on the porch until they were waving at you.

It was Jungkook.

“Hey,” he called over to you, standing up. “You took your sweet time getting over here.”

You giggled shyly to yourself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be waiting for me outside.”

He removed the hoodie from over his head, running a hand through his black hair. You looked him up and down from his dark wash jeans to his baggy, loose-fitting sweatshirt, finding the sight of his hands digging into his front jean pockets really attractive for some reason. Your eyes finally trailed back up to his face to see if he had caught you staring only to see he was doing the same to you.

“Cute,” he said after a moment, one corner of his lips tilting up into a lopsided grin. “Come on.”

With his hands still in his jean pockets, he gestured with his elbow for you to follow him inside. You did as he said, then he paused at the front door, holding it open for you.

“Ladies first.”

Upon entering his house for the second time, it was loud and crowded with people huddled together in every corner. The bass was even louder inside—which you didn’t think was even possible—and you anxiously looked behind you in hopes of seeing Jungkook not far behind. As an introvert, parties never appealed to you. Even hanging out in a small group gave you intense anxiety, so you were definitely the type to hug the corners of a wall at a party or hang out with their pets instead of getting drunk.

As he walked over to stand at your side, he could tell you were anxious and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the kitchen. A few guys greeted him with that weird shake that guys do. He grinned back that, making small talk for a moment, before his eyes fell back onto you.

“You’re not twenty-one, are you?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you playfully.

You feel your cheeks heat up. “No. I’m only eighteen.”

“I knew it,” he said with a laugh, stepping away from the counter littered with beer bottles and half-full red solo cups. “I figured you were a freshman the moment I saw you.”

After digging through the fridge, he pulled out a pitcher of apple juice, pouring you a cup.

“You should have some, too,” you said with a giggle.

“Nah.” He smiled down at you from across the counter at that. “Orange juice is more my thing.”

You let out a loud at that, then covered your mouth with one of your hands in embarrassment.

“God, you’re cute,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. “I like hearing you laugh, so don’t hide it.”

You took a sip of your apple juice at that, the cool drink sliding down your throat a nice contrast to the heat spreading over your cheeks. He continued to look at you, his elbows resting against the cool countertop. Feeling yourself getting a little too hot, either from him staring at you or all the sweat in the air from the bodies inside the house, you asked if there was a bathroom you could use.

“Yeah,” he replied and pointed behind you to the stairs. “It’s just upstairs and on your right.”

You muttered your thanks, setting your apple juice on the counter, then brushed past some people to find the stairs. Glancing over your shoulder once, you could see Jungkook watching you across the room.

As you quickly padded up the stairs, disappearing down the hallway. Jungkook took a swig of beer, giving himself some liquid courage before he followed you up the stairs. This was his chance to talk to you away from all his friends and various drunk people he didn’t know he invited. Although he wasn’t sure how well it would go, he couldn’t keep it in the shadows any longer. He ran up the stairs, skipping steps, and heard the faucet turn on. Licking his lips nervously, he knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” he heard back and he had to stifle a laugh.

“It’s me,” he said after a few seconds. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

You opened the door, looking at him with curious, wide eyes. Stepping away to give him enough room to walk inside, he slowly brushed past you into the bathroom.

“It’s quieter here,” he mumbled, looking around as if it wasn’t the same bathroom he used every day.

“Yeah,” you agreed and looked at him expectantly with folded arms.

“You remember when you saw me naked that one time?”

“How could I ever forget?”

He laughed at that. “I’m sorry about that, but I just wanted to explain. I know that happened a month ago but you probably are still wondering about that. It was a little weird, huh?”

“A little bit…” you quietly replied, smiling shyly.

“I… I’m a, uh… I’m an exhibitionist.”

You could only stare up at him at that. Uncrossing your arms, you asked, “You’re a… You’re a what?”

“Exhibitionist. It means I get turned on when people see me naked. It’s a kink of—”

“Wh— Uh… You…”

“Maybe I should’ve transitioned you into this more gently…”

“M-Maybe. Does… Does that mean that you did that on purpose?!”

“No, no, no! It was an accident!” he frantically reassured you, waving his hands wildly. “I didn’t know you were going to be walking by—trust me. But I… may or may not have gotten turned on by…”

“…me seeing you naked?”

It was awkwardly silent and if you weren’t in the room, he would probably be kicking himself in the nuts for making you uncomfortable. He hadn’t even planned out what he was going to say to you or how. All he knew was he wanted to clear things up and try to make you understand him a little bit.

His head fell against the wall, tucking his hands into his front jean pockets. “That came out wrong.”

“Maybe… Maybe I should go…” you slowly said, already taking a step towards the closed door.

“Wait!” he yelled, moving himself to block off the door. “Hold on. I’m fucking sorry that this is probably making you uncomfortable but this isn’t actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Then what is it you wanted to say?”

“I… Ah, fuck. I’m usually good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“I know you’re not that type of girl.”

“Type of girl?”

“I know how you’re going to respond but…”

“But what?”

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “No one ever walks by my house early in the morning. I didn’t do it on purpose just to pop a boner. I didn’t even know you were there until…”

The two of you recalled at the same time how you had run away screaming.

“But that’s not what I wanted to say. I think you’re really fucking adorable. I’m kind of obvious about it, so you probably knew that already. And you also know that I hook up with a lot of girls at… here…”

You anxiously glanced at the door knob behind him.

“It turns me on when someone sees me naked and it turns me on to even fuck in public because just the thought of someone walking in on me with my dick out is… Fucking hell. Just the thought of it is… It’s never even mattered who it was or who I’m with either. I’ll fuck anyone anywhere and I’ll be… good to go. I’ve never really chased after anyone for sex because of it. But there’s… there’s something so fucking special about you. You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes…”

“God,” he groaned, closing his eyes as his head made a thud when it banged against the door. “I figured as much. I could just tell by how you act.”

You now understood where he was going with this as you glanced down at his bulging erection straining against the front of his jeans, backing yourself into the sink. Your hands came to rest on the edge and gripped onto the porcelain tightly until your knuckles turned white. He probably thought that this was freaking you out but it actually was making you feel something down there.

And that made you very nervous.

“I want to fuck you so bad.”

You sucked in a breath at that, your legs shaking slightly but hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I haven’t had a good fuck in such a long time because all I can think about is you. Knowing you’ve never had sex before makes it even worse. You don’t even know how close I was to coming into your room last night and bending you over your desk—how close I was to pounding into you so hard that everyone in your fucking building would hear you screaming.”

“I… um…”

“And I’m not telling you this so that I can force you into anything you don’t want to do. I know you’re not that type of girl and would never force myself on anyone. I just needed to get this off my chest. I want to fuck you so badly, but I know you’re not into me like that. You’re probably waiting until marriage or some fairytale shit like that. I’m telling you this so that you stay the fuck away from me. Do you know how many times a day I pop a boner just from thinking about fucking you? It doesn’t even matter where—in a car, in this fucking bathroom, in the street. I would strangle a person just to bury my dick in you for even one fucking second.”

Instead of running past him and out the front door like a normal person, you stayed rooted to the spot. You bit into your bottom lip, then looked up at him to see him staring at your mouth.

“Okay.”

He blinked, his mouth falling open. “Okay? What are you—”

“I’ll have sex with you.”

He opened his mouth to object again, even though he was the one who brought it up, but you stepped forward and away from the sink. Did he really think just because you were a virgin you wouldn’t? He had to know how ridiculously good looking he was; the old lady across the street would even agree.

All you could think about the past week was the exact same thing he’d been thinking about. You wanted him to bend you over your desk. You wanted him to fuck you, even just for a second. You wanted him to fuck you so hard that all your neighbors would hear you screaming. All your fantasies of getting married to the perfect guy and giving your virginity to him on your wedding night on top of a bed littered with rose petals was out the window.

“I want you, too,” you whispered, grabbing onto his forearms.

His breath hitched at that, and then he was leaning more into the door to back away from you. You pulled buck, letting go of his arms as a hurt expression crossed your face.

“But you don’t want to,” you said quietly.

“I-I do! It’s just… Have you been fucking listening to me?” He reached for one of your hands but you backed into the sink again, looking at a crack in the wall instead of looking him in the eye. “I just… It would be a mistake before—”

“Mistake?” you asked him and your eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sorry for… I’m sorry.”

And then you were brushing past him to walk downstairs, the front door getting closer with each step. Jungkook didn’t even go after you, just stood there after you squeezed past him. He hadn’t even objected at all. It was the right thing to do, he thought to himself just as you closed the front door.

You didn’t even get to hear the rest of what he had to say.

You felt embarrassed.

You had gone above and beyond and actually told him you wanted to have sex with him, and then he just rejected you like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard in his life. You understood that he thought he was doing the right thing but he seemed to make up his mind on what you wanted. Once again, he was treating you like you were some porcelain doll that couldn’t make her own decisions. Why had he even brought it up if he wasn’t interested in that with you anyway? He made it sound like he was, but then he confused you when you shot you down like that. You didn’t understand what he wanted.

Days went by and you kept walking by his house, hoping he would change his mind, but he was never outside on the porch to wave at you like he had been before. You knew he was home but simply didn’t want to talk to you. Maybe it was for the best, you thought. You shouldn’t let one boy change your mind on whether or not you wanted to have sex before marriage. Your parents would be proud.

One particular day, however, it was raining hard.

You held your backpack above your head as you ran and you faintly heard the bus driving down the street after you got off at your stop. Looking at the sky, you jumped when you heard thunder. As you sprinted across the street, stepping into various puddles as you did and soaking your socks and shoes, you stopped to see you were standing across the street from Jungkook’s house. The rain had stopped, so you lowered your backpack from over your head, and slowly crossed the street in silence.

In one puddle, you failed to notice there was a large tree branch and fell flat on your face. You let out a cry of pain and slowly pulled yourself to sitting on the back of your heels. Feeling your knee, you pulled your hand back to see you were bleeding, which really wasn’t what you needed at all.

“Ow…” you cried out and felt tears form in the corners of your eyes.

Using the back of your sleeve, you wiped at your eyes just as a single tear rolled down your cheek. You sniffled, but slowly stood to your feet and looked at where the branch had scraped against your skin. Some parts of the wound were deeper than others and you sighed to yourself.

Then you heard a front door opening.

Your head snapped up to see none other than Jungkook jogging down the steps with a hoodie over his head, then stopping in front of you. His eyes trailed down to the wound on your thigh, grimacing.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you answered, pulling down your skirt. You moved to take a step back but faltered slightly. Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your shoulder at that, leading you to his front porch.

“Come on,” he said quietly, and you let him.

Closing the front door, he walked you over to his couch. Your hair was soaking wet from the rain and you left tiny puddles of water behind you on the hardwood floor of his entryway. He jogged up the stairs, telling you he was going to get you a towel, and returned less than a minute later. The couch sank from his weight when he sat next to you and he went to wrap the towel around you, ruffling your hair in an attempt to dry it. He laughed quietly to himself when he squished your cheeks together, your lips puckering cutely.

“How bad was it out there?” he asked, smiling warmly at you.

“It wasn’t that bad until ten minutes ago,” you answered, taking the towel from his hands. “I had just got off the bus when it started to rain, though. And then it was thundering, too.”

“That sucks,” he supplied. “You can stay here until it stops, if you want.”

You didn’t tell him that it’d already stopped, using the excuse that it would just start raining again if you left straight away.

“T-Thank you.”

You scratched at your leg and his eyes followed the movement, remembering you fell outside.

“Does that hurt?” he asked, looking at your thigh.

“A l-little bit,” you stuttered as you felt him staring at you.

“I got some band-aids. Maybe that’ll help,” he told you, then disappeared up the stairs again.

You listened to the sound of him walking around upstairs, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. Glancing around his house, your eyes fell onto the television across the coffee table. Jungkook must’ve been watching something before he invited you inside. Although you’d been in his house twice already, it felt smaller when you knew it was just the two of you inside, unless his roommates were home, too. Sucking in a deep breath, you fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, running a finger down the scratch on your leg. It would scab over eventually, so maybe you didn’t need a band-aid—not that a band-aid would even help since you would need a lot of them to even cover your wound. You pulled out your phone from the pocket inside your backpack, thankful you didn’t simply keep it in your back jean pocket because of the rain.

You looked terrible. 

Your hair was a mess and already frizzy from the heat. Your mascara wasn’t waterproof so it was a big, black mess under your eyes. You didn’t even know where to start so you just put your phone away, sighing to yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t have come inside and just went home. You only lived two houses away in the first place. Why did you even agree to come inside at all?

Deep down, you already knew the answer.

At the sound of him running down the stairs, you looked over the back of the couch. He held a wad of band-aids in his right hand, the other holding a hand towel.

“I’m back,” he said with a grin.

He sat next to you on the couch again, but then realized it would be an awkward angle. Noticing his discomfort, you turned so that you were facing him and lifted one of your legs onto the cushion. This gave him the perfect view up your skirt and he slowly tugged it down to cover you.

Taking the hand towel, he rubbed down your thigh and you closed your eyes at that. He must’ve soaked it in warm water because it felt very soothing on your bare skin. When you opened your eyes, you couldn’t look away from him as he continued to rub calming circular motions into your skin with his hand. His hair had fallen into his eyes and you wanted more than anything to run your fingers through his hair. The hand that wasn’t holding the towel was also caressing the skin on your other thigh. You wondered if he knew he was doing that but didn’t want him to stop, so you kept your mouth shut.

“Good?” he asked with a laugh when your head fell against the back of the couch, eyes closing in complete submission.

He grabbed onto your angled leg that wasn’t injured, straightening it so your foot was resting between him and the back of the couch. Placing the hand towel on the coffee table, he stared at your wound.

“Shit,” he groaned. “This must hurt a lot. What the hell did you do to yourself?”

“I, uh… I fell into a puddle. There was this giant tree branch there and it got me good, I guess.”

He laughed out loud at that, pulling a fist to his mouth as he did. You couldn’t help but smile back, glad that someone found it funny. Although, it was kind of ridiculous so maybe you did, too. He had the most beautiful laugh, like music to your ears. You knew he could make you smile just the sound of his laughter.

“I thought I told you to watch where you’re going,” he said with a playful smile.

You’d been watching his hand as it gripped your upper thigh, but then your head snapped up to look at him when he said that. He had said something like that back when he followed you off the bus.

He didn’t seem to remember, though, so you said quietly, “Sorry… I was kind of in a hurry to get home.”

“Nah. If it was me, I would’ve wiped out so much harder.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a moment, and then he glanced back down at your thigh. Your wound went even under your skirt and you could tell he wanted to ask you if he could move it but also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Maybe he didn’t want you to get any ideas after what happened at his party. You had basically thrown yourself at him, after all.

You pulled at your skirt, not so much to reveal your underwear but enough to see the rest of your wound. Your eyes widened, not realizing it went so far up your thigh. Jungkook looked at the band-aids he placed on the coffee table for a moment, then said, “We’re going to need some more band-aids.”

He went to move off the couch, but you grabbed his arm. “It’s okay! I’ll be fine, but thank you.”

Slowly, he relaxed back into the couch, your hand still grasping onto his arm. You didn’t let go of him and he noticed as he stared at your hand.

“Jungkook,” you said in a small voice. “Why didn’t you want to have sex with me? Is there something wrong with me?”

His eyes widened at that, not expecting those words to come out of your mouth at all. Were you crazy? Had you been listening to him at all?

“Maybe you forgot but I seem to remember having a fucking monologue about how much I want to have sex with you,” he said with a laugh but scooted away from you on the couch. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Don’t say that.”

Your hand dropped into your lap when he pulled away. “Then why did you not want to last week?”

“I told you. I don’t want you to make a mistake. What we would be doing would only be physical, and you deserve so much more than that,” he said softly.

“Why do you keep deciding things for me like I’m a child?”

You stood up, pulling your leg out from him and the couch. Grabbing your backpack leant against the coffee table, you placed its straps on your shoulders and pulled back your hair, heading for the door.

Instead of sitting there like you expected him to, he followed after you and placed a hand on the door when you went to open it. You jumped back, surprised, and clutched your hands to your chest. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, his pupils dilated with what appeared to be raw need.

“You’re not making things easy for me.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand you at all, Jungkook. You’ll have sex with all these other girls but you won’t with me. Why am I so different? Is it because I’m inexperienced?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“You’re special.”

“Special?”

“I don’t want to just fuck you. I was going to… I was going to ask you out that night but I— I don’t— I stopped inviting them over and haven’t had sex for two weeks now. I wanted to do this right.”

You closed your mouth, all the words on the tip of your tongue fading into the air. He was going to ask you out? Why didn’t he?

“I like you so much that it drives me crazy.”

“I like you, too,” you said quietly, “but you seem to think I’m this good girl that isn’t deserving of anybody. You’re not my father or my brother or— Maybe you were right about me when we first met but… I’m attracted to you, too, and it wouldn’t be a mistake if we had sex right now. I promise you it wouldn’t be a mistake.”

Your backpack straps began to slip down the length of your arms and you let it fall to the ground with a thud. Taking a step closer, you lifted up your skirt and grabbed one of Jungkook’s hands. Without losing your nerve, you placed it over your drenched underwear and his eyes went wide.

“I want you, Jungkook.”

His head fell against the door, closing his eyes in almost defeat. He groaned out loud, cursing to himself. He grabbed your arm and pulled you against him.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

And then he was turning you around, pressing you into the door. His hands blindly pulled at the hem of your skirt, it pooling around your ankles a second later. He pressed his chest firmly against your back with him breathing heavily into your neck. You could feel his erection against you and sighed.

It was such a relief for you when he slipped his hand into your underwear.

“You’re fucking drenched,” he whispered into your ear, then licked the shell of your ear. “You don’t even need foreplay, do you?”

You wiggled your hips against his crotch in confirmation and he groaned at that.

“Fucking humor me, though, will you?”

And then his fingers were rubbing furiously at your sweet spot in a circular motion. Your head began to spin as you thought he knew exactly where to touch you. Thinking back to when you masturbated to him fucking you, you realized it felt so much better having someone else touch you. Your hips ground against him each time he gently pinched you in a certain spot and you exhaled shakily, enough to fog the door’s glass panels. You looked to his porch and saw two kids playing football across the street and panicked. Could they see what the two of you were doing right now?

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he suddenly asked, then pushed you more into the door, giving you no room to move away. “That someone could see you, see my fingers fucking into your pussy. You want them to see us, don’t you?”

You closed your eyes and moaned loudly at his crude words, not willing yourself to agree with him out loud but knowing he was right.

“But we’re not going to give them a show—at least not today.”

Then he was pulling you away from the door without taking his fingers out of your underwear. He rubbed you even as he walked you over to the dining room table, then bent you over. Just as one of his fingers went to your entrance, he pulled it out of you, sucking the digit into his mouth slowly.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked you, smoothing his hands over the skin on your back. Pushing up your shirt, he began to lick and kiss at the skin there before tugging at your underwear. “Huh?”

You heard him undoing his belt buckle, then his jeans fell to the floor a second later. You didn’t hear him pulling down his boxers and realized with a low moan from the back of your throat he hadn’t been wearing any. Your underwear was still around your heel, but he didn’t seem to care. You looked over your shoulder at him to see him looking down at you with a smirk on his face as he stroked himself, then bit your lip when he rolled a condom over the shaft. With each fast movement of his hand up and down his cock, he made sure the condom was secure before he grabbed your hip, using his other hand to guide himself into you slowly. It already felt bigger than your fingers and you groaned, but it wasn’t an unwelcome stretch. He was so thick that even the tip was stroking your walls, leaving no room for even one of his fingers. After the head of his cock was inside of you, he moved his hand away to grip the other side of your hip and thrusted himself forward to slide into you the rest of the way.

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, fingers clenching and unclenching at the feeling. He wasn’t moving but you couldn’t form a single competent sentence, amazed at the feeling of him inside of you. There was a small spark deep within you that seemed to flicker on just by the thrust of his hips.

“You okay?” he asked after he stopped moving, rubbing circles in your hips.

You nodded at that and that was all he needed to finally start pounding into you. Moaning into the table, your nails scratched at the wood. You started to press yourself back against him and not just lay there while he fucked you, and then he was pressing down on your back.

“Curve your back downwards,” he whispered into your ear, and you did exactly that.

Almost immediately, you moaned out loudly as you could feel him brushing against a spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and he was grunting as his hips smacked against your ass, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He kept changing the pace—from fast pumps to deep thrusts.

“Can we…” you breathed as he kept hitting that spot inside of you. “Can we move to the couch?”

He didn’t answer you, but simply pulled you against him. Pulling out of you with a wet squelch, you whined lowly, but then he was turning you around and kissing you so hard that you could feel your lips begin to bruise. Your lips were tingling as he pulled away but then his lips brushed against your own again.

“Arms up,” he growled into your mouth, then kissed your bottom lip.

You lifted your arms and he easily pulled your shirt over your head, then reached behind you to undo your bra. At the sight of your bare chest, he cursed to himself, then walked himself backwards and pulled you with him to keep kissing you until you both toppled over onto the couch. He flipped you over onto your back, your hair framing your face beautifully. His eyes softened at that and he settled himself on top of you, kissing your neck, the shell of your ear, until he reached your chest. His tongue swirled around one of your nipples and you moaned loudly, cradling his head to your chest, then he was giving the same attention to your other nipple.

His hand reached down to firmly grasp himself and slip back into you, the both of you moaning in unison. Your underwear was still wrapped around one of your feet somehow and he ran his other hand that was rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger down your stomach torturously slow and to your leg to grab the delicate fabric and toss it somewhere behind him. Then, he was smoothing his hand back up your leg to wrap it around his waist, anchoring you to him. On instinct, you wrapped your other leg around him and he started to hit that same spot he was hitting when you were bent over on the dining room table. You twitched in pleasure and he caught that, smiling down at you.

Your hands bunched the fabric of his t-shirt around his hips, dragging it upwards until he pulled it the rest of the way off and threw it in the same general direction as your underwear.

“You’re always so cute, even like this,” he whispered against your mouth when he leaned down to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you up so you were sitting in his lap. Thrusting into you from below with fast strokes, your head fell back and your lips disconnected. The hands at your back kept you from falling over, then slipped to hold your ass cheeks in his hands.

You moaned loudly, then found his lips again blindly, breathing into his mouth, “This feels s-so g-g-good, Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he asked, licking and biting at your swollen lips.

“You’re so big and…” you started to say, then your mouth opened into a silent scream when he gave a deep thrust in appreciation. “You’re getting to places even m-my fingers couldn’t r-reach. I can feel you in my t-throat.”

“Your fingers, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at that, realizing you just admitted you masturbated out loud. Instead of asking you to go into more detail, he started thrusting into you even faster and your breasts bounced with each movement of his hips.

“H-Harder,” you managed to whisper in a hoarse voice.

Instead of saying anything, he obeyed you and you ran your fingers through his hair, your nails digging into his scalp. You glanced down at where he disappeared inside you with each thrust, whimpering at the sight. His hips were a blurred movement and you felt like he was impaling you on his cock. That spark you felt the moment he thrusted into you felt like it was about to explode any second. He growled into your mouth but kept going at the same pace, your moans urging him to go even faster. You could feel yourself almost reach your peak, but then he was spurting his cum once, twice, three times into the latex condom.

You whined when he pulled out of you, then felt him moving further down the couch to pull you by the back of your legs so his face was inches from your vagina. He looked up at you, as if asking if you were okay with this, and you nodded frantically. He chuckled and it vibrated against you, still sensitive from how hard he’d been fucking into you just minutes ago. He licked an experimental strip from the bottom of you all the way to where your lips met, sucking your bundle of nerves between his lips. You’d been so close already that you knew it wouldn’t take you long to reach your first orgasm.

One of your hands fell back against the arm of the couch and gripped it tightly. When he added in a finger and started pushing it in and out of you at a slow yet deep pace, you arched your back. He alternated from using his fingers to penetrate you and circle your clit. Your hips began to grind against his face, whispering desperately for him to go faster, to go harder.

Your legs closed instinctively when the hot feeling inside of you felt like it was about to burst, having never orgasmed before. It made you want him to stop but have him keep going at the same time. He easily pried your legs apart and held them there as he went back to using his tongue instead of his fingers. You couldn’t control yourself as you kept moaning—and loudly, at that.

And then you were coming apart on his tongue.

He pulled back with your cum coating his chin, then wiped it off with the back of his hand. After a few seconds, your eyes opened tiredly, beaming up at him.

“Did you…” you tried to ask, but were panting too heavily. “Did you mean… what you said?”

He stood up and removed the condom, throwing it into the trash. Pulling your spent form up so that he could situate you between him and the back of the couch, you stared at each other happily.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” he said with a soft laugh.

“About…” you trailed off and your fingers danced across the skin of his sweaty chest. The fringe that always fell in his eyes was matted to his forehead but you could feel a bead of sweat dripping down the side of your face, too. He looked into your eyes, curling you more into your chest. “…going out with me?”

“You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” he whispered, pecking your lips once, then another before he pulled away. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think you’d want a relationship with me and just wanted to…” You hesitated, then continued, “fuck.”

He sat up slightly. “Let me just remind you that this happened because of you. I wanted to wait but you practically threw yourself at me and gave me no choice but to give into your demands.”

Your cheeks burned at that, then you were shoving at his chest. “That’s not—! I didn’t throw myself at yo— Fine, maybe I did, but who was the one who followed me into a bathroom just to tell me how badly he wanted to fuck me, huh? I seem to remember that was you.”

“Say fuck just one more time,” he said, and you sat up, rolling your eyes.

“Why? You say it enough for the both of us.”

He laughed but didn’t push you any further. Standing to his feet, he offered you the palm of his hand and you accepted it. You looked around for your underwear, then walked over to it in a pile with his jeans and boxers. Just as you started to slide them up your legs, however, he stopped you.

“Take those panties off right now.”

You paused, the delicate fabric halfway up your thighs, and looked over at him in surprise. Did he want to… Already?

“Not for that, but you should try living the exhibitionist lifestyle,” he said with a grin. “Feel how freeing it is. Walk with me.”

When you didn’t move, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, tossing your panties behind him once again. You pounded your fists against his back but not with any force behind them. He just laughed and you felt the vibrations, smiling into his bare back.

“So, I’m thinking we go to a drive-in theater tomorrow.”

You perked up at that as he set you down on the kitchen counter. “Really? I love the movies.”

“That’s nice but we’re not going there to see a movie,” he said with a sly grin.

“We’re not going to be driving there naked, are we?”

He moved to take some lunch meat out of the fridge along with some mayonnaise, then went through the cabinets overhead to pull out some white bread. When he dug a butterknife out of one of the drawers, you hopped off the counter and poked at his cheek.

“We’re not, right?” you asked again, but he ignored you. “Jungkook?!”

And that’s when one of his roommates walked in. He let out a sound of protest when one of his shoes kicked at your skirt by the front door, then his eyes fell onto your naked figures arguing in the kitchen.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, JUNGKOOK!” he yelled, dropping his backpack to the floor with a thud. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you to put some clothes on—?! Who is sh— I’m going back on campus. I hate you all.”

[the-questionmark-kid]

Once Upon A Fuckin Time

Probably gonna post about it now, so if you dont’ want to see this awful thing, just blacklist ‘ouat’ or ‘happy beginnings’ (i’m trash i am actual trash dear fucking god)

I finally finished this hell show and I’ve got a lot of thoughts so yes there’s spoilers this entire post is spoilers i’m so angry-

Alright in all honesty, I truly unironically enjoyed watching Once Upon A Time. The idea is wonderful, it’s everything a younger me would have wanted; fairytales existing in the ‘real’ world, their memories locked away until a fated day, magic existing all around us if only we know where to look. I love it. So many of the characters enchanted me, whether because of their strength, their intelligence, their kindness, or their cunning. The plot WAS interesting, for a time, some arcs better than others, some storylines falling flat while others reignited my interest in the show as a whole. But there was a lot of unnecessary mucking around in some ways, I feel. 

So to start, let me just say I began watching this show last year, it’s literally been over a year since I began this due to my fucked up attention span and work and sleep schedule and personal projects. So my memory of the storyline has always been a little disjointed. However: I did just marathon the last two goddamn seasons so I remember everything with near perfect clarity (aaaand I needed to watch some happy Rumbelle scenes so I went back over those episodes). And there are things I have issues with that like…aren’t even just my opinions, they’re just structurally bad for the series? I suppose that’s still an opinion, but I’m quite positive they’re opinions shared by many.

Now my biggest issue is honestly with how the writers handled Rumpelstiltskin, he himself but also his relationship with Belle, his sons, and his overarching destiny. But that doesn’t truly bother me that much until probably the middle of season 5 (that’s a lie, but this is how I’ll present the argument. I guess.), so we’ll skip that for now. First, I want to talk about the AMAZING opportunity they had to work with “the Moms” and how they threw it into the gutter:

1) Emma and Hook -Okay just….what the fuck. What was the Point. Captain Hook was one of my favorite villains as a kid, and honestly I was on board with this scrappy pirate and Rumple being the bane of each other’s existence. I enjoyed the feud for a little while, and the Emma not being swayed by Hook’s ridiculous attempts at flirting was a refreshing reminder of her true purpose in the show: she is the Savior. She has more important things to worry about than a romance. -Hook’s purpose was… Frankly, he felt expendable during the last two seasons, and when he died, I was thankful that arc was finally over. But beyond his practical uselessness, having to move on from Hook would have been very good for Emma, for reasons I was going to explain but I’m too fired up to get into right now. Point is, Hook’s presence stopped meaning anything beyond giving Emma her boy toy love interest. Given the fact that it’s a show about fairytales, okay whatever, that’s fine, but Emma is SUCH a badass! I actually LIKE this character! But by season 5, by the time Emma is as fallible as she can get as the Dark One*…most of her reasons for doing things are because of Hook. And frankly? That’s boring. Even Snow and Charming**, with their constant sleeping curses and “I will always find you” lines, still manage to be more engaging and keep me invested far more than Captain Guyliner trailing after Emma like a lost puppy.     -**On that note, can I just express my disappointment over David’s total lack of involvement in Emma’s life until season 5?? It felt like up until that point, David was just a side character that Emma never really spoke to and had barely any desire to be around, which I feel is a real disservice not only to the characters but to the phenomenal acting Josh Dallas provided when he WAS allowed to play as Emma’s father, not just Snow White’s Prince.

2) Regina -I didn’t like Regina until well into the third season, I’ll admit. She was a bad person who did bad things for very little reason, and it didn’t seem like her character was going anywhere. But I’m glad she grew. I actually have very little issue with the overall way her story went; she learned to love herself, which I feel was the most important thing for her to learn. That being said, that business with Robin Hood? Pretty unnecessary. Once again, it felt like a pointless romantic subplot meant to create drama and throw another snag in any potential plot building or character dynamic.

3) Emma and Regina - On that same vein of thought; I didn’t understand why my friend shipped Regina and Emma at first, but I sure as HELL do now. Jesus christ, what a missed opportunity. So much about them becoming a couple makes sense, would bring the series full circle; what could be more ideal than the product of true love, destined to defeat evil, falling in love with the personification of said evil? That is…the whole point of the show, I feel. That love and faith in those you love will always triumph over the darkness in the world. -Having them end up together also reinforces the central theme of family, as well as family found in unlikely places, which I got the sense was extremely important to Regina, Henry, Snow, Charming, Rumple, Baelfire, and Belle in addition to (obviously) Emma. -If Regina were a dude, they would have gotten together. Enough said.

4) Rumple -The series spent a great deal of time setting up Rumpelstiltskin’s tragic backstory, making his rage and his pain and his despair relatable, only each time his redemption seemed at hand, it was ripped away from him one way or another. -As frustrated as I am with Emma’s forced romances, Rumple’s actually make me cringe. Holy shit why are all the witches after the Dark One. Like, it’s not even Gold that they want, it’s literally scaly, deranged, conniving Dark One. And it’s not like Belle, who legitimately wants the man she sees struggling within, the witches are quite literally after the mad dog they see. And I am SO disturbed by this. Cora’s entire life did not need to be dictated by her obsession with a madman. Zelena did not need to be tossed away because she became infatuated with someone incapable of love. And that whole business with the Evil Queen in season 6? When he’s MARRIED? When he’s MARRIED to the woman he ACTUALLY LOVES, the woman he has a SON with???? I am. Actually disgusted with the writers for that cheap little drama. It just seems so incredibly out of character? Especially for how Rumple is in that particular moment when the Evil Queen approaches him. -Forcing Rumple to walk the line between light and dark even after he makes decisions that, for any other character, would be a decisive moment of positive growth. The struggle with the dagger and his ultimate decision to give it to Belle, the loss of his power on numerous accounts and the realization he could be strong without it, pulling Ex-fucking-calibur out of the stone and throwing it away without asking for a single thing in return (an act that only someone with the heart of a true hero could undertake and yet he still reverts completely????), finding out he was predestined to be a fucking SAVIOR. My god. You cannot give someone all of this growth, all of this struggle and positive reinforcement, and then insist he’s still the ultimate form of evil in the world. That’s. Incredibly hypocritical. Even when he’s still technically a villain and Isaac writes him his happy ending, Rumple’s deepest desire is to be seen and revered as a hero; he WANTS to be good, to be admired, to know his wife and son are proud of him. Even during this reality where he never became ‘evil’, he struggles with morality, something no other villain in that alternative story did. I am beyond disgusted by this character’s treatment. -You know what, there’s so much that dissatisfies me about Rumple’s treatment, I might have to rant about it in a different post. I was given a fallible character with an intriguing backstory whose reasons for doing evil were the best of intentions; who when approached with any sort of honest kindness or love, struggles daily with concepts of morality, humility, and selflessness; whose deepest wish is for family and heroism, a place of belonging and deep, unbreakable love; but there was no redemption arc. Correction: there were THREE redemption arcs, and each one of them fell flat for dramatic plot defects that served no purpose but to STOP this delightfully complex character from coming full circle and getting the arc he deserves. -I’m going to be salty for a long. Long time.

[viralhottopics]

The Walking Dead guide to surviving as a new business

Image: Gene Page/AMC

[Editor’s note: Spoilers for The Walking dead throughout.]

Its bleak and we both know it the kind of soul-crushing downer that goes way beyond horror and into something more existential and emotionally haunting.

The twists are exciting, sure, but its not so much the unexpected that scares us; its the stuff we saw coming or (in retrospect) the stuff we should have seen coming. Theres happiness from time to time bright triumphs of human spirit and social ingenuity but if were honest, those moments, just like everything else, are short lived.

According to the Startup Genome Report, the survival rate for startups is a mere 10%. Put more starkly: 90% of all startups die within their first three years. (Oh, did you think we were talking about something else?)

As Robin Chase, co-founder of Zipcar and Veniam told Foundr Magazine: Startups are really hard. Every successful one had terrible hurdles and setbacks that they had to overcome. These challenges are the norm and not unique to you and your startup.

Its bloody, sweaty, tear-filled work but once youre hooked, good luck turning away.

The question is: What do startups have to do with a pop-culture phenomenon like The Walking Dead?

Turns out, everything.

In fact, there are at least four lessons everybodys favorite post-apocalyptic horror-scape can teach you about surviving as a startup. Here they are in all their unsettling glory.

Never fall into a coma (or get caught sleepin)

Image: AMC

Rick Grimes nightmare like most zombieland protagonists begins with a wake up. Hes alone, disoriented, and (as usual) oily. The world has changed, and not for the good.

The lesson here is obvious, but many startup founders still ignore it. Whether your niche is B2C, B2B, SaaS, or old-fashioned ecommerce doesnt really matter the world changes fast. Everyday a new technological evolution emerges: Drones, self-driving cars, holograms, dynamic online personalization, VR, AR, AI, and a host of other acronyms. And that doesnt even factor in trends in the wider culture.

Daniel Marlin from Entrepreneur and the Huffington Post puts it like this: The same rings true for the changing landscape of start-ups. Consumers evolve, corporate hierarchies adjust and sometimes cease to exist altogether in favour of a more dynamic structure.

The best way to stay awake is to combine two approaches. First, take advantage of social-listening and online alert tools to systematize paying attention, both to your industry and pop-culture trends. Barring this automated approach, new developments will inevitably fall through the cracks.

Second, regardless of your niche, service, or product, do whatever you can to move towards an agile workflow. First used in car manufacturing and then applied to technological development, agile prioritizes iterative testing, runs on tight feedback loops that include real users, and puts decision making in the hands of the people who are closest to the problem being solved.

In truth, these two steps are the only way to ensure you dont wake up to a future thats passed you by or one thats stalking your death.

Never hesitate to murder your darlings (even if its your mom)

Image: AMC

In a show full of heart-wrenching scenes, few stand out like the death of Lori Grimes. Matricide is a bold move for any plot, but immediately after giving birth well, brutal doesnt really do it justice.

And yet, however brutal it may have been, one of the keys to surviving The Walking Dead is to do whatevers necessary, when its necessary, sometimes to even those we hold most dear.

The same is true for startups.

Part of what fuels startups is the belief in an idea. Such belief is crucial when it comes to enduring the inevitable ups and downs that confront all founders. The trouble is that belief especially dogmatic, hard-headed, despite what everyone says I know its brilliant has a darkside you might not expect: Love.

When we come to love our ideas themselves, not the solutions they aim to offer, we become blind. We lost sight of what really matters: not products, not promotions, not methods outcomes. In his 1913-1914 Cambridge lectures, On the Art of Writing, Arthur Quiller-Couch was the first to coin the phrase murder your darlings, and Stephen King took it one step further, Kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler’s heart, kill your darlings.

As hard as it is to watch on the small screen, following that advice is even more difficult in the real world. Brittany Berger head of content and PR at Mention offers this advice as an antidote: You need to remember that you do not matter. Separating myself from my work has been key in helping me make decisions based on business instead of emotion.

Case in point, one of Brittanys darlings was Mentions weekly Twitter chat. As a social media startup, that makes perfect sense. The only problem was, it didnt deliver any bottomline results. Popularity can fuel our egos and certainly has a role to play in marketing and PR but if it doesnt deliver, its time to break out the machete.

37Signals founder Jason Fried nails this fundamental principle: Start getting into the habit of saying noeven to many of your best ideas. Use the power of no to get your priorities straight. You rarely regret saying no. But you often wind up regretting saying yes.

In other words, be ruthless with the ideas you love. The more you love them, the more dangerous they can become.

Never make a bad situation worse (and it can always get worse)

Image: AMC

As disturbing as Carl Grimes’s matricide was, Season 7s premiere The Day Will Come When You Won’t Be took it to a whole new level. After the long-awaited arrival of Negan, Abrahams folksie, profanity-laced wisdom was the first to fall victim to Lucielle.

Bad situation? Yes. But does it gets worse? Indeed.

In a fit of justified outrage, everybodys favorite unfortunate son, Daryl Dixon, rises up. He cant help himself, and we get it. Unfortunately all the righteous indignation in the world wont help when youre outnumbered and outgunned. Driven back to the gravel, we wait for the hammer or, more accurately, the bat to drop.

However, in lieu of Daryl, Glenn is the second to go (complete with some serious eye-bulging and character-breaking guilt for Daryl).

The lesson? No matter how bad a situation is, our tempers, resentments, fears, and especially our mouths can always make it far worse. Whats more, the stress levels inherent to startups makes this an even more pressing concern.

Lively discussion is one thing. And fostering a culture of disagreement is essential. But those two ingredients only take shape in the shadow of another: Safety. Combining two unlikely sources the first cast of Saturday Night Live and Google Charles Duhigg calls attention to the crying need of safety in successful organizations: [M]ost important, teams need psychological safety. To create psychological safety team leaders needed to model the right behaviors.

These behaviors include deceptively subtle habits like not interrupting team members, ensuring everyone has equal time to participate, and especially calling out intergroup conflicts and resolving them through open discussion. Notice that each is about what leaders dont say, biting their tongues and pushing back against their own knee-jerk reactions.

Its obvious you dont want to be a Negan-style leader, but the Daryls inside all of us are far more likely to make things go from bad to worse within a startup.

Never go in alone (ever)

Image: AMC

While the previous lessons all come from some specific high points in The Walking Dead, we could easily locate this one in every episode ever. Dodging zombies might get you out a sticky situation now and then, but finding food, fire, shelter, weapons, medicine, and transportation is not a single player sport. And that doesnt even include the threat that comes from other people.

Simply put: If you go in alone youre not coming out.

As with zombies, so with startups. Launching a successful product or service is just the first fight. You also have to develop sales, marketing, and public relations as well as run bookkeeping, accounting and finance. Theres funding, operations, hiring and firing, building and then maintaining QA on a website, customer service, and most daunting scaling. The list goes on and on and on.

In the words of Leonard Kim, one of Inc. Magazines top digital and youth marketers: If you’re thinking of doing a startup yourself, then you have absolutely no clue what you’re in store for. I’ve spent most my adult life doing startups and and if I can admit I don’t know how to do so many of these things, then it’s okay for you to do the same.

Admitting our ignorance doesnt just apply to teams, it also applies to partners. After getting burnt early on in his career by a bad choice, Mashable contributor Josh Steimle took a hardline and decided to go it alone in his own agency. As he explains: I struggled for the next 10 years, never really getting anywhere. Finally, in 2013 I relented and brought in a partner. A year later revenue was three times larger than it had ever been before because I invested in the right person that excelled where I couldnt.

More than just surviving

Of course, at the end of the day, you want your startup to do more than just outlast the 90% who dont make it. You also want to thrive.

How? By paying close attention to what might at first appear to be an unlikely source: The Walking Dead. First, stay awake to trends and innovations. Second, say no even to your most-loved ideas. Third, cultivate safety instead of making bad situations worse. And fourth, surround yourself with people who can address your own weakness.

Theres no denying its bloody, sweaty, tear-filled work. Robin Chase was right: Challenges are the norm. But if Maggie Rhee can bring new life into an all but dead world so can you.

Aaron Orendorff is the founder of iconiContent and a regular contributor at Entrepreneur, Lifehacker, Fast Company, Business Insider and more. Connect with him about content marketing (and bunnies) on Facebook or Twitter.

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