#almost 21 and literally million fucking times

[disneyprincemuke]

passing the phone (rookie edition) * fem!driver

(series masterlist) | (📂 a day in the life)

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who texts like he’s writing a professional email.”

oscar scoffs, staring off camera as he takes the phone into his hands. “excuse me for writing the way i was taught.” he lifts up the phone. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who didn’t know what a kilometer was until he was 15.”

“because i grew up miami, the fuck,” logan mutters. he sighs. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who has a million problems with drs, which, seems to only be his issue.”

“whatever.” oscar scrunches his nose. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who tripped when she was stepping up to the podium and then cried about it for a half hour on the way home.”

“wow,” she mutters, eyebrows furrowed as her cheeks slowly turn red. “passing the phone to somebody who barely remembers our trip to barcelona because he partied too hard.”

“passing the phone to somebody who’s a 21-year-old virgin but gives advice like she’s a licensed therapist,” oscar says quickly, putting the phone down to smirk at her smugly.

“passing the phone to somebody who got suspended from school for a week because he told the teacher that he didn’t care about school and had to miss a karting race that weekend as punishment.”

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who had a crush on our literal best friend,” oscar says, leaning into the mic and whispering as he looks around cautiously.

logan stares into the camera wide-eyed, slowly turning to oscar who’s giggling in the corner. “what the f-“

he reappears at the camera, calmer this time. “passing the phone to somebody who talked to the quiet girl making top 30’s during karting because he thought she was kinda cute.”

oscar sighs. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who cried outside the club in singapore because the food we ordered for dinner was too spicy for her to handle eating.”

she rolls her eyes. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who got catfished in secondary school by a guy pretending to be a girl.”

logan smiles, cheeks red as he held the phone up. “i’m passing the phone to somebody who got broken up with over a 13-second phone call.”

“low blow,” she frowns. “passing the phone to somebody who pulled up to the club with fake eyelashes because he lost a bet to me.”

“passing the phone to the girl that picked up and adopted three kittens she found in a box at the corner of the street in austin at 5am after a night out,” logan scowls.

“i’m passing the phone to somebody who made being american his entire personality.”

“and i’m passing the phone to somebody who almost made us miss our flight because he left his passport on the toilet sink at the airport,” logan scowls.

oscar’s lips are pressed together in a thin line. “i don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1

[gretahayes]

literally nobody fucking asked but here's my idea for a core four repair shop au.

they're young adults, like 21, and are out to forge their own paths as heroes and stuff. they're back together as a team—the four of them, again and always—and go to a quiet town with minimal, if any, other hero activity. tim's a city boy, but he makes the commute to the nearest city to get resources and stuff, and they've got a zeta back to gotham since everyone else can fly/has superspeed to get back to their cities.

they buy a nice house tucked away, get it soundproofed, and decide to renovate it themselves despite tim quite literally begging them to let him pay for someone else to do it.

while making a mess of the renovation, they find a quaint little shop for sale and are enamored by it, so they (read; Tim) buy it, and set up a shop, because hey, why not, and they put their plentiful skills together and make a repair shop.

(it's got no name, because they couldn't think of one, but they call it the fixing shop. locals call it that too, and when anyone needs something fixed, they take it to the fixing shop)

what does it repair? well, everything.

that's not a joke. if you broke anything, there's at least one of them that can fix it. from cars to metalwork to tech to dolls, if it's fixable, they can fix it.

the shop's a mismatch of several different workstations, an interior designer's worst nightmare, but it's cosy. homey.

there's general prices in their heads but like none of them are really doing this for the money? so it varies based on circumstances and how hard the job is.

if a kid comes in crying with a broken toy, cassie fixes it and accepts whatever the kid can pay for payment—if nothing, she does it for free. some snobby asshole comes in wanting to fix the expensive car they crashed while drunk driving and kon fixes it, sure, but the bill comes up to close to a million. and kon's sort of the only one that can fix it this well? so the person just pays and leaves, fuming. a distressed college kid comes in with a cracked to hell laptop but they can't afford another one and tim makes it good as new—the several, several parts he replaced make sure of that, like seriously it's barely the same laptop anymore—for ten bucks. he refuses to be paid any more. a nervous teenager comes in with a ripped dress, bart stitches it expertly well—and expertly fast—and charges fifty cents.

locals wonder about their scars, wonder about where their families are, wonder about the visitors they get, wonder how they have so many skills, but the core four just smile and say "trade secret"

if you come at the right time, kon's pulling a fresh batch of pastries or cakes or various other sweets from the oven and he hands them out. they're ma's recipe, made with love and all, so of course they're delicious.

cassie's finishing university locally, her mom wanted her to, bart and kon do it online, so their working hours are a bit odd. but they did accelerated classes and busted their asses to graduate a year early, so they're really proud of themselves.

tim finds ways to occupy himself.

it may or may not be a hotspot for supernatural activity, but they made friends with the creatures so it's fine

when cissie needs a break she comes to stay with them and everyone's happy. sometimes anita carves out time to spend in their peaceful little safe haven, and greta comes and goes when she has the time.

it's almost sickeningly domestic. sometimes after a fight they stumble home bleeding and sweaty and hurt, but happy.

[kanmom51]

JK live 12 June 2023 7:02 am KST

Cr./ to creators of media used in this post.

JK came to us early in the morning, brought us into his bedroom, into his bed, to be with him as he falls asleep.

This was intentional, not a fluke.

JK knew he was going to fall asleep with us, and he also knew what the company's thoughts were on the matter, and he just didn't give a flying fuck.

One thing you couldn't see in the twitter translations was that cheeky smile, lol.

Man knew what he was doing.

He knew it. He just did. Fact: it took them longer to turn off the live this time than last time, lol. What was it? 6-7 minutes more or less?

JK tells it how it is.

He is gentle and genuine and just so real. When he tells us he's a human being he also shows it to us. He's not flawless and he isn't afraid to show us that either. He is a superstar with a heart of gold and some child like mannerisms. A pure soul. And I think that is partially the reason that millions of people will just sit there and watch him sleep for over 20 minutes.

Did he cut his hair again? Please no.

A summery of JK's live:

JK greetings to army.

An infomercial for the neck pillow, which is by now probably sold out.

"There are times when I snore and times when I don't...but I think I will I snore today."🤣

How can you not love this man? He literally turned on the live to fall asleep while telling us he missed us.

He tells us since he doesn't do IG, he doesn't do SM, so there aren't many ways to communicate with us. So he keeps looking for Weverse. Well, all I can say is "please don't stop".

Calvin Klein promotion from the worlds best brand ambassador ever.

Disappearing for a couple, talking to himself (most likely) in the background. I guess that answers his question if he talks to himself a lot.

Glasses on.

Glasses off.

Humming...groaning, lol.

Looks like maybe he fell asleep and then he comes back to us to tell us he was thinking just as he was about to fall asleep, that if he falls asleep: "If I really sleep I also think and imagine things that I don't want to think about. It's so fascinating..."

He ends with: "anyway, army you can't get hurt. I had a dreamlike thought about how you guys can't get hurt. We must be careful all the time. We can't get hurt."

I love his philosophical discussion with himself while half asleep. Granted, those are the times we are most likely to have our eureka moments. That is a fact. Lol.

I love how he is sharing these thoughts with us. I do hope that fans understand just how lucky they are for him to be doing this (yeah, that's wishful thinking, I know).

And from there on we have 21 minutes of JK playing sleeping beauty.

Live cut off by whoever it was in the company trying to figure out if and when they need to cut the feed off.

Well, at least they didn't have too many subs to add, hence the live being up and translated in a just a few hours.

Half of the subs for the live:

An almost perfect description of JK's live in 17 seconds:

JK's Weverse post 12 June 2023 14:34

You have got to love that man, lol.

Let's take a quick look at the numbers for a sec, again, just for fun.

JK's live was at 7:02 12.6.23

7+2+1=10

2+6+2+3=13

13/10

JK's post 2:34 pm 12.6.23

2+3+4+1=10

2+6+2+3=13

13/10

I think we have a few interesting weeks ahead of us.

I do hope that with everything going on we will still get to see this amazing so so special young man come to us to be with us.

And just before I go, I will leave you with this:

Oh Jiminah, you lucky bastard...

Also, love it when he has that JM out for show...

See you soon JK...

[writers-ex]

price tag

spider!yuna x gf!reader x spider!ryujin

word count: 855

a/n: i think my first angst…? idk but plz lmk if you like it or not really??? this was just idjfslkajka thank you @wannabe-icy for putting up with the back and forth for ideas literally bothered you so much so enjoy it also

“yuna how could you?? do you have any idea what the consequences will be-“

“shut the fuck up. i know what i’m doing, you don’t.”

imprisoning you against the wall with her webs, yuna rolls her eyes and muffles your pleas with another web to your mouth as she continues. as your girlfriend slash hero of the city proceeds to enter a bank across the street and returns with bags of money falling out. she starts counting the bills making the tears stream down your face, yuna glances at you.

“babe i know what i’m doing, remember how much we’ve struggled to make ends meet with my job as a photographer? the city had already offered me the reward for the last villain i faced i just….decided to cash my check in now.” 

walking over she cups your face with foreign eyes staring back at you. these weren’t the eyes you saw every morning before going to bed, nor were they the same ones that whispered i love you when you left to work. 

“the city owes us for all it’s taken away. the privacy of our relationship, my time with you, the ungrateful words of its citizens, our so-called friends betraying our trust-“ 

her fist balls up as yuna bows her head before pushing off the wall and clutching her chest. eyebrows furrowed her lips trembled as she gave you one more look, “-babe how much more am i supposed to give? there’s nothing left other than for me to take what’s deserved, for me to be repaid.” as she turned her back to you yuna heads over to the stack of money, alarms go off and sirens are heard while she continues. “i’m almost done and then we can go home to-“

“little sis i thought i taught you better than to stay near the scene of the crime after a heist?” eyes wide you turn to see the one person you would never have thought to show their face is now holding one of the stolen bags of money proudly.

“ryujin?!” the girl in question couldn't help replying sarcastically to yuna.

“yes that’s my name~ although i would prefer your lover to be the one screaming it.” winking at you she sets the bag down and walks toward the baffled younger.

“why are you-“

“here? well i do have spidey and sister senses unlike yourself, only i was planning on robbing this particular bank tonight and someone beat me to it…which is surprising because i thought we were supposed to be playing good cop bad cop?” ryujin’s eyes drift over to you as she fully takes in your... position. “and why is your girlfriend all tied up like a bad porno movie?” getting up yuna lunges to punch ryujin only to have her swerve and scoff.

“leave us be, it’s just this one time! it won’t happen again i’m just-“ holding a hand up she stops yuna from speaking.

“i don’t care about the backstory i’m only concerned about the three cop cars heading inside the bank, which may i remind you is full of your spider webs and no bad guy so….? it doesn’t take an idiot to put two and two together.” ryujin webs over to the wall you’re tied on and frees you from the stick situation, meanwhile yuna’s attention counting the bags of money.

“…21…22…23 million…i’m about 10 million short, shit! i must’ve left the other bag in the vault.”

“um…read the room little sister we have to go before- for fucks sake!” ryujin yells as yuna webs herself toward the bank hiding behind one of the letters of the neon sign on the roof. 

“yuna…” running into ryujin’s arms you bury your head in her chest and sob. “please help her….please.” the heart-wrenching whimper you let out makes her eyes well up in tears. taking one glance at her wayward sister ryujin takes advantage of the situation and pulls you in for a kiss making you gasp as she pushes you off and webs after her sister. confused and annoyed at what just occurred you watch ryujin hide on the side of the building attempting to get yuna’s attention.

fear keeps you standing still watching the spider siblings battle it out in the shadows. yuna comes out victorious as she holds the bags of money close to her body while ryujin pants loudly eyeing her younger sister crawl up the building. realizing that yuna is safe you breathe a sigh of relief and turn to get down from the roof only to find yourself surrounded by cops holding you at gunpoint.

“wait i can-“

you’re cut off by handcuffs gripping your wrists. before you can explain yourself an officer nearby drags you inside a squad car for questioning back at the station. waiting to leave you survey the bank and nearby buildings, spotting something red sneak back inside the bank as cops start to leave you feel a wound form inside your heart. yuna, the hero in your life became the one that betrayed you, the car starts and ironically so does your desire for revenge.

[soildmud]

reading inky mystery

good morning y’all, it is currently 3AM right now and i have developed some very strong opinions about inky mystery that i need to projectile vomit onto the internet. this is gonna be like a book review so i have some disclaimers/warnings:

#1: this “review” is not intended for the author, TAP, or anyone directly involved with the writing of IM. this is readers-only!

#3: i will most likely say very few positive things about the fic so if you don’t want to see negative remarks about your fav fic/story, maybe don’t read this. and also if you can’t handle strong language.

#4: i have not read all of IM, and there is a reason why. i will explain later on but i don’t need anyone to try and avoid spoilers. i don’t care for this fic enough to worry about that. talk to your heart’s content, i want to hear what y’all have to say!!!!

#5: i still enjoy inky mystery and its concepts and the overall story ideas. i think it’s fun and a cool spin on the original qftim au (an au that had so much potential and such shitty execution) and love how the fic has created an entire community around it! don’t get this twisted, i got nothing against IM or TAP.

now i’m gonna put the “review” (more like a rant) under a cut so as to not take up space on people’s dashes more than i already have lol—have fun!!

with such an interesting and promising premise, inky mystery has so far been a frustrating disappointment. i started reading it a while ago (had to stop because of school) and picked up again last night, hoping to get further into the fic and reach the parts that seem to be much more compelling than the exposition. i’m only on chapter 20 and already want to just stop reading it altogether. the more i progress through this the more i think to myself, “is this fic even worth reading 2.5 million words and 335 chapters?” as i’ve come to the beginning of chapter 21, i’m starting to think it most definitely is not.

obviously the biggest criticism is the length. there is absolutely no reason for why this fic is like 3 times longer than the fucking BIBLE. twelve “books” for what? to leave us in the same spot of the plot for the fifth time in a row when the conflict could have been resolved in almost half a chapter? the over-explanation of everything and the placement of practically useless dialogue is excruciating. i don’t understand how having chapter long bits of the warner shenanigans was necessary; i get it was meant for comedy but i don’t think they should dragged any longer than like a paragraph. their dialogue gets old incredibly fast, and it’s just a hinder to the fic’s flow. and before anyone says anything—I HAVE WATCHED ANIMANIACS BEFORE. in fact, i used to be obsessed with them and watched every episode until it stopped airing in 2014. i know they’re supposed to be the way they are in the fic but Holy SHIT DUDE. SHUT THEM THE FUCK UP ALREADY.

listen. i know this was originally written in 2017, but if you’re still updating this into 2024, at this point you need to remake the whole fic and shorten it. the way the author is updating the fic with basically filler makes me feel like they care more about creating content for their readers rather than actually writing a coherent narrative. you don’t need to take down the OG fic but there has got to be a way to shorten it so it doesn’t take literally a week straight to finish the fic in one sitting.

anyways. apart from that, i need to say that the writing style is so juvenile in a way that feels aggravating. i read the most recent chapter to see if anything changed and while it certainly improved in small ways, i feel like TAP still hasn’t learned how to not make sentences like four words long and dialogue sequences that don’t make up half the chapter. i also feel like the narrative is just…holding the readers hand and explaining every little thing like they expect the reader not to have any media literacy at all. i don’t need to know explicitly that boris and bendy are tired from walking for hours, i knew that from your narration mentioning their legs aching and them getting mucky from clambering in the forest.

next, i hate the random inclusion of unnecessary characters. the way the two detectives seem to only show up when it’s convenient and how the warners were used basically like a deus ex machina is frustrating. don’t introduce so many characters with so much detail and then have them show up like twice. i don’t know how to explain this because it’s almost 4AM now and my brain is foggy but god. when those two fox characters were randomly introduced at the end of idk what chapter to have a completely useless conversation with the detectives i felt so annoyed. i don’t know if they have any real significance later on in the story (and i don’t mean that they show up to say hi later) and honestly i cannot be bothered to find out if they do, but if they don’t, that entire section of the chapter was fucking stupid. let your MAIN CHARACTERS learn information from other sources for the love of god.

in the end, i don’t know if i’ll ever finish Inky Mystery, at least not anytime soon. i had fun at the start and now i’m just annoyed and frustrated. also, to the wiki people, PLEASE MAKE CHAPTER SUMMARIES AND SHIT—IT WOULD BE A DREAM FOR THOSE OF US WHO DON’T WANT TO SIT THROUGH 2.5 MILLION WORDS FOR PLOT AND STORY!!!!

also, i am not claiming to be a better writer or have superior knowledge to TAP. i think TAP is good at writing, but has some flaws that really limit their full potential. i myself am an amateur writer with no training or anything, but i am a reader, so that’s why i’m yapping.

ALSO ALSO, i am not doing this to shit on TAP or IM or anyone who likes this story and everything. like i said, i actually like IM and really want to get into it so i can make fanart and everything, but it has been a struggle and i want to voice that because this is my blog and i use it like a virtual diary. i will continue to skim and push through IM, and will most definitely use it as a learning tool for my own au, SITP.

again, this review was made with zero malice in mind. however if anyone wants to say anything i’m 100% open to conversation, and if this reaches TAP’s screen somehow, please know i’m not trying to be a hater!!! i love your ideas and the community you’ve created, promise!!!! i’m done now cus i’m tired and need to sleep so bye to anybody who read through this beast of a post lol plus i don’t have the energy to write all i wanted to say. sorry if there’s any mistakes i’m falling asleep as i write LMAO

bye!!!!!!

[drysaladandketchup]

okay so 1-53 for our mattdrai ask meme, pls ❤️😈😇

just kidding darling, let's say 3, 9, 21, 25 (because I'm evil muhahaha) and 36

I will be (im)patiently awaiting your answer

thank you my dear as always for the ask! I know you'd ask me them all if you could <3 (and I'd probably answer them all if I could lol)

3. What do you think Matthew said to Leon in the faceoff circle during the 2022 playoffs?

They were setting up a post-game date. Obviously. Okay my honest answer is I've watched the gifs/clip so many times (you know, like a sane person) and I think Matthew is most likely telling Leon to get on his side of the line, maybe saying something about how if he stayed on his side 'I wouldn't have to push you', and Leon's laughing at him because it's such a silly little thing that Matthew literally shoves him with his stick. Though looking at it again Leon is actually on his side of the line when Matthew skates up which is probably why Leon is like "really?" so maybe it's just two messy bitches who love being annoying finding any excuse to annoy each other. Watching the full clip, Leon is smiling/laughing well after Matthew backs off so whatever it was was probably more amusing than annoying.

9. What do you think Matthew meant when he said 'I can't answer that or he’ll get mad at me' in response to Leon's 'get off the ice' comment?

Oh the million dollar question. My best guess is since Matthew just finished saying that he does think Leon is a great player and he was looking forward to playing with him (and Connor), he probably just didn't want to say anything that could be taken as an insult or 'returning fire'. Like from a professionalism perspective, he wouldn't want to start anything by mistake. I would like to think he didn't take Leon's comment to heart anyways (even if he did skate off after scoring their goal together lol). Or maybe he genuinely thought if he said anything it would upset Leon because the media would almost surely make any back and forth between them into a bigger thing than it was, and rivalries aside Matthew does seem to be friendly and polite to everyone off-ice. I believe he respects Leon as a player, and maybe didn't want to create any negative impressions outside of the game.

Of course the gremlin in my brain likes to think Matthew was thinking 'oh hot german rival doesn't like me? he could fuck me about it if he wasn't a coward' but I imagine you can't say that on TV...

21. 2020 ASG or 2023 ASG? Which is superior?

Well, I mean... 2020 ASG is the sacred texts, isn't it? But I do love the appeal of the 2023 ASG because of the passage of time and the change in logistics for Matthew means the rivalries aren't really there anymore. And there's been some maturation all around. Plus all that time for shenanigans is warm, sunny Florida...

I think I'd still say 2020 ASG is superior, but I also tend to view them differently. Like 2020 is still mattdrai's 'enemies' arc (enemies who fuck??), while 2023 in my mind is more conducive to the 'lovers' part of their arc. 2020-2023 is the enemies-to-lovers arc to me, is what I'm saying. But the 2020 ASG is superior by proxy of the tension and the drama and the potential for angst.

25. Who would break up with whom? Who would be more heartbroken about it? How do they cope with the breakup?

Why would you make me think about this? I thought we were friends. Ugggh fine if I have to...

Pained as I am to admit it, I think Matthew would be more likely to break up with Leon. I just think Matthew is more capable of letting things go when he has to, even if it hurts. Break-up scenarios in my head usually go hand in hand with Matthew's move to Florida, and that need to kind of start over and reinvent himself, even if that means leaving everything behind, including Leon. But it would be the furthest thing from easy, and Matthew would not do it lightly. It's hard to say who would be more heartbroken: Leon is so deep in his emotions and loves with the entirety of his heart. I don't think it would hurt Matthew less, but I think Leon would struggle to compartmentalize those emotions more. As for how do they cope? They don't. At all. Drinking and cry sessions with friends and family I imagine. Maybe they don't talk for a bit until things have settled, but then maybe they do start talking again, slowly, testing the waters, trying to be 'just friends'. It's awkward, but it's better than nothing.

Of course in my head the separation never sticks. Screw your break-up I'm copping out and saying they get back together within 6-12 months. Enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers. HAHAHA

36. If Leon got traded to Florida and had to move in with Matthew, which one of them would learn how to cook and / or be good at it?

I still haven't figured out the answer and I started writing a fic about this exact scenario lol. Once again I'm leaning more towards Matthew for this one, mostly because it's his house and he is a 'I have to take care of people' kind of guy. Also I'm assuming Leon is still Mr. 'I could burn water' lol. But I'm sure once Matthew learns a thing or two (probably with the help of the team chefs and his parents, who definitely would come down to help him), he'll try and teach Leon a thing or two, and then they can cook together. It probably still won't be great but it'll be better than starving lol

mattdrai ask meme

[urutaguja]

Okay imma give y'all a list

High for me?? I don't do weed. But I plan to once I become 21 in September (edibles at most!)

For games that live my best rent free pass as an Autistic with Anxiety and Depression, my biggest games by current rank are...

1. Hyrule Warriors - Because they have a free mode, adventure mode and all things accomplishable, even the Lawn Mower achievents are so in tune (cut grass in battle, fuck yeah, weeded loot!) Despite some are difficult, your level aims permanent, upgrade and choose your fave (like me at Zant) and make em a weapon to behold (and cry due to limited ones). Everyone should give this game a go, even if they don't know much. The fact they added from the originals to the main eras we all grew up with are awesome, especially post ending 1, WIND WAKER ERA, BRO!!!

2. Katamari Damacy series - Oh to be a princeling whose like 2 cm small and have a macro ass kingly dad who has Childhood PTSD when you fail. This game is simple and yet challenging. What's the catch??? Roll! Roll a ball called Katamari, roll objects smaller or decent enough and have it grow by size! Each level has a timer and sure, demanding but those who know speed and strategy will easily get it done before it goes out. Managed to gain 3m? Keep rolling, make it bigger, which is always OH, SO SATISFYING!!! This game is a mix bit of a fandom, what I mean is that not everyone has gotten this game and since its resurgence, I am so grateful to come back to my childhood where I would sit in front of the tv, turn the PS2 ~ PS3, and roll, roll roll away, even if I am a grown 20yo man! If you finished the game once, you get options to go either hurry up, or eternal! And if you have played The Katamari Forever, you get to revert into the classic or the ever exhilarating and frustrating Rush mode, hope you got fast senses and even quicker fingers, cuz that things speeds up like no other. Almost puts Sonic the Hedgehog into shame! The best part is that Katamari, is always at your best disposal to have fun!

3. Indie Games with Management, Building - Like Astroneer, Hydroneer, Astro Colonies and so on so forth, you aim to achieve the lil things at your pace. Wanna research? Explore, explore, explore. Especially if you want resources or to aim for automation, so you can feel glad about lil tasks. Research one at a time, or do an overload (think Josh from Lets Game it Out) and BAM! OVERLOADED GREATNESS!~ I highly suggest trying this at a time, and once in a blue moon, more items and tweaks are at the discovery to your hand, and you support small game devs!

4. Minecraft - This is quite a shocker but it holds me in my heart still. Why so low, newer things call for bigger and unneeded challenges. I do admire the new things, for passive/neutral mobs. Explore, dig, make, create! The world is your oyster, literally. Go in survival and either have cheats or not, or go in creative and summon a million things and explode a chain link, have fun! Don't have shame in using cheats, if you get to have fun, so be it!

[bubblegumstardust]

Not even 10am on my birthday and I'm already sat here crying

[p1hypen]

hell shell — Y. KEEHO

your best friend is tiktok famous and convinces you to do a video with him. ft. tiktoker!keeho (p1harmony) x fem!reader genre! fluff, implied feelings between friends w/c! 2841

it’s no surprise to you that your best friend managed to blow up on tiktok overnight and has since then created a platform for himself on the silly app. with a whooping 564k followers and an abundant of consistent views that go for 600k to 1 million, you almost envy the public attention and popularity he so easily gained from posting one lip syncing video that wasn’t meant to be taken seriously in the first place.

at first it was a lame take at a joke, something to poke and prod at all the cis heterosexual corny males that do that lazy arm swing with their phones high above them to get the illusion of a facebook mom angle, while they flash their corniest smiles and barely move their lips to match the lyrics of the audio.

using what he’s learned from the algorithm on his ‘for you page,’ and doing enough retakes that the seven second song eventually engraved itself in your brain, you watched from your best friend’s bed with a judgmental look; cringing due to the second hand embarrassment of each redo.

keeho would laugh hysterically at every attempt, discard what he recorded, and do everything all over again. this repeated for about the twentieth time into the night until you decided to step in and snap at him to “just post what you fucking have already you dork!”

this would definitely be the last time you ever want to hear ball w/o you by 21 savage.

since then you’ve followed keeho throughout every tiktok video of him from behind the scenes with a front row seat either on his bed or out of view within proximity whenever he had his phone out to record. you would scoff, shaking your head and resuming your own leisurely activity of scrolling through instagram.

whenever his videos would pop up on your ‘for you’ page you never missed the opportunity to expose him in the comments to purposefully embarrass or call him out, cackling to yourself at the attention from his followers who usually replied to your comment with an “LMAO,” “HAHAHAH,” a keyboard smash of some sort, or the skeleton emoji.

“can you not expose me like that.” keeho whined, the dimly lit screen of his phone illuminating his face.

the two of you were watching a movie in his living room with a half eaten bowl of popcorn nestled in your lap. keeho’s attention toward the tv was long gone but you were adamant about actually wanting to watch the film. some cheesy romcom you picked since nothing else from netflix’s catalogue piqued your interest.

the movie followed the stereotypical best friends to lovers trope between the main characters. as per usual, both the guy and girl were in denial of their feelings for each other, scared to risk several years of being close friends that they’ve known each other only to possibly ruin it because they fell in love for the other person in their friendship.

it’s so cliche and corny that it makes you want to barf up the popcorn sitting in your stomach, along with the homemade wonton soup you made for dinner with keeho, and the melona bar you inhaled right after for dessert.

deep down you wish you could experience what the two leads in the movie have and are only shitting on the thought of best friends becoming lovers because you want something (cute and corny) like that to happen to you.

think about it. why spend another lifetime trying to get to know someone else and waste money on failed dates with a person you’re not even compatible with, when you literally have a friend sitting right next to you who knows all your embarrassing secrets; seen your childhood photos and family album; comforted you when you were at your lowest; took you to prom as their “date” even when there were a ton of other girls dying to go with him; and caught you standing in his room with just your bra and underwear on because he didn’t think to knock first before entering.

you sighed defeatedly. if only.

you came over because he invited you in the first place claiming that he was bored and alone by himself. he explained on the phone that his older sister, anna, was out with friends at some “fancy event or whatever” (keeho’s words not yours) and his younger brother was upstairs hiding in the room playing video games “or something.” with keeho’s parents constantly out of town due to work he hardly saw them as much as he’d like to.

lately it’s been like that. keeho beckoning you to his place and each time you would comply. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyways, and when it comes to your best friend, you’re down for anything. whether it’s a midday facetime call or a 10 P.M text at night, you somehow always find yourself with your two feet standing at his front door accepting his invitation to hang out.

even if that means he abandons his original plans to watch tiktoks (more like rewatch his own tiktoks and gawk at how “hot” he is).

the movie eventually came to an end with the long run of extended credits on screen. you let out an obnoxious yawn and stretched your arms above your head. you turned to observe keeho who was still entranced with his phone, no longer on tiktok and instead skipping through people’s stories on instagram with the quick tapping of his thumb.

“so, are we actually gonna do anything or am i just here for my health.” you nudged keeho’s thigh with your foot and he was quick to react by whacking your shin. “ow!” you kicked him harder this time and he shrieked at the pain, rubbing the sore area with scrunched eyebrows.

“what the heeeck, y/n. that shit hurt,” keeho whined once more. you simply scoffed at his behavior in the past two hours, arms folding over themselves as they rest against your chest in disappointment. “i know something we can do. there’s a tiktok—”

“no! absolutely no tiktoks i don’t wanna be in any of your thirst trap videos you do for clout.”

keeho’s bottom lip jutted out and you quirked an eyebrow at how (soft and cute) ridiculously stupid he looked pouting at you. “it’s not another one of my ‘thirst traps.’” his fingers doing air quotes when he said the word ‘thirst traps.’ such bullshit. he knew what he was doing each time he posted. he’s just too shameful to admit the truth because his ego is bigger than his pea sized brain.

you huffed, willing to hear him out when you let out a tiresome: “what is it?”

the silver headed boy pulled up a tiktok trend that was hot amongst couples a year ago, doing the little hip bouncing movement on beat to a sped up version of hell shell by young nudy. you knew of this, of course, because you remember cursing every happy couple in your head that would appear on ‘for you’ page. no matter how many of them you blocked, no matter how many times you pressed “i’m not interested,” tiktok would not get the hint that you despised seeing people in their own lovey dovey relationships.

the audio circulated on tiktok recently when people decided to bring it back expressing how distraught they felt that they have yet to do the dance with “someone’s son” or “daughter.”

“are you serious right now?” you craned your neck to look at keeho, breath hitching in the back of your throat unaware that his face was so close to yours. you quickly shot your eyes back to his phone and watched the tiktok replay for the ninth time as a nervous sweat ran through your body.

“c’mon it’ll be fun!” your best friend padded across the living room and propped his phone on a flat surface high enough to get a full body shot of you two in frame together.

you stood next to him awkwardly, your shoulders hunched forward just a little given your poor posture. staring at the reflection of yourself on screen you internally cringed at your appearance. you didn’t look as effortlessly great as the other pretty girls on tiktok do when they perform the bare minimum. it’s a wonder how blessed they were with the perfect genetics.

your eyes dawned on the sweatpants sitting at your waist and the random halter top you grabbed from your closet before leaving the house in a rush. your hair was tied in a high ponytail with loose strands that fell to the sides of your temples in a messy “i just woke up” type of way and not in a “i naturally look this cute” type of way.

off to your side standing merely five inches apart from you was your best friend. his fingers combed through his bleached locks, pushing back the strands of hair that fell in front of his eyes. you couldn’t help but to notice that silver on him enhanced his features and drew attention to his chiseled facial structure. high cheekbones, prominent jawline, sharp eyes, handsome nose, and the prettiest pair of plumped lips that put women who use fillers to shame. he worse the most basic outfit: an oversized hoodie and shorts that sit below mid thigh.

you stared [in awe] slightly fixated. never in a million years or in another universe would you think to find yourself checking out keeho, someone you’ve known since middle school and shared half of your life with so far.

who knew that the little boy that was once a troublemaker would grow up into a handsome young male. his only downside and biggest red flag being that he makes tiktoks for his 600k fanbase of followers. aside from that, you can’t help but to admit that keeho is actually a great person both above and beyond the surface.

he’s humble, kind, generous, a little snarky and sarcastic from time to time but you’re just the same, if not, worse than he is. it’s how you guys get along in the first place because no one else is capable of tolerating his sassiness and blunt attitude.

he was your shoulder to cry on whenever a guy would ghost you for no good reason or friend zone you without giving you the chance to prove your worth as a potential romantic candidate. he was there to soothe your tears when you had a nasty breakup with your ex almost a year ago. crying bloody murder on the phone when you instinctively called him right after the whole shit show went down. it was terrible, to say the least, a distant dark memory you wish never to bring out of its file cabinet you buried in the deepest pit of your mind. keeho understood the assignment and whenever a friend of yours or someone outside of your social circle tried to pry the details out of you, he would shoot daggers and shake his head disapprovingly of their nosey antics, to which they would back off and quickly shut up.

he was there to mourn the death of your family pet, haku, when he passed away after 16 years of a beautiful life with the best owners and loving household that gave him everything. as a little something to remember your memories of the yappy shih tzu he edited a one minute compilation of videos and photos you had with haku. that day you cried harder than you ever did over a boy (and missed the sight of keeho’s wavering lips when he held you in his arms while you sobbed into his shirt).

you’re grateful for keeho, an understatement that speaks volume for itself. although you don’t explicitly vocalize your appreciation for him you hope that seven years of friendship is sufficient enough to do all the talking.

“okay, ready? you spin around so your back is facing the camera and then we start doing the dance.”

you nod, heat rising to your cheeks when keeho starts the timer as you watch it count down from three to one. camera-shy eating at your confidence once you hear the music playing. you’re incredibly stiff and, not to mention, really fucking awkward trying to sway your hips to stay align with the beat.

when the song ends after what feels like a century over the span of six seconds, keeho belts out a screechy laugh at your guys’ first attempt of filming the dance. he scolds you for looking robotic and gets you to practice a couple of rounds to the music playing on repeat before he records.

“here,” he approaches you from behind while his hands naturally latch onto either side of your waist. you gasp under your breath and stare doe-eyed at the phone in front of you. “like this.” keeho breathes, guiding your hips and counting aloud the beat to help you match the rhythm of the tempo.

“i-i think i got it now, t-thanks…”

keeho’s grasp burns your skin through the material of your sweatpants. when his eyes trail your figure to the location of where his hands are he promptly retreats to his original position on your right side, not without clearing his throat as a beat of silence dawns on you both. his touch lingers and it sends goosebumps throughout your arms. you rub at your skin hoping to rid of the biological reaction your body has in response to what just happened five seconds ago.

“you cold?” keeho asks. his cheeks are dusted with the faintest shade of crimson red.

“oh— i’m fine! just felt a little chilly for a second.”

you tug at the hem of your top, secretly wishing you had worn something more comfortable with full coverage like a hoodie or a sweater. but no, you just had to pick what you thought might capture keeho’s gaze. what the fuck were you thinking—

“okay i’m gonna hit record.” your best friend announces, cutting you off of your internal mini meltdown.

once more the timer counts down.

3, 2, 1.

you throw up a peace sign at the camera scrunching your nose and adjusting your loose ponytail that’s slowly falling down from the height on your head. keeho nods approvingly at your drastic improvement, giving you a boost of confidence and encouragement you were missing in the first take. he grabs your hand, holding it in the air, when you spin on your heel to turn your back toward the phone just as he instructed you. with your fingers intwined, he gives you a reassuring squeeze gesturing that you’re doing way better than before.

you chant keeho’s counts in your head like a mantra singed into your memory. one-two, one-two, one-two, left, right, left-right.

it takes you a couple of seconds to register that it’s finally over when keeho gently drops your hold from his and grabs his phone to watch the replay. you peer over his arm and giggle at how ridiculous you look versus keeho who’s a natural at this sort of stuff.

“that’s the best you’ll get out of me so you might as well just post that.” you plop onto the couch and sigh heavily with a sheepish smile. maybe seven seconds of fame for being in a tiktok with keeho will give you the opportunity of a piggy back ride for free clout.

keeho jumps onto the empty space next to you on the cushions and leans his 5’10 figure on you, barely being able to support his weight given the four inches he’s holding above your head.

“posted it! that went better than i thought it would, to be honest. especially you, little miss stiff-and-awkward.” he poked at your leg teasingly and dodged the pillow you sent flying at his face.

“yeah, yeah. let’s hope none of your followers start roasting me or something.”

subconsciously your fingers tangle themselves in keeho’s hair as you comb from the roots to the tips. humming softly in content to himself, keeho switches apps to the camera and quickly takes a blurry selfie with your face cropped out, willing to risk the high dive off the edge of a cliff when he posts an eyeful of a lengthy rant on his private account about how much he (loves) is thankful for his best friend and other half.

the following morning you woke up to a spam of text messages from none other than keeho himself. it was 11:23 A.M and he sent those texts two hours ago when you were still asleep. it’s the weekend for fucks sake, why is he awake so early.

you rolled over in bed to lay on your stomach, rubbing your hand against your face, and blinking away at the sleep still evident in your eyes. you read through each keyboard smash until he was able to coherently put together a proper sentence in english.

[yoon steph (curry)] Y/N!!!

[yoon steph (curry)] OUR TIKTOK BLEW UP LMAOOAAOAO

[yoon steph (curry)] LOOK (Attachment: 1 image)

[yoon steph (curry)] everyone loves you bruh

[yoon steph (curry)] i’m gonna start forcing you to do more tiktoks with me 😈😈

you sighed. what the hell did you get yourself into.

[simonalkenmayer]

This is just so absurd I can’t not talk about it, so please read this short political analysis, even if you don’t usually read these, because this is…hilarious.

This election, almost 70% of the vote below the age of 21 went to democrats. Single women by a margin of 30 points voted Democratic. Minorities (particularly black women) broke for Dems overwhelmingly, black women mobilizing over 95% of their members in some constituencies.

The GOP is taking time to analyze this, running numbers, wondering how they can appeal to young people and women instead of only angry racist old white men…and these are their solutions so far as stated by multiple pundits on FOX, and why they are stupid:

Single women vote for Dems? Answer? Men, marry these women. Literally someone said “put a ring on it”. They said “it’s easy to see why single women vote Democratic—their policies keep women single”.

Why is this stupid? Well beyond the obvious misogyny of “we should just woo and marry women and then control them so they align with us politically”? There’s the fact that because women no longer need a man, to survive, men are now forced to bring character to the table, something many men (I’m thinking the alpha males of tiktok) never had to grow because of their privilege. You cannot just send men out into the world to literally conquer a woman’s heart. They’re not stupid. They can see when they’re not dating a decent guy. That’s why they stopped marrying them.

They’ve been, I kid you not,debating RAISING THE VOTING AGE TO 21.

Here is why that’s fucking idiotic, broken into many easy parts. 1. If they can’t vote, then they cannot be taxed, nor recruited for the military, nor jailed as adults. How’s that going to affect prisons, the military, taxes?

Well there’s over 600k active duty military below the age of 25 out of 1.35 million…you tell me.

16% of our tax revenue comes from the under 25 bracket

Oh right and what are they supposed to do? They can’t go to college, since….how are they going to be able to sign contracts for student loans if they aren’t being fairly represented or given adult status? Are they going to raise the legal age of adulthood since adults age 18-21 can no longer do anything of their own accord, extend high school again to stockpile them while they’re not being busy or just recruit them straight into the terrible service jobs in which the GOP hopes they remain?

I’m telling you…there is nothing to offer but no climate, rich billionaires, more debt, less freedom, less rights, and bigotry in that party. They want to destroy education to keep people stupid. They want to use religion to control. That party is not a party. It’s an evil conspiracy. Meaning the kids and the ladies will shy away. They have nothing to offer. Nothing. So they have to cheat.

Make no mistake the the abortion ban idea was specifically to encumber these two groups with crippling debt and dependency. That party has nothing to offer. Especially with trump running it. And this they well know. Most of his candidates lost. Most. And the red wave that was expected was nonexistent. One of two things will now happen:

My predictions:

Expect lots and lots of redistributing debates to cheat, I.e. gerrymandering but that’s a given.

1. Trump is a malignant narcissist. He doesn’t care about party or the country. During this election he said “if they win I should get the credit and if they lose I shouldn’t be blamed” a “head I win, tails you lose” if ever there was one. He will run again in 2024 despite the overwhelming repudiation by voters. He will (not?) win the primary, but he will take so much of the GOP base vote with him that it splits the vote and hands Dems a second Biden presidency.

Or

2. If the house is taken by the GOP, they will bargain with him to shut down federal oversight of him (including J6 hearings) to convince him not to run. He will still likely screw them in meaningful ways.

Unless he ends up in prison because of other investigations they can’t control…so the first seems most likely.

TLDR:

The kids and women are alright. Death to the Boomers. Enjoy your avocado if you can afford it. Don’t get married. Keep voting for change and keep using these platforms to educate your peers.

[callivich]

Reincarnation. Soulmates. An opportunity to live a million different lives together. But only one chance to make it happen…..

Ian remembers his past life with Mickey - everything from their first meeting to their last breaths. He knows that all he has to do in this new life is find Mickey so that they can fall in love. Once Mickey falls in love with Ian he’ll remember his past life and their soulmate bond will be sealed for good. If not? Then they will forget each other forever.

Problem is…ever since Ian turned 21 and remembered his past life, he’s not been able to find Mickey. His searches online lead him nowhere. And his memories are starting to fade (picture no.1), everything that was once crystal clear is now becoming murky, his past life is dissolving into the ether. He’s running out of time.

Only when he inputs Mickey’s full name into the search engine does something curious appear…..Alek Milkivich. A semi-famous photographer living in New York. Sure, the spelling of the last name is different but when Ian looks at the blurry, artsy photograph of a half-hidden face on the website - he knows it’s Mickey. He’d recognise those eyes anywhere.

He books a one way ticket to the Big Apple and arrives without a plan or a place to stay. Weeks later and he’s got a shitty job and an even shittier apartment but he hasn’t been able to track Mickey down. Thankfully, he lucks out when he sees a new entry on Mickey’s website. ‘Temporary assistant wanted - $15 per hour, two days a week for two months’.

With some help from Lip, Ian’s (very fake) resume lands him the job. Finally. He can be in Mickey’s presence again and it’s like he can breathe freely again. Everything feels right. But it’s not, not yet…at least. Because Mickey is clearly very closeted. Ian slowly realises Mickey isn’t pretending to sleep with or date women. In fact, he’s very much a loner who apparently has no life outside his photography.

Ian had thought this would be simple. He’d find Mickey again, they’d flirt a little, date, fall into a relationship and everything would work out. However, fate or whoever-the-fuck is not making this easy. Mickey’s closed off, awkward and hard to talk to. Ian is tasked with boring work like mailing photo prints and organising Mickey’s dark room - basically helping him get rid of the backlog of orders for his photography.

It’s getting dangerously close to the end of the two months and Ian isn’t sure Mickey even likes him, let alone loves him. He senses a way to extend their time together when Mickey mentions he’s trying to come up with a new idea for his next project. Perfect. Ian will just come up with an idea. Better yet, he’ll come up with something he’ll have to be part of….

Nudes. Mickey’s never done those before and according to Ian’s hasty research - it’s ‘hot’ in the photography world right now. But when Ian suggests he model for Mickey, he gets a bad reaction. And he thinks he’s blown it, that he’ll never see Mickey again. But days later, he gets a message and Mickey apologises. Says his agent loves the idea and that he’s reluctantly going to do it. If Ian is still up for it.

And hell yes, Ian is up for it. Despite Mickey’s nervousness (he even almost backs out at one point), they complete their first session (picture no.2). As the days go by and they have more sessions, Ian can tell that Mickey is into him. He knows him so well. Mickey’s even beginning to talk more. Opening up. Slowly, Ian realises that Mickey’s seeing Ian in a new light (literally). Ian wants more (picture no.3) but he knows he can’t rush things. If teenage Mickey in their past lives was skittish, this Mickey in their present life is even more so.

When the sessions are over, it seems like they have a moment but Mickey backs off. Thanks him and says goodbye. Ian is devastated. Is this goodbye for good? Will they lose the chance for forever? Or will they be reunited….(picture no.4)?

mini moodboard story challenge [x] | [x] | [x] | [x] [ more ]

[generallybarzy]

☆star☆

an: ahhh! my semester ends in 3 days so i should be doing missing assignments but instead i’m writing a fic about the isles won tonight!!!! Almosy 2k in 2hours I'm proud of myself!!! But mostly proud of the isles let’s go my babies i’m so proud!!!!!!!! Here's a fic about rewarding barzy with some soft sweet lovin after his game!!

tagging: @selenophileangel @deleausvp @dunnwithlyfe @smit41 @softboybarzal @fallinallincurls @matbaerzal @brokeninsidebutnobodyknows @hockeyhughes11 @folkloreflyers @nazdaddy @shawnsreputation @comphybiscuit @aboveaveragehockeyboys @canadianheaters @ifiwasshawnmendesidslapmyself @baby-cat-nol-pat

word count: 1.9k

warning: smut 

Mat missed this.

No matter how many times he stepped on the ice over the off season to stay in shape, or how many hockey games he played just for fun with his buddies in B.C., nothing could compare to the adrenaline of the real game. And certain games especially- such as playoff games and opening night. Opening night always set a precedent for the rest of the season; a good opening night was a great way to predict the season, and a great opening night… well, that was a great sign. Mat had missed this so much.

But, more than he missed the game, there was something he missed much, much more. Something almost better than the thrill of the game itself- coming home. Getting to come home after a win and seeing you. His girl. 

For a long time, Mat dreaded coming home alone after games. He’d stay out with his buddies as long as he could to revel in the excitement of the win and to feel the glory, maybe find some girls that would spend the night talking about how amazing he is, how much of a star he is, before he brought them to his apartment for the night and had them leaving before he even woke, early in the morning. But now, he didn’t have to do that anymore. No, he loved to come home. Because you were there. If you weren’t at the game with him, you were always there, waiting and ready to jump in his arms and congratulate him the second he stepped in the door.

The second the elevator opened on his floor of the building, he could see you standing in the doorway to his apartment, donned in his jersey and a pair of sweats, eyes locked on your phone. Your eyes shot up at the ding of the elevator that marked Mat’s arrival, and immediately, a smile brightened your face. Oh, how Mat loved the way he could always make you smile. 

“Baby!”

“Baby!” he mimicked with a smile as bright as yours, holding out his arms for you as you bounced over to him, giddy and excited.

“Baby!!!” With one last laugh, you tossed yourself onto him, and Mat caught you with ease, familiar with this post-game routine. His arms tightened around your back and tugged you close, and your legs wrapped around his waist. “You were amazing! My star!! My baby!!” His beautiful little giggles escaped his lips as you peppered kisses all over his cheeks, and soon he was setting you down. 

“Let’s get inside.” 

You grabbed his hand and nearly dashed inside, leaving Mat to chuckle and follow quickly, closing the door behind himself and dropping his backpack at the door before being pulled back down into you. Your arms came up to wrap around his shoulder, holding him tight and curling your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. You stayed like that for a moment, tangled up in each other in the entrance to his apartment, his hands on your waist and his nose in your hair, just enjoying each other’s presence, the comfort of your bodies touching in such a wholesome way, before you tugged his face down by his hair and lay your lips on him in congratulations.

“You’re so amazing, Maty. You did amazing tonight. It was crazy to watch.” You continued to pepper kisses across his face, his cheeks, the little cut he’d gotten during training, his cute chin, his nose, there wasn’t a part of him you didn't love. “You’re such a star baby, God. First it was your new contract and now tonight’s opener? God, I’m so proud of you. Couldn’t be more proud. I love you so much.”

He pulled back, a smile in his eyes when he saw the honesty in yours. His heart throbbed at the thought of making you proud. “I love you. Thank you for watching.”

“I always watch.” 

“Yeah? You’re my good luck charm.” 

“Yeah?” 

He gripped your waist tighter, sliding his big hands up the back of the jersey you were wearing, over his number, over his name- the name you wore so proudly. “Yeah.” 

“And you’re my star. My gleaming, beautiful star.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Now, let’s get you out of this suit, okay? Then I can really reward you for how amazing you are.” 

“Yes, please.” 

This was something else Mat missed about the season, the way your hands- so small and gentle compared to his own, compared to how he’d been playing all night- traveled across his body as you undressed him, stripped him down to his boxers and laid him out on the bed. He loved the way you kissed down his chest and thighs and told him to lay back and get comfy- you were loving him like he deserved. He loved it so much, the intimacy, the praise, the sweet talk. You had still done this for him over the off season, of course you had, but there was just something about getting back from a game and getting his reward that he had just missed so much. 

God, he’d missed his post-win blow.

He let his eyes slip shut and his head fall back against the pillow as you kissed his legs and tugged the last piece of fabric down this thighs. “I love your legs, Maty. So strong, they make you so fast, so good at what you do… and they’re hot as fuck.” You kissed all the way up his high and over his hip bones. “You’re hips, God, you can set a rhythm, if you know what I mean.” 

He laughed. “You can’t say ‘if you know what i mean’ if you’re literally about to blow me.” 

“Why not?” Mat just smiled again as you kissed up his stomach and chest, mumbling praises as you went. You curled your fingers through his and brought his hand up to your lips, and he opened his eyes slowly to watch you lay a kiss on each knuckle, gentle and soft. “I love your hands, the way you’re so skilled with them, during games you have all these amazing stick maneuvers, like that goal tonight. I know that was all for me. And you’re so skilled at touching me. It’s amazing.” 

“Mmm.” Mat was almost drowsy, the way you touched him and kissed him pulling him into a trance. “I’ll show you some of those skills later.” 

“The ones you use on the stick or on me?”

He laughed again. “Both.”

“After this, baby. I wanna reward you first. My star. My baby, my talented, sweet boy.” You planted one last kiss on his lips before scooting back down to his hips where his desire was aching for you. Your bottom lip tugged between your teeth like it did whenever you saw him, and Mat swore he could’ve come at just the sight. Your fingers rubbed slow circles against his naked hips as you pressed kisses up his length and finally- Mat thought- finally took him into your mouth. A soft moan fell from Mat’s lips, a breath of pleasure, a sigh of relief at the feeling of your lips around him- he would never get over it. You took your time, drawing out his pleasure as much as you could, but never holding anything back from him. This was his night, after all. He deserved this. 

The build up was slow, slow and soft and gentle as ever, starting low in his tummy and growing stronger and stronger by the second. It wasn’t the normal orgasm he’d have when he was on top, where he’d have to work for it, but one that built up and up and up that he got the pleasure of getting to lay back and experience it’s entirety- making it feel even more drawn out. Usually he’d be too busy to notice it until he was practically coming already, but now he could savor it, all the way from the little spark inside him to the rumbling fire that erupted. 

“Baby.” His hand came down to stroke your face.

“Maty,” You pulled back to praise him, laying wet kisses along his length. “I love you. You’re so amazing, so talented. You’re so talented, beautiful, sweet.”

“Baby!”  

“Let go, my sweet boy. Don’t hold back, you deserve it. You deserve it all, the awards, the contract, the 21 million, the star of the game, the attention. God, you deserve it all. And most of all, you deserve to come. Can you do that for me, pretty boy?” 

“Shit. I love you!” His mouth fell open in a string of praises, and his head dropped back again as your lips wrapped around him one last time before he erupted, thighs trembling and hands gripping yours like a life line. The groans that left his lips were some you’d never forget, how needy and desperate they were, how thankful he was to get his relief. He was breathing deeply in the aftermath of his orgasm, listening to your soft praise as you wiped your slick hand on his abdomen, vowing to drag him to the shower later to clean up. 

“C’mere, please.” He urged you to crawl up his body, pushing your hair behind your ear and pulling your down to cuddle against him, holding your body close and letting you feel him clam back to softness- both mentally and physically. He rolled to his side, keeping you tucked against his naked body and laying kisses across your face, just wanting to savor this moment for a few minutes longer. He was always so cuddling after coming, and you always found it so cute. Soon, his whisper broke the warm silence. “Did you mean what you said?”

“About?”

“Me. What I deserve.” 

“Baby.” You lifted a hand to stroke through his hair, knowing exactly what he needed. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m not kidding. And this new contract, it’s amazing for you. Tonight just showed everyone who doubted you just how great you are. How you’re worth it. And I swear, years from now, you’ll be playing with some new kids on the Islanders who grew up watching you, who grew up wanting to be like you. You’re building a legacy right now.” 

A flush lit up his face at the thought and a hopeful grin broke across his lips. With sleepy-half lidded eyes, he sighed. “I love you.” 

“Hm. Not more than I love you, star.”

“Oh no, much more.” 

“Impossible.” 

He just smiled and shook his head, knowing no one was winning this argument. Both of your loves were unmatched, and he was so, so lucky that was the case. 

“You know what else is great about you, Maty? How you’re still such an amazing person. You’re a hockey star, the isles’ golden boy, you have all this money and this fame in the hockey world, but you’re so humble still. You’re modest, you’re down-to-earth. You’re a guy anyone can talk to. I love that about you. It’s not just how talented you are, but it’s you as a person. You’re really going places, one day.” 

“Yeah?” His throat tightened and his words came out harsh and cracking at the thought of that. It was the future he’d always dreamed of. And to be told of it by the girl of his dreams seemed too good to be true. “You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope. And,” he cleared his throat, a little stuffy, but smiling nonetheless. “I want you there for all of them.” And you couldn’t think of any better outcome.

“I can’t wait.”

[chubbymoongoddess]

TW: Mentions of mpreg, slavery, rape and stockholm syndrome.

if this isn't your thing, don't read it. This is also set in modern times.

Longer version.

Omega Jm born into a royal family, making him the prince. It's rare for male omegas to be born, so he's extra special. The more he grows over the years, the more beautiful he gets. He literally has every man and woman in the kingdom wanting him by the time he's 21. Not only is he gorgeous, but he's humble as well and his kingdom loves him for that just as much as they love him for his beauty. Jm takes to time to greet and speak to everyone he can on his outings, making sure to listen to any complaints they may have so he can relay them to his father. Literally the definition of an angel.

Well, one night he goes on an unsupervised outing. Everything goes well until he's on his way to return home. It's late and the streetlamps are really the only lights on so it's not that easy to see. One minute Jm is conscious and well aware of what street he's on and the next he's out cold, body being hauled into a windowless, unmarked van. Of course this would happen on the one night he decided to sneak out by himself. He should have known better.

He wakes up with a massive headache in a cold, damp stone room, much like a cell, with shackles on his feet and wrists, the ones on his feet being connected to the wall. His breathing is heavy as he's terrified and it only accelerates as the door to the room opens, a strange man he's never seen before walking in with an annoying smirk on his face.

"Well, well, our gorgeous prince finally awakens."

Jm backs up against the wall as much as he can, voice shaking as he speaks. "W..Who are you? Where am I? Why.. Why are you doing this?"

The man just laughs, moving over to Jm, grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. "You're very sought after. I'd be stupid if I didn't try to catch you. You're going to sell for a very high price."

He was terrified before but those words make Jm's blood run cold. Fuck.. Fuck he had been captured by slave traders. If he was sold he knew he'd most likely fucking die after being tortured and abused for god knows how long. The only thing he could think to do was to plead for his life.

"No!! No please! I..If you let me go I.. I can get my father to pay you anything you want! Just please let me go!" There were tears in his eyes and his voice was wavering, bottom lip quivering as he tried not to sob.

The man just laughed, letting the omega's face go as he moved back toward the door. "The only thing I'll get if I let you go is sent to prison. What, do you think I'm stupid? Shut up and get some rest. Tomorrow is the auction day and I won't have you looking like some sort of sleep deprived zombie." and with that, he left, leaving Jm alone to sob himself to sleep on the hard stone floor.

Morning comes and jm is taken to a large room filled with seats with a single, circular stage in the middle. He watches as one by one, different people of different ranks and genders are auctioned off, until it's finally his turn and he's dragged up onto the stage by the shackles. He stands there as men start placing bids on him almost immediately. It doesn't seem to ever stop and jm just wants to go home. His attention is diverted when a man, obviously an alpha by his build, jm can't make his scent out in this room, stands up, offering more than 70 million usd for him. It's over then. the auction is won as nobody else wants to bid higher. Jm is led off of the stage and into the back room to meet with the man who bought him. He'll admit, he's pretty handsome, but that thought shouldn't even be running through his mind right now. The man doesn't ask his name. He knows who he is. They all know who he is. All the man says to Jm is "I'm going to have so much fun with you."

The omega is transported back to the alpha's home and luxurious doesn't even begin to explain how nice his house is. It's basically a mansion surrounded by massive, well kept gardens and fountains. Jm swears he hears a horse whinny in the distance. On his ride there, he's told what he will be used for. Sex and feeding. It scares the fuck out of Jm and he starts to try to get out of the carriage. He does NOT want this. There's no way he's ever going to want this! The alpha just grabs him by the hair and yanks him back. He's have made it a few steps away if the alpha wasn't so quick. Once he's shown his room, which is no more than a bedroll on the ground in the dungeon, he's explained the rules and what the alpha expects of him. He answers with a bitter "yes sir."

He's given an hour or two to "settle in" before the alpha comes back with servants wheeling in a little cart full of food. He hasn't eaten in a while so he is hungry, but only eats until he's full. After refusing a few times, the alpha forces his mouth open and forced the rest of the food into his mouth, leaving Jm with a bloated stomach that renders him too full to move. It's then that the alpha commands him to undress and get into "presenting" position. Jm panics. He's too full to even fucking move and he really doesn't want this alpha inside of him. He pleads, struggles even, but the alpha has had enough of the omega's resisting so he forces him into the position himself. Jm blocks out everything that happens next. All he knows is that he fought as hard as he could the whole way through.

This goes on for months with jm resisting and fighting back each time. It has resulted in him having a few black eyes, bruises littering his body. He hasn't gained any weight because he purges everything he eats when the alpha leaves him alone for the night. In fact, he's lost weight because of it. It results in more beatings. He doesn't want to give in, his will is strong and he keeps telling himself that he'll fight until the day he dies. That is until he finds out that he's carrying a pup. It was bound to happen, he had gone through a heat not too long ago and the alpha was in his "room" non stop. Things changed then as Jm's world came crumbling down. He couldn't continue to fight when there was a pup inside of him. He couldn't bear to have it hurt, despite it being his rapist's spawn. The next time the alpha comes in, Jm just looks up at him and opens his mouth. There's not much light in his eyes and the alpha notices. He asks what's going on and Jm reluctantly tells him. The prince has never seen the alpha's face light up the way it does at the news. Before he gets too ahead of himself though, he asks if Jm is going to be good from now on to which the prince quietly nods. The alpha is pleased with this and unshackles Jm from the wall, leading him out of the dungeons and down one of the many long hallways in the mansion. He's lead to a large bedroom, furnished with all sorts of things from bookshelves to a large tv hanging on the wall with a soft looking couch in front of it. There's a bathroom attached to the room as well. The only thing that Jm can really focus on is the bed.

He immediately starts to tear up, moving toward it. At first the alpha thinks he's going to try to run for it and he starts to reach for Jm's hair to yank him back but when he notices that he's moving toward the bed, he stops, watching as the omega carefully sits on it. It's been months since he's been inside of an actual room like this and all he wants to do is sleep. He asks the alpha if it's okay to which he responds a simple "after I'm finished with you." Of course it would be like that. Jm nods with a sigh and lets everything happen as normal, only this time, when the alpha is finished, he unshackles Jm, taking them in his hand and leaves, locking the door behind him. For the first time in months, Jm doesn't purge and he takes a shower before falling asleep.

Four months down the line, Jm is a different person. He's only been smacked a few times in the face since he's found out he's pregnant. After the last slap two weeks ago, he hasn't acted out since. He does his very best to keep "his alpha" happy, referring to him as master, owner..even my alpha . This has had him rewarded multiple times with things he asks for. Certain foods, games, anything to keep his mind busy when he's alone. He's thought about asking to call his family once, but decided against it as he knew he'd get punished for even suggesting it. Due to all of the stuffing the alpha made him do and since he was no longer purging, Jm had gained and it had definitely begun to show. He only ever wore robes anymore but he could feel how his ass bounced as he walked, could feel his thighs rub together more, there was even a bit of pudge on his stomach that wasn't caused by the pup. It.. It oddly felt.. good?

Jm exhaled and quickly shuffled into the bathroom to look at himself. His stomach wasn't very big yet but there was a rather noticeable bump and as he ran his hands over it, he bit his lip. The moment he turned around to look at his ass in the mirror though, he started to leak slick. It only got worse as he reached back to smack himself, watching his cheeks jiggle. He figured he had some time before the alpha came back so, he leaned back against the sink, groaning as he felt his ass spread against it slightly. He started to stroke himself, whimpering and keeping his noises to a minimum, lest anyone would hear. somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was wrong. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way, but at the moment, he really could not care less. He came harder than he had ever came before after a few moments, panting heavily as he rested back against the sink. He began to wonder if he'd get more praise and rewards if he continues to gain and bare offspring for his alpha. He'd have to possibly ask the next time he came in. The prince cleaned himself and the mess he made up and went to sit on the bed to wait.

When his alpha came in, he found Jm sitting on his knees with his hands on his thighs. He raised a brow at the omega, moving over to stroke his cheek. He asks what's going on and Jm asks him about everything that's on his mind, promising he'll be a very good boy if the alpha agrees to this. His alpha is taken aback, honestly. He agrees almost immediately and explains that this is what he has bought Jm for. The omega nods and immediately crawls closer, opening his mouth for the food that his alpha had brought him. He was going to be the best boy possible from now on.

-----------------------------------------------------------

In my mind I see Jm getting to be about 450-500lbs in this. Still very mobile despite his weight. He essentially gives this alpha quite a few offspring, enjoying it each time. He eventually "falls in love" with this alpha, falls in love with how he is a servant to him. Loves the way the alpha makes him do certain things like crawling on his hands and knees, begging for his food or his alpha's cock sometimes. There's no dumbification really in this either. Jm is just tired of being beaten and he falls in love with.. feeling how big he's gotten and enjoys all of the belly rubs and groping his alpha gives him. He's able to see his pups, though not much. I kind of had an idea of this alpha eventually agreeing to let Jm see his family once as well. Idk.

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 07 (knj)

Chapter 7: Blanket Forts

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- At the hospital, Namjoon tries to make sense of what transpired as Y/N recovers.

word count- 6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, strangers2lovers

warnings- violence, blood, stalker, hospital, extremely fluffy scenes of Joon as a caretaker

a.n- wow i literally wrote this the fastest i’ve written any chapter! i hope you like it. although there is angst there is also a lot of tooth rotting fluff. special s/o to @jungkooksbroski for beta reading this 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

Namjoon held your hand in both of his, his forehead resting upon them, as he waited for you to wake up from surgery, the beep of the heart monitor far too loud and ominous. His hood was on his head as his elbows dug into the ratty blue basketball shorts he had thrown on in a hurry. Even though the doctors had assured him that you were going to be fine, he was still worried. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt at his own house of all places and he felt responsible as he replayed the scene in his head.

You looked so small next to the woman attacking you, it made his blood run cold. She was easily twice your size and the malice her gaze held was frightening. He barely registered her presence, how could she have been in his room the whole time he was home? Why didn’t he put his bags away so he could have caught her before she attacked? Why didn’t he hear someone else was home? He remembered hearing a noise while starting food prep and he assumed it was Moni just messing around. How stupid he had been. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, wasn’t it his responsibility to protect you?

He wasn’t even fast enough to pull her off you. He remembers time slowing down, his arms around the intruder as he tried his best to move her away but she seemed to be on a rampage, stomping on your arm. He remembers the moment her heavy boots almost flattened your arm. It was as if she wore them for the occasion. How did she even get in? He had never been happier to have Jungkook and Jimin around. If it weren’t for their help, he doesn’t even want to imagine how he would have managed. He could still feel the adrenaline in his body, hours later. The guards downstairs had been quick to arrive and he remembers sitting in his underwear trying to wake you up as he watched your arm twisted in an unnatural angle. Your scream still ricocheted through his head and he held your hand tighter, wishing you’d wake up already. The doctor had said it would take a couple of hours but he was on edge.

“But I love you!” the intruder had screamed as she was being dragged off by the guards and Namjoon hated his fame once again. He hated that it affected you, that it hurt you. If he was a nobody, you would’ve never been in this situation. You deserve someone who could hold your hand in public without fear that it might cause a controversy. Someone who you could show off at your events, someone you could travel with, someone who could take you out at normal hours to exhibits and didn’t have to sneak around with at concerts. Someone who screamed his love from rooftops, unlike him who only hid you away.

“Hyung. She’s okay. The doctor said she will be okay.” Jimin spoke softly, his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders as he hugged him back, feeling dizzy. Across from him Jungkook paced in the deluxe private hospital room that their company had reserved for them. The big room had a large bed, couch and television. Its warm wood furnishing and several fake plants were meant to emit a feeling of warmth but regardless of the size or decor, Namjoon felt like he was suffocating.

“She’s in surgery. Surgery. Because of me. Jimin what do I do?” He could feel a lump in his throat as he tried to stay strong. He knew logically that you would be fine, but all he could think was 1%. That’s what the doctor said the chance was of anything going wrong. He knew that millions of people broke their arms and were perfectly fine after a few months but you were his one in a million. The fact that he even met you was so random that he thought it fate. You always managed to do the impossible and in his emotional state that 1% chance was too large. Far too large.

Yoongi had arrived shortly after Jimin messaged the group about the home invasion and he stood next to Jimin and Namjoon, his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as he tried to force him to drink water. The three men tried to reassure Namjoon in vain as he finally let go of Jimin to sit on the couch, his eyes glued to the door, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater as his leg bounced on its own accord.

After almost two hours he saw the door open as you were brought in on a stretcher, still asleep as the nurses moved you to the bed, checking your vitals. Yoongi had to physically restrain Namjoon from running over to you so the workers could do their job, but as soon as they were gone, he was by your side.

You were okay. Nothing went wrong and it felt like a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders as he all but collapsed, holding your hand, his head gingerly resting on your stomach. The boys bid him goodbye soon after making sure he was okay, giving the two of you privacy but ensuring Namjoon that their phones would be on them in case he needed someone with him. No one was getting sleep tonight.

Before Namjoon could let his negativity flood him further, he felt your hand twitch between his and he sat up, looking at your face intently as you finally opened your eyes looking at him groggily.

“Oh thank fuck!” He exclaimed, standing up without letting go of your hand, instead squeezing it tighter as he looked over at you. Your other arm was in a cast, laying over your stomach, both your eyes bruised and swollen underneath, your nose still red as you looked at him with wide eyes. His heart pained as he looked at the evidence of his failings, but for you he smiled, small and not reaching his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” you whispered, your voice hoarse. Namjoon felt his heart race, like it was going to fall out of his chest, panic slowly rising.

“Who…? You don’t know me?”

“Wait… aren’t you famous?” You asked again and he dropped your hand in shock, shaking as he rushed towards the door. Memory loss? That wasn’t a symptom they mentioned. You didn’t have a concussion and it scared him that the doctors missed something, fear making him almost sprint the short the distance.

“What the fuck? Okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to get the doctor!”

Before he could reach the door, he heard you giggle, turning around in disbelief as he heard your next words. “Joon! Stop! I was kidding!”

“You were kidding? You were KIDDING?!” He almost yelled, before checking himself. His mouth hung open for a moment as you watched him walk towards you slowly and standing over you, his brows scrunched into a pained expression on his face. “Red. Red, Y/N. You can’t joke right now, do you know how scared I was?” He whispered, sudden relief turning into exhaustion as he felt his knees almost buckle. He had never felt this overwhelmed before.

“Hey. Joonie, baby. I’m sorry.” You called to him gently, reaching for him, your fingers squeezing reassuringly around his forearm that hung next to you. Hearing him call red made you feel suddenly guilty. Even in your worst fights where you were both screaming at each other, the most either of you had called for was yellow. You had only wanted to lighten his mood, crack a joke to make him smile for real but your post-anaesthesia brain couldn’t come up with anything better.

“You’re sorry?” He looked at you incredulously before his long arms were placed gingerly around your waist as his head reached for the crook of your neck, resting there and he inhaled. You smelt different, like disinfectant and he hated it, feeling his lip quiver as he spoke against your skin in quick, flurried words.. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, baby. Fuck! Why are you even with me? I literally put your life in danger! You should break up with me! You’re gonna have a gigantic scar and like metal inside you forever! You deserve so much -”

“Oh man! A scar? Who’s gonna marry me now?” You interrupted his rant and tried to make your voice lighter, wanting to ease his worries, assure him that you were back to normal. You looked at your useless right arm, wishing you could hug him but settled for slowly running your fingers through his hair with your left to calm him down.

“I’ll marry you. I’ll do it right now!” He moved his head away from your neck, leaning his weight on his hands that now rested next to you on the bed, looking at you intensely. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and you felt your heart break. You cupped his face, your thumb stroking his cheek as you tried to comfort him.

“Come here. Lie down.” You winced a little as you scooted to the side despite his protests, making room for him. He reluctantly laid down, his head in the crook of your arm and his feet dangling off the end of the bed. You slowly caressed his shoulder and felt him relax as he nuzzled the side of your chest, his arm draping over your hips carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one that’s hurt.” His voice was small, muffled against you as his thumb traced meaningless patterns against you where it lay.

“Baby you literally asked me to break up with you and marry you in the same breath - you are not fine.” You spoke softly, your hand squeezing his shoulder as he took a shuddering breath. You looked at the dim tv that had the hospital’s menu channel on, displaying the time, 3:21 am. He argued not to worry about him, but you couldn’t help it. He had never looked more exhausted in your presence - even after twelve hours of dance practice on three hours of sleep, he didn’t look this drained. Your fingers moved upwards lightly scraping his scalp, his arm tightening around you, as you spoke. “I love you, you know that right?”

He sniffled, the hospital gown getting damp as he told you about his earlier worries. You hushed him, comforting him with words and coaxing him to sleep. His hand wrapped around the index finger poking out of your cast as he fell asleep after a while, his snores music to your ears. No matter what he believed, you still felt safe with him next to you.

———————————-

You looked at the soft light of dawn as it flows through the window, trying not to move as your arm throbbed in the cast. In the few hours since he fell asleep, Namjoon’s head had moved, now resting on your chest as his arm was draped over your hips, but he looked so peaceful that you dared not wake him up. You barely slept, your pain medication wearing off much too quickly. You had never broken a bone before, and as you thought about how dumb your fifth grade self was for wanting a cast, you wished your boyfriend would wake up at his own accord. You desperately needed to call the nurse for some paracetamol, but you grit your teeth and bore it. You knew you were being stupid and Namjoon would be genuinely pissed if he knew, but looking at his mouth hanging open as he drooled over you made you smile at the endearing picture infront of you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), soon a nurse walked in for his morning rounds, waking up a groggy Namjoon who startled, almost falling off the bed, making you hiss as he accidentally held on too hard to your side to keep balance. He stood up, running his hands over his face in order to wake up properly while the nurse did the checkup, providing you with the pain killers you request. Once he leaves, Namjoon moves back to you, putting his arm under your head as this time you nuzzle into his chest. You talked about nothing as the drugs finally took effect, helping you doze off. Namjoon kissed the top of your head as you dropped off mid sentence, a smile on his face because you were alright, but a heaviness in his heart as he looked at the bruises on your face, dark blue and almost black.

———————————-

“Shh… Guys come on. Let her rest!”

Namjoon’s theatrical whisper is the first thing you hear when you wake up again. Your eyes open to your room filled with all your friends. The room had seemed extremely large the last time you were awake but now it seemed tiny. Jiyoung was sitting on the couch typing on her phone with a frown, an Apeach plush on her lap, next to her Siwon was talking animatedly with a tired looking Jungkook munching on some chips. The coffee table in front of them was full of snacks, gifts, and flowers. Seokjin, Yoongi and Jimin were talking about something hushed as they stood near the television, serious looks on their faces. Hoseok was bent over the humidifier in the corner which seemed turned off, messing with the controls and grumbling to himself. Harry sat in the chair next to the bed, talking to Namjoon with Jen standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. Namjoon sat on the bed near your legs, his hand on your calf, and Taehyung sat next to him clinging on his waist. Needless to say, it warmed your heart to see all the people you loved here. Maybe getting injured wasn’t that bad.

You winced as you moved up the bed to get more comfortable and suddenly all the attention was on you, the room turning into a cacophony of “How are you feeling?”s and “Are you okay?”s. Everyone was now crowded around the bed, looking at you with worry, Seokjin even handing you the RJ plush he’d brought along with him stating its healing powers. It was odd to be coddled by such a large group. Overwhelming, but in the best way.

“I’m fine guys. It’s just a broken arm.” You tried to diffuse the worries.

“You should look at your face dude.” Siwon stated, causing Namjoon to sigh, annoyed, and you to ask for a mirror. Oof you looked worse than you felt. By the bruises on your face it was a wonder how your nose wasn’t broken. Sheepishly you tried to explain to the group that it wasn’t that bad, but your friends were not convinced.

Soon the conversation turned from worries about you to who the attacker was in the first place. While you and Namjoon were in the hospital, Jungkook and Jimin had been to the police to give in-depth statements. Turns out Namjoon had a stalker - someone the company and security had been keeping an eye on for months, but who seemed to have fallen off the map 6 weeks ago. Apparently the same one who had caused the dates at the beginning of your relationship to always be under the watchful eye of his security team. No one knows how she had managed to break into the dorms but apparently she had been hiding out in his room for a week, his closet was full of tins of food she had consumed during her stay. It was surreal to hear that someone had been in the house and no one had noticed. It made sense to an extent - no one had been actively living in the dorms for a few weeks, especially not Namjoon so his room was never opened. The boys seemed extra distressed about it, and even thought themselves guilty. Namjoon’s words from last night echoed in your head. He put himself at fault, when really it was this woman’s fault.

No one knew what her plan was when Namjoon returned, and you didn’t want to find out. It might seem odd but you were glad that you were there to protect him in a sense. Apparently seeing you had started such a rage in her that she refused to talk further than the death threats she spewed against you. She was in jail and you hoped she stayed there for a long time.

“The police haven’t taken into account your assault. You should file a report.” Hoseok spoke for the first time, his face hardened. The room seemed in agreement, but you hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” you started, only for Namjoon, who was now seated next to you on the bed with his arm around you, to counter but you continued. “I’m just saying. Police records are public and if someone looks into this person who was charged with stalking Joon the same night as attacking me, they might put two and two together and I don’t want that to reflect on him or any of you guys.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Y/N?” It was Yoongi who spoke, clearly irritated and impatient. “Who cares about that? She attacked you, she deserves to be in jail.” His voice was quiet, but the frustration in his tone was not lost.

“She’s already in jail though… It’s not gonna make a difference.”

“Noona… I know it’s not our decision but you didn’t see yourself when she was attacking you.” Jungkook’s voice wavered as he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. “She deserves to pay for what she did…”

“Guys… I know you want the best for me, but it’s too risky… Even you all being here right now is too risky!” It was time for your voice to waver as you suddenly realized the impact of having all of them in the room. All it took was one shitty quality photo from a nurse’s Samsung to ruin their image. You didn’t know how you’d be able to handle it if you were responsible for their first big scandal.

“Okay. I’m going to stop you right there. This is a private place we always use. This is not a risk.” Seokjin spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if trying to explain the situation to a five year old. He didn’t do it in a condescending manner, more to make you understand. “Please stop worrying about us. Our company has stopped way bigger scandals from surfacing. Namjoon, can you please make her understand?”

Namjoon sighed loudly next to you, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer. It felt comforting, but you still felt slightly cornered. You just couldn’t see the logic in what they were saying. The attacker’s jail time would probably not change much with an assault added, at least you didn’t think so - so why was this a big deal.

“It’s her choice, hyung. I’m not going to force her to press charges if she doesn’t want to.” Namjoon looked steely at his member, before turning to you and softening. “But Y/N, I really do want you to make that decision without thinking of me or the rest of us. Can you do that?”

“No. Sorry. I can’t.” You were adamant and now you were starting to get annoyed. Namjoon was right - it was your choice - and it felt nice to have him on your side, at least partially, through this argument, but it didn’t make sense not to make it an isolated discussion. “You’re part of the situation and I can’t just make the decision without adding you to it. I’m not pressing charges.”

You heard a loud snort from Yoongi. “Why are you being an idiot?” He spoke to which Hoseok vocally agreed, causing you to almost yell your explanation in exasperation, before Harry broke the argument asking everyone to take a break and to lay off you.

There was thick tension in the room and it seemed to have sapped the air out of you. You felt uneasy, like no matter how deeply you inhaled you were breathless. You felt claustrophobic suddenly, squeezing Namjoon’s thigh, trying to control your heartbeat. Namjoon saw the distress on your face, immediately requesting everyone to move outside. It didn’t take them long to leave and somehow that helped you feel calmer.

When the room was empty, Namjoon looked at you. Turning to him, you buried your face in his chest, squishing the white alpaca between you and moving your injured arm on his stomach to hug him, despite the sharp pain that made you hiss. Breathing in his scent, somehow made the stress of last night catch up to and you cried. Namjoon held your head gently to his chest as you tangled your legs in his, wanting to almost disappear into him. You didn’t know why you were suddenly crying, but you couldn’t help it - it was like a dam broke, like you were leaking, your emotions cascading out of you onto Namjoon’s sweater. You couldn’t control your sobs and you wondered how loud you were being.

Namjoon felt his heart break as he held you. He had only seen you cry like this once -  the night he asked you to be his girlfriend - and it pained him that he was partially responsible for your tears today. He didn’t know what to do other than whisper “you’re safe now” repeatedly against your hair as you clung to him clumsily. He shouldn’t have let everyone visit so soon. He should’ve thought ahead. Of course you were overwhelmed, you were traumatized. He was an idiot.

When you calmed down enough to look at him, he wiped your tears gently, barely even touching your skin, and handed you some water from the bedside table. He tried to assure you the best he could, interrupted intermittently by nurses and discharge forms. He didn’t bring up pressing charges again and you were grateful to him for that.

He helped you change into clothes Siwon had picked up for you, insisting you take the wheelchair to the car despite your protests (“My arm’s broken, not my leg Joonie!”). Before you entered your apartment Namjoon asked his security team to do a sweep. You would never admit it to him but having the place checked out before you entered made you extremely relieved. You knew it was irrational to think you’d have another stalker waiting for you but it genuinely made you feel lighter, your anxiety ebbing away.

He spent the next few hours quietly worrying about little things, changing the code to your door, checking every lock, making you tea, and even cleaning your place to ensure you had “optimum comfort”, while forcing you to stay in bed regardless of your protests. After a while you couldn’t take him running around and murmuring to himself, especially when he decided to order from six restaurants for dinner. Walking into the kitchen where he obsessively cleaned a single spot on the countertop, you pulled him away.

“Joonie. Stop.” you gently touched his hand, startling him anyways as he looked at you in alarm.

“Oh. Do you need anything? Tell me, I’ll get it. Water? Bathroom?” He bent down slightly to look you in the eyes, searching your face for any discomfort.

“Namjoon, I have a broken arm, I’m not an invalid.” You rolled your eyes. It was sweet that he was this concerned but you seriously needed him to stop running around worried.

“Wait, you said Namjoon. Are you mad at me?” He looked alarmed, his eyes wide. Now that you looked at him closely, he didn’t seem to be doing too well either. His eyes seemed sunken behind his glasses, the crease between his eyebrow deep, and his stubble growing out more than you’d ever seen. You wondered if he got much sleep after you dozed off this morning. He even seemed skinnier somehow, though you chalk that up to your imagination.

“No baby I’m not mad at you. Just stop… obsessing. I’m fine. I swear.” You cupped his face with your working hand, thumb circling his cheekbones in an effort to relax him. He leaned in closing his eyes.

“Oh… oh. I just want to show you I love you. You know like you do…” He mumbled in a slight pout, averting your gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“You always take care of me when I’m down. I want to take care of you.” You felt your heart glow in your chest. Sometimes you forget how much you love this man, but sometimes he says things that, for a lack of a better analogy, punch you in the face, reminding you why you love him. You wrap your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest, as he tentatively puts his arm around your head.

“You don’t need to deep clean my kitchen to take care of me babe. Just sit next to me. Let’s watch a movie.” You lean away from his chest to tell him, trying to tug his unmovable body towards the living room.

“Are you sure? I’m almost done. Just this one stain…” He lets go of you to grab the wipe again, only for you to pull at his hand.

“Joon. Leave it.” You say sternly, holding his hand as you lean up. “Kiss me.”

“What? No. You’re hurt.” He moves back and you have to convince your irrational feelings that he wasn’t rejecting you, he was worried about you.

“If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

“No you won’t. I know you.”

“Joonie!” you whine and he relents, although it’s not a kiss you were hoping for. He settles for a series of small pecks against your lips, so light that you barely felt him. Sure even puckering your lips was slightly painful but you were annoyed, rolling your eyes at his lame attempt. And this was the man who had spanked you so hard once that you couldn’t sit without wincing for two days. The audacity.

Before you could protest he walked with you to the living room and turned on Netflix. Picking a brainless comedy, you forced him to lie down on your lap and even before the title had come up he was asleep.

———————————-

“What wrong baby?” Namjoon came from the studio to find you lying on the ground still dressed in your pajamas with half your hair tied lopsidedly as you whined at seemingly no one, ignoring Moni as he licked your face. If he wasn’t worried that you somehow fell, he would find the sight of you throwing a tantrum like a toddler adorable.

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, but Namjoon hadn’t seen you looking this dejected before. You had been completely normal on Sunday, even agreeing to the guys coming over for dinner so they could apologize for their behaviour at the hospital. You had riffed like usual, making fun of Jin and Yoongi as they cooked even though it seemed like you itched to get in the kitchen and help, even getting especially giddy as your childhood dream of getting a cast signed by your friends was fulfilled. The next two days, despite everyone’s insistence you had returned to work, working from home. Fortunately Harry and Siwon had rescheduled or taken over all your client meetings to lighten your load. Namjoon had returned to work too but made sure to text you throughout the day and had spent every night with you, regardless of your protests of being an “independent woman that needs no man”.

“I hate this! I’m so frustrated! I feel useless and gross!” you whined as you thrash around on the floor comically with the biggest pout he had ever seen you sport. Dropping his bag near the door and trying not to chuckle at your cute behaviour, Namjoon walked over to you kneeling next to you.

“Aww baby come here” He opened his arms invitingly as you sat up, only for you to sit crossed leg in front of him to begin your rant. Moni moves between your legs and you scratch his head absent-mindedly.

“No! I can’t attend any meetings till my face doesn’t look like fight club, I can’t shower for two more days, I can’t cook because of this dumbass arm, I can’t even tie my hair! TIE MY HAIR, JOON. I’M UGLY, USELESS AND DISGUSTING. Please leave me in my misery.”

Your face turned red as you continued listing minor inconveniences that your broken arm bestowed upon you as Namjoon made his way behind you and put his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder in an effort to calm you down. Instantly you relax, huffing as you leaned into his chest. Today has been tough for you. You had spent two hours on a call relaying your game plan for a potential client to Harry and walking him through his nerves about the meeting, which drained you mentally. Your laptop had restarted two times without warning, your roomba had gotten stuck under the couch and you couldn’t reach for it, you had almost fallen in the toilet because the seat was up, you ran out of coffee, and to top it all off it took you ages to write anything with your left hand alone. You felt miserable and dejected.

“You’re beautiful. My slightly stir-crazy, extremely capable, beautiful girlfriend.” Namjoon kissed your cheek as you turned your head to scowl at him, not buying his flattery. He traced your features gently. He wasn’t lying, even with your face patchy with your yellowing bruise and a scab on your lip, you were beautiful to him and he felt his heart swell the longer he looked at your face. He still had trouble believing that you were with him.

“You’re only saying that cause you love me.” You whisper softly as you avert his gaze before starting to whine again as you adjusted your sling. “Ugh I just want to eat McDonald’s and die.”

“Not going to let you die, but let’s get nuggets.”

———————————-

“Baby I got us Chinese!” Namjoon called out as he walked in your home, hands full of takeout. Hearing no answer he called out again to hear your voice coming from the bedroom.

“Joonie! Crawl under here!” He saw you emerge clumsily from the floor, cast pulled close to your chest, as he entered the room where you had piled the blankets between the edge of the bed and the chairs that you had brought near it. “I made us a fort!”

Your giggles made his heart sing as he grinned and crawled under the fort, taking care not to knock it down. You had brought the lamp from the side table under as well, lighting the small space with a soft glow. He could barely sit up, his height making it difficult not to knock down your creation so he opted for laying down, his head on your thigh as you played with his hair. He sighed in content. It felt somewhat meditative sitting in silence with you under the many sheets, the pile of soft pillows in the corner adding extra coziness.

Soon you’re laying side by side, your fingers intertwined as you bounced your hands against each other. You were both looking at the makeshift comforter ceiling, soft smiles on your faces.

“Why the sudden fort?” Namjoon asks after a while, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of comfort you both were under.

“I don’t know… It’s stupid.” He turns on his side to face you, cupping your face to make you look at him. It’s the look he always gives you whenever you doubt yourself. A look that says I’m here for you, I’ll never judge you. “I used to build these when I was a kid and missed my mom… I guess I’m feeling kind of homesick. I know it’s dumb.” You chuckle a little at how childish your comments seemed. You were almost thirty and talking about missing your mom.

Namjoon hadn’t thought of this before - the fact that Seoul wasn’t truly your home. Sure you had introduced your mom to him over Skype a few times but he thought about how much he missed Seoul when on tour, did you miss Toronto that way too? You always seemed so content in Seoul, so content with your friends that he never thought about how your family wasn’t there.

“We can go visit home if you want?” He kisses your lips chastely as he continues, his nose nuzzling yours. “I can take a few days off. I’d like to meet your mom in person.”

“We don’t have to. I’m just being a baby.” You laughed as you moved closer and he put his arm under your head to pull you into his chest. You knew this bout was homesickness was temporary, but Namjoon’s words made your heart glow in your chest. It had been two weeks since your attack and although Namjoon had been a rock, helping you with everything from ensuring that you ate to shaving your under arms, you were nostalgic about when you were sick during high school and your mom would take the day off work to take you on a drive, buying you ice cream and snacks that definitely did not help your illness. His idea wasn’t a bad one but with how your injury had messed up your work schedule, you didn’t think you could take time off for a while, and you told him as much. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again after that, dinner forgotten on the kitchen counter, as you laid under the blankets soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

Caressing your hip slowly where your shirt ended, Namjoon cleared his throat slightly, breaking the spell before he spoke in another whisper. “I could be your home… if you want.”

Moving your head from his chest you look up to find him gazing at you with a soft smile as he turns on his side again. You follow suit, the fingers of your uninjured hand tracing his chest where it stuck between the two of you. Your heart beat faster as you slowly comprehended what he meant, but you still needed him to clarify. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Namjoon was nervous - more nervous than he had been on your first date, more nervous than he had been when he asked you to be his girlfriend, more nervous than he had been after your first fight. The last two weeks had been some of his favourite with you, regardless of the circumstances that landed him there. He liked coming home to you every night, arguing over what to have for dinner, waking up each morning with his arms around you. You technically didn’t need him around anymore, your schedule was back to normal and you were more than used to navigating with one hand, but he didn’t want to go back to seeing you once or twice a week. How could he do that when he could see you everyday? The domesticity of your morning routines of coffee and reading the news together that had once scared him, were things he craved now. He even loved your playlist of the week startling him awake.

Your prolonged silence made his heart race as he bit his lip in anticipation. Before he could take back his question with a joke, you kissed him. Your lips molded around his tenderly as you took his lower lip between yours, relishing his strawberry lip balm. You break the kiss to whisper a soft yes, barely audible over the sound of your heart in your ears, and Namjoon couldn’t help breaking into a fit of giggles, his forehead against yours as he pulled you closer. He tried to control his reaction but the happiness flowing through him made him feel like he was floating.

“And they were roommates!” You made the dated reference as you giggled along with him.

“You are such a dork. I love you.” He said as he brought his lips back on yours.

“Yeah, your dork!”

“All mine.” He smiled, his eyes disappearing as his cheeks hurt from the joy he felt.

–

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[autisticri0t]

I deeply apologise that I only just saw this but I figured I’ll bring it up and give people a New Year’s resolution to stop using that fucking thing.

I also want to state before I get any accusations - I’m not against anyone who is communist. I’m against people using the hammer and sickle as a ‘anti fascist’ symbol. Im Jewish (conservodox) myself with family members who lived in Russia previously. None are alive and therefore I cannot ask them personally but I did all my research and cited my sources within this post. If you have any questions, dm me or leave them in the comments - reblogs aren’t my strong suit and I will not see your answer immediately.

It’s also important to note that sources or quotes I may mention will reference ‘Zionists’. Please note that it’s usually a thinly disguised term for Jewish people in this case. My tip when identifying it goes as follows - replace Zionist or whatever the term is with Jew and listen to how it sounds.

My TLDR of this post goes as follows:

- almost every soviet Russian leader caused some form of torment to the Jews.

- the Soviet Union hardly benefitted to the Jews in any way and committed horrific acts against the Jews in the name of communism.

- they sided with the fucking nazis and denied everyone that genocide took place on Russian soil. I don’t know what to tell you.

Okay here are the actual reasons, with a hell load of history and atrocities along the way.

That being said, do not read if you’re triggered by this content. This took me three days to write and it was not easy. There’s a lot of terrible things that happened here, but I think it’s important to mention the blood that lies on the blades of the sickle and the head of the hammer. The first part especially has stories that I don’t wish to happen upon my worst enemies.

1: they quite literally sided with the nazis. You know. Hitler and all that? The people you’re all against? That guy? They committed horrific atrocities on soviet Russian soil?

Odessa massacre? Stalag 325?

In the book Holocaust by Bullets - penned by Father Patrick Desbois - he found out that at least 1.5 million Jews were murdered in the soviet/nazi occupation in Eastern Europe. Father Desbois’ grandfather was a prisoner of war in Stalag 325, but rarely discussed it. His only commentary went as followed (quoted directly from Father Desbois)

And then one day, one summer morning, sitting beside him in the little gray truck, I pushed him, pushed him so much that he told me about his three escape attempts. I was seven years old. He had tried to escape from the camp twice and failed, but on his third attempt his fellow-inmates helped him by stomping their clogs on the ground, making a racket to create a diversion while he jumped into a thicket. It was successful. He made it to the train station of Strasbourg, in Alsace, a region of France which had been annexed as part of Germany. He went to buy a ticket to return to his wife and son in Chalon-sur-Saône. He asked for a ticket in German. The lady behind the counter answered him in French. My grandfather paused for a moment: "In that instant I knew I had failed. She was going to report me! I didn't even make it to the train. The Gestapo arrested me. Destination Rawa-Ruska." Then my grandfather fell silent. And afterwards . . . ? There was no afterwards. This silence, from a man usually so cheerful, was charged with meaning. The silence had a name: Rawa-Ruska.

(…)

Just once, he uttered these words: "For us, the camp was difficult; there was nothing to eat, we had no water, we ate grass, dandelions. But it was worse for the others!" That sentence was engraved in my consciousness as a child for all time. I realized that he couldn't say any more about it. But who were the others?

(Page 21-22)

This silence prompted the priest to find out what had happened. He met with the deputy mayor of Rawa Ruska who arranged for 100 people who witnessed this massacre to tell their stories. Jews would shot and thrown into pits they were forced to dig. Some would be thrown in alive and suffocated that way. The pits would move as Jews suffocated to death. After every testimony relating to the pits, the witnesses recounted the same thing: the earth moved for three days. I read his book - Holocaust by Bullets - where he met with people who gave horrific testimonies.

"Where we come from the Nazis machine-gun the Jews but in the west they kill them in camps." - Polina Pavlona Katsenko, page 12. She had joined the red army and had found Auschwitz.

At the edge of the ditch the earth had been packed into a makeshift ladder. The Jews undressed, while the guards beat them. Completely naked, family after family, fathers, mothers, and children went calmly down the steps and lay face down on top of the bodies of those who had just been shot. A man called Humpel, a German policeman, advanced, upright, walking on the dead bodies, pistol in hand, and murdered each Jew, one after the other, with a bullet in the back of the neck. Less than 10 meters away, the two sisters saw everything. Before starting his work that morning, Humpel had put on a white coat like a doctor's smock, and then had gone down into the ditch. Luba thinks he wanted to protect his uniform. At regular intervals, he stopped shooting, climbed out of the pit, took a break, drank a small glass of liquor, and went back into the ditch. Naked, another Jewish family climbed down into the ditch and lay face down. The massacre lasted one full day. Humpel killed all the Jews in the village, single-handed. - the testimony of Vira and Luba, the 460th eye witness account of the massacre of Ukrainian Jews. Page 13-15

On the other side of the barricade, they caught sight of little Dora. She was naked. In the icy cold, she was begging the Germans to give her back her coat: "Give me my jacket, I'll give you my shoes in exchange!" But the Germans listened to no one's requests. Dora was shot. (Page 217)

This is all I felt able to share.

All of these testimonies were only revealed in the 2000s - over 60 years after the massacre of 1.5 million jews in the Soviet Union.

After World War Two ended, the Soviet Union often denied the horrific actions that took place on their land.

Oh and don’t forget how the Soviets kept ignoring it and quite literally disbanded a Jewish organisation they made over this.

But don’t worry, I’ll get there soon ;)

2: “but that was Stalin! That does not represent Lenin’s views!”

Okay, valid point. They were two different people. Let’s check Lenin’s views about Jewish people then shall we?

In March 1919, Lenin delivered a speech about “Anti-Jewish pogroms.” During this speech he essentially said “hey guys can we stop killing Jewish people? They did nothing to us and had been oppressed for god knows how long let’s just leave them alone okay?”

A nobel speech which summarises how capitalism breaks us apart by creating hatred against different groups and turning us against each other-

What’s that? Sorry I forgot to mention: a few months later all Jewish properties were seized by the soviet government in their scheme to basically say to others religions “hey fuck your religion”. This was an attempt to assimilate religious people. Many Jewish people would be familiar with this as it’s so common we made a festival about it one time - idk if you’ve heard of it, it’s called Chanukah. Look it up, it’s more than just funky candles and donuts and fried potatoes.

Kehilahs (basically Jewish community places) were shut down.

But sure, Lenin and the soviet government were totally supportive of Jewish people and their faith. Whatever helps you guys sleep at night.

3: I was going to leave out Stalin since I figured people may know of his atrocities by now. Then I remembered of a conversation I had with someone who very seriously told me that Stalin was a good leader despite his well documented anti semitism and dictator leadership. So no, he’s not getting away with shit here.

So Stalin was a pretty hardcore anti-semite but I’ll mainly focus on after world war 2 since we all know the atrocities he committed during that time. He started a campaign that went by various names but namely the anti cosmopolitan campaign.

This namely happened due to an organisation called Jewish Anti Fascist Community. They were established by Stalin after Hitler’s totally shocking betrayal against Russia and were tasked with assisting the Soviets by telling everyone else that was definitely no Anti Semitism in the Soviet Union (unless we ignore the details mentioned earlier).

After the war they basically started archiving every that happened to the Jews in Eastern Europe, including the Holocaust. Two soviet men of the group published a book (The Black Book of Soviet Jewry - all hail the internet archive!) in collaboration with the JAC with 500 pages worth of manuscripts and eyewitness of the atrocities of the Holocaust. Which conveniently mentioned a lot of the atrocities Russia committed while they were allies with Germany.

I won’t go too far into it because I’m going down a completely different rabbit hole but just know Stalin wasn’t really fond of the JAC at this point because of their disagreements with the soviets.

He then proceeded to start with an ‘anti cosmopolitan campaign’ (read: anybody who was Jewish was fucked)

Mysteriously two years later, the Chairman of the JAC - Solomon Mikhoels, also a Yiddish actor - was found dead on a narrow road with his friend Vladimir Golubov-Potapov (theatre critic). It was a tragic death that definitely was not an assassination organised by the Soviet government. A soviet newspaper definitely did not admit that they killed him.

Though not officially mentioned, other Jews with connections to the JAC were also arrested or killed. They were:

- Der Nister, a Yiddish writer (arrested in 1949, died in a labour camp a year later)

- Yitzhak Nusinov, a literary critic (arrested and died in prison in 1950)

- Shmuel Persov and Miriam Zheleznova, both journalists (shot and killed in 1950)

In 1952, Stalin committed his final act upon the Jewish people - The Night Of The Murdered Poets. This was when fifteen soviet Jews were put into trial and executed within the Lubyanka prison in Moscow. Only two survived. They were:

- Benjamin Zuskin (1899 - 1952) - an actor who did a lot of Jewish theatre and held the title of People’s Artist of the RSFSR. He had been acting for over 30 years and had performed with Solomon Mikhoels (remember him?). Most of his children had been killed in the Kovo Ghetto. He had been arrested in hospital in 148 while being treated for depression and had been put to sleep (it was a way of treating depression just go with it). He woke up to find himself in prison, where he remained until 1952 - when he was murdered.

- Joseph Yuzefovich (1890 - 1952) - a researcher for the institute of history, soviet academy of sciences and a trade union leader. He and the other members were tortured so badly, he said to court that he was ready to confess that he was the pope’s nephew. He was one of two who did not confess to his crimes. Joseph was murdered in 1952.

- Solomon Lozovsky (1878 - 1952) - a prominent communist and Bolshevik revolutionary who found himself Chairman of the trade union and later general secretary of the red international labour unions. After a conversation between Mikhoels in 1944 about where to establish a Jewish homeland in Russia, Stalin went ‘ah ha! Anti soviet activity!’ And had Lozovsky arrested and tortured in 1949. He defended himself so hard the judge basically had to take a breather for a week - the only time this happened in a political trial during Stalin’s ruling of Russia. He was murdered in 1952.

- Boris Shimliovich (1892 - 1952) - a prominent revolutionary who was involved in the Russian civil war and later the JAC. He was also a medical director in the Botkin Clinical Hospital. He was arrested in 1949, his injuries so severe he was carried to court in a stretcher. He was one of two members to not confess to any crimes. Boris was murdered in 1952.

- Leon Talmy/Talmi (1893 - 1952) - translator and journalist and a former communist party USA member. He was born in what is now Belarus and became a member of the Zionist socialist party. He would move to the US with his parents where he would become a secretary for the newspaper Unzer Vort. After the February revolution in Russia, Talmy moved there and worked for more newspapers and became part of the communist party in Russia. He did various Yiddish translations during this time and would later join the JAC. He was arrested in 1949 and murdered in 1952. (shout out to the congress for Jewish culture for this info)

- Ilya Vatenberg (1887 - 1952) translator and editor of the JAC newspaper, labour Zionist leader in Austria and US. After studying law and running a law firm until 1914, Ilya moved to Vienna until 1920, at which point he moved to America. There he became a member of the Zionist socialists party Poale Zion. He then met his wife Chaika and they would move to Russia together. He would work as a censor for the publishing house of foreign literature and later an official for JAC. He would also write article for their newspaper. He was arrested in 1949 with Chaika and was murdered in 1952.

- Chaika Valenverg-Ostrovskaya (1901 - 1952) - a translator for the JAC and the wife of Ilya. Due to her various language skills in English and Yiddish (after living in America for ten years), she would work as a typist for the association of scientists and later the same publishing house Ilya worked. She would then work in the JAC as a typist and translator, therefore not often involved in the political affairs. However, she was arrested in 1949 and murdered in 1952.

- Emilia Teumin (1905 - 1952) - an editor for a variety of papers as well as the soviet information bureau. Her father was a member of the communist party and after Germany attacked Russia, Emilia became a translator for the Soviet form office. She would later join the JAC and had compiled documents about nazi persecution in the Soviet Union. As a result, she was arrested in 1949 and was murdered in 1952.

- Lieb Kvitko (1890 - 1952) - a well known Yiddish children’s author and poet who wrote for the JAC’s newspaper and a literary magazine called The Heymland. He was murdered in 1952.

- Dovid Hofshteyn (1889 - 1952) - a Yiddish poet who often worked to teach Jewish boys who had been orphaned form the pogroms. He would protest the banning of Hebrew, which caused him to move around countries for various times. In 1926, he returned to continue his work and became a member of the communist party. Shortly after the state of Israel was established, he had been arrested and was murdered in 1952.

- Peretz Markish (1895 - 1952) - a Russian Yiddish poet who wrote many poems and became the co founder of the soviet school of writers. He would awarded the order of Lenin in 1939. He would join the communist party and worked with the JAC. He was arrested in 1949 and murdered in 1952. He left behind two sons, Shimon and David, and his wife Esther. They fought to keep his memory alive.

- Itzik Feffer (1900 - 1952) - a Yiddish poet who fought for the red army and was in prison for a bit before being released by armed workers. He started to edit literary and art magazines and was a member of the communist party. His poems often involved themes of socialism and were published frequently. He would write the poem The Shadows of the Warsaw Ghetto - in memory of the 750 Jews involved in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. He also worked with the JAC’s newspaper but also the NKVD. Despite the fact that everyone blatantly knew, honey didn’t made much since they mostly did activities in the name of Soviet Russia (before they started archiving the actions of Soviet Russia during the Holocaust). Shortly after Mikhoel’s assassination, Feffer was arrested and accused of treason. Due to his involvement with touring the west with Mikhoels, many attempted to save him such as Paul Robeson and Albert Einstein. Paul even met Feffer in prison and Feffer warned him of his imminent death. Paul would publicly tribute Feffer and would sing Zog Nig Keynmol - popular Yiddish anthem of Holocaust survivors - and wrote to defend him. Despite these efforts, Feffer was murdered in 1952 and left behind his only daughter.

- David Bergelson (1884 - 1952) - a Yiddish writer who went through pogrom after pogrom in his youth. Despite this, his family were wealthy and tutored in in Russian, English and Yiddish. After the first failed revolution, he became a writer and wrote for various publications as well as writing his own novels, essays and short stories. He was also heavily involved in the JAC. He was murdered in 1952 . he left behind Lev Bergelson - his only child. His last words were quoted as being “Earth, oh earth, do not cover my blood!”

- Solomon Bregman (1885-1953) - a writer who collected materials for the infamous Black Book). He was arrested in 1948, survived his injuries in 1952 but fell into a coma while in prison and died in jail.

- Lina Stern (1878 - 1968) - a biochemist and physiologist for the Soviet and a pioneer in the blood brain barrier. She already found it difficult to get into her academic field due to her Judaism and had to study abroad in Switzerland as a result. I won’t pretend to have a clue what she did because I am not a scientist, but essentially she made a lot of mind blowing progress of the blood brain barrier and became incredibly well known as a result. She also won the Stalin prize and was the first female member of the academy of sciences. By 1939, the Russians allied with nazi Germany, which Stern did not like and joined with the JAC during that time. As a result, she was arrested. However unlike the other members, she ended up being given a prison sentence of three years and a five year exile. However, this ended early after Stain’s death. From there, she was the head of the department of physiology at Biophysics Institute until 1968. This made Lisa Stern the only survivor.

I’m aware this feels like a different road, but I feel the need to mention everyone’s backstories because when we argue over this matter, we forget real Jewish people lived in soviet Russia. They fought through hell and back for a way to make their lives and everyone else’s lives better in whatever way they could - through art, literature, science, politics. And whatever else they could’ve done was crushed by one man - in the name of soviet Russia and communism.

Yet people still choose to defend the hammer and sickle that represents the people who murdered thirteen Jews.

“When one’s thoughts turn to the martyrs of August 12, the painful question asked by the poet Leib Opeskin of Vilna arises: “Can one forget, may one forget?

Forget Mikhoels, Bergelson, Markish, Feffer, Hofshtein, Kvitko, Zuskin, Solomon Lozovsky, Boris Shimelevich, forget all of our own who during World War II were the members of the Jewish Anti-Fascist Committee in Moscow? Can we forget Leon Talmy who was the New York secretary of the ICOR (Association for Jewish Colonization in the Soviet Union), can we forget our own Morning Freiheit staff member Elyeh Wattenberg and his wife, Chaikeh Ostrovsky, who all left here in the 1930s to build a new life in the Soviet Union?

And, indeed, so much was built there then! When one speaks of the Yiddish culture, this ought not be forgotten. This underscores even more the scope of the tragedy that occurred, the great crime that was committed against the Jewish people and against socialism itself.” - Paul Novick, The Anti-Zionist Campaign in the USSR

During this time, Stalin had accused various Jewish doctors of trying to assassinate soviet leaders - this became known as the doctors plot. There has been accusations previously against Jewish doctors, notably Dr Yakov Etinger. He had been accused of mistreatment of Andrei Zhdanov (died in 1948 of heart disease, possibly intentional misdiagnosis) and Alexander Shscherbakov (died in 1945 of heart failure caused by drinking and obesity). Etinger died in prison in 1951 after being brutally tortured during his interrogation.

When accusations about Etinger were brought to MGB minister Viktor Abakumov by Mikhail Ryumin (after torturing Etinger), Abakumov did not believe them. Ryumin then wrote to Stalin and accused Abakumov of killing Etinger to hide a conspiracy of killing soviet leaders. Abakumov was arrested and tortured before being executed in 1954 for fabricating the Leningrad affair.

What became known as the Killer Doctors Case then was brought up in 1952 after a letter was dug up where Lydia Timashuk wrote that Zhdanov had suffered a heart attack but it was misdiagnosed and the doctors covered up the mistake. The doctors who treated him however were Russian so Jewish doctors Etinger supposedly mentioned were arrested. Head of security Nikolai Vlasik was fired and later arrested for ignoring the letter.

9 doctors (six of which were jewish) were accused and were initially going to be charged. However Stalin’s death came and the charges were quickly dismissed. After this, it was revealed Stalin had planned to send Jewish people into camps and possibly deport them. But due to his sudden death, Stalin never got to do this.

And good fucking riddance. All he did was use the hammer and sickle as a symbol for his tyranny. All he did was suppress people for expressing themselves and archiving history. Is this what we want communism to be? Because this is what you represent with every time you use it for your cool funky fresh battle jacket.

4: okay well there were other soviet leaders after Stalin? Surely they weren’t as anti semetic right?

Well Nikita Khrushchev almost immediately started an anti religion campaign which destroyed all religious buildings and life including Judaism. So… not a good start.

Jews would receive even more anti semeitism and propaganda ramped up again.

Khrushchev was even quoted as saying “naturally if the Jews now tried to occupy leashing positions in the republic, the local inhabitants would object.” (Page 17)

Synagogues were shut down, with the accusations that drunken activities and criminals ran wild in them. Tefillin (prayer shawls) could not be made or worn. No observance of Jewish worship or prayer or ritual was to be allowed without permission of the authorities. This was particularly vital because Jews rely on synagogues to keep Judaism alive - even now they’re often community centres as well as places of worship. Without this and the production of Jewish articles, Jewish religious life declined to an all time low under Khrushchev’s rule. These synagogues would be turned into warehouses, meeting halls and clubs.

Other forms of anti semeitism happened too, such as:

- Jews would be forced to work Saturdays - the day of shabbos, when Jews were not allowed to work. They’d try their best to avoid this but this was a difficult task.

- rabbis would be charged for various anti soviet activities and were often imprisoned.

- Jewish cemeteries were closed with various excuses given out as to why. Many Jews were forced to cremate their dead relatives - a big no no in Judaism.

- when returning from the Holocaust, many Jews would not be able to return to their homes. A particularly common scenario in Ukraine and Poland. It was a particular fact that stuck with me when I visited Poland in 2022.

- Khrushchev started a economic campaign during which he claimed that “economic crimes” were because of Jews. Speculation, bribery and black markets would be punished by death. Those executed were mostly jewish.

Even in newspapers, one could not escape the Jewish stereotypes that plagued soviet newspapers, that published an article the evils of ‘Zionism’ (read: Judaism). The television and radio would frequently discuss Jews, their supposed plans to take over the world.

Anti semetic books were frequently published between Khrushchev and Brezhnev’s reigns, such as Judaism Without Embellishment. I won’t go into the contents of the book since it’s a lot of your typical anti semetic bullshit but if you want an idea, here’s the front cover.

This book was widely acclaimed within soviet Russia, but after international pressure, the soviet communist party newspaper the Pravda would published a condemnation of the book, stating:

There is no such thing as anti-semeitism in the USSR and cannot be.

Page 35. (See internet? We’ve always been this way).

Other anti Semitic books were published, and went through similar cycles to JWE. One such book was In the Name of the Father and the Son by Ivan Shevtov, which featured a lot of anti semeitic conspiracy theories from the book The Protocols of the Elders of Zion - a notorious conspiracy theory book which features a lot of anti semeitism about the Jewish people.

“In vain I plead with these pogrom bullies. While they jeer and shout,

'Beat the Yids. Save Russia!' Some grain-marketer beats up my mother.

O my Russian people!

I know

you are international to the core.

But those with unclean hands

have often made a jingle of your purest name. I know the goodness of my land.

How vile these antisemites—

without a qualm they pompously called themselves

the Union of the Russian People!”

- Babi Yar by Yevgeny Yevtushenko. This poem was written about the 1941 Odessa massacre, during which 34,000 - 100,000 Jews and Romani people were massacred by the Romanian soldiers in Ukraine. Russia had refused to acknowledge this massacre. Khrushchev harshly condemned Yevtushenko for this work in a meeting with soviet writers and accused him of lying about anti semitism in Russia.

“Okay? Well the anti religious campaign only lasted until Khrushchev was fired. Surely Brezhnev was better?”

After the Six Day War, during which Russia sided against Israel, as well as the Dymshits-Kuznetsov hijacking affair, rampant anti Zionist propaganda would be made. They were mostly thinly disguised anti semeitism. One particular example I found was Secrets and Explicit - essentially a version of The Eternal Jew, a nazi propaganda film from 1940. Secrets even featured a lot of scenes from The Eternal Jew.

If that’s not an antisemitic film, I dunno what is!

During this time Jews could not leave to go to Israel or the US and jewish schools and informal centres were closed. Many Jews desired to get out of Russia and move to Israel due to the increase in anti semeitism. One man who expressed this idea, Boris Kochubievsky, was put into a mental institution without any questioning. In an article about ‘Zionists’, one even mentioned a way to point them out: “hairy chest and arms”, “shifty eyes” and a “hook like nose.” Jews would frequently compared to nazis. Jewish activists were exiled, jailed and send to psychiatric hospitals where they suffered harsh conditions.

Like I mentioned, a lot of the anti Zionism tended to lean towards anti semitism a lot of the time.

Public pressure did eventually allow Jews to leave and in the 70s, 250,000 Jews would leave. The leaving process was often frustrating and if one’s application was rejected, they would be harassed constantly. They would be known as refuseniks. A further 80,000 would leave at the end of the decade.

While Yuri Andropov and Konstantin Chernenko’s reigns over the Soviet Union we’re brief, both were reluctant to change the soviet policy on Jews and even Tammy didn’t have much of the impact that Khrushchev and Brezhnev did.

Mikhail Gorbachev’s attitude to Jews varies depending on who you ask.

Forward - a Yiddish newsletter - made a variety of articles about him upon in death in 2022.

When discussing the lack of Jews left in Russia by the time, Benjamin Ivry mentions a speech by Gorbachev at Babi Yar.

“There, Gorbachev noted that although the right to emigrate had been established for Russia’s Jews, “we… greatly regret the fact that our (Jewish) compatriots are leaving, that the country is losing so many talented, skillful, enterprising people.”

In a different nation, the inclusion of the term “enterprising,” possibly alluding to the astuteness of Jewish oligarchs in accumulating rubles, might have raised some eyebrows. But as Russian leader, Gorbachev was given credit for merely admitting that antisemitism existed at all: “The venomous sprouts of antisemitism arose even on Soviet soil. The Stalin bureaucracy, which publicly disassociated itself from antisemitism, in fact, used it as a means to isolate the country from the outside and strengthen their dictatorial position with the help of chauvinism.”

Rabbi Pinchas Goldschmidt would also discuss his own interactions with the leader, joking to him that he should run for prime minister in Israel. Gorbachev would allow the rabbi to reinstate Jewish schools and synagogues again for the first time in years.

Rina Shamilov would write an article about her parents life as refuseniks, thanking Gorbachev for his efforts in allowing Jews out.

Gorbachev’s work paving the way for our family to leave made him a hero to us. As my mother said, it meant “that my family and kids had the opportunity to escape a painful reality.” Three decades later, the monumental significance of his intervention in our lives still feels fresh.

That’s not to say life as a Jew in Russia was perfect from there.

During a seven day massacre of Armenians in Baku in 1990, a Jewish/Armenian neighbourhood was vandalised. The police and soldiers that were there did nothing. The soviet soldiers would declare martial law there, but it would be too late.

By 1992, 367,000 Jews left Russia.

So, in conclusion, Gorbachev was the only leader who had a somewhat peaceful attitude with Jews. And this had mostly been due to the fact that most of them had left.

But the damage had been done.

Because in the 63 years before Gorbachev’s reign, Jews had been persecuted, murdered and exiled for simply what they believed in, no matter how much they did for communists.

Is any of this okay? Is anything of this something you want in your communist utopia, marked by hammers and sickles and red stars? Is this what you want to see? Because by using the Hammer and Sickle, you’re representing a country’s long history of anti semeitism and persecution towards Jewish people. Even despite their great contributions and achievements for the Soviets, they were murdered, not allowed to leave, not allowed to express themselves or their culture openly. They were exiled, they were executed and brandished with shame.

The Hammer and Sickle has done nothing for the Jewish people. Soviet Russia did nothing for Jewish people. And I hope one day we set it aside and acknowledge that it’s a symbol of spite towards people who did nothing but exist.

If you chose to use this symbol after all I’ve spoken of, I can’t stop you. After all, I’m a single Jewish person in Britain, a distant and quiet voice that can only be heard from a screen.

But I will be angry. I’ll be angry that after I recounted over 60 years of Jewish genocide and persecution, you still chose to wear that bloody hammer and sickle. I’ll be angry that you will dismiss my evidence as stuff from the past. I’ll be angry when you tell me it doesn’t matter and it doesn’t represent the communist idea.

And I’ll cry because after over 100 years of people writing about their pain, sobbing over unjustly murdered relatives, opening telling their tales of how they ran away from a government and country that did nothing but hate them, You’ll still wear that bloody hammer and sickle.

But maybe ignorance is bliss.

“Under the banner of Communism and the hammer and sickle, millions of people--Jews and anarchists, but many many more besides--were persecuted, jailed, silenced, tortured, repressed, and murdered (…) Perhaps people who identify as statist Communists will also be moved by this material to renounce their politics and join us in our struggle against domination, racism, and oppression of all kinds... but we do not have any great hopes of that.”

- A Jewish-Anarchist Refutation of the Hammer and Sickles

Hot take: honestly we should probably stop using the hammer and sickle as a symbol of communism. It’s (debatably) anti semetic and soviet russia doesn’t really represent the whole communism idea very well but I guess people are in denial or something

[charincharge]

I Don’t Want To Wait, seven

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompt:

Sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie!

“I’m never drinking again,” Aelin moaned as she rolled over on Lysandra’s bed, shoving her head under the pillow. She knew Rowan had censored himself filling in the gaps of her night. Saying she was an angry drunk, though accurate, was not quite specific enough.

Apparently, she and Rowan had had a screaming match in the kitchen that he failed to mention, and Aelin had zero recollection of.

“The entire kitchen cleared out,” Lysandra explained, “Lyria included. But you were… pretty loud.”

Aelin groaned into the pillow.

“Why wouldn’t he tell me?”

Lysandra patted Aelin’s foot, trying to be comforting, but Aelin didn’t want to be comforted right now. She kicked Lysandra’s hand away.

“This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Lysandra snorted and poked her bare foot. “At least he thought you were talking about someone else?”

Aelin peeked out from beneath the pillow and frowned again. “That is so much worse. Now he thinks I’m mad at him for not letting me kiss NOX OWEN.”

“What else was he supposed to think? You can’t exactly blame him. You smacked his drink out of his hand and started screeching about how he ruined your kissing plans.”  

“As if I’d ever have a chance with Nox. I barely even have a chance with Rowan, and he’s been my best friend since we were eight.” Aelin sighed loudly. “Whatever. Everything is ruined now. He’s going to prom with Lyria.”

Lysandra frowned, the pity evident in her bright green eyes as she flopped down next to Aelin on her comforter. “I’m sorry, boo.”

“Tell me one more time,” Aelin sighed. “Exactly what we both said. Every word.”

“In the kitchen?”

Aelin nodded.

“You stared at Lyria’s hand for like… a full ten seconds. Then you smacked the drink out of Rowan’s hand, and screamed – Where’s my drink, bitch? And he very calmly said, What the fuck, Aelin? Because… you know. The drink spilled all over the floor. Then you screamed at the top of your lungs, I NEEDED ANOTHER DRINK, AND YOU RUINED EVERYTHING. And he did that eyebrow thing you hate and asked, What did I ruin? And then you screamed back KISSING PLANS. That’s when the kitchen started emptying out.” Aelin groaned.

“It’s so much worse hearing it again.”

Lysandra paused. “Do you want me to repeat the rest?” And Aelin nodded tentatively. It was masochistic, but she needed to hear it all again.

Lysandra sighed loudly, knowing the worst was about to happen. “You fucking raged, Aelin. You incoherently started screaming – I HAD KISSING PLANS. AMAZING REAL FIRST KISS PLANS AND YOU RUINED THEM BY GETTING DISTRACTED.” She crinkled her nose at that. “And it looked like Rowan was going to say something, but you just kept going on and on about your ruined kissing plans. You called him an idiot….” Aelin cringed. She couldn’t believe how belligerent she was. “And then you screamed, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO COME BACK WITH MY DRINK. THE DRINK WAS INTEGRAL TO MY KISSING PLAN. Which, by the way, nice SAT vocab drop while you were blackout drunk. That was impressive.”

Aelin couldn’t do anything more than flick off her friend. She was too busy berating herself for all the stupid things she didn’t remember saying when she was drunk. She’d been this close to telling Rowan she’d planned to kiss him. And she’d said FIRST KISS. It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before – she totally had. There’d been several games of truth or dare which included kisses and a braces-filled makeout session at Camp Terrasen in eighth grade. She’d just meant their first kiss. She wanted to die.

“Then he got really mad himself and screamed back at you that you should have told him about your kissing plans, so he didn’t ruin your night. And you screamed back it didn’t matter since it was already ruined and clearly you could get your own drink.”

“I think that’s when he realized you’d had a little too much to drink that he’d clearly missed. And he sought out Nox, who explained the drink chugging, and while that happened, you literally chugged another drink and then launched yourself at Salvaterre.”

“I have to apologize,” Aelin said, but Lysandra shook her head.

“He didn’t bring it up for a reason.” Lysandra softened her eyes, running her hand through Aelin’s freshly showered hair. “I think once you punched Lorcan he chocked everything up to wasted nonsense.”

Aelin shoved her face into Lysandra’s pillow and let out a low laugh. What a nightmare. “I’m just grateful you and Elide were there to change me,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my embarrassment if Rowan had to peel me out of puke-covered clothes.”

“Yeah, you owe us for that one.”

Aelin’s mouth dropped in shock. “You left me to sleep on the bathroom floor!”

Lysandra laughed. “Only because you scissor kicked Rowan in the knee when he and Wes tried to take you up the stairs.” She looked at Aelin. “He’s not mad at you, Ace. He was going to let you sleep in his bed. Puke-covered and all.”

Aelin rolled onto her back. “But he’s going to prom with Lyria,” Aelin repeated again.

“She’s nice,” Lysandra quipped, causing Aelin to glare at her. “But she’s not you.” Aelin’s lips quirked upward at that. “He’ll figure it out eventually,” she said, letting Aelin breathe a sigh of relief. She really hoped Lysandra’s assessment was true. “Or he won’t, and you’ll spend the rest of your life pining away.”

Aelin snorted loudly. “Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome, bitch.”

Lysandra paused, her green eyes soft and nervous instead of holding their usual brash confidence as she continued. “I know you and Rowan are special best friends with, like, a special best friend song and everything.”

“We do not have a special best friend song?” Aelin interrupted, causing Lysandra to laugh and boop her nose softly.

“You do. It’s ‘Dancing In The Moonlight,’ which is adorable, but not my point.”

“And that is…?”

“I know I’ll never be Rowan, but I’m still a best friend, and if you need to talk about things… you can tell me. Especially if they’re Rowan things.”

Aelin bit her lip and breathed nervously. “I’m glad you know.”

“Oh, babe,” Lysandra laughed, rubbing Aelin’s shoulder softly. “I’ve known about your feelings for years. I’m just glad you finally told me.”

Aelin groaned and shoved her head under the pillow again.

~*~

Dear journal,

I don’t know who else to talk about this with. I know Lysandra KNOWS now, but I just need to vent to someone impartial, okay? Things with Rowan are so weird… because they’re not weird at all. After Lys told me what I screamed at him, I was sure he’d finally come out and clear the air, but it’s been a WHOLE WEEK, and he hasn’t said anythingggg. Everything is just…. normal??? He even let me keep the lacrosse sweatshirt Lys and El put me in. I tried to give it back, but he told me it was mine now. What the hell is THAT about? What does it mean?

I want to tell him I know about the fight, but then I’d have to explain I was screaming about kissing him, and I don’t know if he wants to hear that anymore.

All I know is that every time I look at him I feel like I’m about to explode. Not to mention I’m about to go suit shopping with him for ~PROM~ and I’m kind of freaking out. What is Rowan in a TUX going to do to my body? I might just combust there on the spot. Maybe he’s right. I should ask Lys to teach me how to … you know (masturbate). I tried to watch a video (I KNOW), but I got a million pop ups and got too nervous and shut my laptop off. Maybe I should look on my phone next time. Do phones get pop ups?

UGH OKAY. HE’S HERE. WISH ME LUCK.

Xo, Aelin

5/21/20 – age 16

Aelin slammed her journal shut and shoved it under her stack of decoy notebooks in her nightstand just before Rowan appeared in her doorway.

“Ready to go, Ace?”

She nodded and stretched her arms above her head, shaking out her hand, which was cramped from writing so neatly in her journals.

“Don’t you want to bring a jacket?” Rowan asked, looking at Aelin’s bared stomach pointedly.

“It’s almost June, Buzzard, don’t be such a prude,” she answered, her arms self-consciously crossing over the chest of her cropped t-shirt.

He rolled his eyes, leading them back downstairs, and Aelin grabbed her purse and followed. “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too cold.”

“I would never,” she gasped, feigning shock. “And don’t forget you owe me post-shopping ice cream.”

“Oh, bring me back a pint of chocolate peanut butter,” Rhoe called out from the kitchen, his blue eyes peering out from behind the giant pages of the Orynth Times.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Aelin called out, passing by the kitchen with a wave.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Aelin doubled back and peered into the kitchen where her exhausted looking dad sat. “Rowan is taking you shopping? Has hell frozen over? Rowan, how did you get conned into this?”

Aelin looked up at Rowan, who scratched his head uncomfortably. “She’s actually taking me shopping. I need a tux for prom…” Rowan trailed off, his cheeks turning slightly pink as Rhoe returned a surprised look at the child who was practically his surrogate son.

“Ae, do you need a dress?” he asked, suddenly looking worried. Her dad would give her the moon if he could, but supporting a daughter on a firefighter’s single salary was often more than he could manage.

“Oh, no,” Aelin shook her head, carefully concealing her hurt feelings with a devilish smirk. “Rowan got asked to junior prom.”

Rhoe’s eyes widened, flickering between his daughter and Rowan rapidly, before smiling softly. “An older woman, eh?”

“It’s not like that…” Rowan grumbled, his cheeks flushing slightly as he looked down at the ground at his well-worn running sneakers. “I barely know her. I just said yes to be polite…”

“Sure, Buzzard,” Aelin said, poking Rowan’s side. He frowned at her unhappily, flicking her finger away.

Rhoe barked out a loud laugh. “Have fun, you two.” He fixed Aelin with a serious stare. “Make sure he picks out something really embarrassing, kiddo.” His stare broke as he winked, sending them off on their way, Rowan rushing out of the house as fast as his feet could carry him.

“Oh yeah,” Aelin laughed. “I’m putting him in blue ruffles first.”

“You are not!” Rowan called from outside, already starting up the jeep.

Aelin waved goodbye to her dad and hopped into the passenger seat, cranking up her mix, which was still playing in Rowan’s car.

~*~

“I look stupid,” Rowan whined, shoving his hands into the pockets of the umpteenth different styled tux the shop attendant had pulled for him. This one was black, again, but some kind of shiny material, and the pants had a stripe up the side.

Aelin couldn’t help the small frown that tugged at her lips at how picky her best friend was being. She honestly assumed the boy who mostly lived in athletic shorts and t-shirts would be fine with the first suit he tried on, but he was being finnicky and far too particular for someone who “just said yes to be polite.” And it was starting to get on her nerves. What she thought was going to be an exercise in sexual restraint was actually just trying her patience.

“Shiny, no good!” the salesman agreed, his accent curling thickly around his criticism.

Rowan sighed and turned to look at Aelin, who did her hardest to neutralize her facial expression before he saw her frown, but it was too late.

“I knew it,” Rowan grumbled, peeling the jacket off and handing it to the salesman, who cleared out the full dressing room again, and Aelin gnawed at her lip, trying to think of something comforting to say.

“It’s not bad…”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Ace.”

“Language!” the salesman snapped, and Rowan’s mood lifted for a brief second as he laughed in shock, his eyes going straight to Aelin, as if to say Can you believe this guy? She shook her head in agreement, and she was relieved to see a smile on his face for the first time in two hours.

Aelin pushed herself off the small chair in the communal dressing room space and approached Rowan. She cocked her head to the side and let her eyes shamelessly trail his form. He was right about this particular suit. It did look stupid. But none of the suits, all in differing shades and cuts of black, had looked right. As her gaze trailed back up to his face, his breath held, patiently waiting for her conclusion, Aelin had a stroke of genius.

“Black isn’t your color, Ro. It’s washing you out.” Rowan’s face scrunched at her assessment, clearly unpleased. But the stark contrast between the white and black, combined with his pale hair was doing something to his usually tanned and glowing skin, and it wasn’t good.

“I refuse to wear a light blue suit,” he said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not something bright. Just… subtle color,” Aelin explained, and the salesman started nodding rapidly.

“Ah, yes, the Bellissima is correct. Color. Yes, color! COLOR!”

He excitedly ran back into the shop and returned with suits in various dark shades of navy and emerald and maroon slung over his shoulder. Aelin watched in amusement as he shoved Rowan back into the dressing room, telling him to try the green first.

Aelin stood impatiently, arms crossed and leaning against one of the 360 mirrors, hoping against all hopes that her assessment was correct. She wasn’t sure she could endure another two hours of this. Another five minutes would be bad enough, to be honest.

When Rowan walked out to the small platform, she knew she’d nailed itt. Her pulse thrummed loudly, and she could feel her lips part, inhaling a large gasp into her drying mouth. Rowan looked…

“Wow,” Aelin whispered at the same time Rowan said, “Huh,” peering into the mirror.

Aelin stood up straighter, pushing herself up and getting a closer view of the striking boy in front of her. The green was so dark, it just barely contrasted with the black lapels and trim of the suit, but the color brough a warmth to his face that had been missing, the green of his irises prominent beneath his long blonde lashes. Those bright eyes peered over at Aelin, searching for her reaction, and she couldn’t help the soft blush that appeared across her skin as they locked with hers.

Rowan cleared his throat, coughing lightly as he smoothed the jacket out, pulling the lapels gently. “Uh, yeah. Good call, Ace.”

Aelin lifted her long hair into a high bun, needing something to do with herself besides stare and to allow the breeze of the store fan to cool the back of her neck.

“The one!” the salesman cooed, running his hands across Rowan’s broad shoulders proudly. “We did it!”

When Aelin looked back up, she was surprised to see Rowan’s eyes still on her, gauging her reaction with curiosity. He raised a blonde brow in her direction, and Aelin was afraid for a second that she was going to launch herself at him right there and kiss his face.

Instead swallowed loudly and clapped her hands, shaking off the intensity of his gaze and smiled broadly. “About time, Buzzard. Now, let’s go get me some ice cream.”

The moment was broken as Rowan rolled his eyes and made his way back into the changing room, slinging the suit over the door as Aelin exhaled and slumped back into the chair for a brief reprieve.

“Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream,” Aelin chanted as Rowan paid for the tux rental.

Rowan slung his arm over Aelin’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “Fine. You earned it.”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Aelin said, as the salesperson shouted, “Language!” at them again, as they ran out of the store, both giggling.

By the time they reached their favorite ice cream spot, the sun had set, and the swift down current breeze of the Staghorn Mountains had started up, cooling the temperature significantly from the balmy afternoon Aelin had dressed for.

She looked out at the dark water, shivering slightly as she took her first bite of mint chocolate chip. Rowan bit back a smile as he wrapped his hoodie around himself tighter, keeping the winds out, happily eating his cookie dough without danger of freezing to death.

On her third bite, Aelin finally broke. “Oh come on, Buzzard, sharing is caring. Now, give me the hoodie.”

“I told you to bring your jacket!” Rowan laughed just as a particularly strong gust cut against Aelin’s exposed skin, making her shudder. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” he snorted, opening up the hoodie and nodding to her. “Get in here.”

“Really?” she asked, teeth chattering.

“You’re the worst,” he joked as he unzipped his hoodie and held it open, and Aelin practically raced into it. Rowan’s smile grew as he zipped the hoodie back up, which shockingly stretched large enough to fit them both. Just barely. Aelin pressed her cheek against his chest, soaking in his warmth as his free hand rubbed her back. She shivered again, but this time having nothing to do with the cold, warmth and desire radiating through her body as she felt every twitch of his muscles, every shallow breath.

“Better?” he asked, and she nodded, smiling happily into her next bite of ice cream. She savored each bite, not wanting the moment to end too soon. Each bite tasting better than the last, surrounded in Rowan’s grasp and heat. She breathed in, his heady scent filling her head, his embrace feeling so perfect around her. Her stomach calmed, everything suddenly feeling so right.

“Thanks, Ace,” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. “I know that’s not how you wanted to spend your Saturday.”

Aelin finished her last bite and leaned harder into his warm chest. “I don’t care how we spend our Saturdays,” Aelin admitted. “As long as we’re hanging out.”

“Cool,” Rowan said, sounding so lame that Aelin couldn’t help but laugh, and she could feel him hiding his own smile in her hair. “Okay, we have to get back into the car,” he laughed outright, his hands rubbing circles onto her back, and Aelin shook her head into his shirt. No, she wanted to stay just like this forever.

“I’ll freeze to death!” she countered instead.

“We’ll just have to make a run for it. I don’t plan on losing you tonight, Ace.” Aelin groaned, but Rowan knew he’d won. “On the count of three,” he warned her. “One… two…” On three, he unzipped the hoodie, and Aelin screeched, her voice raising to glass shattering levels as she sprinted towards the jeep, wind whipping through her thin t-shirt and cutting against her warmed skin like ice.

Rowan unlocked the jeep as they ran, and they both launched themselves into their seats simultaneously, joyful laughter bubbling up in both of them and filling the car.

Aelin watched Rowan as he turned the car on, and immediately cranked up the heat. Her stomach fluttered again, and she crossed her legs to quell the ache of desire that had begun to take over her body.

As stealthily as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Lysandra again.

I need some help.

Her phone lit up with Lysandra’s returning message almost immediately. XYZ kind of help???

Aelin snorted at the use of Rowan’s code name. Lysandra had suggested if Aelin ever wanted to talk about Rowan in text, she probably shouldn’t use his name. Just in case he ever saw. Aelin had immediately suggested his initials, RW, but Lysandra smartly pointed out he was the only RW they knew. Lysandra cackled, suggesting XYZ – because it came right after W. And with any luck, Aelin would be coming soon.

Aelin’s cheeks flushed as she texted back. Can you teach me/instruct me/explain how to masturbate?

OMG!!!!! MY BABY BUTTERFLY, YES YES YES GIRLLLLL!!!

Aelin laughed softly, and Rowan looked at her curiously, from her cheeks to the phone lit up in her hand.

“Who could you possibly be texting right now?” he asked, and if Aelin didn’t know better she would have thought he maybe sounded slightly put out.

“Lysandra,” she answered, a little too quickly, but her heart was beating too fast at the inappropriate back and forth she and Lys were having, especially since she wanted to fantasize about the person sitting right next to her while she… learned.

“What about?” Rowan asked, curious.

Aelin bit her lip. “You were right,” she said, her face probably beet red. She was grateful he couldn’t entirely see the color in the dark.

“About what?” he asked. “I mean, I’m often right about a lot of things,” he added cheekily.

“Masturbation,” Aelin replied as confidently as she could, while feeling like her skin was going to burn her alive. The car swerved slightly as Rowan snapped his head to look in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice sounding strained and high.

“Lysandra’s going to teach me.”

Aelin could feel her best friend’s gaze puncturing holes into her flaming cheeks as he searched for something to say. But when she looked up, she couldn’t speak fast enough.

“ROWAN!” she shouted as the jeep crashed straight into the taillights of the car in front of them.

~*~*~*~

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