#i become literally the most cringe person in the room (ironically) like

[callilouv]

wish i cld enjoy domesticity bc its akshally saur cute but the most domestic ive gotten in my day to day life is do house chores while blokcing errbody out w music

[canichangemyblogname]

I posted 9,135 times in 2022

That's 9,113 more posts than 2021!

1,055 posts created (12%)

8,080 posts reblogged (88%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@angelsaxis

@jedi-valjean

@laz-laz-ace-pilot

@clonehub

@canichangemyblogname

I tagged 6,642 of my posts in 2022

Only 27% of my posts had no tags

#star wars - 756 posts

#captain rex - 335 posts

#andor (2022) - 295 posts

#ahsoka tano - 230 posts

#thecollectibles - 228 posts

#the clone wars - 203 posts

#the bad batch - 176 posts

#clone troopers - 159 posts

#andor spoilers - 153 posts

#reblog - 139 posts

Longest Tag: 135 characters

#but a bunch of white westerners did—metaphorically and literally—find this galaxy‚ colonize their shit‚ and expose them to christianity

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I wanna let y'all know that you're impressive. All the stuff you create from gifs to comics to illustrations to sketches to rough drafts to full-chapter novels-- all of it.

It's impressive.

That took time. That took work.

And I'm proud of you.

732 notes - Posted August 8, 2022

#4

817 notes - Posted February 28, 2022

#3

Rb to drop kick Crosshair off a cliff

1,083 notes - Posted May 5, 2022

#2

A friendly reminder:

If the state has the power to decide who must give birth

It also has the power to decide who must not give birth.

4,966 notes - Posted June 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The reason Tumblr was such an L for Yahoo wasn’t because it’s user base was so insufferable, but because Tumblr became a less popular media platform. Algorithm became more popular, creating content that people would literally crave, specifically tailored to them. And it’s a boon for advertisement. Twitter? Facebook? Instagram? TikTok? They’re essentially tailored billboards; sites dedicated to advertisement. What made Tumblr an L was the ban on NSFW and the inability to sell ads, not just the cultural disconnect between Yahoo and the platform. It literally lost some 1/3 of its traffic following the NSFW ban.

Yahoo bought Tumblr as the site was competing with other media platforms and slowly becoming obsolete. Asking why people don’t flock here anymore is like asking why people don’t use MySpace any more. There was a shift to different forms of media.

What made Tumblr an L was not the existence of an insufferable user base, but the loss of its user base.

Twitter? Twitter will never be an L for Musk. First, there is no cultural disconnect between him and the platform. Musk is the epitome of Twitter culture. Capitalistic. Reductive. “Edgy.” Cringe. Thinking he’s the smartest person in the room; a true intellectual. Offensively pseudo-ironic. Literally Twitter.

You want Twitter to be Musk’s L? Deactivate.

Deactivate your Twitter.

What will lose him money is a loss of users. It’s already a site optimized for ads and outrage and tailored content. It’s already a site tailored to his type of personality.

You want him to lose money?

Deactivate.

Make his pockets bleed.

32,939 notes - Posted October 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[random-thought-depository]

Masonry heaters are a particularly efficient kind of pre-nineteenth-century heating technology. They’re basically a big block of masonry with convoluted pathways inside that smoke is forced to pass through before it escapes. This creates more complete combustion (IIRC) and makes the smoke transfer much of its energy to the masonry (ordinary fireplaces send most of the energy the fire generates up the chimney with the smoke). The big block of masonry then acts as an energy storage medium, storing the heat and gradually radiating it into the space it’s supposed to be heating over many hours. You can find articles talking up masonry heaters as an efficient and carbon-neutral��“green” technology, e.g. this one, which is where I first learned about them. I guess they’re pretty much the technological pinnacle of the preindustrial “burn some wood or wood-derived charcoal, or if you can’t get wood burn some other dry solid biomass” paradigm of heating technology.

They seem to have become common in the eastern part of Europe (Germany, Russia, etc.) between 1500 and 1800, as a response to the European wood fuel crisis in that period caused by population growth and the Little Ice Age. Don’t seem to have caught on much in western Europe and the Americas though; western Europeans went with a different adaptation to diminishing wood fuel supplies: they started more intensively exploiting coal, and down that path lay escape from the energy constraints of the biosphere and modernity. Interesting to think of that as a fork in the road.

A type of masonry heater called a Russian stove seems to have been pretty much the centerpiece of the kind of houses Russian peasants usually lived in during the last centuries of pre-Soviet era (called izbas). Apparently, it often took up a non-trivial chunk of the floor space of the izba, which was usually basically a one-room cabin that would be shared by an extended family of, like, six or ten people. These were people so poor they used few if any nails in constructing their houses because iron nails were too expensive for them, but they were willing to invest in the construction of a masonry heater that literally weighed something like a ton and the services of a skilled mason to build it (I’ve found mentions of stove-setters being a highly respected profession); that’s suggestive of how helpful the technology must have been to them.

So I got to wondering how much fuel a Russian stove would actually use; for peasants that would be firewood that they’d have to gather. So I Googled how much wood you’d need to run a masonry heater:

According to this: four 20 pound (9.1 kg) loads of wood for 12 hours of heat. So to keep a home warm 24 hours, 160 pounds of wood. Appalling in this context! Imagine having to gather 160 pounds of wood every day! While also having to do the work of running a low-tech farm! And that’s supposed to be with this super-efficient pinnacle of wood-burning technology! How much worse would it have been with one of the open hearths that were the historically typical home heating technology?

Some other sites suggested less appalling but still rather cringe-inducing in this context amounts. This one: 70-100 pounds (32-44 kg) per day after some multiplication. This one: 60-100 pounds per day after some multiplication, depending on the size of the space to be heated.

I decided to try it from a different angle and look up estimates for per capita firewood consumption in the Middle Ages:

According to an estimate I found in the book Money, Markets and Trade in Late Medieval Europe, 8 kg per person per day in Sweden and Finland, 4 kg in warmer places like England and northern France, and that includes “industrial uses,” so it’s not just direct home/farm consumption. Wait a minute! 4-8 kg per day is way lower than 60-160 pounds per day! And this is including uses in metal-working etc. and with people mostly using less efficient heating systems! What’s going on?

One clue that jumped out at me was reading what it actually said in one of those sites: “Depending on the size of the model, a medium heater could heat 1500 to 1800 sq. ft. with a 30 pound load two times daily and a large heater can heat 2000 to 2500 sq. ft. using a 50 pound load one or two times daily.” I’m guessing Russian peasant izbas were usually a lot less than 1500 square feet! A 20 ft. X 20 ft. box would be 400 sq. ft., and that sounds more likely for what’s more-or-less a one-room cabin. In fact, I found a number for normal peasant izba square footage: 265 square feet! Assuming firewood consumption scales linearly with the area to be heated, if a 1500 sq. ft. modern house needs 60 pounds of wood a day to heat, then a 265 sq. ft. nineteenth century Russian peasant izba would need 10.6 pounds (4.8 kg) of wood per day. Now that’s more like it!

Also, even in our highly neolocal society, most houses have more than one resident. IIRC more-or-less nuclear family patterns are old in western Europe, but Russian peasants mostly lived in multi-generational extended family households. Offhand, that suggests a typical household might be more like 6 people (grandparents, parents, two children) or more (judging by Margaret Eager’s account, often much more; “I have counted as many as twenty-one little children all in one cabin, and have been told that there are often more”). Divide the 10.6 pound (4.8 kg) household wood consumption by six and you get a little less than two pounds per person per day. That’s more in line with the 4-8 kg per person per day if you include uses in metal-working, pottery firing, etc. and people mostly living in warmer climates but using less efficient heating systems figure.

Also, these numbers represent averages over the whole year, and even in Russia some days would be warm enough that heating wouldn’t be needed (which would leave cooking as the primary use of firewood).

And finally, I suspect modern people have higher standards for how warm and comfortable they expect the temperature of their homes to be. Modern masonry stoves must be made appealing to modern First World customers, who are used to being pampered by heating systems that aren’t constrained by the energy flows of the biosphere, and the wood consumption estimates for them in marketing websites likely reflect that. Nineteenth century Russian peasants likely would have liked to have homes with temperatures as warm and comfortable as modern First World homes, but, to paraphrase the Architect in the Matrix sequels, there would have been levels of survival they would have had to accept, because they had no better alternatives.

I guess gathering around two pounds of wood per day wouldn’t be so bad (or gathering around 10 pounds of wood per day but you get to take turns doing it with a few other people). But to be able to make do with that little, you’d need the pinnacle of woodfire-based heating technology and you’d need to live with six or ten other people in a one room cabin about 15 X 17 feet wide and long.

We’re very lucky to live in a society that isn’t constrained by the energy flows of the biosphere!

[untaemedqueen]

Snowed In

Best Friend!Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Best Friends To Lovers, Huddle of Warmth, Domestic!AU, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Marking, Impregnation Kink, Thigh Slapping, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Possessive!Hoseok, Ab Worship, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Belly Bulge, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Cream Pie

WordCount: 15k

A/N: Okay! MERRY EARLY CHRISTMAS! I’m super super lucky to have all of my darlings in one collab with me! Always a shoutout to my loves @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​, @xjoonchildx​ and @underthejoon​ for rooting me on always! Shout out to @hobi-gif​ for beta-ing it and literally helping me learn English lmfao. My other loves @snackhobi​ and @yeojaa​ rooted on the idea for this fic and helped me flesh things out and I’m so lucky I’m constantly surrounded by such amazing people!

Seasons for most people inspire and bring delight with every change of color on leaves in high up trees. Yet with you, you always hated all the seasons and everything they stood for. Until you met him. Or let him in anyway.

It sounds corny and ridiculous. It probably is.

People always deemed you cold hearted or uncaring and it was all true. But he brought love to your heart. He made colors brighter. He made the world seem bigger and better than you ever noticed before.

He was always around, even if you didn't want him to be. You had some friends from childhood that insisted on keeping him around. He was kind and eager with everything that he did. And it annoyed the ever living crap out of you.

But you slowly opened up that iron cage around your heart and let him in. Even if it took him ages for you to let him in, he was determined.

You never understood why it always turned terribly cold the day before Halloween. It was a constant as well as surprising. But, what was probably more surprising was that people couldn't give a bigger fuck about frigid temperatures when they had revealing costumes to wear.

"I don't wanna go!" you whine to Taehyung as he takes off his shirt. Rolling his eyes, he throws the fabric perfectly on the top of your head before thrusting his fist up in the air.

"Score!" he cheers loudly as he grabs the top of his costume.

You ball up the tee-shirt in hand before chucking it at him with a sneer.

"Kim Taehyung," you mumble as you look back down at your phone.

"You have to go. Do you want me to not get pussy? Is that what it is? You have an agenda against me? A no pussy agenda? That's fucked up Y/N. I can't even believe you!" He rants as he slips on his top.

"Oh my God," you murmur as you lean back against the headboard of his bed.

Knowing this man since you were six -- nothing has changed. He's been by your side through thick and thin. He has always been a fearless best friend and a fierce fighter for you.

You've never liked people but the one person you've really only cared for has been Kim Taehyung. And, Park Jimin -- but he's a different story entirely.

"Jaemin is going too, you don't want to see your own boyfriend?" Taehyung asks as he stands in front of his mirror.

You look up slowly from your phone only to catch his gaze through the mirror. "Jaemin is his own person. He can do whatever he wants without me having to be by his side like glue."

Taehyung snorts gently as he combs his fingers through his hair.

"Man, I don't know how you keep relationships. You're so mean. Jaemin has a strong heart to be with you," you give him a fake smile as you flip him your middle finger.

"Not everyone needs to be as coddled as you do, Tae," you reply as you stand up off the bed.

"Hey. I'm only so needy and clingy because my parents didn't love me as a child," he says as he puts hairspray in his hair.

You snort gently at his words before the door of his dorm room opens.

"Tae!" you hear Hoseok cheer and you internally sigh.

In your first year of college, Hoseok was in every single class you signed up for. You saw him for multiple hours a day and he was so nice -- so completely nice, that it was terrifying.

No one should be so kind and selfless but that's just who he is. Once Taehyung and Jimin had met him, the trio that you’d always been had turned into some bizarre foursome that you didn't quite care for. You were used to the other two around, but with Hoseok you just became uncomfortable. Maybe it's your crippling anxiety or your extreme awkwardness.

"Hey Hoseok!" Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs his pants.

Hoseok looks around the room before spotting you. His smile seems to widen -- if that's even possible.

He is incredibly handsome. His eyes always seem to sparkle with an energy you've never really seen before. Jimin calls it allure, Taehyung calls it kindness.

“Y/N! Hey! Happy Halloween!” He says happily as he enters the room.

His costume is simple, just a leather jacket, black t-shirt and black ripped jeans with a Scream mask hanging from his neck but it’s nice.

“Hey, Hobi,” you reply, your voice is wrapped with dull tones. Sitting back down on the bed, you look at your phone for a distraction.

“What’s your costume?” he asks as he sits down beside you.

“She’s going as herself. Because, that’s the scariest thing this world can offer,” Taehyung jeers as he puts on his eyeliner.

You give a fake laugh as you lock your phone. “Wow! Tae, you’re so funny! You get all the girls with your quirky humor?”

Hoseok laughs beside you, the sound is endearing to hear, unfortunately. But, you do find yourself giggling as Taehyung flips you the middle finger right back.

“I don’t like Halloween. Or any holidays as a matter of fact… or people,” you tell the cute black haired boy beside you. He hums understandingly as he folds his arms.

“It’s cool to be introverted,” he replies softly which Taehyung scoffs at.

“Not my Y/N. When she’s with me, she breaks out of her shell, right?” you hum uneasily as Taehyung enters the bathroom.

“Because you make me!” you retort loudly, lifting your body off of the headboard of his bed to call out to him. You huff out as you lean back before folding your arms and looking at Hoseok.

“How do you deal with him?” you quip as he looks up at the ceiling.

“He was your friend first,” he replies, a gentle smirk settling onto his features before turning his head to you.

“Touche,” you mutter as Taehyung throws his pajama pants at your head from the doorway of the bathroom.

Going to parties was certainly not a hobby for you. They’re loud and the environment usually smells like stale beer or high proof vodka. People stumble or shove you out of the way in their drunken stupor. It’s usually a gigantic mess.

But, if you must, you go to parties with your two best friends plus one Jung Hoseok, who is too kind for his own good.

Exactly what you hate is right before your eyes as you all pull up to Jimin’s frat house. The music is so loud, you can practically feel the bass beneath your feet as you step onto the front lawn. Already, there are strewn Solo cups on the ground and girls in tiny costumes. Which doesn’t bother you as much, you dress how you want to dress but it’s just so fucking cold!

You see him in passing, your boyfriend flits away before you can even call out to him. He looks good, really good. Sometimes you’re surprised he asked you out first. His hair is coiffed and you know his costume is supposed to be a zombie jock, which isn’t far off from what he normally is. He’s gigantic compared to you, the quarterback of the college football team and sitting comfortably at six foot five. He’s incredibly handsome and he’s yours. Which is bizarre because you never even thought he noticed you at all around the college green until last year.

“Lee Jaemin!” Taehyung calls out to him as he grabs a beer.

You cringe as Tae calls him, he shouldn’t have to come over if he doesn’t want to...

“Oh shit! What’s up guys!” Jaemin cheers loudly. You can hear the slur already in his voice.

He gives high fives to everyone before planting a sloppy, yet quick, kiss to your lips.

“So, where’s your costume?” Jaemin asks you as he pops the top of his can open.

“I don’t like Halloween, you know that,” you mumble as he ruffles your hair with a chuckle.

“You don’t like anything, baby. Except this dick.” He kisses your hairline before walking away leaving you all on your own.

You scratch the back of your neck uncomfortably, before looking over at Taehyung and Hoseok.

“I’m sorry,” your apology is weak as well as your voice.

God, you and Jaemin are so different sometimes.

Taehyung passed you a beer with a gentle scoff and you can tell that he's holding his tongue.

Cracking open the beer, you take a long sip before staring at the frat house.

"I'm sorry I made you come." Tae apologizes softly as your blue haired best friend begins to bolt towards you all.

You grumble softly in response before groaning as Jimin bum rushes you. Knocking all of the air out of your lungs, you cough loudly as he squeezes you tightly to his body.

"Happy Halloween! You bunch of assholes!" he cries happily as he shakes you around in his arms.

"Get… off!" you wheeze out, slapping his arm with all the strength you can muster.

Once he lets go, your free hand drops to your knee as you gasp for breath.

"You okay?" Hoseok asks softly, a goofy smirk on his lips as he presses his hand to your shoulder.

You give a thumbs up weakly before coughing loudly and standing upright.

"LET'S GO PARTY!" Jimin yells loudly across the lawn as he throws his arms up in the air.

You watch as other drunken college kids cheer along with him and you roll your eyes as Hoseok squeezes your shoulder.

You've managed to avoid conversing or dancing throughout the night which seemed like the only highlight so far. The typical pushing and shoving from drunk people to get places was the norm so far. You've been offered blunts and other varying drugs that you politely refused.

Finally, you found an empty couch in the large living room for you to become a loner in. Watching the drunken couple get up from making out to take their affairs elsewhere, you swooped in like a hawk to sit like a marble statue.

You spot Taehyung, his arm high up on the wall as he cages a girl between his hips. They're talking (more like screaming at each other over the loud music) and you lean your head back on the couch as you watch them.

Tae has always had an effervescent personality ever since you were very little, so it's no surprise as he holds his hand out to the random girl and she takes it willingly. You'll have no ride home tonight, you find yourself thinking.

Jaemin hasn't come looking for you once since you saw him on the lawn. He was a partier, you were not.

"Hey!" you hear someone scream to your right.

Looking to the owner of the voice, you give a small smirk as Hoseok flops down beside you.

"I was looking for you!" he calls into your ear as he passes you a Solo cup.

"Why?" you reply confused as your eyes focus on his handsome face in the dim lighting of the living room.

"Because I knew you'd be all alone!" he quips, elbowing you gently with a smirk.

You roll your eyes, the corners of your lips turning upward and you bring the Solo cup to your mouth.

"It's like watching a group of crazed monkeys jumping around!" He jokes as you both watch people dance.

You can feel yourself giggle softly, you couldn't hear anything soft above the music.

There's silence between you two for a bit, but it's comfortable. You can feel his thigh pressing into yours gently as you both watch people moving along with the music.

"Where's Jaemin?" Hoseok calls once more and you shrug flippantly as you take a sip of the mixed drink.

Vodka and cranberry.

"Did you make this?!" you ask him as he throws his arm over the lip of the couch.

He nods with a smile before raising his own.

"It's my favorite!" you call back to him.

"I know!" he replies happily before looking back at all the people.

He's so thoughtful, it's bizarre. Taking another swig of the drink, your eyes catch Jaemin walking up the stairs to his bedroom. Not even a minute later, a girl follows with a knowing smile set on her face.

Your eyebrow raises at the sight and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.  Sitting up slightly, Hoseok follows your gaze and he practically blanches at what you could possibly be thinking.

"Excuse me." you call to him as you stand up.

"Y/N! Wait!" Hoseok screams over the music but his voice gets softer as you weave through all the people dancing.

You feel his hand curl around your arm and your first instinct is to pull away from him. But, he keeps his grip steadfast.

"Stay with me." Hoseok pleads in your ear.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you rip your hand away from him. You grip the banister of the stairs.

As you look up at the second floor landing, it seems more daunting with each and every step.

"Yo!" Jimin cheers as he climbs up the stairs with you.

"Gonna go get your freak on?!" he jeers. Hoseok is quick to elbow him in the ribs, sending a cautionary glance his way that shuts him up quickly.

"Y-Y/N?" Jimin asks as you clutch tighter onto the staircase banister. Your knuckles turn white and you have to focus on your breathing as you ascend further.

You can’t even begin to respond as you reach the top of the staircase. Your mind is running a mile a minute.

Sure, you and Jaemin weren’t attached at the hip but you’ve been dating a year. He never even has given the hint that he was getting tired of you or bored of your presence. Although you could be completely different at times, you were happy when you were together. You didn’t need to see him every day to feel complete, you thought you both were okay.

“Y/N. You don’t have to do this.” Hoseok says as he grabs the Solo cup from your hand.

You can barely hear him above the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

Everything is muffled, even the high volume music that pumps throughout the house.

You spot Taehyung, making out with the girl from earlier outside Jimin’s bedroom. He catches you out of the corner of his eye and sees how ghostly pale you’ve become, his blood runs cold at the sight.

“What’s wrong?” he yells as he leaves the girl on her own.

Swallowing thickly, you ignore him. Your feet are slow and sluggish but you make your way to Jaemin’s room without a second thought.

Your hand shakes as you reach for the door knob. You can hear loud, bitter whispers from the men behind you as you clamp down on the metal in hand. Taking a deep breath, you thrust the door open.

You take your boyfriend of a year in your sights, his hands on the random girls hips as she straddles him. Apparently, they wasted no fucking time getting naked.

Your eyes flutter shut at the image now burned into your corneas. And, you feel as if a hole has been punched through your gut.

Upon opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend's head angle towards the door. His sideburns are caked down with sweat and with narrowed eyes he finally makes out your figure in the dark hallway.

“Holy shit! Hey, baby!” He yells out surprised as he shoves her off his lap.

Just hearing his voice, how it’s meant to sound playful brings tears to your eyes. Your nasal passages burn with bitter intent and you look down at the floor as he sits up.

“Hey, Y/N! Listen, I-” you’re shoved out the way by Taehyung and Jimin who advance towards the quarterback with venom dripping from their gaze.

“You fucking asshole!” Taehyung screams as he punches Jaemin in the face.

You feel arms wrapping around you, none other than Hoseok’s as he pulls you away.

“Chill man! It’s fucking college! You think I was going to just stay with your introverted little creepy friend for the rest of my life?!” you hear Jaemin scream as Hoseok tugs you towards the staircase.

You decided to walk home, even though it was freezing outside. The sharp breeze chills you to the bone and sets your mind alight as you trudge through the brown, crinkled leaves that line the sidewalks.

Hoseok has stayed by your side throughout the walk and thankfully, he hasn’t said a word. You were mad at yourself for crying. Stopping every so often to wipe bitter tears off your cheeks as you folded in on yourself.

He can see you shivering as you get closer to your dorm and he tugs off his leather jacket. Swinging it over your shoulders, he hooks his arm around you before pulling you into his chest.

You feel too dead inside to move, but the warmth and comfort of his body is nice.

“You don’t have to talk. But, I will.” Hoseok says as you finally reach your dorm.

Opening up the door for you, he waits as you scan the keycard to enter the building.

Once safely in the elevator, you shrug off his leather jacket before handing it back to him with a small murmur of a thank you.

You feel lucky that your dorm room is a single, because tonight you would not be ready to deal with a roommate.

Stepping inside your dorm, you make your way over to your bed before sitting down with a huff.

Hoseok, the handsome, kind man that he is sits in front of you. He crosses his legs and all you can see in his eyes is sorrow.

“You are so amazing. You’re too fucking good for that piece of shit asshole. You deserve so much better than him. Even if you come off rough around the edges, you’re kind to your friends and you care deeply about things that are important to you. You’re smart and confident in what you do know and you’re a force to be reckoned with. Fuck him if he doesn’t appreciate you. There are plenty of people in the world that do. Me being one of them,” he says as he puts his hands on your knees.

You weren’t in the mood for nice comments but the way that he says it, with such conviction makes you feel almost lighter in a way.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out.

“You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to entertain me. I’m here for you to make sure you’re okay.” Hoseok says gently as he runs his hands over your knees.

Maybe you’ve been too harsh with him. Maybe he was someone you wanted in your life. He’s helped you in ways you didn’t even think you would need tonight. He’s dependable.

"Thanks, Hobi." you manage to whisper out.

It was a nickname you made for him and only him. And, only you could use it.

"You can lay down if you want. I won't leave you alone, unless you want me too," he says softly.

You didn't know if you could handle being all by yourself right now after the night you've had.

"Stay," you whisper as you take off your hoodie.

He gives an understanding nod as you lay down on your bed. Pulling the covers over you, he sighs gently as you close your eyes.

You never really understood until now why Jimin and Taehyung brought Hoseok into your group. Of course, he was kind and fun to be around but he was dependable and just a genuinely good friend.

"Sit," you tell him as you push yourself flush against the wall, turning onto your side.

Hoseok seems to be fighting within himself for a second before he's kicking off his shoes to sit up against the headboard beside you.

He brings his knees up to his chest before wrapping his arms around them. You've noticed him doing it several times in the past. It's endearing to watch him do it every time, like he needs to make room for something.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the horrible scene from not too long ago. You really, really liked him. Even if you weren't the best at showing it.

"I thought we were okay. I know that sometimes I can be difficult to be with b-"

"Y/N," Hoseok interrupts you. You look up at him as he angles his face down towards yours, "There is nothing wrong with you. This is his fault. I'm not going to sit here and let you beat yourself up over that fucking douchebag."

You hum unsurely, as your fingers pull at a stray strand of fabric that sticks out from your comforter.

"I just… I don't date people because I'm not confident or anything and look what happens," you reply hopelessly as you turn onto your back. Staring at the ceiling, your eyes flit from one glow in the dark star that you and Jimin stuck up there to the other.

"You're beautiful. Not just your face, but your being is beautiful. Confidence isn't easy to gain but you should have it because you deserve it. You're pretty wonderful." Hoseok says as he looks up at the ceiling with you.

His words are warming, like chicken soup when you've got a cold.

"Thanks for being my friend Hobi," you say as you close your eyes.

"Thanks for being mine," he replies, knocking his foot playfully into your hip.

The bedroom door swings open with your two best friends and you sit up on your elbows as they file in.

Taehyung's knuckles are cut up, dried blood flecks his costume and his fingers. Jimin is the same, but a stream of dried blood is apparent from his nose and your eyes widen at the sight.

Tae looks over you before jumping onto your body.

You groan loudly as he manhandles you. He wraps his arms around you into a bear hug before peppering your cheek with kisses.

"I'm so sorry," he cries out as you push at his shoulders.

"Get off me!" you whine, slapping the bloody shirt away from you.

"What happened to you?" Hoseok asks Jimin.

"Jaemin hooked me when I told him that he's no longer welcome in Alpha Sigma Tau." Jimin spits at the simple mention of his name and you feel your heart almost as light as a feather as he winks at you.

Hoseok high fives Chim before looking back up at the ceiling shaking his head.

Maybe being a weird foursome is better than a trio.

Being on campus as the quarterback's ex-girlfriend is uncomfortable and a hard pill to swallow. But, it's easier with the three lunatics you call best friends.

"Help me pack!" you hear Taehyung complain as you lean against the headboard of his bed.

Hoseok throws a pair of briefs at him before grimacing.

"Why should we help you pack when you didn't even invite us?" Jimin quips as he lifts his head from the hardwood floor.

The younger best friend scoffs loudly as he throws his skiing goggles into his suitcase.

"Believe me, if I could bring you all to the Swiss Alps -- I would. But, you know how my parents are."

You do in all honesty. Taehyung belongs to one of the richest families in the area and his family is quick to dismiss others who are not of their similar standing. You were lucky that your mother was his father's assistant and the same goes for Jimin with Taehyung's mother.

"What are you doing for Christmas, Jimin?" Hoseok asks curiously as he leans back against the headboard beside you.

"I'm going to France with my younger brother. Our mom got us a good deal at the Four Seasons." Jimin says flippantly as he fixes his varsity jacket.

Hoseok hums before nudging you, "What about you?" he asks softly.

Your heart pangs uncomfortably as you look at your different colored socks.

"I'll probably just stay here for Christmas. I was supposed to spend Christmas with Jaemin and my parents are going out of the country so I'll be here," you reply as you look out the window.

You can see the sudden snow flurry sticking to the bare branches of trees and the windowsill of Taehyung's bedroom window.

You didn't realize just how fucked up your holiday plans would be after Jaemin cheated on you just a month ago.

"Oh. No way." Hoseok mumbles softly and you clear your throat uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry Y/N." Jimin whispers as he sits up.

You shrug as Hoseok puts his hand on your shoulder.

He looks at the other guys before clearing his throat.

"Well… you can come with me for Christmas, if you'd like. You'd be more than welcome," he suggests. Just the thought makes your eyes widen.

"Why would I go home with you for Christmas?" you ask, confused.

You watch the tips of his ears turn red and he shakes his head oddly.

"I mean, it was just a suggestion. You'd be welcome at my house. My parents are really kind," he whispers softly.

Taehyung looks at Jimin and they wink in tandem to one another.

"You should go, Y/N! I'm sure it would be a lot of fun! Better than sitting in your room eating ramen for Christmas!" Taehyung cheers as he throws a bunch of socks into his suitcase.

"I couldn't intrude," you reply softly, looking down at your hands.

Go home with Hoseok for Christmas? Why would you ever do such a thing? Sure, he's one of your best friends but… you would meet his parents. You would sit around the table like a family. That's just… insane.

"You wouldn't be intruding. Plus, my parents know all about you. They'd love to meet you," Hobi says, knocking his knee into yours.

"You tell your parents about me?" your voice is small and distant as you pick at the skin around your nails.

"Of course I do. You're amazing," his voice is enraptured with a breathy laugh and now you can feel your ears starting to warm up.

There's silence for a moment which Taehyung is more than happy to break. "That's perfect! See, Y/N! You won't be alone for Christmas!"

You hum uneasily before looking over to Hoseok as he tilts his head at you. His eyes crease in delight and his expression is one of pure earnestness.

You don't want to be alone for the holidays. Because, when you're truly alone the sadness sets in.

"You're sure it's okay?" you ask him and his smile widens at your words.

"I'm positive," he replies as he slings his arm over your shoulder.

Hoseok was used to your silence by now. It doesn't bother him one bit, it's just nice to know that you're sitting beside him.

With his wrist up on the steering wheel, his eyes glance over and it warms his heart to see you taking in the colorful Christmas lights strung up on houses.

It's a pleasant surprise to him when you speak first. "I didn't buy your parents any presents."

Hoseok lets out an amused chuckle as he focuses back on the road.

"You don't need presents, you are the present for Christmas." he lets out a laugh as you elbow his ribs. "Hey! I'm driving! You maniac!" he yells as you chuckle.

"I'm serious! I need to buy your parents something at least!" you complain as you enter town from the outskirts.

"We can stop at Jeulgeoum." he replies as you continue to drive.

The town he grew up in is very small. Like it's own community. You feel like the Grinch as Hoseok starts to wave at random people that notice his car in the middle of the street.

You really, really hate holidays. Your parents were never excited to spend time with you like you used to watch in movies. Even if it was two days out of the whole year, it was more like a hassle to them.

As Hoseok continues to wave, you find yourself sliding down in the passenger's seat.  You pull your hood up, eyes fixed on the dashboard.

"That's Mr. Lee. He makes the best mochi in the town center. I used to go into town with my sister and he used to make me dance for free pieces of rice cake." his voice is filled with warmth as he recalls the memory. You find your head peeking up to look at the old man and the corner of your lips turns upwards as he waves wildly to Hoseok.

The car slows down and you look over to the handsome boy as he lowers his window.

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Lee!" Hoseok cheers out the window.

"You as well, Hoseok. Merry Christmas to you and your girlfriend." Widening your eyes, you pull your hood up. You train your eyes on your jeans as you lower your head.

This was a BAD idea. It hadn't even occurred to you that people would call you his girlfriend. Then, you'd have to waste your breath explaining that you're just friends and why you're with him rather than your family.

"Sorry about that." Hobi whispers as he rolls up his window.

You hum in agreement as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

"Just try to enjoy yourself. I know that it's hard but you might just have fun," he says softly.

Hoseok seemed to know everyone which isn't shocking. He's so absolutely kind and he did grow up here.

Entering Jeulgeoum, you're thankful for the heat that rushes to your cheeks as soon as you step in.

"My mom likes glass figurines." Hoseok says as he closes the door shut behind you.

There was glass as far as the eye can see and your first thought is do not fucking touch anything. You will not let your clumsiness embarrass you today.

"Welcome to Jeul- Jung Hoseok?!" The warm voice makes you turn your head and you feel yourself relaxing at the older woman as she smiles widely at the sight of him.

"Hi Mrs. Kim! Merry Christmas!" he says, pulling down the hood of his coat.

His black hair is sticking up at odd ends and you notice how endearing it is. His smile is wide, cheekbones bouncing up to the heavens as the woman gasps.

"Oh my goodness! Merry Christmas!" she cheers, rounding the register to get a good look at him.

Awkwardly, you look around at the glass pieces.

"Well you've gotten so big! It feels like almost yesterday I was kicking you out of my shop with the back of a broom." you smirk at her words, you can't imagine Hoseok running in here like a bull in a China shop.

"And who is this?" your heart begins to beat faster and you look at Hobi as his smile becomes warm.

"This is my friend, Y/N." he slings his arm over your shoulder for good measure.

You bow your head to Mrs. Kim taking off your hood. Her chubby cheeks are jolly and sweet as she bows her head back to you.

"Well, aren't you just gorgeous. A friend or a girlfriend?" Mrs. Kim quips as she rounds the register once more.

Her question makes you blush fiercely, your neck heating up quicker than a fireplace ever could.

"Just a friend. A really, really good friend." he replies as his hand drifts over your shoulder comfortably.

Mrs. Kim hums playfully and you feel him tug at your body. "Let's look for something."

Your eyes are enraptured by the glass figures. They're so incredibly detailed and gorgeously cut. It's really a wonderful skill.

"She makes all of these?" you find yourself asking, your hand reaches for a figure but you back away quickly at the simple thought of breaking it.

"Oh, yeah. Mrs. Kim is an artist with this stuff. I made one once when I was younger. Come look." Pulling you down the long aisles, you reach a glass case at the back of the store.

"All of the kids in town could make one when they turned ten," his eyes glance over the figures before he's snapping his fingers and pointing. "That's mine," he says happily.

Your eyes narrow at the small figure and you tilt your head at it. You try to be polite, humming inquisitively as you stare.

"It's supposed to be a…" No words come to mind as you look at the jagged and misshapen pieces that are seemingly glued together.

"It's the Hulk," he says proudly and you nod slowly, your eyebrows furrowing.

"I… see," you murmur to yourself.

"I'm just kidding, this shit is ugly. I have no idea what the fuck I was making," he says and you elbow him in the ribs with a giggle as you stand up straight.

Looking up at him, it's almost as if you're noticing his eyes for the first time. Cinnamon colored irises with flecks of coffee that send a warmth spreading throughout your chest.

"Come on. My mom really likes snow globes," he says with a wink.

The selection of snow globes was actually surprising. The one that catches your attention first is a small boy standing on one leg as he skates around a pond. The town in the background is so tiny and for some reason it reminds you of the man standing beside you.

Without a second thought, you reach for it and you find Hoseok's hand on top of yours.

Pulling your hand away from the warmth of his, you find yourself smiling almost to an embarrassing state.

"Great minds think alike," he quips as he picks it up.

You snort gently, a breathy noise as he inspects the snow globe closer.

"Looks like me," he decided before pulling you towards the register.

"One Jung Hoseok looking snow globe to go please," he jokes as he pulls out his wallet.

"Hobi," you complain as you pull out yours.

Grabbing your wallet, he stuffs it into his back pocket before opening up his.

"It won't be my present if you pay for it!" you whine gently as he leans up against the counter.

"It's from the both of us," he says as he hands Mrs. Kim his credit card.

Rolling your eyes, you watch the small flecks of fake snow swirl around the snow globe. Maybe Christmas with Hobi isn't so bad.

It wasn't a long drive from Jeulgeoum to his family house. But, every inch closer you seemed to get, your nervousness was reaching an all level high.

What if his parents didn't like you? What if you were just intruding on their special holiday plans?

"Hey," Hoseok calls to you as he pulls off of the long road. Rows of houses begin to line the street and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Looking over at him, he slows down the car.

"You okay?" he asks, concerned.

"What? Yes. No, I'm fine," you say quickly and he can hardly believe you at this point.

"Whoa. Whoa," he pulls over the car before turning fully to you.

Your eyes focus on a blown up Santa that seems to sway in the chilly December breeze.

"You're going to have a lot of fun. Believe me, and I know you don't do fun. My parents are really, really nice people. You aren't intruding and you aren't unwelcome. I promise. You'll see," he says as he puts his hand on your knee.

You feel him squeeze gently and you find yourself calming down almost immediately.

"Okay," you whisper softly.

"Okay," he replies as he gives your knee one more squeeze.

Parking in front of his childhood home, you can see your friend relax. Almost as if he's been on a long journey and he's finally comfortable again.

The house is big, Christmas lights strung up from the gutters and down the columns that hold up the facade of the house.

"My mom always goes crazy with decorations," he says as he opens up the car door.

He's not wrong, a multitude of lit up statues litter the front lawn but they're all perfectly positioned.

Your favorite is the snowman standing right before the walkway.

Hoseok smirks to himself as he gathers your bags from the backseat.

"It's pretty," you find yourself saying as you climb out of the car.

Tugging your coat closer to your body, something about this feels sweet. Your parents were never that big into holidays and they always leapt at the chance to go somewhere warmer as soon as the temperature dropped.

You find yourself realizing that you've never really had a true Christmas. Or, one like the movies, anyway.

"Hold your snow globe," Hoseok calls to you as he puts the neatly wrapped package on the hood of the car.

You grab the package, holding on to it for dear life as he slings bags over his shoulders.

You didn't pack much but two bags is still a bit much to have on top of his own.

"I'll carry my bags," you tell him as you walk around the Hyundai.

He frowns as you hold your hand out.

"You're going to get me in trouble," he jeers and you shake your hand almost impatiently.

Rolling his eyes, he gives you your bags and he watches as you haul them over your shoulder.

"I can carry them, y'know. I'm not broken," he says as he walks by your side towards his house.

"I'm not broken either," you counter and he chuckles to himself.

Stepping in front of the snowman, he tugs off his scarf. He wraps the warm fabric around its neck before smirking.

"Now he's ready for Christmas." The act makes you smile and he winks at you as you walk up the long walkway towards the house.

You take large, deep breaths as shadows flit by the windows.

"Just enjoy yourself," Hoseok tells you as he jogs up the steps of the patio.

He checks on you once more, rubbing his hand over your arm before knocking on the door.

The sound frays your nerves as you clutch tighter onto the gift box in your hand.

You can hear animated talking behind the front door. As the door opens, you find yourself smiling as Hoseok throws his arms around who you assume is his mother.

"Merry Christmas!" he cries out happily and she replies with a giggle.

"Merry Christmas, my Seok," he chuckles as he squeezes her tight to his body.

Pulling away, her eyes find yours and the smile she gives is so like Hoseok's you suddenly feel comfortable. Running her fingers through her black bob cut, she looks you over before frowning.

"Yah. Why is she carrying her own bags?" his mother chides to her son.

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before folding his arms, "I told you, you got me in trouble."

With a smirk, you shrug to him.

"Merry Christmas, Y/N! We've heard so much about you! You're very welcome here," his mother says as she hugs you tightly.

It takes you a second, not quite used to parental affection, before you're hugging her back.

"Who's that?! My smelly brother?" you hear from inside and you giggle as Hoseok grimaces.

"Hi noona!" he calls loudly from the doorway.

"Come in, come in." his mom ushers you in and he holds his arm out for you to go in first.

How gentlemanly.

You can smell spices in the air, can hear animated talking and it feels strange to be in such a comforting atmosphere. You've never had this in your life.

"Thank you so much for letting me come, Mrs. Jung." you say softly as Hobi pulls the bags from your shoulder.

Taking off her apron, she clicks her teeth.

"Nonsense. We've heard all about you from Seok, it's like we know you already. And, please, call me Eunsook," she says as his father stands up from the couch.

You're used to sons shaking their fathers hands. Taehyung and Jimin do it on the regular so it's weird to see Hoseok hug his father so tightly.

"Welcome home, kid." he says before pulling away.

Mr. Jung looks over at you, a kind smile plastered on his face as he leans in for a hug.

"Welcome Y/N. Please, call me Baekgu," you nod as he pats your back gently.

"Thank you for being so welcoming," you whisper.

"Okay, let's not overwhelm her. It must be odd to be surrounded by new people. Why don't you both go upstairs and get comfortable. Then, when you come down maybe Y/N can help me make my sugar cookies." Hoseok was raised so well by his folks.

"I'd love that," you reply earnestly.

"Come on," Hoseok whispers in your ear.

Starting to pad up the carpeted steps, he turns his attention to his mother as she calls his name.

"You'll be sharing a room, hope you don't mind. The extra guest bedroom was converted to a home office," your eyes widen as you stare down at the carpet.

"Oh Jesus," you whisper fiercely to yourself.

Hoseok chuckles uncomfortably as he pulls the bags tighter to his shoulder.

His childhood bedroom is nothing like you thought it would be. Most kids, including yourself, had posters covering every inch of the walls but not his room. It's chic and stylish which isn't far off from how he is now.

You can hear gentle Christmas music wafting through the slightly cracked door as you look at his bed.

You've slept in the same room before while studying or if you all drank too much. But, you've never slept in the same bed as him. And, you've never been alone with each other.

"This'll be fun," he sounds confident and you're not sure if he's trying to mask nervousness with his tone.

"Yeah," you reply breathlessly as you sit on the edge of the bed.

You hear the bags thump onto the ground and you can hardly believe that you're here.

"They're nice, right?" Hobi asks as he shrugs off his coat.

"So nice, no wonder you grew up so well," you say, earning a smile from him.

"Get comfortable and then we'll head back downstairs. My mom must really like you, not even my sister gets to help her make sugar cookies," he calls as he enters the en suite bathroom.

Looking down at your knees, you find yourself smiling. How have you never noticed how precious he is before?

"Y/N! They're coming out perfectly!" Eunsook cheers delighted as she peeks into the oven.

She's so cheery, it's kind of amazing. Your eyes flit to the open living room watching as Hoseok sits beside his father watching Home Alone.

This is so… normal. So perfectly normal. You've never done this before with your parents. You've never felt 'at home' or comfortable around them and they gave birth to you.

"So Y/N," Dawon, Hoseok's sister, calls to you as she fills up your glass with more red wine, "Hoseok never shuts up about you."

"Noona!" Hoseok yells from the living room without even turning his head.

You smirk fondly as you lean down on the island counter.

"What does he say?" you find yourself whispering.

She tilts her head, fingers carding through her brown hair as she leans in. “Mostly how perfect you are.”

“Noona!” Hoseok yells once more and you find yourself smiling above the lip of your glass.

“Hobi is really great. I’m really lucky to have a friend like him,” you reply.

You feel a hand drift over your lower back as he walks into the room.

“Oh, Hobi is it?” Dawon jeers to him.

“Shut up,” he whispers in her ear through clenched teeth before opening up the fridge and grabbing a beer.

She holds her free hand up, a perfect smile plastered on to her face.

“Hoseok tells us all the time how happy he is to have found such a good friend. But, he never told us how gorgeous you are.” Eunsook says, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel that is over her shoulder.

“Yes I did,” he replies as he cracks open the bottle cap.

The warmth that radiates over your neck makes you clear your throat. He really has spoken about you to his family. It’s pretty special in your opinion. He could talk about so many other things but he chose to talk about you?

“When?” Dawon counters as she sits up on the barstool.

“All the time,” he mumbles as he throws the bottle cap into the garbage.

“All you told me was that Y/N was so beautiful and you’re so lucky that you get to spend time with her even when Taehyung and Jimin aren’t around,” your eyes find him as he pushes his sister with his shoulder like a warning.

“Yeah… Well… Dad? Did you call me?” he asks, craning his neck to the living room.

“No.” Baekgu calls back but you can hear the humor lacing his voice.

“Oh, that’s so weird. I thought you definitely called me,” Hoseok says, pushing off the kitchen island with widening eyes as he scurries back to the living room.

You find yourself chuckling at his antics and you watch as the legs of your thick red wine slowly make their way back down to the glass.

“Hoseok is amazing. You raised him so well,” you tell Eunsook as she pours herself a glass of wine.

She hums in agreement watching as Hoseok sits down beside his father. “Yes. He was always such a good boy. Hopefully he can find a girlfriend that appreciates him like we all do.”

You nod slowly and it’s the first time anyone around Hoseok mentions a girlfriend. You didn’t even think of that. But, just the notion makes you uncomfortable and you gulp a large mouthful of the red wine to steady yourself.

“You’d be a good girlfriend, of course.” Dawon says flippantly as she clutches the red wine to her chest.

“Noona!” you hear Hoseok scream and all three of you laugh gently as the timer dings signifying the cookies are done baking.

Sitting down at dinner, you find yourself staring into the pot of stew as the others talk around you. Why haven't you ever given much thought to Hobi who’s been by your side for so long now? Eunsook bringing up him getting a girlfriend earlier seemed so far beyond your imagination. But, you couldn’t even imagine him being in a relationship. You couldn’t imagine him not being with you or the other guys anymore. You couldn’t imagine him not being by your side.

“You’re thinking too hard.” Hoseok whispers in your ear.

“Huh?” you ask as you turn your head to him.

“Eat.” He murmurs with a smile, nodding his head to your bowl. You hum in response as you pick up your spoon.

You feel his knee press against your thigh and it’s become a constant that you welcome so dearly. It grounds you, in all honesty. Brings you back to reality.

“So, Y/N. Seok tells me that your parents went on vacation for Christmas.” Baekgu says as he sets down his spoon.

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. “Yeah. My parents don’t really like the cold or… festivities so they usually just go away for most major holidays.” You reply as you tuck into your stew.

Eunsook hums curiously and you know you should probably feel embarrassed but you’re already so comfortable here that it doesn’t seem to bother you as much.

“Well, you can come here for any holidays. If Hoseok starts coming without you then I’ll be very sad. You’re a great girl,” his mother says with a smile.

This is family. And, you can’t believe you’ve never really had one before.

Hoseok smirks down into his bowl before pouring you another glass of wine. “See. Told you,” he whispers in your ear.

By the end of the evening, you found yourself laughing loudly and listening attentively which is something that doesn’t come easily to you.

Hoseok probably has never heard you laugh so earnestly and the noise is just as gorgeous as you are.

Leaning back against the arm of the couch, he watches you as you listen to Dawon. God, you don’t even know how amazing you are. But, he does. He always has known. You were in every one of his classes and he found it so difficult to pay attention with you around him.

You were so opinionated. So smart. So beautiful. You were everything he loved and you couldn't even see it.

He smiles as you press your thigh against his knee. Even if he could only ever be your friend, he’d be okay with that because being around you was worth it all. Every single second.

“So Hoseok thinks it would be funny to throw my favorite doll out the window. So what do I do? I threw his action figures up onto the roof and he was crying for hours and hours until dad went up with a ladder to go grab them.” Dawon says animatedly and you giggle along with Eunsook as she tells the story.

Turning your head to Hobi, you find he’s already staring at you. His cinnamon irises are alight with warmth and joy. It makes something bloom inside of you, something so precious and perfect.

“She’s missing out on the detail where I threw her doll out the window because she tripped me up the stairs,” he mumbles as he brings his beer bottle to his lips.

"It was an accident!" she counters from underneath the Christmas tree.

"I was five. Nothing was an accident back then," he chuckles as you giggle, leaning back into the comfort of the couch.

"Yeah, well I was nine and it was an accident."

You hear them continue to bicker as you stare at the fireplace. The embers burn hot, rising high into the air. You watch the logs crackle, small veins burning bright oranges and reds. Feeling Hoseok's hand absentmindedly pressing to your back, you tilt your head to the lip of the couch.

You wouldn't want him to get a girlfriend. You wouldn't want to be without him.

He takes away all your loneliness and your pain. He makes you smile and he makes you happy. He makes you think that just being in his presence, it's like being with someone that's your own.

"Let's go up to bed," he whispers in your ear.

You force yourself to sit up, eyes ripping away from the fire.

"Good night," you tell his parents and they reply with the same.

"Use prot-" Dawon's voice is cut off by Hoseok as he follows you to the stairs.

"Noona!" he calls quickly, narrowing his eyes at her as she giggles.

"My sister can be annoying sometimes. I'm sorry," he says as he closes the bedroom door behind you both.

You smile fondly as you sit down on the bed. "I really like your sister. She's incredible."

He hums with a chuckle as he takes off his shirt.

"Yeah. Okay," he quips back.

Your eyes rake over his toned upper body. The way his abs press against his golden skin has you averting your eyes so quickly. Suddenly, it feels like it's a thousand degrees in here.

"Why'd you invite me?" you find yourself asking as he throws on an oversized t-shirt.

Stopping in his tracks to the bathroom, he turns on one heel to look at you.

"Because you deserve to be with loving people for the holidays or just in general, really," he answers you with a raised eyebrow.

"So you were taking pity on me? I'm a charity case," you whisper.

Maybe it's all the wine or maybe it's just how insecure you truly are but this is coming out of nowhere and you can't stop it.

"What? No. Of course I'm not taking pity on you. I wanted to spend Christmas with you," he replies, confused.

"Really? Because it feels like maybe you're just entertaining me because I had nowhere to go. Maybe you should have brought a girlfriend or something!"

Ah, there it is. It's jealousy. The combination of jealousy and wine is not a fearsome friend to you, apparently.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asks, appalled as he leans against the door frame of his bathroom.

"You should have brought Hana or Jaeeun with you, they like you and want to be your girlfriend," you say as your toes dig into the carpeting beneath you.

He scoffs loudly, his head lolling back at the simple mention of the other girls.

"I don't want Hana or Jaeeun to meet my fucking parents! I wanted you to meet my parents!" he counters as he walks towards you.

"Why me? So I could see what I'm missing in my own family?!" you ask, standing up.

"No! I wanted you to meet my family because I fucking love you!" he yells as he steps in front of you.

Oh.

You blink slowly at his confession. The only sound in the room is his ragged breathing and you stare at his neck as it begins to flush pink.

"Jesus Christ," he mumbles, his fingers carding through his hair as he takes a deep breath.

He goes to walk away but you grab onto his shirt to keep him in front of you.

"You love me?" you ask softly, almost as if you can't believe what you've heard.

"Yeah. Of course I fucking do. Don't be ridiculous. I've always loved you, since Advanced Science in freshman year. I was so pissed when Jaemin asked you out before I could. And then I was even more pissed when that son of bitch cheated on you. Because you don't deserve that. You deserve everything. And even if I'm just your friend, I still try to give it to you," his admission is like a loaded hand grenade that's been thrown at your feet.

"Hobi," you whisper and he runs his hands over his face.

"I don't want your pity or whatever it is you think you're going to give me," he mumbles as his eyes flutter shut.

Looking up at his face, you watch his perfectly shaped lips part for breath. You've always been so dense to not realize it. Everything that he does when you're together, it's all for you. It's all to make you smile. To make you happy.

Standing up on the tips of your toes, you press your lips to his. He shudders against your lips, eyes widening for a second before cupping the sides of your head.

He pulls you closer, deepening the kiss as his thumbs graze over the apples of your cheeks.

With a gentle sigh, you feel your body relax and melt against his.

He's always been for you. Even if it's taken you this long to understand.

"Y/N." Hobi whispers against your lips confused but you silence him again with another kiss.

He moans against your lips gently, pushing you down into the bed as his fingers intertwined into your hair.

"What are you telling me?" he asks as you run your hand over his arms.

"That I'm yours," you reply.

That was the first holiday he brought love into your heart.

Every holiday afterwards was just as perfect.

He kept up stupid traditions that were so corny that you couldn't help but love. Even making Arbor day special. Yeah. Arbor day. He bought a sapling just for you both to plant on the campus before you graduated so there was always something blooming from where you first met.

He's lovesick and adoring. And, he's all yours.

You loved spending Christmas and Chuseok with him. You've grown to love his family like your own and even five years later nothing has changed. He was so perfectly yours every second of the day.

"Baby girl," you hear from the bedroom. Your head turns to your husband's voice and you smile at how whiney he sounds.

"What's wrong?" you ask as you get up from the couch.

"What sounds better, deck my balls or stop staring at my presents?" Hoseok asks as he holds up two of his ugly Christmas sweaters.

You grimace, leaning against the doorjamb as he smiles widely.

"You are not wearing those to the cabin," you tell him.

With a pout, he tosses the sweaters onto your bed. "And, why not? They're festive."

"They're an abomination. If you wear those sweaters, I'm not sucking your dick until the New Year," you retort as he wraps his arms around you.

"No ugly sweaters. Got it. Yes, ma'am," he mumbles as he leans down to kiss you. Giggling into the kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck.

"I feel bad that we aren't going to your parents this year," you whisper against him and he wrinkles his nose cutely at your words.

"Well, we should have a Christmas all to ourselves sometimes too, baby. We're married now, we have to make traditions for ourselves too," you hum in agreement as he hugs you tightly.

"Can I bring the 'it's not going to lick itself' candy cane shirt?" he asks with a gorgeous smile.

"I will hit you," you threaten as he pulls away.

Holding up his hands, he chuckles to himself before going back to packing your bags.

The journey up to the cabin is peaceful. You stare at the snow covered limbs on the trees as you continue to drive down the long road.

You feel Hobi squeeze your hand and your eyes are on him in seconds.

"I love spending the holidays with you," he says, bringing your hand up to his lips.

With a smile, you angle your body closer to his upon instinct.

"I kind of really love you," you tell him as he looks over at you.

"Such a weird coincidence. I was thinking I kind of loved you too," he jokes as he looks back at the road.

Pulling up to the cabin, you take in the absolute splendor of it. It's so simplistic and so welcoming. Icicles and snow dot the edges of the awning. You breathe a happy sigh, your breath fogging up in front of you signifying just how cold it is.

Pulling your coat tighter to your body, you watch the man you love gather the multitude of bags from the back of the car.

"Let me help you," you insist as you walk around the car.

"Back off, woman. This is your man's job to do.” Rolling your eyes, you fold your arms as he drapes bag strap after bag strap over his upper body.

"Carry this," he says, handing you a bag of groceries.

You feel the light weight of it before peeking inside.

"This just has bread in it," you say confused.

"Exactly. You hold the bread," he says finitely before slamming the trunk down.

Tossing you the keys to the cabin, he looks up at the wooden house before smiling.

"This is perfect," he whispers to himself.

"Fuck, it's cold." You complain as you enter the cabin. The wooden boards creak under your feet as you step inside. It's so homey in here. So completely domestic.

"Can you put the groceries away while I light a fire?" Hoseok asks you sweetly.

You nod with a giddy smile as he throws your bags down on the large bed.

The fake Christmas tree is kind of adorable with lights strung up in the corner as well as all of the gingham patterns that surround you.

"How do I light this?" Hoseok calls and you snort gently as you start unpacking the groceries.

"With gasoline?" you ask confused, tossing stuff into the fridge.

"You want me to blow up the cabin? I got a renter's fee,” he asks appalled and you shrug with a chuckle.

You watch him as he crouches before the fireplace, how breathtaking he is. You can feel your stomach flipping and coiling with each passing second as you stare.

You were his and he is yours.

When he turns to you and he gives you a smile, you can see the small dimple below his bottom lip that sends a smile spreading over your own face.

He's always had the most gorgeous bone structure. His cheekbones are so high and the apples of his cheeks are so plump in all the right ways.

You find yourself leaning down on the counter with your elbows as your fists tuck beneath your chin.

"Hey!" he cheers as the wood catches on fire.

You giggle, watching as he thrusts his hand in the air.

Shrugging off his coat, he stands up tall. His body proportions are so astounding.

Finally, his eyes meet yours and he tilts his head to you. His eyes flutter shut as he gives you a wide smile.

"You're such a bad worker," he jeers as he walks toward you.

You hum in agreement as you stand back up.

He helps you toss the rest of your groceries into the fridge before wrapping his arms around your waist as you slam the refrigerator closed.

"This is perfect," he whispers in your ear, pressing his chest to your back.

With a smirk, you look around the cabin and you find it hard to disagree.

"Everything with you is perfect," you reply as he squeezes you tight.

"Now you're just saying that to flatter me," he jokes into your ear.

Cuddling up on the sofa, you lay your head on his shoulder as you watch Home Alone. It's a Christmas tradition for Hobi you've come to love. He's watched it every year since he was six.

"They've got good reception up here," he announces as you sip your wine.

"Yeah, they d-" Fatal last words as the electricity cuts out.

Hoseok sits up as the cabin creaks loudly with the sounds of harsh blowing winds.

His head turns to the window and you crawl off of him.

"Oh no," he mumbles, walking towards the windows.

Pulling back the curtains, you watch as large snowflakes fall onto the ground.

"It's a blizzard," he tells you with a wince.

Standing up, you sip your wine as you walk to his side.

The snow is piling up generously and you have a dull, nervous feeling aching throughout your chest.

Your husband gets to work, lighting candles around the cabin like it's his job.

"This is what happens when we don't go to your parents’ house," you sing as you help him light a few candles.

"This is going to ruin my plans," he grumbles to himself before throwing another log into the fire.

Opening the front door to the cabin, you can feel the harsh chill as it whips around outside.

"Oh Hoseok!" you call to him and he turns to the doorway before sighing gently.

There's a wall of snow built up at the door and it looks like you would not be going anywhere for awhile.

"We're snowed in," he mutters before running his fingers through his hair.

You decide to close the door as another breeze bursts through. Turning to your husband, you watch as he picks at some skin on his lip.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," you can hear the sadness enrapturing his voice and it's jarring.

It's rare to ever hear him sad. You don't like it.

"It's okay. We can just lay down and cuddle," you say, setting down your glass of wine on the counter.

You open up your arms to him, wanting a hug and wanting to give him some peace of mind.

He pulls you in, cradling your head to his chest with his hand as he looks around the dim cabin.

"I had plans for us. To go out and build a snowman. To go into town tomorrow and watch the caroling," he murmurs, dejectedly.

You hum as you pull him over to the large bed. "Christmas with you is perfect just on it's own. I don't need all those things to be happy. I have you."

It astounds him sometimes how much you've broken out of your shell.

He pulls back the gingham comforter, letting you crawl into bed first. And then, he's quick to crawl in behind you.

His arm wraps around your waist as he presses his chest flush to your back.

Your fingers begin to play with his, staring at the olden looking paintings that line the walls.

"I can remember the first time I ever saw you," Hoseok whispers in your ear as he cuddles closer to you.

A smirk begins to spread on your face as he kisses the shell of your ear.

"It was in Biology. You were wearing a black hoodie and those black skinny jeans. You didn't have a backpack and you didn't even have a pen. You flipped your notebook open and just fell asleep," you giggle at his words, hearing his smile widen with each word he says.

"I did like to sleep in Biology," you quip.

"But, you always passed the class. You never got lower than a ninety on a test. I was jealous, I used to think to myself, 'Damn. This woman is so fucking smart.' Then I saw you in Advanced Science. That's where you really paid attention. You used to twirl your hair and your finger when you were thinking hard about something," you hum as your eyes flutter shut.

The warmth of his breath spreads over your neck as he buries his face.

"I told Taehyung the first day I saw you without even knowing you were his best friend, 'I'm gonna marry that woman. I'm gonna have kids with her.' I was so… enraptured by you," he breathes out as his hand splays over your stomach.

You can only smile as he presses his hips harder to your backside.

"I was so fucking angry when that guy broke your heart… I can't even remember his name anymore but, I can remember how hurt you were. How broken you were and you didn't deserve it in the least. I wanted to fucking kill him," his hand begins to trail below the hem of your shirt and you shiver at how chilly his skin is.

"I was so fucking happy when you were coming home with me for Christmas our first year. You were so nervous. But, I knew you would love my family and that they would love you. I used to talk about you all the time. My mom would ask me how school was and my first thought would be to tell her how much fun I had with you during a study session or something," your eyes flutter shut as his hand ascends.

"Sounds like you were too busy paying attention to girls than to focus on school," you joke breathlessly as you press your ass against his crotch.

You can hear him moan gently against your ear, his perfect teeth graze your lobe and your lips press into a straight line.

"Then you got into that fight with me in my bedroom. Telling me to take other girls home with me for the holidays. I was so angry that you would even insinuate something like that.  And then… then you kissed me. And, I melted. Like snow on the first day of spring," he nibbles on your lobe, his growing erection digging into the globe of your ass.

You moan gently as you feel him grow hard behind you. Your stomach begins to flare with desire. Loins curling with aching need.

"I remember the first time I ever touched your body. You were wearing a blood red thong. Your skin was so flushed for me. Begging me to touch you," his breath is heavier now and you can hear him groan wantonly at the memory.

His hand cups your breast, squeezing gently as he kisses over your shoulder.

"You were so hard," you reply as he presses his now fully hardened erection between your ass cheeks.

"You always make me so fucking hard," he retorts as his free hand pulls yours to his crotch.

"Oh," you whisper breathlessly as he ruts against your palm.

You can feel the thin fabric of his pajamas becoming wet and sticky with precum. Rolling his tongue over your neck, he flips you onto your back.

In the fireplace glow, you watch his black hair fall into his eyes. His pupils blown out with lust, the cinnamon irises you love so deeply growing smaller by the second.

His perfect lips part and his eyes fall to your lips. They linger for a second before he's kissing you passionately.

The tip of his tongue licks over the seam of your lips and you part for him with a whine. His hand grips your breast harder, groaning long and low into the kiss as his tongue runs over yours.

Your hips buck up, your arousal starting to seep from you. You can feel your pussy clenching around nothing, begging to be filled by your husband.

He pulls away for only a second, taking off his shirt with hurried hands before he's kissing you once more.

Your fingers graze over his golden skin, the feeling producing goosebumps on his body.

You can remember how gorgeous his chest was when you were in his childhood bedroom that first Christmas. How his abs pressed and flexed beneath his skin. Nothing has changed.

Running your fingertips over the plains of his stomach, he gasps into your mouth gently, a carnal needy sound that sends you whimpering below him.

"Oh fuck," he whispers through gritted teeth.

You can smell his gentle cologne as his lips drift over your jawline. He smells of alderwood and citrus. The scent is so wholly him and so perfect.

"Get this off," you hear him command in your ear as he tugs on your tank top.

With a whimper, you sit up on your elbows discarding the fabric and his eyes harden at the state of you beneath him.

"Fuck," he curses before his lips are back on your skin.

Your legs part for him as he situates himself between them. His hands reach behind your back as he kisses down the column of your neck, slowly pulling down your bra straps.

He leaves his marks, pretty red and pink patches that signify you as his.

"I want everything with you. I want it all," he whispers against your collarbone.

"You have me," you reply as you card your fingers through his hair.

"I want to have a baby," he says as he pulls away from your skin.

Your heart begins to thud faster in the recesses of your chest. You've mentioned it in passing, you've commented on it in short spurts but you've never talked about it.

If it just happened, it happened. But, to hear him say it. For those words to pass his lips, you can feel yourself almost becoming euphoric.

"I want you to have my baby inside of you. Want to feel my baby growing in your belly," his voice is almost a plea and your hips lift at the needy sound.

"Yes," you reply.

His lips are on your fiercely once more, kissing your lips red and raw as he tugs off your bra with feral desire.

His hands palm your breasts, thumbs lovingly swiping over your hardening nipples. Gasping into his mouth, he swallows the sound.

He kisses down the valley of your breasts and you can feel his erection throbbing with desire against your clothed thigh.

"God, you're so beautiful, sweetheart," he sounds almost drunk off of his desires and you lick your reddened lips as he lowers his head.

His tongue runs circles over your nipple, your back arches with a moan and he wastes no time sliding his hand beneath your back to hold you up against him.

His lips pluck at your nipple, free hand pinching and rolling the other dexterously between his fingertips.

You feel almost crazy from his love. You can feel the desire pumping through your veins like each and every time before.

"Hobi!" you whimper out as your head lolls back.

"That's it, sweetheart," he whispers above your breast before showing the same treatment to the other.

You feel so hyper aware, especially when his hand glides over your stomach and downward. He pulls at the hem of your leggings, letting the fabric slap back to your skin with a gentle sting. You gasp with anticipation, your hips wiggling at the simple thought of being naked before him.

"Behave, sweetheart," he reminds you and you bite your lower lip, raising your hips patiently.

He kisses over the skin of your stomach, fingers enmeshing in the sides of your leggings and underwear before tugging roughly.

Strings of arousal break and cling to your thighs and your sodden lower lips.

"There she is," he mumbles, throwing your pants over your shoulder flippantly.

His back bows down, arms looping over your thighs locking you in place.

Licking his lips, he looks over your body like you're a meal. Your skin is flushed with wanting and your pussy begins to weep at the sight of him between your thighs.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" he asks rhetorically, just to hear the words fall from your lips.

You open your mouth to reply but it isn't fast enough for his liking, slapping the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. You mewl loudly, back bowing off the bed as you spread your legs wider.

"I want you to eat my pussy. It hurts," you whine, nestling your fingers in his hair.

He hums gently, watching your breath hitch in your throat. He gives you a smirk, one that sends your sex weeping more for him.

He rears his head back, his index and middle finger splaying open your lips with a V motion.

"Your little clit is so swollen, baby. You want me to touch you?" he teases and you nod enthusiastically as you grip his hair harder.

He groans softly at the feeling, his eyes on your breasts as he spits on your sodden cunt.

You shiver at the feeling, lips parting for air as he watches his spittle mix with your arousal.

"God, you're fucking soaked," his voice is that of wonder. You sink down into the bed as he licks a flat stripe up your swollen cunt.

Whimpering his name, your eyes flutter shut.

"Open your eyes. Watch me eat your pretty pussy so well," he commands.

With opening eyes, you moan loudly as he begins to ravage you. His tongue is so fast against your cunt, flicking and pressing into your swollen clit.

"H-Hobi! Fuck!" you cry out as your legs try to press to either side of his head.

His biceps ripple and strain as he holds you apart, suckling and flicking at your bundle of nerves. You find yourself babbling almost incoherently, begging for more as your hips raise.

"Filthy little thing," he whispers against your cunt, his hand leaves your thigh to finger at your tight entrance.

He teases you for what feels like an eternity before thrusting a finger inside of you.

"So tight," he sounds breathless, his cheeks and lips tainted with your arousal.

The sight is almost a visual overload, your hips buck and a loud whine emits from you as you look down at him.

Curling his finger up, he watches how blissed out you are before him. His cock strains against the fabric of his pajamas and he moans softly against your throbbing bud.

"Tell me how much you want my baby," he commands before spitting on your twitching sex.

You can feel your insides bubbling, your stomach flipping and feeling heavy within you as your orgasm approaches.

With a muddled mind and hoarse voice you reply, "S-So badly. Want to have your baby so badly, H-Hobi. I want to give you a baby."

Pleased with your answer, he slides a second finger into your heat. His fingers brush against the soft patch of nerves within you so fast, you feel the air escaping your lungs at a rapid pace.

"You beg to cum for me, sweetheart. Don't forget that. I own this pussy," he reminds you as he pinches your clit.

He watches your hips roll, he hears his name tumble out of your lips like a prayer and he knows just how close to release you are.

When you give him your pleasure, it's like art. So beautiful and so defined.

"Who does this pussy belong to?"

"Y-You! Only you!" you whine as your eyes squeeze shut.

You can feel the pleasure course through your bones. You can feel your mouth going dry as the bubble inside of you threatens to burst.

"Wanna cum! Please! So close!" you beg as you grip his hair harder.

He can feel your pussy clenching around his fingers rhythmically, begging to release.

"Hold it," he instructs as he pinches your clit once more.

Shaking your head, pleasurable tears spring to your eyes. "Want to cum so badly for you. Want to have my pussy open for your cock and cum."

He shivers at your words, tongue lapping at your arousal like a man starved.

"Hobi… Baby, please! I need to cum!" you beg your husband as he adds a third finger.

He watches your chest heave, your breasts thrust up to the sky with stiff peaked nipples that beg for attention. Was there anyone more gorgeous? He can't possibly think so.

"Cum," he commands and you fall back down to the bed.

You orgasm around his fingers, your moans echo off of the cabin walls as you call his name.

With spotty eyes and deaf ears, you can feel him pull out of you.

You feel drunk from pleasure, your head swimming. Hoseok wipes the tears off your cheeks, entering his cum soaked fingers into his mouth.

He moans at your taste, licking up every drop of arousal he can get.

"Shit, you taste so fucking good," he whispers.

Sitting up on your elbows, you focus on his crotch. His fingers hook into the sides of his pants before tugging them down roughly.

His cock slaps headily to his stomach and you lick your lips at the sight.

Long and thick, his cock stands erect. It's always a welcome sight to see. The way his rose veins pepper the length and the way his bulbous head is a needy shade of pink.

Your mouth waters as the seam of his cock begins to spurt more precum. You watch it traipse down lazily towards his balls with rapt fascination.

"Come here," he whispers softly, sitting back on the balls of his feet.

His hands palm your breasts, fingertips plucking at your nipples as you kiss over his chest.

He sighs so gently, almost in disbelief that you're still in front of him naked five years later.

"I can't wait till your tits swell with milk. I want to taste it," he sounds so hopeful, so absolutely enraptured in his dream.

As you lick over his abs, he takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. His eyes rolling back as he palms your breasts rougher.

"Y/N," he moans softly and you practically mewl at the sound.

You take his cock in hand, feeling it twitch with need. He groans loudly as you begin to pump along his shaft, feeling his velvety smooth skin quiver with wanting.

Hoseok grips your hair, making a make-shift ponytail for you before running his thumb over your cheekbone.

"I love you," his words are so sincere, dripping with ardent desire.

"I love you too," you reply.

Swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, you moan at the taste of his precum. You can feel his shudder above you, gripping your hair harder. Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, he whimpers as you slide down his shaft.

Your cheeks hollow and your hand jerks whatever doesn't fit into your mouth, sending your husband above you murmuring your name incessantly.

"Oh shit. Just like that. Your mouth feels so fucking good. Christ," he cries out as you work assiduously on his cock.

His ragged breathing sends your loins unfurling once more, begging to be touched by the man you call your own.

"Can I fuck your pretty mouth? Please," you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering shut as he wraps his hand around your head.

The first thrust is gentle, trying to pry open your throat for him. You sputter gently on him, eyes welling up with tears as you grip his thighs.

"Fuck, you look so hot. I love fucking my cock into your mouth," his thumb brushes away a tear as it trails down your cheek.

His thrusts begin to get rougher, his moans become louder. Lapping your tongue along the base of him, you feel your heart swell every time he moans or curses above you.

"Wait until your belly gets nice and big. I'm gonna use you like a little cocksleeve. Bet you'd like that wouldn't you, sweetheart? Me gripping your belly while you take my cock deep into your throat," you moan around him, excited by the idea. The vibrations your moans shoot through him makes his cock twitch in the recesses of your mouth.

"Stop, sweetheart, stop." he instructs as he tugs your hair gently.

Pulling away from him, you raise an eyebrow.

"Was it not okay?" you ask softly.

He shushes you with his lips, arms coddling around you to lay you down.

"It was perfect. I'm saving my cum for your pussy."

Spreading your legs wider with his knees, he kisses you so passionately you think your heart might have stopped.

"Shit," he whispers against your lips.

Prodding the tip of his cock to your entrance, he simply loses himself in your presence.

How long and often he's adored you before you even knew. How lucky he is to have you now.

Entering you slowly, your mouth drops open at how completely full you feel. He grunts gently at the feeling of your velvet walls around him. He kisses you leisurely, taking his time to shower you in pleasure.

Drifting his hand over your womb, he moans your name.

"Fuck baby, look at how tight your pussy is. I can see how big my cock is," he says, drawing your attention to where you're met. You can see the outline of his cock clearly within you and it sets your loins ablaze.

He groans when your cunt throbs around him, "You're going to take my baby, aren't you, sweetheart? Get nice and pregnant for me?"

You nod incessantly as he sits up on his knees. Pulling almost all the way out of you, he slaps your clit with his fingers. Raising an eyebrow, he looks you in the eye.

"Words, sweetheart. You know this," he chides as you squirm on his cock.

"Y-Yes. I'm going to take your cum and get pregnant for you. Get really big with your baby."

Pleased with your words, he thrusts deep inside of you.

Your legs hook around his hips, moaning his name like a prayer as he begins an unrelenting pace.

"Fuck, you're so tight! Shit!" he cries out.

You can feel the emotional pull then, this sexual encounter has so much meaning. Making love to Hoseok was always special but the intent behind this experience is overwhelming.

"God, you're so incredible. Who does this pussy belong to?" he asks, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust.

Hooking your ankles over his shoulders, you preen loudly as each thrust hits the soft spot within you.

"You do! You own my pussy! It's all yours!" you cry out as you grip the bedsheets on either side of you.

"That's fucking right I do," he seethes through his teeth.

The sound of wild winds hitting the cabin walls is drowned out by the fiercely pornographic moaning and obscene squelching of your cunt getting fucked,

Your husband presses one hand to your womb, letting the full feeling of his cock inside overwhelm you, and the other situated at the apex of your thighs. He rubs quick, rough circles to your clit, adoring how high and short your moans are getting.

Your cunt flutters around him, sending his eyes rolling back once more as he fucks you faster.

"Beg for it," he reminds you, a breathy moan attached to the end as his head lolls back.

He knows you so well, he can practically sense what's next.

"P-Please!" you moan feebly, your knuckles go white as your pleasure courses through you.

"That's my good girl. Fuck, you look so pretty on my cock, sweetheart. You look so gorgeous when you're about to burst," you gasp gently, the bubble inside of you expanding to the point of popping.

"Hobi, pl-please!" you beg, letting go of the sheets to grab his arms.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock, show me how badly you want my child," he concedes as his balls begin to tighten.

Your eyes scrunch closed as you orgasm the second time, you can faintly feel your arousal squirting onto his cock and thighs.

"Shit. That's so hot, good girl, sweetheart," he moans, letting up on his thrusts before pulling out.

You whine at the loss. Eyes opening, albeit they're heavy with drunken lust.

"Turn over for me," your husband whispers in your ear, staving off his oncoming orgasm by kissing and suckling the skin of your neck.

With a gentle sigh, you turn over for him. Perching your ass in the air, you bury your face into the pillow.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," Hobi says as his fingertips drift over your swollen cunt.

Gripping your hips roughly, he pulls you back to his cock without another word.

Spanking your ass hard, you can barely let out a gasp as he sinks back into your heat.

He curses loudly, rubbing the now smarting skin on the globe of your ass.

He doesn't relent as he pulls you back onto his cock. His hand reaches from your ass to the back of your neck before he's gripping with fervent need.

"God, fuck!" he curses through his teeth.

You can only feebly whimper his name into the pillow.

"You're gonna cum again for me," he insists, snaking his hand around your thigh.

"No, Hobi. It's too much!" you cry out.

"You can take it, sweetheart," he whispers and you gasp gently at the feeling of his cock throbbing so quickly inside of you.

"I can't wait until your belly is nice and big. Let everyone know I fucked my baby into you. You're gonna look so fucking gorgeous with a big belly and those pretty milk filled tits," murmuring his name incessantly, you lift your head as he rubs circles on your clit.

Looking behind you, you take in the beauty that is your husband. A thin sheen of sweat is on his body, his sideburns and bangs are stuck to his face as he fucks you for all your worth.

His eyes meet yours and your pussy clenches around his cock at the sight. With half lidded eyes, he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Hobi," you whine, tears of pleasure filling your vision as he brings you closer to your third orgasm.

"That's it, sweetheart. Say my fucking name," his hand grips harder at the back of your neck.

"Come here," he groans out, lifting your body to press flush to his chest.

Pressing his hand softly to your throat, his thumb pushes your chin towards him. Kissing you fast and rough, he groans into your mouth.

"Cum," he commands and you fall apart as his will.

His arms encircle you, keeping you upright as he fucks into you.

"Oh, baby. I'm cumming! Fuck! I'm cumming! Take it deep. Give me a baby," you hear him moan loudly in your ear. He presses his forehead to your temple, his thrusts becoming erratic and slow.

He whispers your name once more before he stills within you, finally.

You can feel the warmth of his cum rush into you as he fucks rope after rope inside.

"Oh my God," he grumbles breathlessly.

He pulls you down with him onto the bed and you can't keep yourself from giggling as he holds you so tight.

The sound of the wind is the only thing that draws both of you back to reality.

"I hope we get pregnant," he whispers into your neck.

Humming in agreement, you look out the window as snow continues to fall.

"Me too," you reply truthfully.

His fingers trace undefinable shapes on your stomach as he kisses your shoulder.

"As nice as this is maybe next year we should just go to my parents," he says with a chuckle.

Laughing along with him, you turn your body.

"Maybe that would be best," you say, jutting your thumb towards the snow covered window.

"But, hopefully we'll have a baby to bring with us next year," you can hear the hopefulness in his tone.

You can see his excitement in his tired eyes.

Christmas with Hoseok really isn't so bad.

Snowed In Taglist- @sunkissed725​

[kyun-toast]

[ATEEZ] Mafia!Hongjoong - Fateful

word count: 2.2k warnings: explicit language, gun use, death, mentions of alcohol summary: a feisty baby for a feisty scorpio a/n: I started writing this so loyal to mafia!ateez but now that I’ve watched kingdom, I’ve changed my mind - I wanna be a pirate hoe.

“You forgot your toothbrush.” You said, sat by the desk, arms crossed. “Good thing I didn’t finish unpacking right, you can take your shit just the way it came in the boxes, hmm?” You didn’t get angry very often due to the pure fact that your expectations for your boyfriend were so low at this point. The way that your words, let alone your face, held no emotion terrified the boy. He shuffled around your apartment, gathering his things with eyes to the ground in guilt.

“Can you hurry up? I have places to be.” You said, fingers massaging your temple.

Stopping in his tracks, the boy turned to you with pleading eyes for the nth time today, “Baby, I’m so sorry, please, I didn’t mean to hurt you like tha-”

“I’m sorry, what? You disrespected me, not hurt me, there’s a difference-”

“Why are you doing this to me? You know I love you.” He pleaded.

“Is that a serious question right now? You cheated with my assistant in your first week as intern at my firm, then tried and miserably failed to gaslight and manipulate me into believing your lies which I find pretty bold considering that I’m literally a lawyer. I respect the attempt though.”

“Baby, it was an acci-”

“No, shut up, I’m not done speaking. And you did this while I bought out this apartment for you because I felt bad for your sorry ass having to live with your dumb friends. I had to spoon feed you through law school and now through life too? You should be grateful that I’m letting you leave with all your things considering I bought them all too.”

He stood there with his hands gathered, staring back at the floor again.

“What. You got nothing to say? I thought so. You gonna leave now or what?” You questioned. He took his boxes, feet dragging across the floor to the door. You rolled your eyes as you closed the door on him. Before needing to look for a new intern and a new assistant, you needed a drink more than anything.

-

It was a regular Friday evening at the bar for Hongjoong and the boys. In celebration of Ateez’s successful expansion of their ‘business ventures’, Hongjoong had decided to spend the rest of the day at their usual spot. Despite having been set up for the sole purpose of laundering their dirty money, Bar 1117 was doing ironically well. Due to the nightlife business booming, Hongjoong had gained another alibi to keep him under the radar and he couldn’t be more comfortable with where his life was at.

“No, I reckon it’s Yeosang” San said, bringing the glass of whisky to his lips.

“I back that, he’s not got the emotional capacity for it.” Woo agreed, laughing.

“Yeah, just because I don’t take any of your shit doesn’t mean I’ll do the same to my wife. I bet Mingi. He’s definitely getting married last.” Yeo rebutted.

“What wh-”

Before Mingi could finish, Seonghwa cut through, “Considering our line of work, no one’s gonna be getting married any time soon. Right Joong?”

Turning to the leader of the boys, Seonghwa saw that Hongjoong had his head turned away from the conversation, eyes scanning up and down a figure at the bar. Hongjoong was never a man to be distracted by anything or anyone, always focused on his business so it was a rare occurrence for him to be looking so intently at a person. The boys catching onto this, they followed his gaze to a man sat so close to the lucky person’s face, his facial expressions showing his desperation for a way to break down their walls.

“This might be interesting…” Wooyoung smirked.

-

“I genuinely couldn’t care less.” You said, head cocked to the side in your hand, staring dead straight into the man’s eyes. However, the man had no intention of ever stopping his speech as he sat next to you at the bar.

“Come on, you really don’t know my father? He was in today’s paper?” He carried on as you zoned out of the conversation and occasionally cringed at the man’s stale breath, wondering how many more men were going to be responsible for the deepening wrinkles between your brows. As you took a sip from your drink, you locked eyes with a blonde-haired man across the room. His features were delicate yet sharp like the thorn of a rose, or a shard of glass, eyes twinkling with mischief. He raised his glass at you and smirked, amused by the situation that you were in.

“Listen here, bitch-” The man grabbed your wrist, forcing your attention back to him, “You’re gonna take the drinks I buy you, listen when I speak and sit pretty like a woman is supposed to.” He spat.

“Grrrr, scary.” You crudely imitated the growl in the man’s voice, still uninterested, “What a man your mother raised. I bet she’s proud, hmm?”

Anger radiating from the man’s body, he grabbed the glass out of your hand and threw it at the wall behind you, missing your face by inches.

“Oh, so now you’re going to scare me into sleeping with you? You need to brush up on some people skills.” You laughed, throwing you head back. You only composed yourself to grab the man’s collar, causing him to stumble off his stool. “You want to throw another glass at me? Try it.”

You hadn’t noticed the blonde-haired man stroll up to your table seeing that you were so caught up in the situation.

“Hi, I’m Hongjoong. How’s your night going? Anything I can help you with?” He asked, rubbing his hands together, surprisingly composed despite the mess. You let go of the man as the name triggered something in your head, remembering it being mentioned a few times behind closed-door meetings with your father.

“Are all the whores around here like this? I came here for some fun and this is how I’m treated? Fuck this place and every one of you here.” The man started at Hongjoong. You sat there, curling your fists ready to punch the man this time but Hongjoong noticed and interjected.

He placed his hands on the ledge of the table, leaning forward to obstruct the space between you and the man. As he did, you noticed the glimpse of a gun hanging from inside his fitted jacket, the slick shine of the metal winking at you in the light.

“I’d rather die than come to this shithole again.” The man carried on and you noticed the mischievous glint that was once in Hongjoong’s eyes finally fade to black.

“Oh, sure thing, I don’t think I want to see you here again anyway.” Hongjoong muttered and what happened in the next few seconds flew by so fast it barely registered in your brain.

The blonde-haired man reached into his jacket to pull the handgun out and shoot the man clean between the brows. At the same time, you pointed the small pistol you always kept concealed on your body at Hongjoong in reflex, having been taught to react to the sound of gunmetal in this way since you were a child.

Once you realised that the bullet wasn’t intended for you, you sensed seven pairs of eyes trained on you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw that the boys once sat at Hongjoong’s table were all stood up, half of their guns out pointed to the man, and the other half at you, the next possible threat to their leader.

It was then that you realised that this man was the leader of Ateez, Seoul’s biggest underground organization responsible for the running of the city. It may have been politicians and businessmen in the spotlight, but behind the curtains, it was Ateez pulling at their puppet strings.

“Easy with that, angel.” Hongjoong turned to you smiling and raised a hand at the boys to lower their weapons. He continued chuckling, “I felt like you might have an attitude, but I didn’t expect this from you.”

As if it were a regular occurrence, two barmen came round to dispose of the body and your eyes followed, gun still pointing at the blonde man. Using the tip of his fingers, he gently lowered your gun to point at the floor.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said, “I know some people that can sort that out.”

“Yeah those people are my paralegals paying off police in their missing persons hunts and forging their death certificates.”

Everything had fallen into place for you in that brief encounter. You knew that your father and his firm were involved in some dark business, but you never questioned it. Respecting your father’s wishes in telling you that keeping you in the dark was keeping you safe, you let it go.

However, it was only a few years ago that he had begun to tell you about his private dealings as consigliere to the organisation Ateez. That recently, his age-old friend had stepped down as mob boss and handed everything down to his son. Chuckling at how much he saw the image of his friend in the young blood, he mentioned that you would be in a similar position, that you too would be handed the law firm and become consigliere by tradition.

You had always expected to take up this mantle since you were young, as you figured that the men coming to your house for private meetings while you played in the garden did not treat you with unparalleled respect for no reason. You just didn’t realise that it would mean for you to be so heavily tied with the illicit world of the mafia then.

From then on, you trained close by your father’s side, learning the ins and outs of the world of jurisdiction, though you were never exposed directly to the ongoings with the mafia as your father had said, “the time will come when it needs to.”

“Then I guess today is the day.” You whispered to yourself smiling, you held your hand out to Hongjoong. “I’m Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my father has always spoken very highly of you.”

Confused at first, a spark was ignited in Hongjoong as the shine returned to his eyes, and the amused smirk to his lips, your name triggering something in him. Realising that you were the daughter to one of the men he most respected in his life, he took your hand and brought it to his face to kiss gently, “And it’s a pleasure to meet you too, I’ve heard a great deal about you as well, but who knew my future right-hand man would be so hot.” He said as he flashed a sly smile.

The more he observed, the flames within Hongjoong only grew as he could sense the fire in you too. The most beautiful person he had ever set eyes on was to be his consigliere? Couldn’t be any more perfect. He wondered what more you could achieve together and pictured only pure wildfire.

“You better watch your mouth Mr. Kim, unless you want to start a war between the family before I even take up my position.”

“Of course, I have nothing but respect for you and your father. I was told that I wouldn’t be meeting you until he was to step down from his position, but I guess my lucky stars have aligned perfectly tonight.”

“Also, I’m more than capable of dealing with these things myself, there was no need for you to play knight in shining armour.”

“Sure, holed up in your guarded palace of a law firm, you’ve never had experience in the real world. Things are different here and what happened at this bar is just the cusp of it, princess.” He rebutted voice dripping honey, flirting his way through the conversation.

“But who is it advising your every action and saving your asses in the courtrooms, hmm?”

You and Hongjoong continued to jab at each other while the boys sat back in disbelief at the situation. Common people would have run the other way as soon as a gun was shot in their vicinity. So for you to have pulled one out in retaliation and furthering that, started arguing with their Captain, it was a sight to see.

“Bets on who’s going to win this one?” Yunho broke the silence.

“I’m betting tonight’s drinks on the lady.” Mingi said, throwing his black card onto the table.

“Me too, Hongjoong hyung looks too smitten for pride games right now.” Jongho agreed.

“Looks like we’ve got our first to tie the knot then.” San chuckled, nudging at Wooyoung who replied, “Hmmm, she doesn’t look like the typical housewife type though.” Analysing the unmatched confidence exuding from your body language.

Soon after, Hongjoong led you to the table of boys, pulling a chair out for you.

“Guys, this is Y/N L/N, future consigliere to Ateez, and not to mention, my future wife.” He smirked, eyes glowing.

“Carry on and I’ll be future Captain by regicide, Hongjoong,” you shot him a glare as you took your seat, “considering our fateful encounter, it looks like I’ll be seeing you more often with my father now, I hope we can get along.”

You poured yourself a glass of whisky and smiled while Hongjoong could already sense the eventful days ahead with none other than you by his side. -

Mafia AU Masterlist

[xhanisai]

Confront the boundary line of good and evil in my heart

AO3 / FFN

Summary: 

It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!'

~(x)~ . . . Tick. Tock. "I'm so sorry Chat Noir! I didn't mean to- I just- I just completely broke down and she was right there and I needed someone-" "It's okay, Bug. I understand, don't apologise," Tick. Tock. "It's not okay at all! You've wanted to know for so long, so patiently and I have always said no- and then look at me now! A hypocrite! This is probably a huge sucker-punch for you and I hate that I've always kept on hurting you back then but now, this takes the cake-" "N-No, I'm fine, honest...really. What matters is your happiness and wellbeing-" "But what about you!?" "..." Tick- "...Kid, talk to me, please. The way you're staring out into space is scaring me." The subdued, raspy voice belonging to the ancient being of destruction went unheard. The boy in question continued to observe the empty space in front, sitting on top of his bed with his knees tucked under his chin and his arms folded in front, hiding the lower half of his face. If one were to enter the room, they would instantly freeze from the glower of the boy's fiery emerald greens that were begging to pool with unshed tears and the aura of his stone-cold demeanour. From the waft of his internal turmoil, even a blind person would be able to pick up that he was currently the host of bad luck. "...Adrien...I want to help, I want to understand, so talk to me!" Once again, Plagg was left ignored, leaving him no choice but to float back down to his pillow and direct his pleading kitten eyes at the blonde, his tiny heart shattered from the state of his chosen. Alas, even he was helpless, his feline ears and whiskers drooping with sorrow. 'But you won't understand. You never did and you never will. No one will ever understand.' Adrien didn't even flinch, didn't even bat an eye. He was a statue of apathy and aloofness; though deep down inside, he was a maelstrom of agonising pain. Oh, so much pain. It was excruciating. He wanted to suit up and claw through the rooves of Paris whilst screaming in anguish. He wanted to find every billboard that had his face on it and tear through it all like paper. He wanted to shred and pulverise his useless, traitorous heart along with its despicable feelings and emotions. But most importantly, he wanted to rip the magical ring off his finger and throw it into La Seine with all his might and then cry for the rest of eternity. And he hates that he feels that way. Absolutely, ridiculously, hates that he feels betrayed. Self-loathing and disgust have taken over his body like a puppet and rendered him completely useless, like a toy forgotten at the bottom of the box, never to see the light of day ever again. The feeling of uselessness and pure shame replaced the blood running through his veins and numbed him to the point where he was equivalent to a powerless machine. He felt his throbbing heart fall deeper and deeper into the pit of his stomach. It wasn't her fault! No way whatsoever! But still... Still... 'It really does hurt so bad...so much, I can't take it!' The younger, softer, naive part of himself which was usually tucked away within the dark, hidden crevices of his heart, screamed as if the rest of humanity's lives depended on it. It was taking Adrien everything to keep him out. 'Is it too much to ask for only one constant in my life? Is it too much to ask for one thing to remain the same? Is it too much for anyone to stop keeping me at arm's length!?' . It is. . It is. . Deep down inside, below the platinum chains and iron bars of solid, concrete denial, he always knew that Ladybug never considered him as close as he did with her. And why should she? Just because he performed an act of common, proper human decency and helped an old man get his walking stick back? Just because he was gifted with the power to destroy anything he touches in order to save the day? Just because he knew how to fight possessed villains alongside her? Just because he's in love with her? . "I'm literally the worst." Adrien finally spoke out loud ever since he returned from...that patrol many hours ago. Despite his words, his soul couldn't help but weep and pray that it was all one huge, cruel nightmare. A twisted, sick joke that whatever deities out there have concocted up just for him. Anything! Yet, this was his reality. "I disagree." The boy snapped his gaze towards the kwami, his brows furrowing for elaboration on the little God's part. "I may not be human but I do have feelings and I can empathise. I've existed from the beginning of time and I've witnessed many, many things in my lifetime." Plagg then floated towards him, settling on Adrien's arm so that he was face to face. "You're not in the wrong here, kid. It's okay to feel like this-" "No, it's not!" Adrien's sudden outburst had the kwami shoot away in surprise, the boy instantly turning baffled at his own harsh reaction and then visibly paling even further. He caught sight of his own reflection on a nearby mirror, cringing at the monstrous mess that looked back. With a frustrated sigh, he leapt off the bed, solemnly treading towards his windows, fingers digging into his upper arms as if he was hugging himself. . The luminous moon that shone through the night sky, what was once a beacon of freedom in the past, never looked so unappealing to the distraught hero. His usually glittering eyes were vacant, devoid of any joy and hope whilst his lips were etched in a permanent frown. How many fake smiles and empty words of wisdom did he force out in front of his Lady earlier on? He's lost count. And how many more times will he have to keep doing that, knowing that there will always be another person out that there that Ladybug trusts more than she'll ever trust him? . "I stand by with what I said," Plagg quipped once more, his host quietly surprised with how the little God managed to get so close without him realising. "The two of you have been thrust into a messy situation with very little guidance and a whole bunch of rules which only complicated it further." He then directed his eyes from the moon to the boy. "Yes, I agree that Ladybug's decision in confiding with someone about her identity was a good idea, but as a result of that, it's brought you so much pain. You are not the worst and it's okay to cry it out. It's okay to tell her how you really feel." He placed one of his tiny hands on Adrien's cheek, ears and whiskers still weighed with melancholy as the boy allowed his eyes to prick with tears. One drop. Two drops. Three drops. Four. "It shouldn't hurt- I...I shouldn't be so selfish! Even if she never told me, I was able to tell that she wasn't able to handle her civilian life any longer, especially after becoming the Guardian- I'm supposed to protect her and be by her side! Not throw a tantrum like a three-year-old just because I'm not the one she decided to tell about her secret identity! And then adding my own stupid feelings and insecurities to her plate? I'll be a burden!" The dam was broken and the overwhelming feelings within Adrien cascaded like a tsunami. "You have plenty on your plate as well-" "But I'm used to it, she isn't. I was born and raised to deal with these kinds of things anyway so it's a no brainer for me to shut up and accept it all with a smile-" He paused abruptly, a wet gasp escaping his throat as he leaned against the glass for support when even more realisation sunk in. 'I have been dealing with so many responsibilities ever since I was born...and that puts us on the same boat...so why couldn't she have confided with me then?' Adrien dropped to his knees, fingernails scraping against his scalp as he tried to fight back against those negative thoughts and questions. 'Why am I never good enough? Not for Maman, not for Père and now...not for Ladybug...?' 'Why am I even here then?'

"Adrien...you don't need to put a mask on when you're with me. Cry it all out. I'm not gonna sit by and watch you destroy yourself from inside out because of your inability to address your true feelings. I'm right here, I'll even destroy all the wretched butterflies that dare to come by- so please, let it all out," "I can't! If I do, I'll never be able to go back and nothing will be the same again-" "And if you don't, then things will change for the worse and trust me, kid, that is the last thing you need." Finally, Plagg's words unravelled the obstacles that slowed down the flood and Adrien couldn't help but give in. His body shook and a whole new fresh wave of tears pooled down his eyes, teeth biting down on his lip to prevent the sobs from bursting out. . "...It hurts Plagg...it hurts so much! I love her...and I trust her so much but it hurts! I know she trusts me on a level and I know that multiple times she's mentioned that I'm irreplaceable but dammit! Why does it all feel like a lie!? She did the right thing in telling her civilian best friend, she finally has someone to look after herself- but why does it feel so wrong? Why is my heart in so much pain? Why can't I stop crying? If Ladybug won't lean on me, then what am I here for? And if I can't lean on Ladybug...who...who do I have?" . "...I may not be much and I may talk about nothing but cheese...but you'll always have me, kid," "I want to believe you, I want to so badly, Plagg...but I can't. I feel so alone...I've always been alone... ...And I'll always be alone..." . . . A couple of hours ago, just shy under midnight on a lone, hidden rooftop, if a curious civilian looked up, they would have seen Ladybug and Chat Noir locked in an embrace. However, what they would have noticed first was the absolutely broken, heartwrenching expression Noir wore... ...As if his entire world has fallen apart... . . . ~(x)~ A/N: Just wondering if I should make a sequel and give these two poor cats a happy ending~

[tuanhood]

hypnotic | part one

paring: vampire!im jaebeom x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut (part two), vampire au

warnings: language, cringey vampire cliches i’m sure

word count: 9,800+

summary: jaebeom has been waiting 200 years to find his mate - the one who can break his trance and isn’t affected by his hypnotic abilities. You don’t seem to be that person, but he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind… why? 

a/n: hello guys! so i originally had this planned to post tomorrow (the 30th) but it was so long i decided to split it up and post one part today and the other part on the 31st! This first part is mostly Jaebeom and not a lot of Y/N but SO BE IT. This is also my first time writing in the genre of vampire/fantasy loL so please forgive me because it’ll probably be cringe and not make sense. if that’s the case lol drop me a message!! also vampire jaebeom was requested FOREVER ago. so here it is practically 3 decades later. and i attempted to make a banner. if someone can make me a better one it’s v much WELCOME.

part two

Knock Knock Knock 

He wished he could just pretend like he was asleep. He wished he could use that as an excuse to not answer the door, but based on the very strong feeling he was getting from who was behind it – that wouldn’t work. 

“I know you’re in there! Just answer the damn door Jaebeom!”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes, leave it to Bambam to be at his front door before the day even had a chance to truly begin. Before letting him in, he went through all the possible things or excuses he could use to get out of whatever his younger friend had in mind.

“Is your vintage YSL here or is it still at the dry cleaners?” Bambam asked, pushing past Jaebeom as soon as he has the door partway open.

Gruffly, Jaebeom turned back into his apartment to Bambam already halfway to his bedroom – no doubt to look through his closet, “What are you doing here Bam?” 

“What does it look like? I’m here for the vintage YSL asshole!” 

He’s learned by now that it’s better to let him do his thing – whatever that may mean. So instead of following Bambam, he plopped down onto the same couch he’s had for nearly 15 years. “You know when I first bought that shirt it wasn’t considered vintage!”

Jaebeom waited for a response, but instead, he was met with silence. After a few moments – many of them thinking about how maybe it was time to replace the couch – he felt his “vintage” YSL button-down hit him in the face. 

He groaned; the impact was surely going to create wrinkles in the material he tried to keep in pristine condition. It was ironic since he was often heard making fun of how much Bambam cared about clothes, but Jaebeom liked to keep his things nice. “Bam I just got it back from getting cleaned a couple of days ago.”

“Put it on.” 

The tone of his friend’s voice seemed rather impatient. If he had closed his eyes, Jaebeom would have thought he was talking to Jinyoung or even himself. 

“Why do I need to put it on? It’s 8 in the morning; where are we going?”

“Um excuse me? Did you forget what day it was? Now come on, we’re meeting Jinyoung at that new café down the street in fifteen.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, trying to picture the café on the mental map he keeps in his mind, “the one that used to be a video store in the 90s?”

Bambam made his way into the living room, picking up a few glasses that rested on the coffee table Jaebeom’s feet were on top of, and marched over to the small kitchen. Jaebeom has lived in this apartment more years than he’d like to admit, especially because enough time had passed that the neighbors he had were clearly aging and he just stayed 26. The thought of moving somewhere new often enters his mind, but with this place, he just can’t bring it in himself to go quite yet. It’s almost as though something is tying him to this city, this place – like he’s waiting for something.

“Yes, and a speakeasy in the 20s both of which are not important right now because we live in the 21st century Jaebeom. Now come on, Jinyoung’s waiting – that asshole is always early.” 

He heard Bambam mumble something along the lines of known him 100 years, would it kill him to just be on time for once, as he furiously dropped the glasses on the kitchen counter.

“Do I have to go?” 

Bambam paused his motions of putting Jaebeom’s dirty dishes into the sink to stare the older vampire down, “Jaebeom you only turn 200 once.” 

He scoffed in response, “Jesus don’t remind me.”

“We have to make a whole day of it! So please just put the shirt on, because I want you looking presentable,” he stopped in the middle of his sentence, suddenly wiggling his eyebrows, “you never know what could happen.” The final word is drawn out, almost sing-song like and it drives Jaebeom up the wall because he knows exactly what Bambam is referencing.

For Jaebeom and those like Jaebeom, they didn’t consider the day they were born as their birthday, but instead as the day they turned. There was no point in celebrating their birth anymore as they were no longer alive. However, at this point after 200 birthdays, – alive and dead combined - Jaebeom was beginning to believe that there was no point to those either. He always knew being immortal was a curse but day by day that idea was only solidifying itself in his mind.  

Jaebeom let out a gruff breath which only made Bambam look up from the fork he was scrubbing, “Bam I don’t know what you think is going to happen today… but it certainly isn’t that.” 

The “that” he was referencing was one of the main factors that as of late had made him feel like living forever was indeed a waste. It was the thing that was supposed to make him feel “complete.” According to old texts and traditional vampire folklore, he was now walking around half full, but once he met his mate, he would become whole. At first, he didn’t believe the tale. He had gotten by so far without a mate that the idea of him not being complete made him laugh. But watching both Bambam and Jinyoung find their mates – Bambam 70 years ago and Jinyoung 16 years ago – made him finally acknowledge and reflect on the piece of himself he was missing. 

And fuck he was lonely. 

Bambam chuckled at him as if being in on his own personal joke. His friend was strange like that sometimes, “just put the shirt on Jaebeom.” 

By the time he’s had the shirt on and Bambam has somehow convinced him to let him wear his Rolex he got as a gift from his friend Jackson in 1920, Jaebeom feels mentally prepared to leave the house and embark on this dreadful day. The reminder that he has now been around for 200 years and still is not whole.

“Finally,” Jinyoung sighed when Jaebeom and Bambam finally reached the café down the street, “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes.” 

A disgruntled Bambam checks his watch, “well if you don’t want to wait every single time, don’t be so fucking early,” he promptly turned to Jaebeom to share his grief regarding their friend, “you think he would learn after all this time.” 

“Let’s just go order,” Jaebeom shrugged, not caring to be in another disagreement between his longer than life friends.

“Be honest you’re early on purpose just so it gives you something to complain about and a reason to make us feel bad!” 

Jinyoung ignored Bambam’s theory, replying to the oldest, “no need. I already ordered for the three of us. It’s a special day, the birthday boy doesn’t need to pay,” he glanced at Bambam, “you on the other hand…” 

The two new arrivals, flop down into the sofa chairs on either side of Jinyoung, along of them situated to make a half-circle in front of a low coffee table. The three of them had somehow stuck into this… pattern. Years of friendship that contained years of Bambam/Jinyoung squabbles that Jaebeom would often have to mediate. Patterns were nice, but sometimes they would get old – especially after so long. 

As the two of them argue over whether or not Bambam should pay Jinyoung back for a simple iced Americano because Bam swears he got the drinks the last two times, Jaebeom looks over to the counter where the baristas work on – no doubt – the plethora of orders they have. The factor of the café being new has certainly been the cause of the popularity and amount of people in the shop. He can’t help but feel bad for the individuals working on the drinks – three years ago he had been one of them for roughly 18 months and knew that it wasn’t as easy as it appeared to be. 

In retrospect, Jaebeom didn’t have to work. He had so much time to learn and understand what it meant to be financially responsible. Not only that, but he’s literally had hundreds of years to save. Plus, his early investments in companies ended up landing him some pretty substantial and valuable shares. Jaebeom was sitting on quite the pretty penny. 

“Wow your portfolio is remarkable… I’ve never seen one like it,” his latest financial advisor had said to him in complete awe, “I mean an early investor in Amazon? Apple? Mastercard?” 

Jaebeom had laughed nervously, “What can I say? My grandpa had good intuition, I guess.” 

Money aside, he had wanted something to do with his time – hence his barista job. It was fun, but like most things, Jaebeom just grew tired of it and as he watched the girl working the espresso machine let out an exhausted breath, he realized that he wasn’t missing it. 

Jaebeom has become good at studying people. It was something he still wasn’t sure of whether it was a vampire thing or just something he had picked up over time. Watching the girl at the machine, her hair is in a low bun, a few strands falling in front of her face. It’s clear with the way the hair tie is situated, that the hairstyle was once a bit neater, tighter, and sat at the middle or even top of her head. However, the now fallen placement and slight disarray signal how busy she’s been working and how fried she must be feeling. 

He looks to the string bracelet on her wrist, visible from far away enough for Jaebeom to conclude that she must have someone in her life deemed important to wear one of those “friendship” bracelets. He never saw the point, but humans were strange creatures, despite him once being one. 

Jaebeom’s breath hitches when he catches sight of the delicately drawn tattoo on her wrist near the bracelet. It’s of lavender and it immediately reminds him of his mother who had loved exploring the lavender field that had been near his home when he was a child. Despite all the time that has passed since he lost his mother, the pain that aches inside of Jaebeom when he thinks of her isn’t any less. 

His thoughts are interrupted by the call at the coffee bar, “Order for Jinyoung.” 

The call comes from the overworked girl he had been studying and Jaebeom wants more than anything to stand up and retrieve their orders. He finds a weird want to hear what her laugh sounds like. Maybe he could say something or strike up a conversation that would-

“What are you doing?” It takes Jaebeom a moment to notice that he has partially stood up from his chair as if he’s about to go somewhere. Cluelessly, he replied, “going to get the drinks.”

The youngest shook his head, “No way! Birthday boys don’t get their drinks, they don’t lift a finger.” 

He knew Bambam was one to take birthdays seriously, but this was beginning to feel like it was going the extra mile too many. 

“I’ll get it.” 

Jaebeom watched Bambam get up to retrieve the drinks. He expects him to just grab the drinks and return to the table, but instead, Bambam says something to the girl. Arching his neck to the side, he tries to make a clear path to eavesdrop on what’s being said, hearing being one of the benefits of turning. Unfortunately, the café is too loud for him to focus on the conversation and he’s defeated by the fact that he’ll have to stay in the dark.

The girl laughs loudly at something Bambam said and Jaebeom can’t help but feel mixed about it. On one hand, he got his wish – hearing her laugh – but on the other hand, he wasn’t the cause of it. For some reason it makes him bring his clench and unclench his fists which rest on the arms of the sofa chair. Jinyoung takes notice.

Jaebeom quickly looks down at his lap when he senses that Bambam is returning to where they’re sat, not wanting to give away that he had been staring. First, he places Jinyoung’s and his drink on the table, soon turning back around to go back and fetch the last drink – Jaebeom’s. 

When he comes back, Jaebeom looks up to see a large grin spread across the youngest’s face. He has that look again – the one as if he knows a joke Jaebeom doesn’t. 

The latter nodded his head in thanks for getting the drinks as he inspects his green tea on the table. Just as he’s about to pick up the mug, he’s stopped in his tracks by an announcement coming from the coffee bar. 

“Hello everyone! Sorry for the interruption, but I’ve been told that we have a birthday here today,” you said. Giving announcements wasn’t your strong suit, but you figured now that you were an actual owner of something, you were going to get over your shyness. But you didn’t think it was going to be that often that a tall, skinny and pale boy with a Rolex on his wrist would be asking you to get your coffee shop to sing happy birthday for his friend. Even when you were a barista working for someone else no one had made such a request. This was a café after all, not an Applebee’s.

Jaebeom wished more than anything that he could sink into his seat and just disappear. If only that cliché that vampires turned into bats were true, then he could just fly away at a moment’s notice. Leave it to Bambam to torture him like this. It wasn’t intentional of course, but it certainly felt like it to Jaebeom. 

It was especially tragic to him because the girl he had been studying was the one leading the entire café in singing “Happy Birthday.” He did his best to avoid looking at her, feeling like his entire body was heating up in embarrassment even though he couldn't heat up. 

You on the other hand felt a little insulted by the birthday boy’s lack of eye contact. You hadn’t even managed to get a good look at him before you started singing and now it was not possible with the way that he was looking down at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face, concealing itself to you. It wasn’t difficult to conclude that he felt awkward about a bunch of strangers he had never met singing him happy birthday, you had felt the same whenever your friends tried to ambush you on your birthday… but you at least looked up and acknowledged the presence of the people singing. A tight smile from this guy would even be happily accepted. 

When the song is over and the claps that follow finally subside, he looks up to see the café back at its previous state of normalcy, not a single person looking at him anymore. Jaebeom lets out a sigh of relief. 

“You could at least act like you liked it,” Bambam huffed in annoyance. He wished Jaebeom could appreciate the idea of birthdays like he did. 

“I really didn’t need to be the center of attention today Bam.” 

“But it’s your bir-” Bambam begins to explain, but Jaebeom abruptly cuts him off, not wanting to hear his reasoning for today’s antics, yet again. The day hadn’t even started.

“My birthday, I know. Thanks for reminding me.” 

Jinyoung clears his throat and plays with the spoon that came with his Flat White. Just as Jaebeom is the mediator for Bambam and Jinyoung, sometimes Jinyoung has to be the mediator for Jaebeom and Bambam. Essentially the commonality in the disagreements of their trio friendship is Bambam and currently, Jinyoung feels as though he should route the conversation elsewhere.

“What else is in the cards for tonight then boys?” 

It’s then based on the look on Jaebeom’s face, that Jinyoung thinks that maybe talking about the plans for tonight – on Jaebeom’s birthday – isn’t re-routing the conversation. Especially since it’s Bambam’s whose eyes light up and is the one to reply to him.

“Obviously we’re going out tonight,” Bambam paused and turned to Jaebeom, wagging his finger in the latter’s face, “there’s no way you’re getting out of this. I’m not taking no for an answer this time.”

Jaebeom rolled his eyes and didn’t respond as he knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had rejected Bambam’s invitations to go out consistently for the last 6 months and on his birthday of all days, Bam was going to force him out of the house just as he had done this morning to come to the café.

He looks back to the front counter, his eyes searching for the barista who has now suddenly disappeared. A frown begins to make itself known on his face, feeling a bit disappointed by the fact that she may have left already or gone elsewhere, but soon she’s popping up from behind the counter, no doubt getting something from the cabinets below. Jaebeom feels relief. 

“What did you say to her?” he asked suddenly looking back at Bambam.

He cocked his head to the side, confused, “What did I say to who?” 

“The barista behind the counter.” 

His friend nodded his head slowly, suddenly realizing what Jaebeom means. A smirk appears on his face, “nothing much… Just how it was your birthday and it would be really good if we could all embarrass you by singing about it. She’s not a barista, by the way, she owns the place. Kinda backward thinking there Jae. It’s the 21st century, women can own things now, they can vote.” 

“I know that,” Jaebeom hissed. 

Bambam puts up his hands in defeat, “I’m just making sure.” 

“Don’t you know her?” Jinyoung asked, “isn’t that why we came here?” 

Jaebeom’s interests are perked. It’s not often that the three of them meet new people. It’s not like there’s a huge point to it. The last new person the three of them met was Mark – also a vampire – a bartender at their favorite club in the city, but that was in 2007. 

He waits for Bambam’s explanation as to how he knows this girl and why they came here specifically beside it just being near Jaebeom’s apartment. 

Waving his hand nonchalantly, the Thai boy gives his answer, “I don’t really know her. Minji does. Met her in some kind of class, I think. SoulCycle? Pilates? Zumba? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with her and her activities these days.” 

Minji is Bambam’s mate. He had turned her only a month after they met. 

Jaebeom’s not sure what he would do if he met his mate. He doesn’t know if he would want to subject them to turning and living the same kind of life as him, but he also doesn’t know if he could continue life alone after meeting his mate. If he ever meets them.

“Why the curiosity?” Jinyoung asked, for once finding it hard to remain stone-faced. Even his usual chill, non-revealing demeanor seems to fade away when it appears that his older friend might be attracted to someone. 

Jaebeom simply shrugged, “it’s nothing…” 

“What do you think? Could she be the one?” Bambam asked teasingly, pointing to the girl behind the counter. 

Jinyoung rolled his eyes almost immediately at the younger boy, “if you’re going to keep bothering him about it, don’t make it so obvious idiot.” 

Jaebeom had been alive – or more like undead – for 200 years and more than half of that time he had to listen to this same conversation from his friends over and over again. His patience was wearing thin and 180 years later, he was tired of their pestering. 

He leaned forward slowly and grabbed his green tea off the table, making sure to visibly flinch at the heat of the drink, Bambam, and Jinyoung chuckling at his reaction. Out of the three of them, Jaebeom certainly had the most practice when it came to “putting on a show” for the humans and “acting” the most human. Taking a sip, he looked back at the girl behind the counter. 

The youngest vampire had spent many of their outings and conversations hypothesizing who Jaebeom’s mate could be. Despite being the oldest of the three, Jaebeom was the only one left who still hadn’t found his mate and he was beginning to feel hopeless. Typically, Bambam pointed out any human girl as a candidate – all of them of course ended up not being his mate. Therefore, Jaebeom didn’t pay attention to his picks anymore, but he had to admit… He did get a strange feeling from the girl behind the counter. 

Jaebeom looked to you, hoping to catch your gaze as you quickly made the coffee orders for the few people waiting to the side of the cash register. Just when he was about to give up and focus his attention back on his friends, you tore your concentration away from the drink in your hand and looked up at him from across the cafe. 

Jaebeom focused his gaze deep onto you with his eyes – testing, checking, and trialing your focus. You didn’t look away, instead, you trained your eyes deeply into his and stared at him until finally, it was Jaebeom who broke the contact. 

He shook his head at his friends, disappointed by your inability to break the trance and ultimately confused at the feeling he still got from you despite that. 

Jaebeom took another sip of the tea, “it’s not her.” 

“Did you have to debate that Uber driver on the Twilight franchise?” Jinyoung groaned at Bambam as soon as they’re out of the car. 

The entire twenty-minute ride, he had got into a heated discussion with their driver on how Twilight was not “true” or realistic to most actual vampire folklore. It had been an excruciating thing to listen to. 

“Got to stand up for our kind dude.” 

“Okay, but what happens when she starts asking how you know all these things or why you’re so interested in vampire stuff?” Jinyoung tended to always be right. This wasn’t an exception.

Brushing off his pants, Bambam gives him a nonchalant wave, “chill out man. Everyone loves vampire stuff.” 

“Maybe in 2008,” Jaebeom said just barely loud enough for his friends to hear them. The two of them laughed, Bambam shoving him playfully on the shoulder, “Birthday boy getting funny on us.” 

“I was always funny,” Jaebeom deadpanned. 

“Funny and looking good tonight. Let’s get you laid, shall we?” 

After a day that was jampacked full of various activities planned by his youngest friend, the last thing Jaebeom wanted to do was spend extra energy on trying to get some girl to come home with him tonight. Besides, he wasn’t that guy anymore. 

Jinyoung scoffed, “he doesn’t need to get laid tonight.”

“Yes, he does! Jaebeom how long has it been?” 

This time it’s Jinyoung that shoves Bambam’s shoulder – except it’s not all that playful. 

“Fine don’t answer that, but I’m just saying there will be quite a few girls here that you can have your pick of, despite your plain outfit.” 

Jaebeom looked at the clothes he had changed into when Bambam spared him a sliver of time to go back home to digress and feed his cats. The latter had wanted him to borrow clothes of his, but instead, Jaebeom decided on pulling pieces from his closet that felt more like him, less like Bambam. A plain pair of ripped jeans, an oversized black shirt that he had bought at a shop from his trip to London last year, and his mother’s necklace that often wasn’t missing from its spot around his neck.

Bambam’s earlier critique was that he was dressed too basic and that no girls would bat an eye at him. Girls don’t like plain guys, he had said. The comment makes Jaebeom wonder about you and whether you’d fall under the category of not liking “plain” guys. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. It was probably the eighth time he had made himself do it today. Jaebeom had found his mind often drifting to you throughout the day for some unexplainable reason. During their walk in the park, he wondered if you would take strolls during your breaks from the café or when Bambam forced him to go paint pottery for an hour and a half he thought about what you would paint. It frustrated him because he hadn’t even spoken to you – not a word and yet you were clearly on his mind for one reason or another. It wasn’t even like you were his mate. He had tried to see if you were unaffected by his trance, his hypnotic capabilities, but you had just stared at him completely fixated just as everyone else was. 

Jaebeom was not going to think about you any longer. He was already planning on avoiding your café. 

“We’re on the list,” Bambam tells the bouncer when they arrive at the entrance of the club. He scans the list and motions his head towards the direction of the door to signal to the three of them to go on ahead. There’s a bit of a whine coming from the people waiting in line which admittedly so makes Jaebeom feel a little guilty, but Bambam ensures him it’s fine, “why have a friend who works at a club if we can’t use him for the perks?” 

“Why does he keep bartending again?” As soon as the question is out of Jaebeom’s mouth he realizes it was a stupid thing to ask since the answer is apparent. 

Bambam laughed at him, giving his long – irreplaceable he’d like to remind everyone – leather coat to the person at the front of the club. Jaebeom swears he hears him tell the coat check guy the “proper” way to put it on a hanger. 

“Obviously for the girls Jaebeom.” 

Mark’s mate – Hana had passed on a long time ago. Jaebeom had never got the chance to meet her, only hears about her in passing from some stories that Mark has told the three of them. He hadn’t turned her. Jaebeom’s never asked why. 

“Girls… of course.” 

He can’t help but think about how Mark must feel inside. Although Jaebeom doesn’t know him as well as he knows Bambam and Jinyoung, whenever he’s with the older boy he’s always got a smile on his face. Often quiet, but he’s always got certain energy bouncing off of him that would indeed make him popular with women. However, if what they say about mates is true, would that mean that a piece of Mark was now missing? Did he feel like he was less of a person? Jaebeom felt like that sometimes and he hadn’t even met his mate yet. Mark had his, but now he didn’t. 

“Drinks?” Jinyoung asked the two of them and Jaebeom is partly surprised. Out of the three of them, Bambam was the one who was the most comfortable in a club or even bar setting. He figures that Jinyoung must be using his birthday as an excuse to cut loose and become someone else for the night.

Bambam instantly nodded his head at Jinyoung’s suggestion and Jaebeom finds himself trailing behind the two of them as they make their way over to Mark at the bar who is throwing his head back at something the girl across the bar is saying. Judging on Jaebeom’s intuition – it’s a bit fake and overplayed, but you got to do what you got to do.

“My man!” Bambam yelled over the music, leaning against the counter in a way to make sure he doesn’t get the elbows of his long sleeve turtleneck wet. Mark in response, turned to them and smiled, then routing his attention back to the girl, giving her an apologetic smile. Her half-smile says everything Jaebeom could need to know – this girl would not be going home with Mark after his shift tonight. 

“What can I get you guys tonight,” Mark turned to Jaebeom and the latter can barely make out his sharp canines in the dark club, “birthday boy you want anything special?” 

Before Jaebeom can reply that he wants to be at home, Bambam answers for him.

“Could we maybe get something that’s off the menu?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Mark who gave him a shit-eating grin, knowing immediately what he was talking about. 

“Off the menu” meant Mark’s secret stash of O negative underneath the counter. While alcohol had the same effect on them that it had on the average humans, adding a bit of blood just made a little bit better. Okay… it made it a lot better. 

“Three negronis coming right up,” Mark winked to give a little signal that these would most likely not be as well composed or put together as a negroni, but due to them being in public, he couldn’t necessarily announce a shit ton of alcohol mixed with human blood was going to be served up to them. 

“How has your birthday been Jae?” Mark asked as he was in the middle of placing three glasses onto the countertop in between them.

It was difficult to explain since to Jaebeom it had just been another day except for a little bit more excruciating. The celebration of another year “older” filled him with thoughts of how much time has passed, whether he’s done anything truly important and why he still hasn’t found the person who is meant to complete him… but like he said only a little more excruciating than any other day. 

Jaebeom shrugged in response, “Bam planned a lot and for the most part, it was…” he paused for a moment, wondering if he should say how he felt – numb, lost, and wishing the day would come to an end as if tomorrow won’t bring the same thoughts or problems. But as he looked at his friends who had tried so hard today to make him happy and celebrate, he decided to guard them against the ultimate truth, “for the most part it was fun – really good. I mean besides the singing at the café of course.” He throws in the last part to at least have some kind of believability to his story. 

He notices Mark’s eyebrows lift out of curiosity as his concentration focuses on measuring out each part of the drinks, “An entire café sang you happy birthday? Damn, I don’t think I could ever get through that, so I can only imagine how you feel.” 

“That was Bam’s idea,” Jinyoung muttered. 

Once again, Bambam does his nonchalant waving of the hand, “it wasn’t that bad. I mean okay, maybe it was… But Jaebeom was obsessed with the girl who led it.” 

Jaebeom suddenly feels like he wants to put duct tape over his friend’s mouth. 

“I was not obsessed with her! I don’t even know her!” Jaebeom for some reason felt the need to defend himself, which was probably the worst option. Him getting defensive was usually a tell-tale sign for his friends being right on whatever they were confronting him with. 

Bambam scoffed, bringing gliding his drink across the bar to be directly in front of him once Mark has poured it neatly into the short glass, “I noticed you staring at her before I went to get the drinks. That’s why I asked her to do it in the first place.” 

“So, she doesn’t know Minji?” Jinyoung questioned. 

The youngest takes his first sip and immediately lets out a hissing noise, signaling to Mark that it’s both strong and good. “No, she does, but Jaebeom’s weird staring only made it that much better.” 

Mark pushed the other two glasses towards Jinyoung and Jaebeom, “Was she your…” he drifted off, almost as though he was finding it physically difficult to get the word out. Jaebeom can’t help but feel the want to reach his hand out towards Mark and place it comfortingly on his shoulder, but his group of friends don’t do that. Instead, he saves him the trouble by answering back right away, not forcing him to say it.

“No, she wasn’t.” 

The bartender nodded slowly, suddenly avoiding his gaze from the three familiar boys across the bar from him, “That’s uh… too bad that she wasn’t able to break the trance. Sorry, Jaebeom.” 

He knows that Mark is just trying to be nice, especially when they’re on a subject that he clearly can’t and doesn’t want to talk about, but the attempt to be comforting makes Jaebeom nauseous. 

“Well maybe he’ll find her here tonight,” Jinyoung quipped, placing a hand on Jaebeom’s back. Sometimes the latter swore that his friends treated him he had just found out he had a terminal illness. 

“I sincerely doubt it,” Jaebeom commented gruffly. 

There’s a sound from the other side of the bar from a customer who seems fed up with the conversation being had between the four of them – distracting Mark from serving anyone else. He gives a signal to them to notify them that he’ll be there in a second. “Well… come to me if you guys need more drinks.  It’s on me tonight.” 

“Thanks, man,” Jaebeom tells him honestly because he might need a couple more drinks before he gets to the state of wanting to be in this room.

Mark said a final word of “see you guys later” and heads to the other end of the bar to help customers who have been waiting. Grabbing their drinks, Jaebeom, Jinyoung, and Bambam turn around to depart the bar, to find somewhere to sit for a bit before the drinks truly begin to hit them.  

With his drink in hand, Jaebeom took a sip and reveled in the perfect balance of alcohol to burn his throat and blood to soothe it. The drink was probably the most relaxing part of his day thus far and as he looked out at the crowd, he could already tell that maybe the mixture was going to his head due to his sudden thinking that this place wasn’t all that bad.

Despite not being a club guy, if he were to go out, Jaebeom would always choose this club that Mark works out. To put it simply – it was vampire friendly. With Mark behind the counter and his “secret” supply free-flowing, it became a notoriously known place for vampires in town. If he had to guess, the attendance on an average night was probably evenly split 50/50, humans and vampires.

The humans weren’t aware of the vampires of course – for the most part.

Jaebeom cleared his throat once they’ve found a booth to sit in, “so… Bam what do you know about that girl?” 

Both Jinyoung and Bambam exchange glances before looking back at the birthday boy. The latter tried his best to conceal the smile on his face, “not much… just that she owns the café, knows Minji, and is very single.” 

For some reason, Jaebeom’s stomach does a little flip, but he wishes it wouldn’t. “S-So?” Through his stutter, he tries to remain as confident as possible, but his friends see right through his façade.

Jinyoung leaned forward until his elbows rest on the top of his thighs, “Jaebeom you can be honest with us… Why the sudden fascination with this girl? Are you sure she didn’t break the trance? Just with the way that you’re acting…” Jinyoung drifted off, not bothering to finish his final sentence, but once again looking at Bambam. It makes Jaebeom lean forward in his seat as well. 

“With the way, I’m acting? I’m completely normal. I’m fine. She didn’t break the trance and now I’m just curious about her as curious as anyone would be about someone they meet.” 

There’s the silence between the three of them until Bambam speaks up, “You didn’t meet her though.” 

It dawns on Jaebeom that he didn’t even speak to you and he wonders why does it feel like he did. Why did it feel like he knew you but didn’t at the same time? Why haven’t his mind and body been cooperating with him since this morning at the café? 

Just with the way that you’re acting…

The way he was acting? What did that mean? Was the way he was acting mean something specific? 

He feels like he blinks and thirty minutes go by. And in that past thirty minutes, Jaebeom had somehow managed to drink 6 of Mark’s “negronis.” He felt like his head was beginning to get dizzy. It wasn’t often that Jaebeom found himself drunk on the verge of drunkenness due to alcohol not affecting him as much as humans. To even remotely get to that state, he had to drink a lot and it had to be strong. 

“You feeling it Jaebeom?” Through the darkness and the haze of the alcohol, Jaebeom could barely make out the hint of the smile playing on Jinyoung’s face. He had switched to a glass of wine at some point while Jaebeom was binge drinking which had to be the most Jinyoung thing ever. Who drinks a glass of wine in a dark, sweaty club? 

He’s afraid to answer him verbally which would give his friend an obvious sign of how he was feeling. So instead he just shrugged – as usual. 

“Dude let’s get out there!” The youngest shouted, motioning his hands to the middle of the club, “dance… maybe find you a girl?” 

Jaebeom watched the people pressing up against each other on the dancefloor, moving their bodies, and drinking like their lives depended on it. He wondered if he wanted to be a part of that. Everyone out there was so full of life and vigor… he just wasn’t. He also didn’t know if he was that drunk, but bless Bambam because he didn’t need alcohol to be out there. 

For what feels like the millionth time, his mind drifted to you. Was this your kind of place? Would you come here? If you did would you come alone? With friends? Someone else? You didn’t seem like the type of person who would like this place. You seemed more like him – the observant, calm, inquisitive type who would much rather be at home with a book than at a party. 

Then for a moment, he can picture it. It’s almost like he’s in a trance – an image of you curled up on a couch – his couch – under a large white cable knit blanket fills his mind. Rather than reading, your painting with watercolors – the kind that seems to be in every elementary school classroom – and he hears a voice out of view. His voice.

“Painting really?”  

Jaebeom sees you glance up from your painting to look at him, smiling.

“Looks like I’m gonna have a lot of time on my hands so… might as well get good at something.” 

Jaebeom hears himself laugh, “Okay but watercolors?” 

He feels like he’s going to pass out when he finally hears it – your laugh. 

“Let the artist work Im Jaebeom! She needs to get good enough to live off auction house money once her paintings get sold! Shh!” Despite your words, you smiled and suddenly moved the tools away from you onto the coffee table. You lifted half the blanket off of you and patted the space of the couch beside you, “you know I can’t say no when you give me that face. Come here.”

And just like that, the vision is gone. Jaebeom feels confused because it didn’t feel like a dream or fantasy, but it felt real… it felt like a memory. 

“Hello, Earth to Jaebeom?” 

Right… dancing. Maybe dancing would help him forget whatever game his mind was playing on him.

“Yeah let’s fucking go.” 

Another instance occurs where Jaebeom blinks and everything moves so fast. Suddenly he’s no longer sat at the table with Bambam and Jinyoung, but instead in the middle of that mess on the dancefloor with everyone else. He almost feels like one of them. He almost feels human again. But as soon as that feeling washes over him, it quickly dissipates. 

He knows it must be the drinks doing all the work, because otherwise, he would have never found himself in the middle of all these people, thinking that dancing is a good idea. Dancing had never done anything remotely good for him before, so why now? To help forget? Was it going to help him do that? 

“I swear it’s like he’s not even here.” 

Jaebeom tuned back into the moment, and it’s when he realizes that Jinyoung and Bambam have been trying to get his attention this entire time.

“Sorry I was just- the alcohol you know…” He says it so quietly that he knows his friends won’t be able to hear him over the music and the millions of conversations happening around them. But he thinks that maybe it’s better that way and that it truly doesn’t matter what he says.

Jinyoung comes closer to Jaebeom, until his mouth is right next to his ear, “we were just asking if there’s anyone that you’re interested in.” 

They’re still on this idea? Jaebeom asked himself. 

Even in his drunken state, he didn’t think that finding some random girl to fuck was going to help with the emptiness he’s been feeling lately, but for the first time since getting up and onto the dance floor he takes in the people around him. As depressing as it was to observe, most people were here with someone else. 

It’s then his gaze falls onto a couple that stands far on the left side of the floor, behind where Jinyoung is standing. The two of them have their fronts pressed up against each other, dancing so closely with arms exploring one another’s bodies. The female has her head resting on the male’s shoulder as if she’s too exhausted to keep going, but can’t dare to part with him. It’s like they’re part of each other and any distance would cause them to lose all sense of themselves.

The girl lifts her head off the male’s shoulder and gives him this look that makes Jaebeom’s heart – if it was still beating – ache. She says something to him and he nodded happily in response. Even through the dim lights and large crowd, Jaebeom could see the sharp teeth inside her mouth.

She placed her head back against his shoulder, this time, however, the male had his head angled back, stretching out his neck. The girl moves in closer until her mouth just ghosts over the skin, breathing on it until the boy shuts his eyes awaiting the sting and pleasure that will come next.

Biting down against his flesh, breaking skin, the girl drinks from her partner. Even though he’s at a distance from them, Jaebeom can tell by the look on the man’s face that he’s enjoying being fed on and that it certainly isn’t his first time. 

He feels like his eyes are frozen on the couple. It’s been so long since he fed off someone instead of the stuff that he gets from his connection at the hospital. Jaebeom tries not to think about the way his fingertips tingle and his throat dries up at the thought of drinking from a warm body. The alcohol has only dehydrated him and made him feel even more thirsty – he’s afraid that going back to the bar and asking Mark for a glass of O negative exclusively isn’t going to make that go away. 

After a moment or two, the girl removes her mouth from the boy’s neck and drags her tongue over the spot where she had drawn blood from, ultimately covering the wound and signaling that she was done drinking. 

He thinks of how risky it is to do that at a place like this. Although half of the people around them also take part in the activity of drinking blooding and granted most of them aren’t paying attention to those around them – there are still unsuspecting humans everywhere. If one wrong person were to see then that could be it for this club being a haven for the vampire community in the city and that would probably be… it for vampires in this city in general. 

But who was he kidding? He was being a hypocrite because he’s for sure done the same thing. 

You’ve once again entered his mind. However, this time it isn’t an image, picture, or vision that occupies his thoughts, but instead just the idea of how you would react to who he is, what he really is. Throughout his time that he’s been undead he’s only done the “reveal” to a handful of people and even then, it took him a long time to get there. Well except for one person who ultimately was a mistake and his friends hadn’t hesitated to let him know.

With you, Jaebeom felt that you wouldn’t be the kind of person to judge him instantly based on what he was. You would be shocked of course, maybe even scared, but you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgment. You wouldn’t let yourself reject something just because it was unfamiliar. 

What the fuck was he on about? 

It must be the alcohol doing this to him. He would have to thank Mark for making them strong this time around, but also make a mental note to never let this happen again. Jaebeom was already a deeper thinker, but this was getting out of hand.

There’s a sudden grasp of Jaebeom’s elbow and he feels himself jump at the sudden touch. His eyebrows furrowed when he realized it wasn’t one of his friends considering Bambam and Jinyoung were both dancing over to his right side. 

When he turned around to greet the person who had grabbed him, he was disappointed, surprised, and annoyed all in one. It was the last person he had expected to see her, except not really because it made perfect sense. 

“Jaebeom… hi.” Ara smiled shyly at him, tucking a string of hair behind her ear and slightly looking down at the ground. He wants to groan because he knows she’s doing this because he had once mentioned that he thought it was hot when she looked innocent. He shouldn’t have ever said that.

He’s not sure what to say, because what are you supposed to say to someone you’ve been trying to avoid for the past year and a half? Jaebeom had said everything he had wanted to say to her. 

At one point in his life, he had been stupid. He had been stupid and he had abused the power that had been bestowed upon him since the day he had been turned. Perhaps one would assume that he’d been foolish with his ability just at the start – 100, maybe even 150 years ago. Instead, Jaebeom had gone through a rough patch about a year or two ago. 

The overwhelming pressure of finding his mate had started to get to him again. All he needed was someone, anyone to break the hypnotic trance and that was it. A task that seemed so simple, yet never came. So, Jaebeom had used hypnotism to his advantage, getting as many girls as he could in his bed in the shortest amount of time possible. He wasn’t proud of it and it was something he would constantly regret as long as he was ali- around. 

One of those girls… had been Ara. 

Jaebeom felt relieved when she didn’t wait for him to answer back at her greeting, “How are you? I-It’s your birthday, right? How old are you turning again? 27?” She winked immediately after her question and he wants to roll his eyes.

She was the mistake by the way. The mistake that knew about who he was. 

He doesn’t even remember how it happened, how his secret slipped, or what the circumstances of her finding out was. Part of him thinks he was just horny, thirsty, and weak, but she found out and she… loved it. 

Weirdly enough, Ara loved the idea of him being a vampire and his “lifestyle” which at first Jaebeom didn’t think too much about. He thought okay she’s taking this extremely well… better than anyone else I’ve ever told, but whatever, but then it became strange. 

She was what those in the vampire community call a “vampire fetishizer.”

He coughed awkwardly, his gaze wandering over to Jinyoung and Bambam, hoping they would catch sight of him stuck with Ara and come rescue him. Jaebeom wasn’t that lucky though, not even on his birthday, “Yeah… 27.” 

Jaebeom can’t help but look at her neck. It’s fully on display and it was clear that Ara had come here to find someone to feed on her. He had been the one to show Ara this place before he had been clued into her little… vampire obsession. 

“Well did the birthday boy get everything he wants today?” She smiled and gave Jaebeom those eyes. He feels his cock twitch in his pants and he realizes he has to keep himself in check because he’s not that weak tonight… right? 

His eyes flash to her neck again and Jaebeom feels his throat get even drier. He was so thirsty and he knows Ara would be so willing. 

No Jaebeom… No. 

“I-I uh yeah… you know got- yeah today’s been good,” he stuttered awkwardly, bringing his tongue out to wet his dry lips. Judging on the look on Ara’s face, she’s taken the action the wrong way. 

“You look thirsty Jaebeom… do you want a drink?” 

He knows what she means and Jaebeom swallows hard in an attempt to distract himself, to remind himself that he’s not that thirsty. He doesn’t need it that bad.

“I-I think I am.” 

The words come out faster than his brain can process to stop them and the part of Jaebeom that’s coherent, sharp, and aware wants to punch the weak and drunk Jaebeom in the face. 

Without a word, Ara turned from Jaebeom and began walking to one of the exits at the side of the club. He feels like he’s the one in a trance, mindlessly following her through the people, not even hearing Jinyoung and Bambam calling out to him. The only thing that Jaebeom makes note of as he follows her is Mark’s face behind the bar, giving him a tight smile. It almost stops Jaebeom. Almost. 

When they finally get outside through the exit door, they find themselves in a small alley between the club and a dry cleaner. 

Jaebeom doesn’t even get a moment to think before Ara is pushing him against the wall of the dry cleaner, her hands roaming up and down his body, her lips going to his own. They’re pressed up against each other so closely that he recalls the couple he had watched earlier. He feels sick comparing this moment now to the two of them. 

“Fuck I missed you so much,” Ara sighed seductively into this ear, making Jaebeom’s stomach churn further at her clear longing for him. Well not him, but the vampire part of him.

“Please, I need it,” she mewled. At her words, he almost puts a stop to this whole thing and has to question whether this is the right thing to do. Jaebeom wonders if this is old Jaebeom behavior – the one that just used women and threw them away later like toys, but then he remembers that this is Ara. She’s using him as well. 

It’s almost as though that old, cocky, snide Jaebeom appears out of nowhere as he says his next words and brings himself closer to her neck, “do you really need it?” 

“Yes, Jaebeom I do, please.” Ara already sounds so desperate and he’s barely done anything. He can’t help but smirk at her reaction.

“Then I guess I better give it to you then.” 

He’s about to do it. He’s about to bite down and finally relieve his thirst, his craving, but then he looks to the side of the alley – towards the street. He feels like he’s seeing things again like he’s in the middle of a hallucination or mirage. That thought is pushed away when he locks eyes with you. 

“Don’t mind me,” you placed your hands up in front of yourself, to show him you’re not eavesdropping. Your action frustrated you because it would have been much better to say nothing, but you felt yourself panic. The prolonged eye contact with him while he’s just seconds away from pressing down – bitting down? – on the girl’s next for some reason pushed you into defensive mode. Not to mention his eyes… his eyes were – red? 

The girl hadn’t noticed you; you aren’t even sure if she heard you, but she certainly noticed Jaebeom’s stare fixated on you. When she faces you, she wears an unpleasant sneer, clearly annoyed by your interruption of whatever this was. 

“Can you go?” She said, the agitation in her voice more than apparent. 

Rather than immediately leave the scene, you continued to stare at Jaebeom. It’s difficult to say why you decided to walk this specific way home despite it being so late and dark out, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but be pulled in this direction. You weren’t someone who believed in signs or fate, but it felt so wrong to go any other way tonight. That was another thing, you felt this kink in your neck that practically forced you or taunted you into looking down the alley between this dry cleaners and club. It was yet another thing about today that felt unexplainable to you as you certainly weren’t expecting the birthday boy from the café today to be in a compromising position with some girl. 

After a moment of more uncomfortable staring – something else that had happened at the café today with him – Jaebeom breaks your gaze and looks down at his feet. The eye roll and acrid look on the girl’s face don’t go unnoticed by you. 

You shouldn’t be here. 

“S-Sorry. I’ll just get going then,” you concluded, unsure why you felt an uncomfortable sickness spread throughout the entirety of your body. 

You barely knew this guy – all you really knew was that today was his birthday and that he was friends with Minji’s boyfriend. Basically nothing. Yet now and even earlier back at the café you had felt this weird sensation within yourself. Not even when you looked at him, but just being in the same presence. It had been so hard to focus on making coffee today when he was seated across the room. Every part of your body just wanted to get closer, gravitate towards him. It was fucking weird… and scary. 

The girl nodded as if to signal “yeah about time,” at the announcement of your departure. Jaebeom on the other hand, still had his eyes glued to the ground as if looking at you once again will cause him some kind of pain.

Just as you’re about to continue your trip back home, you stop yourself and look back at the couple in the alley. 

“Happy birthday by the way…” you paused wondering if it would be weird to say his name considering he doesn’t even know yours, but you shove the thought out of your mind, “Jaebeom…”    

Hearing you say his name causes that tingling feeling in his fingertips to come back and his entire mind is sent into a frenzy. He feels too awkward, too shy to look at you again, but a sudden thought washed over him. What if earlier was a mistake? What if you are his mate? With the way he was currently feeling just at you saying his name, the visions he had in the club and the nonstop place you know had in his mind, it was difficult to believe that you weren’t his mate. 

Bambam and Jinyoung had found it difficult to explain to him what it felt like to find your mate, but surely what he felt right now wasn’t normal behavior or feelings. Unless he was a psychopath. 

Tightly shutting his eyes and drawing together all his strength, Jaebeom aims to try once again to see if you can break the hypnotic trance, unaffected by his abilities. However, as soon as he’s finally ready, head turned up to face you – you’re gone. You didn’t wait for him to respond to the happy birthday message. Instead, you simply left not wanting to be a burden or troublesome to whatever it was those two were doing in that alley. 

“Thank fucking god, let’s get back to it,” Ara concluded with a final roll of her eyes, gripping Jaebeom’s shoulders to get him close to her once again. He stares at her neck, but this time he doesn’t feel anything. He no longer feels thirsty and his appetite is gone. 

Jaebeom shrugs her off slightly. The encounter with you has caused him to wake up and realize what a bad idea it would be to do this right now. He hopes that Ara won’t put up a fight – he doesn’t want to have to hypnotize her if he doesn’t need to. 

At his actions, Ara takes a step away in disbelief, as if she actually can’t believe that Jaebeom is changing his mind and no longer wants her, “are you serious?” 

He doesn’t say anything but instead avoids eye contact with her just as he had done for you. 

Snorting, she glared at him, “Fine. Whatever. I don’t fucking care. I can find someone else to feed off of me. Yours never felt that good anyway. Asshole.”

Just like that, she’s out of his life once again and Jaebeom can’t help but feel thankful. He should have never been weak enough to be dragged out by here anyway. He had just been consumed by thoughts of you, alcohol, and the couple on the dancefloor. Then again, not coming out here would have robbed him of the opportunity of seeing you again and finding out that you actually knew his name. 

That’s when it dawned on him. 

Fuck… how much had you seen? What did you see? 

Jaebeom realized that he might have some explaining to do

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Return of the King

So we’re back to the quasi-filler stuff. This episode does set a few things up for the finale, like bringing Edmund to Corona, but none of those things are actually good and it’s still mostly filled with irrelevant shit alongside the more important stuff. 

Summary: King Edmund arrives in Corona to see his long-lost son, Eugene, and to give him the royal sash of their bloodline. Eugene wants nothing to do with him, but Rapunzel invites him to stay. Later, the sash is stolen and a ransom note is left behind. Edmund and Eugene decide to go and retrieve it. Meanwhile, the Stabbington Brothers plot revenge on Eugene as they are both viewed as a joke by the other criminals.

So How Did the Stabbingtons Escape the Prison Barge 

Last we saw them they were stuck on a prison barge along with Lady Caine and all of the other season one villains. How did they escape? Did Lady Caine or anybody else make it out? If so then where are they this season? 

We’re not going to get any of those questions answered are we? 

Man this is just sloppy continuity. Which ironic, because these two were only brought back this season because of continuity. They need to be “redeemed” so that they can be at the wedding. I guess it just sucks to be you if you’re an original villain for this show and not named Cassandra. 

Why Is This Deserving of Ridicule? 

Like...We’re talking about a world renowned thief and adventurer and his magical royal girlfriend who are well known enough outside of Corona to be mentioned and there for no doubt people know how they both defeated monsters, daemons, and several criminals besides just there two guys, right? 

This plot point makes no sense. 

You could just kick these dumbasses butts and be done with it. I doubt they’d bother picking on you again if you did.  

Did we really need even more motivation for them to want revenged against Eugene?

Rapunzel is Back to Being Her Bossy Self 

Rapunzel has not earned the role of “wise administrator” yet. She’s only been out of the tower for two years now and she has yet to prove to the audience that she has managed to learn anything since then. By jumping the gun and forcing her into a role that she hasn’t grown into, and by ignoring that this whole show started out as a coming of age story, it just makes Rapunzel unpleasant to be around. All her “advice” is just her ordering people about with a veneer of chipperness to try and mask her controlling nature. People who should know more about their own lives than she does and have no reason to listen to her.  

So We’re Showing Rapunzel Being Responsible... By Having Her Avoid Responsibility? 

Part of why the writers made her “acting queen” for the first half the season was to get her to grow into the role of becoming full time queen. However they screwed this up by not having her actually learn anything and having her avoid the real duties a queen preforms. 

What Rapunzel is doing her is just being a socialite busybody. The only administrative thing she does is approve some low-scale building plans for a small business. A thing that would have been handled by a lower official in an actual functioning government.   

Once again Rapunzel is being selfish and doing what she like, ie bossy people around while having them kiss her ass, as the real work of running the kingdom is left to someone else. This isn’t being responsible, it’s being hypocritical, but don't expect anyone to ever call Rapunzel out for this. 

Pointless Action Scene is Pointless

At this point, the low stakes action sequences are just cringe. Like is this an adventure show or not people? Stop forcing crap like this and give us some real conflicts instead.  

How Did You Get Here So Fast Edmund?

It took Rapunzel and company nearly a year to get to the Dark Kingdom. Even if Edmund wasn't delayed with pit stops like they were, it would have still taken him several months to get here by horse. 

Did he take a boat, or have four to six months already past since Rapunzel’s Return? 

I would argue that this episode was aired out of order and should have been later in the season, but Cassandra’s appearance at the end of this story, and Hamnuel’s appearances in later episodes, would suggest otherwise. 

Crap like this is why season’s three timeline doesn’t work unless you stretch everything out to two years instead of one. 

Read the Room Rapunzel

One could argue that Rapunzel is just trying to be polite, but that doesn't really hold water. 

For starters Eugene is clearly upset and has every right to want to set boundaries between himself and Edmund. Ignoring that is incredibly rude and if my significant other ever did such a thing, well they wouldn’t be my significant other for very long. 

Secondly, Rapunzel could have offered other accommodations if she felt pressured to be polite to Edmund. Not only are their lots of inns in a port town known for trade, many of which are probably well-to-do, but there’s also that convent that was mentioned back in season one. It has to be somewhere in Corona itself and as the so far only mentioned major religious organization in the country it would no doubt have stately quarters for when royalty and nobility would visit. 

So not only would it be a suitable place for a visiting king to stay in, as it would be made for such things, but it’s also far enough away that Eugene wouldn’t feel like his space is being invaded but close enough that Edmund could come and go as he pleases. 

By that point it’s still between Edmund and Eugene and Rapunzel can stay out of it, like she should. 

Eugene is Right

These are all valid reasons for cutting someone out of your life. Furthermore, you don’t even need a reason. If you don’t want to associate with somebody then just don't associate with. It’s your life. You don’t have to justify how you choose to live it and people who actually care about you should respect that. 

Unfortunately no one respects Eugene.  

Not Edmund, not Rapunzel, and most certainly not the writers. 

Then Why Don't You Get Closer to Edmund, Rapunzel?

I understand Rapunzel’s viewpoint here. Edmund is the only person she’s ever met who has experienced the same isolation that she has. He’s one of the very few people whom she can empathize with. 

However that doesn’t give her the right to force her views upon her boyfriend. If she cared so much than she could just befriend Edmund herself and leave Eugene out of it. 

Trying to encourage a child to have relationship with a parent who neglected them is super tone deaf at best and outright disrespectful at worst. It’s also highly hypocritical seeing as Rapunzel cut Gothel out of her life for similar reasons and Eugene only ever supported her for it. 

No really, flip the situation. If Eugene tried to encourage Rapunzel to give Gothel a second chance everyone would be slamming him for it. So why does Rapunzel get a free pass? 

Shorty Already Did That, Eugene. Don’t You Remember? 

I mean, you were literally right there when it happened. Are we forgetting season two the same as season one now? 

So Why Are Stan and Pete Suddenly Back, But Not Cap?

I mean we went through all that trouble in Rapunzel’s Return to write them out of the narrative and here they are without any explanation. Why are simple set ups so dang hard for this show? 

Rapunzel is Overstepping Her Bounds Here

Ok, giving Edmund a place to stay is one thing. Suggesting to Eugene that he should give Edmund a chance is not appropriate but still forgivable. But this? 

This crosses a fucking line! 

Eugene is not Rapunzel’s subject. He’s her boyfriend, and a prince in his own right. Rapunzel can’t just volunteer him for crap without his consent. That’s just indirectly ordering him about like she would a servant.  

Once again, flip the script. If Eugene tried to force Rapunzel to work with Gothel everyone would be up in arms. Why is this then deemed okay? 

This is Coercion

Not only is Edmund and Rapunzel trying to guilt trip Eugene here but she even fucking elbows him!

Like this isn’t “cute couple bickering” here. That kind of stuff is reserved only for inconsequential shit. 

This a woman trying to strong arm and guilt trip her husband to be into having a relationship with his abusive father! Because guess what? Neglect is still abuse! 

Rapunzel has zero say in Eugene and Edmund’s relationship. It’s none of her fucking business! Trying to force her into this plot just makes her look like an asshat. 

I mean look at this smug smile! The fucking bitch is proud of being a shit human being and a terrible girlfriend. 

And of course don't expect the show to call out this behavior as wrong because of out of date sexist double standards. If you think any of this is okay then just role reverse Eugene and Rapunzel here and then tell me its still alright. 

The Show Missed a Real Trick By Not Naming Him Horus Instead

Horus, the sun god, would have been a nice bit of irony and given meaning to the name while keeping the joke virtually unchanged. You could have had both lore and a punchline. 

And I would argue that the joke as is, isn’t even funny. Horace is indeed a lame name, but not for the reason that the show gives. It’s lame because it’s not unique enough. There’s already a Disney character named Horace and I’m sure there are real people out there with that name as well since it’s not completely unheard of. So the joke falls flat and winds up insulting anyone with that name. 

Don’t Expect Any Pay Off for Eugene’s Identity Issues This Season

Yeah the show makes a big deal out of Eugene having a mid-life crisis through out season three, but then never resolves it in any meaningful way. 

Edmund Is an Asshole 

I don’t care how “crazy” he is. Calling someone by a name they don't wished to be called is just plain rude. Acknowledging someone’s preferred name is just a basic common courtesy that is expected of everyone. Once again, this isn’t funny, quirky, nor charming, just unpleasant. 

So the Animators Wasted a Model on a No-Named Character Who Only Appears Once

Someone said this little girl appears in season one, but it’s not noticeable if she does. She also doesn’t have a name and this is her only speaking role. What a waste of money. Just have one of the braided girls from the movie instead. You already built models for them and haven’t really used them. 

And before some mentions race here, this is poor rep already cause the character has no impact. 

Turns Out, Varian Didn’t Even Need Those Truth Serum Cookies

Not only does this dumb down Pete to a ridiculous degree, but it also invalidates everything Varian went through in The Alchemist Returns and the grief he got from everyone for using the truth serum. 

Oh, and it’s also lazy writing and a plot contrivance.  

That’s Not Figgy Pudding!

This is Figgy Pudding.

It’s a boiled “pudding” that’s more like a cake with dried fruit in it. During the 14th through 18th centuries such bread puddings were made to be carried around in ones pocket or knapsack for eating on the go. They’re nothing like the creamy custards we call puddings today. 

It also looks nothing like what’s shown on the screen below. 

That’s like a half eaten loaf of wheat bread?  

That’s jelly filled .. apparently...?

Once Again, If You Have to Make Everyone Else Incompetent to Make Your Hero Useful to the Plot Then You Need a New Plot

Rapunzel has zero business in this plot. She doesn’t even need to be in this episode beyond a cameo. Trying to cram her into the protagonist role in a conflict that doesn’t involve her is just a disservice to everyone.  

Winnie The Pooh Is More Mature Than This Show

More of that meta commentary I was talking about last episode, and it just as full of shit as ever. 

Seriously Find Her, Keep Her is the best script I have ever seen in any show. It’s perfectly balanced so that anyone of any age can relate to it. It’s real and heartbreaking and perfectly suitable for small children to understand. There’s no shock value, no darkness, no modern satire, but its far more mature and complex and deep than anything TTS has tried. 

Also Rabbit is a far better father than any dad in this show, while still being cut from the same trope. There’s no shame in being a children’s show when its done well and this now 30 year old kids show runs rings around what ever mess Tangled is trying to sell. 

Eugene Isn’t Exaggerating Here and I Don't Know How to Feel About That

Turns out Eugene did grow up with these guys the same as he did with Lance. It’ll be confirmed only two episodes later. That just recontextualizes everything. He didn’t just betray some rando guys that he held no feelings for, he betrayed people that he’s known and worked with since childhood. 

Now just because he’s known them doesn’t mean that they were family to him like Lance, but like the fact that he keeps claiming then as such through out the episode would suggest that perhaps they were like siblings. 

That’s ... ingenious. That makes Flynn Rider retroactively an even worse person and gives the Stabbingtons real reason for vengeance. 

Only the show doesn't do anything with this!  It just makes Eugene an even bigger jerk in the movie for zero reason. 

Let Me Reiterate, Edmund Is an Asshole 

Just like with Frederic, Cassandra, and Rapunzel the show uses framing to try and make the audience side with people who do unforgivable things. 

Edmund is an abuser. He neglected his own son for 25 years. But the show presents him as “funny” and “quriky” and “look at his pouty face, he’s so lonely”.... 

No!

Edmund isn’t deserving of anything and how he treats Eugene here is garbage. 

This show is utter crap writing wise but boy does it know how to gaslight its own audience into siding with bullies and abusers.  

Eugene Is One Thousand Percent In the Right Here, But Don’t Expect the Narrative to Acknowledge That

There’s nothing you can do to make up for that. 

Eugene might forgive him. Eugene might move on from it. Eugene might decide a relationship it still worth having with Edmund. But the horrible thing still happened and it happened because Edmund allowed it to happen. There’s no going back from that and everything going forward has to be on Eugene’s terms alone. 

But the narrative won't allow Eugene that agency. 

Even as he makes his grand proclamation about being done with Edmund the cameras chooses to focus on Edmund and his feelings. The story is already priming the audience to prioritize Edmund over Eugene so that when the forced and contrived forgiveness scene comes we won't question it. But it only comes because Chris doesn’t deem Eugene as individual person with thoughts and feels of his own, but as an avatar to fulfill his wishfulment fantasy regarding his own personal daddy issues. 

Rapunzel’s Characterization in Season Three is Just....Off

Ok, even ignoring the major stuff, like not recognizing what she’s done wrong, putting her into roles she’s not meant to carry, and making her a shitty girlfriend suddenly, Rapunzel just behaves contrary to her character all through out season three even in small subtle ways like here. 

On the surface this seems like a clever call back to Great Expotations, but lets examine more closely, shall we. 

On one end we have yo-yos; an invention that’s been around since ancient Greece and is so wide spread across the globe that the word “yo-yo” itself is theorized to come from Indonesia and the Philippines.

On the other end there is Rapunzel. A woman who spent 18 years isolated inside of a tower, because of this she is both ignorant of somethings and insatiability curious and eager to learn.  Or at least she was, until striking out onto a year long road trip, and having now been out of the tower for only two years, claims to know better than the entire fucking world about this object who’s existence she didn’t even know about until only a year and half ago! 

Like what kind of sense does this make? Why would you abandon the core of her drive and motivation, to learn, explore, and grow, and then call it “development”? 

How Did Edmund Get Beat By These Guys?

Edmund took out Adria. The Brotherhood is suppose to be the best physical fighters in this world and Edmund is supposed to be best out of all of them. Yet he’s taken out by two random, mediocre dudes who didn't even jump him. They gave him time to respond and he stood up to fight them. 

Was all his physical prowess tied into that axe? Is the axe magic? 

If you characters have to be depowered for unexplained reasons for the plot to work than you haven’t a good plot. 

This Isn’t as Heartwarming as You Think It Is Show

If Edmund knew where Eugene was this whole time then he could have actually provided for his son. He could have arranged adoption with someone by letter, sent money, food, clothes, ect, maybe even wrote to Eugene directly and kept up a long distance relationship to be there for him emotionally. 

There is literally no excuse anymore for Edmund to hide behind. He literally neglected his duties as a parent, just cause. 

Finding these things shouldn’t make Eugene happy. Finding these things should piss him off even further because that’s how any logical adult would respond to this bullcrap. 

I sure know I’m angry. I’m angry that Eugene is a pawn for the creators’ writing wank-off rather then being treated as human being; as an actual character. 

“Nice” Isn’t the Same Thing as Kind, Rapunzel

One could argue that she’s not even superficially nice in season three, but the real problem here is that the show, and by extension Rapunzel herself, doesn’t understand the difference between being “pleasant” and actually being a good person. Outwardly polite people can stab you in the back, can kill you even, and not care, as Rapunzel has demonstrated repeatedly since season one.   

Do They Have to Be “Family” for Eugene to Give a Damn? 

Can’t Eugene just do the right thing, because it’s the right thing to do? People don't need to be friends and family to care about each others lives. Kindness isn’t transactional. Empathy and true charity doesn’t come with strings attached. If Eugene’s whole arc is about becoming a better person, then making the Stabbingtons “family” kind of undermines this. 

Don’t Reward the Dude for Doing the Bare Fucking Minimal 

No seriously. Edmund forfeited the right to ever be called “dad” by Eugene a long fucking time ago. He doesn’t get to be called that now just because he stopped being a piece of scum and showed the bare minimal of human decency. Even if Eugene decides to have a relationship with Edmund after this, it doesn’t mean that  he has to be recognized as his dad or that that relationship will be a parental one.  

Eugene, and by Extension the Show, Places Rapunzel Upon a Pedestal to  the Detriment of All

Only 4 villains out of 20 get redeemed in this show. Four, and yes I’m counting the Stabbintions as one entity here. That’s 16 times Rapunzel failed to give someone a second chance just cause she didn’t feel like it that day, and even here she did fuck all in trying to give the Stabbingtons any sort of chance. That was all on Eugene. 

The more this show goes on, the more it looks like Eugene is just in love with the idea of Rapunzel rather than who she actually is as a person. It’s a disservice to both their characters but it damages Rapunzel most of all because the show perpetuates this over idealization to everyone she interacts with. 

It’s really sickening to watch and terrifying to know that some uphold this selfish brat as a “role model” for little girls. There’s nothing empowering in being an inhuman “goddess” who can do no wrong....even as they do several wrongs and never gets called out on it.    

This Isn’t “Cute”

Eugene can’t even have an opinion on a fucking toy!

Look if you still like New Dream despite how horribly written it is this season, then good for you. That is completely understandable, especially since this is mainly a problem with season three and not really in the first two seasons and certainly not in the movie. 

But if you try to deny that they aren’t toxic in season three, that people who do have problems with how they’re written aren’t valid in their concerns, than you’re either someone who hasn’t been paying attention or someone who has gross double standards for women in relationships. 

This Scene Is A Waste of Time

This doesn’t tell the audience anything. It contradicts what was previously established concerning her powers without explanation and then just throws the creepy girl voice in there for a lazy hook. It doesn’t work at foreshadowing since we repeat this info all over again in the next episode and it doesn’t expand upon neither Zhan Tiri’s nor Cassandra’s characters.

 In fact it kind of contradicts Cassandra’s characterization in the last episode as well. Is she a remorseless bad bitch or a vulnerable woobie? She can’t be both. Not in the way show is going about it anyways. 

It’s poor time management and poor storytelling. 

Conclusion

It was mildly better than Rapunzel’s Return, but that’s not saying much. Everyone’s character is still circling the drain and there’s no escape line in sight. 

But before I close out, here is a real world update. I had to quit my job at Amazon for personal reasons and am currently job hunting. I’m not hurting right now, I do have money saved up to cover me for at least a month and I’ve been doing commissions here and there, however despite having more time technically to write these reviews, I’m now having to juggle it along with artwork and job hunting. 

If you would like to support my reviews and other personal projects you can send me a tip over at Ko-Fi and more public commissions will be opening soon over there as well.  

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 29: Sasha

Nobody in the Archives says anything, but a subtle change starts coming over the team after Michael’s unexpected visit. Jon starts spending more and more of his time in his office and seems tense and fidgety whenever they go in to talk to him, or he comes out to talk to them. Tim’s body language becomes more and more closed-off and his jokes become rarer and with an edge to them that’s never been there before. Martin seems mostly himself, but there’s a desperate, almost frantic eagerness to please about him that hasn’t been there since the first few months they were all in the Archives when he was trying desperately to earn Jon’s tolerance, if not approval.

Sasha makes it three weeks before she cracks.

It’s Tim that’s the final straw, Tim and the look he puts on Martin’s face. They’re winding down for the evening, tidying up their desks and the statements they’ve been dealing with—mostly false, to be honest—and Martin ducks into Jon’s office to remind him of the time, then comes back and informs Tim that Jon is “finishing something up” and won’t be ready to leave for a bit.

Tim shoves a drawer shut. “Fine. He knows the way home then.” He snatches up his files and stomps off to put them back on the shelf.

For just a second, Martin lets his emotions loose from behind the placid look he’s had plastered there lately, and Sasha sees the genuine shock and devastation in his eyes. Tim’s only left Jon behind once in the almost six months since the infestation of the Archives, and she still remembers Martin’s mock-stern look, Tim’s teasing smirk, and Jon’s sheepish grin as they told her about having to literally talk him out of the building. Hell, he barely lets—or let, anyway—Sasha walk out of the Archives alone after she stopped living with them; his protective-slash-herding instincts have been in overdrive. And both he and Martin worry about Jon’s health and safety, a lot. Bad enough that Tim is—seemingly—willing to leave Jon behind. Worse that he’s essentially making Martin choose between them. Sasha actually can’t guess which way he’ll go.

“Right, that does it,” she says abruptly. She looks at Martin and waves at Jon’s office. “Go get Jon out of his office.”

“He’s in the middle of—”

“He’ll come if you ask him,” Sasha says certainly. “But you’ll have to ask him.”

Martin frowns. “Why?”

“Because you’re the one he trusts most right now.” For a second, Sasha feels a little…not lightheaded, exactly, but the same sensation she gets when she drinks a glass of champagne too fast. It’s a feeling that’s been increasingly common lately, so as usual, she ignores it and keeps talking. “The only recording he has of Tim from before that table was delivered is the one we did the night after Jane Prentiss attacked, and he can’t bring himself to relisten to it, so he’s got no real proof Tim hasn’t been taken over by that thing the Primes mentioned. And even though he knows you and I are still ourselves, he’s a little on edge around me because I’ve been more distant than the two of you have been. So while he doesn’t really think any of us are out to get him, you’re definitely the only one who’s going to be able to pry him out of his shell like the stubborn mollusk he is.”

Martin stares at her for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, okay,” he says quietly.

He gets up from his desk and goes over to Jon’s office. Sasha gets up, too, puts on her jacket, and then goes over to the trapdoor and unearths the handle, but doesn’t open it yet. Instead, she heads back to their cluster of desks, grabs a torch out her drawer, and waits.

Martin, accompanied by Jon, comes towards her just as Tim comes back out of the shelves. Sasha doesn’t hesitate. She grabs Tim’s arm in an iron grip and jerks her head at Martin. “Come on. This way.”

“Sasha, what the hell—” Tim begins, but Sasha doesn’t give him a chance to argue further. She drags Tim over to the trapdoor, yanks it open, and half-shoves him down ahead of her.

“Come on,” she repeats over her shoulder, then starts down the steps herself. Behind her, she can hear Martin coaxing Jon into heading down under the floor, and then the door shuts behind them, leaving them in darkness for a split second before Sasha clicks on her torch.

She doesn’t bother knocking on the first door they come to, just turns the knob and opens it. The Primes start up from a nest of blankets, blinking sleep out of their eyes, which, okay, she should have expected. They aren’t exactly nocturnal, but they also don’t have cell phones anymore—not that there’s service in the tunnels anyway—so they tend to sleep when they feel like and get up when they want, and since they can’t come out into the Archives safely during business hours, they ordinarily don’t wake up until close to the time the team is usually packing up to leave. All of which is something they’ve certainly told her at some point and she’s filed away for later use and just never thought about until now. They both look slightly panicked, likely because neither one of them has the slightest clue who just barged in.

“This,” Sasha announces, releasing Tim’s arm and pulling the door shut behind Jon and Martin, “is an intervention.”

“Sasha, Christ, you scared the piss out of us.” Martin Prime sighs.

“Sorry,” Sasha says, even though she isn’t particularly. “I just thought we ought to do this somewhere the Ceaseless Watcher…couldn’t.”

Jon Prime feels about and locates two pairs of glasses. He slides one of them onto his face, then hands the other to Martin Prime before getting to his feet. “An intervention for what?” he asks, sounding weary.

“Yeah, an intervention for what?” Tim echoes. He sounds pissed. Tough.

Sasha folds her arms over her chest and glares at him. “That’s part of it. You’re acting like the world has personally offended you and you’re taking it out on the three of us. And you”—she turns her glare on Jon and waves a finger at him, which he flinches back from like she’s flung a knife at him—“are twitchier than the most neurotic statement-givers we’ve ever had down here. It’s getting ridiculous and it stops now.”

“Oh, does it?” Tim snarls. “What makes you think it works like that?”

“It’s going to work like that if I have to knock your fool heads together,” Sasha snaps back. “You can’t keep going on like this. We don’t deserve your attitude—”

“My attitude?”

“—and you don’t need to be so suspicious—”

“I beg your pardon?” Jon bristles at her.

“—so enough is enough—”

“You expect me to believe—” Jon’s voice is rising with every word.

“—anything to worry about—” Tim is waving a finger at her.

“Guys, come on,” Martin says pleadingly, but it gets lost under the flurry of words from the others.

“I’ve got one of those, too.” Sasha brandishes her own finger at Tim. “You can’t—”

“—what you’re hiding—”

“—all calm down and—”

“—don’t even care—”

“—trying to work while you—”

“—never see what you’re—”

“—lack of oversight—”

“Everybody shut up!” Martin Prime shouts.

The silence is almost deafening as all four of them turn to look at Martin Prime. His eyes are closed and he’s massaging his temples. “Look, if you’re in here having this talk, it’s because you want us to be involved in it, and I cannot follow the conversation if you’re all talking at once. Frankly, I doubt any of you can either, but I can’t focus on who’s saying what and it all blends together. If you don’t want us involved, fine, go find another room to argue in, but if you’re going to do this in here, knock it off. You are going to have to take turns.”

Sasha’s never actually heard Martin—either Martin—raise his voice, which definitely serves to make her pause. They all stand in silence for a long moment before Tim speaks. “Fine. I’ll start. You want to talk about my attitude? Let’s talk about my attitude. Or better yet, let’s talk about your attitudes, towards this whole…situation.”

“What?” Martin and Jon speak at the same time, Martin sounding confused and worried and Jon deadly calm.

“We are working for the evil embodiment of knowledge,” Tim grates out. “You know that. You know the more we learn about this shit, the deeper we go! And none of you are even hesitating—”

“Tim, it’s our job,” Martin tries. “We—”

“You’re not even trying to resist it!” Tim shouts, wheeling around to face Martin as he clenches his hands into tight fists.

Martin flinches. No, that’s too mild a word for it. Martin recoils, cringing back away from Tim and curling inward on himself, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped protectively around his midsection, head turned sharply to one side, eyes screwed shut, lips pressed tightly together. He looks up just as quickly as he looked away, eyes wide and wet. His pupils are so blown out they almost swallow his irises whole, and his skin is paper white, throwing every freckle into relief so stark they look almost three-dimensional. It obviously costs him a great deal to make eye contact with Tim, but he manages it, and something about his posture…

It hits Sasha in the same moment it hits Tim, judging by the sudden shift in Tim’s expression. Martin has braced himself to take a blow. He actually expects Tim—Tim—to lay a hand on him. Since Sasha knows it’s not anything Tim has ever done in the past that makes Martin think that, it must be something from further back, and she’s struck with a sudden, powerful desire to take a trip up to Devon and find out if all the true crime stuff she reads in her spare time will make it easier for her to commit a homicide and not get caught.

The anger drains out of Tim’s face, replaced with shock and remorse. “Oh, God,” he chokes out. “Martin, I—I didn’t—” He starts to reach out, then evidently realizes that won’t help and runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I’ve been watching all three of you. I-I told you the other day, I see your face—all your faces—when you’re looking into some of this stuff, and…I’m scared. I’ve already lost one person I care about to this. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” He takes a deep breath. “And—I feel like I’m watching you all die right in front of me.”

“Oh, Tim,” Jon Prime murmurs. He sounds—and looks—heartbroken, and Sasha remembers the careful way the Primes picked around talking about Tim that first day. She wonders if Tim Prime felt the same way, and if they ever got this conversation. From the pinched look on Martin Prime’s face as he wraps his arm around Jon Prime’s waist, she somehow doubts it.

Martin’s lip trembles, and he swallows twice before he manages to speak in a small, shaking voice. “It’s not—i-it’s hard, Tim. I’m t-trying, but…I think it’s too late for me. Even before…even before we knew, I was…” He closes his eyes and turns his head away for a moment, evidently fighting back the tears. “I thought it was just wanting to prove myself. Now I don’t know. But i-if I don’t dig into things deep enough, it hurts. And I don’t know how to stop it.” He looks up and turns to Martin Prime, but without, Sasha notices, relaxing his protective posture. “Was it…was it like that for you?”

Martin Prime hesitates, then nods. “I think so. It’s hard to be sure, since, you know, I didn’t know what we were up against for longer, but by the time I started thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea and I should stop…I couldn’t.”

“My God,” Jon Prime breathes. “I-I didn’t realize…was it like that for the others?”

“Maybe? It’s not like we sat around and compared notes. And I was definitely in it deeper than everyone else, even before things got bad.”

“Jesus.” Tim tugs at his hair for a moment, then lets his hands drop to his sides. “I am sorry, Martin. A-and you, too,” he adds, looking at Jon, then at Sasha. “You’re right, you don’t deserve…I just, it’s always been an issue with me. I get scared and it comes out as anger. I’m not angry at you. Not really. I mean…maybe I was, a little, but mostly it’s the whole…situation. I feel so damned helpless. I didn’t know anything about what Danny was involved in, so I couldn’t do anything to save him, and I lost him. Now I do know what’s going on, and I still can’t do anything to stop it.” He takes a deep breath. “I—I’ll try to talk it out before it gets this bad again.”

“Thank you,” Martin says softly.

“That helps,” Jon mutters. “A bit.”

“Right, your turn,” Sasha says, turning to face him. “What’s got you so on edge?”

Jon stiffens. “I beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Jon. You’re as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. I half expect to go into your office and see you with a map covered in pins and string. And I don’t get it.” Sasha ticks off points on her fingers. “You know who killed Gertrude Robinson, so it isn’t like you suspect one of us, let alone suspect us of trying to kill you. You’ve been obsessively playing every tape you can find from before that table got delivered that has one of us on it, over and over, so you know our voices by heart and know we haven’t been taken over, except for Tim because you can’t bring yourself to re-listen to the tape you made after Jane Prentiss attacked, but you’ve got that Polaroid we took on your birthday last year stuck in the bottom drawer with your backup recorder, so—”

“How do you know that?” Jon interrupts, a slight edge to his voice and his eyes widening.

Sasha stops, runs through what she just said, and covers her mouth with one hand. “Oh, shit.”

“You say things like this and I’m supposed to, what, not be suspicious? Not worry that I’m just…hearing what I want to hear on the tapes and you’re not—” Jon waves a hand at her.

“No, I’m—I haven’t been snooping through your office or anything. I just—” Sasha winces and glances at Tim. “I guess I’m…in too deep, too.”

A despairing look flits through Tim’s eyes. “I was afraid of that.”

“Jon, I swear to you, nobody in this room has it out for you,” Sasha says, turning back to her boss. “And I think the evidence is on the side of ‘I would know’. You know that, too. I told Martin earlier you don’t really suspect any of us, I know you don’t. I’d even go so far as to say I capital-K Know it. The Not-Them isn’t in the Archives. We don’t even have any real evidence that it’s anywhere, that it’s taken over anyone, and if it has it isn’t bothering us—”

“But we don’t know that!” Jon bursts out, gesturing in a way that has Martin taking a half-step back to avoid his flailing hands. “There’s no—it could be anyone in the Institute, it’s not like any of us went around gathering tape recordings or taking Polaroids or anything, so how would we know? How could any of us know? I-it could be anywhere, it could—and it’s not just that thing. Michael just appeared in my office, and even if he was after Helen Richardson, he could come in at any time. Jane Prentiss was living in the walls, my God, she—she was right here all that time, for all those weeks, a-and she could have come in at any time and we never would have known. Breekon and Hope just appeared—Rosie said she had no idea how they got in to deliver the table, and then they came down here and—they could have done anything and I wasn’t even here—” He draws in a sharp breath. “You think you can’t—I-I’m supposed to be in charge. If, if these things can just waltz in whenever they please and I can’t even detect them before it’s too late…it’s bad enough when they come after me, I-I almost want them to come after me, because that means they aren’t going after you. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t keep any of you safe.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes and turns his head towards Martin Prime’s shoulder. The tears brim up in Martin’s eyes, but he blinks them back fiercely. Tim lets out a hiss between his teeth. “And you think we’re going to be okay if you get hurt?”

“No! No, but—God.” Jon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I’m scared, too. A-and I’ve never—I’ve always had to deal with this sort of thing alone. So I—I suppose I went too far that way. I was trying to handle it all myself, and…” He looks up and looks at the other three. “I am sorry. I never meant—I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t realize I was—”

“Shutting us out?” Sasha supplies.

“Folding in on myself. Scared of things getting down into the Archives, and it started translating into being scared of what was already here. I-it all…compounded.” Jon gives a small, bitter laugh. “I was so desperate to protect you all that I didn’t realize I was making things worse. I-I’ll try to open up a bit more, too.”

Martin’s shoulders sag slightly in evident relief. Tim manages a smile. “Tell you what, boss. I’ll let you know if you’re being an asshole if you’ll do the same for me, deal?”

Jon actually smiles back, a little. “Deal.” The smile fades, though, as he turns to Sasha. “I—while we’re being honest, Sasha…I’m not sure how much I trust you these days. It’s—it’s not that I think you’re…I know you’re still you. You’re right. I know that. But…you’re keeping secrets. I-I’m not saying you’re not allowed to, but…the way you avoid us, it makes me worry about why. What you’re up to.”

A stab of panic hits Sasha, for no real reason. It’s not like it’s a dangerous secret or anything, it’s just…she doesn’t tell her secrets. “It’s not about the job, Jon. I promise.”

“I believe you, but…that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt us. Or you, for that matter. I worry that you’re involved in something that might be…” Jon gestures vaguely at the universe.

“You’re the one with the ability to just know things about people,” Tim points out. “Which means our ability to keep secrets from you has just gone down drastically, not that you weren’t the type to dig them out anyway. Hardly seems fair that you’re the only one who gets to have secrets.”

“Wow, okay.” Sasha frowns at him.

“Sorry, I don’t—” Tim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “That wasn’t nice. I’m sorry.” He pauses. “Or at least, I’m sorry for how I said it. I think I meant it. Maybe not that harshly, but…”

“Sasha,” Jon Prime says quietly. “Take it from someone who’s been there. It will be a lot easier on you—on all of you—if you trust them with…whatever it is now.”

Sasha is about to say that he doesn’t have to be cagey when she realizes that he doesn’t know either. Her counterpart never told them, and then she was dead and it didn’t matter. Which means their Sasha took her secret to the grave. Something else occurs to her about that, and she can’t hold back a gasp at the sudden lance of pain, covering her mouth with her hand. Oh, God, that means…

“My uncle,” she half-whispers through her fingers. She closes her eyes for a minute, takes a shaky breath, then lowers her hand and tries to speak in a more normal tone. “My mother’s baby brother—he’s only about ten years older than I am. My parents died when I was six and he…he raised me. He taught me everything I know—especially about computers and, well, hacking and all that.” She takes a deep breath. “He’s in prison. Something to do with something he unearthed that he wasn’t supposed to. I don’t know all the details, he won’t tell me and I haven’t wanted to risk digging for them, but he’s been there since 2010. It’s why I came to London in the first place, and it’s why I live where I do—so I can be closer to him.”

“Sash.” Tim sounds shocked and sad. “Why didn’t you ever tell us?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve always been like that, I suppose. Uncle Wade used to tease me about the way I would dig up secrets, he’d say I should have been named Harriet instead of Sasha. I never did anything with them, I just…liked having them, I guess. But I’ve also always been big on keeping them. It’s like…like it wasn’t a good secret if anyone but me knew it.” Sasha lets out a blow of frustration. “I can’t explain it, Tim. The only answer I can come up with is that I didn’t tell you because then it wouldn’t be a secret. And it’s stupid, and I know that. I should have told you all a long time ago and I’m sorry.” She bites her lip and looks over at the Primes, who both look stricken. “I…I’m guessing, um, Sasha Prime never told you that.”

“No,” Martin Prime says softly. “She never talked about her family. We never knew…” He trails off.

Which means Uncle Wade, in their time, probably never knew what happened to her, Sasha thinks miserably. She suspected as much before, but to have it confirmed…it’s painful. She presses her lips together for a moment, then looks at the others. “If anything happens to me—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Jon says sharply, a flash of panic in his eyes.

“But if it does—you’ll make sure he knows?” Sasha swallows. “Wade Copper. HMP Pentonville. Just…promise me that if something happens to me, one of you will tell him. Please.”

Tim swallows, but nods. “Cross my heart.”

Sasha relaxes. “Thank you.” She looks back to the Primes. “I’m sorry. I know I’m technically not the one who didn’t tell you, but…I kind of am? So I’m sorry I never told you, either. I—I don’t know if that would have made things better or worse.”

“Worse, probably,” Jon Prime says, a little distantly. “The Not-Them never went to visit him, or at least not on days when I was…well, stalking it, instead of Tim or Martin. But if I’d known…if I’d thought for a minute about…” He sighs. “There was a lot going on, and I’m afraid I didn’t give a lot of thought to who might need to be notified of our Sasha’s death.”

“Think Elias would have told him?” Tim asks. Sasha can’t tell if he’s joking or not.

“I doubt it,” Jon Prime answers. He sounds bitter. “He probably got more delight out of the uncertainty and fear and anguish your uncle felt, not knowing why you’d suddenly stopped coming to visit, not understanding why no one would talk to him about—”

“Jon,” Martin Prime warns.

Jon Prime pulls up short. “Sorry.”

Sasha shakes her head, not sure what she’s denying. Maybe that he needs to apologize at all. She thinks she’s starting to get it. It’s probably not going to be uncommon for any of them to suddenly blurt out a truth that has the potential to hurt at least one other person in the room, because that’s what the Eye thrives on, is the fear of knowledge. The fear of secrets exposed.

“Is that why I’ve got that aspect of it?” she asks aloud, surprised by the direction her thoughts are trending.

“What?” Jon Prime frowns at her.

“The—you told us that you’ve got all sorts of…weird Archivist powers. You can compel people to tell you things and sense when people have statements for you and sometimes you just Know things without knowing how you know them, right?” Jon Prime nods cautiously, and Sasha continues. “I haven’t noticed me being able to compel anyone, I don’t think I can force people to tell me things or anything like that, but I-I think I’m developing the ability to just…Know things. Like about that Polaroid. I get this weird…fizzy feeling in my mind? Like it’s full of bubbles, or—”

“Or static?” Jon Prime supplies.

Sasha closes her eyes briefly. “God, how did I not think of that?”

“Probably because it never would have occurred to either of us that you might…that that might happen.” Jon Prime glances up at Martin Prime, then back at Sasha. “You’re right. If you’ve all been sharing the recording duties as well as the research duties…well, Jon is still the Archivist and still going to get the lion’s share, but I suspect the rest of you will at least develop something. Possibly not you, Tim, if you stop now.”

“Yeah, not happening,” Tim says, sounding reluctant. “I might not like it, but now that I know…I’m not going to leave my family to do this alone. I’ll help. Damn the consequences.”

Jon manages a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

Sasha smiles, too, then turns to Martin. “What about you?”

Martin blinks, evidently surprised. “Me?”

Sasha gestures around them. “We’ve all been…acting like this. You’ve been acting like yourself, or more accurately like you did when we all started out in the Archives, when none of us knew you yet and you thought you had to prove you belonged here. I don’t need freaky Eye powers to know that you’re trying too hard. We put the burden of…everything on you, and none of us thought about how the way we were behaving might have affected you. So, it’s your turn. What do you need from us?”

Martin stares at her, then at the other two. Tim’s face is still ashen, Jon’s eyes still wide, but they’re both looking at Martin intently—like they can see something about him that Sasha can’t. Which they quite possibly can. Sasha may have been given the gift, or curse, of being able to ferret out secrets and hidden knowledge, but the friendship these three have developed, especially living in such close proximity to one another, has probably given them an understanding of one another that is beyond anything an entity of fear can see. His shoulders slump slightly, his protective posture eases back, and he actually smiles—it’s small, but it’s genuine.

“Actually,” he says, and while his voice shakes, it’s not as bad, “just you having asked means a lot.” He takes a shuddering, steadying breath. “I-it’s just, well, I don’t…do so well alone anymore? I-I mean, I’m trying, but…I don’t think I can actually…” He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“You’re not alone, Martin,” Jon says, his voice cracking slightly. “Not anymore. Not ever again.”

All the tension seems to seep out of Martin in one rush, and his arms drop to his sides as he straightens, like a burden has just dropped off his back. Sasha isn’t sure who moves first, Tim or Jon, but they both reach Martin in almost the same instant and wrap him tightly in a hug. Martin hugs them back, his eyes squeezing shut, but Sasha sees the tear force its way out of the corner and the relief in his face. She realizes he’s been suffering these last few weeks and wonders—have any of them touched him, even briefly? Have any of them touched one another, or have they all been keeping separate and distant?

Whatever the case, Sasha decides that, just this once, she wants to be a part of it. She lets the torch fall heedlessly to the ground and crosses the floor to join the group hug. Someone’s hand curls around her arm, she’s not sure who, but she feels the warmth of her friends—her boys—soak into her body and wonders why she’s gone so long without this.

She raises her head briefly and looks in the direction of the Primes. She can just see them in the torch light glowing up from below; Jon Prime is watching them with a look of mingled warmth and longing. Giving in to impulse, she jerks her head to indicate that they should come closer.

And, for a wonder, he does. They both do, and suddenly there are more arms joining the pile and six people instead of four. Six broken, lonely pieces slotting together to make a single picture. Not quite complete. It may never be complete. But at least there aren’t any holes. Not anymore.

[automatismoateo]

Why I left my religion and how it changed my life via /r/atheism

Submitted April 23, 2021 at 09:01AM by Iamnameless_ (Via reddit https://ift.tt/3gzpZxk) Why I left my religion and how it changed my life

I have tried for years to put what I went through into words or to make sense of it, but no matter how hard I try I can never paint a full picture of how awful It felt to be born a girl in a Muslim household.

This is for the many little girls out there who feel what I’ve felt. Who spend their nights crying and feeling lonely, scared and trapped. This is a success story and I hope that it will bring hope to you.

Before I begin, i would like to state that there is a difference between Islam and the culture around it. The problem isn’t Islam nor is it the religion itself. It is the toxic culture that has been built around it by muslims and the hidden truths that women are too scared to reveal.

I grew up in a Muslim household in a western country. My parents were extremely religious - to the point where it was extreme.

My father abused my mother my entire life and in return she took out it out on us. Now of course, not all Muslim men are abusive, although it is easy to get away with and not exactly frowned upon. My father was never involved in our lives, he didn’t know our birthdays or anything about us really. My mother had the obligation to take care of us, she would spend all day cooking and cleaning and dealing with the abuse. She became numb, empty and trapped. Consequently, she became even more religious, trying to convince herself that her sacrifices and her pains were going to be rewarded by god. She became so afraid of my father punishing her for our behaviour that she also became toxically controlling.

I could go on for days and write shocking and horrifying things, but I need to protect myself and I’m also not ready to reveal everything I went through because to be quite honest, I find it humiliating and it makes me cringe (even anonymously).

My parents always told us stories about how woman that didn’t obey the rules of Islam were killed. They would go in specific detail and give us examples and names. We grew up in fear and we were taught that girls basically had no rights, they had to do everything their parents said until they got married and then their husband would tell them what to do. My brother was free as bird. He could do anything he wanted.

My mother would make me clean the house and do the dishes while my brother just sat there playing video games. Whenever I would ask why I had to do it and not him, she would answer “because you’re a girl”. I must’ve heard that sentence a billion times and each time she repeated it, I hated her even more.

When I was about 6 years old, my mother came to pick me up from school and as we were leaving my biggest fear at the time occurred — a boy in my class said goodbye to me. My mother became furious. She told me that I was never allowed to be friends with boys and looked at me with such disgust as If I had done something awful. She told me that in our religion and culture, girls are not allowed to be friends with boys. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I developed terrible anxiety from that behaviour. Every time that my mother would pick me up from school, my palms would become sweaty, my heart would race and all I would feel is fear. It seems to ridiculous and almost funny to write, but at the time it was a genuinely scary thing.

When I was about 8, we went to a park with some family. I layed down in the grass and my mother came to me and grabbed me by the arm violently and told me that girls aren’t allowed to “lie down” infront of men (who I was related to). Again, it was confusing but she had this way of speaking to me and looking at me that made me fear her and do everything she said.

When I was 11, my breasts started to develop very rapidly. All of the sudden, I was becoming a woman. I was forbidden from wearing shirts that didn’t cover up my entire upper body. It felt unfair and wrong. I didn’t understand why my body (that I didn’t chose) was causing so much uproar. I wanted to play, to be free, to wear comfortable clothing. I didn’t even understand sex, I was a child, yet sex (or the fear of it) was the premise of my life. It was who I was, it was everything I did. My parents based my entire existence on sex.

We had a family friend who had a daughter my age. She was born with one of her Fallopian tubes twisted and as she got older the pain was so awful that she would scream in anguish. The girls mother refused the simple surgery that could stop her pain because the doctor had to enter through her vagina and cut her hymen to do the procedure. I overheard my mother saying that she shouldn’t get the surgery because what if one day she gets married and her husband doubts her virginity. It absolutely shattered my heart and changed my view on Islam forever.

Around that age, I got my first period. I was absolutely terrified to tell my mother about it. It was only after the second time that it happened that I had the guts to tell her. She was extremely uncomfortable and didn’t look at me. She didn’t explain what was happening and she made me feel dirty and disgusting. After that, things got worse and worse.

I went to high school and suddenly it all hit me in the face. I understood my entire life. I understood that I had been taught none sense and lies. I understood that I had been mentally abused. I understood that i was going nowhere with the life I had. I became angry, heavily depressed and suicidal.

I wasn’t allowed to have a social life and I wasn’t allowed to wear tight or “revealing” clothes. I had to be home after school on the dot. Literally, my mom would wait at the door for me and if I was even a minute late she would scream at me as I walked in. Like genuinely yell at me for being 5 minutes late and accuse me of being with boys and doing bad things and lying. It was traumatizing, since I was always telling the truth (at least then). Every single day, I would hop off the bus and run home. And then I would fight with my mother over non existant boys and cry all night long- and repeat. This went on pretty much my entire adolescence and I lost my fucking mind. I can’t even begin to explain the pain. I just didn’t want to live. School kept me going, I had good grades, greats friends and I just loved it. But I had an awful secret and I never said a word about it. Every night I would get on my knees and pray to a god that I didn’t believe in and that I hated, that I would die. I just couldn’t imagine getting out of my situation.

I looked up things online a couple of times, wondering if I was the only one going through this and I was shocked to see that it was common. When I was 16, I tried to kill myself. I woke up one morning and I felt absolutely nothing it was like I was already dead. I couldn’t handle it anymore, I was alone. Nobody could see, nobody could tell and this was my life forever. I ended up at the hospital and lived but I couldn’t care less. I told the nurses that I didn’t want to see my family and I was taken to a psych ward where I stayed for a few days. I felt peace for the first time in my life. I was all alone but I was free (ironically I was locked up in a hospital room). When they asked me why I did it I couldn’t get the words out so I was very vague. My mother and brother came to visit me and although they were crying, the first thing she said to me was “how could you do this to us and to your father” and that this was haram and that I needed to pray to god and everything would be ok. I tried telling her that I couldn’t live like this anymore but I was too afraid to say that I fucking hated god and that I felt more oppressed than a dog. So when the doctors asked me if I felt better and if I wanted to leave I said yes and I guess they just assumed I was a stupid teenage girl. I went back home and things were a little different for a few days but then and it got bad again.

That’s when my entire life changed. I tried dying and it didn’t work. So now I had nothing to lose, it was either die or die trying. I became rebellious, started talking back, starting talking to boys, starting hanging out with friends after school and lying about it and wearing clothes and changing them after leaving the house. I realized that whether I did or I didn’t, I was going to get yelled at and since I was a “girl” I couldn’t be trusted, so I decided to make it worth something. I wasn’t scared of my parents anymore because I realized that they were just people- like me. And that they were sad and miserable so I made it my goal to not end up like that. I decided I was going to leave home at 18.

After my suicide attempt, I had to see a social worker once a week. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never told her what was going on at home specifically because I was embarrassed, scared and in-denial. But I opened up to her in small ways and spoke about the way my mother treated me in general and it opened up my eyes little by little. I realized that I was never the problem. I realized that I was a child. I realized that parents can be bad and wrong. I realized that my home life was abnormal and toxic. I realized that my mother was a victim, that she was an abused woman trying to cope by “protecting” her children and feeling important. I realized that my father was weak. That he was a coward all along and that he needed to feel strong by asserting his dominance. But most importantly, I realized that I was so much more than I was taught I was - I was smart, I was strong and I was a person not just an object for men’s pleasure.

At 18, my mother began to suspect my secret life. She came into my room and told me that girls who do bad things in Islam get killed. And for the first time, I wasn’t scared. I could see how weak she felt and how scared she was. And so one day I went to school, I took the bus back home and a few stops before my house, I thought to myself “oh wow I can’t do it anymore”. So I got off and I went to a friends house and I didn’t go home that night. My parents called, texted, found me on all social media, contacted my friends, sent out threatening texts... A part of me was absolutely terrified that they would find me and do something bad. But the other part of me couldn’t get enough of the freedom and the air. I went to school the next day and told a counsellor and the police everything. I didn’t want to get my parents in trouble, in fact I felt really terrible and selfish. I told the cops that I didn’t get any real threats and that I didn’t want to file a report or anything, but that I just wanted this on record in case anything ever happened to me.

At first, they would send me abusive terrible texts everyday. About how I’m terrible, disgusting, selfish, that god hates me, that I will burn in hell, that I’ve ruined their lives and their honour. And then afterwards they would beg me to come home and tell me they love me. But then they would text me that I’m weak, that I couldn’t handle gods words, that I was a sinner. And then that they loved me and just wanted me back and that we could go back to normal. And then again, I’m ungrateful, I’m dumb, i gave into tentations, I’m a whore.

I didn’t see my parents for a year. They contacted me non stop, begging me to come visit so that the rest of our family wouldn’t notice I left home. They stopped inviting people over so that they wouldn’t ask questions. They told me that if I’m seen with a boy or wearing revealing clothes their lives would be over and they begged me to not do so for them.

I spent the entire year healing my wounds, my trauma and working on myself. I moved into a studio apartment and worked part time while being a full time student. I got a student loan that allowed me to live, i didn’t have much but I had never ever in my entire life felt so happy. I felt like I was on top of the world, I could do anything and be anything. (I had an incredible support system during this period and I was followed by a specialist. I got help and opened up to people. It was difficult, a process and alot of hard work. Without all that I don’t think this would’ve been a success story).

At 19, I met my parents in a cafe out of guilt. I felt sorry for them but I just didn’t feel love. They told me that they accept who I am but the only thing they ask is that I come back into their lives and that I hide this part of my life to the family and friends and that I visit every now and then so that nobody suspects anything. Obviously, growing up in the culture I knew how bad things would be for them and I understood. I saw them a couple of times here and then but I never felt like myself when I was there. I guess I did it for them and because I just felt awful that I had to ruin their lives to make mine better. But as I said, it was death or this. It just was never who I was meant to be.

Today I am happy and so grateful for everything I have and everything I went through. I would never ever change my past or my childhood because it made me into somebody I love and it took a long time to get here. I learned that pain can be worth something and it can be beautiful once it’s overcome. More importantly, I learned that as a girl I am strong and resilient. That I can handle so much more than I thought and that I can achieve anything or even more than what a man can.

I’m fortunate, privileged and lucky. My story could’ve taken several tragic turns. Im lucky that I live in a western country, that I have this possibility of freedom. I’m lucky to be educated and surrounded by wonderful people.

My story isn’t meant to anger people of Muslim faith. In fact, I hope that my story and the many many others that I know are out there will open up a discussion in the Muslim community. Instead of shaming and using scare tactics to control our daughters, we should be teaching them with love, trust and truth. I wouldn’t have left Islam if my parents taught me religion instead of toxic culture. But more importantly, I hope that this might show some girl out there that she definitely isn’t alone and that she’ll make it through.

I know it can be difficult for non-Muslim people to understand how all this is possible or to understand the gravity of it, how common it is and how painful it is. But just imagine all your rights being stripped away from you because you were born a girl. Kind of like being in quarantine for 18 years! It’s funny, I hear all my friends complain about quarantine and not being able to go out or be free and I just laugh to myself and think Imagine that, plus the mental abuse, plus the oppression—because that’s how it felt. Every single day.

How is it acceptable for my father to abuse my mother but not for me to wear a tank top?

How is it okay for my brother to drop out of college but I’m not allowed to stay at the library past a certain hour?

Why is my 40 years old uncle engaged to a 17 year old girl, but I can’t date a man that I meet who loves me and treats me with respect?

Why does a 10 year old boy have more rights than a 30 year old mother?

[nad-zeta]

Matchup Duo 💎

HOWDY, not sure if matchups for ikeseng are open but here i go anyway?¿ ´･ᴗ･`

-I’m a Leo, and a combination of ENFP/ENTP (if that helps with characterization), but I’m becoming more ambivert as the days go by. But I still act like a crackhead (making up new words, making random sound effects out of boredom and roasting people playfully, having airhead moments, for examples) and a lot of people irl do get put off at how “obnoxious” I can get, but I do know when to “flip the switch” and become serious/quiet.

-I have really low standards for humor idk I laugh at my own jokes it’s honestly astounding, but cursed memes/images are somethin else💀 Dark jokes are always open in my ally👀

-Ironically, I canNOT stand horror, I will legit be so paranoid or freaked out and start overthinking and just cry and DIE—

I’m very open, almost TOO open, but ask me literally anything and I’ll usually tell everyone my honest opinions/thoughts, but I know how to deliver words tactfully and articulately. Debating, (public) speaking, writing, and understanding concepts are my strong suits; likewise I suck ass at math (I have no idea how I ended up in Calc BC ap, I just— 😭)

-Speaking of writing, I write poems whenever I feel like it, I have a whole collection HAH. My love of expressing comes from my tendency to play the devil’s advocate in interpreting and arguing for almost all perspectives in topics. So you can probably guess how I don’t get offended really easily and welcome both playful and serious banter (despite the crackhead persona, I’m very observant of people and their values expressed and how they tick, so I know when to back off especially when they get uncomfortable with my aggressive debating/personality). Need advice? I can use what I’ve gathered from different people and help anyone in their particular situations.

-And speaking of expression, I love fashion and makeup! I love being able to express myself through use of presentation and have fun while doing it! hehe (k-fashion, asian beauty 👀) HECK YEAH I’M DOWN FOR SHOPPING—

-I like to dance yeehaw, and I was on a competitive dance team (well that was before when the corona hit the milly rock a little TOO hard and put all the dancers out of commission😔🤝😭) I’ve also been in my own highschool’s dance club for 4 years!!

-I’m a console gamer :0 Big fan of winding down with video games, but books are the best if games aren’t an option.

-Music is a huge part of my life; I played the flute and the viola for years before and been surrounded by music through dancing as well; while I’ve been in a choir before, my vocals aren’t stellar oof, but at least I’m not tone-deaf.

-Can’t cook to save a life ooooof, that’s where my airheadness REALLY kicks in. I literally burn myself making instant :>

-I’m not phased by sexual innuendos/conversations/kinks because I see them objectively as unique characteristics of every person, but I’ll crack up at a sex joke or a cringe flirt line with friends. And like I’ve said, I’ll share them myself without objection if ANYONE asks. But the moment someone actually TRIES to make a move on me (like what!!¡¿), I’ll first play it casual but then bolt for the door because it’s hard for me to actually imagine that ANY guy would see me in a romantic light LOL but i’d get used to the advances quick and if it’s someone i liked back, i’d tease them the same or raise up the antics ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Hi, there, dear! <3 Can I just say u sound like a super cool person! Anyway here is your matchup dear, I hope you enjoy it! And thanks for waiting soooooooooo long! ^_^

So I match you with………… Masamune

Selfie Match up

The first time this boi meets you he is ecstatic, finally someone fun to liven up this boring place.

You scream fun and outgoing

Masamune is already imagining all the fun adventures the two of you can go on and he hasn’t even talked to you yet!

He is absolutely captivated by those big dark brown eyes. 

Those big bright intelligent eyes are all telling of the playful mischief the two of you could get up to together.

He absolutely loses himself in your deep warm, captivating eyes, they remind him of home, they are deep and rich like the soil of his home town, soft and comforting, while busting with endless life and energy

HE is absolutely dazzled by the way your soft strands of earthy hair moved so freely in the wind. It low key reminds him of his own wild free personality

If he ever had to imagine his perfect woman you would be it.

You have the same vibe as playful kitten having endless hours of fun, and boy oh boy all Masa wants to do is join in.

He wishes nothing more than to boop your cute nose

His brain goes haywire, all he wants to do is kiss those soft lips of yours

Masamune continues to eye you from the corner of the council room. Gosh if love at first sight did exist than this would describe his exact feelings towards you.

Match up part

You were named as the new princess of the Oda forces and was forced to sit through the rest of the boring war council. It had been 30 minutes in, and you were already losing your mind from boredom, that is when the one-eyed dragon passed you note from across the table. You giggled a little at the joke and wrote back on of your own. The two of you passed notes back and forth, every joke or remark you read made you want to break out in laughter. As the council progressed, the two of you got rowdier and rowdier and the both of you were now making strange noises. You were making all sorts of weird sound effects, and Masamune was howling in laughter. TBH they were so funny even Nobunaga couldn’t help but laugh. Everyone was having a good time except Hideyoshi “Okay that’s the third time the two of you have disturbed the council”. Hideyoshi started lecturing you and Masamune about not disturbing the council any further when Nobunaga announced that the council was over. The two of you couldn’t help but laugh in victory. The two of you continued your conversation in which you were playfully roasting each other. Masamune was right; you really were going to be a lot of fun.

Masa love chatting and spending time with you and honestly, he loved the fact that you understood and laughed at all his jokes. What he loves the most is times just before your about to deliver the punch line to a joke, but you burst out laughing for 20 minutes before you can even get it out. And once you finally coke out the punchline between laughs, you continue to giggle at your hilarious sense of humour for another solid 30 minutes. Masamune can’t help but laugh at you laughing at yourself. When the two of you goofballs are around its always a fun time, but beware of some occasional dark humour i.e. the two of you got scolded one day for joking about some dark topics in front of the kids *cough* Mitsunari *cough*

The first night you arrived, and Masamune barged into your room, and Masamune being Masamune, ignored any boundaries of personal space and started to page through one of your books that were laying on your writing desk. It was your fashion portfolio that caught his eye. He loves all the different looks and the way the colours and patterns seemed to complement each other. You had explained to him that you were heavily into fashion and makeup and considered it as part of your self-expression. Masamune smiled his big cat-like smile at you asking if you wanted to meet up with him tomorrow. You honestly didn’t have anything better to do, so you agreed.

You and Masamune spent hours in the market looking at different fabrics, clothes and makeup products. Everything was so different in the past. After spending the whole day shopping your grab both of Masamune’s hands in your, you beam up at his with the brightest smile stating that you had a fun idea. Masa is pretty much keen for anything, so he goes along with your strange idea. The two of you make your way back to his manor. And that is when the two of you hold a fashion show, to show off your new clothes and accessories the two of you bought. It was a lighthearted fun game, filled with banter and giggles. It had actually become somewhat of a tradition now for the two of you to do this little fashion shows in his room after a long day of shopping. You would always bust out laughing at the strange poses Masamune would do. 

Another fun activity the two of you have adopted is poetry slams. Both of you would spend the week writing your best poems and then present them to each other. Just like the fashion shows, these evenings are also always filled to the brim with laugher and banter. The two of you had gotten to know each other fairly well like this, as sometimes the theme of the poems would be dark and depressing, and after the two of you would discuss the emotions behind it. U guys would in those cases always be there for each other lending a friendly ear to listen to the others problems.

Needless to say at this point, Masamune was head over heels for you and somewhere in between the fun poetry slams and fashion shows, his flirty jokes stopped being jokes. He was serious about you. One night he actually kissed you, you were honestly so shook, you ran, you legit sprinted away. Little did you know the tiger was on your heel running after you. He caught you and tacked you to the ground. The 30 second run actually gave you time to sort your feelings, as you too had realized that you had also fallen for the one-eyed dragon. He stared into your eyes questioningly, and that’s when you snaked your hands behind his neck and pulled him down to return the kiss.

The two of you made such a sweet couple. After work, Masamune would always be on the hunt for his kitten to spend time with you. He was super shocked when he heard singing coming from the kitchen. He snuck up to the kitchen and peeked inside. He had to chuckle when he saw you singing your heart out and dancing like nobody was watching. He never knew you could sing and dance like that, he watched you for a while utterly awestruck by you. He was pulled out of his reverie when he smelt something burning and saw a cloud of smoke coming from the oven. You panicked at seeing the smoke and swiftly opened the oven. You didn’t even think when you took the baked, well-burnt goods out the oven without mitts or a cloth. You had legit burnt your hands to a crisp. 

Masamune rushed to your side to evaluate the damage. He got a bag and filled it with ice, putting it on your burnt hands. He then proceeded to rub some medicine on the burns and wrap your hands “Best leave the cooking to me from now on Kitten”. He then took over from where you left off, making you the best meal you had ever tasted. You sat on the kitchen counter to keep him company. The burnt buns and your burnt hands were long forgotten, as the two of you were laughing and chatting away. 

Now, whenever Masamune cooked, you would sit in the kitchen with him and keep him company. The two of you would laugh and dance together in the kitchen. It was always so much fun spending time with him, you especially love it when he sings in his most false off-key voice it is honestly hilarious. You couldn’t help but think he complimented you perfectly. He could cook when you couldn’t even make toast successfully, and you could sing beautifully, while he sounded like some cat in pain.

Another thing Masa absolutely loves, is to sit and listen to you play the flute or viola. The soothing music and the amount of love and emotion you pack into the songs as you play, washes away all the stress and tiredness from his day. He could sit four hours and hours just enchanted by the sound of your music. Even more so if you sing along to the song, you are playing. He loves hearing your beautiful voice. This boy will legit drag you to sit in his lap and nuzzle and kiss you until you agree to play or sing him a song.

Masamune is always by your side supporting you and showering you with love. Whenever you get sad or insecure, Masamune is always there to lighten the mood. Like one time, some maids pissed you off. “ why is my kitten so angry today” Masamune literally came up to you and pinched your cheeks, he then squished your face “Common lemi see that beautiful smile.” When you still had a grumpy expression, he pulled you up and started spontaneously dancing. You couldn’t help but smile at the goofball and join in. Soon your big wide fast movements slowed down, and Masamune pulled you into his arms by your waist. He then dropped his head down and rested it in the crook of your neck. You honestly love quite moments like this just slow dancing in your lover’s arms. He would ask you about your day and would tighten his hold on you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, while you talk out all your frustrations of the day. After he would nibble on your ear whispering how much he loves and adores you.

Masa is like your fun knight in shining armour whether it is comforting you and helping you get to sleep after hearing some crazy scary ghost stories or spending hours upon hours bantering with you while you playfully insult each other, He is always there for you, loving you from the moment the sun rises till the moment it sets. He has truly met his match with you and never has in his life been happier, or laughed so much. The two of you can always be found snuggled together with Masa’s lil tiger cub in the futon after a long day of laughs, fun and adventures

Perhaps it truly was love at first sight after all 

Other potential matches…………….Mitsuhide 

 Hope you enjoyed it, love! and I hope you are staying safe and well🍭 @smol-vy

[harrysbbby]

European Adventure Part 5 - Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: im backkkkk! im so sorry for the delay but i went to a music festival and got absolutely wrecked and now college has gone back so uploads wont be as frequent but i hope you all enjoy this part!

You and Peter strolled along the streets of Prague, a brisk breeze and shared nervousness causing both your teeth to chatter slightly amidst your fumbling awkwardness. You both searched for the words to begin the conversation but failed, continuing to walk in silence. Your bag was slung over your shoulder, holding the very valuable piece of evidence you were going to present to Peter to either confirm or deny your suspicions.

You made your way over a bridge, arms swinging by your sides. With one swift movement the back of your hands brushed. You both quickly pulled them into yourselves, looking at one another and smiling gawkily. Peter chuckled,

“Sucks that the trip got cancelled.” He said, you nodded.

“Yeah really sucks...” there was a lapse of silence before you spoke again, “especially because you didn’t get to complete your plane, hey?” With this sentence your heart gave a pang, but you masked it but looking at the ground.

“Wait- what plan?” Peter’s voice went up at octave as he asked, genuinely confused. His heart lurched as the first thing his mind went to was the elementals and-

“You know with MJ?” you said, raising your eyebrows as if your answer was obvious. He screwed his face in confusion, so you continued, “you know, Paris, the necklace…” you trailed off. Your voice trembled slightly with the hurt you were feeling knowing that the plan was not intended for you, but also because of your inclination that Peter is Spider-Man.

“What?” he queried. He looked at you astonished- mainly because he had not thought about this plan since the bus to Prague. That when he knew Brad had that photo of him he was petrified he was going to show MJ the photo. But ever since you helped him, without judging, without knowing the full situation- hell, you even distracted the whole class, so he could jump out the emergency exited- he started to see you differently. (Especially after accidentally seeing your texts with your sister, thanks to Edith).

You were just the girl in a couple of his classes, the one he had hung out with on the trip, the one who gave him advice on how to get MJ, the one who had made his heart flutter when you asked to do something together and then made his heart sink when he had to bail for saving-the-world-duties. That’s why he had agreed to hang out with you- to spend more time with you, develop his feelings, and maybe tell you he was over MJ.

“Oh that plan,” he clarified, “oh yeah…” he said quietly before perking up again, “actually, NO!”

His sudden rise in volume made you jump slightly. You turned to him and he did the same, stopping in the middle of the bridge.

“Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly, “I mean, I have a new plan actually. And I wanted to speak to you about it- “

“I wanted to talk to you about something too.” He was taken aback by your words but nodded, indicating for you to continue.

You took a deep breath before letting the words you had been dwelling over for day leave your lips:

“Is your new plan to do with Spider-Man?”

His face whitened. His eyes widened. You saw his breathing begin to sharpen. His brows pulled together as he tilted his head to side.

Peter was freaking out- how did you figure it out? He knows he hasn’t been the most discrete he could have been about it, but he didn’t actually think you’d put the dots together. He ever had the stealth suit made so that this exact thing would not occur.

His mouth opened and closed repeatedly as he racked his brain for the right words to say, highly aware that the longer it took to do this, the less he was helping his case.

“What!” his voice squeaked as he narrowed his eyes at you, “No! What!” Me, Spider-Man? I’m not- no way! What, um, what gave you that impression?” he stumbled over his words, crossing his arms in an attempt to act nonchalantly.

You pursed your lips together, finding his words unconvincing.

“Well Peter, I mean there was the white string coming out of you in Venice. The ride to Prague where you literally jumped out of a moving bus! The fact you ditched the Opera and then showed up where the monsters were- you knew my name!”

“Have you been watching me, Y/N?” he asked coyly, raising and eyebrow. You were caught off guard- maybe you had been watching him, you did in fact like him, so it was hard to not watch him- but you played it off by scoffing.

“No!” you said (unpersuasively), “and stop trying to change the subject.” You said sternly, pointing your finger at him. He uncrossed his arms and let his shoulders relax, looking at your sincerely.

“I’m not Spider-Man,” and you could’ve almost believed him, “besides that guy last night was Night Monkey.”

“Then why does Night Monkey have the same webs as Spider-Man?” you said, digging your hand into your bag and fishing out the silver contraption. You handed it to Peter, and he took it curiously, seemingly dropping his façade.

He looked at perplexedly, “What is this?”

“I have no idea, it just came off your web last night-“

“Hey, I said it wasn’t me!” he said almost sharply.

“Then where were you last night?” you countered.

“I was sick…” he said slowly. You rolled your eyes slightly.

“You were the last one to come back!”

“I got lost,” he tried to convince you again, but his attempts fell short.;

“Peter-“ you said, beginning to become extremely irritated, but your frustrations were cut short when a beaming light emitted from the silver object. Peter dropped it as it cast a scene in between the two of you.

The monster was swirling around above you before it disappeared.

“What did you do?” you asked.

“I barely touched it,” Peter grumbled, bending down to inspect the device. “What..” he whispered to himself lightly grazing his fingers along the metal and over the- his?- webs. “Does this mean-“

“is all fake?” you said finishing his sentence. You both looked at each other perplexed. Peter picked up the device holding it between the two of you.

“But we were there, everything was real- the destruction, the fire-“

“Wait, we? Peter you just said-“ he ignored you as he continued to ponder.

“Who would do something like that?” his question was answered as quickly as it was asked. The device began to project again, but this time, swirling around the monster was a trail of puffy green smoke…

“Mysterio.” You said, looking back at Peter. He was already looking at you, eyes opened as wide as they could, a look of sheer terror on his face.

“Y/N” he started, “I am Spider-Man” – your heart skipped at the confession- “And I messed up really bad.” He said, cringing at the end of his sentence.

“Wait, you are Spider-Man?” you clarified. He nodded, his face still fear-stricken. “You’re being serious with me right now?!” you screeched.

“Yes, I am. I’m Spider-Man and I need your help.”

“Oh my god, Peter! You’re SPIDER-MA…” you were cut off by his hand covering your mouth.

“Don’t shout it out for everyone to hear! Come on, I’ll explain everything on the way back to the hotel.” He said, taking your hand in his and leading you back along the bridge. Your heart was already beating fast from the confirmation of your reservations but skipped a beat at the feeling of his skin against yours.

On the way back to the hotel Peter explained what had been going on- how Mysterio had showed up and claimed to be a soldier from another Earth. How Mr Stark (who it took you a moment to realise meant Tony Stark aka Iron Man, once you realised Peter had the Stark “Internship.”) gave him the glasses aka Edith and how Mysterio must have been using the same technology to create the illusions.

“I can’t believe I gave Beck those glasses. I cannot believe I was so stupid,” Peter sighed, shutting the curtains in his room. “He’s probably spying on me right now,” he said moving towards his laptop, “or send drone to come and kill me.”

“You had access to killer drones?” you asked dubiously.

“Yeah” he said, almost too indifferently, “but I didn’t really want them especially after I nearly killed Brad.” He slammed the compute shit and walked over towards you, picking up his phone on the way.

“You nearly killed Brad!” you whisper yelled, looking at him scoldingly.

“It was an accident! Besides you helped me!”

You looked at him in bewilderment, “I didn’t help you kill anyone!”

“Oh no, like, you helped me stop the drone that was going to kill him. You know, ‘baby mountain goats’” he said with what you could only assume was a terrible attempt at impersonating your voice.

“Oh,” you said, nodding your head slightly, still confused as to how that situation got to the point that Brad nearly died.

“Anyway,” Peter said shaking his head, changing the subject, “I have to call Mr Fury and tell him that Beck’s a fraud, but I think he tapped my phone…” he said trailing off, looking up at you for support.

“What are you going to do?” you asked softly. You could see the cogs turning within his rich brown eyes.

“Uh, well I need my suit,” he said, grabbing the large black bag from the corner arm chair. “And I have to go to Berlin and talk to Mr Fury in person.”

In one swift movement he unzipped the bag and emptied its contents on to the bed, before moving his arms to the bottom of his torso and lifting his shirt over his head.

He turned to look at you in embarrassment, eye wide open. Your eyes however were drifting lower and lower from his eyes down to his toned chest…

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um,” he started, still looking at you but at a loss for words.

“Oh! Sorry,” you said blushingly before turning around. You hair created a curtain around your head, but you found yourself twisting slowly on the spot to have another look-

“No! That’s so wrong and pervy” you thought, but still found yourself trying to catch a glimpse of his abs through the gaps of your hair. You saw movement from the corner of your eye and turned to see the hotel room door open. There stood Ned, a look of mild stress on his face.

Peter turned around and saw his best friend and sighed, “Oh, Ned, perfect.”

“Costume looks great!” he spoke quickly, eyes darting between you and Peter. You narrowed your eyes at him, “for the costume party…” his voice trailed off as Peter shook his head.

“She knows, I told her.” He clarified, and you see Ned visibly relax against the door frame.

“That’s cool,” he nodded.

“Technically, I think I figured it out,” you said somewhat cheekily. You turned to Peter with your brows raised when a voice carried from behind you.

“See, another person figured it out Peter. You have got to get better at this.” MJ was now stood behind Ned, arms crossed across her chest. Peter frowned at her, but you could only see his eyes squint because of the suit.

“MJ knows too?” you asked.

“Yeah, I figured out a long time ago,” she replied, “like, a really long time ago. You know, you really should have a better hold on your identity by now…”

“We can work on better hiding my identity when I get back,” Peter interrupted, waving a hand dismissively at her.

“Okay,” she said looking disinterested, “I’ll pencil you in.” she deadpanned. Peter grunted, clearly frustrated with his friends antics before continuing.

“Mysterio is a fraud,” he explained to them. Ned looked confused.

“But he saved me and Betty’s lives. Y/N was there too.”

“It was fake,” you stated, “he’s using illusion tech.”

“He’s using these hologram projectors to create the whole thing.” Peter continued. Ned’s eyes widen whilst Michelle’s continued to be impartial.  

“Wow that’s…crazy.” He said anxiously.

“Yeah,” you sighed, looking at Peter. Both Ned and MJ noticed the way your eyes lingered on one another. MJ’s lips fell into a smirk whilst Ned said,

“Were you guys working the case or something?” he laughed light. You nodded,

“Kind of, although, it has been mostly me,” you whispered the last part, bring the back of your hand to the side of your lips. Ned’s brows creased.

“Look Ned,” Peter said stepping forward, “I need you to call May and ask her to call Mr Harrington and say that I’m going to be staying with family in Berlin until this all blows over.” He spoke quickly, you having to blink a couple times to keep up and comprehend what he was saying.

Without hesitation Ned affirmed, “yep, got it.”

“Wow,” you said in astonishment, “you came up with that so fast. You lied so easily,” looking between the two of them in surprise. Ned chuckled humbly.

“Get used to it,” MJ said, picking at one of her nails, clearly not as invested in this as the rest of you were.

“I gotta go,” Peter said, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder as he moved passed you. As he opened the curtains you saw a glint of light reflective off some silver.

“Wait,” you stopped him, grabbing the projector and chucking it at him. “You’re going to need this.” He caught it in one hand with ease.

“Don’t tell anyone about this okay?” he said, “anyone who knows about this in danger.” You nodded. He pulled his mask down over his eyes and with a THWIP had swung out the window.

You let out a sigh and let your shoulder relax. Ned’s voice cause you to turn to him.

“So, you know too?” he said. “That’s cool, we have a bit of a squad going here,” he laughed comically, referring his hand over his should to MJ who was still stood by the door. “But you know I’ve known first and the longest… but it’s not a competition,” he assured.

You laughed slightly at him, “Okay, Ned.” You said turning back around to look out the window thinking- What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

Tags:

If it didn’t tag you it meant it wouldn’t let me

@vanillanestor @wonders-of-the-multiverse @sweetdarlingholland @basically-thanks @deku-nyan @awesomefandomsunited @thegirlwiththeimpala @inkphilosopher @hardyxlove @mxxkscreate-write @eridanuswave @aiianovna @i-rather-not-say @irxnspxder @emilymarie0422 @exquisitebts @silhouettecrow @softrdj @dasydni @spnsquirrel @foxylupines @thomasstanleyholland2013 @thatpersonwithissues @galaxyrose10 @philophxbicrxmantic @belles-garden @morgannope @fanficscuziranout @magikmina @njallhorannjh @noa-caffery @kaptainkool-aid @yes-imshe @nerdy-98 @itsjustgoobi @magicalturmoil  @secretagentben @ddaeing @itsbebeyyy @writtenbypics @season-four-is-imminent @wakandahoesarethose @bellamyblakemorley @phluffyphantom @sleepygal124 @olliekookie @abitofeverythinggg @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @tiny-friggin-human @jackiehollanderr @edwisenpai @ettorah @divergentjade @thelostandweeping  @lovesteverogersbaeworld @spideyspoods @spn-imagines-fics @willowbowie @cats-before-us @fangirl-127 @cleoprker @leilei-draws @unhealthyobsessionwithmarvel @xxr-88xx @girlontumblur @oofparker @greenarrowhead @aestheticsandmarvel @cubedtriangle @fangeekkk @sincereleygmg @ajxlawley @ibookishqueen @demonsintheair @blizzbx @adoringinsanity @elektraliu @fienneskarsgard

[helloalycia]

photoshoot // brie larson

summary: you're working at your uncle's studio as his personal assistant, when Brie Larson is the next celebrity to stop by for a photoshoot

warning/s: none, except second hand embarrassment maybe 😂

author's note: I cringed writing this, that's all am saying lmao. But seriously, Brie can run me over with her car and I'd thank her.

masterlist

          "Think you can grab me a coffee, Y/N?" my uncle asked, messing around with his camera.

         I saluted before going to the snacks area to pour him a coffee. I was at yet another photoshoot with my uncle since I was his personal assistant. I was at a time in my life where I wasn't sure what I wanted to do – I had dropped out of university and didn't have any plans, so my parents encouraged me to work as my uncle's personal assistant at his photography agency.

         Of course, they 'encouraged' me, which meant I had no choice, but I didn't mind since I got paid for it and I pretty much got to meet celebrities every now and then. Yeah, he was a celebrity photographer.

         I had to do mediocre tasks like get coffee for him, make sure his phone would always be answered if he couldn't answer it himself, fetch his lenses when he left them in the car. It wasn't too bad and he wasn't annoying about it. Plus how could I say no to decent pay and meeting celebrities?

         So, here I was in the midst of preparation for yet another celebrity to be photographed. It was some actress – Brie Larson – who I wasn't familiar with nor seen much of, but apparently she was quite the star. I just wasn't that much into movies, I guess.

         "She's going to be huge," I heard one of the tech guys saying as I poured my uncle a coffee. "Did you know she's going to be Captain Marvel?"

         I smiled to myself, finding the excitement around set really cute. I put a lid on the coffee before going back to my uncle to give it him.

         "For you," I said, handing it him with a smile. "Anything else I can do?"

         He thanked me and took a sip before looking around. "Not for me at the moment. Miss Larson is currently in hair and makeup, so I guess you can just hang around until she's ready."

         I chuckled. "Sounds cool, but I still don't see why it's necessary to call her 'Miss'. I mean, Miss Larson, Miss Kane, Miss Cabello, Mr Mendes, Mr Horan – they have names."

         My uncle gave me an amused smile. "Fine. Brie is in hair and makeup. Happy now?"

         I grinned. "Ecstatic."

         He rolled his eyes playfully. "You're a handful, you know that?"

         "Yeah, but you love me."

         He sighed, resisting the urge to smile. "Mhm."

         I walked away with the satisfaction of knowing I had bugged him, before going to find a friend I'd made whilst working here. Her name was Yaz and she was one of the caterers. It may be a little obvious why we became friends...

         "Surprised you haven't devoured the food spread," she said when she saw me approaching her.

         I glared at her playfully. "I've eaten already, thank you very much."

         She laughed. "Of course, my bad... so, you excited to meet Brie Larson?"

         I sat in the seat beside her that looked out onto the set built for the photoshoot. "Er, I guess? I don't really know who she is if I'm being honest."

         Yaz raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? She just got announced as Marvel's new superhero."

         "Captain Marvel," I repeated what I'd heard earlier, not knowing what the big deal was.

         Yaz stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "Uh, duh! Do you know how big she's gonna be? Like, Chris Evans big. Robert Downey Jr. big. Scarlett Johansson big."

         "So, big," I agreed, snickering now.

         Yaz sighed dramatically. "You're not listening."

         I laughed. "I am! I just never got into those superhero films. Iron Man, Captain America, Superman."

         "Superman is from DC, not Marvel," Yaz corrected.

         "Exactly my point," I stated, giving her a knowing look. "I mean, congrats to Brie for becoming big. But like, what's the big deal?"

***

         "You didn't say she was literally the most beautiful human being ever," I said to Yaz, jaw dropped as I watched my uncle snap pics of the blonde goddess before us.

         Yaz chuckled quietly. "You're so gay."

         I smacked her arm lightly. "Do you not see it? She's literally stunning!"

         Yaz nodded in agreement. "I can agree to that..."

         Brie was finally being photographed for the first costume change of the photoshoot and Yaz and I, not being needed at the moment, were sat with a clear view of the shoot.

         I was used to seeing stunning celebrities being photographed all the time. Did it make me feel like a peasant? Yes. Did I always want to marry them on sight? Of course! But this was different. She was like, totally hot. And I could say that, right? I mean, I'd never see her again. No biggie.

         "When does her movie come out again?" I mumbled to Yaz, still stuck on the wonder before me. Damn, she had a good jawline.

         "It's not been announced," Yaz said, laughing at me. "Thought you didn't like superhero films."

         I cleared my throat. "If she's the lead, I'll watch anything."

         Yaz laughed at my response, but once again, I was simply admiring the blonde as she laughed it up during her photoshoot.

         Eventually, a break was called and the first thing I did was drag Yaz to the snacks table as if I was the one who'd been hard at work.

         "These mozzarella puffs are amazing," I complimented Yaz, before stuffing three more in my mouth.

         "You've told me a million times," she said, watching me with amusement.

         "And I'll tell you a million more," I retorted, grinning at her. "Never stop making them please."

         Yaz laughed and filled her plate with some food. "Glad to hear, I won't... we've got another hour to go yet. You might wanna stop stuffing yourself."

         I sighed, glancing over my shoulder to see Brie and my uncle reviewing the photos he'd taken.

         "I don't think I can watch this for a whole other hour," I said, looking back to Yaz. "I mean, I'm used to celebrities rocking up here and looking like Gods amongst us mere mortals, but–"

         "Y/N." Yaz laughed, shaking her head.

         "What? It's true!" I said, putting my plate down on the table so I could make a point. "It's like Hollywood doesn't hire ugly actors ever! They're all hot pieces of ass, ready to be served to the world through my uncle's lens! And now we've got the hottest piece of ass of all in studio!"

         "Y/N–"

         "No, Yaz, seriously, think about it," I continued, on a roll now. "The last time everyone was this excited was when Shawn Mendes was here. Yeah, he was pretty cute, but damn, Brie Larson? She looks like she could bench press everyone in this room without breaking a sweat. She makes Shawn Mendes look like a worm."

          “Y/N, seriously, just–"

         "Okay, okay, I'm done," I said, picking up my plate again. "All I'm saying is Brie Larson is hot."

         As I put another mozzarella puff into my mouth, I noticed Yaz smiling awkwardly. I was about to question her, but then I heard someone clear their throat from behind me, making me turn around.

         "Oh, shit," I mumbled, my mouth full of cheese.

         Out of all of the people who could have been stood behind me, it just had to be Brie Larson herself.

         "Hi, erm, I just wanted to ask if you guys knew where I could get some more water?" she asked, a faint pink blush on her cheeks.

         I was speechless, unable to do anything other than stare. I'd just said all of that. And she heard. Everything. Everything.

         "Yeah, I'll go get some more," Yaz mumbled politely, before leaving Brie and I alone.

         I came back to my senses after thirty more seconds of silence. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I blurted, eyes wide with embarrassment.

         "It's, erm, it's okay," she got out, obviously a little embarrassed herself. "Technically you didn't say anything insulting, so, I guess, thanks...?"

         I scrunched my face up with awkwardness. "I called you a hot piece of ass and I'm very sorry. I'm not trying to objectify you or anything. I mean, I'm not saying you aren't a hot piece of ass, because you are, but like, you're probably more." I widened my eyes when I realised how offensive that sounded. "I mean, of course you're more! I don't know because I don't know you, but yeah, you're, erm, hot, but like, other things too, y'know?"

         Brie suppressed the urge to laugh which made me feel a little better. Maybe she wasn't offended after all.

         "Thank you," she said, her eyes meeting mine which made my heart have wild palpitations. Shit, why did she have to have such kind eyes?

         I forgot how to breathe as I said, "No problem."

         "Here you go, Miss Larson," Yaz said, returning with several bottles of water. She set them down on the table before handing Brie one. "Sorry about that."

         Brie shook her head. "No worries. Thank you."

         I smiled awkwardly as she walked away, slightly confused. I released a breath before looking to Yaz with wide eyes.

         "Why didn't you tell me she was stood right behind me?!" I whisper-shouted.

         "Are you kidding me?!" she countered, also whisper-shouting. "I tried several times!"

         I face-palmed. "Oh my god, I just called Brie Larson a hot piece of ass several times. To her face."

         "At least you don't have to see her again, like, face to face," Yaz reasoned, shrugging.

         I nodded with relief. "True. Very true."

         "Y/N?"

         I sighed as I heard my uncle call for me. I waved goodbye to Yaz before going to my uncle, who was stood on set with–

         "Oh, shit."

         "Brie, I would like to introduce you to my niece, Y/N Y/L/N," my uncle said, a proud smile on his lips.

         I smiled awkwardly, stopping by my uncle's side. Brie looked to me with a friendly smile before pursing her lips, suppressing a grin, when she saw who it was.

         "She's my personal assistant here," my uncle continued, not sensing what was going on here. "She's been here for a while now and I'm sure she appreciates you being here as much as–"

         "She knows what I think," I cut my uncle off, rubbing my temples as I felt a headache coming on. "Right, Brie?"

         Brie laughed. "Lovely to meet you again." She looked to my uncle, who was confused. "I met her no more than a minute ago. Literally." She looked back to me, an amused glint in her eyes. "Nice to put a name to a face."

         I felt my stomach turn as I grew embarrassed all over again.

         "Well," my uncle concluded, a confused smile on his face. He looked to me. "I guess I don't need to introduce Brie then. She's an actress and a–"

         "Hot piece off ass?" Brie filled in, enjoying watching me squirm apparently.

         "Huh?" My uncle was definitely confused now.

         "I'm gonna be over there," I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb, feeling my cheeks heat up. I looked to Brie, who was most definitely enjoying watching me squirm. "Nice to meet you... Brie...bye..."

         I walked away as fast I could, hearing her laugh from behind me.

         God damn it. Why did she have to be so hot?

[aabaker1]

Costume Quest Season One Part Two

A few days have passed since the rest of Costume Quest season one dropped, but I’ll stick to the Spoiler routine just in case. 

Brief non-spoiler thoughts. Wow, this was good. They didn’t do a couple of things I thought they would, they did do a couple of things I thought they would, but in ways I didn’t expect that were ten times better. And I got at least one thing spot on. 

Anyway, the rest below the cut off.

Oh, wow did that get epic. I admit it started off a bit week and there were some odd things I didn’t quite get behind. Since when does the president of a candy factory run a town? Okay yeah, Auburn Hollow is literally a factory town, but I’m pretty sure they would elect a mayor and city council at some point. Also, since when is a company president chosen in a public election? I get that they needed to put the nougat supply in Bob’s hands, but yeesh. Anyway from here on episode by episode.

Breaker/Breaker:

Yeah, the plots for this one and Factory Tour were spoiled by IMDB. Still, nice to see how they played out. I like to see Everette getting super serious about his dad. This does lead to the lead to the standard-issue with shapeshifters becoming, vehicles, though. Um, you do realize you’re riding inside someone's body, right? 

 Also, since when do people get seasonal allergies for a day or two at most? Okay, Nougat is a mineral that can be processed into candy. Okay, fine. But, now it’s also a crystal that can reflect sunlight and make a rainbow? Look, can we just pick a method of making science cry and stick to it, please?

Factory Tour:

Yeah, IMDB spoiled Oona as the dragon, but it was still nice to see her in action. It was also nice seeing Wren get a taste of humble pie. Hmm, you know Ren, maybe the hundred plus-year-old monster hunter who can become a dragon doesn’t need your help? Just a thought.

Stuck in the Middle with Toots:

Sigh, yeah I know Wren had to learn not to put too much faith in idols. But, I was really pulling for Rudy to be a decent person, here. It’s not to see Wren give someone the benefit of the doubt, even though it came back to bite her in the end. 

Scout’s Honour:

What...was this? We see Reynold’s role as secret-keeper wear on him and Norm cover for him, okay, that’s fine. But, Reynold retreats to the history wing of the factory again? I thought we covered this, already. Plus Scout just comes out of nowhere. And we’re stuck with a cliche plot about someone making a friend, only to have the friend betray them the first time an opportunity comes along. Scout’s design was nice though, gave me an old school Real Monsters! vibe with the foot hands. 

 But, am I the only one thinking Reynold dumping her on an island was massively out of character for him? Okay, yeah desperation moment, but still. Though the woman’s reaction to Reynold and Scout in the bathroom was priceless. Also, good call going with healthy snacks, Reynold. Especially since everyone’s been binging on nougat for the whole show.

Schmooz Cruise:

Okay, I’ll just say it. I thought this was going to be Lucy’s mom going on a singles cruise and Lucy getting jealous. Turns out it was Everette getting jealous of Benji. It’s a nice Iron that Everette, who is the tallest of the four, is also the most prone to act childish. And it’s nice to see him start to grow out of it. Also, I was wondering when that girl was gonna show up, I mean she’s in the opening credits. Hey, Lucy gets in on the crossplay with Wren. And she makes a fine pirate, though it looks like the Gorton’s Fisherman has let himself go a bit. :) And is it me, or is Reynold having far to much fun with that merman costume.

Perfect Vision:

I had no idea what to expect with this one going on. Nice to see the kids getting creative with the costumes to campaign for Oona. But, then we go into another cliche plot, this time someone having a vision and becoming paranoid about it. Someone should have told Lucy you can’t force fate.

A couple quick points. We got a tease of Lucy’s mom being a monster. And it’s nice to see that Lucy would be cool with it. Though we get some foreshadowing with Ren’s attitude. And did Lucy not catch Wren threatening her mom, or is Lucy just used to Wren? How the heck does an ice cream give itself brain freeze? And Wren plays up the stereotype that geese are evil. Also nice to see those two monsters again. They seem to be a bit of a couple, which is an unexpected bit of character growth.

Dragon’s and Dry-cleaners:

Once again, Wren’s recklessness comes to bite her. And we finally get Oona’s personality as a jaded loner who doesn’t think she needs anybody. I really thought Wren was going to learn a lesson here, but no. That was saved for later on. Still, cool fight scene. 

In the mouth of Badness:

Buckle up, kids, here we go. The rest of the episodes are a straight shot to the finale. They almost pull a 24 here. It’s such a shame that it had to start on a sunch a mediocre note. I mean seriously, an eating contest? It was basically an excuse to resolve Scout’s plot, but at least it’s nice to see that Bob can be too arrogant for his own good. But, the main fight, inside of Bob’s mouth? I mean just why? That was some major cringe material, especially for people who are allergic to bee stings.

Deal With It:

And this gets real, quick Nice touch calling back to the Fun Room. I knew Ren using the doggy door would bite her eventually. It’s nice to see Norm step up and get active, though he’s not really good at it, or making deals to help people. 

And the secret is blown, in the worst, way possible. I honestly wonder what Reynold was thinking in that moment. Not hard to know what Wren was thinking. But, it’s nice to see that Everette and Lucy were willing to be reasonable. And really nice to see Norm get some action. Speaking of action...

Sibling Showdown:

I felt fairly cathartic when I read the title of this one. I knew Wren’s bossy, aggressive, attitude would push Reynold too far at some point. And it’s nice to see Reynold actually hold his own, here. He may not be all that good with the physical stuff, he’s been living with Wren his whole life, he knows what buttons to push. Sadly, I thought the two would hug it out here. I should have known Wren could never let something go so easy.

What about Norm?:

But, it did lead to this nice episode. Wren starts off in practically a berserker rage. I love that that had to dump her in the fun room just to get her to listen. So now we get Norm’s backstory. It’s nice seeing the original four kids, again. But, really, Oona’s the only one we get to see out of costume? I know budget limits and all, but would it have killed you to at least give us a glimpse of the other three? Man, Norm had a harsh life. And if people didn’t hate Bob before, they do now. Also only Oona gets pissed at Norm, the other three see angry Oona and just nope out of the whole thing. Honestly, both Wren and Oona give me a bit of a Lucy vibe. I just wonder if that was intentional. And Lucy finally realizes how dumb she was being. It’s nice to see them make up and also nice to see Wren’s tantrum come back to bite her. “Uh, where’s Reynold?” “Oh, crap.”

O Grubbin, Where Art Though:

Not that Reynold needed any help. I admit I thought Lucy would use her Edit form to start a grubbin uprising, but no, leave it to Reynold to think his way out of a problem. The two monsters Lucy made friends with are back and Oona finally starts to thaw a bit. Nice to see Rudy get a big damned heroes moment, even if it did get him grubbinized. And it’s especially nice to see Reynold throw Bob’s arrogance back in his face. But, this is only the wind-up to the final act...

All Hallow’s Eve:

Hoo boy, did they pull out all the stops? Wren learned that you shouldn’t put your faith in idols, but she also learns that sometimes people can surprise you. And the kids left their best battle costumes home. Hey, at least this way it gives them time to spend a few moments with their parents and Oona and Norm a chance to settle things. I pretty much knew Oona was going to be the friend Norm lost. But it’s still touching to realize that Oona never forgot Norm, even if she never forgave him.

Okay, brief quality time moments. Wren and Reynold carving a pumpkin together. Wren could never quite spit out an I’m sorry, but in the end she didn’t need to. Reynold gets her. Also nice to see the mom warning about no fighting and the twins looking very sheepish. If she only knew.

Nice to see that Everette has gotten over Benji’s girlfriend. And it also shows that Benji hasn’t grown up too much, while Everette has grown up just enough. I Wonder if that Masked Rider costume is going lead into anything?

And now my favorite moment of the whole episode, maybe the whole series. Lucy and her mom sit down and hash things out. And Lucy reveals all. The mom just thinks she’s playing pretend of course, right up until Lucy turns into Edit. Yeah, there’s no real arguing with that. Also, Lucy just turned into a monster and told her mom she and her friends are going to battle monsters for the fate of the entire world and the mom’s immediate response is, you know it’s getting chilly out, maybe take a jacket? It’s not as bad as it seems. The mom just had a traffic jam in her head at that moment and that happened to be the first thing that worked itself loose. I just wish we could have seen the talk they had later.

And factory Brawl! In this corner, four kids, an old woman with magic costumes and a friendly monster with a lot of determination. And in this corner, a factory load of monsters with an unlimited supply of power-ups. Even though it was obvious this wouldn’t go anywhere, it was still cool as hell.

Also, stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself! That gag will never get old. It looks like Oona was doing a little prep work. And Norm finally gets to follow in father’s footsteps with the portal juice.  Also, wren taking a page from Reynold’s book and using her head, nice touch.

 And Rudy pulls a double, shutting off his own movie premier and rallying the kids to the amusement park. Of course, Wren points out they don’t have a bunch of magic costumes for them. But, then Lucy remembers Mr. Elephant. Now, I thought they would go giant robot, here. But, they did one much better. Turning the park rides into king-kong sized versions of the original costumes, much cooler. Is it me, or did Bob kinda go down like a chump a little bit? He got in a little defense, but not a whole lot of offense. Still, it was the culmination of the kids working together and Bob’s arrogance getting the better of him. Anyone else think the portals weren’t open for very long? How are they supposed to organize an invasion when they have access to their reinforcements for an hour tops?

And a new day dawns. Nice to see everybody getting on with life. Oona and Norm in the factory, the kids commenting on the cool monster fight. And Rudy and the other two Grubbins are still around. Can that blonde kid ever catch a break?

Wow, this was epic But, there’s something I’ve got to wonder. Lucy told her mom the truth and proved it. A theater full of kids and at least one teenager participated in a giant monster fight. And pretty much half the town saw four park rides get up and beat down a giant monster. So, is the lid off at this point? I mean it’s going to take some CIA level covering up to put this genie back in the bottle. Also, are Wren, Reynold, Everette, and Benji going to have conversations of their own with their parents? 

Well, that’s all for now. Looking forward to Heroes on Holiday next month. Now I know it’s a Christmas special, which are usually standalone stories because networks usually play them at holiday time instead of the regular rotation.

But, this is Amazon Prime and that rule doesn’t apply anymore. It could be a standalone story, or it could follow up on All Hallow’s Eve. And this a possibility it could do more. 

Now, I know that this is a totally different continuity from the games, but still my mind goes to three words. Grubbins on Ice. An expansion of the first game that is set at Christmas time and sees the kids dragged to Repugia. I don’t know if Costume Quest has earned a second season, or not. But, it makes you think. It’s awfully convenient they picked a Christmas special. Anyway, if there is a season two I just hope we don’t have to sit around and wait seven months for the second half. That did not work, at all!

[elizabeth-234]

Chapter Four

Someone to Care

Chapter Three

Tony was oddly nervous. Scratch that, it seemed that lately anytime he thought about the kid he would feel like he was standing on the edge of a canyon. They were going to meet. Face to face. Without any masks.

They selected some small cafe called The Split Bean near Queens, which was where the kid was from he guessed. After messaging back and forth a few times Tony just wanted to make certain the kid knew what he was getting into. He wanted to see his face and know that he wasn’t doing this because Tony Stark was asking him, but because he thought it was right.

On a more positive note, Tony was going to show him the suit. It wasn’t completely finished but with the deadline coming up, Tony wanted the kid to have time to practice and get used to the new tech. He wasn’t sure what the kids fighting style was, if he had one at all, and he still needed to program some of the more complex logistics. Which took time to upgrade it.

It would be quite a bit different than the sweat suit he was using now. Snorting to himself, Tony sat down with his coffee. He pictured the clumpy and ill-fitting suit. Yes, this new one would work much better. After all, he had designed it and had even added some new tricks up its sleeve, so to speak.

He had made sure to get to the cafe earlier than their designated time in order to scope the place out. It was quaint, comfortable. The wood tables were worn and a gentle flow of music seeped out of the walls. He sipped the coffee and was surprised at how good it was. Setting the drink down, Tony looked around. Almost time. 


It was pretty late so there weren’t too many people here. A couple sat in the corner to his left; whispering and laughing at something the other said. There was a man with headphones in, eyes glazed over. Tony could empathize with that. Sometimes you just couldn’t get anything done. The barista was busy drawing a geometric design around the new promotion on a black board. It was an intricate drawing and he had winked and wished Tony a nice evening when he ordered. Tony would have to make sure to make some donation to the coffee shop.

The door rang and a blast of cold air seeped through the air at the same time that Friday had alerted him to some updates about Caps whereabouts. She had spotted some minor movements that could be connected to their group.

A throat cleared and caught his attention. There stood a girl. A young woman. She was much shorter than he was and her bangs, which cut straight across her forehead, were curly like the rest of her chocolate colored hair. The girl’s face was clear of makeup and her large brown eyes rested just above his left ear. Her feet kept shifting back and forth and Tony wondered if he was in her spot or something. He went to get up but stopped at the sound of a voice: the voice from the roof.

“Hi, um Mr. Stark, Sir.” Tony froze in realization. If the tone hadn’t given it away, the formality of address was enough to stop any doubts.

How could this have happened and how could Tony have missed this? The kid was a girl. Why hadn’t he just bit the bullet and had Friday tell him all the information she had obtained?

Because you didn’t want to pry.A thought came sneaking up from the back of his mind.

It didn’t really matter and, of course, didn’t change anything. Tony was just shocked. And then his shock heated and bubbled when he realized how much he had assumed about the kid. How much he had borrowed from his inner notions of what a hero should be. He remembered his indignation at meeting a quieter figure on the roof and thinking it strange that they hadn’t acted more like himself.

Tony would just have to get used to it is all. He looked up from the table and the girl’s face was bright red. Vision would have had a run for his money. Swallowing, he felt the tips of his ears heat up at making her wait.

“Here,” She said and thrust a small brown bag onto his side of the table. Tony stared blankly and looked up. “It’s a scone. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anything to eat.” She looked away towards the end of the sentence, her voice getting quieter with each word.

Tony wasn’t sure what to do. Two surprises right in a row and he was acting like he had just stepped foot on this planet. He didn’t know the last time someone spent money on him. Most people just assumed he was going to pay for everything and he was okay with that. He had money, why not use it? A bonus was it often gave him leverage over less savory people. But this person, this practical stranger bought him something for no other reason than to be nice. He felt even worse for assuming anything about her.

“It’s blueberry. You don’t have to eat…” She started before he interrupted.

“Sorry kid,” He said with a smile. “It looks great. Thank you. Sit down and please just Tony. Blueberry is my favorite” And damned if it didn’t become his favorite flavor as soon as he saw a pleased come over her face. As he spoke he gestured to the seat her hands were resting on. Oh, her hands were so small.

She looked around and slid, silently, into the seat.

Tony took a moment to assess her. Her head was turned slightly down, shoulders were hunched over, and a frown tugged at her lips. She seemed so young.

Okay, be the adult here Tony.

“So, how was your day?” He cringed. Was that the best Tony Stark could do? But as soon as that thought crossed his mind she looked up from beneath her eyelashes and gave a small smile. That was progress.

“It was good. You?” Short, but she still replied.

“Never been better, kid. Friday, you’ll meet her later, was just telling me about some movement that is relevant to the situation.”

Her smile waned and a glint of anger flashed in her eyes. Tony wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“Mr. Stark. I just wanted to say,” A deep breath, “I just wanted to start off by saying that I’m sorry.”

Tony blanched at that. What the hell did she have to be sorry for? Was she pulling out? He wouldn’t have been surprised but Tony was disheartened to hear it. He had been excited to start working with her. It was one of the few things recently he had put energy into. She had asked some complicated questions that had shown thought and intelligence that had Tonywanting to converse more. But even more prominent was the shock that she came in person to do it. He would have probably just sent an email or would have gotten Sasha to do it.

He put his hands up in a sign of defeat. “Hey, kid. It’s okay. I get it. Thank you for coming to tell me in person.” He went to stand up but was stopped when a hand landed on his forearm. Tony didn’t think he could have moved if he wanted to.

If possible the kid’s face looked even redder and she was biting her lip. Slowly, she applied pressure and Tony sank back to his seat. She stared at her hand as if it had acted without her approval, but a steely resolve cameover her mien.

“I think- I think that you misunderstood me, Mr. Stark.” She looked right at him. The brown in her eyes swirling like a tide pool. “I’m not turning down your offer. I just wanted to say I think Mr. Captain America is wrong, Sir. I think what he is doing is wrong and I’m sorry that you have to fix it and I’m here to help in anyway I can.”

Tony sat there stunned into silence, once again, for who knows how long. This girl was too much. First the scone and now she was apologizing for something out of the realm of her responsibility. A buzzing noise swarmed in his mind. The kid looked just as uncomfortable after the speech she made but she didn’t look ashamed. In fact, if Tony was a betting man, and he wasn’t anymore, he would have said that she looked proud.

He went back to picking around the edges of the scone bag when a hand entered his field of vision.

The pads of her fingers were calloused and her nails were trimmed and polished in multi-colors. Tony favored the red color on her middle finger. Slowly, he shook it and noticed the difference in size and strength between the two.

“I’m Peyton, PeytonParker. It’s nice to meet you.” Tony smiled at her name.

“And I’m Tony Stark. Billionaire, Philanthropist and playboy… Um green energy supernova.” Her eyebrows rose mockingly at his hesitation but she smiled widely and lit up the room.

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

Looking back on it Tony was grateful for many of the insights she gave about the situation, quiet though she was at first. As they continued on with their conversation, Peyton became more outgoing in her comments. And when Tony asked for her advice on a tactic, she looked like he asked her if she wanted a million dollars.

Yes, it had gone rather well. The two of them moved on from talking about the situation to more of the technical aspects of the Iron Man suit. Tony was astonished to learn that she guessed many of the ins and outs of the arc reactor and it had been pleasant to talk with someone who understood what it was. Once their mugs were long drained they walked out to his car. Tony presented her the case and when she saw the suit, she flipped. Literally, a backflip.

She lost all inhibitions in her face and again the sun was shining.

“Thank you. Thank you, Thank… Mr. Stark. It looks amazing! You made this? I can’t thank you enough!” She said bouncing in place.

“Easy there, kid. You haven’t even seen it in action yet. We still have to calibrate it and change any settings that bother you. You’ll need to come to the lab and we can fine tune anything you know will help you out. I will need to adjust some of the algorithms in it and…” He trailed off when he caught sight of her face, so different than it had been before.

It was now a pink tone and her hands had a slight tremble. He wasn’t sure if it was from the excitement or something else.

“Really, Mr. Stark. This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.” He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed slightly.

“Think nothing of it kid. I enjoyed doing it.” She nodded at that and gave another smile.

That delicate smile had been worth every hour he had spent working on it, Tony thought. It had been so sincere and had shone through her eyes.

He still felt good, remembering it. Hell, he was still thinking about it a week afterward. Her reaction was everything he had hoped for. The kid, Peyton, had appreciated the work he put in; had been so sincere about it. Tony knew that the other people in his life appreciated him but for some reason this felt different.

The kid was so different than he had first thought. She was so much more.

Tony really needed to call her by her name but it was what he had been calling her for what seemed like forever. And you know what they say about old habits.

Thank you to everyone!

Chapter Five

[thesinglesjukebox]

TAYLOR SWIFT FT. BRENDON URIE - ME!

[3.53]

Things have changed for "ME!"...

Alex Clifton: A lead single should not make me think, "Oh, is this the Kidz Bop version?" [3]

Abdullah Siddiqui: This isn't the Old Taylor or the New Taylor. It's some entity so devoid of anything remotely substantive it doesn't warrant a human name. And I'm not very familiar with this Brendon Urie, but his delivery of the line "and you can't spell awesome without 'me'" sounds like the sonic embodiment of a Disney XD mid-season replacement choking on its own blue-cotton-candy puerilism. And I know that makes literally no sense but it's honestly the best way I know how to describe it. [2]

Taylor Alatorre: On the one hand, this was designed to subvert as few expectations and step on as few toes as a late 2010s Taylor Swift lead single can. On the other hand, it commits so hard to the bit that it ends up becoming a Lonely Island parody of the kind of post-Glee positivity pop that fueled the Hillary Clinton presidential campaign. Our culture may be more jaundiced since then, but the market for that stuff hasn't gone away, and Swift and Urie deliver the message in a way that feels more true to how people actually consume those songs. Rather than offering the prize of social recognition as a package deal with some nebulous invocation of societal change, they make a beeline for the inner voice of narcissism that resides within the overworked neoliberal subject. They listen to that voice, they give it what it wants, and the result is a communal celebration of self-regard that, in all its candidness and mutual puffery, makes you feel connected to something larger than just another grueling megastar album cycle. Unfortunately, that "something larger" happens to be the same collective unconscious that apparently just wants Panic to be the "High Hopes" band now. [7]

Jessica Doyle: It's catchy, granted, but so insistently, aggressively vapid that I am resisting the obvious conclusion that Taylor Swift actually thinks that this is work to be proud of. It makes more sense as a reconciliation of three opposing forces: she wants to make music; she feels responsible for the multi-hundred-dollar machine she's spent half her life putting in motion; and she dislikes and resents the performer (maybe also the person) she's become. That would explain pairing a catchy song with lyrics such as "can't spell awesome without ME!" and a video whose final shots suggest she is actually made of toxic rainbow sludge. [3]

Katherine St Asaph: A garish mess in exactly the same way "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" was. Yelpy vocals, forced whimsy, obnoxious spoken word, slapdash everything -- well, almost everything. The chorus is the second song in a year to rip off Emeli Sandé's "Next to Me," which really wasn't in need of two ripoffs. The old Taylor can't come to the phone right now, because she's been replaced with the New Boring. Brendon Urie is the best thing about this, though I'd rather listen to three minutes of him singing Vines. [3]

Tobi Tella: Can something be inoffensive enough that it becomes offensive? It's hard to imagine a song this generically pleasant and basic angering people off the heels of some of the Reputation singles, but here we are. It's disappointing to see Taylor put out yet another vapid lead single devoid of any deep themes, but goddamn if this didn't grow on me almost immediately. It's just so much dumb fun, and even though these two people are capable of much more and I'll probably forget about it in a few months I will definitely scream it every time it comes on the radio for now. [6]

Will Adams: The singular badness of Taylor's past three lead singles can all be boiled down to their overblown-ness, whether in song, in video, or in their inevitable absorption into The Discourse. But "ME!" is a special kind of bad, one whose wrongness comes from all directions to create something truly confusing. There's the sonic rehashing of a single from two albums back (also those terrible horns), inert lyrics that offer nothing recognizably Swift, the aesthetic 180 that makes Reputation feel even more pointless and, worst of all, the patronizing kids show affect. It's really hard to figure out what she was trying to do here. Without Max Martin's catchphrases, Shellback's sheen, or even Jack Antonoff's weirdness, we're left with an overblown Train song. Here's hoping, come the album, she keeps her promise that we'll never find another like "ME!". [1]

Jibril Yassin: Taylor Swift loves dispatching red herrings for her forthcoming albums in the form of lead singles. While she couldn't fully commit to the heel turn, Reputation went out of its way to show her songwriting capacities hadn't diminished, but it says a lot that I already want the Right Said Fred-aided Taylor back. "ME!" flows and surges with the pop efficiency she's mastered, but the lyricism resembles a once-sharp camera lens out of focus. Draping herself in the sounds she last used on Reputation, now drenched in major-key sunshine, also feels like a serious misstep when a theatre-kid diva like Brendon Urie decides to show up and completely steal the show. A song like "ME!" calls for high theatrics and powerful vocals and here, Taylor doesn't play to her strengths. [3]

Katie Gill: Taylor Swift was one of the first people to sign on for the movie-musical Cats. I'm not saying this just because that fact brings me joy and happiness every time I remember it, but because you don't agree to be in a show that features tap-dancing beetles, a magic show, and a character called Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat unless you have a healthy appreciation for cheesiness. And this song further proves that Taylor Swift is fully embracing the concept of cheese. Why else would she include lyrics like "hey kids! Spelling is fun!". But three things prevent this song from reaching its full, beautiful, glorious Gouda potential. One: the fact that the chorus seems designed from the ground up to play in a Target commercial. Two: the fact that the lyrics never get past the braggadocio, "I'm so awesome" hubris that tainted a lot of her Reputation-era work. Three: Brendon Urie's existence on the track. [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Taylor's past fuck-yous to her former guys worked because she didn't leave room for them to speak in the song's narrative or actually in the music itself. Brendon Urie in "ME!" functions as wish fulfillment on top of wish fulfillment, singing the ideal response from the man to go with Taylor's perfect last words. His presence is extra fluff that the track can do without, but he's just one of many campy toppings that sugarcoats the stinging bitterness at the song's core to the point they wash away any taste when consumed. The cliche series of contrasts in the pre-chorus, the Sesame Street bridge, filler rhymes just to get to the next lyric -- all of this lyrical blandness doesn't help prop Taylor up as the underdog to cheer for in this breakup. [4]

Joshua Copperman: Every part of this song sounds like other songs that were successfully upbeat without being too cutesy. "ME!" isn't one of those. Like former contemporary Katy Perry with her "Swish Swish" video, Swift actively tries to be cringey but the attempts at cringe make her cringey. It's like Patrice Wilson's self-conscious follow-ups after "Friday" if he was given a Dave Meyers video budget. Taylor's own friend-by-her-right-ay Brendon Urie helps a little bit, because he's good at hamming it up, but while Taylor has pulled off hamminess in the past ("Blank Space" is one of her most-loved songs for a reason), this doesn't suit her. Even the lines about fighting in the rain feel like perfunctory good lyrics. The rest of the album will probably be fine, as even 1989 led with "Shake It Off." But even that song's bridge didn't have "spelling is fun." [3]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: For a second, right around "spelling is fun," I thought this would ascend, phoenix-like, into glorious schlock. But before and after that incredible interlude, "ME!" is not even the exciting kind of trash. It's content to just be mediocre, occasionally winking at the camera in ways that its authors clearly think is endearing but mostly come off as desperate. It's an emphatic shrug of a song, at once saying nothing and doing so loudly. [1]

Scott Mildenhall: Tonally aimless, it's very hard to deduce the spirit in which this is meant. In its most desperate moment -- yes, "spelling is fun!" -- it doesn't so much tip its hat to the audience as frisbee it into their face, but at the same time it's not so ironic as to be mean-spirited. As a whole, it's like a Wiggles mash-up of "Blank Space" and "We Go Together", and it's hard to know how anyone, whether their intentions were wholesome or cynical, would ever reach that by design. Perhaps this is simply just a spectacular misfire. The thematic mismatches, zero-dexterity crowbarring of aphorisms, desultory brass parps and gossamer-thin hook suggest seriously misplaced ambition. The one time "ME!" seems to be heading in its intended direction is its conclusion, at which it becomes an ever-ascending celebration. By then, though, it's already dug itself a deep hole to fly out of. [5]

Alfred Soto: The first time she's sounded manic and desperate, like someone pleading for her life; she could've titled it "You Must Love Me." [3]

Stephen Eisermann: Remember when everyone said "Look What You Made Me Do" was Taylor's worst lead single and it could never be worse? I do. And guess what? This is worse. [1]

Jonathan Bradley: "ME!" takes as its starting point the belated success of "Delicate," the late-cycle Reputation single that helped remind more than a few listeners and critics that they'd radically misinterpreted that album on its release. It makes sense that Taylor Swift would return to the source of that renewed goodwill, and this new single does sound designed as a rebirth of sorts: it is sunny and outward-looking after an insular and intimate record. It's also unashamedly and jubilantly corny. That should not surprise; Swift has never only been a dextrous chronicler of emotional contours, and corn has been a part of her songwriting toolbox going back at least to the time she wrote a gushing romance starring Romeo and Juliet that ended with a marriage and hefty key change. "ME!" is unabashed in its goofiness, pairing that dorkiness with the frivolity of "Shake It Off," her biggest hit to date. Panic! At the Disco's Brendon Urie fits in well with this theatricality, and Swift helps temper his archness; he's had "High Hopes," but never this much fun. And it's this sense of fun that makes "ME!" so enjoyable. This is a song that sees the strangenesses and imperfections of ourselves and the people around us, and greets them with optimism and -- Reputation hasn't entirely left us -- a bit of wanton selfishness. I've been to plenty of Taylor Swift shows and, as with "Shake It Off" or "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together" or "This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things" -- I can already tell how much of a blast of a setlist-capper "ME!" will be. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: "Taylor finger, Taylor finger, where are you?" [1]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]