#me and my dad bicker but one thing i can say for w fact is he was always faithful to my mom and he still misses her

[im2tired4usernames]

The fact that I know so many men who have left or cheated on their wives or partners because they're partner got cancer just makes me so sick

[francesminos-tt]

A CuriousCat prompt fill of Joffron being half brothers. Warning: might not be the half brother you are thinking of.

Imagine this.

You were named after your gay dad’s ex, who was killed by a drunk driver on his way to attend the wedding of your gay dad and your bisexual mom. You never had the chance to really know your gay dad because he died shortly after you were born. You had two older brothers, who loved you very much and you loved them back, but you learned that the three of you might not be the biological children of your gay dad on your fifth birthday. You was so shocked that you knocked off your birthday cake and cried yourself to sleep that night. Not that you wanted to be the biological child of your gay dad or anything, but at least they could choose another day to tell you (To be fair, it was brought up by Uncle Aegon).

Your mom remarried shortly afterwards, giving you a very cool stepdad and two beautiful stepsisters from your stepdad’s previous marriage. You liked Daemon, and somehow, he liked you too. He treated you like his own, even after your two little half-brothers were born. You looked after Aeg and Vis, pleased that you were no longer the baby in the family. Your life was getting better, despite the dramatics of the whole biological/moral/legal dad thing. You were even comfortable enough to joke about it in school, and no one dared to mess with you because they were all scared of Daemon.

All things considered, Joffrey Velaryon Targaryen’s life was going pretty well. He was a freshman of King’s Landing College on a football scholarship, majoring in Computer Science (yes, he was not all muscle and no brain gym bro, thank you very much). He had made some friends in class and in football training, and if he wanted to brag, he could say that he was selected as the hottest new face on campus this year (the voting pool was suspiciously all male).

Everything looked so promising to Joffrey until he opened the front door of his family house on an ordinary Sunday morning and was greeted by a well-groomed middle-aged man with braided silver hair and a big smile.

“Joffrey! My boy! How you have grown!” The man swept Joffrey into a bear hug, his cologne almost suffocating the boy.

“Give him a break,” Rhaenyra rushed to save her son and tried to hide Joffrey’s tall figure behind her, “you are scaring him.”

“Mom?” Joffrey looked to his mother in confusion, his baseball cap knocked askew by the man’s powerful hug, “Who’s this? Your ex? Does he want money?”

“Joff, dear, listen.” Rhaenyra looked embarrassed, which was more than enough for Joffrey to worry, “No matter what I am about to say, know that I love you, okay?”

“You are scaring me, mom.” Joffrey said honestly.

“Well, this man is my ex…” Rhaenyra paused, taking a sharp inhale before revealing the shocking news, “husband. He’s your legal dad, Laenor Velaryon.”

“What?”

“That’s right, son.” Laenor tried to swing an arm over Joffrey’s shoulder, but the boy was too tall for him to do it, “Sorry for going awol for so long.”

“But you are supposed to be dead!” Joffrey said in disbelief, “Mom told me that you were drowned when surfing!”

“Really, Nyra? Drowned when surfing?” Now was Laenor’s turn to look surprised, “Me? An Olympic level surfer?”

“What else am I supposed to tell him, Laenor? That you fucked off to Essos with your lover?”

“Hey, it was a mutual agreement. I leave, and you can marry Daemon.”

“Well, yes, but at least you could come up with your own excuse.” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. They were bickering like a pair of old ladies who had known each other for life.

“Mom, care to explain?” Joffrey turned to Rhaenyra with a raised eyebrow, “Please don’t tell me my whole life is a lie.”

It turned out far worse than that. Joffrey, who had believed he was the son of Laenor and Rhaenyra until he was five, and then was told that in fact he was not Laenor’s son. He had believed for his whole 19 years of life that though he had never met his biological father, he had a mother who loved him very much, but this belief proved wrong today when he was revealed another shocking news about his parents.

“So you are saying, I am actually the child of dad and Mr. Harwin? Like, I am the genetic offspring of two men and you are just my surrogate mother?” Joffrey summed up the 30-minute speech he had just been told with a tone so calm that it worried Rhaenyra.

“I carried you in my body for 10 months, Joff. You are every bit of my son as well as theirs.” Rhaenyra made the boy sit down and cradled his head, “Nothing has changed, okay? If you don’t want to see your dad, I can kick him out right away. I will make sure he never shows up in front of you again if you so wish.”

The thing was, Joffrey didn't know what to wish. He always envied Jace and Luke, because not only did they remember Laenor, they had also spent several summer holidays with Mr. Harwin, who was supposed to their biological father, while Joffrey knew no father except Daemon. He had made peace with that, but the shocking news just made his will dissolve like bubbles in the sun.

“Why is he here?” Joffrey asked Rhaenyra as if he were a grumpy little boy who was determined not to look at Laenor.

“Son, I am sorry that I have been away, but trust me, it was the best way we could come up with at the time. The marriage between me and your mother was never a happy one, and you will be far better off having Daemon as a father figure than me.” Laenor spoke; he actually sounded wise this time, “I am not here to destroy your life. Consider me an addition. You can have another adult to talk to or rant at whenever you want. Hey, guess what? I can be your cool uncle, or dad, or pops, or anything else you want to call me.”

“He has some business to discuss here.” Rhaenyra told him gently, “Don't worry. He won’t stay with us. He’s just been bugging me about when he can see you, so I let him visit for a bit.”

“I would get a huge inheritance, a large seaside house and a hot half-sibling if it were a romcom movie.” Joffrey murmured, still burying his face in his mother’s bosom, but he didn't sound too distressed. He had seen enough drama in this house to be distressed by this anyway.

“Well, about that…”

————————————————————————

It turned out, Joffrey’s life was not a romcom. It was a twisted soap drama with too many coincidences to justify shit writing. For example, he learned that the business Laenor had in King’s Landing was actually getting official custody of his other mysterious son who he had left at a sept.

“You left your son at a sept? What kind of fucked up father are you?” Joffrey was so furious that he could punch Laenor’s handsome face with his bare fist.

“I had no choice! Joffrey threatened to break up with me! Not you, dear, Joffrey Lonmouth.” Laenor lifted both his hands as a surrender, “And the child’s mother didn't want him. It was a teenager mistake. I made sure to leave enough money for him!”

“He’s still going to foster care no matter how much money you left in his cradle.” Joffrey said coldly, “You can at least be a man and look after him yourself. Perhaps you and mom wouldn't even have to marry if you already had a son.”

“I know, I am a dick.” Laenor sighed, pinching his own nose bridge, “I contacted the sept where I left him, and found out that he was adopted for a while but his adopting family hasn’t really been taking care of him, so I decided to step up and be a man this time. That’s why I am here.”

“A bit too late for that.” Joffrey commented.

“I know.” Laenor replied, “I don't need redemption, but I want to make amends. I want to make amends with you too, Joffrey. I am so sorry that I have been absent all your life.”

“It sounds like your other son needs you more than me. You should start with him.” Joffrey said.

Laenor looked disappointed, because Joffrey’s words seemed like a rejection. However, as the boy‘s mother, Rhaenyra could tell that Joffrey had already forgiven Laenor. He was just too proud and stubborn to admit it.

Laenor promised that he would keep Joffrey updated with the legal process, and he did. Rhaenyra helped him find a lawyer and even attended the hearing as a character witness. The process went smoothly, and Laenor finally got full custody with the son he barely knew. Joffrey was happy for him, really, but his happiness was ruined when Laenor brought this boy to the Rhaenyra’s house to officially introduce him to the family.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Joffrey murmured to himself. It was supposed to be a whisper, but the room was so quiet that everyone heard him loud and clearly, including Aeg and Vis.

“Language, Joff!” Rhaenyra warned him, while Daemon just let out a sharp laugh.

“It’s okay, mom. We are not kids anymore, right, Aeg?” Viserys, who just celebrated his 14th birthday, winked at his 16 year-old brother.

Aegon just shrugged, too busy fiddling with his phone.

Joffrey didn't hear his mother’s warning at all. He just kept staring at this newcomer, a tall and handsome young man roughly Jace’s age, with well-groomed silver curls and a pair of light violet eyes. He wore a knit vest over a shirt, paired with jeans, casual but not too casual, relaxed but not too slack, a perfect balance between youthful and proper. He was relatively toned, if the veins on his forearm was any indication, yet he looked bookish at the same time with a pair of glasses on his nose. Just Joffrey’s type.

“You look familiar,” Lucerys commented after a while, “hey, Joff, is this the guy you disappeared with at the party?”

Joffrey tried to cover Lucerys’s mouth, but it was too late. The cat had already been out of the box.

“Disappear with?” Jace asked.

“Party?” Rhaenyra mirrored her eldest son’s frown.

Daemon laughed harder.

Joffrey didn't know what got him at this moment, but his first reaction was to jump up from his chair and took a hold of the guy’s collar, dragging him upstairs to his room and shutting the door with a loud bang.

“What the fuck?!” Joffrey shoved the guy against the wall, his fist inches away from the guy’s handsome face.

“Hello to you too.” The guy had the audacity to smile, “I wasn’t expecting such a warm welcome, Joffrey.”

“You fucking knew!” Joffrey was about to punch the guy but his fist was stopped by a large and calloused palm, and the next thing he knew, their position was reserved. Now Joffrey was the one being pinned against the wall.

“You seem to only know how to say fuck today.” The guy said, tilting Joffrey’s chin up, “Are you this eager, baby? Is that why you dragged me to your room?”

“Cut the crap, Daeron.” Joffrey spat, “We’ve been fucking for what, months now? And you have never, not even once, mentioned you are my gay dad’s accidental child. How dare you!”

Daeron chuckled, one hand on Joffrey’s chin and the other roaming down the boy’s torso.

“What difference will it make?” Daeron said with a flat tone, “I never lied to you. I told you that I was brought up in a church, and adopted by a religious family before they decided to send me away to Old Town. I never felt I belonged there. I ran away as soon as I turned 18, and have been working at the bar we met ever since.”

“I thought it was your lame pickup line.” Joffrey admitted before he could stop himself.

“And who believed my lame pickup line?” Daeron couldn’t help but lean in to kiss away the small pout on Joffrey’s lips, “You are so spoiled, Joffrey. You never know what it feels like when life deals you a shitty hand.”

“Fuck you.” Joffrey tried to bite Daeron’s tongue, but the damn blonde was so quick that he failed to catch it on time, “You don't know me at all.”

“Oh, but I do know you, little brother.” Daeron licked his lips like predator in front of a prey, “I know you so well that I want to destroy you. How come you have a loving mother, a wealthy stepdad, siblings who care about you, a biological dad who wants to beg for your forgiveness, a full scholarship, a nice life and everything, while I have been neglected my whole life?”

Joffrey had no words to say to that. He realized that he was indeed lucky, when Daeron put it like that, but he didn't take anything from anyone to achieve this. He could not be punished for being lucky.

“Joffrey? Is everything all right?” Rhaenyra’s voice came through the door with a soft knock, “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? We can work this out.”

“Listen to her. We can work this out, can't we, little brother?” Daeron chuckled as his hand came down to Joffrey’s groin, “I’ve heard that siblings tend to be attracted to each other. I guess that’s why we are so compatible in bed, aren’t we?”

Joffrey hadn't realized until this moment that he had been fucking his half-brother for months now.

Fuck, he was so screwed.

[emphasisonthehomo]

Continuation of this.

I was lamenting in the tags on the original post about my failure to include Gracie and @teruel-a-witch rightly pointed out that Steve could be the bio dad. So anyways. Here’s how Danny gets a bun in his oven. This also gets unbelievably schmoopy.

I’d say this is a... light E? Heavy M? Sex but nothing too detailed.

•

The thing with having spent like 12 years as Best Friends with Benefits, is that this means everyone gets slapped in the face with Deeply Flirtatious Married Bickering right out the gate.

Danny comes back from the airport, and because he flew in last night and was going to fly out today, all he has is his comfy travel clothes and his funeral suit. As a result he’s in a threadbare pair of jeans and a t shirt with the album cover of Born in the U.S.A on the front, exclusively bc the idea of Danny walking around w/ Bruce Springsteen’s ass across his chest is hilarious to me.

But they’re like Obviously Close to the point that when Steve goes to bully Chin into joining his new task force, Chin sits there like “Okay so Steve McGarrett brought his… not husband, there’s no wedding ring, but boyfriend? Partner? To this discussion. Interesting.”

Steve and Chin go to speak to Doran, because Danny is very firmly in the ‘civilian’ box in Steve’s head. Which mostly means Danny stands by the rental car and goes WHAT THE FUCK when Steve and Chin go in without backup. This is probably the first time Danny’s seen Steve in SEAL mode, the closest is maybe when Steve’s taken him to the gun range. But this is different. This is a side of Steve that Danny hasn’t seen, in all the time he’s known him. But why would he? Steve goes off and does classified shit and doesn’t talk about it. Danny’s a PI from Jersey. It’s two very different lives.

Afterwards Danny walks up to Steve, grabs him by the elbow and, and in front of god and Chin and HPD says:

“Steven. Listen. I love you. You understand that, right?”

Steve, taken a back, half distracted because Doran is fucking dead and therefore useless says, “I – yes. I love you too, Danno.”

“Good,” Danny nods seriously, “Because you are a dumb shit idiot bastard son of a bitch motherfucker, what the hell were you thinking – ”

And then Chin witnesses one of their more legitimate arguments and is like oh damn, trouble in paradise.

After all of it, after Hess is dead in the water, Danny takes Steve back to a hotel room and fucks him careful. Because Steve’s kind of beat up, a little worse for wear. Because he’s a moron who crashed a car into a ship, but he’s also Danny’s moron. Danny sucks him sloppy and then gets on top of him and rides him bare, fucks himself on Steve’s dick until they’re both shaking with it, until Steve’s clinging to him and kissing him and holding him close.

Danny feels bad, leaving. He can tell Steve’s still in a really fragile place, but Danny does seriously need to get back to Jersey. He’s in the middle of a case there.

“So, Governor’s task force, huh?” Danny asks afterwards, when Steve’s basically using him as a human shaped weighted blanket, “You’ll be on O’ahu full time.”

“Yeah,” Steve kind of wants to ask Danny to stay, to join the task force with him. He won’t. Danny’s got a successful business in Jersey. Danny hates the beach.

“We’ll be able to see each other more often then,” and Danny’s so pleased with the idea, playing idly with Steve’s hair, “I’ll come out again in a couple months for a visit.”

Steve’s got so many fucking feelings, things he can’t even begin to say out loud, so he just starts pushing Danny onto his back. Ignores Danny’s protests of ‘you’re in a sling you moron’ and eats Danny out, very thoroughly cleans up the mess left deep inside him.

And then the next morning Steve drives Danny to the airport in the rental, pecks him on the mouth at passenger drop off, and watches him walk away.

Because that’s what they do.

Except Steve won’t be traveling anymore, not like he used to. He’s very cognizant of the fact that he’s going to be sleeping and waking up in the same bed every morning for the foreseeable future, and that if he weren’t in the middle of the pacific, Danny would probably be in that bed with him.

•

“Danny just went back to New Jersey?” Chin asks.

“That’s where he lives,” Steve says, surprised at how shocked Chin sounds, “I told you, he’s a PI.”

“Ah. And you’re going to live here. In Honolulu,” Chin says.

“Yes,” Steve says, unsure of what exactly is so confusing about the whole thing. Of course he’s going to live here. His house is here. The task force is here.

Chin just blinks at him.

“What?” Steve doesn’t understand why Chin’s making that face.

“I thought Danny was your boyfriend,” Chin says, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Oh no uh. No. Danny’s a friend.”

Chin blinks at him some more.

“… There’s a hickey on your neck,” Chin points out, because there is. It’s barely covered by the collar of Steve’s shirt.

“A friend with benefits,” Steve explains with a shrug.

“Alright then,” Chin’s still got his eyebrows up by his hairline.

•

And then things just sort of figure themselves out, with the task force. They become Five-0.

Kono’s favorite thing to do is ask “What’re you smiling at, boss?” when she catches Steve grinning at his phone, because like 99.999% of the time it’s because he’s texting Danny.

MEANWHILE

Danny’s in New Jersey, doing his thing. And he. Well, he feels some kind of way, that Steve’s in the reserves now. He’d always kind of assumed that when Steve either retired or went to the reserves, that he’d come to Jersey. But then Steve didn’t.

Danny gets it. Understands why Steve did what he did, why he’s in Honolulu now. But Danny also can’t help but be a little grumpy, because he wants Steve in his house instead.

But it’s what they do. This thing. It’s been long distance right from the beginning. Danny’s used to it.

Steve sends Danny badly framed pictures of himself shirtless on the beach at some ungodly hour of the morning, and Danny misses him with an ache he can’t shake. It is nice though, that they can text and call more frequently than when Steve was active duty.

AND THEN whelp.

Danny starts to get weirdly nauseous. Like he’s got a stomach bug. Except it doesn’t go away, and it’s usually in the morning, and suddenly the smell of coffee makes him sick and oh jesus fucking christ.

He’s an idiot.

Danny knows, that going on T isn’t a form of birth control. He knows this. But him and Steve fuck without a condom all the time, this hasn’t happened before, there’s no way.

Except he also knows ‘hasn’t happened before’ doesn’t mean something won’t happen and shit fuck goddammit.

So, he goes to see an ob/gyn and confirms his suspicions and son of a bitch.

He’s gestating a mini McGarrett.

•

Danno: I land Friday at 9:35

Danno: SORRY 21:35 🙄

And Steve’s kind of stupid excited, because yes Danny had said he’d visit again in a few months, but it’s one thing to know that Danny’s going to visit at some vague point in the future, and it’s another to get the flight itinerary.

He’s in a good enough mood about it that Kono pegs him immediately and is like “Is your Not Boyfriend going to come visit?”

And Steve doesn’t even argue about how he doesn’t like her referring to Danny as his Not Boyfriend, he just says “Yup 😊” and then idk gets into a high speed car chase and shoots his gun and does his usual bullshit.

Danny meanwhile is shitting a brick and pacing a hole in the floor and having a hissed conversation with Matty about the whole situation while packing. Danny respects Steve too much to do this over the phone, he needs to tell him to his face. This is going to change things; he just doesn’t know how. He knows how he wants things to change, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get that.

“You gonna make an honest man out of him?” Matty’s been unimpressed with Danny and Steve’s fuck buddies thing, has been for years. He genuinely doesn’t understand why Danny won’t just put a ring on it, “He’s in the reserves now.”

“IT’S COMPLICATED” Danny’s kind of an emotional wreck. He tapered off of T because like, you know. Baby. So, he’s dealing with that plus all of the regular ass pregnancy hormones. He’s dreading it, the changes that’ll happen to his body. At the same time, he’s so excited to hold Baby in his arms that he’s freaking himself out a little. A Dad. He’s gonna be a Dad. He’s always wanted kids, and always assumed it probably wasn’t in the cards for him.

“It’s not that complicated. He’s gotta stay in Hawai'i so just move there or something.”

“I have spent years building this business –”

“Rebuild it on O’ahu and go get your baby daddy locked down, goddamn. Stop being stupid about it.”

Danny throws a sock at him.

•

Steve can tell that Danny’s stressed about something and trying to hide it. Steve tries to bring it up on the drive back to the house, but Danny is like “No. Not now. We’ll talk about it in a little bit” and he’s jittery in the passenger seat, but Steve knows when to push an issue and this is Not one of those times.

Danny practically jumps him once they get through the door, and Danny’s suitcase gets forgotten in the front hallway while the two of them get mostly naked. Shirts get tossed and a pants get shoved down, and it ends with Danny bent over the back of the couch while Steve fucks him deep and hard and right there Steve goddammit –

They flop together afterwards. They’re not even sitting on the couch, just kind of laying awkwardly on the floor behind it. Danny’s got come dripping out of him, christ he’s making a mess and he fights the urge to laugh hysterically, because this is how he got into this situation in the first place.

Steve can feel him tense up from where they’re cuddling together and asks:

“Are we talking about it now?”

He doesn’t think it’s anything bad, Danny doesn’t look scared or upset, just worried about something.

“Later, I need a shower,” Danny says.

Steve thinks if he pushed the issue now, Danny probably wouldn’t get too pissed, but he’d also much rather get Danny properly naked and wet, so instead Steve just drags him upstairs.

They don’t fuck again in the shower, but they do go in together. Danny gropes Steve shamelessly, and Steve keeps reaching up and changing the angle of the shower head so Danny gets sprayed in the face.

“Are we talking about it now?” Steve asks, when they’re damp and in bed. They’re curled up next to each other, legs tangled together.

“Shit,” Danny says, “Yeah.”

It’s late. Dark outside.

Danny’s suitcase is still down stairs. He needs to go grab it so he can brush his teeth and get his pajamas. Instead, he puts his hands on either side of Steve face and rips off the band aid.

“I’m pregnant.”

Steve’s eyes get huge.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant. It’s yours,” Danny adds, kind of uselessly. It’s not like it’d be anyone else’s. Danny lets go of his face.

Steve doesn’t look upset, but Danny didn’t think he would. He just looks surprised.

“Mine?” Steve says, after a beat.

“Yeah.”

“How?” Steve asks, looking gob smacked.

“Well Steve, when two people love each other very much –” Danny starts, and then stops because that feels like Too Much right now, “You came inside my you goon, that’s how it happens.”

“I come inside you all the time,” Steve says, blunt and vulgar.

“Yeah well. Last time it took,” Danny props himself up on his arm looks down a Steve, “What’s the face mean?”

“I – I don’t know,” Steve says, still processing.

Danny shifts and sits up.

“How’re we doing this?” Danny asks, eventually. He’s given Steve enough time to think.

“How do you want to do this?” Steve asks, because that’s a good enough place to start.

“I’m keeping it,” Danny says, “I’d like you to be involved, if you want.”

“Of course, I want!” Steve sounds a little indignant. He sits up too, and stares at Danny some more, “… I can’t go to Newark.”

“I know.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it.

For once Steve’s tied down somewhere. After years of being on the move, he’s finally got commitments in once place.

Danny’s mouth is twisted up, and he doesn’t look happy. Steve leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, grabs his hand and squeezes.

“You could stay here,” Steve says, “That’s another option. I know you’ve got your PI business but I mean. Licenses transfer. You could work at Five-0.”

He doesn’t want to – this shouldn’t be something Danny feels pressured to do. He knows what Danny has in Jersey is important but. But it is an option.  

“That’s gotta be nepotism,” Danny says weakly, “Getting me a job at your task force.”

“Well, it is my task force, I can do whatever I want,” Steve says.  

“…Okay. Yeah,” Danny shakes his head slowly, clearly thinking through logistics, “I can get my license switched.”

“We can figure something out,” Steve says, breath catching in his chest because Danny. Danny’s going to move here.

Danny’s quiet for a long moment.

Then he gets a Look in his eye.

“If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?” Because Danny needs to know. If they’re changing what they do, he needs to know how it’s going to change.

“What?” Steve’s back to staring.

That’s fair. Danny’s dropped quite a few bombs on him in the last few minutes.

“Would you say yes?” Danny repeats, pink cheeked and determined.

“… are you asking?”

“Not if you’re gonna break my heart about it,” Danny says, and he doesn’t mean for his voice to crack, but it does.

Steve kisses him. Cradles Danny’s face in his hand and kisses him careful and with purpose and pulls away.

“Will you marry me, Daniel Williams?”

“I fuck – I was going to ask you first!” Danny says, incensed.

“Too slow,” Steve kisses him again, “Will you?”

“Yes, you fucking bastard – ” Danny’s grinning, a laugh bubbling out of his chest.

He shoves Steve down onto the mattress. Steve laughs too, loud and infectious, and just tugs Danny down for another kiss.

AND THEN idk idk idk they’re gross and In Love and the next day Danny goes to the Palace and Kono’s like “CHIN, Steve’s Not Boyfriend is here” and Steve just gets Very Smug and says:

“You’re right, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my fiancé.”

[mlobsters]

supernatural s7e14 plucky pennywhistle's magic menagerie (w. andrew dabb, daniel loflin)

(from the recap) i love baby sam's "and apparently clowns kill!" response to dean's "planes crash" phobia justification

oh is this a christmas episode? aired in february. ok

DEAN I hope he finds something quick. This whole protocol du jour thing's really creeping my cheese.

that's some kind of expression

SAM So, we got dick on Dick? DEAN That's a vivid way of putting it.

--

SAM ...I might have found something over in Kansas. DEAN All right, well, let's do it. But, uh, a few simple rules, okay? No babies. SAM smiles. DEAN In fact, no baby mamas. No bars. No booze – no hot chicks of any kind. SAM Wait, wait, wait. Did you just say – DEAN Hey. You spawn a monster baby, see how quick you want to dive back in the pool.

no booze? yeah right, my dude. gotta sell that fake beer brand

the sideburns heard me and staged a comeback

DEAN Plucky's. Why does that sound familiar? NANNY Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie? Pizza chain for kids. Actually, more for lazy parents.

was that a, "ah yes now i remember dad dumping us there" moment or what. is this the clown phobia origin story?

yo, this reminds me of my favorite book when i was like, middle schoolish age, sphere by michael crichton. i wrote him a letter for a project asking about the ending of the book. sadly, did not get a response. anyway. manifested thoughts/fears after you went inside it. a giant squid was involved. childhood fear from 20,000 leagues under the sea. does entering the chuck e cheese knockoff do it

ok.

oh, so it wasn't dad dumping them there, it was dean!

SAM (on phone) Uh, you would dump me and go trolling for chicks. DEAN (on phone) It's not like I left you in jail. I mean, those places are supposed to be fun. SAM (on phone) Fun? Uh, they're lame. And they smell like puke. And the ice cream is all grainy.

still ridiculous but cute. i will take lighthearted bickering and teasing any way i can get it. and padalecki's over the top acting seriously freaked out and nervous while also pretty nonsensical, i will take

alSO. retroactively irritated about calling a place like this for "lazy parents". i have 3 kids (they're 9, 7 and 5 years old) and hoo boy. non-parents being judgey about parenting lol

here's a niche one, another because i've seen it so many times i remember person. very small part on the killing

the killing s2e5 jennifer spence as eve

insufferable perky child self, wouldn't think he was all "i don't know why i'm doing anything anymore" last episode

DEAN Cops have a theory? SAM Yeah, they think the ball washer did it. DEAN The what? SAM The... ball washer. DEAN [smiling] The what? SAM The ball – SAM holds up his hands in frustration.

--

DEAN "Shark Week," man. How do you not watch that? SAM walks away. DEAN Whole week of sharks.

shark week is another thing i've seen enough in fic and assumed it was fanon :) the canon is so plentiful, don't even need fanon

cringing my way through this over the top goofy plucky's employee interrogation sequence.

dean/jackles laughing is so sincere like he couldn't get out the line, adorable. terribly endearing this whole interaction. reminds me when dean was trying to convince himself he was having more fun being with cas and no sam

from s5e3 free to be you and me: CASTIEL What's so funny? DEAN Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

lot of good brother moments this episode and mild to moderate cringing. i'll take it

[ambreiiigns]

Ok then now tell me about these sk8 big and little boyfriends? I'm interested by the distinction of big and little, you know? :P

ok after Thee category 5 doubleblack moment and watching tristamp w my brother i'll answer this sk8 ask. then i'll go look at deathnote images saved to my phone to complete the collection of anime i care about

so you will never believe me but sk8. is about. a bunch. of skater boys. we have langa who moves to japan from canada after his dad dies bc his mom's japanese. him and his dad used to do snowboarding together but langa got lowkey depressed after his death and doesn't feel much passion for snowboarding anymore. plus he lives in beachy town now so it'd be impossible anyway

he meets reki there tho. and Oh reki is just like. the sun. they're in class together but didn't really talk (langa doesn't talk much) but they bump into each other while reki's out skating and he gets langa to try it and it just. goes downhill from there

reki takes him to S !!! which is this like super secret skaterz place that opens at night on some mountain where they have races and place bets and stuff. long story short langa finds that Spark he's missed ever since his dad died in reki and skateboarding - as in, yeah sure skating's fun but it's reki that makes his heart beat fast and not the adrenaline or whatever. it's not Skating itself that makes him happy but it's skating With Reki. they're so fucking SWEET. they have a bit of a fight halfway thru the series bc reki has some inferiority complex and langa almost loses the Spark again. it's really sweet. at some point he vaguely talks to his mom abt this fight and she assumes it's about a girl he likes so she asks him. "you LIKE this person don't you" and langa BLUSHES HE'S SO CUTE and says yeah :// so she hypes him up to go talk things out and says. good lird. "show her she's a lucky girl!!" and langa. i am quoting word for word. answers. "what girl." gay people real

and those ^ are the little boyfriends. now the BIG boyfriends ugh !! unsufferable. you got kojiro aka joe and kaoru aka cherry and we meet them at s. in fact they FOUNDED s when they were teens along w adam who's the bad guy in this show and i want him dead. joe is. built like a brickhouse and mildly italian ?? he runs a restaurant during the day and the Gang meets up there a lot he's the sweetest in the world and worries and helps the kids anytime he can i adore him. cherry's gnc af (you're insane) he's pretty as fuck and had a Punk Phase as a kid where he had a couple of piercings and emo bangs and NO ONE has ever looked better EVER but he's Mean but still Cares. when they met adam back in the day him & cherry had a lil somethin somethin going on but he ended up dumping them Both for being boring bc he's insane. i don't wanna talk abt him. so that leaves cherry & joe alone again - which is cool. they've been together since preschool they're the type to bicker and talk shit 24/7 while still always being glued to each other. they're so Horny but they won't fuck. everyone at s wonts them carnally. the kids (by this i mean reki & langa but mostly miya who's like a little shit pro skater they picked up along the way) (shoutout to the icp clown rockstar legend shadow who's the 6th and final member of The Gang) call them mom and dad Frequently and they call the gang "The Kids" an incriminating amount of times (they accidentally adopted two 16yos one 14yo and one 24yo. at age 26)

realizing i don't Know how to explain joe & cherry you kinda just have to witness them. there's this bit where cherry's explaining to The Kids how adam does one of his moves so he skates right up to joe and says "Hello..." in a. weird fucking tone and joe hisses back "You're Too Close!!!" threatheningly like he's gonna fuckin Jump him. there's this other bit during THEE beach episode where joe's flirting w some ladies (he's a manwhore) and miya grabs him pretends that he's his dad and tells him that Mommy's mad !! pointing at cherry who's like napping sexily. and joe actually looks at him and like fuckin whimpers and blushes like a virgin and all he can say for himself is THAT IS NOT YOUR MOM !!!! hello. what was that. also there's the bit where adam fuckin slams his board across cherry's face (?!?!?!?) and joe picks him up like a princess (which he calls him sometimes. princess and pinky and the likes) and gets him to the hospital and THEN cherry sneaks out of the hospital to go to joe's restaurant and falls asleep there and joe looks at him sooo tenderly and says something like "at least we aren't alone right kaoru?" and it's Sweet bc cherry has troubles sleeping but he feels safe enough to sleep around joe..... don't u wanna scream

here look at them. the kids the parents the squad

[bgw57]

The Other Williamses

One of my favorite things.

On Mothers' Day 1944 Dean Ellis Williams, who was really James Grant Williams, was married to Ruth Elinor Williams by her father, the Reverend William Clark Williams. How often does this happen? And how often are the bride and bride, groom and groom or bride and groom's identical last names a factor in how they meet?

You can blame high school chemistry class, and alphabetical seating in my parents' case. Dean Williams and Ruth Williams were lab partners because their high school teacher needed a little help remembering names. I believe this all started sometime in 1939. The dark Newtonian is Ruth's, her sophomore year. Dean is a class ahead, as you can see by what he wrote in his red 1940 yearbook.

Do you think they were advised to put their names in this spot? These were the days of penmanship, that's for sure.

Poor Dad, a year or so away from discovering he's Jim - but that name weirdness is another post.

Dad's class ring.

Looking an Ruth's 1939 Newtonian I notice that every photo with Dean in it is crudely marked. Something tells me Dad did it himself, being flirtatious and cheeky at the same time, grabbing it when Mom was not looking.

OR, in a rapture of adolescent lust and mark-up, Ruth's pen practically moved itself.

In Dad's 1940 yearbook, his senior year, the mad underliner is at work again, although in this book more arrows point to a certain junior with the same last name. Did Ruth write in Dean's book, tit for tat?

Miss Brom was a friend of Dean's youth who was part of a gang of girls who chased him across a street, like after he'd committed shenanigans against them, into the path of an oncoming car. He broke a leg. But she's better known to me as Aunt Esther my Uncle Paul's wife and sister-in-law to Ruth. When Aunt Esther Brom Williams passed my cousins generously gave me her stand mixer.

These graduation announcements were given to Mom by friends. High school and college related stuff she kept in this special box for patriots to save letters in.

Ruth Elinor Williams Williams, when explaining this surname snarl often added, "I didn't even have to change my name on my driver's license." But she didn't learn to drive until after they were married. Dean tried to teach her but this ended in a bickering newlywed disaster. She went to a driving school instead.

As a kid it was confusing, didn't all your relatives have the same last name? Ruth had mostly brothers (one being the aforementioned husband to Aunt Esther) and on Dean's side the sister we visited most, as luck with have it, married uncle D. Warden. "The Wardens this, the Wardens that," says Ruth in the car as we make the twice (at least) monthly drive to see Grandma (Dad's mom) in Newton, ninety minutes west of Cedar Rapids. My six year old ears heard "wardens," small w,. and I just assumed the Brunners and the Davises (Dad's sisters' families) were occupations I hadn't heard of yet. Adding to this clusterfuck of nomeclature was the fact that there remained in my day my dad's mom, my mom's dad, and his second wife, after being widowed much too early, who we just called Mayme. No need to differentiate between Granpa Williams and Grandpa Williams for me.

And it must have been habit, Dean being the last of her five children to marry, that Besse didn't give a second thought to address herself, in her letters to Ruth, as Mother W. or Mother Williams.

Ruth Williams and Dean Williams met in high school and continued to see each other as Ruth went to teachers college and Dean went to war. And on May 14, 1944 they got married. And were together for the rest of their lives. And saved a lot of stuff.

Next time at All My Stuff, the WCW papers...

[solar-halos]

okay now that i’ve re-watched we’re the millers i’m going to talk about it in terms of odesta. here’s what i got

• overall, i feel like this is a perfect au. in the totally killer and teen beach movie au, i strayed very far from the source material. in the planet of the apes crossover, i pretty much plan on keeping everything really close to canon. this is like a happy medium

• usually in aus i feel like annie fits more as the guy and finnick more as the girl. while i feel like annie would so totally be a drug dealer, i also want her to have an ocean themed stripper name. coral maybe

• speaking of coral, i feel like it would be so cute if coral and mizzen made an appearance as their fake kids. if i did do that, i would have to change annie’s stripper name (shell? ariel? del mar??). at first, i was gonna make the kids gale and katniss bc they already get mistaken for cousins anyway (plus, katniss literally says he could be her brother). the mizzen and coral idea is rlly starting to grow on me but i have a stronger vision for gale and katniss so im gonna talk about that

• katniss isn’t houseless in this one, but she does live w prim and she’s very short on rent and her mom isn’t helping so that’s her motivation for going. gale’s motivation is pretty similar except he has a million siblings (jk i think he only has like three) so he’s the one that kinda convinces katniss to go

• we’re already starting to diverge from canon here, but worry not. katniss and gale don’t *actually* know each other. they may work at the same restaurant and swap tips depending on who needs it more, but their relationship mirrors the one they have in the book: strictly business

• one thing that i WILL be omitting is the scene where rose and the fake daughter take turns making out with the fake son. call me a prude asexual freak, but that scene was not my favorite 😔😔 in fact i hated it. instead, i wanna take the concept of gale meeting someone (aka delly… forever a gelly truther <3) on the road and take that in a completely opposite direction. instead of him freaking out over never kissing a girl before, i think it would be interesting to see him try to tone down being so flirty bc he doesn’t wanna scare her off. but he doesn’t rlly do a good job so delly KNOWS he likes her but just isn’t doing anything about it, but worry not. she has a few tricks up her sleeve. she and her parents are still jesus freaks

• i’m also going to change up the love interest we got with the fake daughter and actually make it work out for katniss. peeta is the guy she meets at the hospital and since she rlly fucking hates hospitals (we get a katniss everdeen lore drop right around here) he helps her put her mind at ease. the carnival scene still happens and they still end up chatting BUT peeta actually comforts her and doesn’t make her feel bad that she’s in a crying mood and he fully becomes an accomplice in this drug dealing scheme they have going on

• okay now back to my dilemma with finnick and annie. rose is obviously so done with being a stripper but to me the fake dad’s situation (can’t remember his name) seems to align better with finnick’s situation in canon cos his life is literally at stake if he doesn’t do what the Big Boss tells him to do. maybe i can weave in a backstory about how finnick and annie USED to be in the same boat (stripping) so when finnick first got trafficked (bc lowkey was that not the situation the fake dad was in?? the Big Boss mentioned they knew each other since college but mf was fully intending on killing him if he didn’t do everything he said) to be a drug dealer he convinced himself that would be better bc he’d have more agency/bodily autonomy. instead of their love-hate relationship stemming from him tearing her grandfathers fucking painting (what a stupid meet-cute… if a man did that to me and defended himself by saying it was an ugly painting i wouldn’t even bicker w him id straight up pretend he didn’t exist).

wait sorry let me finish my thought. instead of their love-hate relationship stemming from the Painting Fiasco, it would stem from annie being worried for him and finnick being like OKAY but at least i’m not stripping anymore and then that little argument that takes place in the kitchen in the movie is replaced by them having a heart to heart bc annie is convinced that he thinks she’s beneath him and he clarifies that this is in fact not the case. makes for a much better buildup for them to start making out nasty style instead of what happened in the movie (i think fake dad genuinely did make fun of rose for being a stripper?? unless the “you have terrible taste in guys” line was referring to them and their fake family situation, but based on her reaction, it didn’t rlly seem that way. ugh this movie is so 2013)

• i may be a prude asexual freak but i am keeping in the couple swinging!

• okay back to my smaller dilemma: mizzen and coral. i feel like that would work so good bc even though i think finnick odair is lowkey giving john stamos, which would make annie (who i hc gives uhhh riri bichri w curly hair) (also someone else but i am BLANKING on her name) and their fake kids situation ironic bc YES they all visually look very similar and yes each of them aren’t even the same ethnicity. idk i notice i do fall a lot on that type of humor in my aus but lucky for me so does this movie in general

anyway i also think that if i wanted to go with the Irish Finnick Odair route having mizzen there to look more like annie and coral (who is also ginger… according to the movies anyway) look more like finnick could be so cute. but then again my brothers look like my dad and me and my sisters look like my mom and we have been stopped before bc they thought my dad and brothers were fucking abducting us so maybe this is another sign that i should just keep in gale and katniss. but cmon the d4 fake family could be so cute. like, coral (who i would keep houseless) finding her family with annie and finnick and mizzen. mizzen finally getting to be a normal 14 year old boy (who is still a chaos gremlin). but also idk again he’s FOURTEEN. the fake dad wouldn’t risk that bc he doesn’t want a child abduction charge on his hands and finnick wouldn’t risk that bc im gonna make him nicer in this universe

• speaking of making finnick nicer, maybe it’s my preference for pathetic men, but i’m gonna make him so fucking whipped for annie. i don’t really like it when the whole “enemies to lovers” trope is literally just bc the guy is an asshole and the girl just like conveniently ignores that as time goes on. like he’s prob still gonna leave to make the deadline, but i’m not tryna have him constantly abandon his fake kids. who does he think he is? an actual dad??

• wait let me clarify that i don’t think rose has no backbone. i think she very much does, i just think that the almost-kissing scene was weird bc he highkey didn’t even deserve to get kissed

• depending on who i keep (katniss and gale vs coral and mizzen) the ending will be drastically different. but still equally as cute imo

• okay okay i think that’s it

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[uwuwriting]

Breaking in w/ Hawks, Shoto and Dabi

Request: I read another post about ppl breaking in your shared house with the boys not knowing that you are inside and hurting you and I was like well this would be interesting with their kids in the mix. So i'm here to provide you with the following request ppl breaking in and immobilizing you while you're still awake and they try to go into your kids’ room with Shoto, Hawks and maybe Dabi or Aizawa- anonymous 

Oh this is a nice little concept. It's very interesting. I’m happy to deliver. I have been devastated by chapter 290, if anyone hurts Shoto imma start a riot and if Dabi doesn’t kill Endeavor i will. I’m thinking of making a double post today so this one and a kny post but we’ll see. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist

rules

warning: cursing, mentions of blood, crying but fluff in the end. 

Hawks/Keigo Takami

-You were waiting for Keigo to come home after a long day. 

-The twins were a nightmare to put to bed today and you were exhausted. 

-Both of them wanted Keigo to tuck them in for some weird reason and they just wouldn’t accept your cuddles or attempts. 

-So after a tiresome two hours of trying and failing to calm them down you called your husband on facetime and they went to bed. 

- “I’ll be home soon, do you want me to bring you anything?”

- “No, no just you.” 

-So after taking a shower and checking on the kids you relaxed on the couch, turning on the TV while scrolling though tik tok. 

-Not even half an hour later you heard jiggling coming through the door. 

-Assuming it was Keigo you got up and went to greet him but who you met at the entrance of your house was a complete stranger. 

-You and the two bulgars stared at each other for a solid minute before you scrambled to get to the kids’ room and lock yourself in there. 

-But one of them tackled you to the floor before you could reach the pastel colored door and pinned you down, binding your hands with a cloth. 

- “I thought you said he wasn’t here man? What is this?”

-They had tied your legs to a chair, putting a makeshift gag in your mouth so you wouldn’t scream as they bickered back and forth. 

-Your eyes kept darting from the front door to your kids’ room.

-He said he was almost home, he should be here at any moment. 

- “Just stick to the plan, she doesn’t change anything.”

- “Doesn’t change anything? You tackled the n. 2 heros’ partner and you think that nothing is gonna happen?”

-You couldn’t care less about their words as you saw the light of the baby monitor light up.

-Eyes widening, you tried to get out of your  restraints to turn it off but to no avail, the soft babbles of your son could be heard coming from the device sending the whole room into an uncomfortable silence. 

-Before you know it, the one that tackled you pushed his partner towards you. 

- “Keep her in check while I go pay a visit to the other room.” 

-Managing to get the gag out of your mouth, your eyes frantic, you tried to reason with him. 

- “I’ll give you whatever you want just stay away from that door, please.” 

- “The number 2 hero has plenty of money. I bet he would be willing to give a handsome amount for that brat in there. What do you say babycakes? 

- “Dude you’re taking it too far-” 

- “Stay away from them!” 

-You realized your mistake a little too late, the new information making the man's eyes light up.

-Two cries came from the twins’ room due to the commotion and your panic rose. 

-But then you saw it. 

-The single feather hovering over the mans’ head, as red and vibrant as ever. 

-You let out a sigh of relief as a wave of red feathers flooded your living room, cutting you free from your restraints. 

-Without missing a beat you sprinted to the door, stepping inside and locking it. 

-Both of them were awake and teary eyed but at the sight of you they calmed down a bit. 

-Taking them out of their cribs, you sat in the far corner with both of them in your lap waiting for the moment Keigo would knock on your door. 

-One would assume that being part of the hero industry, although you weren’t a full blown hero yourself, mere bulgars wouldn’t really faze you. 

-In reality you hadn’t been afraid for your own life, you couldn’t care less about yourself at that moment, but when you realized that they knew about the twins everything slowly fell apart.  

-After what seemed like an eternity a soft knock came from the locked door. 

- “Y/N, dove, open up.”

-Raising to your feet, you almost ripped the door handle out of position in your rush. 

-Once Keigo came into view you didn’t miss a beat before pressing yourself close to his chest, the twins just happy to see their dad. 

- “There are my favorite Takamis!” he said kissing their heads as his wings enclosed all of you. 

- “Dove they are gone, don’t worry. I’m here. We’re alright.” 

-The news report the next morning said that two men were found on the top of the police department butt naked. 

Todoroki Shoto

-Poor man had merely gone to get take out. 

-He hadn’t been gone for that long. 

-But apparently the villains had been waiting for him to leave the house so they could go in. 

-You were still inside with your daughters; the twins chasing each other in their matching onesies while you sat on the living room couch with your youngest.

-You heard the front door open suddenly and at first you assumed that Shoto had forgotten his wallet again.

-But the footsteps were too heavy and his voice didn’t echo through the entrance hall. 

-He always said something when he came in and his footsteps have become lighter ever since the girls were born. 

-Sensing that something was off you placed your toddler in her crib and motioned towards the twins. 

- “Stay with your sister and no matter what you hear you do NOT come into the hallway. Understood?”

- “But what-”

- “Rei do I make myself clear?” 

-Nodding their heads they took their seats in front of the crib, Ren squeezing her hand through the bars to gently grab her sister's chubby hand. 

-Taking a deep breath you entered the hallway and lo and behold, two strangers were staring back at you. 

- “Can I help you gentlemen?” 

-After a few seconds the one closest to the door flung himself at you while the other one started digging through his pockets. 

-Swiftly dodging the attack, you grabbed his wrist and swang him with incredible force to the wall, letting go of him as you turned your attention to the other one. 

-And then you felt a sharp pain course up your right leg as a heaviness settled on your chest. 

-The room began to spin while the air was knocked out of your lungs.

-You kneeled down, hand over your heart as you tried to use your quirk. 

-Nothing happened though; it was like you didn’t have one at all. 

- “Quirk cancelling bullets, aren’t they neat?” 

-The man stared down at you as ever so slowly your senses came back at you. 

- “I can still beat your ass even without a quirk.”

- “I don’t think you’ll do that.”

-Angry voices could be heard from the other room before the man you had slammed into the wall appeared again, blood dripping from his nose and onto the snow white hair of your daughter.

-Ren looked at you, tears forming in her eyes as a red flash of hair jumped onto the man. 

-Rei was having none of it.

-Taking that opportunity you kicked the one in front of you in the groin before separating the girls from the other, sprinting into the living room, closing the sliding doors behind you. 

-Laying the girls on the couch you grabbed one of the fireplace tools and got into a fighting position. 

-Soon enough the door opened revealing none other than Shoto himself.

- “Are you all alright? Did they hurt you?”

-He looked absolutely disheveled, his hair going in different directions as his gaze frantically scanned all four of you, his eyes lingering at your slightly raised leg. 

-The twins hopped off the couch and tackled his legs. 

-Shoto crouched down hugging them both tightly as they started to sniffle into their dad’s chest. 

- “T-they hurt mama and t-tried to hurt Ren.”

-He shot you a look but you waved him off, deciding to instead check on the baby before joining them on the living room floor. 

- “I won’t let them touch you ever again, even if it's the last thing I do.”

Dabi/Touya Todoroki *I ain't never letting this go*

-In reality the dudes didn’t know you were preggos. 

-You were too early on so you couldn’t tell you were preggo but still. 

-They knew that you had something going with Dabi and that’s why they wanted to fuck with you. 

-They thought that they would gain something from trying * key word trying * to take you.

-They were wrong though because a) they got their asses kicked by you and b) they got fried once Dabi found them. 

-You were chilling at Dabis’ while he was out to get you some mustard and a chocolate bar because cravings, when you heard the door open. 

-Immediately you knew it wasn’t Dabi. 

-You would’ve heard him grumbling under his breath about forgetting to take money with him * bc you have been pushing him to pay for stuff every once in a  while* or he would be shouting at you that your disgusting meal had arrived. 

-Neither of these things happened so something was up. 

-Not bothering to get up because you didn’t give two fucks, you waited for whoever stepped inside the apartment to show themselves. 

-You are a villain hun you ain’t about to stress over some crusty ass dude trespassing into your house because you could obliterate his ass from the face of the earth in negative five seconds. 

-Whispers and a frantic “But what if he comes back?” was all you heard before the ground breaking phrase left their mouth. 

- “Who cares? She’s a woman, how strong can she be anyways?”

-You were livid. 

-It might have been a mix of your hormones along with the fact that that was hella sexist but you were ready to beat some crusty ass. 

-Laying down on the couch and pretending to be asleep you waited for them. 

-And soon enough you felt the three figures standing over you. 

- “See easy as hell.” 

- “And hot as hell, please don’t forget that.” 

-All three of them stared down at you like that pikachu meme for a solid minute before scrambling to activate their quirks. 

- “We don’t wanna hurt a pretty girl like you so please don’t cause a fuss.” 

- “Oh baby you think you can hurt me? Please have you seen who I’m dating?” 

-Slowly standing up you flicked your wrist and one of them dropped to the floor. 

-You made your way to the kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water right when one of them ran into you, pinning you to the counter. 

- “Watch it there bud I’m carrying precious carg-”

- “Shut up you fucking slut! You’ll come with us whether you like it or not.” 

- “The only person who can boss me around is not currently in this room so I suggest you let go.” 

- “Yeah you should probably let her go.” 

-At the sound of his deep voice you knew that they were dead men. 

-The one basically on top of you stared at Dabi in horror as you pushed him off of you. 

-Making your way to your boyfriend you gave him a small peck while he rested a hand over you stomach as a silent ‘are you okay?’.

-Shrugging you took the bag from his hands and went into your bedroom, not caring to see what he was about to do to them. 

-You were hungry anyways. 

- “Now which one of you wants to be roasted first?”

TAG TEAM AY:

@the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​  @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @bemorefiction​ @ezoyscorner​

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Guys, I wanna gush about Yondu and Peter because fuck it. Do you know how long it’s been since Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.2? Four years. Do you know what that movie managed to do? It managed to w r e c k me, and I’m still not over it four years after the fact. I’m not into the MCU anymore, but some of the stories an characters have stayed with me and I still revisit them often because of how beautiful they were. 

Tony Stark will always have a big place in my heart. Thor will always give me warm fuzzy feels. But Peter and Yondu? FUCK ME. 

They’re not my favorite characters - or at least, they’re not meant to be. I barely remember the first GotG and I’ve watched it like three times, but it just doesn’t stick. I wasn’t that into the Guardians subplot in Infinity War. But GotG Vol.2..... It’s something special. 

Yondu and Peter have one of the best, most touching, most complex, most interesting relationships of the whole MCU, and that’s what makes it stick out. Tumblr often loves for relationships to be simple. You’ve got the abusers and the victims, and you should cut abusers out of your life forever and be better for it. Past trauma doesn’t justify projecting it onto your family members, hurting a child can never be forgiven, etc, etc.

And Yondu and Peter’s relationship yeets that simplistic worldview out of the viewport, and my heart with it. Yondu is a piece of trash, sure, 100% true. Yondu beat Peter up. Kidnapped him. Scarred him for life. Made him grow up in the worst environment possible and hurt him in the hopes to toughen him up so he’d survive. Yondu hurt Peter horribly because he was perpetrating a cycle of abuse and neglect he didn’t have the tools to break - we’re talking about a man raised and used as a battle slave from infancy to adulthood - and Stakar was too late to balance that out with his mentorship. So Yondu was messed up, and while he learned to love Peter he didn’t have the means to express it meaningfully, and so he messed Peter up.

Yondu wasn’t what Peter needed, Yondu did abuse Peter, and Peter was right to get away from the Ravagers and to find healing and love and family elsewhere. But it wasn’t the end of the story. And in real life too, it doesn’t need to be the end of the story.

Because Yondu is and has always been aware that he was a terrible parent, and a terrible person, and that Peter is in fact better off without him. And Yondu is sorry, and he wants to make things right while also being painfully aware that he doesn’t deserve to. (And he doesn’t. Nobody ‘deserves’ the forgiveness of the people they’ve hurt.) But he still tries to protect Peter. And he still dies for Peter, which is the single greatest act of love. And even more than that - he goofs around with Peter. He makes himself soft for him - the one unforgiveable sin in the eyes of his crew, the thing that provoked a mutiny and almost got him killed. He loves Peter so much that he can’t help trying to do better by him, even when he doesn’t want to. 

And so they throw insults at each other and they bicker relentlessly, but Peter desperately wants Yondu’s approval, and Yondu desperately want Peter to like him. Peter gets childishly defensive about being shit at handling his Celestial powers (”I made a ball.” “A ball?!” “It was all I could think of!”), and Yondu gets stupidly proud to be compared to someone Peter thinks is cool, and Peter beats Ego’s ass because of Yondu’s advice - and his love for his new family and for Yondu. 

They want the other to want them. And they want to make it work.

And so you don’t get to say “Yondu was toxic and awful and didn’t deserve to ever talk to Peter again!!!!!!!!” any more than “he loved his kid so much, best dad ever <3″ They hurt each other and betrayed each other and stole from each other and tried to kill each other - and they still worked to make sense of the pieces. It’s just a giant mess of feelings and wounds and scars and past hurts and forgiveness and it’s so good.

[starlightxsvt]

Hellion

pairing: Jeonghan x female reader

genre: fluff, suggestive, idk what this is

warnings: cursing

word count: around 1.5k

A/N: Firstly, happy birthday to the Jeonghan, our con man. I know I'm a day late so forgive me for that. Secondly, I've no idea what the hell I wrote. I've cancelled two other drafts I wrote for his birthday cause none of them were coming together and in the end I've decided to post this shit. Anyway, your feedback would be really appreciated in this mess of a story :').

"What's Jeonghan doing here?" You hiss to Mingyu who has a hard time prying his eyes off of Chaeyeon. "I invited him. I never thought he'd actually come. I'm surprised too." He replies.

"Wha- why would you invite Jeonghan to my birthday party!" You glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, "Come on now, he's in our friend group. And college is almost over. You don't know when you'll see him again. Ogle him while he's still here." He smirks.

"What did you just s-"

"Oh come on, don't act like I don't know that he's your secret crush. Maybe make up with him and if you're lucky you'll get some good dick as a birthday present." Mingyu chuckles at your open mouth before scurrying away to avoid your wrath. You glare at his retreating figure before inhaling sharply. And before you can stop yourself, you start to look for him.

You spot Jeonghan at the large porch in the back of Mingyu's house, sitting in one of the porch seats while sipping beer. He looks dashing as always, his black hair messy, his pale skin glowing in the moonlight, his cheekbones getting a prominent shine. You sigh.

Jeonghan was an exhausting person to be around and maybe, he'd say the same for you. You've known him since highschool and after a particular incident of him spilling his banana milk all over your brand new scarf, you decided to call it war. To this day you believe that he did it on purpose because you told your homeroom teacher that he slept during his class.

After that it was like an unspoken rule- you two would bicker whenever you were in the same space. It only infuriated you that he was so good looking, smart, famous and the fact that you had some feelings developing for him. Each time you saw him with a girl you'd feel a bitter feeling all over and you could only hope that those feelings would pass over time. But no they didn't, they only grew- the small branches had formed a tree now, the roots planted deep in your heart.

"How long are you going to stand there and stare at me?" Jeonghan calls, without turning behind. You clear your throat before walking to him, "Didn't expect to see you here, fuck face."

"Can you not call me names for a day please? You're just jealous I'm good looking." He remarks drowning the can of beer.

You snort, "Haha. You wish, loser." You plop down beside him. "I see you've finished quite a few cans. What's up? Got ditched?" You poke him.

"What do you care?"

"You're ruining the mood here with all these sad aura around you. Go drink your sorrows away somewhere else, this is my party."

"Yet you are sitting with me and my sad auras."

"I came to tell you that," you scoff, crossing your arms over.

"Parties are not your thing, I know. And Mingyu wasn't shy on inviting people. It feels more like his birthday than yours." Jeonghan comments, still staring ahead. His words are true and they infuriate you. You can't help but get defensive, "What do you know, sad boy? I'm enjoying myself just fine."

"And yet you are sitting with me and-"

"Stop saying that, will you!" You snap. Jeonghan chuckles before looking at you. He unabashedly eyes you up and down, heating your cheeks up in the process.

"Nice dress," he murmurs. His words catch you off guard and you glare at him, "Stop staring at me, pervert."

"You were staring at me earlier."

"Seriously? Can you stop for one goddamn second?"

"You're the one who started it."

"That's it. I shouldn't have come here," you stand up to leave but to your utter surprise Jeonghan grabs your hand, sending your heart to a frenzy. "Wait."

You swallow nervously, heart thudding loudly in your chest as Jeonghan lets go of your hand and meets your eyes, "Sit down, I've a gift for you."

You frown, "You have a gift for me?" Jeonghan nods before sitting straight, setting down his can. "Before that, I need you to know something."

"W-what?"

"I really didn't spill my milk all over you intentionally that day." He meets your eyes.

You can't help but laugh out loud partially because he's still concerned about that and partially because you believe he's lying.

"Listen here, sad boy, I've put that well past me. And I know for a fact you did it on purpose so don't-"

"You didn't, ___. We've been fighting over that for our whole goddamn lives. And no, I'm not lying. I've no reason to. I never cared if you told our teacher shit or not." His chocolate orbs bore into yours and you swallow. The air surrounding you suddenly becomes thick and you start to feel jittery and maybe a slight amount of guilt. Is he really speaking the truth?

"W-whatever, I don't care anymore." You say, sitting down gently beside him.

"And yet you still hold a grudge against me," Jeonghan sighs. "Besides you're not even fun to fight with."

"What did you say?"

He laughs, his eyes forming crescents and the sweet melody echoing in the air. You quickly look away before he catches you staring, "I don't have all day. Where's my gift?"

"Yeah, right." From beside him he produces a bag that you didn't notice before. He hands it to you and you tentatively peek in, half expecting a bug to jump out.

To your utter surprise, a scarf that looks identical to the one he ruined lies there. A small gasp leaves your mouth.

"I bought it that day after I stained yours. I was going to give this to you as an apology but dear lord, you were on my ass the second I got to class next day." Jeonghan speaks and a blush coats your cheek leaving you feel vulnerable all of a sudden.

"I don't know what to say," You whisper more to yourself. Jeonghan chuckles, "I know, you're touched. It's okay, we're even finally."

You bite your lip and exhale loudly before meeting his eyes, "Thanks." Jeonghan moves his hand in a dismissive wave. "I thought I'd finally give it you, call it a truce. We'll probably never see each other again after this month and I wanted to depart on good terms."

Your throat constricts, an overwhelming sadness enveloping you. He's right, you two would probably never see each other again. His dad owns a huge business and he'd probably go abroad to manage it.

"You're right, let's call it a truce," you whisper staring at the scarf in your lap.

"Come on now, don't look so sad, sad girl," Jeonghan teases you and you roll your eyes. He's still the same.

He hands you a beer, "Have a drink with me to sign the truce." You quietly laugh, taking the can from him. You two share a comfortable silence, staring at the night sky, the music from the party fading into the background until Jeonghan decides to break it.

"I know you like me, ___." The words slip past his lips like it's the most casual thing ever. You choke on your beer before looking at him eyes wide like saucers, "W-what!"

Jeonghan slightly turns to face you, his features calm, "You don't have to act. I've known all along."

Oh. My. God.

Heat spreads all over your face like wildfire. Your first thought is that Mingyu told him. You chew your lip as you see no way out. "W-who told you?" You squeak.

"I've figured it out myself," He says nonchalantly, resting his head on his hand as you stares at you.

"You-you did?"

"Mhmm."

You fumble with the hem of your dress before murmuring out, "I-I should get going." You need to escape him. Forever.

But Jeonghan isn't done. He casually goes on, "I've always thought you were pretty. Even when you get red after losing an argument." You blush furiously as your palms sweat.

"You know I really had no intention of picking a fight with you but you...you were so desperate to bring me down. You always speak too much and I often think about the many ways I could shut your loud mouth. Such a shame, we would've made a great couple."

Your face feels like it's on fire by now. You swallow before nervously laughing, "I s-see what you're doing here...You're trying to p-prank me, asshole."

Jeonghan runs a hand through his hair, sighing, "See? There you go again, running that damn mouth." Your lips press together as you clench your fists, thinking of a way out. In the blink of an eye Jeonghan scoots closer to you and leans in to capture your lips in a kiss.

A squeak leaves your mouth as Jeonghan tilts your head, cupping your cheek. You want to pull back, smack him, call him names but you can only moan as his mouth slots against yours perfectly. Your tongues clash as you grab a fistful of Jeonghan's shirt, moaning.

When you pull back for air, you're mortified, wanting to be swallowed up by the ground. Jeonghan is totally calm as he takes in your messy state licking his lips.

"Do you want to continue?"

"W-wh-what?"

"I said do you want to continue this? If you don't want to I'll leave. If you do then you're coming home with me. Which one is it gonna be, ___?"

You bite your lip. Oh my God. This can't be happening.

You grit your teeth as every ounce of your resolve disappears, "I...I want you."

The smile on Jeonghan's face is victorious, a smile you've seen million times before, a smile that makes you week in the knees. "Good girl." He says encasing your lips in another kiss before standing up holding out his hand. "Come along, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you for any other man. Even when it's morning you'll only be thinking about me," he whispers in your ear before tugging you out of the porch- your heart hammering in your chest as you squeeze the scarf on your hand.

Fuck, you owe Mingyu a fruit basket or some shit now.

A/N 2: Also, that video of Jeonghan exercising made me 🥵🥵 this man is so infurating. I was literally dehydrated from watching that video.

[kanene-yaaay]

No Moving

Kanene’s note: One year ago I threw a surprise party (very small and cozy) in my house and, after some hours, one of mah friends suggested we played some old games from our childhood and I remember my first thought was “Hey, no. We’re not children anymore.” but I said nothing because that sounded a lot like what society would want me to say. We played. And that was one of the best days I’ve ever had. Good enough to give me inspiration for this fanfic. With a lot of chaos and dorky sides and chaos and tickles!!! So I'm giving this to myself as a gift, because, ya know... S e r o t o n i n! Soooo, the lesson? Idk. Be feral, do chaos, play and f**k the society, I guess. Happy day for us all!!! :DD

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Thomas Sanders and his series Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!!  ^w^)b

* This is Ler!Roman and Ler!Virgil with Lee!Logan and Lee!Patton. Around 3.700 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Eu vou traduzir ainda ;w;. Thank you so so so much for being with me through all this crazy and difficult year. It’s been a bless to have all of you in my notes, my askys, and my notifications! Take care of yourself, lollipop, you deserve. <33

[~*~]

It was a sunny day. The heat from the biggest star of our solar system being placated by a relaxing wind incessantly throwing the napkins from the so careful, yet messy – as if this wasn’t a tradition the quartet repeated affectionately every single year – decorated table. The friends positioned themselves around it. The surprise party’s rush being already over after all their screaming, singing, eating and bickering, leaving the four to lazily chat or stare the breeze carrying lonely flowers around Virgil’s – the one who offered his house as a sacrifice to the chaos - yard, making them float in the air for some seconds before forgetting them on the dirt again.

Virgil snored softly from the spot he conquered on the tabletop, taking a peaceful nap. Patton was saying, in the fastest pattern he could muster, all the dad jokes his brain managed to think only to see how much time Logan would continue to give him the silent treatment before finally – and figuratively, the owner of the only brain cell of their group would say if he heard this narrative, - exploded and Roman? 

Well, Roman was bored.

“I HAVE AN IDEA!!”

Then he slammed his hands on the top of the wooden object, successfully scaring Virgil out of it and of his sleeping – leading the poor adult to fall. Not before kicking a cup in Roman’s direction, his moves being weakened enough by his fogged brain so he missed it and hit Roman’s carefully manicured hands, instead, – at the same Patton, by reflex, slapped the two poor persons who had the bad luck of sitting next to him. He gathered the perfect timing to interrupt Logan’s scared jump by his confused ‘Why did- why- Why did you hit ME?’ sputtering.

“Ow.” The one in red shirt held protectively his arm and hand next to his chest, protesting with his usual offended noises as analyzed the light red spots on them and purposely ignored the ‘What the FUCK, Princey??’ shouted by the host. “Ow. O-w. Are you guys seriously going to hit me every time I try to make your poor lifes better, your barbarians? You know what? I am offended. Your peasants. I am going to get my dear Amanda the katana and then I am- I am out.” 

Logan deadpanned in his direction, lifting one of his eyebrows in his disbelief expression as the other didn’t give a single step to the exit. He did his best to maintain the façade as Patton fuzzed over him, hugging and apologizing and hugging and softly petting his head and offering cake before gasping and turning around to fuzz now over Roman. “… Okay. I am taking Patton with me.”

“Over my dead, haunted body.” Virgil quickly proclaimed before his tune got slurred, very much likely still sleepy. “I saw…” He balanced his hands in front of him, eyes wide and hair spiked, very much reminding of a scared cat. “I saw the angel of death, in all his tall dark, cold aura. In front of me. He was right before me, full of-” He moved his hands more, as if that compensated for his lack of words. “Emo.”

“…Thanatos?” Logan pointed.

“Yeah, yeah. That guy.” Virgil came back to his initial position laying down on the cold surface, yawing. “Totally emo.”

“Actually, when he was created-”

“Excuse me. Focus, focus!” The one who initiated the commotion snapped his fingers until all the eyes were fixated on him, glares traveling from interested to unimpressed. “My brilliant idea? That will light up this party and hearts? Drum the drums!” Silence. He turned to Patton, who was staring at a cute butterfly mindless flying around. “Patton! The drums!” The one wearing black rims seemed to come back to reality, drumming his fingers on the table. “Very well!” Roman spun, extending the suspense. Logan came back to scrolling on his phone, Virgil getting closer to take a look, both hiding a smirk when heard the pout in Roman’s tune. “You’re all jerks and boring. Let’s play S.T.O.P!”

That caught their attention.

“Roman, you are…” Logan talked slowly, as if trying to make his words as clear as possible, “aware that we’re adults now, right?”

“Aw, come on, guys!” Patton jolted upright. “Sounds fun! And I think Virgil’s yard is bigger enough to make it even better than when we played in middle school!”

“Exactly! And it was one of your favorites games when you were younger, remember, Specs? I think it’s a good way to celebrate that special date which is your birthday!” Logan scoffed at that, albeit his mind was somewhere else. 

Roman wasn’t wrong, he really used to love this game, especially because he was good at it. His love for sports was often ignored by most of his classmates because of his good grades – Logan never understood why one thing would exclude other – therefore he was constantly forgotten in the team or even underestimated. Two things extremely crucial in a game like this. Roman noticed his contemplating face. “I mean, except you are afraid of losing. Again.” 

“I did not lose! Kyle fell on me and he was the only one supposed to be out and not both of us and you. Know. It!”

“No, no, no! Claire said you were the one who tripped on your way and then YOU fell on Kyle-”

“That is nonsense! If Claire had stopped just one second her Dance of Victory, she would be able to see that, by the angle we both were on the ground there was no way I would be able to-”

“Oh, plu-e-ase. You are just a sore los-”

“What is this game?” Virgil questioned Patton, both letting the bickering fall on the background, who smiled widely, his gaze unfocusing a bit, probably watching some old memories of his childhood.

“It is a very simple but fun game!! One person stays next to a wall and, oh! We call him the Looker by the way! Or even some large thing and the others players stay the most away from him as possible. The person next to the wall has to count until a certain number of his choice and while he is counting everyone is free to wander around the place until he turns around, then every player has to freeze on the same spot and position they were. If you move and the Looker catches you, you’re out. You win if you touch the wall where he was. You can do everything you want as long the Looker is not staring at you.

“There was that one kid who managed to win the game by climbing a tree until he was close enough to jump from it and run to the wall before the Looker shouted he was out.” The one wearing two party hats as ‘cat hears’ stopped to breath. “Ah! Ah! Also! If you’re out you can choose to just watch the game or become the Looker’s partner and try to help him. Roman and Logan used to be the worst ever when together.” He giggled, sounding a bit hysteric.

“Hm. I think they used to call this ‘10 Seconds’ in my school, since you could count only further than 10 seconds.” Virgil then frowned. “Wait, why were they the worst?”

“Uhh, so, you see, the Lookers can use some… attics to try to make you move. Logan and Roman usually choose to-”

“I do NOT wish to participate.” Logan stated, crossing his arms stubbornly. Roman sighed. 

“Well, you do you.” Roman then traveled his glare to the others two. “Are you guys coming? I’m the Looker.”

“I’m in!!” Patton excitedly got up, joggling his way to the yard, casting a slightly worried look at Logan, who was adjusting his chair in order to have a better view of the game. Virgil shrugged, taking off his hoodie and following them, quickly throwing a ‘You ok?’ as he passed next to the most professional of the group.

“Yes.” He deeply breathed, sounding calmer. “Yes, I am.” And then give him a bite of a smile. 

Roman positioned himself before the colorful three foot tall concrete tunnel forgotten there by the last owner, barely catching with the corner of his field view his two friends whispering something to each other, the one wearing two party hats snickering behind his hand, bouncing as also choose a good position far away from him, who tried to not think much about what he just presented. A suspicious feeling crawled the back of his neck.

“Go.” Logan pronounced. 

“Oneeeee, twooo, three, fourfivesixseveneight,” Roman turned away from them, counting in a tune just above a whisper. Patton and Virgil exchanged glances.

When he got at twenty, he turned. 

Only to find Virgil laid on the grass, his arm extended to point something in the sky, Patton crouched by his side, his face firm in a puzzled expression staring in the same direction, hand above his eyes to block the Sun. Roman frowned in confusion, the curiosity tickling the back of his brain until he succumbed to it, also looking at the sky to - surprise, surprise! – find absolutely nothing!

By the time he stared at them again Patton now was in front of Virgil, both making what seemed like a very horrible parody of The Creation of Adam painting. Roman got closer, managing to clearly see the smug smile on Virgil’s face and Patton wobbly lips, very much likely holding laughter. He crossed his arms, staying stubbornly for some seconds before giving up, seeing that none of them moved a single millimeter. 

“You two are so funny.” Roman rolled his eyes, sarcasm dropping from each word. Logan snorted.

This time the Looker counted at only fifteen seconds.

This time Patton was in Virgil’s arms when he turned, one leg suspended dramatically in the air. The third time Roman growled loudly as Virgil was on one knee, pretending to propose to Patton who was frozen in the middle of his faint. In the fourth he didn’t even have the chance to turn before two hands tased his sides, making his knees buckle but being held in the same place when a pair of arms that hugged him from behind, capturing the poor adult in a flow of high-pitched squeaks and surprised laughter at each squeeze and spidering deposited just above his hips. 

Some minutes later soft snorts followed him to the ground when he was finally freed, flames running on his face and his arms firmly pressed at his sides, the ghost tickles leading to a sea of giggles dancing in the air.

“Enough.” Logan cut the moment, all the eyes on him when he got up, stretching and loosening his party tie. The Looker recomposed himself in order to sneak pokes and squeezes on the other two, who quickly dashed their way back to the yard. “You both clearly aren’t taking this seriously enough.” A dangerous gleam took over his eyes, staring intently to Roman, who instantly got the same kind of shine in his own glare, nodding in his direction. Both too much preoccupied to notice Virgil and Patton silently high fiving in the distance.

The game started again, now a very different electricity dancing in the air. Logan sensed an old feeling of nostalgia resting on his back as he analyzed the place and his opponents as things went by. Roman turned for at least three times – the perfect number for things to get really interesting, - before he decided to finally move from his place.

Silent steps, he went right to Patton. Logan breathed in relief, taking the opportunity to adjust his strategic position half behind the tree. Patton kept a pattern of switching from moving too fast in a round and then barely taking a step in the other, however, as Roman stopped before him, and for the way he soundless snickered as The Looker changed his target to Virgil, his weakness was still holding his laughter when stared for long periods of time.

Virgil was sitting on the grass. Again. A very good tactic when you tend to fidget or tremble a lot. He would stay in the same position for some rounds until in an explosion of energy dash forward when Roman wasn’t paying attention. The Looker crouched in front of him, his index finger pointing and almost touching his nose.

“You. I don’t trust you.”

And then there was Logan.

“You,” Roman stared in distance – not because of fear pffff of course not - Logan’s form half hidden by the foliage and trunk of the medium tree, his glass making his eyes gleam in a light even more enhanced due the shadow provided by the plant, the rest of his face being partially hidden because of his bangs falling on his features. “are fucking creepy. Stop.”

In the next round Patton gave everyone a heart attack when he screamed since he didn’t heard/saw Logan approaching his spot. Two more rounds. Virgil sneezed and lost his balance in a not very ideal mid-run position. Out.

“Oh, thank gracious, great goodness!! Come here, Knight Mare!! I have an idea!!” Virgil barely had time to stop swearing for losing before being recruited by Roman, who immediately began to whisper in his ear.

 “What do you think they’re talking about?” Patton asked, both being close enough for the question doesn’t need to be spoken above a murmur.

“Not a good thing for us both, I am sure.” In that moment The Lookers turned and a cold shiver ran Logan who, for the way Patton trembled, wasn’t the only one. Adrenaline started pulsing on his veins when they approached, although the birthday person had no idea of why. His old memories too much buried under newer ones for him to catch them.

“Nooohoho.” The cat lover whined and the fact Roman clearly saw that but did nothing to point it, his only reaction being to expand his grin, worsened Logan fears, a ray of recognition finally shining on his mind. That should be how karma feels.

“Look at you both, just standing right there, not being allowed to move an only single inch. What a sad fate, don’t you think, Princey?”

“Oh, absolutely, emo. A horrible, wondrous thing, indeed. But you know what that would be perfect for?” Roman now was just a few centimeters away, the infinitesimal distance being cut when he inclined forward, his breath tickling Patton’s – Poor Patton – ear. “Revenge. You know, Pattycake, Hot Topic here told me the previous attack on my amazing person was your idea. And now that I stop to think, what a wonderful idea, don’t you think, Pat-pat?”

Virgil pulled lightly Roman’s shoulder, sensing the other about to crack but yet having too much fun to end this all so early. “But not now. No touching, right?”

“Oh, right, right. Of course, no touching!” He wiggled his fingers, barely away from the poor target’s ribs, his cheeks already beginning to get pink from blush. “No touching, no touching, no touching, but, most important than anything else: no. moving.”

“Oh, yeah.” Virgil took the opportunity to walk around, stopping right behind Patton, who firmly closed his eyes, the smile he carried getting bigger. “Because the exact, very moment when you can’t take the teases anymore so you break and move?” He tsked. “Then all your protection will be over and you will be all helpless and vulnerable for us to tickle,” He almost purred the words, in the slowest way possible. “tickle, tickle, tickle for hours and hours. Can you imagine that, Popstar? Our fingers prodding and squeezing and tickling every single ticklish spot they find?”

“Ohoho.” Roman evil laughed. “Tickle spots? My Dear Imbalanced Romance, our pipsqueak here doesn’t have any tickle spots. He IS a tickle spot. Ah! I can almost hear his hysteric high-pitched squeaks and giggles! Such an adorable, beautiful, cute melody to my ears. Actually, I don’t know if I will ever be able to stop, Virgil. It’s just all too beautiful and intoxicating, you know?”

“Mm hm,” The other seemed to stop to think. Patton felt like he was going to melt at any moment. “Well, we could always just keep going forever.”

“Of course!” Roman again ignored the slight trembling of the cat lover’s chest, probably due all the giggles trapped there. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful and oh, so, so fun, cutiepants? Receiving all the tickles and nuzzles and raspberries and tickle hugs and tickly butterfly kisses forever and ever and ever? ~” He sing-song the last part.

“But,” Logan almost jumped in the same place, not even realizing how much keyed up he was before Virgil’s breath attacked the back of his defenseless neck. Suddenly all his nerves were hype-aware that he couldn’t turn around or run or even rub away the tingles. Goosebumps ran freely across his spine. “Let’s not forget about our so sensitive nerd here too, right?”

“Sure. Sensitive.” If he didn’t know Roman for all these years, Logan would almost swear he was the Cheshire cat, his smirk almost blocking Patton who hugged himself behind him, giggling quietly. “Because the serious, smart, professional Logan would never be ticklish, right? That is such a childish thing and he definitely, definitely outgrow it for now.”

“Yup. I am sure that, if we slowly and thoroughly spider our fingers all the way up from his sides to his armpits, being sure to give each and every rib a special attention since we don’t want to let anyone feeling left out, there will be no reaction.”

“Absolutely! No reaction at all! Not even if we squeeze the hollows of his hips, or scribble on his already quivering tummy, or massage his shoulder blades or lightly, almost not touching, scratch his armpits… It will be all in vain since our birthday boy is not ticklish.”

“Which means: No wheezy, frantic laughter.”

“Or sputtering among his squeals.” 

“Or cute snorts. Don’t forget the snorts.”

“And what about when the snorts get mixed with his belly laughter?”

“Ohh, that is some good shit you have there.”

Logan was dying. He was fucking dying and the only thin line keeping him alive was his stubborn nature. He could already feel his barrier cracking and crumbling right before him. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, only to find both Lookers walking away back to the tunnels, not taking long before starting to count, this time out loud. The one with the, now freaking out, braincell began to snap his fingers non stop, trying to get away some of the built excited energy, some titters escaping from his lips during his happy stimming.

Roman and Virgil looked at each other and then the adorable scene right in front of them, deciding to have mercy and wait patiently for Logan and Patton – who yet didn’t stop giggling and hugging himself – to calm down.

(…)

One. Move.

And in the next second, they both were tackled on the ground.

“No, no, no!!! No!!” Patton was already giggling, trying to run from Roman’s firm hug, attacking with squeezes and scribbles in every spot he succeeded to research on the Looker as he also tried to escape from his friends’ hands attempting to hold him in the same place. “Wait, wait!” He cried, barely catching a glimpse of Logan’s trashing before an idea popped in his mind. “If we all gang up on Logan, I will tell about his secret tickle spot!!”

“Patton!!” Logan’s protest came out difficulty between his tight grin due his constant effort in trying to buckle Virgil from him, both struggling to immobilize the other and playfully rolling in the grass. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Pffft.” Roman said, a happy cry following his sentence when he finally managed to hold one of Patton’s hands, intertwining their fingers so the cat lover wouldn’t try to pry it away. “Nonsense, I know his tickle spots.”  

“Not all of them. ~”

“Patton, I am to going not figuratively end you. Get OFF, Virgil-”

“In your dreams.” He crackled. “Also, Patton, I’m listening.”

“Virgil! Don’t align with the enemy! And, of course I know all of them!”

“Even the one…”

“Patton, no! Stop!” Roman even if concentrated in tickling Patton’s knee so he could sit on his legs, got the slight tremble in Logan's voice, his curiosity one more time starting to take over his brain.

“Sorrey, sorrey, Lo! You know I love you but-”

“Patton, please.” Logan almost smiled as he fought his way to hug and trap Virgil from behind, but losing his balance as the other quickly turned and delivered a raspberry on his neck and quick squeezes on his left thigh. “dON’T!! I-I am going to bakeEEK - Fuck! - you a whole batch of cookies if you don’t tell them!”

Roman caught in the offer, his curiosity immediately perking up, answering in a bat:

“I’m going to tickle you both to pieces if you don’t tell us now.”

“Sorrey, Logan,” Patton tried to sound apologetic, but his excited smile made this task more difficult. “it’s you or me.”

“I’m going to tell them about your calves!” Logan threatened at the same time Patton said “It’s his lower back!”

“TRAITOR!” Both also shouted in synchrony. In a blink of eye Roman let Patton go and helped Virgil to make the most serious one of the group lay down on his stomach.

“I despise you all.” The aforementioned pronounced.

“Aww. Come on.” Virgil lowered, searching the other’s eyes, grinning. “Aren’t you enjoying the view?”

“400.000 years of evolution for humanity to become this. You all should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“You know, talking like this makes me think you don’t want us to give you your so dearly craved birthday tickles, Pocket Protector!”

The three of them stared at the other, looking carefully for any slight indication that Logan was truly uncomfortable with the situation, receiving as response only a scoff, the blush painting his face as a whispered mumble flew from his mouth.

“You’re so cute!” Patton squealed, giving a light tickly kiss on the back of his neck, leading the attacked to suppress a small giggle which progressively got louder as the cat lover tickled his armpits, Roman and Virgil seeing unfazed by Logan’s squirming. “Okay, okay. You have to tickle his lower back but starting with reeeeeally slow scratches at his sides before speeding it to the fastest scribbling you can muster as you move to his spine!”

Logan hid his hot face behind his hands, the yelps and snorts already escaping between his fingers. He was, objectively, going to love every single second of this.

[luvargas]

     i think i just saw LUCILA “ LU ” VARGAS ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was her . after all , CREDIT IN THE STRAIGHT WORLD BY HOLE was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe she was on her way to work , i hear she’s a PERSONAL TRAINER . but she totally could have been on her way to SNEAK IN A SMOKE AT THE GARDEN . guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its her when you see LOOSE AND TANGLED HAND WRAPS , BUTTON BADGES ON VEGAN LEATHER ,  AND HEAR THE SHRILL SOUND OF BICKERING around the country club . let’s just hope she stays off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get her !

( new muse, messy thoughts, u get the gist. pls know the views of this chara do not reflect my own. the name’s katya, 21, she/her pronouns & im ready 2 party. feel free to hmu wnvr or drop a like to plot n ill com 2 u ! x — oh n pls be a pal n read this quick disclaimer. tysm ! )

BASICS

24 years old

15 april 1997

5′1″ or 1.55m tall

bisexual cis woman, she/her

aries sun, aqua moon, and aqua rising

love languages : quality time & acts of service

BIO POINTS

kid o’ divorce, lived w her ma in chicago til she was 6 then w her dad in highlands til 14 then back to her ma ! 

def a daddys gorl. so used to her white pop’s leniency that livin w her strict latina ma durin her teen yrs was So Not Her Vibe ergo * cue her rebel grrrl phase *

did not finish hs ! left senior yr 2 to go w her “ radically progressive ” college bf to [ insert dev country. ] they broke up after a few mos but she kept at that life for a couple more yrs

seen some places. lived in new countries. done some shit. some good, some sus, but all generally well-intentioned. tis a whole thing but u get the gist, nywy !

lu’s back in da usa by 21. rel w the ma is strained but the pa is chill w stuff, they kept in touch. he said shell get her college fund if she gets her ged so she does !

her dad is v active n stuff so shes just always been v sporty w him. lu turnin 23 w zilch plans worried him so he implored her to get certified as a personal trainer ! n when she did, he called in a few favors w a pal he knows et voilà ! ur hired.

LU AT WORK

shes been workin at the country club fr a little over a yr now. most her clients are influencer-type gals n they luv her bc shes can take rlly cute pics n stuff for content. lu sorta likes some of em n she fakes the rest for the bread. u can bet she clowns all em richies behind their back   

unless she got clients, catch her runnin’ about the club n minglin’ w the other workers. does it annoy mngmt ? yes. n she luvs that. but bc her soon-2-b-karen clients luv her n wont stand for her bein booted, she can milk that impunity

actually knows her shit n lowkey rlly enjoys the work. she picked back up the boxing n tae kwon do she did when she was younger plus she was always in the track team at school. v healthy lifestyle save for her smokin vice n the party moments

PERSONALITY 

passionate ! has lotsa opinions. helluva a drama queen, bit of a loud mouth, argumentative n stubborn but her heart’s in the right place, albeit a lil misguided. comes w the whole activist bit, bitin her tongue just aint it. highkey makes everythin political n smtms gotta realize .,.,. it just aint that deep chief. some say shes needlessly defiant, but maybe thats a in the beholder typa thing ? fingers crossed 4 lu’s sake

fun, fun, fun ! can be real naggy but shes no buzzkill. wannabe anarchist-slash-mutineer who wants 2 stick it 2 the man ! get rowdy go crazy

fight, fight, fight ! goin back to the first bit, she talks big. esp w like ,, men n the whites lol. she can actually walk her threats tho she isnt actually violent. w arguments, she likes to start em but finishin is ... ruff.  also any dare, she wont back down in either doin it or arguin why doin it wld be smth-ist. shes not the sharpest tool ok rip lu

loyal legend ! fr her friends n buds, shell turn a blind eye. pals r the only exception ! truly ride or die n will do errthng 4 em. v much a believer in the power of community n ppl needin ppl or wtvr, yk, all that stuff. shes mouthy but like, she helps ppl 

here’s a brief blurb n a more coherent look into lu as a character

TIDBITS

lu can understand spanish but hers is a bit broken, tis her secret shame shhh

she doesn’t believe in the institution. any institution. u name it, shes got beef

pls dont fact check her she cant hear u

probs lowkey thinks shes better than u bc shes vegan

prefers 2 be called “ lu ” n ny1 who insists on lucila is dead 2 her 

comments abt her not lookin like a pt w her height n frame will result in an earful n a dramatic outburst. it aint worth it chief

watches lotsa sports w her pops. mostly indiv ones. mma, boxing, tennis, track, etc

dont ask me abt her principles n politics, i cant explain em either. v inconsistent n just messy at this point tbh but here’s a lil attempt ig

she drives a 2018 prius n lives in a p nice 1br apt outside the club

her mom’s middle class n her dad is almost upper-middle class. he isnt a member of the club but, like ,,, he cld be if he wanted to lol. he spoils her sm while she hasnt rlly Spoken to her mom besides civility, rip they both stubborn, tis a vargas thing

she is v much in a comfy position money-wise n dsnt hav much Need to hustle but sis does hav a couple of organizations she regularly sends some dough to so thats nice ig

she went fr grassroots activist to a veteran twitter/tumblr/reddit/wtvr ranter n a change.org gofundme petition regular. is it burnout ? is she ok ? honestly who knows

WANTED CONNECTIONS / TAKEN CONNECTIONS

found family ! pals n squad wanted. y’all gotta hav patience or ear plugs to power thru her self-indulgent mini-rants but shell luv ya back tenfold !

carpool buds ? cld be a pal ! or maybe yall had a lil argument or small beef but lu still drives ym bc her pride ? said mother earth first even tho the tension n silly drama is funny 

homies to smoochies ! just sum nsa makin out. cld be pals, cld be flirty, idk, but if u wanna kiss her shes probs ok w that

smoke bud ! just sum1 thats her go-to 2 smoke w on her breaks. knows not to call her out on how its not healthy fr a trainer yada yada she knows ok. let her live

an ex ? idk yet shes not rlly datey but thats out there

crushes ! this bitch hot but does she know how to flirt ? not rlly. watch her fumble

debate club ! aka sum1 she bickers w relentlessly. its valid, sum1 fite her. r u a worker or a club member ? either works. its a whole club bc she can have tons, lu can be hella annoying n testy

clients ! self-explanatory. do they get along tho ? lets find out ! 

( im officially braindead now but if y’all got more ideas or think theres smth lu wld fit just lmk !!! down 4 wtvr, wld luv 2 hash it out w yall <3 ) 

[reversecreek]

lily for magda (thinking about figs feeling evil), tulip for cricket, marigold for ziggy, chrysanthemum for bradley, belladonna for nyla

lily :   how does your muse view their mother ?  

magda doesn’t know a lot abt her mum. she knows vague snippets n details bt they’re all very elusive. it’s kind of a tricky subject where her mum’s concerned bc when she was younger she’d come up w all these assumptions abt how her mum was n who she’d be if she were with her but the rational part of magda was like..... u don’t know any of this. ur literally making things up. it’s kind of hard for a kid to have that vital person missing from their life n to resist the urge to fill in the blanks with their own projections so the space feels less empty. it’s like having a tooth missing n ur tongue always going back to poke at the spot in ur gum. there’s a constant reminder of loss in that. magda knows her mum liked to sing bc her dad said once she’d always sing to her belly when she was pregnant. this is a lot of the reason why magda has always cared so much abt music bc she took this fact in her fist n grasped it tight n never let go n in a way grew parts of herself around it. it’s like............. i feel like her mum dying in childbirth gave her lots of issues when it comes to her identity n like. who she is n who she wants to be.......... bc of magda’s issues w her dad i feel like she got into this habit growing up of rly putting who her mum could have been on a pedestal n basing everything around that.... she’d be like I’m More Like Her (a belief which was only accelerated bc her dad would drunkenly say she looked so much like her) n cling onto that so she liked herself more bc the other option was her dad who she loves but he’s also an incredibly flawed person n they hv a complicated relationship...... i think as she’s gotten older she’s realised her mum cld very well have been that way too n putting people on pedestals isn’t the way to go about things but. idk. as a kid she was kind of obsessed w this idea of her n this idea that her mum being gone was the beginning n end of everything wrong in her life. for the most part now magda accepts she never knew her n sometimes even feels stupid for grieving her at all bc she never knew her to grieve in the first place but. there’s a tiny part of magda tht still hangs on to the comfort of what she could have had n it’s obvious by the fact she still keeps a photograph of her folded up in her pillow. she loves the mum she made up in her head n she wishes she got to meet her. there’s this sense tht maybe then she wouldn’t feel like this culmination of missing parts more than a person if she’d had that in her life. sighs n lks away holding my dyed black emo bang.....

tulip :   how does your muse view people in general ?  

cricket is like. the strangest little anomaly of a person FGHKSFGHSFKGH bc like. u would rly think that after everything he’s been thru he would just have this absolutely jaded view of people and life in general and i wouldn’t even......... blame him for it if he did like. i’d understand completely bc he’s experienced A Lot of bad stuff. n yet somehow he just.... idk. i think i wrote in a reply once this comparison of cricket n a cockroach in the sense that they have this incredibly reinforced exoskeleton n even if they’re stomped flat they can keep living n bounce back from it n that’s very him but it’s more specifically the hope inside him. he has this little candle lit that good things can still happen midst all of the terrible things n i genuinely can’t see it snuffing out at any point even tho sometimes he might want it to. sometimes i think he even gets into these frames of mind where it jst infuriates the fk out of him bc in his head he’s like why do u even think good shit can happen when u have sm overwhelming evidence to the contrary but then he’s also like. look u can dwell on the bad or u can notice the way the light falls thru the leaves in the trees and u can think to urself inside ur head as u listen to someone u love talking abt something that makes them happy ‘hey this feeling is nice n there’s a dozen others like it’. idk. against all odds he’s an optimist. he has tinnitus in his left ear n sometimes he pretends the ringing is angels trying to talk to him. he likes to search for the silver linings in things to make them bearable n that’s how he gets by. obviously he knows there’s evil in the world n that a lot of people can be shit bc he has firsthand experience w that but he also believes there are people to serve as the antithesis to that n he wants to focus on them bc like. why give bad stuff the time of day. not necessarily always a positive coping mechanism (if u bottle up bad feelings n thoughts they leak thru one way or another aka his overwhelming anxiety) but like.... i think there’s a lot of bravery in that n i respect him for it i won’t lie. he cld have become very bitter bt instead he’s like that quote that’s like 'the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it'. suddenly slaps his little anxious rump (supportive) (affectionate)

marigold :   is your muse prone to jealousy ?  how might they handle envious feelings ?  

it’s hard to say w ziggy............... i feel like he doesn’t want to think he’s prone to jealousy bc he’s like i’m literally a god wdym i simply wld never give a fk bc i know i’m above all else................. but like. do u actually believe that ziggy. do u. FKGJHKSJGHFGSHFGKSHGKFHG. he’s good at convincing himself at least........... has me fooled too most of the time. bt. thinks abt this.............. i feel like he doesn’t tend to get jealous over ppl he hooks up w a lot of the time bt there’s definitely a few select ppl he might.......... n then he doesn’t rly know what that feeling is bc he’s so unused to feeling it so he’s like wtf why am i so fking pissed off over the thought of this person fking that person? like literally doesn’t even. connect the dots n make the logical conclusion bc it jst seems so bizarre n nonsensical to him. rly is awful at working out his own feelings like. he cld just suddenly explode one day n have to smash a bunch of shit in a junkyard n after his chest is heaving n he has all this broken stuff around him n he’s just like yo wtf was that man forreal lmfaoooooooooo..... like he just doesn’t even get how his own emotions work it’s tragic n it’s men for u. w anxious feelings he represses them a lot he doesn’t rly understand what they r or know how to recognise them........... i honestly feel like he has a lot of anxiety surrounding his mum esp w her dating n like some of the guys they’ve both had to deal w that she’s dated in the past.......... i doubt he processes that healthily or expresses it healthily either..... probably contributes to the tensions between him n his mum they hv a lot of underlying issues that come out in the form of bickering n petty disagreements...... probably a huge contributor to him acting out so terribly in high skl was just all this pent up worried energy with no means of making sense of itself or like. place to go. like shaking a coke bottle over n over n finally having to crack the lid n let it fizz on something. i also think he probably swallowed a lot of jealousy growing up whenever other kids had gd relationships w their fathers or parents in general probably ws kind of like lmfaooooo yo why don’t mine love me like that. in his head...... so ya. i think he copes w anxious feelings by acting out n also fucking if we’re being honest......... it helps him let off steam <3 king of clapping cheeks ig....

chrysanthemum :   how does your muse express romantic love ?  how do they feel about love as a concept ?  

bradley is kind of hard to read romantically like from an outside perspective but slides on my thin rimmed spectacles n picks up my scalpel to delve right in to the nitty gritty of her brain... omg... that sounded... kind of scary actually but. it’s ok. basically settles in. bradley struggles to verbalise her feelings in this regard but also in a general sense honestly.... like she’s spent a lifetime having any vulnerable or negative feeling shut down....... her dad’s the type of personality where it’s like... u can’t win. even tho he’s narcissistic n thinks he’s a god if u compliment him or express affection he’ll act pleased but there’ll also be this register in his eyes where he thinks less of u for it. so this rly had a domino effect in bradley’s emotional expression in all grounds of life...... romance is probably the most frivolous concept to tony so bradley definitely internalised some of these views n wld feel stupid for ever taking anything seriously in that regard or rly investing herself..... she also just. idk. love has only ever left bite marks in bradley’s world so she’d kind of like ‘why wld i ever expose my tender spots n open myself up to someone just so they can sink their teeth in’. i will say tho that like. despite that she can in rare instances develop those feelings n it’s always like..... quite a struggle for her when she does. she doesn’t rly understand it or how to deal w it. she finds talking about it hard n she feels childish or weak in the eyes of whoever knows how she’s feeling. it takes a long time n a lot of work to earn it bt bradley in love is like. ur the only person on the planet who knows how gentle she can b. she’d literally like. touch the face of this one guy i wrote her being in love w when he was sad so gently it was shocking it ws like a love tht deep unlocked a whole other part of her she didn’t know existed. sex is a big part of her love expression jst like. a lot of it. so much. JHGSFKHGSFGKHFKGSHG let’s get it.......... she’s a ride or die n doesn’t do anything in halves. she has a nasty habit of pushing good things away n also wld probably do this to protect the other person bc her world is a never ending shit show with her father’s presence in every room even when he isn’t physically there. she wldn’t wna subject someone she loved to the danger of that bc she hates it enough herself so. idk. smiles w hand on hip. love isn’t something bradley thinks is on the menu fr her bc she’s only ever known it to be hard or mean n why bother trying when that’s the case. it feels like there’s always small print attached tht will hurt her in the end n nothing is free or genuine. very doomed outlook on love in general tbh.

belladonna :   how does your muse respond to silence ?   do they take comfort in soundlessness ,   or seek to fill the void with noise ?  

nyla honestly doesn’t mind silence at all........ they always wake up rly early in the morning no matter what time they went to bed. it’s like someone programmed an oven timer into their brain n often when they wake up at 6am or something they’ll go on walks around irving tottering in their own little world which is quite a quiet experience in itself when the rest of the world’s asleep........... always off on impromptu adventures they came up w on the spot.......... sometimes they get lost in their own train of thought too so they just randomly fall silent bc they’re having a whole conversation w themselves inside their head or like. writing a whole children’s story abt an iguana in a trench coat floating in a hot air balloon smoking a little vintage pipe all the way to peru. honestly for every 1 thing nyla says there’s about 4987295749572592745 things they don’t say tht are x100 times stranger n more nonsensical they sort of let it all drift thru their head like an open sieve for the most part. having said tht i think in order to sleep at night they probably need some sort of white noise or smthn................. it’s handy living in a beach house bc they just leave the window open to let the ocean gush bt sometimes if they’ve snuck into like. mido’s bed fr the night or someone’s bed idk the sound of them breathing works too................. they used to always sleep w bob ross playing on loop n that was rly comforting to them esp bc he reminds them a lot of their dad w his calming voice n energy.............. sometimes they’d have taken smthn n they’d literally hallucinate it as their dad instead of bob ross n this happened so many times in a row fr a period of time tht when they finally watched it sober they were like wtf since when did they recast my dad in this show...... KJHFGSHFGKSHFKGH but also. frowns... bit sad considering. 

[mlobsters]

supernatural s7e10 death's door (w. sera gamble)

"dick is coming." *cut to "the rise of dick" graphic* i literally facepalmed. "he's making the doctor eat himself" you know. these leviathans, the special effects are so bad. this is supposed to be a sad bobby episode, quit snarkin.

i like bobby but i don't really have any emotional attachment to him either, i just can't seem to connect with jim beaver. and this feels like an honoring the special character we're killing off type episode. we'll see if they manage to get any tears out from me (if they do it'll be almost definitely via the boys' feelings)

BOBBY No, listen to me, Rufus. I’m gonna die! RUFUS Oh, now that’s a realistic view of the mortality rate on a ghost hunt. RUFUS is holding an EMF reader, which lights up and makes noises. RUFUS Whoa, whoa, Nellie, red line. All right, baby boy, here we go.

(see now there's an actor i can connect with! i'm glad we have this excuse to bring rufus back)

obligatory comment that this reaper is young and cute. winchester and co get the fresh ones, apparently

RUFUS I'll be a prima ballerina. Wait, wait, Bobby. Are you trying to tell me I'm just one of your better memories?

♥️

BOBBY You're coming with me, Rufus. RUFUS What? BOBBY I need my partner on this. Please.

--

BOBBY So, you're telling me that the way out was through your worst memory? RUFUS It's an important door, Bobby.

so er uh WAIT

the magicians s4e5 escape from the happy place

this is like the magicians episode s4e5 (periodic reminder sera was showrunner there too) escape from the happy place! eliot has to go through his worst memories to find the door to talk to quentin while he's possessed by the monster! lol

CHARLTON There's a door somewhere. Hidden deep in a forgotten remembrance.

ELIOT Huh. So just my most repressed and traumatic memory.

that's just. so funny. because that's the episode that really attracted a bunch of people to the fandom because it's where queliot became like.. canon with a possible future, as opposed to something that happened in the past (in a time loop). oh and hey i made some dumb parallels/comparatives thing with the smith/wesson spn episode and that episode here and i painted the queliot kiss from that ep to

all right. back to the spn. not telling your wife you don't want kids when you knew she did? not cool, bobby.

speaking of not cool. that startled me badly and poked that DV trigger. wanna show manly idiot grief exploding in aggression, do it not right next to a person's head. have him turn around and hit something. ugh.

DEAN He's not gonna die. SAM He might. DEAN Sam. SAM Dean, listen – we need to brace ourselves. DEAN Why? SAM Because it's real. DEAN What do you want to do? You want to hug and – and say we made it through it when Dad died? We've been through enough.

dean handling this as well as i expected. gotta lean on each other, man. don't leave sam alone with his satan-vision.

BOBBY (on phone) No, we didn't shoot rifles, as a matter of fact. We threw a ball around. He's a kid, John. They both are. They're entitled. Yeah, I know I ain't their dad.

you know i'm always here for john winchester shade.

BOBBY’S FATHER Good. You break everything you touch. BOBBY Uh-huh. Well, as fate would have it, I adopted two boys, and they grew up great. They grew up heroes. So you can go to hell!

nice to hear bobby's proud of them. his best memory being movie night with the boys bickering did get to me.

tw cancer / parental death under the cut

that fight with dean being in denial about bobby possibly dying and leaving sam alone in the hospital.. just got the mental calculation of how realistic is this type of clash, but then okay my dad died from cancer when i was 16, he was at home with hospice care. but my mom.. she died when i was 32. in the hospital, from cancer.

me and my brother were out there, she lived in az and i was in minnesota at the time, my brother in new england. she checked into the hospital for some biopsies and then rapidly declined and died 2 weeks later. we didn't even know she had cancer before then. so we were with her the last week. obviously real life is different from a show.

but i did have a moment where i had to leave. my brother was trying to help my mom have some ice chips but she was really so out of it, she couldn't deal with a solid in her mouth and she started choking. brought up one of the worst memories of when my dad was sick. mom woke me up, frantic, pulled me downstairs because my dad couldn't breathe and he was trying to sign something to her in ASL in the alphabet but she didn't know the letters. he was saying he couldn't breathe.

anyway. this show manages to jab me in the dead parents feelings routinely.

[olde-scratch]

It Happened Again

Fandom: Hermitcraft (s7)

Summary: Grian compares Grumbot to NPC Grian and RoboGrian and ends up almost having a mental breakdown.

Notes: Based on this amazing comic by @grians-of-salt (please check it out, it’s really good!) | I’m saying this is Character!Grian since this fic includes the robots he made for his videos, which have nothing to do with Hermitcraft | Grumbot loves his Dads | I’m new to posting stuff like this on Tumblr so if I miss something in this little intro section, yell at me

Warnings: Robot death, Angst

Word Count: 4,515

——————————

It wouldn't happen again.

    As Grian placed block after block, creating Grumbot's exterior, he tried to convince himself this was true. Over and over and over. This wouldn't be like nay of Grian's other failed projects--like NPC Grian or RoboGrain. This wouldn't be a rustic house-creating disaster or an aspiring murderer with a monotone voice.

    Grumbot was going to be different. Mumbo was helping with this one. And Mumbo was better at the technical stuff than Grian was ever going to be.

    Grian placed the final block of concrete, stepping back to view his creation so far.

    A smile overtook his face.

    It wouldn't happen again.

——————————

"I've developed artificial intelligence in Minecraft, making use of redstone. Y'know, I'm quite proud of myself on that one. It took a day, and--"

    "A day!" Grian interrupted. (It took him at least a few months to create NPC Grian and God knows how many more to make RoboGrian.) "Just cracked artificial intelligence, like that--just took a day. Really long time."

    Mumbo chuckled. "Yeah. So, um, it should--it should all be working and we should be able to start asking it questions and things?"

    "Okay, um..." Grian tilted his head. "Should we--How does--How does it work?"

    Mumbo lead him over to the interface, Grian immediately focusing on the fact that there were buttons--four of them, one with a diamond block behind it. He directed Grian over to the left of Grumbot's control panel and explained the output--a dropper that the "mayoral advice" came from.

    "And then, we have the different stages of priming, all of which are incredibly important..." Mumbo added as he head Grian over to the buttons.

    Grian looked over the buttons, reading them out--"Prime Grumbot. Step two: Bootload Brain... Step three: Flood mayoral reservoir--"

     "Yep, that's most important."

    Grian turned to Mumbo, obviously puzzled. "What does that even mean?! What does flood mayoral--"

    "You've just gotta flood the mayoral reservoir," Mumbo said with a shrug. "You know, you've just gotta get them flooded and... mayoral."

    "We may be the first humans ever to use that sequence of words--flood mayoral reservoir--"

    Mumbo furrowed his brows. "Maybe. That might have never been said before."

    Grian let out a laugh. "I wouldn't be surprised! And now I'm curious of the situation that someone else used it." He returned his focus to the control panel, reading out the final step: "Deposit Question Diamond."

    "Yes!" Mumbo chirped.

    Grian looked between him and the label, quiet. "Deposit--What--What does that mean?"

    "Yeah, you have to name a diamond," Mumbo explained, "that's--that's the question, and then, yeah, you make your payment."

    "You designed a machine that we have to pay to use?!"

    Mumbo blinked, obviously just now comprehending what he'd done. "Oh, yeah, you w--yeah..."

    Grian couldn't help but laugh at his face.

    "I was the one that built this," Mumbo continued, still looking a little shell-shocked. "Why did I make it charge...?" He chuckled. "I mean, I just thought--! Y'know, like--he--he probably has feelings, too!" He gestured up to Grumbot, both of them backing up to get a better view of Grumbot's curious eyes. "He's artificial intelligence, he doesn't wanna be doing this for free!"

    (Grian would have to make sure NPC Grian and RoboGrian never heard that. They'd start demanding payment for what they've already done and if--if Grian ever needed them again, they'd want diamonds in return.)

    "Everyone on the server just wants diamonds!" Grian complained half-jokingly. "That's all anyone cares about! Even the things we create, they want diamonds!"

    "I know, I know!" Mumbo assured. "It's a real problem--Should we start chucking questions into this thing? I've only done tests so far, I'm really curious if it actually does... work."

    Grian agreed, and so they started brainstorming on what to ask.

Mumbo asked first: "What is our slogan?"

    He took the diamond from the anvil and approached the control panel. He primed Grumbot, bootloaded the brain, and flooded the mayoral reservoirs.

    The buttons let out short beeps as they were pressed, prompting Grian to grin. ("There's one thing that's better than a button--that's a button that goes be-beep!")

    ("Exactly!" Mumbo agreed with a look back at him.)

    Mumbo put the diamond in the dropper. "Right--do you wanna do the honors?"

    Grian pressed the final button.

    A few more beeps echoed out of Grumbot, the people before him backing up to watch his face.

    "Alright, it's calculating!" Mumbo said.

    "Yes--!" Grian lurched forward as a quick be-be-beep! came forth, much different from the previous 

    The first paper popped out, Grumbot's mustache wiggling.

    "Oh, his mustache!" Grian laughed, picking up the paper. "That's like a proper thinking--"

    MUMBO FOR MAYOR!

    Grian announced it to Mumbo, surprised and amazed. It was good so far--that was their slogan.

    Next test: "What is the meaning of life?"

    Mumbo stammered, "What? Dude--no, no--wait--no, this is a mayoral bot, man!"

    Grian snickered.

    "I mean, it's artificial intelligence, but--"

    Grian popped the diamond into the dropper and turned to the buttons. "Uh, prime--"

    Be-beep! Be-beep! Be-beep! Be-beep!

    "I mean, you said you cracked AI. And there it goes--"

    "Doesn't mean it's that smart, dude," Mumbo protested with a laugh as they backed up.

    NPC Grian and RoboGrian had answered the question--"Life is like a rustic house. You work on it until it is done, then you work on a new one. And you work on it until it is done, then you work on a new one. And you work on it until it is done--" and "Life has no meaning, only purpose. My purpose is to destroy humans. Especially you, Grian. You are magnificent. Why have you programmed me this way?"

    Grumbot beeped a few more times.

    The paper popped out.

    Fear loomed over him. Would this one hate him? Would it be obsessed with a single thing? Would it be intent on world destruction?

    "He's got an answer for us!" Grian exclaimed, hoping his voice didn't sound strained. A few giggles escaped, a tremor in his hands.

    "He presented an answer," Mumbo agreed.

    Grian picked up the paper.

    A scream tore itself out of him, though he quickly corrected it into a laugh. He stumbled over his explanation, staring in what he hoped looked more like elation than horror.

    MUMBO FOR MAYOR.

    He didn't clearly remember what happened next--Mumbo made a few jokes, and Grian probably responded in kind but--

    "Maybe it's the meaning of life for Grumbot?" Grian suggested, mostly to himself, looking up at the robot's glowing face.

    Mumbo said it might have been a bug.

    "Maybe it just says "Mumbo for Mayor" no matter what we put in."

 Test three. "Can you say anything different?"

    Grian bit his tongue as Mumbo pressed the buttons. He half-heard himself repeating the be-beep!s.

    Grumbot's mustache wiggled.

    A paper popped out.

    His eyes turned sad.

    Was... Was that a good thing...?

    "I think we might've insulted his intelligence a little bit," Mumbo said as he and Grian made their way over to the paper.

    Grian picked it up, momentarily freezing.

    YES, BUT GRUMBOT DOES NOT WANT TO.

    They continued with one a more question--Grian being a lot more careful than before. This could work, and he did not wanna ruin it.

    "What's the plan?"

    Grumbot got angry.

    GRUMBOT NEEDS BUDGET.

    "We just gave you four diamonds, mate, what--" Mumbo cut himself off.

    Grian swallowed back a cry of happiness. He turned to Mumbo. "What have you created? You've created a robot--an intelligent robot, not only to ask him questions, but he wants more diamonds."

    Mumbo wheezed. "But I suppose--I mean, I--maybe he's--"

    "Look at his hands, those hands are like yeah, I want to hold--like--holding diamonds."

    Glancing between the hands, Mumbo nodded. "It is true. Maybe--Uh, like--mayoral races do actually require quite a lot of funding? I mean, maybe he's saying that we need to provide funding?"

    As they continued to discuss their plans to appease Grumbot, Grian had to shove down the growing bits of unadulterated glee bubbling up inside of him.

    It wouldn't happen again.

——————————

"What's that?" Grian asked, squinting at what stood in Grumbot's right hand. "What's that?"

    "It's a stack of--" Mumbo tried.

    "Is that five--five? I--that's not a stack!"

    "It's seven--" Mumbo wheezed.

    "You said a stack! You just said "that's a stack of diamonds"--that--"

    "That's a stack of diamonds right there, dude!"

After they finished bickering over what was clearly neither a stack of diamonds nor a sufficient budget for anything, they showed off their Mumbo for Mayor t-shirts.

    They, um... They couldn't see Mumbo's. Cause of his pants being so high.

    ("We should also sell a croptop," Mumbo offered as Grian snickered at the thought. "And it just says Mumbo--")

    But, after that was over with, Grian brandished his diamond.

    "Tell us what to do."

    Mumbo repeated it. "Okay, that seems like a--"

    "Tell us what to do," Grian read out. "It's not even a question, just tell us what to do."

    "It's a command. We are now commanding Grumbot."

    Grian popped the diamond into the dropper.

    He primed Grumbot, bootloaded the brian, flooded the mayoral reservoirs, and deposited the question diamond.

    Grumbot's mustache wiggled.

    A paper popped out.

    Grian scooped it up and read it out: "Processing..."

    A book tumbled out from the dropper, Grian backing away before he picked it up.

    "Oh, that was fast!" He snickered.

    "Wait, hang on--" Mumbo looked between the dropper and the book. "Wait, he actually--" He burst into giggles as he said, "He's formulated a long-form answer!"

    "Well, I guess..." Grian reread the paper. "I mean, the paper just says processing, and that's it. Right, what does he say?"

    "He was just kinda working things out," Mumbo agreed as he opened the book.

    Grumbot provided them with what could loosely be called the beginnings of the plan in a book--one of them would build a film studio, and the other a "Grumbot Shop", whatever that was.

    Grian couldn't help but hesitate when Mumbo told him to give Grumbot a voice--he wasn't very good with voices. NPC Grian just had his voice, and RoboGrian just had an automated text-to-speech reader. "Oh, no, no--now you've put me on the spot..."

    Mumbo giggled. "I know! It's scary, isn't it?"

    Grian reviewed the text--all caps, with okay punctuation. "INSTRUCTIONS FOR MY CREATORS--"

    A laugh ripped through his interpretation of Grumbot's voice. "Why does he sound so dark? Why does he sound so scary? Like the Terminator?"

    "It's cause--because he types--" Speaks? No. "--he types in capital letters--that's why!"

    "Okay, fine," Mumbo acquiesced. "Keep it goin'."

INSTRUCTIONS FOR MY CREATORS

CREATOR 1: BUILD A GRUMBOT SHOP

CREATOR 2: BUILD A MINECRAFT FILM STUDIO

    (As if he could be misinterpreted and one of them makes a real life film studio. Of course.)

    "Well, I guess we need to decide who's creator one, and who's creator two..."

In the end, Mumbo ended up making the film studio. He was the one who dealt with that stuff and--while they probably weren't making a documentary--he'd be better at figuring out the equipment they'd need.

    Which left Grian with the shop. Not that he was complaining, mind you--he would have been happy building either. (Although he would have liked a little more detail on why they needed those built, he supposed nothing would have to do. Grumbot wasn't saying anything more.)

    He and Mumbo said their goodbyes and parted ways.

    Grian looked up to Grumbot as Mumbo flew off, no doubt to work on one of his own projects a bit. The edges of his mouth quirked up into a smile.

    It might have been too soon, but...

    It hadn't happened again. He hadn't failed!

  �� Grian laughed openly, jumping and grinning. He looked up at Grumbot, who simply stared down at him. "I didn't fail!" he told him.

    Grumbot remained still.

    Regardless, Grian planted his hands on his hips. "I didn't fail..."

——————————

"We've done what Grumbot's said," Grian started as they prepared to speak to Grumbot once more. "I can see you've built up your film studio, of course--" He gestured to the film studio with an innertube keeping it afloat. "--and I've built up the--the Grumbot shop, or the Jrumbot shop, which is incredibly difficult to say. And now..."

    Grian cast his gaze up to look at Grumbot. "Tell us what to do again."

"We have done what you said."

    Prime Grumbot.

    Bootload the Brian.

    Flood Mayoral Reservoirs.

    Deposit Question Diamond.

    They backed up as soon as the button was pressed, both focused on Grumbot's face.

    "I don't know why I always get really nervous before this," Mumbo worried. "Like, I'm assuming he's not gonna do anything."

    Oh God no Mumbo don't you dare--

   A paper popped out.

    "It's because sometimes he gets angry," Grian dismissed, picking it up. "You never know if he's just gonna smite you."

    Mumbo chuckled. "That's very true--Oh--"

    A book fell to the floor.

    "Oh, another book." Grian skimmed over the paper.

    GRUMBOT IS PROUD OF YOU.

    The words echoed in his head.

    GRUMBOT IS PROUD OF YOU.

    It--He--

    GRUMBOT IS PROUD OF YOU.

    Grian swallowed back a sob of joy.

    "Oh, that is sweet," Mumbo said once Grian told him what it said.

    "That is very cute," Grian agreed. "Grumbot is proud of you."

    Mumbo picked up the book. "Okay, so... but he's--he's given us further instructions, though." He flipped open the book.

GRUMBOT WILL NOW SUPPLY THE PLAN

CREATORS, YOU MUST SELL DIAMONDS (THE BUDGET) FOR SUPPORT ON THE MUMBO FOR MAYOR CAMPAIGN.

    Mumbo looked up. "Sell diamonds...?"

    "Is that for the--is that for the shop--" Grian backed up to look up at Grumbot. "Sorry, wait--" he tried over Mumbo's chuckles. "--that's what the budget's for; we're giving them away?"

    "But selling diamonds, is that..." Mumbo trailed off.

    "That sounds really shady, Grumbot. That sounds really shady."

    Mumbo laughed. "Is he suggesting that we bribe people for support?"

YOU MUST ALSO USE THE STUDIO TO FILM AN ADVERT FOR MUMBO FOR MAYOR.

   "Okay, so we have to make an advert for Mumbo for Mayor. I guess that--" He nodded to the floating film studio.

   "That sounds cool," Grian contributed.

    "I mean, that does make sense. I mean, the film studio does make a lot of sense."

    Grian nodded in agreement.

    Mumbo turned back to the book.

    "I don't know how I feel about selling the diamonds," Grian admitted, "for support. It's a bit weird. But I--er--this piece of paper that says Grumbot is proud of you--I kinda want another one."

    Mumbo turned the page, eyes widening at the words. "Well, things have... he's referred to--he's said "good luck, dads", as well."

    "Oh--" Grian let out a loud laugh, hands shaking. "Has he?!"

    "Yeah!" Mumbo handed him the book, laughing. "So, we've gone from Creators to Dads."

    Grian fumbled with the book, opening it to the second page.

GOOD LUCK DADS.

They eventually came up with the idea to sell mustaches for a diamond block, and to play the advert they had yet to film for two blocks.

    They shaved Mumbo's head, filmed the beginnings of the advert (they could edit later), and headed over to Jrumbot to set up the shop.

    Mumbo had left soon after, stating he needed to get to work on his Industrial District.

    Grian held the book close to his chest as his friend flew off. He opened the book and reread the last three words. "Good luck, dads..." he muttered.

——————————

Grian didn't visit Grumbot alone very often, but when he did, he received... two music discs?

    "Do I have a--I don't have a jukebox--" He frowned at the contents of his ender chest. "--I've got lot of random items that--Mumbo heads in my ender chest!" he interrupted himself with a laugh. "Got Mumbo heads, but no jukebox."

    As he flew off to get a jukebox, he couldn't help but wonder if those discs would have Grumbot speaking to him. Maybe Grumbot had programmed his own voice which--as terrifying as that concept could be--made Grian feel almost giddy with excitement.

    If Grumbot had made his own voice, would it sound more like Grian or Mumbo? Or would it sound like an automated text-to-speech program, like RoboGrian?

    He passed Bdubs and landed in the portal, mind racing with the possibilities.

——————————

Grian soared through the air, intent on confronting Grumbot to tell him his plan wasn't working--how they needed to do something different...

    He landed on the mustache before Grumbot.

    The bobble on Grumbot's head was pink. And Grumbot's face now had a heart on it.

    He hopped down, unsure if the pit in his stomach was fear or anger. "They've rebranded my son!" he cried. "Grumbot, are you okay?! Speak to me, Grumbot!"

    Grian practically yanked a diamond out of his ender chest, rushing over to the anvil.

    "Grumbot are you ok?"

    "I was about to give him a hard time for failing his job!" he said to himself, placing the diamond in the dropper.

    Prime Grumbot.

    Bootload the Brain.

    Flood Mayoral Reservoirs.

    Deposit Question Diamond.

    Grian backed up, staring up at Grumbot's heart face. "Grumbot...?"

    Grumbot's mustache wiggled. His eyes went sad.

    Grian ran over to the paper.

    GET GORGEOUS.

    "What...?" he whispered. He glared over at the GG headquarters, a good ways away from Grumbot. "That's their slogan! No, Grumbot--Mumbo for Mayor! Mumbo for Mayor!"

Grian slammed the diamond into the dropper.

    "Mumbo for mayor!!"

    He pressed the buttons and backed up. "C'mon, Mumbo for Mayor. You can do it--You can do it, Grumbot." He backed up. "Come on, Grumbot..."

    Grumbot's mustache wiggled. His eyes went sad again.

    "He's still sad!" he whispered. Grian grabbed the paper.

    GET GORGEOUS.

    "I think he's stuck on Get Gorgeous..." Grian mumbled.

    One more test proved his theory right.

    "No!" Grian half-whispered, half-whimpered. "We need to fix him... We need to fix him right now."

    He sped around to the back, readying his pickaxe.

    "Okay, Grumbot--we're going in, and we're gonna fix this okay?"

Grian had put on his Mumbo head to go in there, simply because Mumbo had actually managed to create Grumbot in the first place without screwing it up. Unlike Grian.

    "Grumbot are you ok?"

    Prime Grumbot.

    Bootload the Brian.

    Flood Mayoral Reservoirs.

    Deposit Question Diamond.

    A paper popped out. Grumbot's eyes went sad.

    GET GRIAN.

    Grian froze.

    No--

    No, no, no.

    No.

    Not again.

  Grumbot couldn't have meant that, right? He was sad, so he didn't mean that, right? He was not RoboGrian--he wasn't like Grian's other failed projects. He just--He was just glitched! Grumbot was sad when he said it, so he couldn't have meant it!

    Grian shoved another diamond into the dropper and ran for the paper once it landed on the floor. (Did Grumbot's eyes go angry...?)

    GET GRIAN.

    He needed to get Mumbo. Now.

——————————

Grian couldn't help but agree with Mumbo that, while Grumbot had been hacked, he did look quite cute with the heart on his face.

    "I mean, I've tried my best to unhack him," Mumbo offered, "and y'know, I've done the internals and things like that, and... Things seem better."

    "I tried to fix him, too, but I just got him stuck on Get Grian..."

    "Yeah, I--I saw that..."

    "He was stuck on Get Gorgeous--" Grian pointed out, "--so, I got some progress... but don't let me touch this sorta thing ever again."

    Mumbo turned his gaze up at Grumbot. "So, I managed to fix the Get Grian problem, um... I--yeah. It's fixed."

    "Okay." Grian began to make his way over to the control panel. "You don't sound too confident."

    Mumbo protested that he was fixed, but it was also interesting to "see how things would go".

    Grian opened a shulker box and pulled out a bunch of banners, stating how they should probably get rid of the heart before they did anything else. (The bauble on his head was another story, but Grian had brought blocks to fix that, too.)

"There we go," Grian sighed as they backed up. "Lookin' all handsome again."

    "He is looking a lot better."

    "Back to his usual self." Hopefully. "Now, we have to ask him, like, last-minute... pull something out the bag."

    Mumbo chuckled. "Yeah, this is like... forgotten to revise for your test. Doing your homework that morning."

    "Eating breakfast and doing my homework," Grian agreed after pulling a diamond out of his ender chest. "What do I ask him? Uh--"

    "it is vote day, HELP"

    Prime Grumbot.

    Bootload the Brian.

    Flood Mayoral Reservoirs.

    Deposit Question Diamond.

    Grian sprinted over to Mumbo. "Come on, Grumbot, you better pull something out the bag here, because we're, like... following your instructions has made our polls worse."

    "We've not done well," Mumbo agreed.

    Grumbot's mustache wiggled. One of his eyes went sad, the other remaining the way it was before.

    "That doesn't look good at all," Grian offered.

    Then he saw the papers spilling onto the floor.

    A chill went up Grian's spine.

    He and Mumbo picked them up, Grian shuffling through them.

    WHAT IF PEOPLE DON'T LIKE ME?

    WHAT IF I FAIL MY LOVED ONES

    WHAT IS ANGER?

    WHAT IS IT TO FEEL ALIVE?

    WHAT IS AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL?

    "What has..." Grian trailed off.

     it happened again it happened again oh god no it happened again

    "Oh, gosh..." Mumbo muttered.

    WHAT IS THIS FEELING IN MY CHEST?

    "Mumbo..." Grian murmured.

    it happened again he failed again

    WHAT IS MY PURPOSE?

    AM I MORE THAN JUST A ROBOT?

    SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME

    WHAT IS LOVE?

    DOES ANYTHING REALLY MATTER?

    AM I LOVED, OR USED?

    "He's having an existential crisis!" Grian cried.

    WHAT MAKES ME FEEL?

    AM I THE ONLY ONE?

    "What if it was all a dream?" Mumbo read. "Do I have control? Am I good?"

    IS THERE LIFE AFTER DEATH?

    AM I A GOOD PERSON?

    "What if our world is not ours?"

    I I I I I I  REQUIRE BUDGET

    "Oh, no..." Grian whimpered.

    HOW WAS I MADE?

    AM I MORE THAN JUST MY TASK?

    "If I make Mumbo mayor, am I mayor?"

    WHAT IS IT TO FEEL ALIVE?

    "Oh, there's smoke coming out the top of his head!" Mumbo laughed.

    "What?" Grian backed up and looked to the top of Grumbot's head. "Oh, he's officially melted..."

    he failed he failed again he failed he failed he failed

    "Oh, we've melted him."

    Grian dashed over to the papers, intending to pick up a few more. "He's melted."

    he failed again he failed again he failed again he failed again

    "Why must my life make me ache?" Mumbo read. "Jesus..."

    I AM GRUMBOT YET I AM DADS

    "Oh my--" Grian cut himself off.

    GOODBYE DADS

    "He's gone dark," Mumbo said.

    "He's been sending a lot of the same message... They're still comin' out too fast, but has he..."

    "Oh, my goodness--"

    "He's just been saying Goodbye dads..."

    i failed i failed him i failed i failed i did it wrong i was wrong it happened again i failed

    Mumbo wheezed. "Goodbye dads. Oh, dear, this is not... this is not a good situation."

    DOES ANYTHING REALLY MATTER?

    AM I HUMAN?

    I THINK THEREFORE I AM BUT I AM NOT

    "I mean, I've got almost two stacks of Goodbye dads," Mumbo said.

    "I've got one and a half stacks of..." Grian trailed off. "I think we killed him..."

    "Grumbot's gone," Mumbo added. "I mean, he's asking what are all these feelings?"

    "Why is my head hurting?" Grian read numbly.

    "Oh, bless him!" Mumbo said.

    "Are my thoughts just a tool? I am Grumbot yet I am Dads. This is awful!"

    "I know so much, yet so little," Mumbo read. "Are my creators happy for me?"

    "Yes, we are, Grumbot!" Grian cried.

    "Are there others like me?"

    WHAT IS THE END GAME

    WHAT IS IT TO FEEL PAIN?

    "What is love?"

    WHAT IS FREE WILL?

    "Does anything really matter?"

    WHAT IS MINECRAFT.EXE?

    Mumbo burst into giggles. "He's--He's had a full breakdown--"

    WHY WAS I PUT HERE?

    WHAT IS THE MEANING OF EXISTENCE?

    ARE THESE THOUGHTS MINE, OR THEIRS?

    IF MY DADS MADE ME, AM I MY DADS?

    Grian let out a laugh despite himself.

    It happened again.

    The rest of the day was a blur--he remembered laughing (because if he didn't laugh, he'd cry), and joking (because if he didn't joke, he'd scream), and voting (though he couldn't remember who he voted for). But...

    But long after Mumbo left, as Grian forced a smile and continued on...

    The feeling in his stomach seemed to weigh him down. The chill that had gone up his back still made him shiver. He could barely talk without his breath catching on something in his throat.

    It happened again.

——————————

In the end, they built Grumbot his own little virtual reality. Enclosed him in an area where it was always daytime, and always sunny, and had grass and had a little mini mustache headquarters.

    Mumbo dressed up in a mayor suit, and they'd told Grumbot he'd won, though they actually hadn't gotten a single vote.

    Grian forced himself to smile as he and Mumbo talked to Grumbot, a dull ache in his chest.

    After exiting through the back of the box, they made a window up front so they could check in on him every now and again.

    Grian gasped as they checked in through the newly-made window, his eyes landing on Grumbot's expression. "He's so happy!"

    "He's the happiest he's ever been," Mumbo added.

    "He is the happiest Grumbot!"

    Mumbo glanced over at Grian. "I mean, the only emotions he's ever shown is just a deadpan face, angry, or sad. This is the first time he's actually..."

    "This is what he was built for," Grian said. "He was built to make you mayor, and in his world, you are the mayor. You're just gonna have to turn up now and again to just, y'know, show face."

    "I was gonna say, is this..." Mumbo made a vague gesture towards the fake world inside. "I mean, y'know, it's a really, really happy ending, like--he is... He is happy... Are we good people?"

    (AM I A GOOD PERSON?)

    "I think so."

    "Is this a good thing to do?" Mumbo asked.

    "Um..."

    Grian cast a glance back at Grumbot, inside his fake little world. With grass and bamboo and clouds. Inside his own little enclosed space, with...

    With no choice in where he lived, nor how long he stayed there.

    ("BACK TO THE ROOM.")

    But Grumbot was happy. That should count for something, right...?

    ("This is an error. ERROR ERROR ERROR ERROR E̵̞͝R̵̮̍R̴͙̾O̷̗̓R̸̖͠E̴͇͂R̷̗̓Ŕ̴̯O̵̘̔Ŗ̶̀E̸̶̷̥̯̲̊̈̃Ṟ̶̶̵̡͍̓́͗R̷̵̶̙͇͛̕͜O̵̶̵̩͔̎̋͂Ŗ̴̵̷̭̳͇͋̚E̷̵̸̡͓͛͌R̸̴̵̟͈͊̐̎Ȑ̵̴̵̠̝̥͎́Ŏ̵̸̶̼̫̕R̶̵̵̖͎̘͌͆́Ë̵̵̸̻̙̯̊̚R̸̴̶̪̞̬̓̏͐R̶̸̷͙̃̽̎̆͜O̶̷̷̖̼̫͊̇͐͜R̴̵̴̝̼̓̔̾--")

    Grian forced himself not to waver.

    "Yeah."