#we can talk about the fact that they connected over their parents treatment. and then Amy’s mom hit her and then she killed her mom.

[merakiui]

thinking about how the tweels could have used their influence to "buy" you and your time when you were little. they're immature (floyd more so than jade) and when they want something they get it. always spoiled, those eels... their parents dote on them endlessly. birthdays are extravagant events: tables filled with presents and delicious foods alike. of course it's anxiety-inducing for those who come bearing gifts because they're signing agreements and have to hope the gift is received positively, lest they leave a poor impression and papa leech's men show up at their doorstep.

so when the twins find themselves fascinated with you, a mer from their class, they'll do anything to have you.

at first it was simple things. jade would feign crying so the teacher would politely coax ask you to play with him and floyd, as she was too nervous to get on their father's bad side. everyone is. it's a common rule in their neighborhood that no one messes with the leech family, and if you do you disappear. floyd would throw a fit, thrashing and whining, only ever ceasing if you finally agreed to draw with him or play tag with him. they're greedy brats, monopolizing your time and always circling you until, eventually, your friends start to keep their distance.

no one dares to cross the leech family.

but you do. you glare at the twins and snap at them, saying things like, "spoiled brats shouldn't whine in the first place. you already have everything you could ever want, don't you?" or "leave me alone or i'm never playing with you again!" and the twins listen. sometimes. but they like it when you yell, when you get worked up, when you threaten things that mean nothing because all it takes is a word to their father and you'll become their playmate. they plan when they choose to listen and when they don't. if they leave you alone for one day, you can expect them to return the following days, proud with the logic of "since we listened and left you alone, that means you have to do the things we want now."

it gets worse the older you get. school dances are a pain. the twins fight over you like you're food, throwing punches and biting and snarling, wanting to be the only one to take you, unwilling to share. the first time you were dragged brought to the leech residence to meet their parents was a night you'll never forget. their home is huge, a labyrinthine, rocky structure on the outskirts of town. you remember feeling lost the deeper you swam into their home, reminded of complex cave systems at every turn. there are lots of people in the leech home. servants, mostly. jade explains it away so easily, as if this is normal.

everyone greets the leech twins. servants smile, welcome them in such a friendly, polite manner. they give you similar treatment, all of them seeming to know your name. this unsettles you, but then the leech family is aware of everyone. their connections run deep.

their mother adores you, thinks you're the sweetest thing. "so this is the cute mer my boys talk about!" she pinches your cheeks and says you're much too small and that you ought to eat, but your mer species is one of prey. biologically, you'll always be smaller than an eel mer. their father, though his name is known throughout, isn't as scary as you thought. he is initially when he stares you down silently, assessing you while you bow respectfully, so low to the floor it looks like you're begging. it's quiet still and then he laughs, tells you to lift your head, and he introduces himself. he's outgoing and charismatic in a way that shocks you. but then you're not seeing the cutthroat sides of mr. leech.

that night was a whirlwind. you ate dinner and watched the leech family chat in their natural habitat, witnessing just how similar they all are. jade takes after his mother more, whimsically sharp and sly. floyd is like his old man. in fact, you thought they were rather close in body structure. floyd's definitely going to grow much bigger. so is jade, but then you suspect floyd will have more muscle. bulkier. jade, you think, will remain lean and agile, strong in a silent, less noticeable way.

they have someone come in to dress you and the twins for prom before it comes time to set off. you can't begin to imagine how expensive all of the accessories are, and you're told you can keep them. it would feel like a plot from a romance novel if it weren't forced. their parents take lots of pictures, fawning over you with happy smiles, wishing the three of you a fun, happy night.

the twins take you to every yearly dance that follows, all the way up to graduation. you've tried to say no, but it's pointless to do so. one word to their father and your parents will sit you down and gently beg you to listen. to just say yes. you can't entertain the thought of going with another mer either. the twins will hound them, force them to give you up, scare them so good they'll never swim near you again.

so when they're old enough and they propose, you have to say yes. because it's the twins and they always get what they want in the end. because they've always had you in their palms from the moment they met you. because they'll fight off every possible suitor bold enough to steal you away, gruesome and cruel, monstrously possessive.

because, most of all, no one messes with the leech family, and so your wedding will be yet another spoiled, extravagant event. the ring on your finger is more than an oath of marriage. it's a claim being staked. a little collar. a reminder that you have always been and will always be theirs.

and there's no room for arguing that truth.

#meraki mumbles #yandere twst

[scientia-rex]

Hysteria isn't a fucking thing

ok fun fact: I'm rapidly becoming a cult favorite doctor among our local privileged elderly white ladies, which I have mixed feelings about, but the #1 reason is that I just don't leap to "anxiety" as an explanation for symptoms unless the patient tells me "I am anxious, and then I feel these symptoms, and when I am not anxious, I don't feel these symptoms."

The sheer number of women I've seen who've been told for years to decades that the only thing wrong with them is anxiety is fucking staggering, in this Year Of Our Lord 2023, and I just keep digging. We checked a basic lab panel, sure. CBC. No anemia. CMP. Kidneys are fine. (Electrolytes are basically always going to be fine if someone is well enough to walk into my office under their own power to talk to me. Exception is mild chronic hyponatremia.) And we check thyroid. TSH and free T4. We check blood sugar. A1c, if the fasting is a little weird. Fasting insulin, if I'm still suspicious. We check cortisol. Inflammatory markers--ESR and CRP.

And eventually, if the symptoms support it, or right away, depending on my level of suspicion, we check rheumatological labs for abnormal autoimmune function. Anti-nuclear antibody. Rheumatoid factor. There's at least a dozen you can check, and which ones you should check is always a matter of debate and also of expertise that I 100% lack. We are out in the sticks. There are no "local" rheumatologists for me to send people to.

But a couple of weeks ago I found a woman--she has bipolar disorder and has been told for decades that's all that's wrong with her--who has an anti-centromere antibody titer that's fucking through the roof. I found an anxious 19-year-old with an ANA of 1:1380. And yesterday I found out why a sweet elderly woman I've seen for a year or two now started feeling crappy months ago: her rheumatoid factor is over 90.

Rheumatological disorders are always difficult. Our understanding of them varies from "pretty good, actually, and here are useful treatments" to "Well I Guess That Exists." Labs aren't always a slam-dunk and even labs plus symptoms can give you misleading impressions. Your immune system can decide that virtually any short chunk of protein is an enemy, and the problem with that is that your body is made up of many, many, many short chunks of proteins, so the odds that you'll develop some kind of antibody against yourself just keeps going up over your lifetime. Immune disorders tend to travel in packs; there's a clear genetic element to it, so the more first-degree relatives (parent, sibling, child) you have with any kind of autoimmune disorder (including Type 1 diabetes), the higher your risk of any kind of autoimmune disorder is, and if you already have one autoimmune disorder, you're at higher risk for developing another one.

But I think it's precisely because they're difficult that a lot of mainstream primary care prefers to pretend they don't exist, rather than try to sift through the utter fucking mess that is Mixed Connective Tissue Disorders, a title that has fallen out of favor since I learned it in my third year of med school. And women are at higher risk for autoimmune disorders than men. And older women are at higher risk than younger women.

So if I, as a family doc, just keep digging, just keep poking at the tangled knot of symptoms, there's a decent chance I will uncover something interesting. Hopefully something treatable. Sometimes we have nothing to treat with, and I just get to offer someone more understanding of their disorder, which feels pretty paltry but is better than the casual dismissal of "You're just anxious."

Never, ever, ever take anxiety as a diagnosis for a symptom other than anxiety. Not even as a rule-out. Keep those symptoms as an open question mark on the patient. Don't say "anxiety" just so you can close the door. And damn sure don't do it to women.

I'm actively working on learning more so I can be more helpful, in our Rheum-less community, so if you have good lectures or books, please drop me a lead.

#the attending dr. kristophine

[icarusxxrising]

// long ramble TLDR just me discussing how I found my politics at the beginning

When I was a baby leftist the final push for me into anarchism wasn't when I learned what anarchy actually was, it was 1 event leading to a culmination of recognizing one of the biggest problems in social and economic systems was people having power over each other.

When I first got into leftism there was nothing on Anarchism when I tried to lookup "beginner leftist books". It was The Communist Manifesto, State and Revolution, The ABCs of Socialism, etc. Nothing about Anarchism though.

I tried to connect to Communism through reading and content creators but it couldn't stick for me. Not to say I'm not a communist now but my communism is different, and more inherent to my Anarchism. A lot of communist creators I watched talk were very intelligent on the system and helped me realize some positives, but they never could talk about the negatives of past communist ideologies.

When people addressed genuinely negative things that communist regimes did, like their treatment of disabled people or the genocide campaigns, they responded with facts about literacy rates going up. Obviously something like literacy rates going up IS a positive that should be addressed, but they could never just say "Yeah that was fucked up, we don't condone that bullshit, here's how we are going to stop that from happening". (Hell a ton of communists idolize and have pfps of some of the dudes that did horrible shit).

Even if I disagree I'll respect a communist who will say "These regimes did xyz fucked up shit, We can do better and learn from this fucked up shit tho", and I have met some that do that, but I couldn't click into the communism being fed to me because it once again felt like blind worship and just redoing the past rather than striving for something that would fit our modern society.

Ironically the first time I thought "Power corrupts people always" was when I found out TST founders were gross and Fascistic. I was getting into Satanism and was excited by the idea of TST fighting for religious freedoms within the system (lib moment), and how they were gay friendly and had posts about respecting lgbt ppl unlike COS who just said summarized "who cares what you feel about them as long as no one tells you you can't do that :)".

But when I found out about Queer Satanic and actually dove into the history of TST it was kinda this Camel Straw moment. I was angry I had supported a shitty organization and I was angry that something that could be good was controlled by shitty people who could just do fuck all bc they had power. It made me realize that as long as there was a person in power over others that there would be problems. It made me think of my childhood and how when parents have complete authority over their children it causes harm more often than not just by the nature of Exploitation that comes with holding power.

I didn't know what Anarchism was yet or that it was a real leftist ideology, I just thought it meant Chaos and Warmonger, but I took the steps into it without knowing just from the realization I had.

When I did find out about Anarchism it clicked for me. A style of communism and workers unions that won't hold power over individuals. And then I just began to learn more and it makes sense for me. It doesn't matter how many times other people told me it was unrealistic, my brain can conceive Anarchism better than systems that call for few people to hold power over entire populations.

Too be fair, I've always had anarchistic tendencies growing up, but once I found it the pieces just fell into place.

* This isn't for debating if you come into my comments with some USSR bullshit I'll just tell you to walk somewhere dangerous and block you *

#leftist #anarchy #leftism #anarchism #anarchist #socialism #socialist #communist #communism #theory #satanism #tst #queer satanic

[marvel-starwarsfangirl]

Bad Batch Chopping Block

(some spoilers, tread carefully)

Alright, the safety net is gone. Even though Pabu still stands, it will never be safe for Omega or the boys anymore. The Empire has truly closed them in from every direction. So, who's gonna make it out of this season? Just to get this out of the way, Tech is either dead or comes back. The Tech Debate is too big to tackle here.

Definitely dead:

Echo- I think he's 100% a goner. Aside from being a strong mentor figure to Omega, Echo is gonna be a martyr for his cause. He believes so strongly in his fight for clone justice and he will follow it to the grave. I can definitely see him going out in a blaze of glory while Rex watches hopelessly. Plus, Echo dying might be the reason for Rex to retire and turn to Joopa farm. Echo is the last true connection he has to his old life and the 501st. Echo also gave Omega a new weapon which doesn't bode well for him. A gift he gave her is something she can remember him by.

Most likely dead:

Hunter- I do have some hope for him. There is a chance that writers don't kill him off because they want to finish the show with all the boys together. But sadly, that is unlikely. Hunter is the mentor figure and the first real paternal figure to Omega. As the oldest of the Batch (minus Echo), he has a responsibility to watch over them. In season 3, we see Crosshair slowly learning to take over as Omega's parental figure. It's possible that Hunter will die, as many mentor figures have before him, and Cross will carry the torch. I can definitely see that happening. Hunter dies protecting Omega and Crosshair is left to pick up the pieces

Wrecker- sweet Wrecker is too dang lovable. Unlike the others, he doesn't fit as neatly into a trope category like Crosshair and Hunter. Therefore, he could honestly survive because of that. However, I definitely think he could go out in a blaze of glory as well, something akin to Hevy or Hardcase. Imagine Wrecker getting caught in an explosion as he stays behind to save his brothers and Omega? But at the same time, I don't want it to happen.

50/50 (but most likely fine):

Crosshair- I honestly think he might make it out this season mostly in one piece. The only trope he fits right now is redemption equals death and honestly, I think we're past that point. Crosshair already began his redemption arc. He saved Omega, reconciled with his brothers, reconciled with Howzer, admitted his wrongs, and genuinely wants to be a better person. He doesn't need to prove to his family that he loves them or has changed because we see that. His brothers see that. Even his new poster shows him looking at his helmet. He has found the light. It's possible this show ends with him leaving his old life to retire with Omega. He could still die protecting her, but I'm starting to think otherwise.

Crosshair has suffered so much since this show started. I made a list, but we could be here all day talking about it. I feel like it would be overkill (literally) to just kill him off after he's come so far. Also, the fact that he is getting the Dad Batch ™ treatment means that they could be propping him up to take over the role from Hunter. That or they're speed-running Crosshair's dad mode activation because he was MIA for two seasons. Honestly, I think Crosshair narrative wise is mostly safe because his redemption arc is playing out right now instead of later down the line. His arc right now is mostly about coming to terms with himself, his trauma, and his identity as a sharpshooter and soldier. I really think that this show will end with him hanging up the helmet and raising Omega.

Fine:

Omega- let's be honest, they're not gonna kill off our sweet bean. She was been our focal character since the beginning and I can't see the writers going this dark. She's safe!

Alternatively: the Batch all live plus or minus one of them. The final episode could be all of them charging in together for one final fight. They make it out (mostly) and retire with Omega. Boom, the end.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech

[curiousitycollective]

thinking about that post about how the line between non-psychotic and psychotic is very thin and how it mentioned ocd and god that's something that we don't see talked about nearly enough

we are pyschotic and have ocd and i don't think people realize how close those two experiences are. honestly in our opinion its there isn't actually a line so much as a gradient between them where how you identify and how other people perceive you is often just as much about individual experiences and biases as what's happening in your brain

tw for vauge but possibly unsettling descriptions of ocd/psychosis from someone with both

you see visions of horrible things in detail and the only way to stop those things from happening and you seeing is a specific ritual. am i talking about hallucinations and delusions or intrusive thoughts and compulsions?

you brain constantly tells you over and over that everyone around you hates you and shows you how. paranoia or socially focussed intrusive thoughts?

if you ever step on a crack you know that someone you love will be hurt in a horrific way, so you carefully walk on the grass as much as you can and sometimes just won't leave your house because of the risk. delusions or intrusive thoughts leading to related compulsions?

actual answer for all of them, either or both because these aren't hard and fast categories and there can be a lot of overlap*

a large part of the reason we don't have a diagnosis for schizophrenia is because for years our delusions were thought to be part of our intrusive thoughts + compulsions, and the only reason we can say we have delusions for sure is because we have some that don't fit into the pattern seen with ocd**

and yet i don't think i have ever really seen anyone talk about that before. people talk about the similarities between adhd and autism but that was the first time i've seen anyone even mention the connection between ocd and psychosis.

this is already long enough, we'll say we hope that more people talk about this and that there's more talk about the similarities between psychosis and other experiences.

and we've chopped out a bunch of tangents that are now under the cut for the sake of people's dash

-smile/wren

*fun fact treatment for ocd often involves acceptance of the intrusive thoughts, for us our love of horror was actually encouraged because it helped act as exposure therapy for graphic intrusive thoughts by giving that type of content a positive association.

yes this means we read and watched adult horror books and movies as a preteen. it was actually encouraged and supported by our therapist and parents and it greatly helped in dealing with our ocd

this is also the same approach that can be taken to help manage psychotic symptoms. i (smile) identify as an endel because being able to have my somatic delusion(s) be part of our identity greatly reduced the distress it causes.

**we have somatic delusions which aren't seen with intrusive thoughts as well as delusions that could be intrusive thoughts but that don't have associated compulsions, and while not all intrusive thoughts have compulsions the specific way our brain works and other contextual stuff such as content: these are religious, all of our other intrusive thoughts are violence/gore/death in horrible ways stuff and pretty similar in the focus; and the fact that these are usually present tense (this is a thing that is true now) thing over future possibility thing (this will be true if you don't stop it) makes us sort these into delusions.

#actually ocd #psychosis #pseriouslypsychosis #collective chatter #accounts and narratives #dyspunktional

[julianalvarez9]

*:･ﾟ✧CHRISTIAN PULISIC MASTERLIST✧･ﾟ:*

updated: 16/06/2023

can't choose

instagram au, ft mason mount

When a group consists of 3 people it's kinda... complicated to choose how to spend your time, to say the least.

whipped

Christian only wants cuddles and attention when he returns home after an away game.

you over anyone

mount!reader

Being Mason's twin, it's only right that you are quite close to Christian too, much to his new girlfriend dislike.

we need to talk

You ended up hearing something you wish you never did. Maybe you shouldn't have been eavesdropping, or maybe you should have addressed the situation before it got until this point.

someday

After seeing you and his niece peacefully sharing a moment together, he starts to doubt whether he had been lying to himself about his feelings for you.

saw her first

bf!christian, bff!mason

Things get a little heated when your best friend starts rambling about his awful day and he feels like you aren't paying attention to him.

firsts

actress!reader

A journey of first times with your boyfriend Christian, while navigating your private but not secret couple.

you are in love

The four times he wants to say that he loves you, and the one time he finally does.

love's dead

social media au

Christian and you announce your breakup online, and Twitter mourns the loss of your relationship.

pick a side

x arsenal!reader, ft martin ødegaard

You don't think that knowing Christian since your childhood could jeopardize your stay at Arsenal, and above all, your new situationship with Martin. But it does.

supporting you

social media au, arsenal!reader

Although your love for the red team is very noticeable -a fact that doesn't slip from anyone's mind, your relationship with Christian remains strong because above all, you're always supporting him.

something unholy

smut

When you realize this friends with benefits relationship you had going on with him is hurting you more than its benefitting, you cut contact. When Christian realizes, six months later, that the only thing missing from the celebrations after winning the CONCACAF, is you, knocking on your door is the only answer.

fluff

the golf club

social media au

As a professional golfer, life can get kinda hectic, making you forget about your side hobbie, posting youtube videos. It's only right that the comeback is a video that no one really waits.

jupiter's diary

You're a YouTuber, vlogging your little getaway to the States to visit Christian's family, when you decide to reveal the news on your last day in Florida.

series

favour gone wrong

focus (pt 1)

you had brought christian, a friend, home to your parents due to your sister's wedding, hoping to stop the questions about your love life. you didn't think how hard it would be to make them believe your lies.

unfocused (pt 2)

tension grows impossibly heavy after your back and forth banter with christian. dinner's over now, so it's time to go to sleep. or is it?

miscommunication (ft enzo fernandez)

part one

christian and you had a special connection. some could say, relationship. what happens when enzo arrives to the club, and starts taking your focus out of him.

part two

the silent treatment continues. two certain players try to bring you back to your senses, but you’re still not convinced. maybe you need to talk to certain american to clear it all to you.

part three

soon!

break up and make up

war is on

| social media au

it seems like christian and you have called it quits. althought the reasons remain unknown to the public, speculation arises because of it.

battlefield

the backstory of what went wrong between christian and you which prompted your breakup. or, how the living room where you two used to live turned into a battlefield.

the fix up

you're back in london, right after christian gets injured. he can't help but call you again when you're all he needs.

war is over

| social media au

thanks to mason, the fans know you're back in london, and rumors start to spread.

#christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic x y/n

[thyandrawrites]

I think what many people don’t realize with the Dabi vs Shouto fight is that it’s not actually a brother vs brother fight.

Biologically yes. They have the same parents.

But being bothers is more than that. Touya and Shouto Todoroki don’t know each other. They never had the opportunities to form any sibling bond. That’s why they can only see each other but their titles of villain and hero.

mmh, I don't know if I can agree 100% with this reading. On the one hand, it's true that they don't know each other, and that's largely why they don't understand each other's motivations and goals. Like, Touya misinterprets Shouto as someone who's blindly following Endvr's footsteps because Touya wasn't there to see that distancing himself from his father's shadow was a huge part of Shouto's personal journey. And Shouto in turn misinterprets Touya as someone who's blindly using violence and blaming their dad to escape the consequences of his actions because he never saw Touya fight ever since he was a child for Enji to acknowledge his flaws as a father. Thus, he doesn't get that Touya is doing this as a mean to get accountability and justice. So yes, they lack a relationship as brothers that would give them both the right context through which to contextualize the other's actions, and the compassion needed to put themselves in each other's shoes.

But on the other hand, I don't think it's possible to talk about their conflict while subtracting the fact that they're brothers from the equation. Imho you can trace back their respective worldviews, identities and yes, even the way they think of each other back to the theme of family, and the dysfunctional patterns they grew up tangled in (and replicating). There's no Dabi the villain without the role Shouto played as a replacement who "stole" his life, and there's no Shouto The Non-violent Hero without the weaponized memory of his brother used to justify Enji's increased and ruthless abuse over the years. They are both the worst thing that happened to each other because Enji's shitty parenting made them out to be that (though it's not true. In reality they are both just victims who had no active part in the other's suffering). Yet, Shouto's perception of Touya is colored by the family's treatment of his brother and vice versa, because Enji specifically used them as tools to lessen the weight of his own actions.

So for example we see Shouto perpetrating the scapegoating rampant in the house by seeing Touya as "the crime" of the family that needs "stopping",

and Touya perpetrating the idea of Shouto as the golden child by seeing him as a kind and good-hearted hero who makes Enji proud:

But the thing is, both of those views echo their parents' perspective on what their respective roles should be. This is most obvious through Shouto, whom they outright address as the family's little hero:

But it's also apparent in how they talk about Touya. Enji sees Dabi as a criminal that's the manifestation of his "sins" who "stole so many futures"; Rei sees him as someone on whose behalf to apologize to Hawks, with the implicit idea that Dabi is more wrong for burning him than Hawks is for murdering a man in cold blood. Both see him as the bad sheep of the family as much as they see Shouto as the perfect idealized good kid.

So imho you cannot fully comprehend them as heroes and villains without tracing back their current beliefs and their views of each other to their connection as brothers and children in a fucked up family. They were pitted against each other since basically birth, and I think their current conflict reflects the flaws of their upbringing more than it does the failures of the hero/villain system, though I think the ideas are definitely connected

#ali replies #bnha #bnha spoilers #my post #dabi #shouto #meta:dabi #meta:todoroki

[artsymusician70]

Okay since Tumblr is the place for this, I’m going to analyze Obake’s character

Obake, or Bob Aken, was a brilliant young boy who got his brain messed up at the age of 12 or 13- because of this he mind slowly started to lose sight of what was considered right and what was wrong- but this was just a summary of what we already know-

Obake is in like- his 40’s during the time of Big Hero 6 The Series, meaning he’s spent more than 3 decades completely alone

Not only is his brain deteriorating his sense of morals, but he also lacks basic human companionship. Sure he’s spoken to people for business, but that doesn’t beat real human companionship

This is why he lost to Hiro

Obake never understood what it’s like to have people by your side no matter what, someone who cares so much about you they would protect you. Hiro did. Hiro had people he could rely on, and that’s why he didn’t turn out like Obake.

Hiro got close, if we all remember this part of the movie 😬😬😬

But the reason Hiro didn’t was because his friends where there to stop him and help him. Obake never got the treatment Hiro got where people would stop him if he was in over his head.

Obake never had any friends, probably not even parents. He expressed little to no empathy when Hiro showed concern for Aunt Cass. His only response being:

Personally, I believe this is his temporal junction amplifying a problem of understanding he has towards concern like that. I do not believe he’s ever felt a familial bond. Either he had no family, or moved far away as a transfer student and never looked back.

And not to mention his accident got covered up, and afterwards he was forgotten.

Obake’s big idea is immortalizing himself and making a city where people like him can grow and learn. Due to his temporal lobe being untreated for 30 years, he didn’t care who died in the process(unless you’re Hiro).

But when you look at it in another light, Obake was afraid of dying alone, forgotten, and a failure. He laments about this in the Finale when his plan fails.

(This was the only gif I could find of it)

This is a depressed lonely man who’s mind has spend years changing for the worst, so much so he doesn’t even see anything that he did potentially wrong until it fails. In his mind: as long as it goes right, he is right.

However, he does make attempts to connect with people, just not to the full extent. He does crave to engage in conversation and to connect with another, however he prefers someone who is at “his level” otherwise he gets annoyed easy.

He doesn’t hate conversations, just ones he considers “annoying”. (Don’t give this man a toddler PLEASE)

But when it comes to Hiro. Obake sees him in a higher light because of how scarily similar he is to himself at a young age.

He greatly misunderstood Hiro’s moral limits to being “leashed” or “held back”. And this is due to the fact he was practically raised by Granville before she understood the importance of limits. Therefore his young mind would grow up being taught that this was fact, and he considers his “success” proof of how Hiro is wrong and he was right.

He wants to give him the same “freedom” he has. He sees Hiro as a version of himself that can finally succeed when he was supposed to. He wants to give Hiro what he thinks he never had: proper guidance.

But this all falls back to the facts that Obake doesn’t understand how important and special it feels to have friends, family and loved ones.

I believe that Hiro was the closest thing Obake felt to a close bond. And I’m talking about Obake personally, there was little to no bonding between the two besides kidnapping and gaslighting.

Obake showed genuine hurt and misunderstanding when Hiro rebelled against him and stopped his plan. He was genuinely hoping he would get a chance to teach, and potentially even parent the boy in his own twisted way.

Hiro was the one thing he didn’t plan on in his grand scheme, but when he came along, he was more than happy to allow another survivor. One he saw would grow up to have everything he felt he never had

But Obake was looking at the wrong place.

Also a little side detail I thought was sad-

The moment Obake is approached with help, he pushes himself away from it. This is either him overall denying help from anyone, or accepting that he deserves nothing.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk Artsy OUT

#bh6 #bh6 obake #bh6 the series #big hero 6 #big hero six #obake #IM SAD HE’S DEAD I MISS HIM SM #THEY INTENDED TO KILL HIM THIS ISNT FAIRRRRR

[soullikethesea]

Welp. I tried a phone session and it did nooot go well. Poor T.

We were off to a great start, because she actually finally got to reading the book excerpt from A Closed and Common Orbit. (I sent it over a month ago, but there were also holidays and such).

It did feel helpful and connected when we discussed that.

It went downhill when I shared about some triggering things this week and I basically saw time slipping away while we weren't getting anywhere. I started to get pretty upset and little things affected me a lot at that point. T said some things about using the body in therapy and trusting that you already have all of the ingredients for healing (which pissed me off... not sure why).

She kept talking about it all really abstractly and I think I just really wasn't getting what I needed. Nothing to hold on to. Just theory. It made me feel like she doesn't understand what she is doing, not reaaaally. Otherwise I would expect you can explain it in more concrete terms.

Then there was also the thing where she exaggerates everything I say. She acknowledged it and says it is what many clients need and she can't just turn it off, but she is trying to turn it down. I really respect that.

I'm just also really angry and irrational atm. Maybe it's the still being ill thing. I just don't have the patience for taking care of her and guiding my own treatment. :(

I'm sure I'll take a deep breath and have some more nights of sleep and then I'll be fine. But for now: fuck this shit!!! Fuck not being able to tolerate stupid memories. Fuck them still affecting me. Fuck my parents for sometimes actually doing pretty evil things. Fuck not having normal relationships with my siblings. Fuck being scared of every little interaction at work. Fuck needing to guide your own therapy. I feel like you should be free to do that, but you shouldn't HAVE to do that and I know for a fact that other clients don't have to. For them T IS able to show up and fuck that as well. It's unfair and I know it's useless to be upset about unfair things, but fuck that as well.

[donnerpartyofone]

I used to be the kind of girl who bragged about "getting along better with boys", but it didn't actually mean I didn't have female friends; in reality I had a whole history of female "best friends" who completely dominated my life through relentless abusiveness. There's a whole Freudian extraction to be made out of this involving the fact that my mother kind of hated me from a very early age, but anyway I'm thinking of the older girl who was my "best friend" from ages 12-14 or so who probably affected my emotional development more than I'd rather admit. Despite spending hours of almost every single day with me, she made an absolute career out of telling me how ugly and stupid I was. She definitely was not as intelligent as I was but she treated me like some unworthy intern who she was being really generous with, and she was excruciatingly specific about how disgusting my face and body were. I wasn't an attractive kid; when you're attractive people tend to let you know it, so I'm just being realistic here, but I couldn't have been half the morlock she convinced me I was or other people would REALLY have let me know it. My favorite insult of hers that I still recall was, "You look like you're made out of all the wrong parts." This was connected to my appearance at a marching band performance--my parents forced me to do extracurriculars all the time because it was the only way to stop me from hiding in my room until I starved to death I guess--so there was an extra cruel subtext of "you looked really ugly specifically when you could not avoid being put on display in public". I never protested any of this treatment because I felt that it was all statements of fact, which I thought negated their meanness. Actually this was contributing to my burgeoning profound belief that people who were openly insulting to me were "honest," so therefore I could trust them more than people who were nice to me, and you can imagine how much trouble this got me into for the next 15-20 years or so. Anyway, through this girl I eventually met my next "best friend", who turned out to be so evil and disturbed that im still getting over what happened, but anyway we basically ran off together and left Girl 1 behind. When I stopped talking to her it drove her nuts, even though I was supposedly the dumbest ugliest most embarrassing person alive, and she finally sent me this sappy letter about how she felt like she was screaming and pounding on a sheet of glass as I slowly walked away, deaf and blind to her pain. Years later I got a package in the mail from her and her meth-addicted girlfriend (a much kinder and more attractive specimen who was sadly riddled with eating disorders that my ex-friend was cultivating in her, I learned); it was a message in a bottle that had been written in colored pencil or crayon, that was supposed to be like a SPELL against me for being a "psychic vampire" that was meant to "bind me from harming" other people. I walked it out to the edge of the woods and threw it off a cliff. But meanwhile I met this other girl one day who I described all of this to--the sheet of glass letter was fresh at the time, and when I quoted it, the new girl goes, "Wow, that's really beautiful, I have to remember that line," and I was like.........WOMAN HAVE YOU LISTENED TO A DAMN THING I SAID???

[memurfevur-archive]

Who’s Kazz? He sounds fun!

HES MY BABY BOI MY SON i dont have any images of him sadly but HE

cw: parent death, toxic parent relationships, religious trauma

Kazz grew up in a deeply religious and mildly loving family. He wasn't the most religious then and was a bit of a rebellious teenager after realizing Christianity wasn't for him, but constantly got thrown at him accusations of "you've changed, you used to be so nice, so good, etc etc" to the very point that he tried to become what others wanted him to be, in order to please. What's the point in having a family mad at you all the time? And what's the point in having friends if you make everyone uncertain anyway? So he became whatever was needed to get people off his back.

Though this included becoming all sorts of characters, even though who aren't a good influence. After following some delinquents' leads, he himself got caught and sent to detention after school, of which his mother had to pick him up from.

Now, his mother was the most stable connection he had in his life. She was very loving and kind, and was more patient with him than his father ever was. But of course, to her God was also a larger, more patient love, and Kazz had to endure a lecture about disappointment and God's grace, etc. This.. happened at a terrible time, because someone else had ran a stop sign and had crashed into their car. Kazz came out with some injuries, but his mother did not survive the crash at all. The incident forced into him the fear of God, and he began blaming himself for her death. Unfortunately his dad did, too, and became very abusive towards him physically and mentally. Life did not get better after this for a very long time, until someone at school reported seeing nasty bruises and marks on Kazz.

He was then given to his older sister, Kyli, to raise, who then would become the equivalent of a Homestuck Guardian. He didn't have the best relationship with his sister either; she was gone a lot because of work, and when she was home it almost felt like resentment. She wasn't really ready to take someone else into her home and care for them, and though she did try it wasn't a great place for either of them emotionally. But they could at least bond over their parents respective treatment towards themselves.

The thing is with Kazz, though, is that he became scared and paranoid. That God might be watching and if Kazz did something bad then He would punish him again. If Kazz didn't do what others want or expect of him, he feared divine punishment. He was constantly bringing himself down, because on top of this he was a budding gay, and thus a projected a lot of outside hatred onto himself. Any change in anyone's facial expression had him on edge, any kind of raised voice would overwhelm him, and though he would pray for forgiveness and protection from threats nonexistent, he would feel empty inside with each prayer given.

Now, that's his backstory, but that's not all he is. He's a nerd! He loves the Transformers franchise and roots for the Decepticons-- in fact the symbol on his shirt is an off-brand Decepticon symbol lol. He enjoys music, can play the guitar, and enjoys open world mmorpg games such as World of Warcraft, Genshin Impact, or Toram. And dinosaurs. He freaking loves dinosaurs. It reminds him of someone special that he no longer gets to talk to much.

In general he's a very kind and nervous kid, trying to please everyone or else be punished for not being good enough. He usually keeps to himself in his spare time, drawing, playing music, or gaming.

I made him years ago when I first started high school and he became one of my favorite Homestuck OCs. I don't use him any more because he was deeply tied with an ex's OC and though still friends we don't really talk as often now.

#mun asks #i love him ok #i know his backstory might sound a lil cringe #and typical #but #i projected onto him for a time so he has a special place in my heart

[sarahpen]

My Interval Memories: A Reflection Essay from the film ”Prayers for Bobby” by Sarah Joy Glorioso

A child could only form the idea of love from what they are exposed to. A distinct memory of their parents’ relationship may spark that thought. We received different kinds of love when we were young, developing different responses as we grow. Some may have matured into giving gifts to show theirbaffection, while some may lean towards spending some quality time with loved ones. Whilst in the process of learning how to love another individual, we are also being opened to the consequences that come with it. Consequences that would make you feel weak, out of control, insane, and sometimes even lost, lost in the world that the both of you have built over time. Love requires sacrifice, it requires a strong connection to assure that the relationship would last.

Prayers for Bobby is about Bobby Griffith, a young man living in a small town in the US during the early ’80s. It’s a time when the AIDS epidemic is just beginning, and the belief in homosexuality. In this story, I just wanted to say how I’m glad his story, as tragic and sad as it is. It is being shared and supported with the world. And he seems like a genuine, sympathetic guy, and after watching the movie, I feel so much sadness for other Bobbys out there-Bobby with religious, ignorant parents and doesn’t put love first. Then now, as I’ve done watching it, I cried a few times. Not only did the movie bring about so much emotion in me, but It kinda reminded some of my beautiful gay friends. They are so wonderful, and they gave me a colorful light that gained so many treasured moments. As I reflect on the 5 stages of grief; I will start with DENIAL, In this stage, I kinda relate to its definition. Because in my state, I’m always naughty to my parents. If they were gonna argue with me, I let myself set aside and lock myself in my room, I don’t want to listen to all of their shouting. Then, in the movie, Bobby and his/her Mom argue, then Bobby wants to proclaim that he is gay. But his/her Mom can’t accept the fact of what Bobby confesses. Then the second stage is ANGER. Here I’m kinda related to the stage of anger because all day I always get irritated, annoyed, and I also have anger issues but can cure them by playing Call of Duty: Mobile. By the way, I want to call Bobby a “her” from now on, because I want her to be a girl, and I want her to be, even though she is now in heaven. Moving on to the topic, In the movie, her mother argued with each other, and they began not to talk, so basically, they have a certain kind of anger from both of them. Then the third stage is BARGAINING. At this stage, it is like taking an agreement of some sort. In the movie, Bobby is now challenging herself to her problems, but he can’t handle them little by little. To be honest, I can’t relate to the said stage because, these days, I’m happy and free. I don’t have a problem. The second to the last stage is DEPRESSION, here, many teenagers are experiencing this. And in the movie, Bobby now has depression. She can’t handle her problems anymore, so she decides to take suicide. In my state, I don’t want that kind of mindset. Because we’re just kids. We don’t have jobs yet, and we don’t have any academic titles yet. So Why? Be careful what we set our plans for. Lastly, the last stage is ACCEPTANCE because, in the story, Bobby’s Mom accepts her gay son, so she decides to join an LGBT program to support LGBT individuals. In my circumstances, my Mom and I have an acceptance to one another which is a good thing, because I’m lucky to have a mother who accepts what I am. She accepts me even though I’m not that girlish kind of a girl.

Throughout the film, I also remember thinking about how much better society (or at least Western culture, to some extent) has gotten since the ’80s in terms of recognizing gays and lesbians and their attitudes and treatment towards the minority. It saddens me when I think about how there are still kids, teens, even youth who are struggling with this, who may contemplate suicide because of their parents. It reminded me that people are still going through that today. I wish they weren’t; I wish people could just be who they are without fear, without consequence. I wish those people, those young boys, and girls everywhere, the strength to get through it–strength that one day, they might be looking back on those days, feeling not an ounce of regret. I wish for those people not to give up trying. Not to ever give up trying. Let us cherish our interval memories because we gained them and treasured them, let ourselves be free.

[mentalhealthawarenss]

Using Trauma-Informed Care in Mental Health Treatment

Anxiety and depression are currently being discussed without the inclusion of emotional awareness. Many cases of anxiety and depression are now being understood to be symptoms of underlying, unresolved emotions and unmet needs. More education about emotions and trauma could prevent these symptoms and the use of ineffective treatments to address them.

What Do We Mean When We Talk About Emotions?

Emotions are biological in the sense that they are as much a part of our bodies as they are of our brains, and they have developed to serve certain purposes in our lives. Anger, sadness, fear, joy, disgust, exhilaration, and sexual exhilaration are said to be among the seven "fundamental" emotions hard-wired into our neural systems.

We can only experience these feelings for a short time until they naturally go away, like a wave, when we allow ourselves to feel them (without acting on them).

Anxiety, remorse, and shame are examples of "inhibitory" emotions.

When one's true feelings clash with what others want, these emotions are meant to obstruct them (like our parents, peers, and partners).

The mother of a three-year-old named Betsy, 40-year-old Lauren, was raised in a family where there was much violence. As a result, Lauren developed a deep aversion to the basic feeling of rage and learned to suppress both her own and Betsy's out of fear.

Lauren screamed at Betsy, "Don't EVER TALK TO MOMMY THAT WAY!!" when she started to show her annoyance at a toy being taken away. It was a shock to Betsy when she heard a loud bang.

Being unable to express or receive validation from her parents early on in her life, Betsy developed the ability to control her anger through the use of muscular contraction and breath holding as the years went by.

Betsy now feels anxious instead of angry. Because we don't want to be overwhelmed or "dysregulated," we suppress our primary emotions with inhibitors.

It's possible to numb our deepest feelings by engaging in unhealthy coping mechanisms like worry, shame, or guilt.

When Tom was a boy, his father taught him that "weeping and expressing sadness is for weaklings."

He's ashamed to be unhappy now that he's an adult. A sense of shame over his natural sadness has exacerbated his depressive symptoms.

People may believe they are "genetically defective" or "damaged goods" because they are unaware of fundamental and inhibiting emotions.

In contrast, anxiety and depression symptoms generated by suppressed or buried underlying emotions can be alleviated and even cured via treatment and knowledge of the mind-body connection. Medical school doesn't teach many psychiatrists the science of emotions, thus they risk misdiagnosing their patients and leaving the fundamental cause of their illnesses unresolved, which is the suppressed emotions.

To describe trauma, one must first understand what it is.

Diana Fosha, a world-renowned psychologist, believes that trauma and psychopathology are the results of feeling overpowering emotions in the face of unwanted, complete isolation. Trauma, by this definition, is something that every human being has to deal with at some point in their lives.

How many of us have had to deal with our emotions on our own for fear of criticism, desertion, or retribution?

Families and relationships can suffer trauma when emotional neglect or abuse is present.

We live in a world full of violence, stress, and injustice, so trauma isn't only something that happens in families and relationships.

The fact that parents and schools haven't been given the right tools to address this issue — and they are often unequipped when it comes to mental health — only adds to our misery. Parents and schools.

As a result, they are ill-equipped to assist youngsters in dealing with overwhelming emotions, which is essential if we are to raise calm, self-assured children in the midst of a chaotic and traumatising world. As a result, parents who are unable to deal with their own powerful emotions are unlikely to be able to help their children deal with their own feelings, either.

The most loving parents can easily stifle their children's emotions, and many schools lack the resources necessary to help them flourish emotionally.

As a result, many youngsters experience social isolation and internal shame as they grow older. As a result of being chastised and alone with one's emotions, the most common response is to bury one's feelings. Many of us are left to deal with simmering traumatic stress, which we numb with protective actions and by doing so become more addicted, distracted, and alienated.

Food, alcohol, and drugs may cause us to establish an unhealthy relationship with them.

Perhaps we isolate ourselves or lash out.

Our nerve systems need to be rebalanced and calmed in order for healing to take place.

Changing Our Way of Life

All of us can benefit from emotional awareness and the ability to overcome our inhibitions, not just psychiatrists and psychologists.

It is my opinion that teachers and guidance counselors should be given an emotional education as part of their professional development. To help parents understand how to be emotionally available and not afraid of their children's emotional states, this material should be included in parenting books.

Instead, they would learn to affirm and be with their children's emotions by listening to them with curiosity but not reacting.

Adults in this ideal environment are also better able to deal with their own personal stress and conflict. Emotions such as anger, sadness, fear, and joy would all be acknowledged, affirmed, and bolstered. We'd all get a crash course in triggers, too, the things that set off our bodies' overactive sympathetic nervous systems.

We can take comfort in the fact that our emotions are perfectly natural and normal in the face of life's ups and downs.

We'd be able to respond constructively to triggers if we had the information, tools, and practice.

There are high rates of physical and mental well-being in societies with significant emotional awareness. Because it knows what it means to be human, this is a culture that places a high value on genuine connection and cooperative community.

#mental health problems #mental health awareness

[transmascsam]

Sam’s little story with Amy the kitsune was actually sooooooo cute seriously FUCK Dean for killing her. Genuinely upset rn

#we can talk about the fact that they connected over their parents treatment. and then Amy’s mom hit her and then she killed her mom. #just like. super interesting :) #but anyways yeah fr fuck him for that. like Sam said if they were in her position Dean would’ve done the SAME THING #sam winchester #mine

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 306: the beginning of the WHAT

Previously on BnHA: Nana and the Gang were all, “hey Deku, we can read your thoughts and feelings so we should already know the answer to this, but for some reason we want to quiz you on whether or not you’d be down to kill Shigaraki Tomura.” Deku was all, “um okay, well tbh, probably not seeing as Saving People has been my entire thing since literally the start of the series.” The Vestiges were all, “yes that makes perfect sense and again we already knew that, but well, good for you buddy and I’m glad we had this talk. Anyway I guess we should ask these two cryptic fuckers in the corner to finally turn around now before we run out of -- ” and then the chapter ended. Because OF COURSE IT DID.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “YOU DON’T NEED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, WOULDN’T IT BE SO MUCH BETTER IF I GAVE YOU A CONFUSING CHAPTER WHERE EVERYONE FINALLY LEARNS ABOUT OFA, AND GOES BACK TO THE DORMS, AND THEN THE CHAPTER ENDS WITH DEPRESSED NOMAD DEKU STANDING ON A PRECIPICE WITH GRAN TORINO’S TATTERED CAPE FLOWING IN THE WIND.” Everyone is all, “???????????” Horikoshi is all, “also the parents are moving to the U.A. campus, and Jeanist’s neck is two and a half feet long, for everyone that was wondering.” Everyone is all, “WHERE ARE KACCHAN AND TODOROKI AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHO ARE THE SECOND AND THIRD USERS”, and Horikoshi is all, “:)” and fades away into nothingness like the fucking fae he is. Like a fucking imp who’s kept his end of the cursed bargain. What, the, fuck.

okay guys, so after the longest Thursday of my fucking life, during which I was secretly hoping that my spoiler containment net would be somehow be breached, inadvertently exposing me to theta spoiler radiation, so that I could be all “oh no... spoilers... there’s nothing I can do... I have no choice but to look” (which sadly did not happen), it is finally Friday and the chapter is finally out. so I’ve got my clown kit at the ready and other self-deprecating memes on standby, and I’m ready to go. and I should note that I’m also ready for Horikoshi to pull some absolute bullshit and be like, “oh you know what, we haven’t checked in with Rat Principal in a while have we” and spend the entire chapter on nonsense like that. I’M READY FOR FUCKING ANYTHING so bring it

(ETA: it would be nice if this man wouldn’t call my bluff every now and again.)

oh, right, we were due a color page! wow look at this

isn’t this supposed to be the future?? what’s with all of these staticky CRT TVs

anyway, so! is this the first time we’ve seen Tomura’s stylish finger prosthetic glove thingy in color?? because I didn’t expect it to be red. also, at some point you just have to give in and change your pants into cutoffs or something, Tomura. start a new trend of stylish villain capris

meanwhile Deku is dressed like he’s going on a journey into the desert to find a mystical oasis. actually this cape looks a lot like Gran Torino’s. I have to go back and see if Gran’s is all raggedy like this

(ETA: it wasn’t before but APPARENTLY IT IS NOW. I also forgot that Horikoshi had showed it sitting on a side table in the hospital a few chapters ago.)

lastly, AFO looks like someone’s thumb after they’ve been washing dishes for twenty minutes. you are just the ugliest dude in history, and as always, fuck you

HAHAHA SOB I KNEW IT

oh, Twowy McTwoface is finally starting to turn around? better CUT BACK TO DEKU’S HOSPITAL ROOM THEN. wouldn’t want to accidentally ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS or SOLVE ANY MYSTERIES, god forbid

well, whatever. whatever!! anyway so now someone’s knocking at the door. I say “someone” but we all know it’s Hawks

yep

they were actually standing outside the door for a while hoping they’d overhear another juicy plot conversation, but no such luck this time

lmaooo Jeanist wtf

acting all embarrassed, but you’re really just as curious as Hawks is. making him do all the dirty work for you huh

ARE YOU SERIOUS THIS IS AN INJUSTICE

so like two seconds after Katsuki gets dragged away you open the door for the rest of them!! well, fine!! I really want it to be a more private/personal moment between the two of them anyway so let the other kids check in on Deku first then

and in the meantime, time to see Hawks put the thumbscrews to All Might’s resolve lol

I wonder how much of it Hawks has already put together in the last five minutes. One for All is something connected to All for One that Tomura seems to want. Tomura was apparently targeting Deku. that’s more than enough to make a few deductions right there. I wonder how much Hawks knows about Deku’s quirk. he did watch the sports festival, and he ran into the kids interning under Endeavor that one time

okay well maybe he hasn’t put the rest of it together just yet, but Hawks is making a pretty reasonable pitch here to All Might

also this is a pretty spectacular view. is this a hospital or a hotel??

AHLKJLKJLKJ ARE YOU SERIOUSLY GOING TO TELL THEM

OH MY GOD HE IS?!?!

JUST LIKE WE ALL EXPECTED, THE NEXT TWO PEOPLE TO LEARN THE TRUTH ABOUT OFA ARE GOING TO BE HAWKS, AND BEST FUCKING JEANIST

-- LFKLKKLDK ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. ARE YOU --

( •̀_•́ )

[sitting cross-legged on the ground pulling up little clumps of grass and letting them fall from my fingers one by one] yeah. sure. okay. fine. sure

-- OKAY, NO. NUH-UH. NO

everybody better hold tight cuz I’m about to pick up this whole chapter and yeet it into the ocean like a fucking frisbee lol

HORIKOSHI I DON’T CARE ABOUT THESE PEOPLE SITTING HERE WATCHING TV WTF

-- OH

well okay then. proceed. though lord help me if they’re about to reveal the secret of OFA to the whole fucking world skdkj

oh snap

well, there it is. pretty much what I expected, but it’s good to actually get to see this moment with him taking responsibility

though at the same time, thank you Horikoshi for not forcing us to sit through the rest of that

their fucking faces omg. okay but seriously, what nation doesn’t secretly love a good scandal

the Endeavor Pamphlets, part two. thank you for giving the country something to opine about on twitter in these trying times, Enji

so now they’re asking about Hawks and Jeanist but I cannot even focus on anything all of a sudden because what?!

is Jeanist even a real actual human being you guys?! are we sure he’s not three kids sitting on each other’s shoulders?? are you related to that one guy with the really long neck from the Jedi Council?? are you Orochimaru, bro??

so now Hawks is apologizing for the murder of Twice, and for hiding the connection with his dad

the fact that he has to give this serious formal apology and beg forgiveness for the shameful crime of Having An Abusive Father is really something else, though. just. it’s realistic, but I still hate it

moving on now to the one thing he actually does owe the public an explanation for

not to go all “Hawks did nothing wrong” on you guys yet again, but seriously. 100% facts. fandom can (and no doubt will) debate this until the end of time, but if Twice had gotten away they wouldn’t be having this press conference right now because there wouldn’t be any heroes left to give one. anyways though, I’ve already said more than enough about that in previous posts

so now some severe-looking lady with the weirdest fingers I’ve ever seen is saying that her mother was injured during Machia’s rampage

and she’s basically all “a fuck lot of good ‘I’m sorry’ does us all about now.” true true

wow she’s really getting fired up

and now Enji is basically saying that he understands that an apology isn’t enough, and what they really need now are solutions. okay, well! SO THEN WHAT IS THE PLAN THEN

hmmfsdgh

this eloquent PEZ dispenser makes a good point you guys

wait, hold up

CERTAIN citizens?? um excuse me, what??

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shit

holy shit. well, this will go over well

okay! so this tells me a number of things, though

basically the minute that Hawks learned about One for All, he realized that anyone connected to Deku (e.g. Inko) would be a target for AFO. AFO wants OFA, meaning AFO wants Deku, and one of the easiest ways to get to Deku would be to target his family

Hawks therefore realized that Inko needed to be placed into protective custody

but the fact that ALL of the hero course students’ families (and is it only the U.A. hero course, or all of the hero course students across the country?) are being given protection tells me that Hawks and co. don’t want to single Deku out as being important. so then it looks like they’re not going to tell everyone about OFA (or at least not the public. which, good). so rather than drawing suspicion by saying “we’ve got to protect everyone connected with this one kid”, they’re making it seem like all the U.A. kids’ families are getting this treatment

but since the heroes are now spread so thin, they can’t just send a protective detail to each and every family, so they’re bringing all of the families to the same place instead to better keep an eye on them

so that’s all well and good, and a very smart move. except that idk how all of this is going to go over with the general public, all of whom are probably feeling unsafe at the moment, and who will probably see this as preferential treatment -- basically just the heroes looking after their own and leaving everyone else to fend for themselves

(ETA: okay so @hanashimas​’ translation clarifies that U.A. is offering their services as an evacuation shelter for everyone who wants it, not just the families of the U.A. students. that’s much more appropriate so I withdraw my previous “wtf” reaction lol.)

anyway though here’s Mitsuki and Inko

can we take this as confirmation that the two of them really are friends? that’s one piece of fanon that I’ve always hoped was true, so I’m gonna go ahead and say it’s confirmed

(ETA: also this means that Hagakure’s parents (or maybe “parents” in quotation marks) will supposedly be moving in as well. sure am curious as to how that’s going to go.)

now someone in the press crowd is asking whether U.A. can provide adequate security, which is honestly the LAST thing I expected these people would be outraged about lol. shows what I know I guess

(ETA: again though, this makes sense if the “certain civilians” thing was just a translation error.)

LMAO DAMMIT ENJI

YOU CAN’T JUST ALWAYS PULL THE “JUST WATCH ME” TRICK AND EXPECT IT TO SHUT DOWN THE CONVERSATION EVERY DAMN TIME YOU ASSHOLE

-- OH MY GOD RED ALERT

TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BECAUSE OMG

WASH CAN’T BELIEVE HIS FAMILY GROUP CHAT IS STILL SENDING HIM FUCKING MEMES AT A TIME LIKE THIS. HE DOESN’T GIVE A FUCK IF THE DABI DANCE IS TRENDING ON TIKTOK, MOM!!

FOR A MINUTE I THOUGHT MT. LADY WAS HOLDING MIDNIGHT’S TORN-UP MASK, AND BY THE TIME I REALIZED THAT’S ACTUALLY HER MASK AND NOT MIDNIGHT’S, I HAD ALREADY CONSTRUCTED AN ELABORATE HEADCANON IN WHICH MT. LADY AND MIDNIGHT WERE SECRETLY DATING BUT HADN’T COME OUT TO ANYONE YET, AND THEN TRAGEDY STRUCK, AND NOW MT. LADY IS GETTING READY TO SET OUT TO SEEK VENGEANCE. AND WELL, NOW THAT THIS HEADCANON EXISTS IN THE WORLD, I’M NOT SURE IF I’M READY TO GET RID OF IT

MIRKO HAS GOTTEN HERSELF A PROSTHETIC (ROBOT??!) ARM, NOTHING ELSE THAT’S HAPPENING IN THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN SLIGHTLY IMPORTANT!!! HELLO!!!!!

AIZAWA WITH THE EYEPATCH GOOD LORD. THE WORLD ISN’T READY. HE LOOKS LIKE HE HASN’T SLEPT IN NINETY-EIGHT YEARS, BUT SOMEHOW HE MAKES IT INTO THE HOTTEST THING EVER AS PER USUAL

WHO THE FUCK IS THIS FUCKING GUY. ARE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW HIM? IS THIS KAMUI?? WAS THAT THING WHICH I ALWAYS ASSUMED WAS HIS HAIR ACTUALLY A HELMET OR SOMETHING WHAT

LOL AND MEANWHILE

you tell me, Dabi! weren’t you the one who said that wouldn’t be enough to kill him? what even is your endgame here. I’m starting to worry about the villain brain cell supply you guys. I feel like Compress took most of them with him when he left

OH??

“when asked about One for All, Endeavor fucking lied through his teeth.” well, well, well

SLKDFJLSKGDJLKLKGJL THE DORMS

( ⁰ ⌂ ⁰ )

SLDKJFLKJWLKJLK

WLKDJSLKJFWKELKSDJLKHGLK

HDSMFLKGKL:GDSELK

OCHAKO’S HAND IS SHAKING OH MY GOD

THERE’S YOUR KAMINARI, EVERYONE!!

RHA’S SCANLATION TEAM REALLY THREW DEKU’S HANDWRITING UNDER THE BUS HERE HUH

HE TOLD EVERYONE!?

WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING IT AS A LETTER

(ETA: 9. also if he really wrote every kid in his class then that means the U.A. traitor -- or Hagakure as we like to call her around these parts -- also knows about OFA, and knows that Deku has run the fuck off and isn’t at U.A. anymore. so that’s just great!)

OH HELL NO

the hell does that mean, you must leave. leave to go where. son you are not up and leaving to go power up and lead us all into a timeskip. and I swear to GOD, if you left Kacchan too...!!

MY GOD I CAN’T PROPERLY ABSORB ALL OF THESE OCHAKO FEELS RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M TOO TERRIFIED TO SCROLL TO THE LAST FUCKING PAGE, FUCK

I JUST GOTTA DO IT. I JUST GOTTA SUCK IT UP AND DO IT. FUCK

FUCK

WHAT. THE. FUCK

y’all I’m not even gonna waste your time with more keysmashing, JUST ASSUME THAT I AM DOING IT NONSTOP, FOREVER. and let’s just jump RIGHT IN HERE

okay so here I thought that All Might and co. had taken him away somewhere to train, but that is CLEARLY not what’s going on here. this kid is standing here in his Apocalypse Aesthetic hero costume which has CLEARLY seen better days, with Gran Torino’s cloak (GUESS THAT EXPLAINS THAT, THEN?? SO DID GRAN FUCKING DIE EXCUSE ME WTF), and a fucking backpack. this little green idiot has RUN AWAY FROM HOME. this is the absolute LAST THING ON EARTH I ever expected to happen so PARDON ME WHILE I SCREAM CONFUSEDLY INTO THE VOID

he does not look okay. you guys he doesn’t look okay at ALL. he has NEVER looked like this. this isn’t just a “I’m sad because I’m leaving all my friends behind” kind of look on his face, or even just a “Gran Torino died maybe and I’m still having emotions over it” look. this is an EXHAUSTED, dead look in his eyes. something terrible has happened

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR ARMS DEKU. THE PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING DOWN WITH YOUR ARMS GODDAMMIT

love how this random building is just straight up collapsing, like that’s just a normal thing that happens every day now. lovely

APRIL MEANS IT’S NOW FULL ON SCHEDULED ALL-MIGHT-DYING-HOURS, BUT LET’S COMPLETELY IGNORE THAT THOUGH BECAUSE FUCK THAT NOISE

“THE SECOND USER? WHO KNOWS? CERTAINLY NOT ME” HORIKOSHI I SWEAR TO GOD

“BAKUGOU? NEVER HEARD OF HIM!” HORIKOSHI PLEASE

WHERE. IS. KACCHAN

did he go with Deku?? did he get a chance to talk to him before he left?? did he get his own private letter which he read and then promptly blew up in a fit of panicked rage?? is he going to go after him?? DOES HORIKOSHI KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING TO ME RIGHT NOW?? OF COURSE HE DOES, DON’T BOTHER ANSWERING THAT

omg. though actually the fact that we’ve already jumped a few weeks forward makes me hopeful that there won’t actually be another timeskip, or at least not much of one. I’m sure that’ll be the big debate of the week, but I don’t think we can jump too far forward here. for starters because of that All Might prophecy I mentioned. and also because TomurAFO isn’t just going to wait around for months. and also because I’m 100% sure that Deku’s running-away backpack is just filled ENTIRELY WITH NOTEBOOKS and this asshole cannot possibly survive more than 3 days on his own. UNLESS SOMEONE COMES TO HELP HIM THAT IS. OR SOMEONES, EVEN. OMG. omg omg omg. fuck this chapter lmao

#bnha 306 #midoriya izuku #hawks (bnha) #takami keigo #endeavor #todoroki enji #best jeanist #all might #uraraka ochako #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[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. 

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