#but I’m pretty sure she’s won in two different categories

[cleolinda]

HOT TAKE

They should cap Oscar wins at two per category so that a wider variety of people get to win. It’s nice to get to prove that you weren’t just a one hit wonder, but stop after that. There are wonderful people with umpteen trophies but how many times have you just writhed there on your couch at the sight of some actor(s) who are really deserving, missing out because A Legend won again? The Legend’s career didn’t need a fifth Oscar. The Legend’s life won’t be changed by that. And that goes for directors, composers, costume designers, all of them. Start the nominations announcements with “Here are the people who got enough votes but are no longer eligible. Peace and love to you” if it makes you feel better. Hollywood creatives, I love you all (okay not all of you, some of you are awful) but there are specific ways to help promote awards diversity and this is one of them.

I don’t even know that this would affect anyone this year, I was just thinking about it.

[avatar-anna]

Can you make a request about Y/N on Brits with Harry? she is also being nominated for several categories and the two get drunk during the awards and have to go on stage even though they are drunk.

on a roll because i don't want to watch the superbowl😂

this is a platonic best friend fic!

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

“Drink up, bitch, we’re getting shit faced tonight.”

Not even questioning it, Harry took the shot glass you slid his way, clinking it against yours before tossing it back. “One more,” he said, and you were more than happy to oblige.

Even though you were both nominated tonight, and even though both of you would be in front of a camera at one point or another, you still planned on getting drunk as if you were at Harry’s place instead of Wembley Stadium. Because if there was one thing you and Harry could count on, it was having an excellent time together.

You’d known Harry for years, had grown up in the industry together. He was a good friend to you over the years, perhaps even your best friend. You listened to each other’s music to give feedback, you went to each other’s shows whenever your schedules allowed, but most importantly, you made award shows like the Brits your bitch.

As Harry won each of his awards tonight, you cheered loudly from your table, and when he stumbled onto the stage and basically tried to flirt with anyone with a pulse, you were there to film all of it.

The after party was no different.

You’d caught wind that Harry gave some bullshit response in an interview that he was possibly only going to have one drink to celebrate, but not on your watch.

“Oi! Y/n! Quit flirting and get your ass over here so we can dance!” Harry practically shouted across the club you and a couple of friends decided on after the Brits. He’d disappeared on you, but of course he got jealous when you talk to someone else.

“Your boyfriend?” the guy you’d been speaking with asked.

“I will have you know, that I am Y/n’s best friend,” Harry replied, appearing from behind you. His hair was thoroughly mussed, and you were pretty sure there was a hickey on his collar bone. You raised your eyebrows at him, but he pointedly ignored it. “And I am in need of my best friend’s assistance, so if you will excuse us.”

Harry pulled you away from the guy and toward the dance floor, where he immediately spun you around. He wasn’t the best dancer you knew, but what he lacked in rhythm and coordination, he made up for in enthusiasm. And Harry was most certainly energetic at the moment.

“You gonna tell me about this?” you asked, poking the hickey on his skin.

Harry shook his head. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Liar!” you said, playfully pushing his shoulder. Harry giggled like a schoolgirl to you whenever he hooked up with someone. “They’re either super famous or you’re too embarrassed to say, which is it?”

Harry pretended to zip his lips with his fingers, and you decided to let the subject go. For now. You’f get it out of him eventually.

“I’m proud of you, by the way,” you told him, leaning in close so he could hear you. “This was your year, Sue. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. I feel like I should be a tiny bit humble because I beat you, but...” Harry shrugged.

You knew he was joking. Both of you had worked extremely hard this year, but when Harry’s name was announced for the category you were both in, all you felt was immense joy for your best friend. Still you smirked and threw your arm around his shoulder. “Just wait til next year. You won’t know what hit you.”

“Now that I believe.”

You led Harry back toward the bar for another drink, though you could tell it was about time for the two of you to get home.

“I might need to crash at your place,” Harry muttered.

“Fine, but breakfast is on you,” you said.

Harry pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, which you promptly wiped away. “Deal.”

[game-set-canet]

can i get a meddy imagine where he falls in love with a female player on tour and its wholesome because they can only communicate in english because she speaks another language he doesnt

It's not an easy story

Pairing: Daniil Medvedev x f!reader

category: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: Sorry it took me so so long, lovely anon! but i hope you like it 💗 also: English isn’t my mother tongue, so I apologise for any mistakes

*Y/N = your name *L/N = your last name

MY M A S T E R L I S T

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

*** *** *** Getting to know each other *** *** ***

Andrey and Daniil are sitting at a table near the bar talking about the Roland Garros match so far when two women enter the restaurant and head for the bar.

The bartender greets them with a friendly smile: “Bonjour, mesdames! Qu'est-ce que je vous sers à boire?” ["Hello, ladies! What can I get you to drink?"]

One of the woman answers in slow French: “Juste une bouteille d'eau, s'il vous plait" ["Just a bottle of water, please"]

“Très volontiers” ["With pleasure!"]

Daniil’s gaze is on the two women, his food is suddenly uninteresting: “Who is that?”

“That are Caroline Garcia and Y/N L/N!”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, I think she’s number 45 of the world at the moment”, Andrey tries to spear a pea with a fork and therefore doesn’t see Daniil’s little smile.

“Earth to Danya, are you listening?”, Andrey waves his hand in front of the older man's face.

Daniil is torn from his thoughts and blinks slowly: “Mh?”

“You weren’t listening. Great. I talk about my problems in life and you aren’t listening…”

“Sorry.”, Daniil can't help his eyes sliding once again to the two women at the bar.

“What were you thinking?”, Andrey follows Daniil's gaze with his eyes and begins to grin, “Ohhh, do you like her?”

Daniil hastily turns away and clears his throat: “Do I like who?”, he is quite relieved that it is not so bright in the restaurant and Andrey cannot see the light shade of red on his cheeks.

“Don't pretend to be dumber than you are: I’m talking about Y/N!”

“Uhm…”

Andrey’s grin gets bigger and bigger: “Oh, you like her! Do you know her?”

“No. Do you?”

“No, I only saw her practice once or twice with Kasatkina”, Andrey leans over the table, “So, do you like her?”

“I don’t know her but…”, Daniil nibbles at his lower lip, his gaze fixed on Y/n, who runs her hand through her hair and laughs at something Caroline said.

“…but you think she’s pretty”

Daniil hesitates a few seconds. He knows Andrey doesn’t mean it but there gonna be a lot of jokes in the next days about this. Nevertheless, he answers with a quite “Yes.”

Andrey looks back and forth between Daniil and Y/N at the bar and cradles his head on one side: “Alright, go and talk to her!”

Daniil isn’t sure whether he heard correctly: “Definitely not!”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s awkward!”, he crosses his arms defensively.

Andrey can’t help but laughs at his friend: “Everything you do is awkward”, Daniil gives him an icy look, but Andrey ignores it, “Nevertheless: go and talk to her! Parry already left!”

Daniil is deep in thoughts, already playing through different scenarios in his head: “What should I say?”

“Uhm… congratulate her on her win today?”

“How do you know she won?”

Andrey raises his hands and points to his smartphone: “I just googled her.”, he grins at Daniil, “Come on, Danya! You don’t have to marry her, just a little small talk!”

Daniil’s heart is racing in his chest because – truth to be told – he knows who Y/N L/N is. He already watched some of her matches (ok, all of her matches) this year and even checks her Instagram account regularly. As Caroline Garcia wasn’t to be seen, he takes a deep breath and closes the distance to lean next to Y/N at the bar counter: “Bonjour Y/N!”

Y/N looks up from her mobile phone in surprise: “Uhm…bonjour Daniil!”

“Comment te sens-tu?”, Daniil tries to smile at her and hopes she doesn’t notice his slightly shacking voice, “Félicitations pour ta victoire d'aujourd'hui!”

Y/N brushes a strand of hair out of her face: “I’m sorry, I don’t speak French…I…I don’t understand you.”

Daniil's facial features slip away: “Oh, I thought…”, he takes a step back, “I thought because you ordered something to drink in French and…well…”, he never felt this stupid in his life.

“I can greet and order food and drinks in French but that’s all…”

Daniil is now bright red in the face: “That’s a bit embarrassing now…I’m sorry!”

Daniil is about to turn away when Y/N puts a hand on his forearm: “No, it’s not! I think it’s really nice of you!”, she smiles at him, “Would you like to join me?”, she points to the bar stool next to her.

Daniil nods instantly and returns her smile. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Andrey nodding at him with a grin and leaving the restaurant.

*** *** *** 3 months later *** *** ***

! Your point of view !

On the stressful tennis tour, it is often not that easy to spend time together: Matches, training, physio, interviews, sponsor appearances and different tournament schedules often make it difficult.

That's why Daniil and you are always eager to make full use of the time you have together.

That’s way you are all the more frustrated when Daniil doesn't show up. You have been waiting for your boyfriend outside the restaurant for more than 20 minutes. You had arranged to meet here to have dinner together in this restaurant. But your boyfriend didn’t show up.

"Medvedev, you can't be serious!" you curse half aloud as you try to call him again. But just like the previous 10 times, you only get a voicemail.

Another 5 minutes passed without the Russian showing up. You even called Andrey Rublev to ask him where Daniil might be. The two had practiced together before midday and maybe they had forgotten the time. But Rublev said that Daniil had already left the training ground an hour ago. You don't know where he could be. And your frustration turns into anger.

Another 5 minutes later a Taxi stopped right in front of the restaurant and your boyfriend gets out of it. Daniil smiles at you and makes moves to pull you into his arms: “Y/N, my love! You look-”

You interrupt him, bewildered: “Where the hell were you?!”

“What?”

“WHERE. THE. HELL. WERE. YOU?!”, you emphasise every word and your voice is full of frustration.

Daniil swallows: “In the hotel?” he feels visibly uncomfortable.

“WHAT?!”

“Why are you so angry?” he now also raises his voice a little and makes you roll your eyes.

“Because you are late! 35 minutes late!”, you throw your arms in the air, “What were you thinking?!”

Daniil looks at you with wide eyes, he is pale: “I’m what?!”

“Late!”, you repeat impatiently, “I’ve been waiting here for 35 minutes! And I tried to call you! Multiple times! But you didn’t pick up!”

“My phone is on silent and-”, Daniil takes a deep breath, “I’m not late! You said we meet here at fifty past twelve!”

You think you heard wrong: “I said we meet here at fifteen past twelve! FIFTEEN! Not fifty!”

“No! You said fifty!”

“Why should I? I know I said fifteen!”

Daniil is silent for a few seconds: “Well, your accent is really terrible sometimes.”

“My accent?!”, you raise an eyebrow and give him an angry stare, “It’s not my fault you don’t listen!”

“I listened! I-“

“No, you were texting with Khachanov, you didn’t listen properly!”

Daniil looks at you provocatively: “So, you want me to agree that this is my fault?”

“It IS your fault!”

Your boyfriend shakes his head: “I don’t think so, but I will take the blame.”, suddenly a smile appears on his lips, “Because I know you're just grumpy because you're hungry.”

You can’t help but return his smile but you’re still a little mad at him: “No wonder that I’m hungry, I've been standing here for 35 minutes waiting for my unpunctual boyfriend!”

“I’m not unpunctual! We just had a misunderstanding!”

“A misunderstanding?!”

“I’m sorry, okay? Maybe it was my fault, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You pull a face but reach for his hand to interlace your fingers: “Mh…”

“You still mad at me?”

“No…I’m mostly hungry now.”

You both look at each other before you start laughing at the same time.

[rebelwhodoesntknow]

NOOO LMAO I have been really sick and haven't opened tumblr a lot 😭😂 you Karen bias is fine I have seen it before

It's sad Koharu always kind of felt like an afterthought to me.. Some things were different in the game than in the show and since there were no plots, she never went away, somehow she became one of the biggest fan favorites amongst kids and this happened pretty early on so... I'm really surprised it took them so long to bring her back and then they didn't do much with her at all 😭

She even won a contest irl for popular characters to get a new PR in parade, she got a cute one from rainbow berry parfait and then they never gave her a song with it in Parade or anything 🫠

She's really cute but unfortunately kind of forgettable because how little she got to do

I forget if I already said this but, the unit Baby Pirates were equal with the other main characters in the Friends' game until the anime started, they became recurring characters in like 6 episofes and that's it, no songs or anything!! Marin was actually one of my favorites and I adore her brand so that was kind of sad to see. Not sure if it was a typical Friends budget issue, like if they couldn't afford to pay more main voice actors or something (there were high hopes during Parade that they'd get a face-off song with Elza or something because pirates)

I hope you’re feeling better! Don’t worry I just worry like that sometimes I knew there was a totally logical explanation for that my brain just likes to be mean

Yeah, couldn’t they have had a Koharu original song in Parade? I would have liked to see what idol she grew into in the anime! At least the kids have objectively correct opinions on her and see her as important lol

I barely know anything about Baby Pirates because I haven’t watched much of Friends at all, but I’m already feeling bad about not seeing them!! I have a bit of a pirate obsession, so I would always see pirate coords and the like and wish they had done more with them. Elza’s pirate gear is not realistic, but it has a flair that would make any actual pirate supremely jealous. I always found it funny that her coords were royal and pirate themed considering the two did not like each other, but she looks good in both! In addition, her whole Sun Dress and Star Wings plot and her obsession with the dress definitely give off pirate vibes despite her being the idol queen.

I really wish we could hear what an Aikatsu sea shanty would sound like! We already have a Renaissance Fair-esque song so I think there’s a lot of untapped potential with that theme!

I also feel like pirates in general don’t have a strict typing, which is nice because a lot of fantastical themes seem to be exclusive to a type. Cute types get princesses and fairies, cool types get vampires, steampunk, and the gothic type in general, pop gets literally any fantastical concept that’s bright enough from nursery rhymes to clowns, and sexy types get queens, goddesses, and other beautiful ladies. Pirates, with enough tweaking, can absolutely fall into all of those categories!

TLDR: Piratekatsu spinoff when

[genevievemd]

Tattoo

Book: Open Heart (Bk 1, Ch 15) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Genevieve McClure) Word Count: 557 Rating: T Category: Angsty Fluff Trope(s): 

Summary: After finally spending the night together, Ethan discovers Gen’s hidden tattoo. 

Warnings: implied sexual activity (post sex)

A/N: Just a short little ficlet of when Ethan discovered Gen’s tattoo.

She never expected to be here, in Ethan’s bed, curled up against his side with nothing but a sheet covering her. She’d be lying if she said she never thought about it, but thinking about it and that dream becoming a reality were two completely different things. 

And what was even more alarming to Genevieve, was how safe she felt. That there wasn’t a moment of pure fear as Ethan took of that hideous country club dress. That for the first time in seven years, she had allowed herself to cross that once terrifying line… twice.  

And she knew, in her heart, that it only happened because of him. Because despite the turmoil since their kiss in Miami, Ethan had made her feel more cared for - loved - than anyone had in a long time. 

She was a person to him, a person he wanted to protect and fight for. 

Gen takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and concentrating on the beating of his heart. 

“Can I ask?” His voice is soft as his fingers trace the cursive letters marking her skin, tickling her ribs in the process.

“Sure.” Gen smiles, eyes still closed, “It’s something my grandmother would say to me growing up, or when something bad would happen, in French because that’s her first language. It’s silly.”

“No, I think it sums you up rather nicely.”

“You know what it says?”

“Yes. Be courageous and kind.” Ethan presses a gentle kiss into her hair, “I know enough of the language to get by should I ever find myself in France.”

“That’s kinda hot.”

Ethan smirks. “When did you get it?” 

“Sophomore year of undergrad.” She opens her eyes, staring at him as she turns onto her stomach, resting her head on her hands. “After a pretty bad breakup.” 

“Will you tell me about it?” His warm hand cups her cheek, thumb softly stroking.

“Maybe someday. It’s…” 

Genevieve can’t help but look away, the shame of her past washing over her like a tidal wave. 

She’s never told anyone, other than her sister, about the real details of that relationship. Not even her parents know about the things her ex had done, the words he would throw at her like darts to a board. The way he had used her, played with her heart and head. Tore her down until she was nothing but a skeleton. Forced to forge armor our of her broken pieces. 

“I’m sorry.” Ethan’s soothing voice breaks through her jumbled thoughts, forcing her to look back at him. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“That you had to go through something so painful. You don’t deserve that.” He brushes the hair away from her face, looking at her the same way he did on that balcony months ago. 

Like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

“I won’t ever force you to tell me anything, but I’m here whenever you feel safe enough.”

“I do feel safe.” Gen leans forward, sealing her truth with a delicate kiss. 

“Good.” 

They fall back into silence, though it’s comfortable. Something else she’s never had before. 

Everything with Ethan has been different, better, than her past. And although there are still battles to be won, and mountains to climb, Gen can only hope that whatever is happening with him continues to grow. 

That he becomes her forever.

A/N: Short and sweet. Let me know if you want a fic of Gen finally telling Ethan about Ryan. Because it’s actually different that the three part series I wrote about it (Nowhere Left to Run). That was simply for drama. 

(Tagging Separately) 

@openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[fruitcoops]

Hi, Eve

Rose here from yesterday, thank you very much for the Birthday message, I wasn't expecting you to read it let alone reply but I was looking for Coops kids Birthday fluff specifically. It doesn't matter if you don't have time however as I don't want to be a bother.

Hello Rose, and happy (belated) 20th birthday! Sorry for the wait--I really wanted to get this one right to celebrate such an important number. I hope your day was absolutely fantastic! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Stella is an OC

Combined with asks for Sirius lightly making fun of Remus' accent and Remus yelling at a game show (@nazar4114)

“Medusa!” Stella shouted with all the force in her thirteen-year-old lungs. Remus leaned forward on the couch. “Medusa!”

The front door opened with a creak. “I’m h—”

“Yes!” they cheered in unison as Nicole answered correctly. Remus turned and gave Stella a double high-five, feeling his heart squeeze at the vivid joy on her round face. “Good guess.”

“I knew she was gonna get it,” Stella said with a pump of her fist as she turned back to the show and folded her legs underneath her.

“Gonna,” a familiar deep voice mimicked from the doorway. Paper bags rustled before footsteps stopped behind the couch; Remus tilted his chin up without sparing a glance, and Sirius pressed a laugh-laced kiss to his cheek before dropping one on Stella’s head as well. “You sound too much like your dad.”

“Love you, too,” Remus said wryly.

“I’ll take ‘Myths and Moths’ for 400, please.” Nicole’s voice snapped his attention back to the screen, and Stella narrowed her eyes.

“Daily Double!” the automated voice announced. Stella gasped; Remus bit his lower lip. “This mythical shield was wielded by Athena, and is sometimes said to be made of goat skin.”

“Aegis,” Stella whispered, then raised her voice. “It’s the Aegis, Nicole. You know this.”

“We know you do,” Remus said, scooting forward. “You just guessed whose head is on it.”

Nicole’s buzzer went off with two seconds to spare. “What is the Aegis?”

“Hell yeah!” Stella whooped.

Remus turned to her and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse you.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you two going to do this the whole afternoon?” Sirius asked from the kitchen, obviously amused. “We might need to get the neighbors some noise-cancelling headphones.”

Stella blew a dark lock of hair out of her eyes as she flopped her head back. “It’s almost final Jeopardy, papa. We have, like, ten minutes.”

Sirius blinked at her, then shook his head. “I swear you two share genes.”

“Ope, you caught me,” Remus said over the noise of the commercial break. “When I was 20 and had literally never left Wisconsin, I went and had a secret kid in Maine who looks terribly like you just so that someone would watch Jeopardy reruns with me thirteen years later. Oops.”

“It’s the truth,” Stella said with great gravity. “I remember.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered, though he couldn’t keep a smile down. He had never been able to hide around Stella, not once in the three years since they had adopted her. It was one of the things Remus loved most about him. “By the way, nobody under the age of fourteen is allowed in the kitchen for the next…hour. Ish.”

Stella squirmed around until she could rest her arms on the back of the couch. “What if I get thirsty?”

“I’m sure you can invoke birthday privileges and ask your dad to get something for you.”

“Birthday privileges?” Remus scoffed. “Nobody in this house has a birthday today. Yours was last month, and mine’s in March.”

“It’s my birthday,” Stella said.

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah-huh.”

“Your birthday is in June.”

“It’s today.”

“Or maybe July?”

“It’s today, in December, when there’s snow,” she insisted, throwing herself back against the pillows. “Come on, dad, that’s not funny anymore.”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Is somebody too old to find their poor old dad amusing now? Can you go back to being twelve so somebody will laugh at my jokes again? I know, I know, we're super lame compared to all your friends’ parents—”

“So lame,” Sirius agreed from the kitchen.

“—but I like to think we get one more year of pre-teen cuteness before the teen angst takes over.”

Stella sat up again with a groan. Looking at her, Remus saw a mix of himself and Sirius that had always baffled him, considering they had adopted her comparatively late in her life; beneath it was something uniquely Stella. Maybe it was her double-jointed elbows, or the board-straightness of her hair next to their curls, but there was no mistaking that she was her own person through and through. He loved that about her. “I’m not going to be a terrible teenager.”

Sirius poked his head around the edge of the kitchen—his nose was adorned with a smudge of flour. “Can I record that for future use?”

“Non.”

“Ooo, using the French,” Remus hissed. “That transformation is already beginning.”

“It’s not like you were bad teenagers, right?” She settled upside-down on the couch with her flamingo-patterned socks high in the air.

“I almost convinced Grandma to let me dye my hair blue, but otherwise I was pretty good.”

“I was terrible,” Sirius laughed. “I didn’t talk to anybody for a solid three years.”

Stella frowned. “How? I think I’d die if I did that.”

“He’s stubborn,” Remus stage-whispered.

“I heard that.”

Stella suppressed her laughter as best she could, but she was about as good at hiding her emotions around them as Sirius was. She didn’t really giggle—the amount her voice had deepened over the past three years always gave Remus whiplash—but her laugh had the same cadence as it did the first day they heard it. While Stella had been quiet at first, it only took love and time to bring her out of her shell. Within a year she settled into their lives like she was always meant to be there.

A thoughtful look crossed her face. “This is my last year before high school.”

“Does it feel different?”

“Not really.” She paused, then shrugged. “And a little. I don’t feel older. It just feels like there’s stuff I won’t get to do anymore.”

“And a lot more you will get to do.” Sirius left his dishtowel on the counter before joining them on Stella’s other side. “You can drive soon, you’ll get a longer curfew, you get more freedom…”

“I guess.”

“What are you going to miss?” Remus asked as she toyed with the hem of her shirt. It was a basic Lions FAN jersey; he was fairly sure she bought it to be ironic. That, and she only wore one of theirs if she was upset with the other, or if one needed a boost at a game.

“I dunno.” A few beats of silence passed. “My classmates. My team. It feels like everything’s going to turn upside down.”

“You can still keep in touch with your friends, and I bet your team won’t be too different,” Sirius said quietly. “Even if it does, that doesn’t mean you have to give all of them up. People change in different ways. They come and go on their own time.”

“There’s going to be a lot of upside-downs over the next couple years, kid.” Remus offered her a smile. “But you’re going to be just fine.”

“You two sound like such dads right now.”

“This might shock you, but that’s because we are.”

The corner of her mouth tugged up and she lolled her head to the side to look at Sirius. “Is the cake done?”

“Fifteen more minutes.”

“Will you watch final Jeopardy with us?”

“What’s the category?”

“US Presidents.”

Sirius exhaled through his nose, but nodded. She grinned and turned herself upright to snuggle against his arm. “You just enjoy watching me lose.”

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

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Sirius called from the kitchen.

“On three,” Remus said, raising his phone camera. “One, two, three!”

“Happy birthday to you,” over a dozen voices sang. They were off-tempo and so out of key the composer was probably spinning in his grave, but Stella’s clear joy didn’t waver for a millisecond even as her cheeks reddened. “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Stella, happy birthday to you!”

Finn, of course, dragged out the last note. So did Leo, Logan, Kasey, James, Lily, and Talker in varying degrees of awful harmony attempts. It was terrible, and beautiful. “Make a wish,” Sirius said softly as he set the cake down and stepped back. His eyes were the brightest quicksilver Remus had seen in many moons.

Stella closed her eyes, took a breath, and blew as hard as she could—the entire room erupted into cheers when all the candles went out. She was laughing and blushing at the same time when Remus turned the lights back on, though the humor won out in the end and she helped pass plates of cake to her many aunts and uncles. Like every year prior, Regulus managed to smear a bit of frosting on her chin, only to immediately deny it with great offense when she noticed. It was becoming a bit of a tradition—one that Remus never grew tired of.

I know what I would wish for, Remus thought as he looked around the table at their patchwork family. Celeste, Dumo, and his own parents had no doubt spoiled their first grandchild with ‘cusp of adulthood’ gifts, and Natalie and Lily would certainly steal her away after cake for some girl time. Finn and Logan would remain the fun uncles while Leo and Regulus kept their thrones as the cool uncles; Stella would interrogate Jules on the intricacies of high school for at least an hour before they destroyed everyone in a snowball fight. The world they built together had a place for everyone.

I would wish for this. This, for us, forever. It wasn’t a bad eternity to imagine.

[menalez]

Genuine (not Bad faith!) question, I'm definitely against trans women competing against women because they have biological advantage, but for the same reason I think people like Caster Semenya and the other disqualified runners (who all have XY chromosomes, male testosterone levels and testicles) should not compete against women also. You seem to think differently so can you say why? And what is to you the fairest way to protect women's competition if it's not testosterone?

sorry it took me some time to answer this,, i wanted to think on it for a bit so that i could word what i want to say clearly. in the case of caster semenya, she does have XY chromosomes and the testes are afaik internal, her external genetalia is female and her testosterone levels are to my knowledge, higher than the average woman but not at the male level either is it not? i tried to look it up and it seems like there's no public information on what her testosterone levels even are so i guess we can't really be sure on that.

for intersex female athletes, their testosterone should be below 5 nmol/L. this is below the average male levels, but higher than the average female levels. caster semenya's levels seem to be above 5 nmol/L, so she's expected to take drugs to alter her natural hormone levels. now this is where it gets really unfair and shows how these rules are harsher on female athletes than on the male athletes competing in female sports (really makes u question WHY this is even the case): for trans women, their testosterone levels have to be below 10 nmol/L. that means, trans women are allowed to have TWICE the amount of testosterone as intersex women like caster semenya. so basically, the rules on non-intersex males who grew up as men and lived as men is far more lenient than the rules are on intersex women. so that's the first reason i treat these two situations differently.

secondly, studies have found that caster semenya's FASTEST TIME is only 2% higher than other female athletes. moreover, the reason women with intersex conditions like caster's, having female genitalia and all, testosterone is not processed by the body in the same way. so its likely her testosterone levels don't even give her much of an advantage, and based on her history, it hasn't! her fastest time isn't even significantly better than other female athletes. it's not like she was once a mediocre male athlete who then went into women's sports and started crushing the competition, she was always professionally in women's sports and has won & lost like everyone else, with her fastest time not even being much higher than other competitors. in fact some of the female athletes who spoke against her had even better times than her and performed even better.

so, caster semenya's best is 2% faster than her competitors.... how about for trans women? well, a study found that trans women retain a 12% advantage over females when it comes to running. this is similar to the difference between male performance and female performance differences, because it was found that testosterone in males & females makes a difference of up to 12%. 2% vs 12%.... 5 nmol/L vs 10 nmol/L..... do you see the issue here? keep in mind, there have always been athletes that are exceptional, with natural (but often mild) biological advantages. the difference between caster semenya and other female athletes falls into the mild biological advantages category, but from what i've listed... the difference between trans women's performance and female performance is pretty significant and pretty different from caster semenya.

as for what the criteria should be and what is the fairest way, i think first of all there should be more studies into this before it's made into policy and i also definitely think that trans women being allowed to have significantly higher testosterone levels than even intersex females in women's sports is unfair considering there's good amount of proof that trans women already have a biological advantage over females in sports. beyond that, i'm not sure how it should be. but i certainly don't think the way they've treated female athletes with naturally higher testosterone (that doesn't even gain them much of an advantage), is fair considering how they've treated male athletes with twice as much testosterone levels.

[bonny-kookoo]

Tiny Treasures | JJK x Reader | 💜🐾(☁️)🔞

Commission for @eyerin !! Thank you sm for that request! 💖

Want to request too? Take a look at my ko-fi then! (ko-fi.com/bonnykookoo)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

Genre: hybrid AU, non-idol!AU, Web-Designer!Jungkook, bunny hybrid!Reader, featuring Taehyung: your local scatterbrain (TM)

Warnings: absolute fluff, it’s cotton candy I swear, so soft, so sweet, oh lord, reader is shy and sweet, Jungkook is whipped, he’s so sweet with her ugh, this is now my official emotional support Koo, some mentions of past abuse/neglect, did I mention that kook is whipped, because his heart go boom boom whenever reader so much as BREATHES, strength kink (hint), your local praise and size kink say hi as well, no smut would you believe it, possibly future parts? I dont know I just love them okay

Summary: Jungkook was a hopeless romantic believing in love at first sight- and then there was you, a bunny experiencing the tiny treasures of life for the first time. Together, with him.

It's busy in Jungkooks apartment- something thats unusual, considering that technically, the young man lives alone, doesn't really fuck around, and works at home as well ever since he took on the job as a web-designer. There was no reason to cause such an amount of stress in his home- other than the simple fact of his best friend currently pacing around, steps so fast and hard that Jungkook scared his flooring would soon melt underneath the older ones shoes he didn't take off in a rush. There were bags on his couch, bags on his counter, and a backpack somewhere in his living room- all because of;

"Okay so, she's okay with eating almost everything BUT!" Taehyung holds his finger up as if he's lecturing a child in front of him- which he's not, Jungkook is a full grown adult at this point, and looks at him unimpressed with furrowed brows as his older friend lists up things he needs to keep in mind for the hybrid he's looking after for the day. "Please make sure she's hydrated, she tends to forget to drink during the day. If she does and gets a headache there's medication in the bag that I've put on the couch- you've seen it right? Should I show you again?" He stresses, and Jungkook holds his friend's shoulders for a moment.

"Can you like, breathe for a moment please?" He says, and Taehyung nods, following the instructions for a moment before Jungkook continues. "Okay great. Now that you're not hyperventilating anymore I can tell you that yes, I've seen the bag-" He says, pointing towards the couch that's littered with so many things it seems like he's giving the hybrid up for adoption today instead of just dropping her off until tomorrow. "Second of all, I've taken care of Yoongi before and he's still alive, what's so different? Just because she's a bunny- or was it hare- wait is there a difference..?" Jungkook drawls off, suddenly thinking and not quite remembering if he's ever quite asked himself the difference of these two things. Taehyung however seems offended by that.

"Jungkook, she's a BUNNY, not a hare! That's a HUGE difference!" He whines out, and Jungkook looks at him a bit sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Oh god maybe I shouldn't go, this is a bad idea.." He says, already taking out his phone to cancel the date he has tonight, but jungkook holds the elders friend before he can make that mistake. Taehyung was a busy man, running a hybrid rehabilitation center in Seoul and Daegu- while talking to Busan's department for partnership. He really loves his job- but sometimes he gets too invested in it, just like now. He's finally got a date for himself after years of being alone; but he almost shot the poor woman down when he remembered that you, a newly rescued hybrid was staying at his home- something he never did before. Sure, he had taken over the rehabilitation of hybrids before, but he had never ever taken a case home with him. But after meeting you, seeing you, and knowing what you've been put through, his heart simply couldn't leave you at the shelter- even though he knew that it was probably the best place to be for you. But he had done what he had done now- there was no turning back with you. He couldn't leave you alone yet, so Jungkook had volunteered to look after you for the day and night, until Taehyung would pick you up the next day. The younger one had always looked after Yoongi, a cat hybrid later on adopted by Jung Hoseok, a friend of both of them; so he personally felt good about taking you in.

It was just for a day- what could go wrong?

"Come on, don't you trust me? Or is she like, super aggressive or something?" Jungkook asks, and Taehyung sighs. He hasn't told the younger one much about you, believing it was bad karma to talk about others when they weren't present. Yet this time he'd have to make an exception- because Jungkook needed to know at least some things about you and where you came from. Everything else would be unfair.

Taehyung sighed. "She's a category 3, so she's still recovering from her past home. She's just.. super shy and timid, and gets scared pretty easily so, I'm just terrified Jungkook. I know you don't want to cause any harm, but what if something happens and she just falls back? She's come so far these days, you should've seen her when I got her.." He said, and Jungkook looked at him- the eyes of the younger serious, reminding Taehyung that deep inside, he was more than just a schoolfriend. "When she got to me, she didn't even know how to use cutlery Kook. She.." But Jungkook smiled, placing a hand to his friend's shoulder in reassurance.

"I get it. I'll do my best, okay?" He says. "I promise I'll call you as soon as something's up, okay?" He says, and Taehyung nods. With a small wave he leaves the apartment to pick you up from the shelter- and Jungkook, in exchange, began to rummage through the plastic bags Taehyung had dumped onto his couch.

He was familiar with hybrids to some degree- he never really had owned one, and neither did his family. He knew that his brother owned a dog hybrid, but he had yet to bring him to family gatherings; Jungkook had never seen the puppy hybrid himself. His parents however said that she was nice, and Jungkook never really had any bad experiences with them. He sometimes visited Taehyung at work and conversed with some of the more chatty hybrids.

He was familiar with caring for them to some degree. As already stated before, he'd looked after 'grumpy-cat' Yoongi a lot back in the days when he was still in the center for rehabilitation. Jungkook knew about their different preferences in food, and their different behaviors. He, sadly, also knew about the mistreatment most of the hybrids went through before getting to the center into Taehyungs and his Staff's care- and he always hated it. The stories he sometimes heard made him sleepless during the night, made him research donation websites just to cleanse his mind for the moment.

But it only ever lasted until the next case would turn up at Taehyung's doorstep.

Quite frankly, Jungkook didn't know what he'd expected. After all, he'd never seen you in person, he simply went after Taehyungs description of you, but what was now standing at his door, was something that erased any thought he may had prior to opening it.

You were so.. delicate? Cute? He's never used the word 'cute' for a person before, because he simply thought aegyo and all of that was something girls put up for a facade of innocence. He hated that with a passion, cringing any time he saw it- yet there was, in his opinion, no other word that described you better. You were just as shy as Taehyung said, yet you forced yourself to bow a little as a greeting, taking a small step back however when Jungkook snapped out of his thoughts and opened the door fully to step aside. He threw a smile your way, hoping it could ease your nerves a little- and it seemed to work, because he saw your lips turn a bit upwards into a shy smile.

He felt as if he'd just won a ranked overwatch match against the seoul dynasty.

"Okay, I'm gonna pick you up tomorrow ASAP, okay? Are you gonna be fine here?" Taehyung asked you, and you looked over his shoulder- your bright eyes meeting Jungkooks, who was leaning against his kitchen counter, smiling boyishly while waving a little. It made you feel okay; he seemed nice enough, and after all, any friend of Taehyungs was a friend of yours. He'd taught you that. So you nodded, and Taehyung smiled, patting your head for a moment, your ears flopping to the sides before standing upright again after his hand left you. He waved goodbye and seemed a bit reluctant to leave- but you knew that Taehyung was excited for his date. He'd talked about nothing else these past days, and it made you happy to see him so giddy over something.

"So." Jungkook started, his voice fitting him, you thought. He looked fit, and comfortable to you- his oversized sweater probably big enough for you to hide in. Wait- what was that thought?! You averted your eyes immediately, ears shyly drooping backwards as you began to shuffle your fluffy socks on his wooden floor, the laminate suddenly super interesting. "Taehyung said you should have a nice healthy dinner- but I may forgot to buy groceries, so, is it okay for you to tag along?" He asked. "You can choose what you want to eat while we're at it, too." He said, and you perked up at that.

"I can?" You asked, ears slowly moving into a more confident position again, and he smiled at that achievement.

"Sure!" He exclaimed, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket, before he looked at you. You were staring at something- and as he followed your gaze, he saw your shoes. Simple sneakers in colors that fit your current clothes, but, was he connecting the dots correctly? He didn't want to offend you in case you were simply deep in thought, so he simply waited, slipping on his own shoes, as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes.

You really were struggling to tie your shoes.

So he simply sat down on the small step that divided his entrance from the rest of his apartment, and tapped the top of his knee. "Come here, I'll help." He said, and your eyes widened, shaking your head.

"I'll- I'll get your pants dirty.." You said worriedly, but Jungkook shook his head again.

"Don't worry about that." He said, and you hesitantly placed your shoe on his knee with just the very tip- something that made him smile a bit before he placed it down properly, tying the laces quickly.

"Sorry." You apologized, but he shook his head yet again as he tied the other.

"It's fine." He simply said, before you both got up, going outside. "Do you, uhm.." He began, nervously picking on the slight fuzz of his skin against his chin before he finished, by holding his hand out. "You know, so you don't, accidentally get lost or something. Taehyung would kill me." He laughed, and you blushed, before hesitantly taking his larger hand, holding it as he walked to the nearby grocery store with you.

Inside, it was busy as usual- but Taehyung typically didn't take you out during these hours, something about you maybe becoming overloaded by sensations and sounds. You've never been to a grocery like this before though- because while yes, it was a lot, Jungkooks hand never left yours even for a second. He calmly explained things you seemed interested in, and his entire presence calmed you down, even though you didn't really know him at all.

But your instincts were telling you that he was a good person; and until now, they had never been wrong.

"So, which one do you like?" He asked, pulling you from your thoughts as you were drifting off a little. He smiled at you, while you were looking at the shelves, pointing towards a pack of ramen. You've never tried it, but you had been interested when you saw them at Taehyungs place once or twice- however, back then you had been too shy to ask if you could maybe try it sometimes. "Hmm.. you sure about this one? It's pretty spicy sweetheart." He said, letting the petname slip as your ear flinched a bit into his direction, eyes widening a bit. Taehyung sometimes called you sweetheart as well- but somehow, in some weird way, it made you feel all tingly inside hearing it from Jungkook. "Uhm.. maybe, I can buy this one, and this chicken flavoured one- you can taste mine, and if you like it, we can switch. Okay?" He explained, and you nodded, not really listening anymore as you looked at him with an almost fascinated expression.

Taehyung had told you he had never truly taken care of a female hybrid, let alone a rehab-case such as you were. But he seemed so nice, so sweet, it was hard to imagine him not owning a hybrid- or being single. While Taehyung had never outright said that Jungkook was, you assumed so by the hints you noticed here and there. No other scent than his in his home, and you also remember Taehyung teasing the younger yesterday over the phone, saying something that at least Taehyung was getting himself some dating action.

For some weird reason, knowing that Jungkook didn't have a partner made you feel nice.

But then you remembered his words. "But- what will you eat if I eat yours?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"We'll simply switch then. I don't mind." He says, placing both packs in the shopping cart as you watched him. Your old home hadn't been too kind to you, yet you still didn't know anything else than the treatment you got back there. It was still new to you how easy going some people were, how much freedom you actually had. You've seen kids on swings last week, and a girl feeding a stray cat in an alleyway. Those were things you've never seen before.

"Okay, now the fun part." He says, and you look up at him, his head nodding towards something specific.

Icecream.

Your eyes widened seeing all the different packages and flavours, making your ears droop a bit in confusion. You were lost; what should you choose? You didn't know any of these except some flavors Taehyung had at his house. Jungkook, already connecting the dots, opens one of the doors. "Do you like fruity things? I personally like mild flavors, like vanilla." He says, picking a box of two separate containers. "How about this one?" He asks, and you nod excitedly.

"Yes please.!" You say, pretty much vibrating on the spot as Jungkook places the box into the cart, making an elderly lady next to the two of you chuckle.

"So sweet. And great manners too!" She says, before a hybrid walks up to her; his bright orange badge showing that the dog hybrid was a service worker. "Take good care of her, young man, yes?" She says, and Jungkook nods, squeezing your hand a little tighter as you both watch the lady getting escorted towards the cashiering section.

Jungkook had honestly never really thought about taking care of his own hybrid. He always worried that his friend's teasing was actually real- that he was too immature to quite take care of another living being except his own. Depp down he knew of course that he was capable of that, but insecurities sometimes still bit at his soul from the inside. He couldn't do much about that- he was a hopeless person in that department; still believing in love at first sight, and that human-hybrid relationships are nothing weird.He secretly loved romantic dramas, read shōjo mangas at the bookstore whenever he was too scared to buy them- afraid of being teased for it. He hated perfumes, enjoyed soft smells and fabrics, and even knew how to braid hair. He may looked like a typical muscle-head; with nothing filling his brain apart from protein powder and the need to work out and survive off of energy drinks and leftover cup noodles, but that wasn't really who he was. He simply liked to take care of himself, nothing more. He didn't work out for anyone but himself.

For some reason he enjoyed taking care of you like this. You were so sweet, so cute, that he couldn't help but already feel a little protective of you- that fact having only little to do with Taehyung. Maybe he simply needed a small push into the right direction to finally experience what it was like to have a hybrid, to test out what it was like to live with one.

But he didn't just want a hybrid, he noticed as he watched you carefully place the items of the shopping cart on the cash register, just like he'd asked you to do-

He wanted you.

He could feel someone staring at him. It was like it was piercing his neck, like laser dots on his skin, and it should freak him out like nothing else if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it couldn't be any other than you. He looked at the pot he was putting water in, the reflection showing your form sneakily watching him from the entrance of the kitchen. He chuckled. "Hm.." He began, dramatically sighing. "I wish there was a certain sweet bunny hybrid here to help me cook.. but I guess she's too busy.." He hummed, as he made sure the water in the pot was enough for one pack, before he turned around, your form now standing a few steps behind him. "Oh?" He said, acting surprised as you shyly smiled.

"Can I help.?" You asked, and he nodded, patting the counter to which you walked, squeaking cutely as he simply turned you around with gentle hands, lifting you up to sit between the stove on one side, and the sink on the other. You'd somehow come to the conclusion already that he was quite strong- but the short taste you got of his strength made your heart race a little. It was instinctively, really; your kind looked for partners with certain attributes, after all. They were supposed to protect you and your offspring at some point- even though that part made you look at your knees in shame, before Jungkook snapped you out of your thoughts before they could sway.

"Can you open the packages for me?" He asks, and you nod, taking them out of his hands and opening the foil carefully. You take out the still hard noodles before the flavor pack falls out, slapping on the floor as it falls down out of your hand. Jungkook however doesn't scold you- simply picks it up and gives it to you, and you look at him for a moment- watching him for any indication that he's mad. But he's not.

It's as if nothing had happened.

So you put the flavor pack and tiny oil package on top of the noodle blocks, so carefully Jungkook has to force himself not to just simply scream from how concentrated you look doing something so simple. "When the water boils, like, when it bubbles a lot, you can put these packs in, alright?" He says, and you nod, as if he's giving you instructions on how to prepare for war. He can't help himself at that moment, grinning so hard his dimples show as he reaches out to pet your head.

It's a little like Taehyung, but it feels a lot different.

With Taehyung, while you do feel safe and comfortable around him, and it feels nice, it's not at all like Jungkook. The younger one makes your heart race. He makes your pride swell, and your eyes sparkle- it's as if you've been given an award for the greatest achievement ever. You almost whine when he lets go.

So you later on put the packs into the boiling water with so much precision, immediately seeking his approval right after, to which he smiles at you. "Good job, Bunny." He says, and pets your head, absentmindedly moving the palm of his hand from the top of your head to instead cradle your cheek. Its such a soft and gentle touch that you almost go limp- closing your eyes and leaning into it. He only notices that when he looks back from the pots- now turned down a bit to a simmer as to not overcook- and his heart surely bursts in that moment.

You look so.. there's no word in Jungkooks head to properly describe the view he has, that image of you in front of him. He can't help himself- begins to trace his thumb against the soft skin, watching your ears relax and flop down. He can't imagine that someone like you could ever be done harm to; and while he doesn't know much about your past, he's sure it hadn't been pretty. It makes him want to just keep you right here, in his apartment, close to him, where he can make sure no one could ever cause you to be upset.

Both of you are abruptly pulled out of your thoughts by his phone ringing, the device so badly placed that it falls down to the floor after vibrating a few seconds. "Fuck!" He exclaims, picking it up and sighing in relief when it turns out to still be without damage. He takes on the call, and on the other side of the line, is Taehyung. He greets his younger friend, instantly asking him if you're okay- if you've eaten yet, drank anything, if you're homesick- all in one breath, it seems. Jungkook chuckles, simply placing a hand on your knee, thumb again tracing a pattern he's unsure of what its supposed to be. The warmth seeps into your skin through the fabric of your clothing. He smiles at you, and for the first time, maybe because you're feeling so.. smitten with him, you smile back. Not just a shy little lift of your lips, but a full on beaming smile, making his hand reach out to brush along your ear- internally gasping at how soft the fur is. How can something be this soft?! "Taehyung, she's fine. We're making ramen right now, she helped me cook, and afterwards we're gonna have icecream and watch a movie or something." He explains, and Taehyung claps back with something along the lines of 'but don't let her have the spicy stuff, she can't handle that-' but the younger one doesn't listen that much anymore. "Yeah yeah, listen, we're fine. Go get your girl, jesus." He laughs, and Taehyung chuckles as well, hanging up after reminding him to get you to bed at a reasonable time- as if you're a child he's taking care of.

Because that's the thing. You're not a child- and in Jungkooks eyes, you're not a pet. You're so sweet and easily interested in the simplest of things, he can't help but wonder if you had any hobbies. Did you like video games? Or drawing? Were you into books- hell, could you even read? He wanted to know so much more about you than just those tiny breadcrumbs of info he had gotten from Taehyung. He dearly hoped that maybe, maybe you would like to see him again after leaving tomorrow. He really hoped.

And as you ate, shaking your head at Jungkooks spicy ramen after tasting the broth a little from his spoon (which he did make sure to blow on as to not have you burn your tongue, bless his heart), he really did hope.

He really hoped that maybe, you felt just as happy around him as he felt around you.

It seemed that going grocery shopping, cooking, and eating icecream had taken its toll on you. Your eyes were practically falling shut every few seconds, yet you tried to stay awake as much as possible. Jungkook smiled at you, brushing some hair back before he moved your shoulder a bit. "Hey, bunny?" He asked, and you nodded, humming a noise of yes, you heard him. He chuckled. "You'll have to get up baby. I have to prepare the couch for you." Typically, it would be normal to give a guest the bed- if he was being a gentleman. But that was what he was being; because his couch was the most comfortable thing in his entire apartment for that matter. Yet maybe it was the sleep inside your bones making you drowsy, but you shook your head. "Hm?" He asks, and you suddenly move.

You shuffle around, suddenly hugging him tightly, head hidden in his chest as you rub your nose against the soft fabric of his shirt for a moment. "Don't wanna." You complain, and he swears he dies and gets ressurected all at once seven times in total at your next words. "Wanna sleep with 'koo." You drawl, and he knows he should not let you. You're not thinking clearly- but he can't deny you anything when you're like this, it seems. You've got him wrapped around your little finger, tightly, with no chance of escape.

So he gently picks you up after turning off the TV, bringing you to his bedroom, where he puts you on the bed, your tired form struggling to stay seated. He picks out a shirt of his to wear, and a pair of your shorts out of your backpack Taehyung has left for you. "Sweetheart, can you change for me?" He asks, and you simply let yourself playfully fall ontop of his mattress, making him sigh. You're going to be the death of me. "Oh really now?" He says, before he crawls over you, with the intention to tickle you a little awake- but he stops in his tracks. In fact, time seems to stop as well, as your eyes stare at him, so big and full of wonder he almost can't stop himself from looking at your lips.

But its you who shyly- and so quickly he almost doesnt catch it- pecks his lips before sneakily slipping out his grasp, taking your clothes with you into the bathroom, leaving him on the bed. He sits down, touching his lips for a second, absolutely unsure if he'd just experienced this, or if he had just had a fever dream of some sorts.

It's only when he notices you don't emerge from the bathroom, that he moves. He gently knocks at the wooden door, asking for you, but you don't answer. "I'm gonna open the door, okay?" He says, and does so seconds after, spotting you sitting on the tiled floor- now dressed in his sweater and your shorts, ready for bed. He notices however how you're hiding in the sweater- the hood covering your ears, while your hands shield your face. "Whats wrong?" He asks as he squats down in front of you, his hands gently pulling yours away from your face. You're not crying, thank god, but the look on your face speaks entire novels about how embarrassed you feel.

"M'sorry." You say, and pout, and he shakes his head.

"Don't be." He simply answers, helping you stand up after a moment. "Why do you feel bad?" He asks, and you shrug your shoulders.

"I just.." You start, but suddenly your eyes grow glossy. "I miss Taehyung-" You say, and Jungkook's heart drops for a moment. "-but I also don't wanna go home tomorrow." You finish, and Jungkook blinks twice, before he looks at you, confused. You didn't want to leave? Him? "I.. no, it's fi-"

"Say it." He demands- its not harsh, its not even loud, its almost just a whisper, tuneless words pressed out in a breath of air. "Don't keep it in- say it." He prompts you, and you swallow, not looking at him.

"I wanna stay with you." You say.

And he swears, the pain in his heart was the sweetest he'd ever felt.

The next day, after breakfast, Jungkook and you sit on his living room floor, him teaching you how to build a rubber powered plane- the one's he used to make as a kid. He'd kept a kit in his apartment back when he moved out of his family home but never got around to really use it. It was the perfect opportunity for you to enjoy the things you had missed out on in your life. He loved the way you so intensely watching his every move as he showed you how to put the pieces together. "And that's gonna fly?" You ask curiously, leaning over a bit as to get a better look at it.

"Hmhm." He says, holding it up, before giving it to you. "Here, turn this part until you can't anymore." He says, and you start twisting it for a while. "Don't worry, you can't break it." He says when you hesitate a little. He highly doubts you'll be able to snap the rubber band. "Tight?" He asks, checking, before he nods, standing up. "Lets go fly it outside!" He says, opening the glass door to the small backyard of his apartment. "And- Go!" he says, and you throw it just how he showed you minutes prior; letting it fly for a good moment before it landed.

"It flew!" You exclaimed happily, and he laughed as well, congratulating you as if you had just won a competition. He held you tightly to his body for a moment after you had jumped into his arms- and that was how you just stood there for a moment, simply existing, holding each other. For you, this was a moment of realizing that no, you're not alone. You're not useless, you're not just a pet, you're not just existing for someone's enjoyment. You had this one person at your side now, someone you could count on, someone to make you feel safe. And for him? Weirdly enough, he felt like the male lead of a romantic drama show- finally getting the happy ending he always craved in his life. He never knew what exactly he always wanted from his time here on earth. Was it success? Was it money? A big apartment, a nice home, a lot of friends? No, it was building a blanket fort with you in his living room. It was going to the grocery store with you, protecting you from big dogs that scared you, or holding you during the night. Every cheesy romantic thing he could imagine, now always featured you in his head; and it just, fit. It fit perfectly.

You fit into his life just perfectly.

It's later that day when Taehyung picks you up that he realizes that yes, he's positively in love with you. Because how can he not fall in love with those glistening eyes, hand waving goodbye for now because of course he can't just keep you like he wants to. There's paperwork involved, and your things need to be moved to his place- all of that needing to wait for social services to check his home, so that they can make sure he's really the right fit for you. It's then that he finally lets everything sink in, finally lets him think about what's going to happen, whats going to change.

And for the first time, he couldn't wait for it. He couldn't wait for things to change.

Jungkook baked you a small cake for your welcoming into his home- finally yours as well, as you hug Taehyung for the last time, the older friend waving before the door closes, Jungkooks arms instantly pulling your back into his chest. He leans his head down, kissing your shoulder, before he runs his sensitive lips over the so unbelievably soft fur of your ears. Three weeks had passed, yet to him it had felt like an entire year. Jungkook was sometimes impatient, and waiting had been pure torture for him. So now, as he was finally able to hold you again, he felt his entire stress vaporize into nothingness.

You giggled, before turning around, hugging him fully, and rubbing your face into his sweater, as if to get your scent onto him. Which was exactly your plan- after all, he was your human now, officially yours, so everyone should know that. The rumble in his chest that was his chuckle made you smile widely, grinning as you looked up at him, chin resting on his chest.

Oh may god have mercy on his soul!

He leaned downwards, finally capturing your lips with his, the first real long kiss to be shared between the two of you. Both of you melted into the sweet gesture, your ears falling down lazily as he showered you in affection; kisses to your nose, your cheeks, and your lips again. He continued until the corners of your eyes gathered tears from laughing so much.

This was how you were supposed to be. You were never supposed to cry because you were upset-

the only tears you should ever have to shed, should be tears of happiness.

(c) Bonny-Kookoo. Please do not translate, re-post or claim as your own. Thank you for reading- and please stay happy and healthy.

[smartycvnt]

Dialogue Prompts

I should only need the number and line, but it'd be helpful if you put the category too for requests.

Updated - 04/06/22

Angst

“There’s been an accident.” 

“I’m not going to make it.” 

“So that’s it, you’re just giving up like that?” 

“C-can we fix this?” “No, you made sure of that.” 

“You have to keep living your life, there’s no point in letting this take both of us.” 

“I just don’t love you anymore.” 

“We were delusional to think it was ever gonna work out. It just wasn’t supposed to be.” 

“They said that only one of you would make it.” 

“I don’t want to be here anymore!” 

“Where are you going?”

“We were going to be a happy family, all three of us.” 

“Fuck this.” 

“Please don’t cry.” 

“Everything’s going to be fine eventually.” 

“I thought if I could make you feel how I did, maybe we’d be able to move on.”

“I gave you everything, and it was never going to be enough.” 

“You were supposed to be the one who never hurt me!” 

“I don’t know if you can really hear me, but I love you and I don’t want to do this.” 

“Sometimes, it’s easier to just not say goodbye.” 

“They always said I had one foot in the grave.” 

“I’m not ready yet.” 

“I can’t stand here while you do this to yourself. Not now, not anymore.” 

“You tried buying my love instead of just loving me back.” 

“We’re not done here!” “I’m done with you.” 

“Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave me here like this.” 

“What’s going to happen to me?” 

“It was an accident.” “Well, she’s still dead and I’m still here.” 

“I don’t want to see you ever again.” 

“I hope the two of you are happy, really.” 

“It wasn’t scary until you came into my life.” 

“Don’t you remember who I am?”

“Walk away, that’s what you’re good at.” 

“I’m sorry.” “A half-assed apology isn’t gonna fix anything.” 

“You used to be my safe place. Now I get sick to my stomach when I think about you.” 

“What happened to forever?”

“Just stop.” 

“Sometimes, you stay with someone because it’s safe.” 

“It’s too much, I just can’t anymore.” 

“The wedding is next weekend, and it would mean a lot if you were there.” 

“That was almost us.” “What happened?” “Convenience happened.” 

“We did everything that we could.” 

“I don’t want to look at a picture of you and wonder what could have been.” 

“It’s not that we don’t love each other anymore, it’s just that we aren’t good together like we used to be.” 

“Look, I know I’m not doing well, and I know that it’s getting worse every day.” 

“I don’t want to go alone.” “Just close your eyes and we’ll be together before you know it.” 

“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” “Maybe you never did in the first place.” 

“It’s a different time, we don’t have to just fix it.” “But you don’t have to just give up like that either.” 

“Come on, you promised you wouldn’t quit on me.” 

“Look around, we’ve never been happy!” 

“It’s the first time we’ve seen her since everything happened.” 

“I can’t look at you and not see what you did.” 

“Don’t turn this on me!” 

“It’s been the best three months of my life, I want you to know that.” 

“One day, you’ll be a hero just like they were.” 

“We have to talk about it eventually.” “And it’ll be too soon.” 

"Come on, you know I can't lose you."

"You knew what this was." "And you told me that you loved me."

"It's hard, but one day I'll just be a story you tell someone else."

"This was a mistake." "Don't say that." "But it's true. It's a mistake. We were a mistake."

"Not like this."

Fluff

“I think this calls for a blanket fort.”

“Hey, you’ve got a hand, I’ve got a hand. It’s pretty cold out here, maybe we should hold hands.” 

“You have to pay the kiss toll.” 

“I told you that it was gonna be cold.” “Shut up and give me your jacket.”

“Pssh, you only won because you used Kirby. I want a rematch.” 

“10 more minutes.” “You said that two hours ago.”

“I’m not doctor, but I diagnose you with terminal cuteness.”

“You like my sweater, it’s boyfriend/girlfriend material.” 

“I always do my morning run in the dog park, that’s why it takes me almost two hours for one mile.” 

“Get dunked on son!” “You missed the layup.” 

“Not to brag, but I am proficient in several TikTok dances.” 

“I won Rainbow Road, and we had a deal, so snuggle up.” 

“Hmm, that blanket is a bit small, you might have to lay a little closer.” 

“That wasn’t so scary.” “Speak for yourself, I’m calling the Ghost Hunters.” 

“Good morning. I think I’m still banned from the kitchen, so it’s time for you to wake up now.” 

“Pretty sure that’s not enough room for Jesus.” 

“You love me? Wow, that’s embarrassing.” 

“Can you go back to pretending to be asleep? I don’t have a cute sleeping picture for this Instagram post.” 

“I’ll have you know that I am a straight G.” “You, straight?”

“You’re lucky I love you enough to do this.” 

“I can’t believe out of the two of us, you’re the one whose father actually played catch with them.” 

“I feel bad for you, you’re gonna have the hottest mom in the entire school, shoulda named you Stacy.” 

“Oh my god, are you crying?” “He’s dead.” “No he’s not, you’ve seen Lilo and Stitch before!” 

“Do you think these dance lessons include twerking?”

“Is that a dog?” “Her name is Lucky.” 

“Scary Movie marathon motherfucker!” 

“Have I told you that your arms are looking especially good today?” “What do you want?”

“Excuse you, but I am a prime example of athleticism and grace.” “Yesterday you tried jumping over the couch and broke your foot.” 

“I swear to god I’ll take this turn so sharp that you fall out of the golf cart.” 

“Get off of me. It’s dangerous to cuddle during a heatwave.” 

“It’s a nice summer day, let’s go do something.” “There’s a heat advisory, let’s stay inside.” 

“I’m pretty sure that your hoodie has pockets too. You don’t need to put yours in mine.” 

“Oh look, it’s my wife.” 

“You, tiny sir, are a menace to society.” “Don’t talk to the cat like that!” 

“Don’t panic, but there’s are a bunch of strangers in your living room wearing suits.” 

“What were you wearing?” “It was the 90s.” 

“Not a cuddler my ass.” 

“I can’t believe it.” “You can’t believe what?” “I’m your wife, like we’re really married.” 

“Good morning gorgeous.” 

“The general rule is no shenanigans until the second cup of coffee.” 

“Can we go now?” “I don’t know, that car seat is a little wobbly.” 

“Aren’t you the cutest Chucky Doll anyone’s ever seen?” 

“And you said you didn’t want a dog.” 

“Excuse me, my wife needs some extra napkins. Do you think you could get those, for my wife?” 

“Why is there a gold star sticker on your forehead?” “Because I’m a good noodle, come on keep up.” 

“Is that...” “Yes, it’s a baby. No, it isn’t mine.” 

“I don’t think that this fire was completely my fault.” 

“It’s giving thanks.” “I’m going to leave you at the fire station again.” 

“Hey, you’re just like, the love of my life. No big deal or anything.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Is it going to hurt?” “Not any more than getting shot did.” 

“Hi baby, you’re so tiny. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you safe until you’re big and strong.” 

“Turn the Lion King music off and just tell me that the baby is awake please.” 

“Hi, so they were out of milk at the store, but I found a dog.” 

“This is fine, we’re professionals. We work for a living. I’ve faced bigger fish than this before.” “Do you want me to hold your hand?” “Yes please.” 

“I don’t know what your mother was thinking, letting me babysit you for the day.” 

“So, we learned a new word today.” “Oh really, what is it?” “Fuck!” 

“When we get married, let’s do something simple. I’m fine with the courthouse and Red Lobster.” 

“Where did you get that?” “It’s a long story, but did you know our downstairs neighbor is a drug dealer?” 

“We might be felons now, but on the bright side, you look gorgeous.” 

Smut

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

“Now why don’t you just sit that pretty little pussy on my face.” 

“Keep quiet, you wouldn’t want anyone to know what I’m doing to you, would you?”

“Desperation suits you well baby.” 

“We’ll see how fun being such a brat is when I get you home.” 

“Mine.” 

“Again already?” “What can I say?” 

“When your legs are slung over my shoulders, you aren’t in any position to be making demands.” 

“When I told you to fuck me, I meant it.” 

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours.” 

“Look at you, humping my thigh in the back of the car like a little slut.” 

“Please.” “I don’t know, only good girls get to cum.” 

“Sit still or get off of my cock.” 

“Don’t stop now, I do love a good show.” 

“You just love the feeling of my hand wrapped around your throat don’t you?

“I think you’d look quite darling with the two of you fucking you.” 

“Use me.” 

“If you don’t quiet down, I’ll gag you with your own panties.” 

“Did you think I was kidding when I told you I’d bend you over my knee?”

“Such a good little slut. That’s right, suck it clean.” 

“I love it when I can taste myself on you.” 

“I’ve been thinking about burying myself in you all day.” 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just keep looking at me.” 

“What’s wrong? Just a moment ago, you were begging to cum.” 

“You aren’t tied up because you were being good.” 

“Oh yeah, just like that.” 

“I’m being a good girl.” “Yeah, then why do you sound like such a brat?”

“All these people and not a single one of them knows what I’m doing to you.” 

“Stop squirming or I’ll turn it up.” 

“Such a pretty thing, spread out on my lap like this.” 

“Quit whimpering or I’ll gag you.” 

“She likes it when you’re a little rough with her.” “Like this?” “Yeah, like that.” 

“I didn’t think I could do that.” “I knew you had it in you.” 

“Please, I want to use the strap this time.” 

“Open up because it’s only getting as wet as you make it.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with being easy honey, it’s how I like you.” 

“I love you.” “You’re just saying that because I made you cum.” 

“A little pain can go a long way in terms of pleasure.” 

“You’re just as desperate to fuck me as I am to be fucked, so let’s not beat around the bush.” 

“So wet and ready, just like a good slut should be.” 

“I’ll do whatever you want if you ask nicely.” 

“Don’t be afraid, I can take it.” 

“Quiet, can’t have the whole floor knowing how much of a slut you are.”

“It would be wise for you to remember who’s in charge here.” 

“It’s not the same without you touching me.” “I know but close your eyes and pretend I’m here baby.” 

“Stop squirming or I’ll have to add five more.” 

“I think you can take a little more, don’t you?” “Y-yes, please.” 

“I suppose you’ve been good enough for a reward.” 

“Tell me how it feels.” “It feels so good. I need more.” 

“Lick it up.” 

“I did warn you that I’d tie you up if you didn’t behave, didn’t I?

“So many toys, so little time.” 

“Close your eyes again and I swear to god I’ll stop.” 

“Good job baby, just one more for me.” 

“I love it when you put yourself on display for me like this.” 

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.” 

“Behave.” “Where’s the fun in that?” “Orgasms.” 

"Oh honey, I'm going to ruin you."

"Please, be a little louder. I want the world to know how much of a slut for me you are."

"Show me how much you want it."

[musette22]

Local museum volunteer Chris explaining all the items and history facts to teacher Sebastian and his 20 kids on a school trip or to single dad Sebastian and his twins (one who is really into it and ask a lot of "but why?" And the other one who just sticks his fingers up his nose and yawns lmao)

Okay so I was just on a walk and I started thinking about this ask again (I am so so so sorry for how long it took me to reply to this, I suck wow) because I couldn’t get that new pic of Seb looking like a literal DILF out of my head, but I couldn’t remember the specifics so what came out is slightly different from what you suggested but not much – hope you still like it (I personally screamed into my fist multiples times while thinking about this – I’m furious at how cute this little scenario is, thank you so so much for this!)

Disclaimer: I literally wrote this just now so it’s unbeta’d and probably riddled with nonsense, but I hope you guys like nonetheless!  <3

*********************

“Hi, guys! Welcome to the Concord Museum. My name is Chris and I’ll be your guide this afternoon.”

Chris eyes the little family – a father and two young kids – standing in front of him in the entrance hall of the bite-sized museum, then makes a show of looking around the otherwise empty hall. “Seems like it’s a quiet one today, so you’ll have me all to yourself!”

The father smiles, his sparkling, blue-grey eyes crinkling in the corners in a way that Chris shouldn’t be thinking of as ‘adorable’, but does nonetheless.

“Fantastic,” the man says warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Chris. This is Margot,” – he gestures to the girl of about eight standing next to him – “and this little guy here is David,” he adds, lightly bouncing the three or four-year-old, curly haired boy on his hip. David gives Chris a wide eyed look before promptly burying his face in his father’s neck. “He’s a little shy,” the dad says fondly.

“That’s fine,” Chris tells them. With a smile, he ducks his head to try and catch David’s eye. “You’re not the only one, kiddo. I’m a little shy myself sometimes, you know.”  

“I’m not shy,” Margot pipes up.

“No,” her dad agrees with a chuckle, “you certainly are not.”

Chris turns his eyes back to their father’s face. “And your name..?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man says, “I’m Sebastian.” He holds out his hand for Chris to shake, warm and dry with long, elegant fingers that fit nicely against Chris’s own, studier ones.

Sebastian, Chris thinks. Perfect name for a perfect guy. The term ‘DILF’ flashes unbidden through Chris’s mind – wildly inappropriate, given the circumstances, but oh so accurate. Sebastian has a sweet, charming smile, incredible bone structure, and dark, wavy hair, swept up in a quiff-like style that manages to make him look both sophisticated and a little boyish at the same time. There’s a hint of grey at his temples as well as in his beard that has Chris placing him at maybe two or three years older than himself.

“New York?” Chris guesses, as he reluctantly lets go of Sebastian’s hand.

“That’s right,” Sebastian nods. “Well, formerly, anyway. We just moved to the area, actually.”

“Oh, really? What brought you all the way out here?”

Sebastian runs a hand through his hair; a nervous habit, perhaps. “Oh, um. My ex-wife got a job in Boston last year, and I didn’t want to be too far from her and the kids, so I decided to follow suit. Only moved down here last month. This is my first full weekend with these guys at my new place, so I thought I’d take them out to do something cultural, learn a little about the local history, y’know?”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of that here,” Chris assures him. “In fact,” he adds sheepishly, “that’s kinda all we've got.”

Sebastian laughs, causing Chris’s brain to glitch, which is probably why the next thing that comes out of his mouth is – “Divorce, huh? I’m sorry, that must’ve been tough.”

When Sebastian doesn’t answer straight away, Chris wants to kick himself for running his big, stupid mouth. As usual. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes hastily. “That’s none of my business. Just tryin’ to make small talk, but I always seem to forget I’m really bad at that. Just forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Sebastian assures him, flashing Chris a quick smile. “Thank you. These things are never easy, but it’s better this way, you know?”

“They’re not fighting or anything,” Margot chimes in again, from a few feet below. “Mommy and daddy only got divorced because mommy’s a girl and daddy likes boys better than girls. Right, daddy?"

Well. Chris tries not to be too obvious about glancing at Sebastian’s face to see his reaction to that bombshell his daughter just dropped, but he’s not sure how well he manages.

Sebastian closes his eyes for a moment as if praying for strength. “That's right, sweetheart,” he says with a grimace. “But I'm sure Chris doesn't need to hear about all that."

Chris begs to differ – he’s actually extremely interested in hearing about all this, but before he has a chance to say anything in reply, Margot squares her jaw and crosses her football jersey-clad arms.

“Why not?” she asks defiantly. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Some girls just like girls and some boys like boys, it’s totally normal. It’s not prola- probu –" She sighs in frustration, looking up at her dad, who’s watching her with something like pride on his handsome face.

“Problematic?”

“Yeah,” Margot concurs, “not probametic.”  

Chris hums in agreement. “It’s not, you’re absolutely right. I’ll tell you what,” he tells her conspiratorially, “I happen to like boys better, too.”

Margot’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You do?”

“I do.”

Suddenly, Margot’s little face lights up, her shrewd eyes flitting to her dad’s face for a second, then back to Chris. “Do you like my dad?”

“Margot,” Sebastian cuts in, a hint of exasperation in his tone. “That’s enough, honey.” When he tuns back to Chris to give him an apologetic look, Chris can’t help but notice the slight blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m sorry about that. She’s gotten it into her head that she needs to find me the perfect man ASAP, or I’ll waste away or something.”

Chris laughs, throwing back his head in genuine mirth. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he assures them, then claps his hands together to change the precarious subject. “So, who’s ready to learn a little bit about what living in Concord was like over a hundred years ago?”

******

Chris always enjoys volunteering at the museum – it’s nice to give something back to the community that’s been his home for his entire life, and to chat to visitors from all over who have come to visit the land of Little Women, among other things – but what Chris likes best is when he gets to show kids around the place. Some of them need to be won over (after all, a dusty old museum isn’t quite as exciting as a trip to Disney World), but others are instantly captivated by the strange objects and old-timey atmosphere – Sebastian’s kids, fortunately, seem to fall in the latter category.

There’s one room in particular that’s an invariably a favorite with kids – the one that houses the old children’s toys. Trains, dolls and dollhouses, most of them made from wood, all arranged in a colorful parade, with a few screens set up in front of the glass display cases on which kids can watch animations of the toys being used. To Chris’s delight, Margot and David are both immediately taken with the display, David pressing his nose against the glass while Margot fires off question after question that Chris answers patiently and to the best of his ability.

“You sure know a lot about them,” Sebastian remarks, not without a hint of admiration, once Chris has finished explaining the mechanics of the miniature train set.

“Ah.” Chris rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess you could say I’m something of a toy enthusiast myself. I’ve actually got a carpentry workshop – that’s my real job,” he explains. “I’m just a volunteer here – and I dabble in some toy making sometimes, too.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding. I used to want to be a toy maker when I was a kid, you know,” he says wistfully. “Probably just saw Pinocchio one too many times, but it just seemed like the best job in the world to me, at the time.”

“It kinda is,” Chris grins at Sebastian, getting lost in his dancing grey eyes for a moment. “So what did you end up doing for a living, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a journalist. I love it, don’t get me wrong. It’s enriching, challenging. But there’s just something about working with your hands, creating something tangible, something useful…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Chris nods. He bites his lip, hesitating for just a moment before deciding to bite the bullet. “Hey, I don’t know if you guys have plans after this, but my shift ends in a few minutes. I live pretty close, maybe a ten minute drive – if you want, I could show you my workshop? Maybe the kids can try out some of the things I’ve been working on, see if they’re actually any fun to play with?”

There’s an excited collective gasp from the kids, both of them immediately turning big, hopeful eyes on their father. “Oh, daddy,” Margot pleads, tugging on his sleeve. “Can we go see the workshop, pleaaase?”  

Chris tries to ignore the way his stomach drops when Sebastian visibly hesitates.

“I don’t know, guys.” Sebastian looks back at Chris. “I don't want to intrude. It’s almost dinner time on a Saturday. I’m sure you’ve got plans, maybe with your partner..?”

Oh, Chris thinks, chest expanding with hope. He shakes his head. “No partner,” he says, holding Sebastian’s gaze. “Just a dog.”

“A dog?” Margot squeals. “Oh my god, daddy, he’s got a dog. We have to go.”

Sebastian chuckles, rolling his eyes. "They've been hounding me about a dog for months, excuse the pun. I want one too, but I'm just not sure I'm home enough.”

Chris nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it can be tricky if you work full-time, but there’s usually a solution for this kind of thing, in my experience.”

“What’s your dog’s name?” Margot interrupts, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“He’s called Dodger,” Chris tells her, unable to keep the pride out of his voice as he talks about his beloved, four legged-rescue.

From Sebastian’s other side, a small voice suddenly joins in. “Like the one from Oliver?” asks David. His big, brown eyes are wide as he stares up at Chris.

“That’s right,” Chris confirms, dropping to his haunches to level the playing field a little. “Exactly like the one from Oliver. You like that movie, huh?”

David nods, looping one arm around one of his dad’s long legs while clearly fighting the urge to hide behind him completely. “It’s my favorite,” he mutters, then quickly sticks his thumb in his mouth to signal the end of the conversation.

“Really?” Chris asks, beaming at him. “It’s my favorite, too!”

David actually smiles at that, doing an excited little wiggle on the spot. “Daddy, can we go see Dodger, please?” he asks his dad, not bothering to remove his thumb from his mouth.

From his spot on the floor, Chris looks up Sebastian too, probably looking just as hopeful as the kids are – maybe even more so.

Smiling, Sebastian shakes his head. “Sure, buddy,” he laughs, ruffling David’s hair. “How could I resist all these cute little faces, huh?”

There’s a chorus of cheers from the kids that gives Chris a much-needed moment to recover from the euphoria of hearing Sebastian call him cute. Well, sort of.

“Alright,” Chris says, getting to his feet again. “I’ll just go grab my things. Meet you guys in the parking lot?”

“Sounds good.”

Chris nods and is about to head in the direction of the staff room, when Sebastian halts him with a hand on his arm. Chris stops in his tracks, swallowing as he tears his gaze away from Sebastian’s elegant hand on his bicep, back to his face.

“Thank you,” Sebastian says, giving him a look from under his eyelashes that can only be described as coy. “I really appreciate this, you know.”

Holding Sebastian’s gaze, Chris lifts a hand to cover Sebastian’s with his own, giving it a quick squeeze. “It’s my pleasure,” he replies honestly. “Trust me.”

Smiling, Sebastian bites his lip, no doubt noticing the way Chris’s eyes flicker down to his mouth when he does. “I do.”

Chris’s foolishly romantic heart can’t help but skip a beat.

“See,” Margot says suddenly from beside them, breaking the moment and sounding awfully smug about it, too. “Not prolametic at all.”

Chris barks out a laugh while Sebastian covers his eyes with his hand. “Whatever you do, never have kids.”  

“Oh, I dunno,” Chris chuckles, giving Margot a wink and David’s hair a quick ruffle. “I kinda like yours.”

Sebastian clears his throat. “Alright, guys. Let’s go find your jackets and we’ll go see what Chris has in store for us, huh?”

[robininthelabyrinth]

Fire and Light (ao3) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3

- Chapter 4 -

Nie Mingjue attended his first discussion conference as a ward of the Wen sect rather than a son of the Nie sect and found it more or less the same misery as it had always been, except with the extra twist of everyone looking at him with pity in their eyes.

The Jiang sect averted their eyes the way they always did. For all his talk about attempting the impossible, the only impossible thing Jiang Fengmian had ever dreamt of was a peaceful life, and his wife was strong in power but bitter and vicious in spirit, parceling out her love and sympathy in small dollops as if she thought she would run out if she gave too much of it away. That being said, their indifference and purely superficial show of sympathy was still better than the steely eyes of the Jin sect, which looked right at him with nothing but empty calculation, as if weighing him to see what use they could get out of him.

Lan Qiren, at least, looked genuinely upset to see him standing there in Wen colors, a frown creasing his brow with distress. Nie Mingjue wondered cynically if the Lan sect would have preferred that he and his brother be dead as martyrs instead of living symbols of Wen cruelty that, despite all their high-flying talk of rules and ethics, the Lan sect would do absolutely nothing about.

Still, he had been the man’s student once, so he bowed his head politely and called him teacher when Lan Qiren came to speak with him during one of the rest periods between speeches.

“Are you well?” Lan Qiren asked. “You are not being mistreated…?”

“Would it make a difference if I was?” Nie Mingjue asked. When Lan Qiren flinched, he shrugged. “In that case, honorable teacher, I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my brother; he needs to be properly prepared for the competitions later.”

A flimsy lie, intentionally so, and Nie Mingjue wondered if he really had picked up something of Qishan Wen cruelty after all. It was only that it hurt him to see them there, standing free and saying nothing – the Lan had once been the closest allies of the Nie sect, just as the Jiang and the Jin were often paired together – and he couldn’t quite resist wanting to make them hurt, too, no matter how much he knew it was beneath him.

You were friends with my father and they murdered him, he wanted to shout. Murdered him, and I had to watch him die twice over! How can I be well? How can you dare to ask that of me, have you been well, as if I were still free to speak my mind, to be straightforward and honest, without having to always think of the pain that will follow later?

Maybe Wen Ruohan’s lessons really were starting to sink in, he thought bitterly, and hated himself for it.

He still didn’t apologize to Lan Qiren, but he did go to find Nie Huaisang, making the lie into truth. There wasn’t any point in registering his useless brother in any of the physical competitions, of course, but at every discussion conference there were also smaller competitions in the arts – calligraphy, painting, poetry – and Nie Mingjue was more than willing to lose a little of the pocket money he received each month (pointlessly, since he wasn’t allowed to leave the main manor or visit the markets of the Nightless City for fear that he would try to run away or make a scene) in betting on his brother’s success in those.

He also bet on Wen Qing in the competition of doctors’ apprentices, and Wen Ning in alchemy, archery and weiqi; he even put some money on Wen Chao for mathematics and told him so.

Wen Chao gaped at him. “Me? Mathematics?”

“You always answer those questions faster than anyone else,” Nie Mingjue pointed out, and patted him on the head the way Wen Chao not-so-secretly liked. “Do your best. If you place in the top twenty, I’ll have the kitchens make something sweet that you won’t have to share, something just for you.”

“…could I share it anyway? If I wanted to.”

“Of course,” Nie Mingjue said, pleased by the unexpected question and happy to show it. “It’ll be yours. You can do anything you want with it, even share.”

There weren’t even a full forty people planning to compete in mathematics, so he was moderately confident that Wen Chao – who wasn’t as stupid as he sometimes let himself think he was – would be able to place somewhere decent, and even if he didn’t Nie Mingjue wouldn’t hold it against him. He wouldn’t demand perfection and then ignore it the way Wen Ruohan did.

“Mingjue-xiong!”

Nie Mingjue turned to see Lan Xichen hurrying over, insofar as the Lan sect ever hurried. Lan Xichen’s younger brother was probably also getting ready for the arts competition – the two of them would undoubtedly dominate the juniors’ music competition, as they always did, and probably many of the other juniors’ categories as well – so it wasn’t a surprise to see him there, but it was still nice. They’d only spent a few months together during the summer Nie Mingjue had spent at the Cloud Recesses, his father trying to get him away from politics for at least a short time, but they’d been friendly back then, maybe even friends, even though Lan Xichen was a couple of years younger than him.

“It’s good to see you,” Lan Xichen said, his voice warm. “I wanted to write you a letter, but everyone said it was a bad idea.”

“It probably is,” Nie Mingjue admitted. He didn’t even know what he’d say in response to such a letter – what he was allowed to say, and what he wasn’t. “It’s good to see you, too. Are you competing in the fights later on?”

“I am, though I’ve heard that the main competition this year – swordsmanship – is going to be melee style, which means you’re certain to wipe the floor with everyone. But I can at least hope to place, if nothing else.”

Melee style favored the saber and the aggressive style of the Nie, so Lan Xichen was probably right – it wasn’t as though the Nie sect had sent any disciples, given that it was still officially in mourning for its sect leader. Nie Mingjue should be in mourning, should be refusing to eat meat since he was too young for the obligation to refrain from sexual congress to matter much to him, but it had been pretty clear from his first day at the Nightless City that he would either eat meat or have it forced down his throat. In the end, he’d given up on all the rest of it as well. He could mourn later, when he was free.

Assuming he’d ever be free again.

“Pity you can’t bet on a competition you’re participating in,” he teased, and Lan Xichen did him the grace of at least pretending to smile back. “Maybe you can get ahead of me in archery instead.”

Lan Xichen snorted at that. “I’m still counted among the juniors for archery, while you’re with the seniors,” he reminded him. “But somehow I don’t think that would make much of a difference.”

“I’m not that good at archery,” Nie Mingjue protested cheerfully. “Besides, I haven’t been allowed to practice it in months, not since –”

He stopped, realizing what he’d just said, and what he’d been about to say, from the way Lan Xichen’s face turned pale.

“Don’t think about it,” he advised his friend, turning his head away. He didn’t want to see Lan Xichen’s face like that, all sick with grief. “I try not to.”

Lan Xichen squeezed his hands. “You’re still yourself,” he said. “As long as you can keep true to that, nothing else matters.”

Nie Mingjue hoped he was right.

-

Nie Mingjue won the melee but lost in archery to Wen Xu, which was a result that pleased them both – Nie Mingjue was still growing and didn’t have the arm strength necessary to fully pierce the target, which gave Wen Xu’s equally accurate hits the small advantage needed to win.

“You’ll win it next time,” Wen Xu told him, and Nie Mingjue shrugged. “You will! You’ve grown nearly a quarter chi in the time that I’ve known you, and you weren’t short to start with.”

“And maybe next time the fighting won’t be melee,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “There are formats that favor the sword more.”

Not to mention that next time, the main event wouldn’t be the sword, since discussion conferences generally rotated between the various martial skills.

Wen Xu rolled his eyes at him, though, clearly disregarding his words, and Nie Mingjue didn’t disagree - despite his words, he was proud of what he’d achieved.

He was even more proud of the younger children, though: Wen Qing was first in her competition and pleased as a well-fed cat about it, Nie Huaisang had placed second in calligraphy and fifth in poetry, and Wen Ning had gotten seventh in alchemy, his best result in years given his usual anxiety about performing in public. Wen Chao was the biggest surprise, having actually managed to come in fourth in mathematics, and everyone crowded around him, congratulating him, even as he stumbled around in a daze.

“He’d never tried to do well before,” Wen Xu said, catching Nie Mingjue’s gaze and his train of thought with it. “There wasn’t any point, since Father doesn’t care about the smaller competitions, only the main event, and mathematics is never a main event.”

“Surely the fun of winning is motivation enough?” Nie Mingjue asked. “He did well enough this year without advance study that he’d be sure to place in the top three in the next discussion conference if he really put in some effort.”

“He didn’t actually think he’d win,” Wen Xu said dryly. “He just didn’t want you to lose money.”

Nie Mingjue was about to explain that he didn’t care about the money – he wasn’t allowed to go spend it, as Wen Xu knew, and he didn’t see much point in hoarding it when it could be taken away just as easily as it was given – but then the children saw them coming and ran over.

Nie Huaisang in the lead, shouting, “Da-ge! Da-ge! You won!”

“Of course he won,” Wen Chao snapped at him, but in a good-natured, excited sort of way. “Who else did you think was going to win?”

“We all bet on you,” Wen Qing told him.

“Oh, come now,” he protested. “Someone should have bet on Wen Xu!”

“I would have told them off if they had,” Wen Xu said. “Well done. How much did we win?”

“We? Wen Xu! You can’t bet on your own matches!”

“Oh no,” Wen Xu said drolly. “Is that so? My mistake. I must have missed that.”

“Can’t you at least try to make it sound convincing…?”

-

Wen Ruohan was pleased with the results of the discussion conference. He made them stand up and recite their accomplishments at dinner, nodding as they did, and when he was done treating them like dancing monkeys, he told Wen Xu, “Next time, you come in first,” and swept out without another word.

“What a shitheel,” Nie Mingjue said, a little blankly. To not even give a single word of praise…!

“He can hear you,” Wen Chao hissed, horrified, glancing at the door.

“He was talking about someone else,” Nie Huaisang said quickly. “That person back at the conference – you remember?”

“Of course, of course, yes, I remember,” Wen Qing said. “That person. He was definitely a shitheel.”

Nie Mingjue felt the warmth of their affection, and it only made Wen Ruohan’s negligence rub his heart the wrong way even more.

“You all did wonderfully,” he told them, since someone should. “And I have no doubt that you will do even better at the next conference. You should be proud of yourselves. I’m certainly proud of you.”

He remembered that much, at least, when he woke up two days later, the magnitude of the beating he’d received for his impertinence having apparently knocked the rest of the day cleanly out of his head. There was some more afterwards that he’d said, apparently, but he remembered the important point, and he didn’t want to press any further; the others looked so miserable already.

“Maybe this’ll teach you a lesson,” Wen Xu said, and flinched when Wen Chao kicked him in the shins and ran away sobbing. “I didn’t - I just meant…”

“No, no, I understand,” Nie Mingjue said. The advice had been meant kindly, even if it was phrased badly.

Wen Qing huffed. “I bet you don’t,” she said, rubbing her nose, her own eyes suspiciously red. “What is it exactly you think you’ve learned?”

“Wait until he’s out of earshot to call him a –”

“I am going to smother you with your own robes,” Nie Huaisang announced. “Or at least gag you for your own good. Who’s with me?”

Nie Mingjue raised his one hand that still worked in surrender at the array of murderous glares in front of him. “Don’t attack me, I’m injured?”

No one seemed very impressed with that argument.

“You can’t do that again,” Wen Ning said quietly. His fingers were tight on the blanket. “Okay? You need to be more careful.”

“I don’t know if I can be,” Nie Mingjue said honestly. He was born with a mind as straightforward as the clean slice of a saber – what he felt, he thought; what he thought, he said. He was trying to learn politics and diplomacy, but it was hard on him, difficult. He was not and would not ever be a subtle man. “I’ll try, though.”

“Good,” Wen Xu said. “We need you to stick around.”

Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure why – he felt more and more extraneous these days, with no sect of his own to inherit and little purpose to life other than his determination that Nie Huaisang, and now the others, live as good a life as possible under Wen Ruohan’s endless tyranny – but he nodded agreeably.

They didn’t seem quite satisfied with that.

[stuckinapatriarchalbullshitland]

Award shows - ɟ

Heeeelloo, my fellow CS 👋🏼

The idea for this post came to me because I recently saw again that some fans still can’t explain some things about the awards, therefore, I’m going to briefly explain the things I’ve read on which they’re still confused about so that maybe I’ll automatically answer some questions you guys have too.

First of all, celebrities, whether they’re actors, singers, models, heirs, fashion mavens, aristocrats, etc., are notified months before they’ve been invited. Usually, the reason why they were invited is written along with the invitation. The reasons obviously vary. They may have been invited because they were nominated for an award, or because, and they may accept or decline, they were asked to present a category or a performance, or to interview someone on the red-carpet or backstage, or to perform, etc., etc. They can also be added as I like to say ‘+1’. But be aware, there’s a difference between being invited as a ‘+1’ and as a guest.

‘Are they not the same thing?’ you’re probably wondering. No, they are not. Being invited as a guest is simply that. A celebrity who invites their partner, or their kid, or one of their parents, or a friend, as indeed their guest. The +1, on the other hand, is a term that I’m using because I don’t think there’s one to describe when a person who is also a celebrity is invited by another one. You know the seats they show us with pictures of celebrities and how some seats next to it lack these pictures? Those seats without pictures belong to the celebrity guests or their team members. If a celebrity invites another one, then next to their picture there will also be that of the celebrity they invited. Aka, the term I’m using in this case: the +1.

I’ll give you an example:

I’m a singer and my fake PR boyfriend has to perform that night, but I don’t, and neither have I been nominated for any awards and therefore not even invited. Also to keep up appearances of our relationship, I get invited as his +1. This means that you’re gonna see my picture next to his in the seats and the cameras will film me for literally two seconds counted during his performance. It also means that my fake boyfriend and I will be wearing matching outfits, that we’ll arrive on the red carpet together, that I’ll have to show unnecessary PDA out of the blue while one of our managers films us to make us more believable and real, and that I’ll have to pretend to be happy to be his arm candy. Do I accept or do I not accept the invitation?

Yeah, of course I do. It’s a great idea actually, both to show people my support as a cheerleader for him, and as publicity. Publicity not only for us as a couple, but also for myself. Our management, and yes, we have the same management, has arranged interviews for me too on the red carpet, so why shouldn’t I accept that? Plus, I want to go. Helloo? We’re talking about an important award show. Not to mention that my girlfriend performs too the same night and has also been nominated for several awards, so it’s just an extra incentive to want to go and be able to support her. Oohh, how foolish of me. I apologize for my forgetfulness. My name is Lauren Jauregui and I’m talking about the American Music Awards 2018.

See what I did there? 😏😏😏

These events are very exclusive and have an invitation list. If you’re a celebrity and you’re not on the list, then it’s very hard for you to be able to attend. But there’s a way, and no, I’m not talking about finding a way to sneak in. The only other way to get there is by taking the place of someone who had been invited and couldn’t attend.

Let’s say you’re a celebrity and you want to go there. Let’s say you want to go because you’ve been out of the spotlight for a long time and want to make a big comeback with a beautiful dress to show yourself off. The first thing you do is call your publicist and see if there are still seats available. Not all celebrities can attend those events despite being invited because they may have other commitments, or they’re out of town, or I don’t know, they’re on tour or something like that. So there’s the possibility that you can have their seat. If there aren’t any, then your publicist themselves may be looking for another way to get you in. Again, for an X reason, the celebrity who was supposed to present an award cannot go, and therefore your publicist manages to get you the invitation as one of the presenters. If none of these options are possible, then.. well, I hope you enjoy the show watched in the living room of your home.

You want another practical example? Okay, okay, babies, I’ll content you 😏

Latin Grammy Awards 2019. Still me, Lauren Jauregui, hi 🙋🏻 🙈 I wasn’t invited. I had no reason to actually be there, except for one…

I didn’t even publicize and say on my social media that I’d have been there. It was so unexpected and awesome for you nuggets, wasn’t it? Well, my girlfriend was invited but she unfortunately couldn’t go due to other commitments. You can imagine how sad she was not only to not being able to attend, but also to not being able to perform with Alejandro who is one of the people in the industry that she loves and admires the most, right? You can imagine her pout and her kicked puppy face for not being able to sing the song she wrote and dedicated to her little sister, can’t you? Well, I couldn’t bear to see her that way, so I told her: ‘Don’t worry, babe. I gotcha. I’ll go for you. I���ll go to represent you’. Also because her team didn’t need to be there, not even to collect the award which I later discovered she won the same evening. Awards, my beautiful chickens, are shipped months after the night they are received.

And so it was. I went with Brenda (my manager). I got dolled up. I did my interviews, even teasing my fans about my new project with Tainy. I sat in my baby’s seat in the front row. THE FRONT ROW. Front rows are reserved for the evening’s award winners. They NEVER put the winners in the back rows because it would take them too long to get to the stage when their name is called otherwise. And I was there, for her. And in addition to enjoying the show, I tried to hold back my happiness, especially since there were cameras everywhere, both during Alejandro’s performance as soon as my love appeared on the screens, and when they won the Record of the Year. I swear I had to get a hold of myself. I had to restrain myself and concentrate on clapping my hands like a normal person and not smiling too big.

*end of the sketch*

As you may have noticed so far, these are the only ways to attend award shows if you are a celebrity. But, just because you’re a celebrity, there’s no guarantee that you get invited. And you certainly cannot show up there with the hope that they’ll let you in without being invited, or nominated, or without a ticket just because you’re ‘someone’. Security kicks your ass out no matter who you are.

Every year, hundreds of celebrities don’t make it onto the invitation list. Keep in mind that the ‘exclusivity’ of these events is also due to the seats. Take as an example precisely the Microsoft Theater in Los Angeles where the AMAs 2018 took place. It has 7,100 seats. These seats are reserved for people in the show’s broadcast network, the telecast’s sponsors, the production team, the accountants, the legal team, the donors, the representatives, the press and media in general, etc., and THEN for the invited celebrities including singers and their teams, so also their publicists, agents, managers, [and not even all of them have a reserved seat; maybe only one of them has it and the rest are backstage or in the dressing room or not really there], etc., actors, and as with singers, their teams, the team of people who worked on the film with them, etc. See how many people and how few seats?

I’m still not 100% sure about this but, Emmy’s, Oscars, Golden Globes, Tony’s, and Grammy’s are the only award shows where the names of the winners aren’t revealed until the envelope is opened live on stage. All the remaining shows? Pfft, it’s all an organized thing. What you see on TV, the reactions ‘Oh my God, did I win? I can’t believe it!’, ‘I really wasn’t expecting that’, they’re all fake. Yes, the emotion for the win is true, but everything else? It’s all bullshit. Winners are notified long, but very long time before that. Indeed, many award shows only invite winners to attend. Haven’t you ever noticed how in some of them the other artists nominated in that same category aren’t even there? If they happened to be there, it’s because it’s very likely that they had won another category, or were there for other reasons, like presenting a performance or whatever.

Aaaand I’m done 😎😝 I think I’ve answered pretty much all the questions I’ve seen on the subject, even though I haven’t seen them here. If you yourselves have questions about this or anything else (even if you want advice on a personal level), as I’ve already said other times, feel free to ask. I’m at your disposal 😊

And thank you, Mari. It has been a while since I’ve done this, but I hope you know that I’m serious every time I thank you. Therefore, thank you once again for virtually letting me into your world and thank you for letting me continue to have little spaces in your blog 🤗🤗🤗

Thanks also to you babies for reading, liking, and re-blogging my occasional posts. But thanks mostly for her. Thanks to those who follow my friend’s blog with the right intentions. That is, with respect and without attacking her. Thanks to those who follow her because you actually like her and the content she posts, and thanks to those who use their brains before asking or submitting something to her. Thanks for real 🙏🏼

I hope you’re all well and that your holidays are continuing with peace and serenity. Stay safe, please. Stay patient. Keep the boat afloat. As usual, always with love, F ❤️

P.S. since I’m currently on vacation for a few more days before having to go back to work, and since I have a little bit more free time, I’m preparing something else for you based on some information that I was able to found out. Stay tuned for the next post 😉 The initials of the title are U and S, so you’ll know when you see it. Byee 😘

___

I was smiling with every word of this submit. Thanks for this clarification, F. It was awesome as usual

[chichirichick]

SoMa Week Day 4: Apologize

I did it!!!! Day 4 is up and running! And just a warning (that any fandom person probably already knows), obviously an apology between Soul and Maka doesn't go easily... Check it out on ff.net, ao3, or after the cut!

Maka had spent their morning classes as storm clouds on the horizon- grey and black with impending doom, threatening thunder and lightning just from the look of them. Soul was working double-time to maintain the cool guy exterior but internally, it was a bit of a shit-show. Nothing-- repeat, nothing-- fruitful had come from his analysis of breakfast which was when he first noticed the potential monsoon coming his way as Maka spent more time stirring her cereal than eating it.

Did I leave my towel on the floor again?

Nope.

Was it my turn to empty the dishwasher?

He checked Maka's annoyance-inducing chore chart and found it was not.

Did I somehow sleepwalk last night and go on some tirade that now means I can never be forgiven?

Welp, anything at this point was a possibility since no matter how much Soul searched his mind, there was no answer to the category-5 that was Maka Albarn today.

So, our master of strategy, the man-- boy no longer fit here, or at least he hoped so-- who always tried to balance his meister's ability to jump headfirst into any problem without a lick of thought first, planned to hide.

Technically, it had worked too. Maybe a little too well as Soul then started to have rainclouds of his own to pull around. I miss her. Yes, he was such a pathetic sap that an afternoon without Ms. Sunshine herself to bust through his own grumpiness left him sore. Heart sore. Soul sore. Since now it felt like if they weren't wrapped together, if her soul wasn't pieced in perfect with his, something was missing. What a pathetic sap.

That was definitely the resounding conclusion in his head especially after the two of them passed the evening in separate spaces. With the sun down and both his body and soul tired, Soul's mind kept him awake, preoccupied with creating the perfect apology. All the years with her were an absolute help in the construction of such a thing since he had to be exceptionally sorry for the myriad of idiot things he'd done over their time together. One might even go so far as to say that he was actually talented at their creation, since, thankfully, there had yet to be a moment where one had not won him Maka's forgiveness.

Who knows, though, today could be the day!

Soul pressed a painful groan into his pillow as he began the chore of suffocating in the fabric and making a detailed plea for her forgiveness.

It was then that this door opened without an announcement or a knock.

He rolled over, trying not to gulp for air even though his lungs were screaming for it since Maka was standing in the doorway, arms crossed tightly against her chest.

"Hey?" That wasn't meant to be a question but between his voice cracking and the panic, his octave had wavered enough to make it one.

"I'm sorry!" It was just as much an accusation as an apology.

Soul stared wide-eyed.

"I know you've been avoiding me all day-"

Soul raised his eyebrows and managed a "wha-?"

"All morning you were just doing that stare-and-think, so I know you were upset and I just couldn't- I still can't figure out what I did, and I don't know what else to say other than I'm sorry even though I know that doesn't make it any better!" The words were scrambling for supremacy, all of them almost blurring together at the end as a few tears ran loose down her cheeks.

He sat up the rest of the way, watching as his movement made her flinch, made her consider running, but that didn't discourage the rest. Soul stood, ready to sprint if she did, but Maka simply teetered foot to foot in her discomfort. Once he was close enough, he reached for her, getting a handle on one of her elbows to keep her in place. "Whaddya think you did?"

"I don't know," she pressed back.

"If you think you did somethin' wrong you prolly have a guess." His other hand grasped her other arm, getting her to fumble a step closer. "Don't think you'd apologize unless you think you actually did somethin'."

She huffed. "I-" There was that sway again and her eyes trailed away to the floor. "I've been ignoring you."

Soul sighed. "You think so?"

"I know so," Maka warbled tearfully. "I just- I-" She pulled one elbow out of his grasp so she could use her hand to clear away the tears, breaking her hard stance just as her resolve started to falter. "Soul, I don't know how to tell you, and I'm sorry."

"Though we always knew how to talk to each other." Soul couldn't stop the stutter of his own voice, but even without a second breath he continued, "Friends- partners do that."

With each one of those monikers, her wavelength pulsed.

"You don't think we're that?" he offered shakily.

"We are, but-" Another desperate fractured cry sparked between them.

Soul tightened his grip on her. "There ain't a but, Maka. I'm your friend. I'm your partner. If there's something else, it ain't a but." He heaved another sigh, his fingers trembling as he weakly shook their connection. "I thought you were mad at me, but that ain't it, huh? There's somethin'... somethin' wrong. Maybe has been for a lil' while. Makes me scared that there's somethin' else. So don't tell me there's a but, Maka, please."

She felt the fear explode from him, the tightly positioned mask slipping and letting that inky darkness that he always held at bay leak between them. "I'm sorry," she murmured again as she searched his face.

"Please, stop sayin' that," he pleaded back as another sickly wave of fear lapped between them.

"No, I'm sorry, I forgot…" Maka let her voice drift off as her hand lifted with a purpose, pressing firmly to his chest. The echo was clear, that moment that she'd promised in her heart to be braver, to make sure she never let him get hurt for her sake again. This time, she could look him in the eyes; this time she could make him a better promise. "There is a but- and it was only because I was afraid, except I can't let my fear hurt you. Which means…" She swallowed all of it- the terror, any bit of pride- and jumped like she always did. "I'm your friend, I'm your partner, but I'm also not going to ignore that I have feelings beyond that. I… was avoiding you because I was avoiding them. Looking at you, being with you, just makes me want more and I'm terrified that you don't want the same thing or that it hurts you. I can't really decide which would be worse."

While Soul's eyebrows were furrowed in thought, his soul was playing out a completely different song. "Then I gotta apologize."

For all her courage, Maka couldn't utter another word, just staring at his searching eyes and trying to decipher why his internal melody sounded so beautiful at that moment.

"'Cause I thought I was makin' it pretty obvious." His lean was slow, easing forward until their foreheads touched. It wasn't the first time they'd been this close, but it was the first time that his hands drifted cautiously towards her back, tipping her into him in a closeness that wasn't necessarily for comfort. "Friend, partner, and if there's more than that, it ain't a but. It's an and."

"Friend, partner, and…" The tilt of her chin came achingly slow, but the reward made their weeks, months, years of waiting worth it. After all, their first kiss definitely wasn't something to apologize for.

[konglindorm]

Born a Monster

While animal bridegrooms are an extremely popular folktale motif, it’s fairly rare to encounter bridegrooms who were originally born non-human. (This is particularly interesting as it is much more common for brides to be born nonhuman—see “The Little Mermaid,” anything about selkies, “Undine,” “Melusine”—there’s also a distinct aquatic theme here, but I’m getting off-topic.)

There are only two other stories like this that come to mind: “The Pig King” (Italian and French) and “Hans My Hedgehog.” (German) (I am sure there are other stories out there that fit into this category, but there are hundreds of thousands of fairy tales in the world, and I can only read a small percentage of them, and can remember even less.)

“Prince Lindworm” differs from these other two born-a-monster stories in that his reason for being a monster is slightly more traditional. Monster bridegrooms are generally turned into monsters as a punishment—usually for a fairly minor offense, such as general rudeness or turning down romantic advances. The lindworm is a lindworm because of his mother’s minor offense of eating too many flowers. There’s no punishment involved in Hans’ or the Pig King’s monstrousness; their parents wanted desperately to have children, and someone magical heard their pleas and said yeah, okay, sure—but with a fun little twist. (Although Hans’ dad totally brought it on himself by saying “I want a kid so bad I wouldn’t even care if he was a hedgehog.”)

All three stories involve the beast marrying before his transformation. But while Hans and both versions of the Pig King remain beasts at least part-time for some time after their marriage (we’re talking months, here), the lindworm is transformed on their wedding night. Hans and French pig are the types of characters that can only be permanently freed from their animal forms when the animal skins are destroyed. Which their wives handle, having become extremely fed up with this whole bestiality situation. The terms of transformation for the Italian pig are just that he be married three times. (Which, by the way, no one actually knew about. The terms and conditions were totally secret in this situation. And personally, if I didn’t know about the 3 weddings deal, I probably wouldn’t have kept getting married after multiple spouses attempted to kill me, but whatever, you do you.)

Prince Lindworm just feels more like an enchanted bridegroom story than the others—partly because of the consequences-for-your-actions element of his lindworm-iness, but mostly I think because of the transformation sequence? And the role the main girl plays.

Hans’ bride comes off more like a Brave Little Tailor girl than an enchanted bridegroom girl; you don’t really get the sense that she’s saving him from enchantment. He won the right to marry her through tailor-typical feats, and their relationship is something that she endures until she figures out she can make it a little more bearable by trashing his hedgehog skin.

The pig king’s bride lying with him every night when he’s not wearing an animal skin is actually pretty common in folklore, with the best example being “East of the Sun, West of the Moon”—and of course there’s “Cupid and Psyche” there, too. But I do feel that a fundamental part of those stories is the journey that the girl goes on after seeing his face. “The Pig King” just feels—I don’t know.

I think an important part of enchanted bridegroom stories is the step where the girl does something to save the beast—whether that’s going on a journey to find him, initiating a bizarro transformation sequence, or searching frantically through the palace to find him and marry him before he dies of sorrow.

I don’t know. I just think that "Prince Lindworm" is better than the other born-enchanted stories I’ve encountered. It just feels right.

I can’t think of a good ending, here. Whatever. Remind me to come back to that whole girls-more-commonly-start-out-non-human thing sometime when I have the energy to spare for anything non-Lindworm related. (Even when bridegrooms are born monsters, they’re still distinctly enchanted, born from normal humans. Brides are more likely to be just naturally nonhuman, which is—there’s something significant in that, I’m sure, and I actually meant it to be a part of my seminar paper five years ago, but the professor made me narrow my focus, which was probably a good idea as the paper was still like 25 pages long.)

Preorder my book, Lindworm, here!

[dragonflymage]

I have various levels to my dreams and it depends on the level as to how often I have that type of dream. I’m not sure if overthinking causes them. But I do know having the dreams causes me to think more after I wake.

Here are my personal dream types:

💙 Normal dreams - 💙 This is a dream that revolves around one or two subjects or symbols. It’s a pretty simple dream. It may or may not make sense. I’ll most likely forget about it when I wake, or by the end of the day. These probably occur at least once a night, if not more.

💙 Weird dreams - 💙 These are similar to Normal dreams except they are truly strange. It’ll mix symbols that make no sense. I’ll wake up wondering what the hell I just dreamed about. These aren’t as common as the Normal dreams. Those that I remember may occur about once a week or two.

💙 Story dreams - 💙 These are dreams that are like I’m watching a movie. I’m either within the mind of the ‘main character’ or I’m an invisible watcher to the events. These can be ordinary stories or can also fall into the Nightmare category. I don’t have these sorts of dreams as often as I used to.

💙 Dreamwalker dreams - 💙 For me, a dreamwalker is someone who can travel in their dreams. I have at least 5 regular locations I visit while I sleep. These are places I know so well that if I ever found them while awake, I’d know exactly where to go to get around. These dreams occur maybe once or twice a month.

💙 Stress dreams - 💙 This is a dream where I wake feeling anxious. The themes usually involve being teased and emotionally tormented. As though I’ve been picked on all night. These dreams occur more often when I’m already feeling stressed about something while awake.

💙 Disaster dreams - 💙 These are dreams about some sort of natural disaster, post-apocalyptic events, or something that is supposed to end the world. Usually, they involve weather or geological events, bombs, or (haha) zombies. I’ve had these fairly regularly my whole life.

💙 Creepy AF dreams - 💙 Similar to a Story dream, but these dreams are one step above a full nightmare. They involve all the scary elements of a nightmare, but I’m not fully interacting with it, nor it with me. Like I’m walking through a created haunted house in someone else’s mind where nothing can touch me. It’s creepy, but overall, not dangerous. I don’t have these dreams very often, maybe once or twice a year, depending on waking situations.

💙 Nightmares - 💙 The worst. These are dreams that are realistic and frightening, leaving me feeling quite traumatized. They are usually a Story dream taken to the extreme. I’ve often wondered if I was trapped inside various random people’s bad memories. I am fully interacting and stuck in the scenario until it unfolds to the end. Though, I have learned how to wake myself up right before I (or the person in the dream) is supposed to die. I used to have Nightmares more often in the past. I rarely have these now.

Here are examples from my dream journal for each of the above types I listed.

💤 **Please know that some of the content below might be SCARY** 💤

⭐ Normal dream - ⭐ I was with a group of people. One of them I know was male. He was a priest or holy man. We were walking together on a dirt road and there were trees around us. There was a clearing where I could see through the trees and I saw mountains way off in the distance. I thought it was so pretty so I took my out camera and snapped pictures. Off to the left of the mountains, I saw a bay. On the bay was a huge bridge that reminded me of the golden gate but it was bigger. Something about the bridge scared me.

I took more pictures. Trees blocked my view so I moved around to try and find a clearer view. The holy man with me said, "you're seeing what you're meant to see. Let it become clear on its own". When I looked back at the bridge it was covered in fog and I couldn't see it anymore.

⭐ Weird dream - ⭐ I was in an old building. It looked like a stone temple. It was dusty. Someone was with me and he was trying to get a spell or a machine to work. There was a big egg-shaped container with a line going longways through it so it could open. It reminded me of a coffin except it was egg-shaped.

I went over to the egg coffin and opened it. Inside was a little boy. I was wondering what a little boy is doing inside the coffin? I touched him and he woke up and I was glad that he wasn't dead. I helped him out of the coffin and he followed me around. He said, "I'm supposed to visit you soon". I said, "but you're visiting me now". He shook his head and said, "no not like this". That's all I remember.

⭐ Story dream - ⭐ The dream went through an entire sequence of events in someone else’s life that spanned about a year. I lived alone in a house that had no lights. I was pregnant and nobody to talk with about it. Two or three older women came to my house to keep me company. They said that they would explain things to me and answer any questions I had. They answered basic questions because I was too afraid to ask what I was really thinking. They offered to stay with me but I told them that I would be fine, so they left. I spent a great deal of time alone and crying.

When I was in the hospital to have the baby, I felt detached from everything. I was pregnant, and then I had a baby. He was a boy and I named him Delancey. I brought him home and in my heart, I was happy he was here, yet there was a sadness in my heart. When it came time to introduce Delancey to other people I knew, I put him in a small stroller. I went to a workplace where I knew some people. They came out and fawned over the baby and were excited about him being there. Again I felt detached and put on a happy face.

There was an office or room inside the workplace that I went into. It was empty and I knew it was the room that belonged to my baby's father. My thoughts lingered on him and how he died before he knew I was even pregnant. I started crying, holding Delancey to my chest, trying to talk out loud to the baby's father that he had a son, and I was so sorry that he wasn't here to share in his life with me. My heart hurt so badly for this woman I shared life with in my dream.

⭐ Dreamwalker dream - ⭐ In this dream, I returned to a dream location I've been in before. The place always feels like India, yet it also feels other-worldly. In past dreams, I'm walking through a marketplace during different stages of prosperity. Sometimes the marketplace is active and thriving, and other times it's desolate with people sitting on the ground as if they're starving.

Last night the location felt desperate. In the dream, I remembered being here before, so I took a good look around to gather my sense of direction. I always entered the marketplace from a path in the near center, and the marketplace extended off to the right and left of me. The ground is not paved. It's covered with red-orange dirt. I always seem to know someone in this location and I went looking for them.

Near the marketplace stood a small hut with a blanket for a door. I stared at it for a long time, but I don't recall why I hesitated to go in. Outside of the hut, a small boy came over to me. His skin was deep brown and his hair was short and black. Indian or Arabic features. I recognized him as he asked, "do you want to buy some?" He had jewelry in his hand.

I looked in my hand and saw that I carried an amulet in the shape of the eye of Horus. It was new and shiny and felt out of place in my surroundings. The boy looked at it and said, "I can give you something better". I asked him, "why are you selling jewelry away from the marketplace?" He looked at me in silence, but his eyes looked very sad. He hurried away before I could say anything more.

I finally went inside the hut. Before I went inside, I knew that something was wrong. Several people were huddled together on the dirt floor. One person cradled the head of a child on his lap. I knew the child was sick, and possibly the others were too. I felt as though I had the capability to heal them but I think I knew I was too late to do any serious help. They pleaded to me to please try. It hurt to look at them, and I knew that my efforts wouldn't save them, but I knelt down and attempted to soothe their pain. The child weakly held my hand and such an overwhelming feeling of helplessness went through me that it pulled me right out of the dream.

⭐ Stress dream - ⭐ In my dream, I saw people outside. One man said to a woman there "I'll buy you ice cream with a cone". The woman looked happy about the ice cream at first. But then she was upset when he mentioned a cone. She walked away. The man didn't know what upset her.

Then I saw a memory inside the woman's thoughts. I shared space with her. The woman was a 5-year-old little girl. She sat in-between her parents on a bench. The girl had won a prize and her prize was an ice cream cone. Her father said he would test the ice cream to see if it was OK. He ate the ice cream and didn't give it back to the girl.

The girl kept saying "can I have some now?" But he wouldn't give it back. He said, "this tastes so good". The girl got upset and started to cry. She looked at her mother and said: "he won't give me my ice cream". Her mother made faces at the girl and repeated what the girl said, repeating it in a teasing voice. The girl cried and the father kept eating the cone until it was gone. The girl didn't get any of the ice cream that was her prize for winning something. I knew she felt very upset because she never had special ice cream like that before.

⭐ Disaster dream - ⭐ In this dream, I was at a beach. I walked in the water out pretty far because the water was shallow. I went out and the water was only at my waist. Then I noticed a disturbance in the water and a large whirlpool appeared. In a short amount of time, all the water in the ocean drained down through a large crack in the ocean floor. I knew that a larger disaster was coming, that an earthquake was going to happen. I went around the beach to all the people who were standing there staring at the empty ocean, trying to warn them that a big earthquake was coming, but no one seemed to hear me or care. I decided to leave the beach and hurried back home. I ran into the house to grab my pets. I had only one cat and two small dogs. I put them into my jeep and called my brother on a cell phone to warn him. He seemed too tired to care. I drove someplace safer.

⭐ Creepy AF dream - ⭐ I was inside a room that was supposed to be my bedroom. There was a man in my room, but I wasn't sure if he was there or not. He stood in the corner of the room watching me and said nothing. I had a creepy feeling so I went to the window. I was on the second floor. Looking down, I saw another man standing there. He wore white and stood very still. He looked right up at me and stared. He didn't move and kept staring at me. I was afraid so I left that window and looked out the other window. Another man wearing white stood very still and stared up at me.

I hurried away and turned to look at the man in my room. He said, "so you can see us, can you?" I wanted to get out of the room, but couldn't find the door. The man walked closer to me and said, "I was going to wait until later. But since you can see me I'm going to kill you now." He had something in his hand and he came closer to me. I sat on the floor and I pushed myself against the wall using my feet. He stood over me and stared at me for a long time. I was still sitting on the floor, but my dead body was laying on the floor in front of me. It scared me so much to see that. The man leaned over my body and talked.

A woman and another person came into the room. She saw my body on the floor and was angry. She picked the man up and took a dagger and stabbed him in the chest many times. Then she threw him on the floor. She looked right at me sitting on the floor and stepped over my body. She told me to follow her and she would find a safe place for me. I was very scared. But I followed her.

⭐ Nightmare - ⭐ I was inside someone's house. Other people were living in this house with me and they were my family. Another stranger lived in the house too. He was very dangerous, but I was the only one who could see him. He took each of my family one at a time and sliced their throats with a long razor. He forced me to watch him doing this. I could see this happening, but the other family members didn't seem to realize what was going on. I tried to tell them they needed to leave the house, but they didn't understand me. He grabbed another person and sliced them too. I saw the razor going into their skin and I saw blood everywhere. He kept doing this until they were all dead.

Then he said he was going to do the same to me. He grabbed me and showed me the razor knife and moved it over my skin. He wasn't cutting me at first. I tried to get away from him. He said he was very sorry and there was no one else left so I was next. Then the other person I shared the dream-thoughts with began talking to him. She was screaming and saying she didn't want to die. I think she was a she. I don't know for sure. I could still see through her eyes and I tried to close my eyes. But I couldn't because her eyes weren't closed. Then the telephone woke me up.

— Those are some of my dreams from over the years. It took me forever to go through them and pick these. I have so many that could’ve worked for each category.

And to answer the original question, there were times when I’ve had nightmares very often and times when they were rare. The frequency seems to depend on what’s taking place in my life. 💗

Thanks for the question. 😊

[blarrghe]

would be really great if adorable domestic ficlets about sequel!Twelve Nights (a thing that DOES NOT ACTUALLY EXIST there’s NO PLAN) would stop jumping into my head while I’m trying to finish this chapter of the Merrill Sessions and you can blame Taren and Dorian and the baby if I don’t. anyway this one is called Favourites: -- Kindergarten is a time of self discovery.

Bracha is five years old now, which means she can start kindergarten, and she is very excited. Taren is excited for her, in a your-happiness-is-my-happiness kind of way, even if he’s openly shedding tears as they pull up to the school parking lot. Dorian is not so generous. He is, frankly, just upset. He’d made a very good case as to why she should continue to learn from them, at home, including: they have more advanced degrees between the two of them than the entire staff of the elementary school put together, Bracha can‘t take field trips to the library or the valley to learn about ancient Tevene history or Dalish trail-signs or bugs every day if she goes to Kindergarten, and also, Kindergarten doesn’t have cuddling.

But apparently, Kindergarten actually takes a lot of field trips to the library and to the valley and even to the next town over to the science museum, Kindergarten’s teacher is a well-loved Dalish woman with wonderful credentials and two upstanding young teaching assistants whom Taren knows personally, and apparently having advanced degrees in astrophysics and business does not better suit one to teaching reading and social-emotional skills than ones in early childhood education and developing pedagogy. Also, Bracha really wants to go to Kindergarten, all her friends are going to Kindergarten, and ever since Autie Dee bought her a backpack in preparation, she hasn’t taken it off. So Kindergarten won that argument, though Dorian made a deal with his husband that they would reevaluate the situation in a year or two, because by that time beginning her education in astrophysics would be warranted, anyway. And now they are in the school parking lot and Taren is quietly weeping and Bracha is bouncing up and down in her carseat with her bright green backpack in her lap and her hair in already-messy braided pigtails, and Dorian has to be the one to get them inside.

Taren wipes his eyes as Bracha drags them up to the door, one of her tiny hands in each of her fathers’, and Kindergarten’s teacher is wearing overalls and a bombastic smile, greeting each child with a fun name-tag sticker and slow, patient directions for navigating her classroom: cubbies for their snacks, a reading nook with pillows if they get tired, activity tables, colouring sheets and markers in one station, a table filled with water and toys, bins of costumes and a kitchen set, a colourful carpet by the board where they’ll sit for stories and songs; a five-year-old’s dream. Dorian gets the feeling that the information package is more for them than it is for her, especially considering that Bracha practically sprints off to an easel equipped with water-colour fingerpaints the moment she spots it, and the teacher continues explaining the plans for the day without her.

Taren smiles, somehow finding one at the sound of Bracha’s laugh when she spots a friend across the room, while Dorian wonders if he can inspect the reading nook. But they make it out of there, somehow, and before driving them home, Taren drives them both over to Auntie Dee’s, and she sighs at them and gives them ice cream. Taren blushes, and Dorian is distracted: when Taren was little, ice cream always helped, she says. Taren protests that he has never mended a hurt with ice cream, while digging into the container for more, and Auntie Dee says chocolate chip was his favourite.

Favourite is an interesting word. Someone at Bracha’s school introduces her to the word, the blighted teacher, probably, and then soon Kindergarten is her favourite. It stings the first time, Kindergarten is her favourite, Miss Jessa is her favourite, but then Lara is her favourite, Eirlana is her favourite, Daven is her favourite, rocks are her favourite, animal-shaped cookies are her favourite... Dorian is pretty sure that she doesn’t know what the word actually means, and he calms down. A little.

But Kindergarten teaches her many things, not just new words, but new skills. He still won’t admit it, but when she comes back with letter recognition and blends, reading sight words and rhyming word families, when she starts counting in three languages and subitizes the numbers on the dice during board game night, when she tells him a story one night and evaluates that the problem in it was solved by sharing without any prompting, he starts to think that maybe Kindergarten is actually doing her some good. Soon, she figures out that with ‘favourite‘ you can have as many as you can come up with categories, and so the obsession continues.

Bracha loves to tell anyone who will listen, and with even more enthusiasm ask in turn, about favourites. It makes for surprisingly stimulating dinner conversation. The entire family learns many things about one another. From favourite colours (Bracha’s is rainbow, Dorian’s is green because black isn’t a colour, and Taren’s is also rainbow), to favourite foods (Bracha’s is waffles, Dorian’s is something he had once in Antiva but can’t remember the name of, made better by its unattainable mystique, and Taren’s is soup, which is cheating because anything can be soup — this argument takes up all of dinner, and by the end of it his favourite is determined to actually be pumpkin pie.), to more substantial questions like “what is your favourite day” (clarified to be as in ever in the history of ever — they all pick her birthday), and “what is your favourite book” which all of them flatly refuse to answer.

Dorian learns things he never thought to learn about his husband. His favourite flowers are pink heather, his favourite fish is starfish, his favourite animal is a blackbear, his favourite shirt is the one Dorian gave him three Satinalia’s ago and his favourite number is twelve. He winks at Dorian like it hasn’t always been. Dorian also finds himself taking stock of things he never has before; considering his favourite socks — knitted by Auntie Dee, obviously, his favourite toy — a duck he had when he was little, and hasn’t thought about since, his favourite colour of apples — after determining which, he starts buying the green ones more. She asks for some truly bizare determinations too, such as his favourite sense; Kindergarten went to the science museum that day, so he takes the teachable moment to say proprioception and then teach her the hidden-hand trick, because he needs to solidify that he is still smarter than Miss Jessa.

He learns that Bracha likes green apples too, and that she knows because they did an experiment at school where they tried all the different ones and filled out a graph, that her favourite toy is the bear he got her the day they took her home (though he knew that already, its name is Chauncy and it follows her everywhere), her favourite socks were also knitted by Auntie Dee and they are her favourite because they are rainbow, and her favourite sense is definitely proprioception — she cannot wait to tell Miss Jessa about it. When he puts her to bed, he reads her her favourite story, which they’ve agreed is a designation that can rotate each week, and she points out all the sight words. (Her favourite sight word is “no” — she doesn’t declare this, of course, but considering how often the five year old uses it, Dorian can’t be fooled.) When she is sleepy and slumping, her head nodding into her pillow, she reaches up towards his face and pulls his cheek into a kiss, before he can finish the tale.

“Thanks daddy,” she mumbles, and it squishes into him like a hug every damn time, “you’re my favourite.”

“What about papa?” he smiles softly, returning the kiss with the softest scold — it’s probably not okay to let her pick favourites — and she nods, eyes closing as he pulls the covers up over her.

“Papa is my favourite too. Miss Jessa says you can have lots of favourite people, it’s not like colours.” she says, then opening her eyes with a sudden thought, she adds “and actually, you can have lots of favourite colours,” very seriously. Dorian nods in serious agreement.

“Okay,” he says, “then you and papa are my favourite too.”

In the living room, after he tells him of this new rule to the game of favourites, Taren resoundingly agrees.