#Hearing others talk about traditions and things they do together as a family sounds so sweet and im like ... I wish i could relate

[mrfoox]

Kinda wish my family was ya know... More tight-knit

[amirasainz]

Hey love the leclerc sister ❤️ can you do maybe that we won in monza her reaction and the family reaction please ?

Hiii guys. I hope you enjoy reading this and thank you soo much for all the support. I promise, I'll try to write the other requests as soon as possible. However, I currently find it easier to write Leclerc!sister stories. So if you have some ideas, my requests are open for them. (they are open for all ideas.

Btw, I'm so happy that Charles won. He is literally my favourite driver. However, I'm very unhappy with the way Lando is currently acting (it's just my opinion, please respect that)

Enjoy reading!!!

-XoXo

He won in Monaco, he wins in Monza

One of the interviewers, addressing Charles who was seated alongside Lewis and Nico in the media room, asked, “A question for Charles. I hope I’m not being disrespectful with this question, but it is about your little sister. Why is Monza her first race appearance and not Monaco, and why did it take so long for her to attend a race weekend?”

It was Thursday, and the only topic on everyone’s lips was the attendance of YN Caroline Pascale Florence Leclerc. When the Leclerc family entered the paddock today, the sight of the young Monegasque girl walking between her older brothers not only surprised the fans but also caught the media’s attention, as it was her first-ever Formula 1 appearance.

Charles responded to the first part of the question with a smile, "Ah, yes. I’ve been asked that a lot today. Well, it’s actually quite simple. My sister wasn’t in Monaco to see the race in person because she was at home with our grandmother, watching the race together. Since the start of my Formula 1 career, my sister and grandmother have always watched the races together at my grandmother’s home. There are a couple of reasons for this tradition: 1. My sister was too young to attend the paddock a few years ago. With all the media and fans, it would have been quite overwhelming for her. 2. My grandmother isn’t very healthy anymore, so it’s easier for her to stay at home, where it’s cooler, and she can relax in peace. So, this has become their Monaco Race tradition, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that just because people are wondering where YN is."

Before Charles could address the second part of the question, Lewis interjected, preventing the reporters from probing further. “That is a really sweet tradition. And Charles is right. Why should he ruin a family tradition, or in this case, a grandmother-granddaughter tradition, just because the fans and media think YN must attend the Grand Prix in person? From the sounds of it, all parties seem happy with how things are.”

Nico, who had been listening intently, nodded in agreement and added, “Absolutely. Family traditions are important, and it’s heartwarming to hear about the bond between your sister and grandmother. It’s not always about being physically present at the races; it’s about the shared experience and the memories they create together.”

Charles smiled thankfully at Lewis and Nico before agreeing with them. “Yeah, everyone is happy with how things are, and it doesn’t matter because, in the end, we always have a nice big family dinner with everyone. For the second part of your question about why it took so long for my sister to make an appearance, there is also a simple answer. My sister recently turned 18 years old, meaning she now counts as an adult. However, when I started in Formula 1, she was only 12 years old, meaning she was a little girl. My family and I had a long talk about this when I first started racing, and none of us felt comfortable with the thought of her getting swarmed by the media or fans at such a young age. We wanted her to be able to go to school or meet up with friends without getting photographed all the time. As some of you might have seen, I only posted pictures of my sister where her face was covered up just for privacy. But now she is 18 years old, she made the decision to attend this weekend, so I’ll respect that. However, I still ask everybody to not swarm her and leave her as much privacy as possible. She is here to watch the race and not to be the new art piece for social media."

With the strong words from the Ferrari driver, the media stopped asking questions about the youngest Leclerc, making her brother's life a bit easier this weekend.

_______________________________________________

The next few days passed quickly and YN enjoyed every minute with it. Not only was the young girl able to see her brothers all of the time, but everybody was also so nice to her. AT the Ferrari garage, the mechanics always greeted her and answered all her questions. The other team members were always quick to inform YN about the newest paddock Gossip over some watermelon and strawberry gelato. Carlos, her brothers team mate, told her all of Charles embarrassing stories, making her laugh till she cried. And the best part for her was, that her family was always there as well. And before she could even blink, it was finally race day.

The air was electric at the Autodromo Nazionale Monza, where the excitement of the Formula 1 race filled the atmosphere with palpable energy. YN, a bright-eyed girl with a heart full of enthusiasm, stood between her two older brothers, Arthur and Lorenzo. The three of them wore matching Ferrari shirts, their faces painted with the iconic red logo.

“Can you believe we’re finally here?” YN exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sprawling racetrack and the roaring engines.

“I know! It’s incredible!” Arthur replied, grinning broadly. He ruffled her hair affectionately. “You’re going to love this, YN. Just wait until the race starts!”

Lorenzo leaned in closer, his voice a mix of excitement and pride. “And just think, you’re going to see Charles out there racing! This is his second home track!”

YN's eyes widened with joy. “I can’t wait! I’ve watched him on TV, but seeing him in person is going to be amazing!”

As the cars lined up on the starting grid, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation. The siblings exchanged glances, feeling the thrill of the moment. Suddenly, the crowd erupted into cheers as the drivers took their positions, and YN jumped up and down.

“Look! There he is!” YN pointed excitedly as Charles, her older brother, appeared on the screen, adjusting his helmet and climbing into his Ferrari.

“Go, Charles!” Arthur shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Lorenzo joined in, his voice booming, “You’ve got this, Charles! Show them what you’re made of!”

With the race about to begin, YN felt a flutter of nerves mixed with excitement. “What if he sees us?” she asked, her voice a mixture of hope and anxiety.

“He will! He always looks for us,” Lorenzo assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And he’ll be so happy to see you here for your first race!”

The lights turned green, and the cars shot off the line, the sound of engines roaring like a symphony of speed. YN’s eyes were glued to the track, her heart racing in rhythm with the cars as they sped by. “This is so fast! Look at them go!” she shouted, her excitement contagious.

As the laps progressed, the tension in the air grew. YN cheered for Charles, her small voice echoing through the grandstands. “Come on, Charles! You can do it!”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the race came to an end, and Charles crossed the finish line in a spectacular first place. The crowd erupted in applause, and YN jumped up, beaming. “He did it! He did it!”

Arthur and Lorenzo hugged her tightly. “He’s amazing!” Lorenzo exclaimed, his voice barely able to contain his excitement. “I’m so proud of him!”

As the drivers began to celebrate, YN spotted Charles climbing out of his car, his face lit up with joy. He scanned the crowd, and when his eyes landed on his family, his smile widened even more. “I see them!” he shouted, pointing towards them.

“Charles!” YN screamed, waving her arms wildly.

Charles jogged over to the barrier, his heart swelling with happiness as he spotted his little sister. “YN! Did you enjoy the race?” he called out, leaning over the fence to get a better look at her.

“Of course I did! I loved it! You were amazing!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Did you really? I’m so glad you’re here!” Charles leaned closer, his eyes shining with pride. “You were cheering so loud! I could hear you!”

“Really?” YN’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she giggled. “I was so nervous! But it was the best day ever!”

Arthur chimed in, “You should’ve seen her, Charles. She was a little ball of energy the whole time!”

“YN, you’re my lucky charm!” Charles laughed, ruffling her hair. “I need you at every race now!”

“I will! I promise!” she giggled back, feeling like the happiest girl in the world.

Lorenzo grinned at his brothers. “You should be proud. You raced well, Charles. You’re amazing out there!”

“Thanks, man. It means a lot,” Charles replied, his voice filled with gratitude. “But the real highlight was seeing YN here. I can’t believe it’s her first time!”

Just then, the crowd roared with applause as Charles’s fellow drivers approached, congratulating him. He turned back to YN, “Let’s take a picture! I want to remember this moment!”

“Yes! Let’s do it!” YN squealed, and the three brothers gathered around her, arms wrapped tightly.

With the sun setting behind them, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, they posed for a picture. Charles held YN close, a protective arm around her shoulders, while Arthur and Lorenzo beamed with pride.

“Say Ferrari!” Charles instructed, and they all shouted in unison, “Ferrari!”

As they snapped the picture, YN felt a warmth in her heart, knowing that this day would be etched in her memory forever. “I can’t wait for the next race!” she declared, looking up at her brothers.

“Neither can we,” Arthur said, pulling her in for another hug. “We’ll make sure you’re at every race!”

“Absolutely,” Lorenzo added, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re part of the team now, YN!”

Charles smiled down at his little sister, feeling grateful for the love and support of his family. “I’m so lucky to have you all here. This was the best race ever.”

As the excitement of the race began to settle, YN, Arthur, and Lorenzo found a cozy spot near the track where they could watch the celebration unfold. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of laughter, cheers, and the roar of the fans.

“Look at them!” YN pointed to Charles, who was now surrounded by teammates and fans. He was smiling from ear to ear, clearly reveling in the joy of the moment. “He looks so happy!”

“He is happy,” Arthur replied, leaning back against the railing. “It’s not just about the race; it’s about sharing it with the people you love.”

“Yeah, and he knows we’re here cheering him on,” Lorenzo added, a proud grin on his face. “He’s always been a family guy.”

YN beamed, her heart swelling with pride. “I can’t believe I got to see him race in person. It was so cool!“

As the celebrations continued, YN’s attention was suddenly caught by a group of fans waving banners and holding up signs. “Look over there! They have a sign for Charles!” she exclaimed, pointing excitedly.

“Let’s go check it out!” Arthur suggested, and they made their way through the crowd, YN leading the charge.

When they reached the group, they encountered a colorful banner that read, “Charles Leclerc, our champion!” YN’s eyes sparkled with admiration.

“Can I hold it?” she asked, her voice filled with eagerness.

“Of course! Here you go!” one of the fans replied, handing the banner to her. YN beamed with joy as she held it high above her head.

“Charles! Over here!” she shouted, waving the banner enthusiastically.

Charles turned, catching sight of his little sister holding the sign, and his heart swelled with affection. “YN! That’s amazing!” he called back, flashing her a thumbs-up.

“Look, he sees us!” Lorenzo said, his excitement contagious.

“Let’s take another picture!” Arthur suggested, pulling out his phone.

As they posed with the banner, YN felt a surge of happiness. This was a moment she would cherish forever. After snapping a few pictures, they decided to head back to the main area where the podium ceremony was about to take place.

“YN, you’re going to love this part!” Lorenzo said, guiding her through the crowd. “This is where the drivers get their trophies.”

As they settled into a spot with a great view of the podium, YN couldn’t contain her excitement. “I can’t wait to see Charles get his trophy!”

When the drivers were finally called up to the podium, the crowd erupted into cheers. Charles stood proudly on the first-place step, his trophy gleaming in the sunlight. YN clapped and cheered along with her older brothers.

Charles looked down at his family, and his smile only grew wider. He raised the trophy high above his head, and the crowd roared in response.

After the ceremony, Charles made his way through the crowd toward his family, still clutching the trophy. “You guys are the best! Thank you for being here!” he exclaimed, enveloping YN in a warm embrace.

“I’m so proud of you, Charles!” YN squeaked, her face lighting up with adoration. “You were so fast!”

“Thanks, little sis! It means the world to me that you came to support me,” he replied, tousling her hair again. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

“I loved it!” she said, her eyes glistening. “Can we come to every race now?”

“Absolutely! We’ll make it a tradition,” Charles promised, exchanging a knowing glance with Arthur and Lorenzo, who nodded in agreement.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, the siblings gathered for one last photograph together. Charles held the trophy aloft, with YN standing proudly beside him, a huge grin plastered on her face.

[savingcrxws]

eyes on fire | carmen berzatto headcanon

carmen berzatto x ex!reader (but not for long...)

warnings. language, mentions of suicide & death (mikey)

authors note. thinking of turning this into a fic but i just wanted to get these thoughts thrown onto a page for now | EDIT 7/7: ITS A FIC! HERES PART ONE

you hated carmen berzatto, to say the least

you had been each others first s/o and spent a lot of the end of your teenage years attached at the hip

every berzatto family function (no matter how messy they always ended), every school dance, every hell's kitchen rerun--you and carmy were together

mikey liked to call you guys soulmates, watching how you and carmy just seemed to click like that- a statement that never failed to make carmy go flush in the face (que richie faking barfing in the background)

you were one of the first people that carmen told about his wishes for the future-how he wanted to take up the restaurant with his brother and continue the berzatto tradition

you loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about cooking with his family-the way he gave his all into his aspirations

"well you gotta make sure i'm the first one to eat those fancy sounding dishes when you start working at the beef, carm"

"absolutely, babe. i wouldn't have it any other way"

however, like everyone after high school, you and carmy hit a rough patch that sunk your relationship -- you were planning to go to college for business administration and carmy was leaving chicago to go to culinary school

you two definitely attempted everything in your power to stay together-late night skype calls, daily texts, hell you even offered to fly to new york to spend time together

but the more swamped you got with school and the more carmen got slammed with cooking (especially right before he went of to Noma), the more the truth begun to show itself

the breakup was messy, because it was less a breakup and more of ...

you: what are we doing right now? like, as a couple?

carmen: i think that i need to focus more on my career right now

you: oh, so..are we breaking up right now? (read 9:57PM)

you: carmen? (read 10:15)

you: ok, asshole, be that way (delivered)

that's right, that motherfucker ghosted you

despite the tumultuous ending of you and carmen's relationship, you were still close to sugar and mikey (and, unfortunately for you, richie)

sugar was adamant on flying over to copenhagen and have a "conversation" with her brother herself + mikey and richie were not too far behind on the cause

"it's fine guys. let's just all agree that carmen is a soft little bitch" you said, trying to lighten the mood even though you knew that you were still racking thru the pain being broken up with so suddenly

you deal with the breakup harshly at first, but you put a lot of that emotion towards your own growth

fast forward a couple years, you graduated college and are on the up-and-up in chicago as a successful business marketing manager

you get closer to the berzattos, strangely, as carmy gets more distant

you don't think of carmy much anymore but it grows harder as he wins awards and recognitions in his field that honestly make you..proud, in strange way

then, mikey dies...and a lot of things change for you

you help sugar and richie plan the funeral, and something sour sinks into your stomach when you don't see that familiar head of dirty blonde hair during the service

some months pass and you try to gather yourself and get back to normal after mikey's passing

richie invites you down to the beef one day to "catch up" randomly

you go, if not to just see tina and the rest of the crew but are met with great surprise when you see him

carmen motherfucking berzatto, in the flesh, standing behind the bar yelling to richie about something nonsensical

he stops yelling when he hears the door open and literally freezes in place when he sees you

you stare at him for a second, taking in the man who once had your heart, noting the new tattoos and the new way he styled his hair and he seems to be doing the same

then, richie breaks the silence--"oh my goodness, what are you doing here, sweetheart?"

you and carmy speak at the same time

"richie, you motherfucker"

"richie, you dick"

[beardedjoel]

butt dial | a pretty little wife mini chapter

joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨

summary: 2.3k words; you're home alone while joel is out with his brother. he butt dials you, and you hear some very interesting things. warnings: 18+ MDNI, no apocalypse au, pre-established sub/dom relationship/dynamic, dirty talk, pet names for reader, joel says some dirty ass shit about pretty wife, allusions to smut at the end a/n: just a short little ditty inspired by this ask - you're an absolute saint for putting this idea in my head it had me kicking and giggling my feet to think about and write. enjoy!!!

You sigh, leaning back on the couch and curling up a bit more. The blanket draped over you has fallen, so you tug it up a bit and snuggle your arms underneath the plush fabric. It still carries a lingering scent of Joel and you happily breathe it in as you train your eyes on the screen. You’ve put on a mushy romance film, the type Joel doesn’t typically jump at watching with you. It’s not that he won’t, because one look from your desperate eyes will have him rolling his and turning the movie you’ve requested on, anyways. But a man has his limits, and he’s said no more than one of that genre every few months.

Joel is out tonight with Tommy, grabbing drinks to fulfill their monthly tradition. They often have a beer at yours and Joel’s place, or go out for just one after work, maybe, but once a month they have a full-on night out. You encourage it, wanting Joel to stay close with his brother. You never had such a close relationship with your family like he does with his brother, and you know their tough upbringing drew them together. 

You also don’t mind having the house to yourself for the evening, you think with a wry smile, basking in the quiet comfort and being able to pick whatever form of entertainment without your well meaning husband griping about it. You’ve got on one of the newest rom-coms you’d noticed on Netflix the other day, and have a lazy smile as you watch, feeling fully content. You’d made a hearty batch of fried rice for dinner, leaving a plate made up in case Joel came home drunk and starving (he always did). 

A sudden trilling tone interrupts your daze, and you pause the movie and sit up to see your phone lit up and ringing. Joel’s name flashes on the screen, along with a photo of the two of you together, taken on a sunny day when you went hiking. It makes you smile briefly before worry settles in, wondering why he’s calling right now. It makes your stomach sink a bit, hoping he’s not gotten into trouble, or worse, hurt. You scramble to answer, your fingers fumbling with the buttons until you pull it to your ear, your breath hitching as you try to swallow and get the words out.

“H-hello?” you say quickly into the receiver, clutching it close to your ear. You hear a staticky sound, loud and grating as the call finally comes in. You yank it back from your ear, your brows knitting together in confusion. The sounds become a little clearer as you listen closer, and you can hear the buzz of multiple, overlapping conversations and music. You breathe out in relief as you realize Joel is okay, and nearly laugh at how worked up you got in the first place. Your mind just goes to that terrified place, wondering how the hell you’d ever live if something happened to him.

You almost hang up, smiling with the burst of relief when you catch the tail end of something Joel is saying. You know this was an accidental butt dial, and you really should hang up, but after your scare, you want to hear your husbands safe, comforting voice… just for a second. Just  a second, and then you’ll hang up, give him his privacy. 

You press the phone close to your ear, trying to make it out. You hear the distinct sound of both of the boys’ laughter, Joel and Tommy, and you can tell just from that noise that they’re well into their drinking for the night. It’s a lighthearted, deep laugh, one that he doesn’t do very often. It makes you smile and you sigh a little, putting your chin in your hand.

“-and then I fell right down, right there on the damn street… Theresa was pissed, lemme tell you…” you hear Tommy’s voice slurring out, a little distant but still clear enough to make out. Joel howls with laughter and you can picture him, trying not to choke on his sip of beer, clapping Tommy on the shoulder.

“Fuckinhellbrother,” Joel slurs, like it’s one full word.

“I know, I know. Your missus is lucky she ain’t out with us right now,” Tommy replies.

“She’d sure as hell be laughin’ at our asses, if ‘m honest.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of you. You feel a twinge of guilt press on you but you can’t find it in yourself to hang up just yet. You just want to hear a little bit more… you think devilishly to yourself.

“What’s she up to tonight? Probably sittin’ at home missin’ you,” Tommy teases his brother.

Joel chuckles. “Guarantee she loves it, probably got one of her sappy little movies on. Silly fuckin’ girl...” You smile at how well he knows you and press the phone a little closer.

“C’mon, know you watch ‘em with her, too,” Tommy slurs a bit.

“Can’t say no to a face like that… and a mouth like that…” Joel says boldly. You feel your eyes go wide and you hold back a gasp. You feel your cheeks starting to burn a little to hear the way Joel’s being so open with his brother, the implication behind his words heavy with innuendo.

“Chriiiiist, here wegoagain,” Tommy says quickly, slurring. You furrow your brow, picking up on the fact that Tommy has heard Joel talking like this before, like it’s completely normal for them. You start to feel a pleasant little swirl deep in your gut at the fact that Joel brags about those particular abilities of yours.

You think you hear them both chuckle a little bit. “Know I can’t help m’self Tommy. Fuckin’ body of an angel, mouth of a fuckin’ devil, lord. Could go on about it f’days.”

Tommy seems quiet for a moment, just listening. “You always brag too much, brother. ‘Sides, she says nothin’ but sweet things and you know it. Nicest little gal around.”

“Who said anything about the things she’s saying?” Joel quips back. 

“Fuckin’ hell. Yeah, I get it, your wife gives good head, yeah?” Tommy snips, but it sounds more playful than angry to you. 

You can picture your husband, face flushed from the alcohol and hair a little messy, leaning forward and grinning in that devilish way. “Suckin cocks’s not the only thing she’s good at. Practically everything, really, but lord does that woman know how to do just what I want. She’s a real good listener, my girl.” Your thighs clench together and you feel your breathing hitch. Just Joel basically calling you a good girl from afar has you feeling like an animal in heat all of a sudden. You throw the blanket off as you feel your body starting to warm up and a soft smile comes to your face. 

You hear silence from Tommy’s end, maybe too stunned to speak, clearly giving Joel permission to keep going.

“Y’know the best part? I got her listenin’ so good, she’ll do just about anythin’. Let me fuck her whenver I needta, you get me?”

“Christ Jesus, Joel, whatever the hell was in this fuckin’ beer got you too open tonight…”

“Can’t a man brag about his wife without gettin’ hounded? Jus’ wanted to share a lil love for my sweet gal.”

“Alright, alright, but shut the hell up now,” Tommy says with a howl of laughter, and the phone goes a little quieter, assuming Joel adjusted in his seat. 

“Jealous, jealous…” Joel taunts. 

“Shut. It. Or we’re gonna have a real bar fight on our hands here,” Tommy threatens teasingly. Their words continue to jumble a bit, and you can tell they’re both reaching close to their limit on beer and liquor for the evening. 

“Oh, fine,” Joel finally says, vowing to get off the topic. 

You feel a surge of pride that you witnessed something so special, so pure, despite the filthy things he was saying about the two of you. It just felt like pure love and adoration, even when you weren’t in the room to hear it. It makes your heart skip a little bit to know that Joel talks so highly of you even when he isn’t around you, going so far as to brag about such intimate things with his brother. You know it was lewd, but it made you feel that warm feeling you get whenever Joel shows you off in any way.

Lost deep in thought, you’ve already started to tune out their next batch of teasing and laughter as they move on to a new topic, so you decide to hang up the phone and let them get on with their night. 

You feel a lingering pride to be Joel’s wife sticking with you as you when you go back to watching the movie. Your heart feels so light and free right now, and you find yourself yearning for him to come home just so you can unload some of this love onto him as it bubbles up inside of you. 

Another hour and a half later, you hear keys jingling outside the door before the lock clicks and the front door swings open clumsily. Joel spots you instantly, curled up on the couch with a wide smile as soon as your eyes flick over to him. You sit up and stretch a little, taking in the full, broad form of him fumbling about as he walks in.

“Oh, hello there,” he says in a low, goofy voice. He stumbles in a little, a goofy smile on his face as he tries to take off his shoes. 

“Feelin’ good, handsome?” you tease him, trying not to laugh at how absolutely adorable your husband is when he’s a little drunk.

“Better ‘n good, now. Home with my pretty girl…” he coos. You stand up, bounding over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling yourself close as quickly as you can. 

“Oh,” he puffs out as you practically slam into his chest. One hand immediately wraps around your waist, drawing you closer, the heat of his hand burning through your thin tee shirt, and the other splays across the back of your head, pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. You moan quietly, a little desperate mewl climbing its way out of your throat as his lips devour you. You can taste his evening - beers and liquor and… a cigar? You should chastise him for that one, you think, but you know Tommy can be a bad influence so you let it slide in lieu of some more kisses from him. You deepen it and slide your tongue into his mouth, and he happily returns it, tongues skimming each other for a few moments before you pull back, gently biting his bottom lip on the way.

“Hell, what’d a guy do to deserve a kiss like that, hm?” Joel muses, a little tipsy sounding. His hand comes around your head to stroke your cheek, thumb lingering as he traces down the soft skin there.

“Just wanted to show you all the things I’m good at, since that’s what you said, right?” you tease him, knowing he likely won’t even be able to piece in together in his current state.

Joel’s face scrunches up a bit, his brows drawing together as he tries to wrack his hazy brain for any clue of what you’re referring to.

“Not just good for ‘suckin’ cock’?” you say, your voice low, a furtive little whisper right near his ear. You peel back a bit to see his eyes widen a little, more confused than ever.

“Wh-”

“Butt dial, darling,” you tell him, pecking his cheek.

Joel laughs, a nervous yet comfortable laugh, able to read you well enough to know you aren’t upset about what he said, just amused. His laugh turns to a low chuckle, a little mischievous glint in his eye. His hand slides down from the small of your back to you ass, giving it a gentle, swift pat.

 “And aren’t you a naughty girl for listenin’ in on my private conversation, hm?” he teases, bringing his lips within an inch of yours.

“Couldn’t help myself, had to hear what my husband really thinks of me.” You move your lips the slightest bit, brushing against his in a soft touch. “Good thing it’s not anything I didn’t already know…” You pull back suddenly, giving him a wink and putting a little space between the two of you.

“In that kind of mood tonight, are we, doll? Little bit bratty?” Joel asks with raised brows. “Gonna have to make you prove to me everything I told Tommy is true then, aren’t I?” Joel’s eyes go hungrier, a deep, feral need growing in his core and showing up right in his dark irises.

You shrug and turn to walk away, but Joel grabs onto your wrist, spinning you back against him. “Nuh uh, not so fast. You’re comin’ with me, darlin’” he spits out. In a split second his arms are on either side of your waist, hoisting you up and then tossing you over his shoulder so that your head is hanging down his back.

“H-hey!” You giggle, swinging your feet to try and get down, knowing it’s no use, and if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t want to escape, of course. Not from a hold this good.

Joel’s hand reaches up and smacks your ass hard as he carries you towards the stairs. “Now let’s go and you can tell me all about everything you heard me sayin’ tonight.”

You smile wide, feeling your mind and body already buzzing for your husband and all the things he seemed to have in store for you. It was going to be a fun night, indeed.

plw taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito @msmorningstaarr @kamcrazy123 @madhere @paleidiot @saverockandroll54 @daddy-din

[fadingdaggerr]

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

[nerdygaymormon]

Thoughts on Queer People as part of the Eternal Family

That word "the" is important! In our church we usually speak of eternal families like there's a bunch of individual ones and we're hoping to turn our earthly family into one of them. But in LDS theology, we are all linked together to form the great family of God.

“For we without them cannot be made perfect; neither can they without us be made perfect.” (D&C 128:18). Everyone talking about being exalted without their LGBTQ+ family members WON’T BE. Our theology is one of inclusion, expansion, and progress. Our work is not done. If same-gender couples and trans people aren’t exalted, NO ONE will be. We cannot be pro-family and anti-LGBTQ+ at same time. 100% of LGBTQ+ people are from families and are part of God's eternal family. 

Being a queer member of the LDS Church means I tense up a little every time I hear the word "family" spoken in church, but it shouldn't be that way. I try to remember that Jesus didn't create a single traditional family during His lifetime. He never performed a marriage. He didn't get married. He didn't have children. Instead, Jesus redefined family by constructing a chosen family. Jesus created a new way of doing family, one which could include everyone.

Unfortunately, this chosen family approach isn't the model of family emphasized in our church, which means all the goals in our church are designed for straight people, and that's not me so it feels like I will never measure up. Our church has a doctrinal gap about what happens to anyone in the afterlife who isn't in a man+woman marriage, including singles and queer people. I believe I'm included in God's plan, just not in the Church's version of God's plan. 

Humans crave to love and be loved, to have companionship, we have a God-given sex drive (this is not meant to dismiss my aro/ace friends, I'm speaking in generalities). How cruel for people to be created this way and then told these things are not for us and we are to shut down these fundamental parts of who we are. We're to be miserable in this life for a shot a happiness after death. Does this sound like the plan of a loving God? Especially when everyone else is offered a win/win proposition to find happiness in this life and it will carry over to the other side. 

I have a feeling that Latter-day Saints are going to be deeply surprised at who all makes it to the Celestial Kingdom, and at how loving our Heavenly Parents are, and how family structures & sealings are going to be far more inclusive than many currently believe. What I know is God is in charge, ultimately God will win. The Godly approach in attitude, whether it’s on matters of race, gender, or sexual orientation, God will win and we will be the one eternal family because that’s the way He’s designed it. We won’t be pushing others away and singling them out as “them.” It’ll be “us.” In the interim, those of us who are deemed “the other,” whatever the “other” is, need to recognize that God will win. 

[oasiswithmyg]

Smon ‘eveng (Familiar child)

Eetu x Sarentu!Reader

Summary: It's been 8 years since you and the others have driven out most of the RDA. Now you enjoy your peaceful life with Family. But misunderstanding between your two boys want to ruin the peace.

Word count: 3.1K

It is a peaceful and sunny day in Pandora, only the sounds of the forest could be heard this afternoon. It had been many years since most of the Sky people had been driven out. Although there were a few units that remained, there were more intense wars that had occurred. Fewer Na’vis would be injured, peace had slowly become the normal for the People. 

Today, however, a young Na’vi child could be seen climbing onto one of the machines that was left by the Sky people. The machine had plantations growing over it and was rusted due to the years gone by and Pandora taking the land back from them. The boy’s face was pulled into determination and curiosity as he explored the RDA scorpion, he remembered his mother telling her stories about fighting them. Just as he was about to reach the top, a voice shouting to him could be heard.

“NA’LUK! Get down from there right this instant!”

The boy, Na’luk grumbled and turned to look down at his sempul (father) who had a stern expression on his face and with his arms folded across his chest from what he could see. He wished it would have been his mother who found h- ‘wait, no that would be even worse’ Na’luk thought to himself as he slowly climbed down the RDA machine. Jumping off one the ledges closer to the ground. As he came closer to his sempul, he noticed that the frown was even deeper.

“We are going home. Now.” Eetu stated, his voice leaving no room for argument, before walking in the direction of their kelkul. Na’luk followed, having done this many times, he knew not to argue with his sempul. He just wished you, his mother wouldn’t be home. 

After a while they arrived at the kelkul (home) within the Aranahe clan, the home made by Eetu and you together. After a confession from Eetu, you both had been courting each other for a while. Then when you and the others had finally defeated Mercer, Eetu formally asked you to be his mate as per tradition and took you as his muntxate (wife) under Eywa. You decided to stay with the Aranahe clan most of the time, while also making sure to visit Ri’nela, Teylan and Nor.

You remember very well 8 years ago when you had informed Eetu you were pregrant for the first time, he picked you up and spun you in happiness. You both had gone on an Ikran ride to celebrate, Eetu finally had the courage to bond with another Ikran. Which later became a ritual to go on Ikran riding dates. Etuwa had become a godmother, a term you learned from the Resistance and bestowed upon her. She had been very happy to hear, both her and Nefika had given you so many gifts for the baby as well as you. Eetu had become much more responsible in those years as the preganacy progressed, the birth of your son, as he grew, when you became pregnant again and finally during the birth of your daughter, Limi.

Back to the present, they both noticed you and Limi were not there. You must have taken Limi and gone to talk with Etuwa then. Eetu heads to the middle of the kelkul and turns around to face his son. Watching him closely as well as looking over Na’luk to see if he could have been hurt, his worry clouding his mind at just getting them home.

Eetu did not know what to do in this situation. How much can he explain to his son that the Sky people are dangerous? that they will take everything they love. On one hand he is happy his boy is exploring and learning the ways of the people, but on the other he does want him to get hurt.

“Do you know how worried your mother was when she found Limi searching for you while crying? You had promised your little sister that you would play with her. Instead you were out there doing dangerous things. What if something had happened to you?” Na’luk flinched and felt guilty when he heard his sempul say that. He did not want to make you or his little sister feel sad ever. He didn’t mean to make his family worried, he just wanted to show his sempul that he was brave and courageous like him.

Eetu sighed as he could see that his son felt remorse at the situation. He just wanted him to understand that something could have happened to him. 

They then could hear your voice coming closer as you were consoling a little Na’vi girl who was crying with her arms around your neck, while you were hugging her and walking towards the entrance of your kelkul while whispering sweet words to her. Your ears twitched as you heard signs of presence within the kelkul. You headed inside and sighed in relief to see that your son was safe. You then looked towards your mate, expressing gratitude.

You slowly coaxed your child to turn around to see her big brother and sempul. Limi gasped and tried to get down to rush towards her brother, she immediately jumped into Na’luk’s open arms. Her sniffles are muffled by her hugging her brother tightly in her arms. Na'luk apologizes to his sister, feeling sad that he made her cry and worry.

You walk over to Eetu, placing your hands on his chest and placing a kiss on the corner of his lips. Your tail curling around him. “Thank you for bringing our son home, oeyä muntxatan (my husband). ” Eetu just smiled, the smile not reaching his eyes for once due to the worry for his son. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips as a response.

“Can you take Limi inside for now? I need to discuss with our son the dangerous situation could have been in.” Eetu said in a strained voice.

You nodded, whispered a ‘don’t be hard on him’  to Eetu and gently picked up Limi, who was slowly falling asleep in her brother's arms, tired out from all the crying. Na’luk gave you a guilty look and apologized, “I’m sorry sa’nok, I didn’t want to make you so worried.” You just smiled at him and rubbed the top of his head affectionately before heading to another part of the kelkul to give Eetu the privacy to talk and put Limi down for a nap.

Na’luk felt even more guilty when he didn’t hear his sa’nok say anything back. He turned towards his sempul, feeling ashamed that he made him worried and angry as well. But the next words that Eetu uttered were so shocking that it made him gasp and left him heartbroken.

“I thought I taught you to be better than this. I’m disappointed in you Na’luk.” Eetu was too frustrated and concerned at what could have happened to his precious son, to notice how his words had affected Na’luk. All he wanted was for his son to understand his advice. 

However, when he finally looked at his son’s face, who had tears running down his cheeks, he immediately felt cold regret wash over, not meaning he words at all and walked towards towards him to say, “Na’luk, oeyä ‘eve (my boy), I’m sorry I-” but he was cut off when Na’luk pushed him away, his little body trembling, trying to stifle his cries. 

The young boy looked at Eetu with betrayal on his face and shouted, his voice shaking, “n-nga ve’kì  oer! (I hate you!). I…I only wanted to show you that I could be brave like you!” Before Eetu could stop him, Na’luk runs out of the kelkul without looking back, heading in the direction to the where they would usually go to fish and play in the water.

Eetu curses under his breath, his tail curling in agitation and puts a hand over his face due the frustration coursing over him. He could hear your footsteps slowly come closer to him and felt you hug him from behind, your arms and tail circling him in comfort. Your presence itself was always a comfort to him. Eetu places his other hand on yours and rbs circles in it.

You pull your arms back to face him and place your hands on his face to turn him towards you, his eyes clouded with frustration and hurt, “What is wrong, oeyä tsamsiyu (my warrior)? Why would you say such a thing to Na’luk when I know you don’t mean it?” You ask him gently, caressing his face. He just sighs, burrowing his face in your hands to collect his thoughts on what to say.

You signed softly looking at your poor mate. After so many years, He had become responsible after Zomey’s death, understanding that heading first thing into battle was not always the solution. He also became protective over you after you both mated, with you fighting the RDA and always travelling as the Sarentu envoy. But it had only become much worse when you almost lost your life due to Harding nearly killing you, a scar was left as a reminder. After that day, Eetu was always worried that the Sky People would take his happiness away again.

Especially now with this situation with Na’luk, he was every bit like his father in looks as well as personailty, the only difference in his appearance was having your eyes. But, seeing Na’luk was like seeing Eetu in his younger days.

After finally thinking it over, Eetu looked you in the eyes, his gaze looked defeated and slowly opened his mouth to let the the words he has been keeping in his mind, “I do not want him to be like me.” Your eyes widen in concern over the whispered words. You continued caressing his face, your eyes letting him know that he could continue and that you would listen, “When I see Na’luk, I see me when I was younger and reckless. I see myself when I thought being courageous and adventurous was the only thing that mattered. I see myself when I had lost Zomey and when I had almost lost you. I’m scared that if he becomes like me, either h would be hurt or he will lose someone he loves.”

You immediately hug your mate, feeling sorrow that your mate was going through this, although you knew the situation, Eetu had always wanted to be the one to solve it. You then pull back to make tsaheylu (bond), pulling his tswin (braid) towards yours, to make the bond. You both sigh at the feeling, even after so many years, the bond always felt strong as the first. You immediately send your love and strength to him through the bond.

You think over your next words that you wish to say to him, you finally decide to say, “Eetu, my love,  do not be afraid. You are both at heads with each other because you both do not convery which is in your heart.” Eetu looks confused at that, not understanding what you meant.

You just smile, “If you want our boy to understand, you have to tell him the story the RDA and of you and Zomey, of why you are so worried about him. He only sees your frustration, not your reason for it.” You look down at his tail curing around one of your leg and continue, “Our boy is so confused right now, he sees the brave warrior that you are that protects the clan and he sees you as his inspiration for this. His warrior father, that is what he sees. He is just a little boy that loves his sempul so much and wants to be like him. So instead teach him to be the you that you are proud of today. Not of your past.”

It feels like something clicked in Eetu’s brain after hearing your words. Why did he not think of that? Eetu can never thank you enough for the love you give him and to your family. You were always a guiding star to them. Eetu grins, his familiar grin just like the day when you first met and even till date it still made your heart flutter. 

Eetu felt happy at your reaction and the feeling of love and a slight bit of lust passing through the bond. He projects his thoughts to you, ensuring that your needs would be very much satisfied after talking with his son. Your eyes widen and you lightly whack him on the chest, trying to hide how much he affected you.

Eetu pulls you closer to kiss you, his tail curling around your leg even more tightly, as a thank you and a promise for more later. You both pull back, plcng your forehead’s together and smiling at one another. Before Eetu slowly pulls back and gently breaks the bond, to head over to where his son had run off. You look at him and pray to Eywa that all will be well, before deciding to make some dinner.

Rushing water can be heard as Eetu nears closer to the lake that he and Na’luk love to fish. Eetu uses his senses to look for his boy and finds him sitting on a rock with his knees bent towards his chest and his face buried between them. Eetu gently approaches him, making sure his footsteps are heard to announce his arrival and he can see that Na’luk notices him when he sees his little ears twitch in his direction.

Eetu sits down as well facing the lake but keeping some space between so as to not overwhelm Na’luk. They both sit in silence for a while, only letting the sounds of the forest and the little sniffles that Na’luk let out could be heard. A fish splashes the water in the distance.

Finally Eetu speaks, making Na’luk peek at him from his position, “I’m so sorry, Maitan. I did not mean to hurt you with such words” Na’luk furrows his hairless brows at his sempul and questions in a low voice, his tone uncertain, “Then why did you say them? It hurt”

Eetu frowns at that, wanting to hug his son as an apologise, not wanting to hear such a low voice again, “because you are already like me when I was younger, Na’luk. I was scared because of that.”  He scooches closer and faces Na’luk to continue, “I was so reckless and adventurous when I was young. That it cost me to close my Ikran Zomey.”

Na’luk looks up at this, shocked that his father was speaking about this. He had always heard stories of his father and his first Ikran Zomey. How they fought viciously against the RDA and won. But whenever, he would ask his father for a story of him and Zomey, Eetu would clamp up, his voice strained, not explaining much and he could see the way you would comfort his sempul. After that he hadn’t asked his father again, not wanting to hurt him.

Eetu notices his interest and smiles sadly as he tells the story, “It was just after some time I had met your sa’nok, I found a group of the Sky People destroying our lands. I could not sit still, I immediately rushed to fight them all by myself. But when I jumped into one of their demon machines, I was locked within it and my beautiful Ikran Zomey fought against those demons with all her might.”

Na’luk’s eyes widened, his tail curling in worry for the Ikran. He places a hand on his fathers arm, just as his sa’nok did when she comforted his sempul. Eetu's smile widens at this, you might say that Na’luk was just like him, but his gentle heart came from you.

“Your sa’nok helped Zomey fight, as she is a strong warrior and tried to free me from that contraption, getting locked in herself. When we finally got out, I was injured and could not walk as fast. Your mother looked for Zomey and found her. She was on her last breath, I was able to send her off with you mother. To this day I regret being so reckless. It is why I do not want you to be like that”

Eetu looks towards the sky, remembering the time he almost lost you as well. He looks towards his son, who had tears gathering at his eyes, hearing such a sorrowful story. Eeut pulled him closer to his side as he continues with another story, knowing that his son loved hearing about his mother “You sa’nok is one of the strongest warriors I know, she would fight of the RDA and would help reunite clans together.” Na’luk’s eyes shone in excitement at that, wanting to hear more of it.

“But, when in one of the most intense wars that had happened, You sa’nok was almost taken from us by those demons. They hurt so much” Na’luk gasped, you were almost gone? His strong and brave sa’nok? Eetu could see the agitation in his son, exactly as he had felt when he experienced it. “It is why i’m always worried when you try to explore those places with those death machines. I do not want you to be hurt. I do not want you to experience such loss as I did my boy.”

Hearing such words, Na’luk climbed into his father’s lap as quickly as he could and hugged him tightly, finally understanding why his father was always so stern with him only when he would explore those areas. “Ngaytxoa sempul (Sorry father), I really just wanted to prove to you I can be brave and protect sa’nok, you and Limi. I now know that I have to be responsible.”

Eetu hugged his son back just as tightly and laughed lightly at his boy’s words, “You are young my boy, for as long as I’m there I will always protect our family. You just learn to live well and be happy, Na’luk. That’s all me and your mother want for you and Limi.”

The two continues to hug for a while before deciding to play in the water to bring about a playful mood. They play fight well into the night and they then hear you calling to them, taht dinner is done. They head back with Eetu lifting his son up, noticing how quickly the time passes by as his son is almost too big for him to hold like he did when he was a toddler.

Eetu see you mixing what he assumes is dinner in the pot, as Limi is playing with a doll crafted by Ri’nela. You feel his gaze and smile at him, happy to see your boys free from the burdens they had. 

‘Irayo Eywa, for bringing her into my life, for giving me family and happiness’

∘ Sempul - Father.

∘ Sa'nok - Mother.

∘ Kelkul - Home, house.

∘ Muntxate - Wife.

∘ oeyä - My.

∘ Muntxatan - Husband.

∘ ‘eve - boy.

∘ nga ve’kì  oer - I hate you.

∘ tsamsiyu - Warrior.

∘ tsaheylu - Bond.

∘ tswin - Braid.

∘ Ngaytxoa - Sorry.

∘ Irayo - Thanks.

[ang3l0fde4th4ndd0gs]

1971: Harry Potter What if Series Book One:

CONTENT WARNING: CHILD ABUSE, NEGLECT, MINOR BULLYING

Chapter One:

Word Count: 2,436

The Black family manor usually quieted down around eight pm. Today seemed to be different though. Perhaps it was the special occasion but Sirius was used to his parents' strict properness policies. No one in the house who didn't live there after dinner had ended, always polite conversation to family and follow every direction and every tradition that was ever imposed. Arranged marriages, business deals, perfect grades, perfect proper people or else you were disowned for being a blood traitor. The newest policy was that when you turned 16, not only did your parents make a marriage match for you with someone who was deemed perfect who happened to be part of your family in their attempt to keep the blood pure, you were forced to take the dark mark which was a way of selling the rest of your life to The Dark Lord, Voldemort. 

Sirius Black, the eldest of the children in the Noble House of Black didn't believe any of that, however. He believed that he was meant for something different. Not that he was quiet about that. Though in the last few years since his brother had started to become considered the favourite, he'd become louder about it than he was as a younger child, consistently voicing his opinions due to his hope that his parents would leave him alone and his strong willpower to be different than the older generations of his family had been. 

Sirius woke up in his darkened bedroom to hear the soft knocking of his younger brother's knuckles on his bedroom door. The older boy looked up at the clock that hung on the wall above his simple four post bed; 21:10. 

"Sirius, come on."Regulus' hushed voice came from the other side of his battered door, the sound echoing more due to the holes caused by his mother's constant habit of throwing things at it to get Sirius' attention. 

"What do you need, Reg?"

"I can't sleep. Thought we could talk."

"I leave tomorrow, Reggie. I need sleep."

"Exactly. Just talk for a few minutes. Please."

"Fine. Door's unlocked anyway."

Regulus opened the door and quietly shuffled in. Even in his tired, clearly cautious state, he looked proper and put together even though he was only nine years old. He quietly shut the door behind him and padded nearly silently toward his older brother's bed. Sirius sat up out of habit as his brother took his usual seat next to him on the mattress.

"It's only a year, Reggie. And it isn't like I won't be home soon anyway."Sirius whispered, as he was resting his hands behind him and leaning back against them to look down at his brother.

Regulus shifted awkwardly in his seat. "One year where our parents are oddly quiet, yes. Where you aren't here to at least keep me company through the family gatherings that drag on so much that I wish I could just sink into the floor. Much less make me crack a smile. I hate to say it but I'll miss that."

Sirius scoffs in mock offense, pulling a face at his brother. "You say that like you don't enjoy it, Reggie."

"Well the name leaves some scarring, I will admit."Regulus' lips curled into a slight amused smile.

A snorting laugh escaped Sirius' mouth before Regulus quickly clasped his hands over Sirius' mouth. 

"You're going to get us caught."Regulus scolded his older brother, voice still in a whisper.

"I'm sorry. But you're kind of funny when you're not being so... Prim and proper."

"You must be so impressed-"

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

The memory is swiftly cut off with a sharp smack to the back of Sirius' head. He winces at the feeling. 

"Sirius, pay attention."Walburga says forcefully in the raven-haired boy's ear.

"Just thinking."the boy says, clutching the handle of his black leather suitcase in the palm of his hand a bit tighter in a less than successful attempt to ground himself.

"Clearly."

Sirius does everything he can to force himself to focus on his surroundings. His mother's pole-straight posture as she walks at his side, her pale skin and sharp features making it difficult not to think about the past few years of his childhood, especially the last few awful weeks which she and his father, Orion, had used as their final attempts to whip him into shape before he was headed off to Hogwarts. He forced himself to look away from her, tracing the red bricks of the train platform with his gaze, watching the cobblestones at his feet pass by as he continues forward to the doors of the train.

"Sirius Orion."Walburga snaps when it seems to Sirius that he's finally calmed himself down a little. "Are you even listening to me?"

Sirius speeds up his pace as he walks down the train platform, his mother following close behind while Regulus and Orion have fallen into step not even three paces behind the two. Much to his disdain, his mother catches up immediately. Sirius manages at the last second to speed up just enough to get on the train as two boys in his year follows close on his heels. For a moment, he's thankful he was able to tune his mother's words out even briefly although as always, he knows all too well that she'll only repeat them later.

Relieved to finally get away from his so-called parents, Sirius slumps down into one of the benches that sits in one of the booths in the back of the train. Before his parents can have a chance to find out which car he sat in, he yanks the shade down over the window of the car. Someone knocks on the doorframe of the train car. 

"May I sit?"a shy blonde boy with a chubby stature who stands at about 4'3", nearly 6 inches shorter than Sirius himself is. The boy's voice is barely audible.

"Sure, go for it."Sirius replies, waving the boy off as he rests his elbow on the top of his suitcase which sits against the window beside him and props his chin up on the palm of his hand. 

The boy quietly toddles in, nearly as quiet as Regulus though the taller, mocha skin coloured boy who follows him is not quite as poised. 

"Hiya! I'm James Potter! This here is Peter Pettigrew-"the boy slaps the smaller boy who'd trailed in before him on the back in a comradery sort of way.

"Sirius."the black haired boy mutters in reply, sitting up straight and folding his hands in his lap, slightly tilting his chin to look up at the two boys that now sit on the bench across from him in the train car. 

"What was that, mate?"James replies, still sounding awfully cheerful, a nice change from the dark and gloomy composure of his family.

Sirius cheers up slightly at the thought that maybe there are others like him, cheerful and not nearly as worried about being correct as his family had raised him to be. "Sirius. Sirius Orion Black the third."the formerly solemn boy repeats, putting emphasis on the end of his name like he'd gotten used to. 

"B-Black...?"the Pettigrew boy mumbles. 

"Yes. Is that some sort of problem?"Sirius felt a slight churn in his stomach at the his fellow student's slight discomfort.

"Pete's a little wary of some of the more well known pureblood families."Potter responds. 

"May I ask why?"Sirius mutters not sure if he even wants the response, slumping back into his seat.

"I watched her... her hit you. Y-your mother."Peter mumbles.

"Yes, yes she did. Doesn't everyone's?"

"No!"James and Peter reply in a worried-sounding chorus. 

Sirius opens his mouth to speak once more but closes it as a boy with messy, dirty blonde hair and slightly oversized uniform robes walks into the train car, sitting down next to Sirius without saying a word. Sirius cocks an eyebrow at the boy. 

"And you are?"Sirius pipes up without even thinking.

"R-remus Lupin..."the boy replies, barely audible like Peter but sounding less proper. 

"Sounds-"

"Yes?"he interrupts the Black house heir, seeming more annoyed now as he meets Sirius' grey-blue eyes.

"Common."Sirius says, confident despite being interrupted. The two boys sitting opposite Remus and Sirius begin giggling at the boy's response.

"Clearly you have something to say about that."

"Well yes I do. What are you doing with three purebloods? We're noble families, you know."

"There was n'where else to sit. So I suppose we'll just have to get along."

James and Peter fall silent. "I suppose we will."Sirius replies in unwilling agreement. 

Finally, the train starts moving, beginning the few hour long journey to Hogwarts. 

"So Remus, where are you from?"James asks, clearly trying to change the now somber mood. 

"Wales."Remus mutters in response, twiddling his thumbs as he watches out the window across the walkway from the cabin the four share.

James pulls the string on the bottom of the window shade closest to him and opens the window. "I'm from London. Sorry about Sirius by the way he's not used to outside life yet."

"Outside life?"Remus asks, sounding slightly dazed and uninterested as he looks out the newly uncovered window. 

"He's used to everyone around him being pureblood."

"Pureblood? Wha's that?"Remus finally makes eye contact with James, revealing a scar on his cheek.

"Means both of your parents are of magical families."

"Never heard of that."

"I can tell. He'll warm up though, right Black?"

Sirius looks over at James, cocking an eyebrow up at him, annoyed. 

"Get used to it? Come on. Get used to a filthy half breed around me constantly?"Sirius snaps.

The train car goes silent and Sirius feels his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. For the rest of the ride to the castle, the whole train car is silent. The four can't seem to separate even so. Sirius stays silent though he seems to still walk with the same poised confidence he had before despite the embarrassment of before.

The entire Slytherin table which sits on the far end of the Great Hall seems to watch him when he walks down the walkway between the four tables. He stands near the front of the crowd, internally praying that he won't be noticed. He adjusts his still perfect-looking uniform and waits quietly, chin up as he watches the sorting hat be placed on each student's head, though he's tuned out the names. Instead of listening, he looks at the room around him, seeming to pick out each person he's related to. However, as he's always done, he can tell the person in command of the whole room sits quietly at the front of the room in an extravagant gold metal chair that could pass for a throne if Sirius hadn't known that it was sitting a member of the Ministry Of Magic. He recognized the grey haired man immediately; Albus Dumbledore. 

The professor seemed to hold an aura of power over the entire room. You didn't have to know him personally to know who he was, especially at Hogwarts. Noone quite knew how he'd gotten to where he was in the place that he was. But everyone understood, this was a man that you would never want to cross. Despite his kind demeanor, he could do anything he wanted. Sirius had the sense that there's nothing that the old man wouldn't do. He was used to that sort of gut feeling, the feeling that he was in the presence of someone he should fear or would need to beat. Though this man makes it difficult to tell which Sirius would need to do. 

"Sirius Black."Minerva McGonagall calls his name after going through what seemed like a hundred other students whose names fell before his name in alphabetical order. 

Sirius walked up the steps and up to the stool in front of him with a style, confidence and swagger that only he could have. He takes his seat like he's about to be crowned king, shoulders back in perfect, refined posture. 

"A Black, I see. Pureblood."the hat speaks in his head like his parents and cousins always told him it would.

Please. Anything but Slytherin. Sirius begs in his thoughts, hoping that it doesn't show on his face. 

His family members seem to get more worried as they watch Sirius sit on the podium, Sirius pays them no mind, only glancing over at them before looking at the acquaintances he'd made on the train who didn't seem to care who he was related to. 

"GRYFFINDOR!"the hat, still sitting atop his head finally shouts, its voice echoing through the great hall. 

Despite Sirius' internal thankfulness for his preference being taken into consideration, he still sits there speechless, as do the rest of his peers. He'd expected Ravenclaw, he'd always been a bright child. But Gryffindor was a shock to him. His two older cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix stare up at him in disbelief. 

"Mr. Black, please take your seat."McGonagall reminds Sirius gently as she removes the old hat from his head and sets it aside. 

Silently, Sirius rises from his seat, regaining his composure as he fakes a wild smirk and walks to the Gryffindor table, sitting down. For the rest of the ceremony, the only names he seems to hear are Remus Lupin, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. Sirius couldn't believe his luck, at least the Potter and Pettigrew boys were sorted into the same house. He couldn't care less about Lupin, though the boy was also sorted into Gryffindor. 

After the ceremony ended, Dumbledore seemed to make food appear on the plates in front of them, drinks appeared in goblets and pitchers and there seemed to be an endless amount of them. Despite the fact that Sirius was indifferent and somewhat disapproving of the Lupin boy before, he found it intriguing when he put four different spreads onto four triangles of toast, piling his plate with sweets and any food that was set in front of him. Sirius could hardly pay attention to his own food because he was so busy watching the clearly very common boy. 

Full version:

Slowly working on updates but so far this one's taking more time than most of my books do.

Eventually once I've gotten several chapters finished on Quotev, it'll be posted on Ao3 as well.

[pheiral]

Let's talk about father of the year, Ryuga Tokisada.

It'll be inevitable to ramble about Mizuki and Gegero too because Tokisada are such a good foil to Kitaro's fathers. Beware of spoilers and personal interpretation just for my own conveniences

Ryuga's new year fortunes details what aspect of Mizuki and Gegero that each Ryuga family foil for

Tokisada's fortune: "We should believe in and entrust the next generation without being proud of our past efforts" (mtl)

- Unlike Gegero who sacrifice himself for his son and Mizuki who's not proud of his war experience. Tokisada is a selfish character with massive ego, as if his big portrait at the bottom of the well isn't enough sign...

Tokisada and Hinamatsuri

the cake Tokisada ate, Hishimochi (square one in the picture) is something to be eaten at March 3rd, but genazo is set on summer. He also arrange his corpse as the only Emperor (god) instead of properly arranged hina dolls.

This is festival that pray for daughter good health, but you know how he treat his daughters and he's only praying for his own health and longevity. His kingdom is for himself and no one else.

During the will reading, we can see Tokisada's portrait hung onto the dragon's body. This kind of dragon are often referred as godly being.

So many things are show how much this man think himself as god. Remember how to open the secret door, they need to stab the general statue's nostril, this geezer sure love to descreate traditions and it'll bite him.

Hinamatsuri arrangement need to be done perfectly or else it'll be bad luck for the daughter, but Tokisada's arrangement is suited for himself...in a way he got it coming for being so disrespectful.

💩

Now onto Tokisada's final scene in the movie because it contrast so well with Kitaro's fathers

Everyone probably recognize how these two scene have a lot of similarities.

Kitaro's trademark sound is karan koron that come from his Geta, making us hear the sound of the axe against the stairs and sound of Gegero's geta sent me chills and makes me very excited

Gegero first appearance in the village and Mizuki's climbing the stair..they climbed it for the sake of others and opening new path. Gegero meeting Mizuki changed his trajectory of life, Mizuki climbing the stairs helped yureizoku.

Some more differences i love:

- Color scheme fitting their respective theme colors

- Liquid that make them wet (rain for crybaby Gegero and blood for blood bank worker/ex soldier Mizuki)

- What they do after arriving at the destinations. Gegero who try to defuse the situation calmly and gently, offered to talk together, get ignored by humans anyway but saved by Mizuki vs Mizuki who come to chop some geezer, offered rewards and wealth by the geezer, he ignored the offer anyway with loud objection (which is also rejection to his future, the abominable path Mizuki might take if he continue with his current way of living)

- Both of them have the other see them as they walk up the stairs, what kind of feeling they have in respective scenes.

💩 back to Tokisada.

He too climb the stairs. No heavy distinct sound except his pathetic cry of help because this man ideal weight as much as the sound of his steps. He climb for himself after pissing his pant from fear (if gegero blue is tears, mizuki red is blood...tokisada yellow is piss lol).

We don't see him rise from below like Kitaro's fathers but instead from his back as he ran being chased, but his path is blocked by his own gigantic portrait. The one who see him only Kyokotsu who is out for revenge instead of the feeling of camaraderie that's evoked by Kitaro's fathers in shoots above.

Tokisada's dialogue as he arrive as his dead end is pleading for his life pathetically, which is of course ignored by the inhuman kyokotsu.

I love to think these shots all culminate onto Kitaro's birth as he dig himself out while bawling. As Mizuki heard the baby cry for help, he almost ignored it and then he heard sound of Gegero's geta...he finally help Kitaro just like when he helped Gegero.

Anyway..

About Tokisada final form, poop ball

The pearl clutched by dragon is called pearl of wisdom look so much like yellow ball Tokisada but it's just a mockery of the true pearl of wisdom.

Fun fact: during the will reading, Katsunori sit at the dragon's maw side while Tokimaro sit near the pearl side which can be seen as foreshadowing of him as next vessel for Tokisada.

Now back to yellow ball Tokisada, both him and Gegero lose their body. Tokisada last shown body part is his eyes, so you can't help but think of Medama Oyaji. Their difference make it much better

Tokisada forever trapped at the bottom of the well, spent 70 years to get that far at the movie beginning only to fall again. He's opposite of Gegero who only retain his eye and lose all his flesh. Tokisada is only compressed blended flesh, dunno if it's possible for him to even see anything in that state. They're both very round but Medama able to move around and feel the world despite everything, Tokisada can only roll and scream.

He scream but has no mouth, which is interesting to compare with the visual of forbidden island. The island seen together with it's reflection look like shut lips despite loud screams coming out of that island.

💩

Just a little thought, Mizuki and Gegero both wear something on their wrists

Gegero with his bracelet woven from ancestors spirit hair that signify everlasting time vs Mizuki with wristwatch that symbolize his limited time. That bracelet is his kin while Mizuki's watch is an object

Tokisada doesn't wear such thing, but he has his own "time piece" aka the name Toki- that mean time. He treated his family members like object. He want to be eternal but his entire fortune are now destroyed.

💩

Tokisada's lore can be seen as homage to Shigeru Mizuki older works which can be read from [3, rue des Mystères]

Collection of short stories. From what I can gather, these are the stories that's have similarities with genazo plot:

- 怪奇鮮血の目 a story about oldman who want to inherit all his riches to a young man. Only to exchange body with a young man, so the young man is left with his near death body.

- 墓を掘る男 man who dig skulls out of grave and fall to hell

- ???, a thief drink elixir of immortality with grave consequences that leave him unable to die even when his body get mutilated

[likeshipsonthesea]

I love your recent posts about Eddie and Shannon and their relationship. I just don’t see how the show can address any of that with the way they’ve written this arc. There’s no one who can criticise Eddie’s feelings of ‘she was the love of my life, I’m broken without her’ except us the audience. There are no characters who saw their relationship as it actually was, so how can the show steer Eddie in that direction? I feel like they’re gonna leave it as she’s his Great Dead Love and that’s that

i see what you mean, and tbh i'm not sure what the show is going to do with this arc on-screen. they have a bunch of storylines to tie up in this finale episode (here's hoping we don't get any cliffhangers 🤞) and i don't know how much time they will have to devote to eddie, or even what they want to do with that time. it's possible they have a completely different perspective on this and will take it a whole other way, but i have faith that the show will tell the story they want to tell and, if the past six seasons are any indication, i will enjoy that story

all that being said, if we're talking dream arc, this is what i would want

as far as who can tell eddie "hey, you're looking at your marriage with rose-colored glasses, this is how it actually is," i've got two ideas for this. one is eddie himself, and the second is his parents, specifically helena, who has been rumored to be in the s7 finale. i'm kinda more excited about the second, so let's get the first one out of the way

eddie himself - hopefully after the clusterfuck that is explaining to his son that he's been seeing a dead ringer for his dead mom and she cosplayed as mommy to give eddie closure, eddie will talk about this in therapy, and through the skills he's learned and a frank discussion (pun intended) he will be forced to confront the reality of his marriage and start to address the trauma he has from everything with shannon

p cut and dry, my typical eddie-goes-to-therapy kinda story. we've all been here before.

now, for the good stuff 😈 (putting this under a read-more bc i have Thoughts)

helena. the diaz mother we all know and have complicated feelings over. or not-so-complicated feelings over, given the "don't drag [chris] down with you" line. i know i keep asking y'all to think of things from the white woman's perspective, but bear with me just one moment while i do this again

helena married into a large mexican family in the 80s. she had a mother in law whose cooking was renowned, a husband always away on business, and three children to bring up along with keeping her home together. given how everyone in their family seemed to treat shannon, i'm gonna go out on a limb here and assume there were some heavy expectations on helena to be the wife everyone thought ramon deserved, and i'm gonna assume that meant a lot of tradition--cooking the right things, doing the holidays the right way, teaching the kids the right values, etc. etc.

i think it was hard. i think helena didn't always meet the expectations put on her. i know it was played as a joke, but during ramon's retirement party, eddie and pepa were concerned that helena was cooking a specific dish (i can't remember which one atm) until abuela assured them she was in charge of it. meaning this is probably a running joke, helena not cooking things as well as she ought to.

also, raising three kids with a physically absent husband in a town that (i'm assuming) is full of in-laws seems hard to me, too. (if this is sounding familiar, yes i'm about to make a shannon comparison just gimme another second). the stories we hear about eddie as a kid are yes, reflections of traditional masculinity and eddie falling short of that, but also reflections on his parenting--how could helena let her son try to cook? that should be her job, she should be watching him! how could she let him try to drive at 8? tsk tsk and all that

i think helena has become a part of the diaz family fully, but i don't think it was always easy, and i think when her son married a white woman who didn't fit the expectations of a diaz wife either, helena recognized that. i think helena saw herself in shannon so clearly.

and instead of breaking the cycle and offering shannon that support and empathy that shannon (and young helena) needed, helena enforced those expectations even harsher. helena did it, so shannon had to, too.

maybe it was out of protection--she wanted shannon to fit into the family the way helena had learned to. maybe it was common generational sentiment, i.e. it's the Right way or it's the way I did it so therefore you have to do it that way, too. maybe it was a means of reinforcing her own place in the family, as she was no longer the newbie, shannon was.

whatever it was, i don't think she was conscious of it, and especially after shannon left her son, helena refused to acknowledge she was anything like shannon at all.

until now.

(yes i've found my way back to the point, i usually do i promise--and yes my adhd meds are THRIVING rn)

both helena's husband and son have done a lot of emotional work in the recent years and i think it's likely she would take a queue from them (and if her daughters are anything like me, i'm sure they're trying to nudge her towards a therapist at every turn). helena very well may be in a place where she can acknowledge how the expectations she's lived under may have been stifling, and given her son's recent encounter with kim, she very well may be in a place to acknowledge how similar shannon was to her.

and that's where, dear anon, your point comes in.

because helena was there for shannon and eddie's entire marriage. ramon was working, eddie was in the war, abuela and pepa were in la, but helena was right down the street (idk if she was actually right down the street but you know what i mean). helena knew shannon as an 18-20yo woman, as a new mother, as a struggling mother. she was in the unique position of watching shannon go through a marriage alone and remembering exactly how that felt.

kim may look like shannon, but she has no idea how shannon felt during her marriage. eddie can say all the things he wants to say, but it's like talking to a gravestone. i think helena can say the things eddie needs to hear, even if he may not want to hear them.

....and now i really wanna write that conversation. fuck.

[nichestartrekkie0-0]

Ok, you know I need you to go into detail about the ‘psychic blindness’ and courtship rituals! And the weddings! (Only if you want to, of course! :3)

yay! Ofc I will! :)) Thank you!!!!

Good morning yall- another long one so be prepared haha :))

Psychic blindness is just like regular blindness in humans! Aenar use psychic powers to see- if someone is psychically blind, they're just plain old regular blind too. There's systems in place for individuals who have this disability, it's also a thing to be deaf (u know, as it is) but also to have both psychic blindness and loss of hearing. I made sign language for the Aenar (they can see simple gestures the same way they see expressions) and I also made a 'tap language' for individuals who are both psychically blind and deaf. Also, to the Aenar, the rest of the world save for the Vulcans are 'psychically blind' but 'visually seeing'. The idea is that others can see things they can't, but the Aenar have their own ways of seeing as well. Both are considered sight. The word in my conlang for sight is 'penak' which comes from 'pak' for sense and 'pen' for mind.

courtship rituals! As I've said, the Aenar never say anything directly. Ever. Which makes it difficult sometimes for outsiders to understand wtf is going on. (Oof RIP Hemmer's wife) There are usually 4 stages to a relationship 1- casual, 2-pre-engagement, 3-engagement, 4-marriage. Notice how it goes from casual to committed almost instantly. It's a big deal to go from 1-2. Usually, Aenar have a few casual relationships, but only 2-3 pre-engagement bonds in their life. (Oh, bonds-- oof I might need a separate post for that) Casual relationships are just that, but in order to move to a pre-engagement bond some things have to take place. Namely, approval from one's parents and explicit approval from one's partner. Precognition also plays a role here, and I have two types of precognition (oh boy, psychic stuff) One predicts danger, and the other predicts compatibility between people. Aenar like to talk about the dangerous one because it makes them sound cool- they never mention the other one. Remember how there's stages? well, if precognition throws you a curveball you can go from 0-2 (Nothing to pre-engagement bond) or even 0-3 (Nothing to engagement bond) almost instantly. Your brain basically speedruns the relationship. The goal of precognition is to approximate things, either danger or personal compatibility. When a psychic finds someone that their brain 'recognizes' and is seemingly a good partner for them (platonic or romantic) boom! Bond! This can lead to many funny/awkward/chaotic things. (Hemmer's parents I headcanon are from rival families, and had some precognition shenanigans) Ummm, as for rituals pre-engagement, there's not a lot... engagement and after has some more

Engagement-marriage. Oof. Good luck if you're not an Aenar. So to start off, to get engaged there's more loopholes and things to do. You start with the intended partner and gift each other A- a gift that represents them and your relationship and B- a bead for their esh'ra'oo. (Great uhh, I need to explain what that is info* below oof) and C- a tradition involving a scarf. All gifts must be accepted, and then there's a formal proposal announcement that takes place in front of both families.

Marriage is as much of a headache as it is here. Both families must be visited to gain both approval and material things for the wedding. (Kind of like something old/new/borrowed/blue thing we have here) The ceremony itself is long af, and ends with a ceremonial jump into the local hot springs! Marriage is called 'taking the leap'! Technically there's both public and private marriage- the public part is the ceremony, the walk back to the couple's new home, and the events after are not. (Usually consummation of marriage and a secret tradition) The tradition can be anything from a prayer to cooking a meal together. Whatever the tradition is- its jealously guarded and passed down from mother to daughter, (unless the woman isn't an Aenar haha) When the two come out the next morning wearing each other's families scarf knots as their own (Each family has a signature knot and style) boom! Marriage is complete! (A trip after marriage isn't a thing, you mention 'honeymoon' to any Aenar they're gonna look at you like you're crazy)

*Esh'ra'oo is a beaded chord (kinda like the Navi song-chord) in which an individual composes a song for the beads they are given and earn. Each bead represents a huge moment in their life, and there's second and third chords for lyrics and notes. Tattoos can or can not follow these beads, each person has a preference. Each person's song is different and when they die the chord is placed/hung in the Ash'ha el Hekekren or the temple of stories- so their family can sing their song when they pray or want to remember them (Religion is...oof I can make another post haha) (Funerals...also oof omg I guess I gotta lot)

Anywho!! Thank you!!! :)))

[chimcess]

Solstice || pjm

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin   Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Fluff, Angst (Very light), Flashback Special, Winter!AU, Holiday!AU Word Count: 11.7k Synopsis: It was a night during Yule when Y/N first saw Park Jimin.

Part of the Birdie Shoppe Series: || Birdie Shoppe Masterlist || While you can read this as a standalone, I do highly recommend reading the series first. It will make more sense and give everything the context it needs.

Chapter Warnings: Fluff, some angst, Jin and Yoongi are sweeties, Yule celebrations, in depth talks about wiccan/pagan traditions, Krampus and Yule cat mentioned, possession, adoption mentions, talks about death, annoying nicknames, these spirits are a bit sus, underaged drinking (Like a sip), We love Wendy, Jimin is cute, This is super PG, Young reader, Young Jimin, I can’t think of anything else so just let me know! A/N: I couldn’t help myself. We’re starting to get flashbacks! I thought it would be fun to dive into the Holiday season in Bangtan, so here we are. This has been roughly edited so I could have missed things. I will hopefully get around to fixing her up when I get more time. I hope you enjoy. Happy holidays!

The pine scent was everywhere, sharp and bright, as I wrangled the evergreen through the narrow door of Auntie's cottage. It had the prickly feel of a real holiday beginning—a bite to the air, a cheerfulness that elbowed its way in despite everything. Auntie's bark echoed from inside, raspy and rough like always, a gravelly sound that could've put anyone else off but was just part of the background to me by now. Jin, beside me, stood as stiff as the tree trunk, his eyes darting nervously as Auntie's voice carried through the room. I was used to Auntie's way; she had a voice that cracked like pinecones, and there was no getting around it. It was just part of the atmosphere.

“Almost there!” Yoona called from somewhere near the fireplace, her voice light and sweet, an antidote to Auntie's growl. The warmth in her tone felt like a comfort that spread throughout the room, softening the prickly edges of everything around us.

With one last push, we managed to get the tree through the door, and Yoona's cheer merged with Aldara's bossy tone, laying out her endless instructions for Yule prep. I could hear Jin’s familiar grumbling beside me—he was never good with Auntie's orders. His father had taken Yoongi out for firewood, leaving Jin's mom to slave over the stove. Everyone else pitched in how they could, but I’d given up trying to keep track of whose job was whose. Auntie, of course, was completely focused on her wassail, going on about how this year's batch would be the best ever—as it always was, in her opinion.

Once we had the tree standing in its spot—a little crooked, but it worked—it was time for my favorite part: decorating it. Yule wasn't Yule without a tree to hang everything on. This year, we'd really gone all out. I dove into the boxes of ornaments, the baskets full of shiny, silly things, and felt my heart swell at the sight of all the pinecones and garlands. I was ready.

Seokjin, Yoongi, and I—we’d been doing this since we were kids. The three of us were inseparable, and Yule had always been the highlight of our year. It was tradition, our families together, no matter what. Tonight, Wendy and her coven would join us around the bonfire, too. Wendy’s group was all women, no exceptions. If you didn’t fit in, you ended up somewhere else—it was that simple. Wendy could be a bit intense, but we all knew that the night wouldn’t be the same without her or her coven’s songs and laughter.

I grimaced at the sight of last year’s dried orange garland—the one Hoji had thankfully replaced with fresh ones. Jin's dad, Taejin, helped us make our julbock goats each year—Auntie called them symbols of rebirth, though I never quite understood the full significance. They looked like whimsical straw toys to me, but Auntie was wise, and what she said went. I didn't need to understand everything to love it.

Jin drifted off to the kitchen, helping his mom with the feast, just like he did every year. He loved cooking as much as I loved decorating the tree. Auntie and Yoona were busy at the table, smudging the place with rosemary and cedar—rosemary for the strength we’d need to get through winter, cedar for protection. The scent filled the air, mingling with the pine, and it made me feel like maybe everything would be alright, despite the uncertainty that sometimes crept in.

“Did you make anything new this year, Twitch?” Yoona asked, her smile soft as she tied another smudge stick.

“Of course I did,” I said, pulling out my latest creation. “See?”

I held up a pinecone I’d turned into a hedgehog—cranberries for the eyes, a little bit of red ribbon tied around its middle. Auntie didn’t usually like my little crafts, but she’d said this one was cute enough to keep. Yoona’s eyes lit up, and I smiled, the warmth of her approval filling me up like hot tea on a cold morning.

“Twitch,” Yoona said, her tone affectionate, “you’re the best at Yule.”

“Isn’t she?” Hoji chimed in from the stove, her hands busy kneading dough.

“The only one who actually likes getting the tree ready,” Auntie muttered, barely looking up from her smudging. “Speaking of which, Rae, you should finish up—Dee’s coming soon.”

Cordelia was the head of Wendy’s coven—I’d always thought she was Wendy’s aunt, but Auntie had told me not to ask. Apparently, it was impolite. It was one of those mysteries I was content to leave unsolved.

“Is Thelma coming this year?” Yoona asked, and I could hear the hope in her voice. Yoona always had a soft spot for Thelma.

“Doubt it,” Hoji said, sighing. “She just had a baby.”

“She found a baby,” Auntie corrected, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“What’s the difference?” Yoona wondered aloud, and I tuned out after that, focusing on my ornament. 

Thelma was from the swamps and had always seemed odd to me—her laugh was too loud, her stories too strange. But Auntie liked her, even wrote her letters every week. I couldn’t figure out why, but I supposed Auntie knew things about people that I didn’t.

Yoongi and Jin’s dad got back just before the sun dipped below the horizon, having set up the bonfire out back. It needed to last for twelve days, and they'd need more wood for it—which meant another trip tomorrow. Maybe I’d tag along if Auntie let me; I loved the crisp air of the forest in winter, the way it felt like the whole world was holding its breath.

The feast was massive, as always—meats, stews, and desserts piled high on every available surface. Everyone brought something to share. After we ate, the bonfire would be lit, and we’d sing and dance until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore. Auntie would join later, in her bird form, fluttering around us like she always did. Jin and I were the only ones who understood her when she was like that, and even then, it wasn’t easy. Her bird language was all whistles and chirps, and half the time, we had to guess what she meant, but I loved it anyway. It made her seem even more magical, if that was possible.

“Auntie?” I called, fiddling with a star I was making for the tree. The gold paint was still wet, and it smudged a little under my fingers.

“Yes, Bibbles?” she answered, not looking up from her smudging.

“What’s a Santa Claus?”

“A nicer, less real version of Krampus,” she said, her voice warm with laughter. “Why do you ask, little raven?”

I shrugged, tying a ribbon onto the star. “I just don’t understand. Don’t they believe in the Goddess?”

“They do.”

“So why don’t they celebrate her?”

Taejin spoke up from across the room, his voice steady and kind. “Some of them celebrate like we do, some of them celebrate Christmas, and some celebrate nothing at all. It’s not up to us to judge, Crow.”

“Celebrate nothing?” Jin called out from the kitchen. “How do they do that?”

Taejin chuckled, shaking his head. “They just do, son. Everyone’s got their own way.”

“Stupid tradition,” Yoongi muttered beside me, fiddling with his own ornament, a wooden fox that had seen better days.

“Min Yoongi!” Yoona scolded, her hands on her hips. “You better make up for that attitude tonight!”

“Yes, mom. Sorry, mom.”

“Honestly,” she said, shaking her head. “Why can't you be more like Twitch? She loves Yule.”

I flushed, using a bit of magic to lift the star to the top of the tree. I’d always had a lot of nicknames—“Twitch,” “Crow,” “Bibbles.” Yoongi, though, always used my real name. It made me feel… something. Something I didn’t think too much about, partly because I was too embarrassed to even tell Auntie.

Yoongi was my friend. Wendy liked Yoongi. Not me.

Why would I like him?

Yoongi joined me on the floor, sensing my unease. He always struggled with social gatherings, which was why he avoided big parties. But now, he was here, sitting beside me, holding my hand as we admired the tree. The scent of pine filled the room, and for a moment, everything felt just right. This was my favorite time of the year—being surrounded by the people I cared about most.

“Did you make anything this year?” I asked, my voice soft.

“Yeah, did you?” he replied, his eyes twinkling.

“I always do,” I said with a smile. “What did you make?”

Traditions varied among witches, and we each had our own special contributions. Auntie always crafted altar items for everyone, each piece so perfectly tailored it felt like magic. Taejin and Hoji made candles and sage bundles for the adults, while the kids got sweets. Wendy’s coven brought salts, purified water, and crystals from faraway places. Jin, of course, didn’t contribute much, except for the things he made just for Yoongi and me. Yoongi, on the other hand, loved cooking—he made jams and preserves with his grandmother, Gran, who preferred to spend the holidays in quiet solitude. And me? I made jewelry.

Auntie adored my necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. This year, I had even made anklets for Wendy’s coven, hoping they’d appreciate the gesture. Each piece was crafted with care, infused with the spirit of Yule. I didn’t want to offend anyone—especially not Krampus.

“Apple, orange, and cranberry preserves,” Yoongi said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Three kinds this year?” I looked at him, surprised. Yoongi usually stuck to apple—his favorite.

“I wanted to try something new,” he explained, shrugging. “I liked them all.”

“And I tried making anklets this time,” I added, feeling a little shy.

“Wendy’s family is weird,” Yoongi said, his lips quirking up in a small smile.

“Yeah, but so are we,” I replied, laughing softly.

The aroma of food drifted in from the kitchen—Yoona had just pulled the turkey from the oven, and Yoongi’s eyes lit up at the sight of the ham. Auntie would sip wassail all night and indulge in sweets; she never ate meat, unlike Griselda. Not that it ever stopped me from enjoying a large slice of turkey breast. I caught Jin’s eye across the room, and we exchanged a knowing look—we were both thinking the same thing: the feast was the best part of Yule.

Shiloh’s chatter with the birds outside was a familiar background hum, her voice mingling with the wind as it swept through the trees. She’d stay outside tonight, where she felt most at home, perched high up among the branches, her laughter echoing with the other creatures of the forest. I found her amusing—always had—especially since she only interacted with us when it was absolutely necessary. She was an enigma, comfortable in the wild, speaking the language of the birds, always just out of reach.

The evening dragged on, the bonfire crackling in the distance, its warmth drifting towards us in waves. Auntie’s laughter filled the air, a bright sound that seemed to draw everyone in, mingling with the voices of the other witches as they joined the festivities. Auntie was always the heart of it all—her laughter, her determination, her resilience. She made the most of Yule, braving the cold and the crowd, her strength unwavering. Watching her, I felt a swell of pride, a sense of awe at how much she gave to all of us, her love and her magic woven into every moment.

I looked around the room, feeling a warm wave of contentment roll over me. The tree stood proudly in the corner, its branches gleaming with the ornaments I’d spent hours carefully hanging. The twinkling lights reflected off the glass baubles, casting soft glimmers across the walls. Yoongi’s hand rested in mine, a grounding presence amid the chaos. Despite the strangeness of our traditions, the sense of unity in our gathering was palpable—everyone playing their part, our lives intertwined in ways that went beyond mere family or friendship.

“I see Cordelia and the coven!” Taejin’s voice cut through the hum of anticipation, his face bright with excitement as he pointed out the window.

The house erupted into action. Everyone scrambled to set the table, the room buzzing with the frantic energy of last-minute preparations. Auntie collected presents with her usual flair, stacking them with a flourish that made it look easy. Hoji and Yoona wrestled the Yule log into the fireplace, their laughter ringing out as they struggled to get it just right. Yoongi fussed over the last-minute details of the food, checking the ham and adjusting the plates of bread and cheese, while Jin and his father cleaned up as if their lives depended on it.

I murmured a quick prayer to Lilith for a blessing and a brief winter, knowing Auntie trusted me to handle this with precision. It was a small thing, but it mattered. As I finished the prayer, a loud knock echoed from the door, sending a ripple of excitement through the room.

The party was officially underway. I couldn’t help but notice Thelma’s absence—a small silver lining, to be honest. Her son was a handful, always running around and causing trouble, and I’d been dreading having to keep an eye on him. She’d decided on a quiet night at home, which secretly relieved me. I’d promised Auntie I’d bring her gifts and food tomorrow, though I wouldn’t be joining Yoongi—a small price to pay for a little peace tonight.

Plates of food clinked, glasses filled with wassail, and laughter echoed through the cottage. Wendy’s coven arrived with a smorgasbord of dishes—pies, roasted vegetables, cakes. They even brought their version of a Yule log—more cake than firewood, really. Wendy explained that their tradition involved sticking candles into a log and burning them, due to fire hazards. It was unconventional, but the cake was a hit nonetheless. The sweet scent of cinnamon and cloves filled the room, and I could see the other witches sneaking bites whenever they thought no one was watching.

“What time’s the bonfire?” a blonde girl asked, her hair bouncing with every word.

“After dinner and the gift exchange,” I replied, my eyes scanning the room for Auntie.

“Oh!” Her eyes brightened. “I’ve got something for you and Yoongi!”

“And Jin?” I raised an eyebrow, knowing how these things usually went.

She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not fond of him.”

Not surprising. Jin’s complaints about Wendy’s “sour attitude” were well-known. I suspected there was more to it—some sort of love triangle, perhaps. Wendy seemed to like Yoongi, who didn’t reciprocate, and Jin had a soft spot for Wendy that he tried (and failed) to hide. I kept my theories to myself; Auntie had warned me against meddling, and I had to agree—getting involved would only make things awkward.

“I forgot,” I said, taking a hefty sip of wassail, the warm spice comforting as it went down.

“Do you think Yoongi will like it?” Wendy asked, her voice a little unsure, her eyes darting over to where Yoongi was fussing over the food.

“What’s the gift?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Wendy put down her fork, her expression suddenly serious. She’d mentioned recently that she was wearing a bra now, while I still wore kids' clothes. It made me feel small. Wendy was beautiful and popular—except with Jin—and sometimes it felt like I was just her shadow. Auntie always said that inner beauty was what mattered, but I knew better. People noticed looks, and Wendy had them. Yoongi’s indifference to her seemed foolish.

“It’s a new pot I bought. He likes cooking, right?”

“He’s a kitchen witch,” I said, nodding. “He’ll appreciate it—maybe not in the way you’re hoping, but he’ll appreciate it.”

That seemed to calm her, her shoulders relaxing slightly. Yoongi might have preferred something more personal, but he’d find practical use for the pot, especially during Yule. I glanced over at Jin—his scowl was hard to miss, his eyes fixed on Wendy. I rolled my eyes, deciding to ignore it for now.

I looked out the window. The sun had barely set, and it was time to get things started. I set down my plate and moved to gather the gifts. Auntie, ever perceptive, saw me and began rallying everyone for the exchange. Despite the cramped space, the festive spirit filled every corner of the room. We all hoped for a bright spring, and with the warmth surrounding us, I felt reassured.

The gift exchange was always my favorite part—everyone’s personalities shone through in the presents they gave. Yoongi gifted me apple butter—my favorite, not marmalade. Jin, true to form, gave me a sweater and then took it back, insisting we swap so he could keep the one he actually liked. I gave necklaces to my two best friends—pressed flowers for Jin, healing crystals for Yoongi. Wendy was thrilled with the anklet I’d made her, immediately tying it around her ankle and showing it off to her coven sisters.

Wendy’s gift for Yoongi went about as expected. He thanked her but wasn’t exactly over the moon. She’d given me a painting of a magindara—a type of mermaid, with flowing hair and shimmering scales. It was beautiful, vibrant, and easily my favorite gift of the night, even though the other gifts—bath products, altar supplies—were nice too. It felt like she’d seen something in me, something magical and different, and I loved it. 

In no time, we were outside, preparing for the bonfire. The night was cold, but the fire roared, sending sparks flying into the sky.

Auntie had to excuse herself to shift, her form melting seamlessly into that of a large, white bird before she soared over to perch on Hoji’s shoulder. The transformation was mesmerizing, a reminder of her deep connection to both the human and spirit worlds. Auntie was as indispensable to me as Yoongi—her strength, her laughter, her love. She was the anchor that kept us all together.

We huddled by the bonfire, watching the flames lick upwards, wild and unruly. Jin stood close to his mom, just as he always did, his eyes following the dance of the flames with a distant look. Wendy, standing beside him, seemed intent on provoking him, her voice sharp as she teased him about something I couldn’t quite hear. Jin’s responses were just as biting, his irritation clear, though there was a playful edge to his words. They bickered like this every year, and I found comfort in the predictability of it.

A gentle tap on my knee made me turn, and I looked over at Yoongi. He sat beside me, his eyes soft with concern, his dark hair falling across his forehead in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire.

I nodded, though I knew why he was worried. My gifts were unique—they connected me to the forest and the spirit realm in ways that even Auntie couldn’t fully understand. I could talk to animals, I could scry, but my most significant gift was mediumship. Auntie had always said it was rare, that only one other witch she knew of had possessed it, and even then, their abilities had been far weaker than mine. I was the only one who could communicate with spirits before my full ascension. But it wasn’t without its challenges. Sometimes I lost control, blacking out and waking up deep in the forest, disoriented, with no memory of how I’d gotten there. That’s why Yoongi was worried—especially during the full moon, when the veil between worlds was thinner, and the spirits more restless.

“You sure?” he pressed, his eyes searching mine, his fingers tightening around my hand.

“I… don’t know,” I admitted, my gaze dropping to the flickering flames. The fire seemed to dance in time with my heartbeat, its movements erratic and wild. “It’s hard to say. I think I’m fine.”

“Let me know if you start feeling off,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze, his warmth a comfort against the cold.

The conversation ended there as Taejin stood up, raising his mug high. It was time for his annual speech, and the crowd fell silent in anticipation. Taejin spoke with a deep, resonant voice, his words carrying over the crackling of the fire. He talked of tradition, of family, of the strength we found in one another. I cheered where expected, my voice joining in with the others, but my eyes remained fixed on the bonfire. The flames—they unsettled me. There was something about them, something that made my hands tremble, like they were a reminder of something I couldn’t quite place, something just out of reach.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, carried on the wind, just for me.

I shook my head, closing my eyes for a moment, pleading silently for the spirits to leave me be. I just wanted to enjoy the fire, to enjoy this moment with my friends and family, without the weight of the spirit realm pressing down on me.

“Can this wait?” I thought back, my thoughts reaching out, hoping they’d understand.

The silence that followed felt like an answer, and I sighed in relief. I turned to Yoongi, giving him a small smile, hoping to reassure him. He laughed, though it was a nervous sound, and he didn’t let go of my hand. We sang songs, our voices blending with those around us, the warmth of the fire wrapping around us like a blanket.

“Hark!” we all cried. “Hear the children sing!”

Yoongi spun me around, his eyes twinkling, and I found myself in Jin’s arms. He laughed, lifting me off my feet for a moment before setting me back down. We jumped and sang with the others, our voices rising to the night sky, our laughter mingling with the music.

“He is here this Yuletide time! A-dancing in the home-fire flames!”

I looked up, smiling as Auntie flew in joyous circles above us, her wings catching the light of the fire, her clear voice soaring over the rest. We danced for what felt like hours, the laughter and singing echoing through the forest, the warmth of the fire wrapping around us. I imagined Patteo, my closest bird friend, watching from his perch high in the trees, waiting for the day we could soar through the night together, just like Auntie.

“Aye, Snatcher!” Cordelia’s voice rang out, her laughter bubbling over as she waved a large mug in the air, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

That nickname brought back memories of my mischievous past—stealing shiny stones from her garden, convinced they were enchanted. I’d earned myself a week-long punishment for that one, and she still hadn’t let me live it down. I grinned, the memory as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

“Yes, Miss?” I called back, my smile widening as I made my way over to her.

“Could you make more wassail? We’re out,” she said, her tone half-serious, half-amused, her eyes twinkling.

Of course. That was why Yoongi disliked Yule—there was never enough wassail, and Cordelia and her coven always seemed to drink it all before anyone else had their fill. Beside her, Yoona rolled her eyes, clearly sharing in the frustration. No one really liked that part of the evening. Hoji offered to help, but Auntie’s wassail recipe was a closely guarded secret, and I was the only one who knew how to make it just right.

I headed to the kitchen, gathering apples and oranges, the scent of the fruit filling the air as I set to work. Auntie had already made a big batch of cider earlier, but I needed more apples to get the flavor just right. Wassail was like mulled cider, but Auntie’s version was special—it was richer, spicier, the kind of drink that warmed you from the inside out, that made you feel safe, even on the coldest nights.

As I worked, peeling the apples and slicing the oranges, a shiver ran up my spine. I paused, my knife hovering over the cutting board, my breath hitching. I was always attuned to spirits, always aware of their presence, and right now, I could feel them. They were close, closer than they’d been all night. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to prepare for whatever awaited me.

“I’m sorry…” a gentle voice whispered, barely audible, as if carried on a distant breeze.

-I jolted upright, my vision swimming with colors that blurred and twisted together, making it impossible to make sense of where I was. The world around me seemed to disappear, replaced by a high-pitched ringing that filled my ears, a sound so loud it felt like it was going to split my head open. I tried to move, to ground myself, to push against the strange force pulling at my senses, but my limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, as if they weren’t my own. The ground beneath me was cold and unyielding, and I struggled to understand what was happening, my thoughts slipping away as quickly as they came.

The world seemed shrouded in haze, colors merging, shadows shifting. Shadowy figures appeared and then disappeared, slipping away before I could grasp them. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, trying to focus, but it was like I was underwater—everything distorted, everything far away. The acrid stench of smoke filled my nose, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. It clung to my senses, made it difficult to breathe, difficult to think. Pain throbbed behind my eyes, growing more intense by the second, a steady, relentless pounding that seemed to reverberate through my entire body. I cried out, my voice cracking, clutching my head as if I could push the pain away, curling in on myself as the world spun out of control.

“What’s going on?” I barely heard the voice, distant and muffled, as if coming from somewhere far beyond my reach. “What is it?”

“A girl, obviously,” came another voice, equally distorted, the tone skeptical, almost disbelieving. It sounded closer, but my mind couldn’t piece it together, couldn’t make sense of what they were saying.

The ringing slowly, painfully began to fade, replaced by the muffled sounds of the world around me—voices, footsteps, the crackling of something nearby. My head still pounded, the pain a fierce, constant presence, my hands pressing against my temples as if I could physically push it away. I could feel hands on me—small, insistent hands trying to help, tugging at my shoulders, my arms. My body ached, every nerve screaming for relief, but I didn’t have the strength to push them away, to do anything but whimper.

“Call mama,” urged the first voice, a girl’s voice, filled with worry, her words barely cutting through the haze.

“No way,” the second voice shot back, defiant and sharp. “She’d tell Chief Ahn, and he’s a real bastard to outsiders.”

“Then who do we call? She needs help,” the girl insisted, her voice wavering with fear, her desperation almost palpable.

I whimpered, the sound raw and broken, the pain swelling again, fear gnawing at me. Where was I? How had I ended up here? The confusion made everything worse, the fear of being lost beyond Bangtan’s boundaries, far away from Auntie. My heart pounded, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. I needed Auntie. I needed to find her, to feel her warmth and hear her reassuring voice. The uncertainty, the disorientation, the feeling of being untethered and lost—it gnawed at me, made me want to cry.

“Oh! We can get my big brother!” the girl said suddenly, her voice brightening with hope, as if she’d found the perfect solution.

“Namjoon would tell Chief Ahn, Nayeon,” the boy replied, his tone exasperated, as if they’d already had this argument a thousand times.

“Then what about your brother, oppa?” Nayeon’s voice was almost pleading now, her fear breaking through.

The boy sucked in a breath, and for a moment there was silence, heavy and uncertain. Then, he made a decision. “Hyung!” he called out, his voice filled with determination, his feet moving quickly, the ground crunching beneath him.

I heard the patter of small feet running away, the sound growing fainter and fainter with each passing second, until all that was left was the girl beside me, her breathing quick and shallow, her tiny hands still clinging to my arm. My eyes fluttered shut, my eyelids heavy and impossible to keep open, and I felt myself slipping, falling into a dark, uncertain place that seemed to stretch on forever.

“Don’t worry, miss,” Nayeon’s voice whispered, her tiny hand wrapping around my pinky finger, a lifeline in the dark. “Oppa’s getting help.”

I jolted awake, gasping as the cold of the forest floor gripped me like a vice, the chill seeping through my clothes and settling deep into my bones. The world around me was a chaotic blur of shadows and muffled sounds, the sharp, penetrating ring in my ears drowning out everything else. My head throbbed relentlessly, a deep, pounding ache that made it hard to think, to focus. I tried to push myself up, my fingers digging into the cold, damp earth, but my arms gave out beneath me, and I collapsed again, the rough ground scraping against my cheek. Fear and despair surged through me, tears spilling down my cheeks as I began to sob, my body trembling from both the cold and the overwhelming sense of helplessness.

I thought of Auntie—her warm, dimpled smile, the bright orange turtleneck she always wore to add a touch of festivity to her otherwise blue wardrobe. We’d even made matching tops this year, stitching on little embroidered stars along the sleeves. The thought of my once-pristine, pumpkin-colored shirt now smeared with dirt and grime made me cry harder. I imagined Auntie’s face if she saw me now, and the thought only made the tears come faster, my sobs echoing into the silent forest.

Something wet nudged my hand, the sensation cutting through my despair. I flinched, startled, my heart lurching as I tried to focus, my vision still blurry from tears and disorientation. Through the haze, I saw a massive silver wolf sitting before me, its fur shimmering faintly in the moonlight. Its eyes were dark and penetrating, too intelligent to belong to a mere animal. This was no ordinary wolf—it was unnaturally large, exuding an aura that spoke of something more, something powerful. I stared at it, my heart pounding, waiting for it to make a move, my breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. When it only looked at me with an unsettling calm, its eyes locked on mine, I shut my eyes again, my tears flowing freely as I wept.

I had to be in Foxglove Village’s territory. Auntie always talked about the wolves and their pack politics, about their power and the shifting alliances within the forest. But I had never paid much attention, always tuning out whenever the conversation turned to politics or territory disputes. The wolves had taken over after the foxes left, and now they were the strongest pack in the region. Auntie had said something about shifting and hierarchy, about alphas and betas, but it had all seemed so far removed from my life that I never bothered to learn more.

Another wet poke, this time with more urgency, as if the wolf was trying to get my attention. I opened my eyes again, the tears blurring my vision, and saw the wolf had laid its nose gently on my hand, its dark eyes watching me intently. I could feel its warmth against my cold skin, and I took in its features—the long, unruly fur, the sheer size of it, the way its ears twitched slightly at every sound in the forest. It was a wolf, unmistakably, but there was something more to it, something almost human in the way it looked at me. I instinctively flinched away, crying out weakly, my voice breaking into pitiful squawks that mingled with the wind. A gust of cold air followed, making me shiver uncontrollably, my teeth chattering.

The wolf pressed its body against mine, its fur warm and soft, offering shelter from the wind. I hesitated, then reached out, tentatively patting its head, my fingers brushing through the thick fur. The wolf didn’t move away; instead, it nestled closer, its warmth enveloping me, radiating a surprising comfort that made the fear ebb, if only slightly.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my voice trembling, barely more than a whisper. My throat felt raw, my words shaky, but the wolf seemed to understand. It nudged its nose against my head, a gentle gesture that made something in my chest loosen, the tight knot of fear unraveling just a bit.

“My name’s—” I hesitated, my voice catching. “I’m Bridd.”

It felt strange to use the name, like an ill-fitting coat that didn’t quite belong to me yet. Auntie Aldara was the true Birdie, the one with the power and the knowledge, and I was still just an apprentice, waiting for my turn, for the day I would grow into the name. The animals in the forest knew me by name, but the shift hadn’t happened yet. I wasn’t truly Bridd, not the way Auntie was. Still, I had to be careful; nothing in this forest stayed secret for long.

The wolf nodded, a small movement that made my breath catch. It understood me, truly understood me in a way that went beyond mere animal instinct.

“Can you turn into a person?” I asked, my voice hopeful, though I wasn’t sure what I expected.

The wolf shook its head, a slow, deliberate movement.“Please?” I pleaded, my voice cracking. “I really want to go home.”

The wolf simply settled back down, its gaze unwavering, ignoring my plea. Frustration bubbled up inside me, hot and sharp, mixing with the lingering fear. It was one thing to be rescued, but another entirely to be left here, in the middle of the forest, with no way to get home. Wolves and their ilk were notoriously uncommunicative, and this one seemed no different.

“Fine!” I snapped, pushing myself up despite the pain that lanced through my body. My muscles protested, my head spinning, but I was determined. “I’ll find my own way back!”

The wolf rose to its feet, watching me with those dark, intelligent eyes, its steps perfectly matching mine as I stumbled forward. My irritation grew with each step, my pace quickening in an attempt to outpace it, to prove that I could do this on my own. But the wolf kept up effortlessly, its presence a constant reminder of my own weakness. It nudged its nose against my shoulder, a gentle push that almost made me lose my balance. I shrugged it off, determined to stay mad, to cling to the anger that kept the fear at bay.

Suddenly, the wolf stopped, its ears perking up, its body tensing. I looked around, my eyes scanning the dark forest, but there was nothing—no movement, no sound, just the rustling of leaves in the cold breeze. A shiver ran down my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I called out for the wolf, my voice trembling, a note of fear creeping back in.

“Wolf! Wolf!”

The wind howled in response, a low, mournful sound that seemed to echo through the trees. My eyes caught sight of something on the ground—a ring of mushrooms, small and pale, forming a perfect circle. My heart sank as I recognized it—a fairy circle. I took a cautious step back, my eyes wide, my breath catching in my throat.

“Wolf,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, “We need to be careful. We’re close to fae territory.”

“Yeah, I know,” a voice replied, calm and clear.

I spun around, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste, my heart leaping into my throat. A boy about my age stood there, his eyes glowing with a strange, predatory gleam. He was tall and impeccably groomed, his silver hair catching the moonlight, his posture relaxed, almost casual. As I looked at him, recognition dawned, and a wave of relief washed over me, my heart slowing its frantic pace.

“Wolf!” I exclaimed, rushing toward him, tears of relief streaming down my face, my vision blurring once more.

The boy did not embrace me in return. Instead, he placed his hands on my shoulders, holding me at arm’s length, his expression unreadable.

“That’s not my name,” he grunted, his voice low, pushing me away gently but firmly.

“Then what is it?” I asked, confusion mingling with my relief, my brow furrowing.

“Park Jimin,” he said simply, his gaze steady, the predatory gleam in his eyes softening.

I wracked my brain, trying to place the name. Auntie had spoken of the pack, had mentioned their names and ranks, but I’d tuned out most of the details, too caught up in my own world. Standing here now, face-to-face with one of them, I felt a pang of ignorance, a sense of regret for not paying closer attention. I resolved to learn more once I was safely home.

“Is that important?” I asked, my voice hesitant, hoping he wouldn’t be offended by my lack of knowledge.

“Not really,” he smirked, the corner of his lips quirking up. “So, what are you doing out here?”

“Oh!” I blinked, the events of the night rushing back to me in a disjointed blur. The smell of wassail, the chill of the forest, the voices of the children. I had been possessed, taken over by something beyond my control, but the details were blurry, fragmented. The memory of the children’s voices came back to me, and a deep fear gripped my heart, a sense of dread that made my skin prickle. Something terrible was coming, I could feel it, but I couldn’t grasp what it was. My vision was clouded by red eyes and a trembling lip.

“No,” Jimin said, his voice urgent as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “Please don’t cry again.”

“I want to go home,” I wailed, the words escaping before I could stop them, my voice breaking, my body trembling with the force of my fear. I wanted Auntie, wanted her warmth, her reassurance. I wanted to be anywhere but here, in this strange, dark forest with the memory of those red eyes haunting me.

Jimin remained silent, his gaze steady as he watched me cry. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to comfort me, and somehow, that made it easier. The memory of the red eyes loomed over me, a shadow that wouldn’t leave, and all I wanted was to be with Auntie again. I needed her more than ever.

“You’re the Bridd, right?” Jimin asked suddenly, his voice breaking through the fog of my thoughts.

I looked at him, puzzled, my tears slowing. His question was so blunt, so unexpected, that it felt like a slap. I shook my head, the movement slow, confused.

“No.”

“But you said you were,” he said, his brow furrowing, his confusion evident.

“Well, that’s my name—almost, anyway.” I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, my fingers still trembling.

“What?” he asked, his confusion deepening, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I laughed, the sound shaky, almost hysterical, finding the situation absurdly humorous. I knew we weren’t supposed to talk about true names or their significance, but his confusion was oddly endearing, a reminder that not everything had to be so serious. I wiped my tears again, the laughter fading into a small, tired smile.

“It’s complicated,” I said, my voice softening. “Let’s just say I’m next in line.”

Jimin nodded, though he still seemed puzzled, his brow furrowed in thought. My fear began to wane, replaced by determination that settled like a steady flame within me. I knew these woods better than anyone. I had grown up here, exploring every nook and cranny, climbing trees until Auntie called me back, and following the paths that wound through the heart of the forest. If I could figure out where we were, I was confident I could get us home.

As we walked, I sniffed the air, trying to catch a scent that might hint at our location. The forest was unnervingly quiet—the usual rustle of creatures in the underbrush and the songs of birds were absent, as though the entire forest was holding its breath. I knew we were far from the swamps, the earthy scent of wet soil and stagnant water noticeably missing. Nor did I hear the distant crashing of waves against the shore. My best guess was that we were on the west side of the forest, near Foxglove Village. The path from here would be long, full of twists and turns, but not impossible to navigate.

“We’re west, if you were wondering,” Jimin said suddenly, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I looked at him, surprised. “How can you tell?”

Jimin shrugged, his gaze sweeping across the shadowy woods. “The wind smells different here—drier. Plus, the moss on the trees grows thicker on the north side. My father made me memorize all these things when I was younger. I guess some of it stuck.”

That was useful information. If we were west, then we were closest to Morla’s cave, somewhere near the Pixie Coves. The Pixies were notoriously tricky, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with their games tonight, not with Jimin here. Bringing a wolf into pixie territory felt like inviting trouble, and I wasn’t about to take that risk.

I mulled over our options, thinking through every possible route. East was out of the question—too many fae and fairies, their territories a labyrinth of traps and mischief. South would take us too far, away from any familiar landmarks. North seemed like the only viable route, though it meant battling through thick underbrush and facing whatever dangers lurked in the darkness. Jimin’s presence might complicate things, but I couldn’t let him down.

“You’re thinking very hard about this,” Jimin observed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” I admitted, glancing up at him. “I know these woods well, and I don’t want either of us getting hurt.”

“We could go further west and around,” he suggested, his eyes following the line of trees that stretched into the distance.

“Ha!” I let out a dry laugh. “The pixies wouldn’t let you leave if you stepped foot in their territory. They’d have a field day with a wolf.”

Jimin hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “And east?”

I shook my head, explaining the dangers, the fae courts that lay in that direction, their penchant for trickery. Though Jimin didn’t seem entirely convinced, he followed without further argument. I didn’t need to prove myself to him, but I could tell he trusted me, and that trust made my heart swell. He seemed important, more than just another wolf in the pack. There was something about him, something that made me feel protective of him. As we moved forward, I sent a silent prayer for his safety and well-being, hoping Lilith would watch over us both.

As we pressed on, the forest seemed to grow thicker, the branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, the underbrush dense and tangled. Thorns and brambles tore at our clothes, scratching at our skin, leaving thin red lines in their wake. I winced with each step, muttering curses under my breath, my fingers brushing against the fresh scratches that stung in the cold air. The forest seemed determined to test us, to make each step harder than the last.

Magic was the only thing that could ease the pain, and so I began to hum softly, the melody familiar and comforting. A small, lively flame appeared, dancing on my palm, its warmth immediate, spreading through my fingertips, up my arm, and into my chest. It lifted my spirits, a bright contrast to the darkness that surrounded us, a reminder of the power I carried within me.

“Whoa,” Jimin whispered, his eyes widening as he watched the flame flicker and dance, his expression one of awe.

I grinned, holding my palm up, letting the light illuminate our surroundings. Magic was said to reflect the nature of its user, and mine had always been lively, playful, like a child eager to show off. Auntie’s magic was different—more controlled, more deliberate, each spell woven with care and precision. My flame was wild, untamed, flickering in and out of existence as if it had a mind of its own.

The light revealed a small clearing up ahead, and I led Jimin through it, the flame lighting our way. We emerged on the other side, where the forest seemed to come alive again, the rustling of leaves, the distant hoot of an owl, the wind whispering through the trees. I chuckled to myself, imagining Jimin’s presence scaring off every animal in the area, his scent too foreign, too dangerous for them.

“Jimin,” I said as we trudged on, the ground uneven beneath our feet, “do you ever feel lonely in the forest?”

He shook his head, his gaze distant. “No. Why?”

“I just thought…” I glanced ahead, the trees growing thicker, their branches intertwining. “It must be sad to have the forest run away from you.”

Jimin was silent for a while, his steps slowing as he seemed to mull over my words. The thickets were dense, unforgiving, the branches catching on our clothes, the underbrush making each step a struggle. But we kept pushing forward, our breaths misting in the cold air. I admired his determination, the way he moved with purpose, even when the path was unclear. He was brave, braver than I’d given him credit for. I sent another silent prayer to Lilith, asking her to watch over him, to protect him.

“Bridd,” Jimin called, his voice breaking the silence.

I turned to look at him, my smile soft. “Jimin. What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly, then asked, “What kind of bird are you?”

I laughed, the sound echoing through the trees, light and carefree. It was such a simple question, but the way he asked it, the way he looked at me, made it endearing. 

“I’m not really sure,” I admitted, my laughter fading into a smile. “Maybe a raven or a sparrow. Something small, but quick.”

Jimin smiled, a small curve of his lips, his eyes softening. “Then we have a lot in common.”

A flicker of warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading through me, and for the first time that night, I felt a little less cold, a little less alone.

As the night deepened, the forest seemed to close in around us, the darkness thick and impenetrable, the only light coming from the moon above, its pale glow filtering through the branches. We trudged through the underbrush, our steps muffled by the fallen leaves, the silence of the forest broken only by the occasional snap of a twig beneath our feet. The forest was both a haven and a maze, offering challenges and comfort in equal measure. It tested us, pushed us to our limits, but it also sheltered us, wrapped us in its embrace. The journey was far from over, but with Jimin by my side, I felt a glimmer of hope, a sense that maybe, just maybe, we’d make it through this night.

I closed my hand, snuffing out the flame that had danced across my fingertips, the warmth fading as the light disappeared. My fingers ached, the strain of holding the flame for so long finally catching up to me. The flame had been a small joy, flickering on my skin like it was performing just for me, but now it was time to let it rest. “We don’t shift until the old Birdie passes on,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, though the thought of the shift, of what it meant, made my chest tighten.

“Interesting,” Jimin said, nodding thoughtfully. “Wolves always shift, but our wolves don’t really reveal themselves until the ceremony.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. The idea of my bird being a separate part of me—connected yet distinct—was still something I was figuring out. I assumed Jimin was talking about his own transformation—what kind of wolf he’d become. Looking at him now, it was hard to believe he wasn’t destined for something important. He had that quiet, confident air about him, like someone who was born to lead, even if he didn’t see it himself. Anyone who thought otherwise was clearly not paying attention.

“Do you have any idea what kind of wolf you’ll be?” I asked, genuinely curious, my eyes meeting his.

Auntie had always spoken highly of the wolves and their families. I knew the Jung family and the East Kims—they supplied goods for the pack and were always courteous, always respectful. Auntie seemed to hold them in high regard, and I trusted her judgment. Besides Jimin, this was my first real interaction with a wolf. He was a majestic silver creature, even in human form, and I could only imagine the weight of his pack’s expectations.

“Probably a beta,” Jimin said, his voice laced with uncertainty, his gaze dropping to the ground. “My family’s never had an alpha or a male omega. I don’t think that’s going to change with me.

I bit my lip, sensing that he was probably right—at least, that’s what everyone else likely believed. But there was something about Jimin, something that made me think he was more than just a beta. He had this quiet strength, this resilience that seemed to radiate from him, something vital and powerful that I couldn’t quite put into words. I had a feeling he was destined for greatness, even if he didn’t see it yet. Feeling protective of my new friend, I sent a silent prayer to Lilith, asking her to watch over him, to show the world his true courage, to let him shine in the way I knew he could.

Somehow. I felt very strange, but I was positive I knew more about this boy than he did.

Maybe frostbite was eating my brain.

“Looks like we’re getting close,” I said, my eyes catching the familiar symbols etched into the bark of the tall pines. The sigils were simple but distinct—swirls and lines that marked the boundary of Seokjin’s territory, symbols that had been carved by generations of witches to protect and guide. Relief washed over me, knowing that we were finally nearing the safety of familiar ground.

The trees here grew closer together, their branches intertwining overhead, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The underbrush was thick, and the scent of pine hung heavy in the air. Despite the chill of the night, there was something comforting about the familiar path, the way the symbols seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, guiding us home. I could almost hear the distant sound of laughter and singing, the echoes of the Yule celebration drifting through the trees.

“We’re in Seokjin’s territory now,” I added, glancing at Jimin, who was walking beside me. The walk from here would take no more than fifteen minutes, maybe less if we hurried. I stole a glance at him, noting the way his eyes scanned the trees, his shoulders tense as if expecting danger to jump out from the shadows. He was already watching me, his gaze sharp and attentive. I offered him a gentle smile, hoping to ease some of his worry.

“Bridd,” he said, my name escaping his lips in a hesitant whisper.

I stopped, turning to face him fully, the soft crunch of leaves underfoot breaking the silence. “What is it?” I asked, my brow furrowing in concern.

Jimin looked down, his hands clenching at his sides. He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. Finally, he let out a shaky breath, his eyes meeting mine. “I don’t think I can go any further,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

I tilted my head, puzzled. “Why not?” I asked, my heart sinking at the uncertainty in his voice. We were so close, and I didn’t understand why he would want to stop now.

“Chief Ahn said—” Jimin began, his voice trailing off. He stumbled over his words, his gaze shifting to the ground, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. He started again, explaining the rules that his Chief had imposed on them, rules that were meant to keep the wolves away from witches, to maintain a distance between their kind and mine. The way he spoke, the sincerity in his voice, made it clear that he genuinely believed he wasn’t allowed to approach witches, that he was crossing some invisible line by being here with me.

Frustration bubbled up inside me, hot and sharp. Chief Ahn’s control issues were starting to get on my nerves. The wolves had their own ways, their own customs, and I respected that, but this—this was different. This was about control, about keeping people apart, about drawing lines where none needed to be drawn.

“Chief Ahn doesn’t rule these woods,” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. I planted my hands on my hips, my gaze unwavering as I stared at Jimin. “These woods belong to the witches, to the spirits, and to anyone who respects them. Now come on, let’s make sure Auntie hasn’t had a heart attack worrying about me.”

Jimin blinked, taken aback by my sudden outburst. For a moment, he looked like he was about to argue, but then something shifted in his expression. A flicker of amusement crossed his eyes, and the corners of his lips twitched upwards in a faint smile. He let out a sigh, nodding slowly. “Alright,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of resignation. “Lead the way.”

He made no further objections, falling into step beside me once more. I knew Auntie would give me an earful later, that she’d scold me for bringing a wolf into our territory, for breaking the unspoken rules that kept the peace. But that was a trade-off I was willing to make. I liked Jimin—his quiet strength, his kindness, the way he looked at the world with a mix of curiosity and caution. I liked his company, and I wanted us to finish this journey together. I wanted him to see our Yule log, to watch the firelight dance in his eyes, to hear the songs and feel the warmth of the celebration. I wanted him to dance around the fire with me, to share in the joy that Yule brought, even if just for a little while.

The path grew narrower, the underbrush thicker, but I pushed on, my steps confident, my heart set on getting us home. The trees seemed to open up before us, the air growing warmer, the scent of smoke and pine filling my senses. I could see the faint glow of firelight in the distance, the flicker of flames through the gaps in the trees, and the sound of laughter reached my ears, growing louder with each step. We were almost there—almost home.

We reached the clearing sooner than I had expected, the familiar sight of Auntie’s house coming into view. The party was still in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the crisp winter air, echoing across the field. The bonfire blazed at the center of the clearing, flames dancing high into the sky, sparks bursting and floating upwards like tiny stars. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill of the night, and I could hear the distant sound of music, the strum of a lute, and the rhythmic tapping of feet.

I scanned the clearing, but there was no sign of Yoongi, Seokjin, or Wendy. Instead, I spotted three familiar figures frolicking in the field behind the house, their movements carefree and light. A pang of surprise rippled through me—no one had noticed my absence, no one had paused to wonder where I’d gone. The moon hung high overhead, glowing silver against the deep indigo of the sky. Hours had passed since I’d wandered off, and yet the festivities carried on, uninterrupted, as if nothing had happened.

“Only Aldara,” the wind whispered, the words barely audible above the rustling leaves.

Either Auntie had covered for me, or the spirits had somehow altered everyone’s memories. I hoped Auntie hadn’t worried too much, that Lilith had reassured her of my safety. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in my chest. Regardless of what had happened, I needed to get back to her. I needed her to see that I was safe, that I was alright.

Jimin, who had been walking beside me in silence, glanced at the clearing, his gaze settling on the dancing figures. He watched them for a moment, his expression unreadable, before turning back to me. “That looks like fun,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I shifted uncomfortably, my gaze dropping to the ground. “Yeah, it is,” I replied, my voice quieter than I’d intended. “I love Yuletide. It’s always been my favorite time of year.”

Jimin nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We celebrate it at our house too,” he said, his tone warm. “We burn our yule log in the fireplace. It’s not as grand as this, but it’s nice.”

I laughed softly, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “That sounds lovely,” I said. “I thought your people celebrated Christmas.”

Jimin scoffed, shaking his head. “No,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “A few of the humans do, but they don’t speak for us. We have our own traditions, our own way of celebrating the season.”

I nodded, a sense of understanding settling over me. There was so much I didn’t know about the wolves, about their customs and beliefs. But in that moment, I felt a connection—a shared appreciation for the magic of Yuletide, for the warmth and joy it brought.

We stood in silence, watching the fire blaze, the flames casting flickering shadows across the snow-dusted ground. The warmth of the fire reached us even from this distance, and I could feel the heat against my skin, a comforting presence in the cold night. Jimin would need to leave soon, to make it back to his territory before dawn. I hoped he wouldn’t encounter any trouble on his way home, that the spirits would watch over him, guide him safely through the woods.

“Tell those two kids who found me that I’m grateful,” I said, breaking the silence, my eyes still fixed on the fire.

Jimin nodded, his expression softening. “I will,” he promised, his voice gentle.

Auntie’s voice called my name, her tone urgent, and I turned, my heart skipping a beat. The large white owl was perched on a low branch, her eyes gleaming with concern, her feathers glowing in the moonlight. Relief flooded through me, and without thinking, I rushed over to her, wrapping my arms around her in a warm embrace. The familiarity of her presence, the scent of pine and herbs that clung to her feathers, overwhelmed me, and I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt the tears on my cheeks, hot against the cold night air.

Auntie nuzzled against me, her wings brushing my shoulders. “You’re safe,” she murmured, her voice soft, filled with relief. “I was so worried, little raven.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “I’m alright, Auntie.”

Auntie pulled back slightly, her gaze shifting to Jimin, who stood a few paces away, watching us with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. She perched on my outstretched arm, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Let him know I appreciate him,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m so glad you’re safe, and I owe him for that.”

I turned to Jimin, relaying Auntie’s message. He bowed deeply, his movements slow and deliberate—a gesture of respect from a wolf. Auntie returned the bow, her expression softening, the tension in her posture easing. Jimin rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing slightly, and I felt a pang of sadness. I wished he could stay, wished he could be a part of the celebration, even if just for a little while.

“He needs to get home, Rae,” Auntie said gently, her eyes meeting mine.

I nodded, feeling a sense of finality settle over me. Auntie nuzzled me one last time before spreading her wings and soaring back towards the fire, her silhouette disappearing into the night. I heard Heji’s joyful exclamation as Auntie landed, her laughter ringing out, and I couldn’t help but smile. Yuletide was always magical, always filled with warmth and light, and a part of me wished it could last forever. Though Auntie would eventually become a forest spirit, I cherished every moment of the four years we still had left together. Each Yule, each celebration, felt more precious than the last.

I turned back to Jimin, my heart heavy. “Thank you for helping me,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jimin smiled, a sheepish expression crossing his face. “Anytime, Birdie,” he replied.

I chuckled softly, a hint of sadness in my voice. I wished I could share my real name with him, wished I could let him in on that secret part of myself. But instead, I shook my head, letting the moment pass. The flame that had been dancing on my fingers flickered and died, the warmth fading as the light disappeared. It was time to repay his kindness, to ensure he made it home safely.

Rolling up my sleeves, I took a deep breath, focusing my energy. “This might feel a bit strange,” I warned him, my voice steady, “but it’ll get you home in no time.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and apprehension flashing across his face. “Are you using magic again?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Stand still,” I instructed, my fingers already beginning to trace the symbols in the air, the familiar hum of magic thrumming beneath my skin.

I began to sing the incantation, my voice weaving through the night air, the melody soft and lilting. I pictured the forest floor where I’d been lying earlier—the trees towering above, the damp grass beneath me, the chill of the wind, the direction of the fairy circle. I wove these elements into a perfect mental image, my fingers moving in a fluid motion, drawing a door in the air before me. The door shimmered, the edges glowing faintly, and with a gentle push, I opened it, the magic humming in response.

Jimin’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with awe as he stared at the shimmering doorway. It was clear he had never seen magic like this before, never witnessed the true power of a witch. I gestured for him to step through, giving him an encouraging nod.

Jimin took a deep breath, his brown eyes meeting mine one last time. “Happy Yuletide,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

“Happy Yuletide,” I replied, my heart swelling with emotion.

With that, Jimin stepped through the door, his figure disappearing into the glow. The door vanished, the light fading, leaving only the dark forest and the distant sound of laughter. 

The clearing around me was alive with noise and energy. Taejin was singing loudly with Yoona, their voices blending together in a spirited harmony, while Heji laughed at Auntie’s antics, her owl form perched on Yoona’s shoulder, hooting and flapping her wings dramatically. Wendy and Seokjin were bickering, as always, their voices rising above the rest, filled with equal parts annoyance and amusement. The bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing, its flames reaching toward the sky, and the scent of pine and roasted meat filled the air, wrapping me in warmth and comfort. I couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. This was home—my family, my friends, and the magic of Yule all around us.

I stepped out from the treeline, the crunch of snow underfoot, and made my way toward the heart of the celebration. The firelight flickered, casting golden shadows across the clearing, and the laughter of my loved ones filled my ears, wrapping around me like a blanket. The clearing was busy, everyone caught up in the joy of the moment, and I felt myself relax, the tension I’d carried with me since the forest finally melting away.

Suddenly, Jin dashed past me, laughing loudly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. Right behind him was Wendy, her face flushed with frustration, her hair flying wildly as she sprinted after him. “Jin! You get back here!” she shouted, her voice carrying over the noise of the party. She saw me, her eyes lighting up as she skidded to a halt, raising her arms in a dramatic gesture of victory. “Birdie!” she called, pointing at Jin. “Tell this brainless nitwit to give me back my sandals!”

Jin turned, still running, a grin plastered across his face. “Finder’s keepers!” he shouted back, his voice teasing. “You know the rules, Wen.”

Wendy growled, her eyes narrowing. “I’ll show you ‘the rules’!” she said, charging after him again, her feet pounding against the frozen ground. Jin dodged her effortlessly, his laughter ringing out as he took off like a rocket, his long legs carrying him across the clearing in a matter of seconds.

“Jin, you’re such a brat!” Wendy screamed, shaking her fist at him. “Give them back, or I’ll call Krampus on you!”

“Ha!” Jin called over his shoulder, his voice full of mock fear. “You’ll have to catch me first! Besides, I’ll send the Yule Cat after you!”

I couldn’t help but laugh at their antics, the joy of the moment washing over me like a wave.

“Are you alright?” a familiar voice asked, soft and steady. I turned, and there was Yoongi, standing beside me, his eyes watching me closely. His face was expressionless, but I could see the concern in his gaze, the way his brow furrowed slightly as he took me in.

I let out a breath, feeling a wave of relief at his presence. “I’m okay,” I said, giving him a small smile. “Just a little confused. Did anyone notice I was gone?”

He nodded, his gaze flicking toward Auntie, who was now perched on Heji’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving me. “Aldara told them you were visiting the animals,” he said, his voice low. “But I didn’t buy it for a second.”

“Definitely wasn’t Patto,” I said, shaking my head, my lips curving up in a smile.

Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, his eyes flicking back to the clearing. “What team are you on?” he asked, his voice teasing, his eyes glinting with mischief.

I grinned, feeling a rush of warmth in my chest. “I’ll be team Wendy,” I said, my eyes searching for Jin, who was still dodging Wendy’s attempts to catch him. “She could use the help.”

Yoongi chuckled, his eyes softening as he watched me. The sound of his laughter, low and melodic, seemed to chase away the last of my fears, the memory of the red eyes fading into the background. I reached up, patting Yoongi on the head in a playful gesture before spinning on my heel and sprinting off after Seokjin, the cold wind biting at my cheeks. Yoongi let out a loud yell, and before I could react, he tackled me to the ground, both of us collapsing in a heap of laughter.

“Get off!” I shouted, shoving at him, but he only grinned, his midnight-black hair falling into his eyes. I managed to wriggle free, spitting out a mouthful of his hair as I stumbled to my feet.

“Wendy!” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth. “I’m on your team! Yoongi’s a traitor!”

Wendy’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise before a grin spread across her face. “That scurvy dog!” she shouted, pointing at Yoongi, who had just managed to stand up, brushing snow from his clothes. Wendy tried to catch up to Jin, but as usual, she was outmatched by his athleticism, her short legs no match for his long strides.

“Enough with the pirate talk, Ningyo!” Jin called back, his voice teasing as he dodged around the bonfire, his eyes twinkling with laughter.

“You can’t even spell that!” Wendy shot back, her voice breathless but determined, her eyes locked on her target.

I laughed, the cold wind tousling my hair, the scent of pine filling my senses. Everything felt right, even with the lingering dread of those red eyes at the back of my mind. I tilted my face to the sky, the first snowflakes of the season beginning to fall, drifting down from the heavens like tiny blessings. I closed my eyes, a prayer forming on my lips—a prayer for Lilith to hear, to watch over Jimin and guide him home safely.

“Happy Solstice, Jimin,” I whispered into the night, my words carried away on the wind.

Wendy’s shout cut through the air, snapping me back to the moment. “B! Get him!” she yelled, her voice filled with determination.

I grinned, setting my sights on Jin, who was weaving through the crowd, his laughter echoing in the night. I managed to catch up to him, lunging forward and tackling him to the ground. We both fell, collapsing into a heap of laughter, our breaths coming out in visible puffs of air.

Wendy ran up to us, her face flushed with triumph as she snatched her sandals from Jin’s grasp, giving him a few well-placed swats for good measure. She flopped down beside him, her laughter joining ours, her eyes shining with joy.

Yoongi settled in next to me, his expression soft as he watched us. I leaned back, resting my head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his presence, the steady rise and fall of his breath. We all sat there, our laughter mingling with the crackle of the bonfire, the snow falling softly around us, blanketing the clearing in a gentle glow.

The New Year was just eleven days away, and I felt at peace. The darkness of the forest, the red eyes that had haunted me—they were still there, lingering at the edges of my mind. But in that moment, surrounded by my friends, the warmth of the fire, the laughter and joy of Yuletide—I felt safe. I felt like everything was going to be alright.

Taglist: @greezenini @jimin-neverout@adventures-in-bookland @canarystwin​

© chimcess, 2022. Do not copy or repost without permission  

[heckinconfusedparade]

Hullooo!! Tis the season for meeriment, could you do the Wachowski family decorating their Christmas tree (w/ extra fluff?) along with Sonic explaining the holiday traditions to Tails & Knux (w/ a side of humor) pretty plz?

I gotchu!

TIS THE MUHFUKIN SEASON AND ALL THRU DA HOUSE Sonic is makin a ruckus, much louder than any mouse.

This boy is blasting Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You while yelling that “SHE HAS DEFROSTED!”

Tails knows Christmas. He didn’t really get to celebrate it officially in the orphanage. But this.. puzzles him. Earth Christmas is a much bigger deal than he thought.

Knuckles is proper confused. He doesn’t know who Mariah Carey is, why someone wants him for Christmas, and what the season of holly jolly brings.

Sonic pulls up in the hallway with a Santa hat, sunglasses, and a small Santa jacket. He cheers “MY BROTHERS!! REJOICE!! FOR IT IS CHRISTMAS.” Maddie laughs “Sonic, what is all this?”

“It’s our first Christmas together! It’s a huge deal!” Sonic raises his arms up to emphasize. Knuckles approaches his brother “I would like you to explain Christmas to me.” Sonic stands proudly “of course, my dear older brother.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Knuckles asks, and Sonic ignores him, going to hunt down the youngest. Tails is heading up to the attic when Sonic stops him “excuse me young man, where do you think you’re going?” Tails gives Sonic a look “upstairs.” “Why?”

Tails turns and sits on the step “well.. Christmas wasn’t a big deal where I’m from. At the orphanage, we just got a slightly better quality meal, and maybe a gift or two.. some kids got gifts from donations. I got nothing.. I stopped asking for anything. I figured I didn’t deserve the luxury of gifts.” You hear that? That’s the sound of Sonics heart breaking.

Sonic sits next to his little brother “Tails.. I’m. Im sorry to hear.. you do deserve gifts! You deserve all the gifts! Besides a couple felonies, you haven’t done anything bad this year!” Tails snickers. Sonic puts his hat on Tails and picks him up onto his shoulder “cmon little bro! Let’s go help mom, dad, and Knux decorate!”

They go downstairs into the livingroom, where the tree itself is almost up.

Knuckles brings a couple large boxes that Tom had told him to bring up. When theyre opened, they find that the boxes are stuffed with decorations and Christmas ornaments. Tom and Maddie laughs as their boys dig in and start hanging up the ornaments.

The boys discover that their parents had bought 3 special ornaments: a hedgehog, a fox, and an echidna! Tails is jumping for joy. Knuckles is happy global shipping is a thing so Australia could bless him with this ornament. They hang up the ornaments together, putting them right next to each other.

Sonic is so happy to be involved this Christmas, and not be decorating a stick in his cave with random trash.

The tree is topped off with a star, one that the brothers again put up themselves by stacking on each other’s shoulders.

It is complete. Now for the rest of the house!

During decorating the livingroom, Tom asks “you boys ready for Santa Claus to come to town?” The boys look at each other confused. They knew of a Santa Claus, but they were not aware that he would be coming to town.

Knuckles raises a finger “uhm. Father? Explain this Santa Claus to us.”

Maddie and Tom are shocked! Then they realize that Santa must be an Earth thing.

Maddie sits her boys down “Santa is a big jolly man who comes around every Christmas Eve to bring presents to all the good boys and girls! We bake cookies for him and leave out some milk so he won’t be hungry or thirsty travelling the globe.” Tails’ eyes widen “he travels the world in ONE NIGHT??” Tom nods “yea buddy! He flies around in his sleigh pulled by his 9 reindeer!”

The brothers gasp. This guy sounds awesome! Sonic does wonder why he didn’t get anything.. but then he chalks it up to him being so great at hiding.

They spend the evening talking about Santa and what they want for Christmas.

Sonic wants to get everyone a gift this year.. but he isn’t sure what.

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Thanksgiving is a big holiday in the USA,

Chris loves tradition such as holiday celebrations, so it doesn't make sense why a wife would willingly be half across the world at an event that she has no reason to be at. She made it clear by saying she has nothing to promote or speak about. Therefore, she had no reason to go.

I know she isnt from the USA but if i had a spouse who had a holiday that was important to him like Canadian Day, ect, I'd be there. Thanksgiving is a heavy, tamily oriented holiday

Marriage is about growing together and experiencing things together. What we see seems to be everything Chris said he didn't want. His morals and beliefs can be "sold" to us, but there is no reason for him to say he wants to have traditions with hia family unless the he wants the tradition is being thousands of miles apart.

I swear if I hear one more freaking thing about Chris being the reason she isn't talking or doing things online, imma scream. First off Chris has been looking horrible- so bad ages 10 years and sull laxlluster skin- he used to glow. He syattwd to lose that glow during the SMA shoot (i waa locing the farm boy vibe) but The only reason he looked better on the View's zoom is his old camera, zoom filter and makeup. That isn't the look of someone who is orchestrating and being the puppet master. We also know the man has bad anxiety - RDJ wais on a talk show that Chris had a huge anxiety iasue over who arrived first to the Civil War premier and the cars. Think about it does ir sound like a man whose a maatermind for a a whole year + of things

2ndly the nazi has a track record of making bad decisions when it comes to social media (and prob. elsewhere), ie the shower vid that was left up? It takes seconds to take down and she left i4 up. Then the videos/pictures showed she doesn't have an engagement ring or wedding band. Those jewels are watched like a hawk, so it makes sense that she didn't have them on because they weren't hers so she wasnt allowed to wear the jewlery more than necessary for the event.

Idc who you are you wear the Cartier ring on the other hand necause no one takes their engagement/wedding rings because they have two hands- 2!! It's peoven she can't be trusted on social media by herself without her screwing up the narritive their teams want to push. Frankly, I say let her post and screw things up, she looaes followers when she posts so ler her lose more so she has bots.

I'm team just get this over with and srop torturing our Dodger.

Thanks for reading

👑 I usually stay behind the scenes helping book researching things but I had to say those things in a forum.i know peoplemwouls losren.

Bookie also deserves a round of applause we constantly try and make sure we have the facts and receipts. Bookie has done a lot more than you know all know, and I dont think shes been getting the credit she deserves - so let's all give hwe a big round of applause and thanks for crearing the safe soaxe on her blog that is informative and understanding and a positive environment

Honestly, 👑 An🫶n, I agree with everything you said about Chris.

It's kind of not possible for the guy to be a mastermind, because again, and say it with me, Fandom... Chris Evans is not that good of an actor.

And awwwwwww... You're welcome 🤗 y'all deserve some of the cred. Y'all interact with my posts and send asks, otherwise my page would be as dead as it was years ago...

I only tell it like it is. I just didn't know a lot would agree 😆

So, a big thanks goes to y'all for tuning in and sticking around 🥂 here's to more new content in the future ❤️

[fyrewalks]

a not-so-brief look at bob's early life and things pre-top gun, all in one post for your convenience!

his parents met at 19 and 23 at rit in ny, his dad was finishing up college. they started dating in october, by february she was pregnant, and by the end of the spring semester they were married. as rushed as everything had been, they truly love each other, regularly gush about it being love at first sight, and are still very much happily married.

they lived briefly with his maternal grandparents in ridgewood nj when stevie was born before moving when his dad started flight school

bob was born four years after stevie as his dad finished flight school and started his navy career as a fixed wing pilot in earnest

gracie was then born four afters that (bob 4, stevie 8) and his parents were really starting to feel settled in their lives at this point - despite their rushed start, they feel like they've finally done things "right" and "traditional", old enough now that the worst judgment for being young military parents doesn't phase them as much.

his childhood is largely happy, even with the constant moving (they bounced between virgina and florida, mainly) and his dad's deployments.

bob was always a shy, quiet child very much the opposite of his mom and sisters who are social butterflies, well suited for military life. while his sisters ran around the house with the other base kids, bob was content to help in the kitchen or hide out in his room with whatever electronic he'd been allowed to tinker with, legos, or whichever comic or show he was into at the time.

while his dad may at first appear quiet, at least compared to his wife, he's loud and the first to laugh when at home with his family and friends. he is, however, strict, reserved, and protective in a way that many military parents often are so bob's often struggled to read him.

growing up, they'd split summers between montanna at his paternal grandparent's ranch (stevie was the ultimate horse girl fyi) and his grandparents in ridgewood, who spoiled them endlessly

during a family vacation in ridgewood in january, a trip they took as an entire family before an upcoming deployment, stevie fell into the ice while they're out ice skating on a local pond. while she was initially resuscitated, she passes a week later. she was 14, bob 10 and gracie 6. his parents tried to be optimistic, shielding them from the worst by not being entirely truthful on how unlikely it was that she'd wake up again and keeping the kid's visits short; as a result, bob feels robbed of that time.

their house, which was once constantly loud and busy with activity, becomes quiet after they sit shiva. his dad is redeployed two months after stevie's death, unable to defer it further, and whatever success his mon had at holding their family together, crumbles. no large shabbat dinners where everyone from the neighborhood is invited; no more kids running around the house as the moms chat.

(@heartsbreaking quote wrecked me when were talking about this so must share it with you - like imagine having a big family with kids always doing SOMETHING and you can always hear someone somewhere and then suddenly you lose one of those sounds)

bob goes from helping around the kitchen to cooking meals, helping gracie get ready for school and then camp. two weeks into a local day camp, he breaks down in the middle of lunch, which sets off family counseling and support from their temple.

with help and time, they all adjust to their new family dynamic, but the damage is already done - bob was forced to grow up too soon, too fast and his mom depends on his help more than either realizes.

he also starts spending more of his summers at his grandparent's ranch rather than new jersey. bob likes the horses and, perhaps surprisingly, prefers the physicality of it. he enjoys working with his hands, though, bob quickly realizes he has no interest in taking over the ranch. no, he'd love to be up in the sky.

in the summer between middle and high school, bob comes out as gay. his dad doesn't hesitate; he's the first to hug his son and reassure him that everything will be alright, but while bob sometimes has trouble reading his dad's expressions, he doesn't struggle in the days after - as supportive as his dad is, there's no ignoring the plain fear in his dad's eyes inspired by the military's policies and attitudes towards gay men.

it's a fear that grows when bob starts to more openly express his interest in becoming a naval aviator.

they're lucky; they move back to jacksonville at the start of tenth grade so bob gets to enjoy a more traditional high school experience. he runs track, is popular among his clique of nerds by virtue of being top of the class, and is president of the robotics club. he also spends a good amount of time volunteering for a jewish family services organization.

don't be fooled, though, while he is largely mild mannered and follows his parents more tedious, over protective rules, he's easily talked into breaking some of them by gracie, more so once he's driving.

in an effort to dissuade bob from becoming a navy pilot, his dad allows him to take flight lessons at 17 so he can get his civilian license. it does the opposite - bob finishes high school with a navy rotc scholarship to mit. (his dad also spends some time encouraging him to go into intelligence, capitalizing on his love and interest in learning hebrew)

it's a tense summer, his dad is terrified both by bob being a gay man in the navy and just at the idea of losing their son. so is his mom, though her fear is more inspired by the danger of piloting. it culminates in a nasty fight, his dad threatening to cut him off should he go. so, bob goes and his mom follows his dad's lead.

bob's roommate invites him to some house party two days into term, and without the rules or any reason to say no, bob goes and finds that liquid courage makes him courageous instead of overanalyzing every word of every social interaction. and thus starts his spectacular spiral. he drinks, a lot, and sleeps around. he scrapes by in classes because he's the type of person who doesn't have to study too hard, and well, his rotc requirements are another story. bob manages, but he's not impressing anyone.

bob doesn't go home over winter break and when he stays in boston for the summer too, his parents realize he may not ever come back home again. it takes some time for them to mend their relationship, slower due to bob's drinking. as much as he tries to hide it from them and gracie, it's obvious.

while he does come home for winter break the next year, it's not his family that convinces him to stop drinking. one of his instructors sits him down when he returns to campus for the spring semester - he knows bob's been drinking, has lost a few part time jobs due to it, and with more than a few mentions to his father's successful career, outlines just how thoroughly he's screwing up any chance of accomplishing something similar. it's a real 'come to jesus' moment and it helps give bob the final push he needs.

it works, in part because bob's ready to change and because he also starts going to temple again, which in turn helps him build a healthy, if small group of friends and gets him involved in a few campus clubs (one of which he starts dating their final year of mit. they later mutually breakup a few months into flight school, neither interested in long distance.)

with sobriety, a few friends, and new interests comes clarity - bob's still very much interested in aviation, just no longer piloting. he likes the technical side of things and wso offers him the same satisfaction he'd assumed piloting would.

flight school was largely uneventful. he dated around casually but found it hard to date other service men just as it was hard to judge if civilians were interested in him beyond his uniform (and he was, and still is, reluctant to drag someone into this life).

bob also found it hard to fit in due to the drinking culture. while he becomes comfortable enough to have a glass of wine during shabbat dinner or pick out something that compliments a good meal, bob does not go back to social drinking and will not drink at bars, parties, etc. a single glass of wine with dinner is his limit.

he graduates flight school, gets assigned to a squad to the eagles and is quickly recommended to top gun despite his little experience and young age.

[pontevoix]

hc + nanami for haibara from here | @chaoslulled

headcanon | yu haibara + his perception of nanami kento

i.  the  truth  starts  to  come  out  a  little  when  yu  starts  at  tokyo  metropolitan  curse  technical  college.  he  &  his  innate  technique  did  not  spring  randomly  into  existence  the  day  that  he  started  seeing  curses.  his  sister  is  not  randomly  gifted  with  sight.  their  father  had  been  affiliated  with  a  sorcerers’  family,  &  he  had  either  vanished  or  died.  their  mother  didn’t  know,  &  so  there  was  nothing  to  be  told  or  explained.

not  until  yu  had  been  scouted.  when  he  let  the  recruiter  into  his  kitchen,  he  was  a  little  flummoxed.  his  mother  was  at  work,  &  his  sister  at  a  friend’s.  he  scratched  at  the  back  of  his  head  &  brewed  a  cup  of  tea  for  his  company.  the  recruiter  was  nice  enough  when  he  delivered  his  well-rehearsed  speech  about  cursed  energy,  about  why  he’s  talking  to  yu,  about  the  opportunities  at  tokyo  metropolitan.  what’s  more,  the  recruiter  was  nice  enough  to  pretend  that  yu  had  much  of  a  decision  to  make.

from  what  it  sounds  like  —  cursed  energy  attracts  cursed  energy.  more  curses  flood  to  yu  than  they  do  his  sister,  &  he  figures  it’ll  probably  be  safer  for  her  if  yu  goes  elsewhere.

he  brews  the  tea  a  little  too  strong.  the  recruiter  doesn’t  drink  it  anyway.

ii.  he  goes  to  school,  &  when  yu  steps  onto  campus  ?  he  rubs  his  hands  together  in  genuine  anticipation.  he’s  always  been  the  type  of  person  who  likes  to  get  his  hands  in  the  dirt  of  a  place,  to  try  a  little  of  everything.  this  place  feels  old,  &  it  feels  like  money.  it  feels  like  traditions  &  histories  that  he  doesn’t  know.  on  one  hand,  stepping  onto  campus  feels  like  the  beginning  of  some  sort  of  adventure  novel,  like  maybe  there  is  room  to  go  on  a  treasure  hunt  here  or  something  wild.

&  then  he  had  learned  how  small  the  student  population  of  the  school  was.  there  was  no  guarantee  that  there  would  be  another  student  in  his  class  (  from  yu  hears,  they’re  still  negotiating  with  the  other  student  ).  for  the  first  time,  something  a  swell  of  panic  set  on  his  chest.  he’s  a  painfully  social  person  —  always  has  been.  he’s  been  told  that  emits  a  lot  of  energy,  that  he  has  a  way  of  making  people  feel  good  .  .  .  &  it’s  a  a  little  bewildering  because  yu  is  pretty  confident  that  he  draws  his  energy  from  his  company,  that  he  only  feels  good  because  he’s  not  alone.

also,  silence  makes  him  restless.

but  things  work  out.  he  meets  nanami  kento,  &  the  swell  of  panic  turns  into  a  swell  of  relief.  yu  wouldn’t  be  remotely  surprised  to  learn  that  others  could  feel  his  relief.

iii.  potentially,  yu  may  think  of  nanami  as  being  highstrung  &  still  .  .  .  yu  feels  too  much  relief  tied  up  in  cords  in  his  chest.  because  nanami  hasn’t  come  from  a  background  of  jujutsu  family  sorcery,  &  yu  hadn’t  knowingly  come  from  a  background  of  jujutsu  family  sorcery.

so  at  least  they’re  starting  off  on  the  same  foot,  mostly.

iv.  yu  &  nanami  become  good  friends.  yu  is  increasingly  grateful.

v.  it’s  more  than  being  grateful,  though,  because  it  really  is  a  genuine  friendship.  friendship  comes  with  the  with  indulgences  that  nanami  allows  when  yu  invites  himself  into  nanami’s  space,  with  the  the  way  yu  shoves  his  gameboy  into  nanami’s  hands  because  he’s  annoyed  with  a  boss  leel.friendship  comes  becayse  yu  shows  nanami  texts  from  his  sister,  because  nanami  sometimes  hovers  by  his  shoulder  when  they’re  everywhere.

it’s  genuine  because  they  can  make  one  another  laugh  (  granted  yu  laughs  too  easily  ).

yu  has  bouts  of  jealousy  sometimes,  that  nanami  is  able  to  handle  strategy  so  easily.  nanami  sometimes  doesn’t  like  to  be  around  him  when  yu  leaves  the  air  around  him  a  little  too  charged  with  the  signature  of  his  emotion.

that’s  pretty  cool  though.  yu  can  sometimes  be  too  much  energy,  nanami  can  sometimes  be  secluded  —  &  at  the  same  time  that  they  can  both  be  the  way  they  are  &  still  feel  good-spirited  when  they  study  together  late  at  night.

vi.  for  the  record,  nanami  does  make  him  a  better  sorcerer.  together,  they’re  good  sparring  partners.  yu  thinks  sometimes  he’s  dragging,  but  he  does  feel  confident  that  he’s  giving  it  his  all.

he  really  is  confident  in  the  decisions  he  makes,  in  the  decision  to  give  everything  his  all.

so  far,  his  sister  is  doing  all  right.

vii.  there’s  that  one  mission,  &  things  go  a  little  off  kilter.  a  girl  is  dead.  gojo  (who  almost  died)  has  a  lot  of  solo  missions,  &  geto  (who  almost  died  )  is  sinking.  yu  can’t  shake  the  feeling  that  his  peers  keep  giving  him  sideways  glances.

geto  thinks  that  he’s  being  diplomatic  when  asks  if  it’s  hard  being  a  jujutsu  sorcerer.

yu  is  the  lowest  ranked  of  them.

he  compensates  the  way  he  knows  how  —  propositions  of  food  &  making  too  much  tea.

maybe  it  works.

viii.  then  he  dies.

when  he  dies,  he  asks  too  much  of  nanami.  he  doesn’t  mean  to,  &  he  doesn’t  think  to  stop  himself  in  the  moment.

there  was  adrenaline  that  made  him  feel  more  awake  than  he  was,  there  was  fear  that  was  something  forced  into  his  lungs,  &  he  bled  quite  a  bit.  breathing  was  hard.

his  autopsy  would  show  that  life  had  been  sucked  out  of  him,  that  he  would  die  with  grey  already  in  his  skin.  his  autopsy  would  show  the  obvious  :  that  he  had  not  died  upon  impact.

when  he  dies,  he  asks  too  much  of  nanami.  his  memory  is  hazy  about  the  moment  of  death  but  he’s  sure  he  asked  for  something.

then  he’s  grateful  again.

when  he  died,  he  wasn’t  alone.

ix.  besides  that,  nanami  was  an  intrusive  thought  sometimes.  someone  that  was  too  close  &  not  close  enough.  he  was  someone  that  yu  trusted  easily.  he  boasted  about  nanami  on  nanami’s  behalf.

their  friendship  could  have  grown.

yu  turned  into  a  haunt.