#not gonna fuss too much about lines (relatively). that's the plan at least

[little-eye-guy]

comic things i accomplished today:

solidified the layout of the panels, put in the dialogue, and finished the first panel (scene to establish location before moving to an interior which will have very little background detail)

preview of the latter shown above

[weasleyswizardpleases]

And the Living is Easy (Fred x reader)

Summary: You spend the first night of summer vacation getting into trouble with the Weasleys + Harry and Hermione. Fred x reader. Fluffy mischief mostly, but sex is discussed and implied. 

Warnings/Notes: Light sexual content but not all out smut, alcohol, heights, language. I wrote this to be a stand alone, but I enjoyed it so much that it might become part of a loose series of slice of life-y reader x twins fics set at the burrow over the summer! ps i did not edit this at all after writing it at 2am so. uh

Summer at the Weasley’s is my favorite time of year. After my mother passed, you were tossed around from boarding school to boarding school, relative to relative, never really having a say in where you went, or with whom. But ever since becoming fast friends with Fred and George while repairing brooms for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, you’ve pretty much been considered an honorary Weasley.

You stow your suitcases in the overhead and squeeze into a seat next to Fred and George. Across from you, Ron, Lee, and Harry are packed in. 

“Do you reckon you’ll ever make it out to the burrow, Lee?” asks George pointedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t know what you’re missing out on. Mrs. Weasley’s hotcakes are out of this world.” Harry says.

“And there’s loads of space to play quidditch.” you say.

“And loads of secret spots not even Mum knows about where we can basically do whatever we like.” adds Fred.

“You know my mum will hardly let me out of her sight for a day. Merlin’s sake, she’s practically ass to elbow on me all summer.” Lee says, faking a pout. “Quit ribbing at me, would you? Or I’ll spend the summer in my room coming up with derogatory names to call you on the Quidditch pitch.”

Murmurs of “Come on, we’re only joking.” and “Fine, fine.” fill the packed compartment. You lift your rat Pansy up to the window to show him the scenery.

“Bet you’ve never seen the fine English countryside like this, eh Pansy?” you baby-talk at him, scratching his little noggin.

“You know that thing is never gonna talk back at you, right Y/N?” says Fred, rolling his eyes. 

“You never know. Look what happened to Scabbers.” you say, wiggling you eyebrows. “This rat could also secretly be a creepy little pervert who watches me undress at night.”

“I suppose it isn’t unprecedented in the rat community,” agrees George. Ron scowls in disdain.

“That’s my pet we’re talking about!” he says, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

“Yeah, fine pet he was.” says Harry, grinning.

“I will say, Ron-” Fred begins, clearing his throat. “You’ll never find another like him.” He claps his little brother on the back and stands up, peering down the hallway. “Oi, it’s the trolley, look alive Georgie.” George rises and straightens his coat. The boys have been planning for ages to charm the trolley witch into selling their skiving snackboxes. They run off down the car towards her. You tuck Pansy back into his cage and watch the scenery go by yourself. Before you know it, you’re being shaken awake by Fred and George. 

“C’mon, Dad is waiting!” says George. 

“Got you some chocolate frogs, but that means you owe us one.” says Fred, shoving a wriggling paper bag into your hands. Delighted, you expertly open the bag, catch a frog, and slurp it up before it manages to escape. 

“Tank -ou” you mumble, your mouth still full. Lugging your trunks over to meet Mr. Weasley, you smile with excitement. Every summer with the Weasleys is a blast, but you know this one will start off with a bang because last week Fred absconded with a jug of top shelf mead from Filch’s office. You’d all agreed that you needed it more, since you want to have fun and have no money, while Filch obviously dislikes fun and ostensibly has some amount of money squirreled away from all his groundskeeping or lurking or whatever his job is. 

After greeting Molly, you and the twins bound up to their room- and, when you’re here, your room- pushing and shoving your way up the narrow stairwell. You toss your things down and throw yourself onto a bed, spreading your arms as if making a snow angel. 

“Oh, boys, it is good to be home!” you say, laughing. Fred and George always joke that their mother likes you, Harry, and Hermione better than any of her own actual children, and you love teasing them about it. 

“Speak for yourself, she’s already got that sending-us-to-de-gnome-the-

garden-while-hungover gleam in her eyes,” retorts George good-naturedly.

“And get your shoes off my bed! Mum will have all three of us beating out the rugs if she sees that.” says Fred. You close your eyes and pretend to be asleep, baiting the boys into attempting to push you off the bed. You wind up making such a ruckus roughhousing that Hermione comes in looking concerned, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You all three pause from your compromised position to look at her, you releasing a vise grip on Fred, George dropping your left leg, which he had been twisting violently.

“When did you get here?” you ask, running to hug her. 

“Just apparated over, my parents would never forgive me if I didn’t at least drop by for dinner before practically moving here for the summer!” she replies, turning to greet the twins. 

“Are you going to be participating in our little soiree tonight, ‘Mione?” asks George, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are you three planning?” she asks sternly, stifling an excited smile.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you say. 

“But don’t wear white shoes.” warns Fred. Hermione gives you all a funny look before running off to finish her greetings. 

“Where are we going tonight, Freddie?” you ask, looking up at your tall friend. He gives you a cheeky glance.

“Oh, out by the bog. There’s a huge hill between there and the house, so we can make a fire and nobody will see.”

“And there’s a huge stand of trees and a pond between that spot and the neighbors’,” says George. 

“You two have got it all figured out. And you’ve got the firewhiskey! What a night, what a night it shall be.” you say, your voice singsonging as you dance exaggeratedly. 

“Too bad nobody invited any girls.” says Ron from the doorway. He’s been standing in the hallway looking in the mirror for some time now, fussing with his hair.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Ginny shouts from her open door down the hall.

“YOU don’t count!” Ron replies.

“We know you’ve got someone else in mind, little brother.” George says, flicking Ron in the ear. 

“It’s pretty obvious,” Fred agrees.

“You get all flustered when she corrects your grammar,” you say.

“And you let her braid your hair.” says Fred.

“And you-” begins George, but Ron interrupts, his face beet red.

“Shhhh! Buzz off you two, or I’ll start blabbing on about who you’re interested in as well.”

The twins exchange a somewhat threatened glance, but say nothing.

“That’s right, I’m not as dull as you lot like to think, thank you very much. I notice things. So let me alone or I’ll sing like a canary!” Ron finishes, turning back to the mirror for a final glance at his hair before trotting downstairs. 

“You two have crushes?” you demand, turning to stare down the twins. Fred shrugs with his usual attitude but you notice a light blush spreading across each of their cheeks. You swat him across the chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it? You motherfuckers.” You grab George by the collar. “George, tell me who it is! A crush, my god.” You throw your hands up in the air. They’re being super weird, so you decide to drop the subject. “When you snog every girl and half the boys in the school, between the two of you, you practically hold us all down to tell us the details but now you’ve got a crush and suddenly you’re like a couple of mimes.” You look each of them in the eyes, and both avoid your stare. “Fine! Don’t tell me.” You throw your hands up in mock anger and lead the charge downstairs to begin setting the table for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~After dinner, you pass the evening playing cards and chatting until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley retire for the night. Then, you’re left with all your friends and Percy, who it has been agreed simply cannot know you’re sneaking out to drink in the woods, because he is a killjoy. Using a previously discussed maneuver, Hermione attempts to trick him into believing that she and Ginny are going to bed, hoping that he will get nervous about being bullied if left alone with you and the twins, and elect to follow them to bed soon after. However, Percy is in an unusually jovial mood, and so Ron and Harry are forced to retreat as well. As a last line of defense, you pretend to fall asleep on George’s shoulder, nuzzling into his sweater. When Percy gets up to go to the bathroom, you dash outside into the moonlit yard, covering your mouth so your giggles don’t give you away. You run to crouch behind the garden shed, doubled over with laughter. 

“I thought he would never stop yapping.”

“God, how are you two related to that bore?”

“We can’t help it.” Fred says, bending to gather rocks from the ground. 

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Watch!” he raises his hand to throw a pebble at Ginny’s window, but you grab his wrist.

“Have you lost the plot? Percy will hear! And probably your mum too, with your aim. I’ve got a better idea,” you say, peeking around the garden shed while gesturing for the boys to stay put. You pop out of the shed with a dusty, rickety broom. 

“Does this thing still work?” you ask.

“Well enough,” says Fred, getting a running start and jumping on the broom. Wobbling a bit, he sails up to Ginny’s window and confers with the girls, then moves on to Ron’s window, where he perches on the sill, one foot dangling out the window.

Beside you, you’re aware of George’s presence beside you in the cool, sticky night.

“Bloody brilliant,” he murmurs, elbowing you gently. “How’d you even know that thing was in there?”

“Lucky guess. I mean, with a family full of Quidditch players, there’s bound to be a broom lying about someplace.” 

Fred jumps down onto the broom and turns a few experimental loop de loops overhead before nearly falling and coming to a shaky landing near your feet. 

“That one belongs on the rubbish heap, honestly,” he says, laughing as he tosses the old thing aside.

“Oh, sure, blame it on the broom,” you tease.

He’s soon followed by Ginny and Hermione on Ginny’s broom. They glide down and come to a halt next to you, stepping down gracefully.

“How are Harry and Ron going to get out? They’d have to go right by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, unless Harry has his broom up there with him, but I think I saw it in the foyer.” says Hermione, looking at Fred worriedly.

“Well, err, I told them to climb down,” says Fred earnestly.

“What?!” says Hermione. “They’ll be loud as bison, besides probably breaking their necks.”

“It’s not my fault they’re too dumb to pass their apparation O.W.L.S! They’ll be fine.”

As he finishes his sentence, Ron’s window slides open and Harry’s head pops out. He lowers what appears to be a rope made of sheets and blankets tied together. Hermione’s brow furrows as she watches, helpless, while Ron artlessly slips one leg out the window, before even checking to see that the “rope” is nowhere near long enough to reach the ground. Ginny giggles, biting her lip when she sees Hermione’s distress.

“Do something!” Hermione hisses, nudging her. Ginny groans and soars over to boost Ron onto the back of her broom, going back to do the same for Harry.

“Shite! The firewhiskey,” you whisper, smacking your forehead. Everyone lets out a collective groan, but before you can send someone back up to hunt down the alcohol, Ginny opens her backpack, revealing the gleaming jug. Everyone cheers, but then quickly realizes that loudly cheering may have blown your cover. Fred and George scurry off into the brush and you all follow them down a lightly trod path through the countryside, eventually reaching the open bank of a large, murky pond. This is a spot you’ve never been to before, probably because it’s a fair stretch away from the house, and apparently from any civilization at all. 

Hermione quickly conjures a large fire, creating a pocket of warmth in the chilly night air. You lean against a large rock and shiver when the cool stone brushes the back of your neck. Ginny pulls out the firewhiskey and hands it to Fred, who pops the cork, shouting with glee before knocking back a sip and passing it to George, who passes it to you. The familiar sickly sweet liquid burns your throat and warms your stomach, and you feel your (already barely existent) inhibitions begin melting away.

Before long, Ron suggests that you all play a game, and you run through your options: truth or dare, spin the bottle, a wizarding game you’ve never heard of, and hide and go seek. Hermione refutes hide and go seek on the basis of safety, and Fred refutes spin the bottle on the basis of the fact that four out of six of you are siblings. Not everyone brought their wands, so you can’t play the magic game, and you’re left with truth or dare as the apparent winner, which you were rooting for anyway, because you want to see what you can get the twins to do. It almost makes you wish Percy was here so you could put him in a compromising position, but knowing him, he’d find a way to make walking on hot coals boring. 

“I’ll start, I’ll start!” you volunteer, looking around the circle. “My first victim will beeeee…” you look at Hermione, who cringes nervously, then spin around to point at Harry. “Harry Potter. What will it be, Mr. Potter, truth or dare?” you ask.

Harry shrugs. “Hmm.. I’ll do.. Dare, why not?” he replies. 

“Alright Harry, I dare you tooooo.... Oh, easy. I dare you to smack Ron every time he says something you think is stupid tonight. And be honest, or we’ll smack you,” you say. The twins nod in agreement. 

“That’s not fair! That’s barely a real dare!” protests Ron. You raise an eyebrow at Harry, who turns and gives his friend a good wallop. 

“Alright Harry, your turn.” 

You play for nearly an hour, all the while passing the bottle lazily between you, until everyone’s good and tipsy on the strong liquor. Several good dares are exchanged: Fred is dared to give you a lap dance, which he does with gusto and an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. You dare Ginny to race you across the pond and back, and you both strip down to your skivvies and plunge into the chilly water. Ginny wins, of course, but you just wanted an excuse for a swim. Fred lends you his cloak, patting it onto your shoulders to dry them before you pull your pants back on. George dares Ron to walk back to the house and get food, which he reluctantly agrees to after everyone bullies him into it. By the time he gets back with a basket of pastries and jam, you’ve transitioned to mainly truths, because the well of dares has run dry. 

When it’s Hermione’s turn to ask Fred, she blushingly asks if he’s lost his virginity. 

“What, do you all think I’ve snogged every girl we know without scaring? Have a little faith, please.”

“Clever, but that’s not an answer!” slurs Hermione, pointing at him and grinning. “Have you actually had sex before, or do you just talk a big game?” 

“Well, have you?” you ask, laughing as he tries to bluster out an answer.

“”Course I have. Ask anybody. Everybody must think George and I are the male sluts of the century, the way you people talk.” 

“Still not an answer!” you say, looking at him mischievously. 

“How’s this for an answer, then?” he retorts, pulling you to his waist and kissing you on the lips melodramatically, throwing you up against the rock, practically fucking but for the clothes. What’s probably thirty seconds of kissing at most feels like an hour. Everyone goes “Oooooh!” and when he finally lets you go you’re flabbergasted, but you recover your senses.

“Point taken, then. Alright Freddie, your turn,” you say, straightening your clothes and trying not to look like you enjoyed that. 

“I dare Hermione to let us play hide and seek, for fuck’s sake,” he says, lazily.

“Ugh! I might be drunk but I’m not letting anyone stumble around alone in the pitch black plastered out of your mind. Ask me a real question!” 

“What if we weren’t alone?” Harry asks, looking around. “I mean, we could go in pairs or little groups. Like team hide and seek, basically.”

“I call Fred and George!” you cry, throwing your arms around their sweaty necks. 

“Fine, but please be careful. And everyone should be on a team with at least one person with a wand,” says Hermione, who teams up with Ron. That leaves Harry and Ginny on the last team.

George produces his wand and casts an illumination spell.

“Not it!” You shout, immediately echoed by Ginny. 

“Alright, we’ll count to 50” says Hermione, but Harry and George protest until they finally agree to 3 minutes.

Fred tears off into the woods and you and George follow, bushes thwacking you in the face, vines snagging at your ankles. You break through the brush into a field, panting, and stop for a break. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, looking around. “And where are we?” 

“No idea!” Fred says gleefully. 

“What about over there?” George nods towards a patch of grass and trees down in a glenn. You lope down hill through high grass and crash to a halt in the stand of trees, crouching low. Fred huddles next to you and George clambers clumsily into one of the trees, flattening himself into one of its crooks.

You can feel your stomach churning after your run, but you manage to successfully push down the acrid taste rising in your throat. Above you, you hear George belch, and just manage to slip out of the way as he spits a pitiful glob of vomit to the ground.

“Oi, we’re down here, you lout,” hisses Fred, ducking.

“Look at the state of you,” you drawl, bumping into Fred as you readjust around George’s vomit. He groans from his spot up in the tree and lies back down sleepily. To your surprise, you feel the urge to pull Fred closer rather than pushing him away. The earthy smell of the forest floor calms your stomach, and you find your mind wandering to his lips, his hands on your waist and neck. Buzzing with drunken impulsivity, you wrap your arms around his slender waist and pull him to sit beside you. He looks surprised, but readily slouches against the tree trunk next to you. You can feel his chest rising and falling with each breath. The air is still and cool in that settled way characteristic of the night.

Overhead, you think you can hear George beginning to snore. 

“Freddie-” you begin, but before you can say a word, his lips are on yours, his hands tangled in your hair. You push him down and roll over so that you’re straddling him, gripping his jaw in one hand as you kiss him, hard, then gently. His lips are softer and more relaxed than they were when he kissed you earlier, and his body less certain. There’s no false bravado in him now, and you bite his lip gently, your tongues barely batting together. You reach down to unzip his pants but he pulls back.

“Y/N- I- Look, I may have lied earlier,” he says, his face flush with desire and embarrassment. You look at him quizzically, your drunken mind not connecting all the dots. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t… done this before. I’ve only ever kissed. Although I’ve done quite a lot of that.” he says quietly. You blink.

“Oh. Oh! You total freak. Why go to all that trouble to convince everyone you have?”

“Have you considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?”

This shuts you up. He pulls you back down to kiss you again, this time on the cheek, on the forehead, the neck. 

“Don’t do anything you don’t want to do,” you say carefully, brushing a bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“No… no, I’m ready. I want this now,” he says, tugging at your shirt. You pull it off over your head and toss it into the grass, the game of hide and seek forgotten. Let the shirt be a warning flag to any nosy passerby. Fred kisses across your chest. 

“Freddie, we’re drunk,” you remind him, your breathing growing heavier as his tongue flicks across your nipple.

“I want you,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck in between kisses. “I want you, I want you, I want you,” he says. You kiss him in reply, and move again to unzip his pants. You feel his hard member ready to burst out of his jeans, and it sends a thrill through you.

You had considered that you might one day wind up with Fred or George, and honestly, you had figured it would be on some less-than-sober whim like this, but you never really pictured it. You certainly never imagined Fred like this, innocent and tame, hoping for someone else to take the lead.

“Will you show me how?”

“Yes,” you breathe your reply into his mouth.

“Will you go slow?” he asks sweetly, his coy submissiveness sending tremors through your body. 

“Yes. Come closer.”

In the morning, you groggily open your eyes at the sound of birds chirping. You sit up, your head throbbing, and look around. Above you and a few feet to your right, George is sleeping soundly on his belly in the flat convergence of an oak tree’s branches. To your left, shirtless and smeared with dirt, is Fred curled on top of his cloak, also fast asleep. 

“Guess they gave up on finding us,” you mutter, running a hand through your hair to smooth it into place. You remember what happened last night well enough, although some parts are cloudier than others, and you don’t remember deciding to fall asleep at all. You suppose it just happened at some point. Your heart beats faster, wondering if you and Fred will be an item after this, or if he’ll want to keep it quiet, or if you just won’t talk about it. You’re not sure what you want, yet. It’s still purple pre-dawn in the countryside, the sun not quite peeking over the horizon yet.

You know you enjoyed yourself, and you adore Fred- as a friend, certainly. As something more? Maybe. You brush away your anxieties and trust that you’ll settle things when you’re less groggy. Suddenly, it dawns on you that you’ve got to get back to the house before Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wake up and notice your absence. You stand up as though the ground caught fire, kicking at Fred and shouting at George to get down.

You fetch your shirt from a nearby bush, and pluck a twig from Fred’s hair as he looks up, dazed.

“God, my head,” he says, squinting up at you. “What the hell time is it?”

“Never mind that, you’ll have worse than a headache if we don’t get back to the house by like, yesterday.”

“Merlin!” George exclaims, perking up and basically falling from his perch to the ground. Recovering he stands up, taking his surroundings in. “Hold on, what the hell happened to you, Fred? Where’s your shirt?”

“No time for all that, go!” you say, shoving George in the direction you suppose the house is in. You muster as fast a pace as you can and follow him, Fred scrambling to gather his cloak and tee shirt before catching up with you. With George’s back to both of you, you exchange a goofy grin and a wave of relief runs through you. He obviously doesn’t consider last night a mistake, either. You slip your hand into his and make your way into the breaking dawn.

[kirstinmaldonado]

Chapter Four 2.0

Is it just me or are the alarming numbers of posts about weight gain or weight loss in this time freaking everyone out? I know I’m not innocent; I’ve definitely joked about my personal quarantine-15 as well, blindingly attempting to hide my own insecurities with it through humor.

But if I see another “Carbie” or changed photo online insinuating weight gain, I might cry.

It’s hard enough trying to “make the most” of your time, even if you’re riddled with it. If you read my last post, you’d think by now I’d be the fit, Spanish-speaking, piano-playing, singer-songwriter that Week 1 Kwarantine Kirstie dreamed of. As we know, I’ve “fallen off.”

But have I? Is this really the age we’re in? Where in a global pandemic we still feel the urge to get a thousand things done in the mere 24 hours we get a day? 

That societal pressures are so prominent that we all joke together about how much weight we’ll gain? And where posts scream at you with side by side pictures of extreme weight loss, expecting you to not only have your life together but lose weight with all this “extra time?”

I digress. I can’t do it all and keep my mental health in check.

People are either finding new or returning to hobbies to distract themselves from what is going on right now, and that’s great. If yours is that home workout, I applaud you!! Keep at it! It’s so good for your mental and physical health, I know I need to be more on top of it! 

If it’s reading a little, spring cleaning, whatever it is that you are able to accomplish, I am proud of you! If you’ve been able to dig in and uncover a goal you’d not been able to achieve before, don’t let this or anything hold you back! I hope to get to that mindset and I feel I am on my way!

But in the meantime, I’ve been baking, and since there’s only two people in the house it’s, y’know, not ideal for the waistline.

But here’s my deal. I’m coping. When I went to the grocery store a few weeks ago and saw empty shelves, I cried and went to the baking aisle to get decorations and proper ingredients for the baking I was planning on doing. My hands have been stained with food color more often than not within just this last week, as I baked for friends’ birthdays in quarantine and for Easter.

And that’s okay! I am adapting.

You know why I stopped baking so much in the first place? I ran out of time. When I’d be home from tour I wanted to relax more than work all night in the kitchen. I wanted to spend quality time enjoying others’ company rather than cleaning pots and pans all night. But I’ve realized now more than ever that baking just brings me this sense of happiness, like I’m sure other things do for you guys.

There’s a rhythm to baking, how you mix it. You can’t rush the process, ‘cause the icing will melt if your treat hasn’t cooled. There’s a sense of calm patience I enjoy that is hard to replicate. And then the decorating taps in to my artistic side, and depending on how I’m feeling I’m either slathering that icing on freely or delicately decorating with pearl accents and made-from-chocolate flourish!

Baking brings me back to Nana’s and Grandma’s kitchens. My favorite thing was baking with them, rolling dough, watching them and learning! As I grew older, got my own place, that feeling of baking and care-taking made me happy. Baked goods always have a lot of love in them, I feel, and is this not a time to put a smile on peoples’ faces? Why not do what I love on Easter and bake a whole cake, a hobby that reminds me of my family that I miss so much and can’t be with?

I don’t want all this to sound like an explanation for my recent eating choices. You’re not my food journal. And even though I’ve dipped away from my goals and feel a little disappointment, I know I was cathartic baking and so accept the consequences of my actions. The point is to recognize and move forward.

I also don’t want this to be like every “how/why not to gain weight in quarantine” post, because I don’t know how to do that.

With all the stress on how this would progress, I don’t blame myself or anyone for freaking out when they saw empty shelves and grabbing the closest thing they could find that has a decent shelf-life (Kraft Mac n Cheese…). The real hurdle here, my point, is just making sure you’re being healthy to yourself.

If you want some red wine, go for it. If you want to treat yourself, okay! These things are all fine in doses as long as you don’t transform your habits from healthy to unhealthy.

I have binged before. I have purged before. I have had the most unhealthy views of my body before. I still battle with it. But within this last year I have gained so much knowledge about how my body operates. I have fed it cleaner food and seen how it’s transformed my mind, body, and spirit. I have worked SO hard and done two a days. It’s not always the easiest, but I spent quality time taking care of myself.

All that to say, my initial 2020 goals were to remain on track and healthy to myself. This is THE year, I thought.

Coronavirus put a…twist on my goals. I haven’t been fussing about the wine I’ve had, or the goodies I’ve made, as I focused more on my mental health. I am glad I let myself just be. It really helped. But it’s mid week five and we have five more weeks ahead of us at least. And as I started looking at myself in the mirror, or flipping through Instagram, I could feel my anxiety creep up again. So I made that dreaded trip to the scale and got out my measuring tape which I’d used before to track progress.

And you know what? I gained inches. I gained weight. 

Did it make me…kinda sad? Yes. I felt disappointed as if all my hard work last year was for naught.

But…I gained weight in a global pandemic.

In the big picture of things, how fortunate am I to have the resources to feed myself. To gain weight. 

All these ads, all the modified pictures which are ACTUALLY kinda fat-shaming, all this panic of gaining weight is so triggering while everyone is just trying to keep relatively afloat. It feels insensitive. I can’t flip through Instagram without seeing people capitalizing on the situation. “Lost 20lbs with this amazing home workout plan and tea” or diets to take care of the “stubborn fat you’ll have” when this ends. It’s toxic for those that battle with eating disorders or body dysmorphia. It’s toxic for those that are just able to get what they can. There’s enough stress already! We are staying inside and at home for a REASON. If you have the luxury to gain a few pounds while you’re safer at home, good for you. Don’t be so hard on yourself as you try to mitigate a PANDEMIC.

I am trying not to be. I am re-adjusting how I’m working out so it fits more in line with my aesthetic goals. We are almost done eating the carrot cake from Easter (yikes, I know, already, it was too good). 

All I hope for myself, and for you all, is that you don’t fall in to unhealthy ways, mentally or physically. It’s a battle, especially in this time, I know! I’ll be the first to say I haven’t been my best. Gaining some pounds isn’t unhealthy itself, but can manifest into bad habits in this isolation like binging or an overall sedentary, unmotivated lifestyle.

If you’re moving, you’re getting a little sun, and you are staying safe and healthy, you’re gonna be okay. Don’t let little personal fluctuations alarm you and derail who you are and what you’ve worked for. The world is fluctuating with you, so you are constantly having to adapt!

I’m going to make a better effort to not coop myself inside, be aware if I’m overdoing the emotionally eating, and feed my body in all the right ways. Mind. Body. Spirit. Besides that, it’s just taking one day at a time.

I hope you all are safe and healthy. I hope you all are still believing and trying your best. <3

[ilovethings-somuch]

The Smallest Audience Member

Chris Evans x Reader

Anon Requested: I have this A-level fluffy idea that came to mind. Its a dad!Chris Evans x reader. So Chris stars in this Broadway show (Lobby Hero) so, when you guys attend your 3 yr old boy keeps calling him wanting his attention. (Idk if that's possible in general, but its fanfic, so, *shrugs*) You can end it however you like. Would you be comfortable writing it? Pretty please?

A/N: Obviously this request came in when Chris was actually doing Lobby Hero, unfortunately, I’m the worst and writer's block + school has been killing me so I didn’t finish until now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 

(I do reference the mustache in the fic, but I wouldn’t want the picture to be an act of aggression) 

Chris being involved in a Broadway show was kind of a dream come true for him. He always talked about how he didn’t love acting in movies as much as he had when he started out, but performing live every day was just the thing he needed to reignite his love for acting. The only unfortunate thing about it was that James and I were stuck home in Boston while Chris had to live in New York for a couple of months. At 3 years old James had begun to understand that Daddy’s job meant he wasn’t home all the time, but that didn’t make the time apart any easier. For that reason, along with a few personal ones, I made it a point to take some time off from work near the end of his play run so that we could stay with Chris in New York and have a chance to see him perform before all heading back to Boston together.

As much as I wanted to surprise Chris by showing up in New York, I knew that it would be too difficult to figure out the logistics of travel and where to meet him without his help. So, after hinting at the idea for a while and finally telling him about how I got time off from work, we set to work on figuring out the best travel plans for me and James to visit for 2 weeks.

Arriving in New York with a 3-year-old was much more stressful than I imagined, and the fact that our flight was right in the middle of what should have been nap time only made matters worse. I got an Uber from the airport to Chris’ temporary home and he met us on the front step with a huge smile on his face. James’ mood seemed to change the moment he saw his dad, even though Chris had changed his look pretty dramatically with the mustache and hair, James didn’t seem to mind the change and all the attitude that was coming out before quickly melted away as Chris led us into the apartment. After some slight fussing Chris managed to convince James to take a nap, leaving me and Chris to have some time to ourselves to catch up. Once we were fully alone Chris and I shared our first kiss in over two months. It felt reassuring and normal, minus the change in facial hair which left me rubbing my upper lip.

“That’s gonna be something new to get used to,” I said.

“Sorry,” Chris replied sheepishly. “Only two more weeks, it’ll be the first thing to go.”

I gave him another kiss to prove that I would get through it. Even though we’d been talking on the phone or facetiming pretty consistently while he’d been gone, it’s always better when I’m with him and can reach out and touch him or kiss him whenever I want to.

Once James woke up from his nap, we had a couple hours to grab dinner before Chris had to be at the theater. Chris ordered in from the restaurant he’s been raving about ever since he got to New York and I get a sense of what he’s been up to around here without me and James around. Before the show actually started, he seemed to be at the theater almost constantly, but now that they’re actually performing they have a lot more free time. However, Chris informed me that performing live is way more exhausting than being on a movie set all day, so even though he does have free time, he spends a good portion of that just lounging around his apartment.

James and I weren’t going to Chris’s show that night since it runs too late for James to stay awake through it and be in a good mood, so once he headed to the theater I found a nice park in the area and headed over there to let James get some energy out. Upon seeing the dog park in the same area I regretted not driving down and bringing Dodger along on this visit, then again I couldn’t remember if Chris’ apartment was dog-friendly or not and I wouldn’t have wanted to get him in trouble.

On Saturdays, Chris had two shows a day instead of one. While this meant that we’d have less time to actually spend with him, it also meant that James and I would be able to go to his 2 o’clock show. Chris was nervous about us seeing him perform, but I knew he was going to do great and I couldn’t wait to see him on stage. James didn’t totally understand, but he was at least agreeable when I convinced him he needed a nap earlier in the day if he wanted to stay up to see Daddy’s show.

Chris had to be at the theater an hour before the show started. We ate a quick lunch together while James was napping before he left. It seemed like neither of us could get over the fact that we were together, and we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Granted, it wasn't the same way as before we had James, or if James hadn't come with, but even the chaste touches were special after being apart.

After Chris left I set about making James' lunch and packing a small bag of snacks and quiet activities to keep him occupied in case he got bored during the show. Once James was awake and he had eaten it was time to head to the theater. Chris' apartment was close enough to the theater that I decided we could walk. James wanted to walk on his own but since he's not good at holding my hand and we were in a hurry I opted to carry him. The theater was easy to spot due to the large number of people accumulating outside. I got in line with other people who had pre-bought their tickets. I saw a few people with Captain America gear and knew they were here for Chris. It was always nice to see how his fan base supported him in every aspect of his career.

The line started moving relatively quickly and we were ushered inside. I was able to find our seats with little hassle in the small broadway theater. James started bouncing in his seat the moment I set him down and I had to quickly sit him down all the way which caused him to pout at me. I was able to keep him busy with his favorite book for the short period of time we had to spare before the show started. As soon as the lights dimmed I noticed James yawn largely, that one small action gave me the littlest bit of confidence that he would fall asleep during the show or at least relax enough to stay quiet. Unfortunately, that confidence went out the door as soon as Chris stepped on stage and gave his first line. James perked up immediately and when he located Chris��� spot on stage a huge smile grew on his face and he began to wave over his head. I quickly moved him onto my lap and whispered to him that he needed to be quiet and sit nicely if he wanted to stay for Daddy’s show. He didn’t seem to understand this request and gave me a pout, but nonetheless, he obeyed and moved back to his seat where he stayed mostly quiet through the rest of the show. At the intermission, Chris sent me a text saying he saw James waving at the beginning, along with a cry-laughing emoji. I passed on the information that Chris saw us in the hopes that it would get James to stop trying to get his attention. It mostly worked, but there were still a few moments in the second half when Chris got close to our side of the stage and James tried to call to him.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad outing for a 3-year-old and I was proud of how well he behaved. An usher found of after the performance and lead us back to Chris’ dressing room.

“Hey, what did you guys think?” Chris greeted us.

“You did amazing! I mean, I kind of hated your character, but that just made it all the more impressive.” James leans from my arms into Chris’ as we spoke and quickly piped up about him being on the stage.

“I was on the stage, was that cool?”

“You were a cop!” James said excitedly and Chris laughed.

“I was, I was pretending to be a cop for the show.”

“And you was talking funny,” James added with a slight scowl on his face.

“I was, wasn’t I? Hey, are you hungry?” Chris changed the subject and James gave an enthusiastic yes.  “Perfect, I know just the place for dinner.”

The rest of our trip to New York passed rather uneventfully, with sightseeing, testing out New York’s finest Pizza places, and stopping at some museums the time passed too quickly. Before I knew it Chris’ play run was coming to an end and it was time for all of us to head back to Boston. It was bittersweet for Chris. He loved his time acting on the stage again, but I knew he was excited about getting back home to the rest of his family, especially Dodger.

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Ephemera Chapter Eleven

Ephemera: In art, transitory written and printed matter (receipts, notes, tickets, clippings, etc.) not originally intended to be kept or preserved.

Alternatively, things that exist or are used for only a short time.

Description: Nobody knows who Vante really is. Everything about the popular artist is shrouded in secrecy: from his face to his name to everything in between. After years of working for his art gallery, Y/N feels she may just be the closest thing he has to a friend. Between her success at work and her relationship with campus hot-shot Jeon Jungkook, Y/N’s life has never been better. But is Jungkook truly who he says he is? And who will Y/N protect now that she knows Vante’s livelihood may be on the line?

Genre: Romance, Drama, Fluff, Angst

Pairing: Jungkook x (f) Reader x Taehyung

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: Non-Idol!Au, Gang!Au, Art History Student!Reader, Film Student!Jungkook, Art Student!Taehyung

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol, although infrequently

A/N: Woohoo another chapter! I’m really excited for you guys to read this one. These days I’ve been playing around with a Namjoon fic idea 👀 haha so there’s that to look forward to once Ephemera is done! As always, thank you so much for all the love and support. I really don’t feel like I deserve it, but I’m grateful! Please don’t be shy and send feedback, critique, questions, theories, and comments my way. I’ll be sure to respond to all asks I receive within a day of receiving them! Links will be added later!

And again, if you want to follow my Twitter, my username is @/plzpunchmebts. I’m super active over there and hopefully in the future I’ll do some livestreams/chats with you all!

- Mercury

Previous Chapter – Next Chapter

Masterlist

Weekly updates: Sunday, 1PM (PST)

A palpable hush fell over the room, coating the air in a thick film. Tension built like momentum downhill, sure to snap should anyone clear their throat or set their foot down too loudly. Taehyung stood on the stage, gaze sweeping out across the ocean of people. On his lips, a confident smile that nearly made my heart race. He cleared his throat and fussed with his cufflink once more before releasing a long sigh.

“I have a feeling that big things are coming,” said Taehyung with a smile. “And I’d like to come out from the shadows to be part of them.”

I staggered back just as rapturous applause echoed through the hall. My body felt cold, like all the heat had drained out through my toes. I bumped into a man behind me whose wide eyes showed more concern than frustration at being shoved. I bowed my head and stumbled past him, towards the massive closed doors. My vision was blurry and it took me several bracing moments in the hallway to realize that it was because I was crying. My throat was so tight it was a labor to breathe and despite the hallway being relatively empty due to the speeches, I still felt like I needed to run someplace, find a closet or something where I could be alone.

But before I could take even a step, I felt a hand on the crook of my elbow and I turned to see Jungkook with wild, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. I tried to discern any measure of anger in his expression, but found only bewilderment.

This had been Taehyung’s plan all along, huh?

Draw Jungkook out, have me play assist, and take the wind out of his sails by revealing his identity himself before Jungkook had the chance to use it against him? Knowing he’d only follow me, knowing that if the invitation came from me Jungkook would trust it…

It’d be genius if it wasn’t so cruel.

“Did…Y/N, did you know?” he asked, breathless as he turned his eyes toward me.

I shook my head, wiping my face wildly and pulling back fingers stained black with makeup. “I-I…he told me to be in-in the ballroom for the speeches and-and…,” I couldn’t finish the sentence for my sobbing.

In the end, I’d been another pawn in their game.

Just like always.

Jungkook scanned me and slowly his expression turned serious. He furrowed his brow and nodded. “You’ve been watching me for him?” he asked.

I sniffled, gasping as my tears stole my breath. “Yes,” I choked out.

Jungkook sighed, gripping his nose bridge, and slowly released his grip on my arm. “How much do you know, really?” he watched me from above like an inquisitor, like any reaction I had would be marked and recorded.

I shook my head again. “I-I…I know you were u-using me to spy on Vante,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair, undoing hours of work I’d spent on the style.

“And?” he asked, eyes flashing between mine. “This is important, okay? Did you know why?”

I sniffled and shook my head. “No…,” I said, calming down the longer I looked at the autumn brown of his eyes.

He sighed and nodded, leaning away and rubbing his jaw. “Okay…okay, okay, okay…fuck!” he shouted, kicking a silver trashcan so it fell onto its side, spilling its contents onto the carpeted floor.

I jumped, a little gasp escaping me. Everything seemed so strange, like it wasn’t real. I felt delicate. I felt like one wrong move and I’d break for real. Jungkook, noticing my reaction, turned to me with wide eyes and approached me too quickly. I stumbled back a half-step, but my heel caught in the train of my dress and I fell straight on my tailbone. Crying out in pain, I winced and squeezed my eyes shut.

Jungkook looked horrified above me, brows knitting and hands outstretched like he might have hugged me if he could. His eyes were glassy. “I-I’m not…I’m not gonna hurt you-,” he began, but his words were cut short by the large door from which we’d emerged sliding open once again.

And from that door, Kim Taehyung.

Upon taking in the scene before him, Taehyung’s eyes went wide and his jaw clenched. Without a second thought, he lurched toward Jungkook and grabbed him by the collar, roughing up his suit. I stared from the floor, all the strength I’d summoned to come here in the first place fleeing through my cold fingertips. My tears were still wet against my cheeks, and as Taehyung’s nostrils flared I watched Jungkook go slack in his hands.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, huh? You still gonna act like a thug at a black-tie event?” asked Taehyung, spitting his words.

I came to my senses and jumped to my feet, quick to run toward the boys and paw at Taehyung’s suit sleeves, desperate to stop him before anyone got hurt. “Taehyung stop! He didn’t do anything-,”

“Feeling betrayed because she lured you here?” asked Taehyung, soliciting a glare from Jungkook that only made him chuckle. “Well, you can only use a person so long before they snap.”

“Taehyung,” I said, warning in my voice, yanking him by the arm.

But he was stronger than me, resisting my force. “What’d you think, huh? She’d come running to you after all you’ve done?” he asked, smirking. Something dark swam in the browns of his eyes. “Stupid.”

“Taehyung!” I shouted, forcing him to look at me as I furrowed my brow. “He didn’t hurt me. I fell on my own,” I said. I gripped my nose bridge, my tears having temporarily taken a hiatus, and sighed. “If any of you would just listen to me-,”

“Vante?” asked a deep, male voice from the ballroom doors.

I turned to meet the person, Taehyung still poised with his arms on Jungkook’s lapels, and saw someone vaguely familiar. It took me several moments of squinting to remember who it was. With a start, it came to me: the man from the club. The one whose suit I’d ruined. Tonight he wore an impeccable set, wide shoulders and clean lines, black-and-navy pinstripes. He looked like someone out of The Sopranos. I swallowed hard and glanced up to see Taehyung also frozen.

Jungkook, using the distraction, shook Taehyung off with a scowl, straightening his jacket. He wouldn’t look at me. But when his eyes met with the man’s they went wide and he scoffed, crossing his arms.

That’s right. He was supposed to supply Jungkook with tickets to this event…

Who was he then?

Taehyung turned to him with a polite grin, dusting off his jacket. “Hello,” he said gently, bowing.

The man held out a hand for Taehyung to shake and the two exchanged a smile. “It’s an honor to finally meet you,” he said, then laughed. “And to think, here of all places.”

Taehyung raised his brows. “I…don’t follow?”

The man laughed. “Oh, pardon me. I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Younghoon from Sanyo Industries.”

I stiffened, edging closer to the exit. It seemed Jungkook had the same idea, and the two of us took tiny steps backwards while Taehyung and this Younghoon conversed. I eyed him sidelong, and this time he finally met my gaze. He lifted his brows and swiftly glanced toward the large glass doors behind us, leading to freedom. Like an invitation to run with him.

This time, I took it.

As silently as we could, the two of us slipped out into the blistery night. I watched as Jungkook eased the door closed with a cringe, likely praying it wouldn’t make a sound. With a sigh, he stood up straight once the door had clicked back in place, patting his pants down as they’d gotten mussed up during his scuffle. And then suddenly, we were alone once more.

I wrapped my arms about myself and shivered, glancing to the side toward the bustling street. At the other entrance, guards still maintained their post. I fished around my bag for my invitation and found it once more. At least if I had to, I could return to the gala.

Jungkook was the first to break the thick silence. “So…Vante knows we’ve been watching him.”

I nodded, sighing. “You can’t be too mad at me,” I said with a shrug. “You have been manipulating me for three months.”

All was lost anyway. At this point, my relationship with Jungkook was unsalvageable, if that was even something I wanted at all. And I wasn’t so sure if I wanted to associate with Taehyung anymore. For someone who was so very appalled by Jungkook using me, he sure used me with ease…

Jungkook nodded, running his fingers through his hair. “Fuck…,” he whispered with a sigh.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He glanced up at me, scanning me. “Will it mean anything if I say how deeply sorry I am?”

I shrugged. “I dunno.”

He nodded and rubbed slow circles into his sharp jawline. “Wanna get something to eat? There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks down,” he said, jerking his chin toward it.

I sniffled, rubbed beneath my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah.”

I sat with my lips wrapped around the straw of my milkshake, eyes faraway as they settled on the worn plastic table separating me from Jungkook. He barely touched his chicken nuggets, and a large order of uneaten fries sat between us. All around, people bustled and chatted. It seemed we were the only two in the whole place that were melancholy enough not to eat the food we ordered.

“Everything’s kinda gone to shit, huh?” asked Jungkook quietly, poking a nugget with his slender index finger.

I nodded. “It was unsustainable anyway, wasn’t it?” I asked with a sigh, taking a sip and shutting my eyes. “All the lies had to come out eventually.”

“I’m surprised you’re not more mad,” said Jungkook.

I opened my eyes to look at him and he seemed near tears himself. I simply sighed. “I was mad,” I said with a nod. “At first, I was really mad.”

“And now?” he asked, eyeing me.

“More than anything…hurt,” I said with a nod. “I really loved you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh.

I shrugged. “But then I realized…I didn’t even know you to begin with. The person I lost when I realized you’d been lying to me…didn’t even exist to begin with.”

“Don’t say that,” he said quietly, shaking his head.

I rested my cheek in my hand, the laughter and the yellow fluorescent lights nearly drowning out my voice. “If it hurts you so much, why did you do it?” I asked. “To ruin Vant-er, Taehyung?”

Jungkook sighed and pushed his nuggets away altogether, leaning back and crossing his arms. “It’s not Vante we were after.”

“We…I’ve known for a while, but Seokjin is in on it too, right?” I asked, raising my brows.

He nodded. “I shouldn’t be telling you this since you’ll tell Vante but, since we’re fucked anyway…,” Jungkook said with a sigh. “It’s my job. Seokjin recruited me after my dad…,” he began, then sighed and waved his hand. “Anyway, Seokjin poached me off the street since I was doing…some unsavory work at the time and told me he could give me safer work.”

I furrowed my brow. “What kind of work?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Usually petty shit. Scouting out a rich woman’s cheating husband, helping local gangs defend their territories, blackmailing company heads…not particularly legal, but we’ve done some job for city police officers so they turn a blind eye.”

“We…?”

“There’s a lot of us. Like…ranks,” he said with a shrug, glancing to the side at a couple sharing a Flurry, smiling as they talked in low, intimate tones. “I’m high up. So is Seokjin. I mean, he kinda has to be since he’s our founder.”

I nodded, sipping the thick milkshake. I felt like I might puke. “It’s not legal…,” I urged.

He chuckled, and for some reason his smile put my stomach at ease. “Of course not,” he said, glancing at me with that same smile.

I swallowed, running a hand through my hair. “I…see…”

“Do you hate me now?” he asked quietly, almost a whisper.

I stiffened and glanced at him. Vulnerability made his eyes glassy and his cheeks flushed. “No, Jungkook,” I said, rubbing my temples as a tension headache began to grow. “If I did, my life would be much easier.”

He nodded. “I understand,” he said. “And…if you weren’t such a good person, you wouldn’t even be giving me the chance to explain. I feel like even now…I’m taking advantage of you.”

I sighed. “I’m here willingly, Kook. And besides, I think after all this I deserve some answers at least.”

“There’s a lot I can’t tell you,” he said, shaking his head. “About why we targeted Vante, about who hired us. I could lose a lot more than money. But…I’ll answer your questions as well as I can.”

I pushed my shake away. “Did the guilt make you crazy?” I asked.

He stiffened, like I’d surprised him, and cleared his throat. He rested his cheek in his hand and looked down at the table, avoiding my eyes. “Every day.”

“Why didn’t you just…stop then? At any point?” I asked. I chewed on my cheek, old hurt seeping through my voice. “I saw your texts with Seokjin while we were visiting my dad. He gave you an out.”

Jungkook’s eyes flashed up to meet mine before quickly departing. “I…I knew that once the job was over…I’d have to stop all communication with you.”

“Are you even a student?” I asked.

His eyes went wide. “O-of course!”

I nodded. “That’s good then,” I said.

“But…,” he hedged, scratching his arm. “That class we took together…I only took it because you were taking it.”

My eyes went wide. “E-Excuse me?” I asked, heart thundering.

He groaned, lolling his head back. “God, it’s all so shitty,” he whined. “We have an intel agent who’s, like, godly at hacking. He…got your schedule and Seokjin pulled some strings with the registrar to get me in.”

“It was all…all a lie?” I asked, tears brimming once more.

He sniffled, rubbing his swollen, red eyes. “Yeah,” he said, and it sounded like a cry.

I wasn’t sure why a wave of fresh hurt washed over me, sweeping me away in the undercurrent, but my stomach was twisted in knots and my heart ached like I’d been punched. “I…I don’t think I can see you again,” I said, sniffling.

Jungkook’s eyes darted back to me, wide, worried. The color had drained from his face. “What?”

I shook my head. “I…I think it’ll hurt too much to see you,” I said, meeting his eyes. My throat constricted at the pain in his face. “Even looking at you right now,” I began, voice cracking, “I feel like I’m falling apart.” I covered my lips with my hands as more tears streaked down my cheeks.

Jungkook’s lips were agape, eyes wide, and slowly he nodded. “Ah…y-yeah, I…I understand. I did really shitty things t-to you. I wouldn’t really…wanna be around someone like that,” he said, laughing lightly as he rubbed the back of his head and looked away. It was clear he was holding back tears, and for that I was grateful.

If he cried, I knew my resolve would crumble at my feet.

I sniffled, using the McDonald’s napkin to dab my tears, and nodded. “I-I want you to live a good life, okay?” I asked, reaching out to grab his hand in mine.

He glanced at me with knitted brows and nodded. “I will,” he said, voice strangled in his throat.

I smiled, standing to my feet. “I’m gonna go back to the gala,” I said with a sigh, patting my dress as I sniffled. “I’ve got a lot of questions for Taehyung.”

Jungkook stood quickly, our untouched food forgotten, and stared at me, eyes wide. “I can walk you!”

“Jungkook-,”

“Please,” he said, brows knitted, imploring me.

I shut my eyes with a sigh and shook my head, turning on my heel. “Fine,” I said, already halfway to the exit.

The walk back to the venue was long and silent. Old blisters from weeks of working in bad pumps pressed against the thin straps of my new shoes. I’d taken only a brief moment to fix up my makeup in the McDonald’s bathroom, but I knew it wasn’t really salvageable. Like many things, there was no way to bring it back to how it was before.

We approached the entrance once more and, with my eyes on the concrete below my feet, I turned to Jungkook and bowed my head. “Thanks for walking me,” I said quietly, scratching at my arm as my gaze darted around.

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Ah…yeah. Um, thanks for…letting me.”

I nodded, finally lifting my gaze to find him staring down at me. I forced a smile. “Thanks for the last few months, Jungkook.”

He nodded, cheeks red and eyes still glassy. “Mhm,” he said, gently reaching out to take my hand. I let him. “If…if nothing else, I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I said, scanning him as he watching his nimble fingers tracing my skin.

“It doesn’t change anything, does it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes. “I…I could leave it behind, you know.”

I stiffened, staring at him with wide eyes. “You could what?”

He met my eyes, thick brows knitted, and nodded. “I could quit.”

I swallowed hard. The selfish part of me longed to tell him to do it, to encourage him to leave the bad work in the past, to move forward being good. But…then I remembered a few clues. He’d mentioned his mother having to work because his dad wasn’t the best. He said something about his dad before, about when he was working on the street…

Did he have any other options?

I clenched my free hand around my clutch and exhaled, long and slow. “Jungkook…,” I began, eyeing him. “Is that what you want to do?”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing, running a hand through his hair. “Is it what you want me to do?”

A dark nostalgia washed over me. Wasn’t this eerily similar to that conversation we’d had before? When he asked if I was unhappy? “I…I want you to,” I said, then shook my head. “But that’s been a problem all along, hasn’t it?”

He glanced down at me, vulnerability in his eyes. “Huh?”

“You’ve always been tailoring yourself to me,” I said, unlacing our fingers so I could press a palm to his hot cheek. “Because you needed me for the job…you’ve molded yourself into my perfect guy. I wonder if you’ve ever been alone with yourself long enough to know who you are.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you saying it’s okay if I keep working?”

I sighed, letting my fingers feather across his jawline. “I’m saying that what I want more than anything is for you to know yourself well enough to know what you want.”

He inhaled sharply, shoulders pinching, and took my hand once more, pressing it against his lips without moving them. “We’re gonna have to find a new angle since Vante’s out,” said Jungkook, lifting his eyes quickly toward mine. There was a hunger there that made my heart race. Hungering for what?

“I figured,” I said with a nod. “Are…are you gonna hurt anyone? Doing this?”

He sighed, shutting his eyes and resting his lips once again against my knuckles. “I hope not,” he began, shaking his head. “But there’s no victimless crime.”

“And you’re okay with that?” I asked, quiet.

He swallowed hard. “Have to be.”

Before I could say another word, a couple of guests stumbled out of the door behind us, clearly inebriated as they were escorted out by security. They fell in heaps on the concrete outside, mumbling as they dusted themselves off. And, like a broken spell, my senses returned to me and I slowly pulled away, letting my hand drop to my side. Jungkook opened his eyes to look at me, and there was a sad understanding in the way his eyes narrowed slightly.

I shook my head, watching the ground. “I’m gonna go inside.”

“Alright.”

“I…I think it’s best if you lose my number.”

“I understand.”

“And,” I said, taking a half-step back toward the venue, tears making my throat constrict, my voice heavy, “please take care of yourself.”

He nodded, smiling softly, and raised a hand to wave me off. “I will,” he said.

“Goodbye, Jungkook,” I said, voice barely above a whisper.

He turned halfway toward the street and nodded his head once, still smiling, before turning on his heel and retreating down the sidewalk with his hands jammed into his pockets.

It took me a few quiet moments standing dumbly outside the Exhibition Center to realize he didn’t say it back.

When I returned to the ballroom I saw Taehyung surrounded by swarms of people, his cheeks flushed as he smiled brightly for each of them. Quietly, I ordered a drink from the bar and took a few sips, watching him from a distance. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to him. Not only had he been lying to me, he’d taken advantage of my relationship with Jungkook to further his own agenda. While I would have been supportive from the start, the deception was what bothered me. And something else, something deeper.

The lack of agency.

I felt much like a chess piece being forced across the board by many, invisible hands.

As Taehyung chatted, I saddled up to a barstool and sat down, rubbing my sore ankles with a wince. “Rough night?” said a voice from beside me.

I opened my eyes and glanced toward the voice. A young man, maybe a few years my senior, with warm brown eyes, sideswept silver hair, and dimples on either cheek gazed at me gently. I bowed my head in greeting which he returned. With a sigh, he shucked off his coat, seemingly having just arrived at the bar himself. He waved over the bartender who was quick to fix him a drink, not even asking his order once.

Another important man.

I scowled and nursed my own drink, sipping lightly. “You can’t even begin to imagine,” I said, frowning at the amber liquor.

He laughed. “Try me,” he said, still smiling. “Tonight hasn’t really been my night either.”

I eyed him. The idea of someone else being just as miserable as me was enticing. “How so?”

He hummed and took a deep swig of his drink, cocking his head to the side before shrugging. “Well, I found out some concerning news about my friend,” he began, counting on his fingers as he went. “I bought this new suit for tonight, but the sleeves are too short.” I chuckled, relief streaming through my veins as a brief flash of comfort came with it. He smirked. “And nobody even cared about my speech because of Tae-er, Vante,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “Wasn’t even that good of a speech,” I mumbled.

He laughed. “You don’t like him?”

I shook my head. “He’s my friend,” I said, then sighed. “At least he was. Turns out he’s been keeping a lot from me.”

“Ah,” said the young man with a knowing nod, tipping his drink against his lips. “You didn’t know?”

“You did?”

He gave me a wink over the rim of his glass. “Of course,” he said, then leaned closer with a smile. “I knew him before he was Vante.”

I stiffened and turned toward him, giving him my full attention. “You did? How?”

“We worked at a bookstore together-god, was it five years ago? He was eighteen,” he said with a scoff. “Couldn’t even describe the amount of stars in his eyes. The optimism kinda got beat outta him those days, working all day and night. But he kept at it.”

“It paid off,” I said.

“And then some,” added the man with a laugh, swirling his drink in his hand. “He helped me when I was really struggling. Anyway, he’s a good friend. Maybe my best friend.”

I eyed him. “And…he’s a good person right?” My voice was small as a mouse.

The man laughed, shaking his head at me. “What would ever make you think he wasn’t?” he asked. “Taehyung is one of the best people I know.”

I sighed, relieved. “And I can trust him?”

The man smiled at me, giving my upper arm a brotherly pat. “He’s still young and headstrong, maybe a little hotheaded…but I’d trust him with my life.”

I nodded, offering a smile. “Thank you,” I said.

He shook his head, and seemed about to speak again, but noticed something behind me that made him quickly stand to his feet. He was tall and lean, more imposing than he seemed sitting, and he quickly collected his things to leave.

He gave me a quick grin before patting my shoulder. “I gotta blast. Man of the hour’s coming this way and I’m not feeling quite ready to face his fan club.”

My eyes went wide and I turned to find that, indeed, Taehyung was making his way over toward me, surrounded on all sides by guests who simply wouldn’t leave him alone.

I returned my attention back to the man and gaped as he began rushing in the opposite direction, waving over his shoulder. “Traitor!” I called after him, to which he only laughed and jogged away, his jacket draped over his forearm.

As Taehyung finally approached me, I was quick to stand myself, facing him with a cocked brow as the crowd parted to make way for me. “Hey,” he said, breathless, with a smile.

I nodded, eyeing the group around him. “Quite the celebrity.”

He chuckled and rubbed his neck. “I guess so,” he said. “We…uh, we should talk, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling at the group as I wrapped my fingers around Taehyung’s bicep. “Pardon me, but I’m going to have to steal Mr. Vante for a few minutes.”

A few in the group chuckled, good-natured as they likely wanted to make a good impression, and I led Taehyung by the arm toward a less crowded corner of the ballroom. Far from prying eyes and ears, the two of us stood close as he offered an almost bashful smile. Gone was the cocky, angry guy who had nearly caused a fight with Jungkook only an hour earlier. In his place, a blushing boy who couldn’t so much as look at me straight on.

“So you’re Vante?” I asked.

He chuckled, nodding as he glanced at his polished black shoes. “Yeah,” he said, then snapped his eyes up to meet mine, worried. “I’m sorry I lied! I just panicked because I didn’t want you to think I was creepy.”

“And now?”

He chuckled and looked toward the portraits on the wall. “Well…now there are things that I need to protect and this was the only way I could do it.”

“Protect what?” I asked, surprised by my own stern tone.

He turned wide eyes to me as I crossed my arms. “Well, you and…other things,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna involve you anymore. I’m assuming you saw Jungkook out?”

I nodded, eyes drifting to the tiles below my feet. “Yeah,” I said.

“That must’ve been hard for you.” There was a tender understanding in his voice, like he knew.

“You didn’t make it much easier,” I said, shaking my head. “Seriously, Taehyung? Attacking him out there? What was that about?”

He shook his head. “I thought he was hurting you,” he said, brows knit.

“He wouldn’t do that. And besides, I kept trying to tell you-,”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, once again cutting me off.

I stiffened, holding in my breath for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It’s…fine,” I said with a shrug. I turned to him once more. “What’s not fine, though, is what you did tonight. You didn’t tell me anything. You let me lead him here, blind, and made me a pawn.”

“You weren’t a pawn-,”

“Honestly, is that all it was about tonight?” I asked, scoffing as I leaned away. “You said it was about me getting revenge, but as far as I see it, you’re the only one who benefited.”

“Benefit?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “Do you know how long I’ve been guarding my identity? Do you know how much my privacy means to me?”

I eyed him. “I don’t,” I said, some of the anger leaving my voice. “But the way I see it, you won at my expense. You took away Jungkook’s angle. The only thing he could have possibly had on Vante was the fact that his identity was a secret. Without that, you’ve made yourself untouchable,” I said, shaking my head. “And I was just a means to an end.”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, frustration clear in his face. “Why are you being like this?”

“Don’t like it?” I asked, cocking a brow. “You’re the one who’s always saying I need to advocate for myself.”

“Listen,” he said, calming down slightly as he rested his palms on my shoulders. “I get that you’re hurt. I shouldn’t have lied to you for so long. And I should have consulted you about the plan. But I knew you wouldn’t be able to reckon with your conscience if you knew you’d be ruining his job and getting him in real trouble, so I had to keep it to myself. But don’t say that I’m the only one who benefited,” he said, eyes imploring me. “You proved you’re not someone to mess around with. And you showed him that you were the one playing him.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced away, rubbing beneath my eyes. “I don’t want to play people, Taehyung.”

“What exactly did you think was going to happen tonight?” he asked softly.

I blinked at him, thinking. “I…guess, maybe we’d…call him out or something? Lure him here and…,” I trailed off. Truthfully, I hadn’t even really paused to consider it. I was too intoxicated by the idea of exacting revenge that I never even asked how we’d do it.

Taehyung sighed. “I’m truly sorry,” he said, and I knew he was sincere.

He’s still young and headstrong, maybe a little hotheaded…but I’d trust him with my life.

I sighed and my arms fell to my side along with my defenses. Slowly, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his chest. Stunned at first, it took Taehyung a few moments to return my embrace, but when he did it was warm. He rubbed circles into my back as I struggled not to cry.

“You did really well,” said Taehyung quietly against my hair. “I know it must have been hard to say goodbye to someone you loved a lot.”

I nodded. “Yeah…,” I said quietly. But something was still nagging at me.

Agency.

After all, wasn’t I still just a tool to both of them?

Slowly, I pulled back and smiled gently at him. “Sorry I got mad,” I said.

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I’d be mad too,” he said with a laugh, gently rubbing beneath my right eye with his thumb, likely removing stray makeup.

I sniffled and glanced back toward the heart of the ballroom. The music was still playing softly, and a few drunk guests were swaying around one another. A few of them caught Taehyung’s eye and began moving toward him. Again, I understood that young man’s urge to run. Patting his chest, I slipped past Taehyung, on a beeline for the exit.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Taehyung asked, turning his torso my way.

I chuckled. “Outside,” I said, jerking my head towards the group approaching him. “I don’t think I’m the one they wanna see.”

Before Taehyung could protest, he was once again swarmed and I used his momentary distraction to slip outside, finding myself beneath an awning once I’d left the infamous hallway. I sighed and wandered through the courtyard, past closed shops and dark windows. I paused in an alcove beside the massive SMTown sign that lit up the night sky.

I glanced down toward the building’s entrance and found a figure I vaguely recognized. Jacket-less and tall with spindly limbs, it was the same man from before. I took a few steps toward him, my heels clacking on the ground. I was surprised he didn’t notice me.

Quietly, I approached him with a smile. “K-pop fan?” I asked once I’d reached his side.

He jumped and turned to me with wide eyes, an unlit cigarette hanging between his teeth. “Jesus! Scared me,” he mumbled with a laugh. He raised a lighter to his cigarette and, shielding it with his left hand, struggled to light the end.

I smiled. “Let me,” I said, grabbing for the lighter and angling myself between his cigarette and the breeze that kept snatching his light. Within a few seconds, his cigarette was burning and his eyes were wide, smiling gently.

“You smoke?” he asked, raising his brows.

I laughed. “No,” I said, cracking my knuckles as the two of us stood side-by-side in the empty walkway. If I just took the stairs hidden to the left, I’d be at the subway station, on my way home. “I grew up on a ranch out in the countryside without a lot of modern appliances so I know my way around a lighter.” The man gave me a puzzled look and I chuckled.

He nodded, taking a puff and blowing it out into the night. “Well, at any rate, thanks.”

I shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“Did you get to talk to Taehyung?” he asked.

I sighed, watching my hands as I played with the latch on my clutch. “Kinda.” The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Hell, what kind of conversation was it if he wouldn’t even tell me what he had to protect?

The man laughed and eyed me in the navy darkness. “Don’t sound too pleased.”

“Because I’m not,” I said, sighing. “He’s keeping things from me.”

“Are you two that close?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I dunno. Doesn’t really feel like it,” I said, then glanced at him. “I work at his gallery, but he invited me tonight because of some shady shit my boy-er, ex-boyfriend was doing.”

He raised his brows. “You’re Y/N?” he asked, eyes round like saucers.

I stiffened, leaning away from him slightly. He didn’t give me any creepy vibes before, but now in the dark, looking at me in awe with a lit cigarette dangling in his lips, I wondered if I’d been naive to be so trusting.

“Y-Yes?” I asked.

He laughed and my worries were dispelled. He patted his thigh with a disbelieving scoff. “No fuckin’ way,” he said, taking a drag and eyeing me from above. “Well, isn’t this just serendipity?”

I glanced at him sidelong, brows knit. “Have you been looking for me?”

He shook his head. “Nah, just that Taehyung told me about you and your,” he paused to clear his throat and give me a smirk, “ex-boyfriend.”

“What?” I asked, stunned for a moment. “He’s been telling you?”

“Well, it does involve me,” he said, then furrowed his brow. “Hasn’t he told you about why they’ve been targeting him?”

I raised my brows. “No. Nobody will tell me anything.”

The man nodded and smiled gently, glancing back at his wristwatch with a cringe. “Shit, I’ve gotta get back in there. A host can’t be gone too long,” he said, smirking. He fished around in his pocket for a moment before producing a business card. “If you want someone to tell you what’s really going on, give me a call.”

“Host…?” I began, but before I could say much else, he’d turned on his heel and made it several paces away from me, leaving me with the lingering scent of nicotine and confusion. “Wait!” I called, watching his back retreat.

I was about to go after him, but paused beneath the scant light to read his business card, hoping to call him by name. But as I did, I got the sinking, ominous feeling that I was about to become even more enmeshed in this intricate mess.

Kim Namjoon

CEO and Founder

Ori Technologies

XXXX Yeongdong-daero, Gangnam-gu

Seoul, South Korea

[troominmoll]

"i feel like being bitter and listing off all the things that the 90s show changed about the original stories" as a relative newcomer to moomin-related stuff, i'm curious... what *did* the 90s show change??

*rubs hands because I love being insufferable*  

(Minor disclaimer that this is mostly done in good nature. I understand almost every show that is adapted from existing content is gonna change stuff to suit their story-telling needs. But I am annoyed that some who praise the 90s anime think the new series is bad simply for doing things differently when that show, and nearly every one prior to it, has also put their own spin on things.)

There are 24 episodes of Tanoshii Moomin Ikka (plus a movie) based on the books by Tove Jansson, and I think 11 based on the comic strips she wrote. It would take a long time to cover every single detail in every single episode, so I am mainly going to discuss those that have changes I find more significant, disappointing, personally distressing, or just plain baffling.

(A second disclaimer: I have not read any entire comic stories past the point where Tove stopped working on them. There are some episodes based on strips created exclusively by her brother Lars, The Vampire and Artists in Moominvalley being two examples. I will be skipping those, as well as Bouken Nikki episodes, as I have yet to thoroughly watch each one on account of so few being based on Tove’s work and the headaches they induce lmao. Nitpicks from fans who have read Lars’ strips in full are welcome.)

Now without further ado, let the fussing begin~

01 Spring in Moominvalley: This follows the basic storyline from the first two chapters of Finn Family, but with some notable changes. Snufkin at this point woke up from hibernation along with the rest of the family, Little My had yet to be introduced, and Snork - a child like the rest of the main cast - lived with his sister and the rest of the kids in the Moominhouse. The entire subplot of him being an inventor is merely an invention of the anime.

Moomintroll, in the book, spends a lot more time in transformed body. As he believes his friends are playing a new game when they fail to recognize him, he makes up a story about being “The King of California”. He repeatedly pretends to insult Moomin (himself), and in a touching display of devotion his own friends beat him up to defend his honour.

02 The Magic Hat: Continuing on with a scene based on the later half of chapter 2, we see Moomin rescue Snorkmaiden from the Ant Lion, and along with Snufkin, decide to trap him in the magical hat. In the original story however, Moomin and Snork trap the him. This was rather unprovoked, though Moomin cites a moment from a previous book (read all about it in The Moomins and the Great Flood!) where the Ant Lion allegedly kicked sand in Mamma’s eyes. The gang then takes the hat back inside for more “experiments”, and after making a mess, the adults decide it best to dispose of the hat in the river.

Much like in the story, the hat is soon recovered by Moomin and Snufkin, though a chapter where they hide it in a cave and and end up frightening the Muskrat (who uses it as a shelf for his dentures) is absent. It then continues to the scene where Moominhouse is briefly overgrown with plants. Aside from this happening sooner than it did in the book, and the premature appearance of the Hobgoblin, and the missing Mameluke hunt, and the part where all the children play in the jungle, I think it’s pretty true to that chapter!

03 Discovery of a Wrecked Ship:  First off, I wanna say I’m mostly including this episode on my list just to make it clear that Snufkin’s random sexist comments towards Snorkmaiden and Little My are missing from the book. There is a chapter where him and Moomin go ambling up some rocks, but “the girls” are thankfully absent from this scene.

So then they discover an abandoned boat and the rest of the episode is padded with scenes where they repair it. A charming spectacle, I’m sure, but also absent from the book as the boat they find is already in pristine condition. Shame that Snufkin never got to share his idea for the ship’s name, (it was Lurking Wolf aha ha ha) but that might be for the best.

07 The Suitcase: As seen in episode 06, Thingumy and Bob arrived in Moominvalley. They bring with them stolen goods and and the mother of Grimace, who seeks to recover said goods. Snufkin, once again letting everyone down, decides that a gentle female should speak to them about the contents of their suitcase and soon Snorkmaiden is assigned to the task. Instead the book features a trial sequence, which really helps hammer in the metaphor. Everyone takes part and Sniff acts as prosecutor of behalf of the Groke, who appears and is willing to trade the treasure in exchange for the magical top hat (NOT a pretty scallop).

08 The Hobgoblin’s Magic: Moomin hears that his wondrous wooden woman has washed up on the shores of Moominvalley. But when he rushes to the beach, he finds nothing but sand and disappointment waiting for him. This sends him spiraling into a brief yet no less deep depression which is cured only when Thingumy and Bob share their contents of their secret suitcase. The novel was much more reasonable however. He was saddened by the loss of Snufkin who had skipped the valley for the first time, promising (as we all know) to return on the first day of Spring.

And then there is a fabulous summer party thrown by the family after the recovery of Moominmamma’s handbag. This part is true to the story, at the very least. But the party in the book is much more fantastical, with dancing, music (from America of all places), punch served in darling sea shells, and everyone - right down to the tiniest forest critter - is invited, and gets to make a wish when the magic man arrives. 

09 An Invisible Friend / 10 The Invisible Child: I wouldn’t say that these episodes, featuring the famous character from Tales of Moominvalley, have any life-ruining changes from the original story. But since no episode is complete without a bit of drama, or a pointless cameo from Snufkin, a scene where Stinky traps Ninny with the intention of having her assist in his robberies has been written in. And Little My’s comment regarding the aunt in the English dub, where she states “I hope you told her she hurt Ninny’s feelings!” seems uncharacteristically gentle in comparison to her asking if Too-Ticky “bashed her head in”.

13 The Last Dragon on Earth: As mentioned in the entry above, some episodes will include new subplots or elements for the sake of drama and action. This episode is another example of that, but otherwise it has only minor tweaks. Snufkin states that “the cards” have told him he should leave Moominvalley early if he catches x number of such-and-such a fish, but that storyline is exclusive to this show.

14 Our Neighbor is a Touch Teacher: This episode is based on snippets of the comic strip “Moominmamma’s Maid”, but scraps the storyline containing the titular character from the strip, which is nearly all of it. Instead, it is entirely focused on the Moomin’s new neighbor, Mrs Fillyjonk, a strict and uptight mother of three.

After the Moomin’s welcome party leaves Mrs Fillyjonk fearing for her life, she forbids her children from playing with the Moomin brood. They sneak away anyway. A bunch of death defying stunts happen, courtesy of Stinky. Mrs Fillyjonk plans to leave the valley, but the kids have none of that. This is almost an original story, save for the existence of a party.

16 A Close Encounter with Aliens: Once again we have an episode based on the comics. It follows the basic plotline of the Moomins caring for a stranded Martian child.  But a lot of wackiness was cut for time, including invisible Moomins pranking valley residents, a flying fire brigade, and Moomin shrinking down with Mamma, who later bites a Fillyjonk child. Time used for an inserted chase scene with Stinky (one of many across the tv series) feels could’ve been better spent on some of the fun stuff mentioned in my previous sentence.

17 A Change of Air: And yet another comic-based episode, this one taken from “Moomin and Family Life”, which happens to be my personal favourite comic so this analysis may sound bitterer than others. The episode cuts the beginning of the strip, where we see a lonely parent-less Moomin contemplate suicide before being reunited with his long lost Moominmamma and Moominpappa. The comic is a completely different entity from the books and adjustments must be made, so this decision is understandable. But the following choice? Less so.

The episode instead starts with Pappa complaining that nothing exciting ever happens, and I won’t remind him of the events from episode 16 because everyone brings that up. Stinky overhears plans of doing something to entertain him, and during the night makes a set of giant footprints leading to the sea. Whereas in the comic strip, the “giant” prints are innocently left by Snufkin who was wearing boot too big for he gotdamn feet. He nearly perishes for this grave mistake.

Strips where Moominmamma and Moominpappa hang out in a cave, Moomin sheds a few tears tears, and Snufkin offers some half hearted words of comfort provide a basis for following scenes in the episode. But antics with Moomin and friends trying to foil Aunt Jane, who angrily travelled to the Moominhouse after being pranked by Pappa, are sadly missing. 

24 Hurry Up Snufkin: The part where Snufkin meets and later names the forest creature Teetywoo, is based on the short story “The Spring Tune”. There are many potential gripes one can have about such a brief scene.

A lot of the dialogue between the two characters reflects what is said in the short story, but what the episode sorely lacks are Snufkin’s feelings. Gone are his shouts and snaps, his grumpiness about being disturbed, his regret when he lashes out, his desperation to find Teetywoo again. His famous line “I’ll come when it suits me” is “cried violently”, making me wonder how it ever became an inspirational quote (oh wait I know). In favour of portraying Snufkin as cool and chill, the anime sometimes ends up making him look more like an emotionless bump on a log.

The plotline of Snufkin being late to return because he is trying to compose a new song has been cut, on account of either his lack of talent or lack of music budgeting.

25 The Lighthouse / 26 The Day the Lighthouse Lit Up: These episodes actually combine elements of two different stories: the comic strip “Moomin and the Sea”, and the similarly titled novel “Moominpappa at Sea”. Lacking most of the typical shenanigans from the strips, or bleak themes from the book, these episodes feel more like a slightly above-average family outing.

The episodes seems to lean more towards the comic, where Moominpappa takes on the job of lighthouse keeper as inspiration for his writing, and Moomin is terrorised by an equally frightened ghost. Too-Ticky unfortunately is missing from the episodes, alone with the scenes where she shares some spooky suggestions with the spectre, and where Snorkmaiden fakes her own drowning to help Moomin feel brave. 

Borrowing from the books, we meet both the former lighthouse keeper and a little boy named Toft, who apparently got very lost on his way to auditions for a “Moominvalley in November” episode. The episode scraps the element from the book of Moominpappa making the entire family miserable because he has some deluded fantasy about protecting and providing for them on his own, as well as a heart wrenching subplot involving the Groke, which I will not spoil for those considering reading it. But know this: there will be tears. 

28 The Floating Theatre / 29 The Lost Children / 30 Midsummer: This three-parter is based on “Moominsummer Madness”, which is kind of an interesting book. Taking place smack dab in the middle of the series, we see it move away from the more lighthearted tones of the early stories, and begin the shift towards the less fantastical and more serious themes of the later books. But it isn’t quite there yet. And being written around the time Tove still worked on the comic series, some parts of the book would not seem out of place if drawn in her strips.

The most noticeably difference between the original story and anime episodes is the change of the cast. With the number of characters and subplots happening at once in the book, it was inevitable that some unlucky sod would get scrapped from the story - three sods in fact, by the names of Mymble, Misabel, and Whomper. Sniff is inserted into the story, and references to Mr Fillyjonk, the stage manager and Emma’s late husband, are removed. 

Snufkin and My’s subplot is changed and cut quite short, beginning with the element of the two not knowing each other. His assault on the park keeper seems to be done for the sake of rescuing the children more or less imprisoned in the park, but book Snufkin simply took joy in breaking the law. The episode lacks great scenes of him trying to take care of the 24 little children; doing things like making silly noises, threatening to drown himself, and exposing them to second hand smoke. 

With a small handful of characters missing, the plot of the play Moominpappa writes greatly differs from the book. And say goodbye to the ending chapter, where the reunited Moomin family flees the police and gets chased all the way back to Moominvalley. 

45 Moomin Builds a House: This episode is based on the comic of the same title. Although it cuts the story quite short, what is left in is relatively close to the original. Except for the insertion of Snufkin, but I am not offended because that adorable laugh made his appearance worthwhile.

59, 63, 68 Adventures of Moominpappa: And here we get to the episodes based on “The Exploits of Moominpappa”. The first few changes I’d like to point out are a little less notable. As Mrs Fillyjonk was already more established in the show, the Hemulen aunt becomes a Fillyjonk. Edward is a silent character, the Nibling child that Pappa and co look after is absent, and everyone gets real ugly colour palettes. 

Next, as you may know, the original books don’t really follow a solid timeline and canon changes in between stories. So in an attempt to make more sense, the young Mymble that Moomin meets is Little My’s mother, rather than her sister. But strangely, Moominpappa’s other friends are no longer the parents of Sniff and Snufkin. Why those two were still so enraptured by listening to his story is unclear.

Comet in Moominland: Finishing off the list is a movie based on the story of the same name. Being the first in what is considered the “main” book series, there are bound to be differences in how characters are written. But there is no difference here more worth talking about than Snufkin.

As I’ve already mentioned before, he is portrayed in the anime as more relaxed. He is the older and most mature member of Moomin’s group of friends, and tends to be reserved in expressing his emotions. For the sake of presenting Snufkin as a responsible figure, he never teaches the gang his favourite game: rolling boulders down cliffs, an activity which almost results in multiple casualties. We never hear his story about disrespecting a police officer, and his subsequent prison break.

But Snufkin in the earlier books is very much a child like the rest of the main cast. He is playful and talkative, being described as bringing “gaiety” to their adventure, and is always thrilling his friends with epic tales from his travels. He is not shy about expressing himself, he is shown to have some sadness about having no parents and cries his wee heart out upon sees the dried up ocean.

Other changes may seem more innocuous by comparison, snipping a party scene and river raft ride, and including Little My. But with the lack of a noticeable personality for a key character, and some of the action scenes, much of the movie just feels like a boring hike home.

~

In short, yeah. As you can see I’m pretty passionate on this subject, especially when it comes to Snufkin’s characterisation. Anyone who wishes to discourse Moomins with me is welcome.  

[allivegottodoislove]

I Love You Madly

hey folks! sorry about the like, six week break. school, once again, got crazy and hectic. i’m here with an update, granted it isn’t the song remains the same, but i’ve really been feeling the deaky love lately, so i wanted to finish up the second chapter!

also to serve as a small sort of update, unless my life literally falls about, i promise to have the next chapter of tsrts up next friday! that being said, it’s the last ‘planned’ chapter i have for the story (it’s not the end of the story by any means though!) so i might work on a few other things while i try to figure out how and what i wanna do next (i have a TON of ideas, i just gotta figure out how to get there!) that being said, i’m also updating the blog a little bit. i’ve started writing summaries for each individual chapter of every story, and i’m gonna start writing up descriptions of other stories i have in the works so keep an eye out for that! 

as always, any feedback is well appreciated! i’d love to take ideas/requests for anything you guys might really want to read!

and without further delay, the second chapter of i love you madly! it’s a bit long, and it gets a bit nsfw at the end!

     The drive into the countryside was pleasant. For the most part, they were completely silent. They felt no need to talk at the moment. All the excitement from the wedding and the people that had surrounded them had been just too much. They needed their time to recharge. There was no better way than in each other's company, though.

     The car ride would last for just a little over an hour. For their honeymoon, they had opted for a little cottage out in the countryside. All Ava had wanted was to be away from all the people, away from all the noise. John couldn't have agreed faster.

     Freddie, naturally, had pushed for something bigger. Nothing would but the best and the grandest would be enough for his friends. He practically had planned the whole thing out. Ava had caved rather quickly before just suggesting they scrap the whole idea. After all, they still had two children to care for.

     John had refused to budge from where he was. It was to be their honeymoon; it would be what they wanted to do. John had pushed, then, for Ava to allow it. In his own mind, it wouldn't be right at all to have a marriage without their own private celebrations.

     Eliza had volunteered to watch the children when she had heard of the dilemma. Ava had been hesitant to yes to that. It wasn't like she loved Eliza. Ava absolutely adored the other woman. She really did. Leaving her two children behind in the Taylor household scared the crap out of her. Would she be getting the kids she left behind back?

     Her fears took a mental backseat as she looked out the window. Ava had always loved the countryside. Returning to it always felt like she was returning home. The wilderness in front of her was particularly breathtaking. John had done all the planning for the honeymoon; Ava understood why now.

     They needed this break from reality, she was quickly realizing. How tired she had felt the last few months was finally catching up to her. Neither of them had time to unwind. They never seemed to. Between the band and the kids, they couldn't afford it. With the stress of the wedding on top of all that? Ava was now more than excited for a small break from her crazy life.

     This was to be their paradise, she realized. Only John could have known exactly what she, what they would need. John barked the car and smiled at her before getting out to open the door for her.

     "Why, thank you," she said with a grin. John just chuckled before he opened the trunk to grab their luggage.

     "Wait here for me, okay?" He said as he disappeared into the cottage with his hands filled of luggage. They didn't have the most in the world. It just two weeks. Ava and John did their best to try and pack lightly, and had gotten relatively good at it. That didn't mean it wasn't too much for a single man to carry in.

     "John, darling," Ava started when he returned for the rest, "let me help you."

     "Absolutely not, this is a man's work," he said. There was a teasing smile on his face. Ava still felt her blood boil just a tad.

     "now, John Deacon, you know absolutely better than that. You know I'm more than-"

     "And Mrs. Ava Deacon, you're pregnant. No heaving lifting for my beautiful, blushing bride," he said. Her face flushed a little red. With the three remaining suitcases in his hand, he kissed her cheek and walked into the cottage.

     Ava knew better than to push him now. "Thank you darling," he said with a smile once he was back by her side. There were some things that just weren't arguing over, especially with him. It wasn't often she wanted to call him a stubborn hothead. Typically, she would reserve that for Brian. Sometimes, John's moods could topple anything Brian had ever thrown at her.

     "C'mon, let me show you to the garden." John grabbed her hand as they walked. "It's simply stunning. Nothing compared to you, but still," he said. She swatted at his shoulder lightly, giggling as she did so.

     What he brought her to was hardly a garden. That title didn't do it enough justice. The immediate ground around them seem to just be one endless field. Far off in the distance seemed to be an unending forest.

     "We'll have to go exploring a bit more tomorrow," he said. Ava just nodded. For all these to be theirs for the next two weeks? Had she died and gone to heaven?

     For the next few moments, they walked in the backyard silently. Silence filled a lot of their time. That was, when their two children didn't need their immediate help on something dire. John guided her to a small hill, just off to the side, with a tree in the center of it.

     Off on the horizon, the sun was just beginning to really set. The world felt at peace around them. It had stopped spinning; at least, it had stopped spinning for the both of them. Everything they wanted in their lives was laid out in front of them. They intended to enjoy it, thoroughly, or it would kill them.

     John sat on the edge of the hill with a smile. "Come, sit down with me a while. When was the last time we managed to watch the sun set in peace?" He asked with a knowing smirk.

     "Well, if you just give a moment to think about that," she said. He put her finger to her lips and tapped it a few times. "If my memory serves me right, which it might not, I do believe it was the night you proposed to me," she said. Ava began to sit down next to him. Before she knew it, there were hands pulling her into John's lap.

     "You devil!" She teased. His arms wrapped around her and he placed his hands atop her belly.

     "I sure hope this is okay now. I don't think Roger's out there, lurking in the trees, to catch us in such a compromising position." Ava couldn't help but laugh at what he said.

     "No one around for miles to catch us, even the press," he continued to tease. Ava just leaned back as she leaned her had back against him. Her hands moved to rest on top of his. It just felt right. Things were falling into place. The universe had aligned to create the perfect moment.

     "Of course it's fine darling," she said. "I just didn't want them to know before the honeymoon, that's all. You know how Eliza can get," she said with a roll of her eyes.

     "I'm afraid I haven't an idea of what you mean. I've never seen Eliza have a break down because you went pee for too long," he laughed.

     "Oh shush, she does her best." Ava swatted his hand lightly. "They never would have let us gone on it. Or, they would have demanded to come, to watch over us like we're children." She rolled her eyes.

     "Again, I think we're safe now. I doubt they've stalked out this far. Fred isn't that mad," he laughed. "Besides, she would have no reason to worry about your pregnancy, you've done it before."

     Following his line of logic, John was right, in theory. Eliza did only fuss over her when it was something knew. Like, the peeing incident, Ava had let it sleep that she had almost been kidnapped on the tube once. But, John didn't know the whole truth of her first pregnancy.

     Ava, had one point, had made the mistake of telling Eliza how awful her first pregnancy had been. From that moment on, her friend had always sworn she would be right by her side, if she ever chose to have another child. This was all before John. Eliza was never one to back down from her word.

     "Of course, she would have no reason to worry," she said with a soft smile. A lie, a harmless one. She wasn't ready to recount her first pregnancy. Not to John, not yet. It was one of the few secrets she had ever kept from him. Her pregnancy had been physically brutal. Toward the end, even the doctors thought she might die.

     Telling him that now would only worry him. Besides, she was younger than. Her body hadn't been ready to carry a child to term; she'd only been a teenager. That was behind her. Her ex, Cael's father, certainly hadn't helped with the situation.

     It didn't feel good to hide anything from John. Whenever she did, she felt a knot in her stomach until it came out. The only reason Eliza knew was she had gotten plastered one night and spilled her beans. That wasn't an option now, and she would have to tell him at some point. It would come up in the doctor's appointments.

     "This is beautiful," she said. It was a way to force herself out of her thoughts. Force herself into the situation with John. Over the years, she had gotten better at it. Allowing herself to wallow wouldn't get her anywhere. It had never in the past. It would only hurt her recovery.

    The sky was a vibrant shade of red. If she didn't know better, she would say it was the end of the world. But it was too peaceful for that. She still felt too worried about what she would have to tell John for the world to end.

    Telling John she was pregnant had been anxiety inducing enough. She knew he wouldn't react like Cael's father had, but… That fear would always hang over her. John didn't understand what was there; all John knew was that something was there.

    When she turned to kiss him, she couldn't help but notice the glow painted on his face. His smile was unlike anything else. It was like this was his firstborn. Like he had never ever gone through this and didn't know what laid ahead. Sure, Ava loved her son and would endure it all again to keep him in her life. But, it hadn't been a pretty process to get to.

    "What's get you so happy, Mister? First kid and all?" She asked. John just chuckled at that. "Surely you've seen the disaster I'm to become! With the pregnancy and the morning sickness and the swollen ankles and the whole process of childbirth. It's a lovely nine-month process."

    John placed a kiss to the top of her head. "I have seen the mess," he said with a laugh. "But not with you. Nothing with you could ever be anything but a lovable mess."

    "Oh just you wait-"

    "No, it'll be different, for both of us Ava. You're never going to be a mess. I've never done it with someone I still love, someone I'm madly in love with, and you've never done it in love at all," he explained.

    Ava felt the tears threatening to fill her eyes. John always had a way of making her cry. She pushed those to the back and just cocked her head in response. John knew little about Cael's father. It wasn't a topic she talked about. John was more than aware of that. Veronica surely hadn't been that bad?

    "By the time Robert came to be, I had fallen out of it with Veronica," he explained softly. "I loved her; she's the mother of my first child so I'll always love her in a way, just not…" He trailed off. It was clear he didn't know how to verbalize his complex feelings.

    Ava would never make John speak if he couldn't find the words, just as he wouldn't with her. It was rare that John couldn't find the right words. The verbal lashings he could give his bandmates were proof enough of that. Sometimes, she swore he made up new words to fit his needs. "I know," she said softly. She leaned up to place a kiss to the tip of his nose.

    The now married couple was close, extremely close. At times, they were more like peas in a pod than humans. They usually understood what the other man. Occasionally, they would need a few things clarified. But, Ava understood what John was getting at. She knew that once you loved someone, you never could fall out of it. It just changed; the love shifted to something else.

    "I can't wait to go through this with you," he said with a smile.

    "And I with you," she said.

    "And I can't wait to meet the newest member of the Deacon family." John placed a kiss on her neck and Ava simply giggled. She leaned her head back against his chest and looked up.

    "You're already such a good father, I can't wait to watch it up close from the beginning," she said. Of course, Ava had been around to see the birth of his first child. It had been a little heartbreaking. They'd met before Robert's birth, actually. Ava had been a childhood friend of Brian.

    That was her whole introduction to this crazy world, she realized. Brian. As much as she hated to thank him, she knew she would have to, for all of these. They'd met when Ava was just five, and Brian fourteen. It was more like a sibling relationship at first. Brian had always wanted a younger sister, and Ava spent much of her own childhood alone. As they had both gotten older, that dynamic at stayed for the most part.

    A few years back now, after Queen had already gotten huge, Ava had the luck of running into him on one of his visits home. They had reconnected instantly. The relationship they had once had, never seemed to have fully left either person. He had brought her to rehearsal, and the rest had been history.

    "I hope the baby has your eyes," she said.

    "Oh, now don't say that. You've got the prettier eyes of the two of us. And hopefully they inherit your nose, not this old thing I've got," he said with a smile.

    "John!" She said with a roll of her eyes. "Your eyes, your nose. You're the prettier of the two of us," she said with a smirk.

    "Absolutely not. Have you seen me? I look like a wet dog that's been left outside too long if I don't properly maintain myself," he teased. Ava knew he wasn't serious. Perhaps, at the beginning of their relationship, John would have meant it. Neither of them had the best confidence. But as time had gone, John had started to be more gentle with himself.

    "Now Mister, you're getting into dangerous-"

    "Territory, I know," he laughed. "Your nose, but my eyes? Does that compromise work?" Ava laughed, but nodded.

    "I think poor Robert already has the curse of my nose, or the starts of it," he laughed.

    When Ava had learned that not only did John have a girlfriend, but that she was pregnant, Ava had been devastated. If only she could go back in time. It would be nice to tell her past self that one day, she would be like a mother to that little boy.

    But, that mattered not now. John was hers and she was his, fully. It was meant to be. At least, that was how it had already felt. They were meant to be, and simply always would be.

    "I love you," she whispered softly.

    "I love you too," he said. Silence surrounded them again, at least for a few moments more. It was truly their happiness. Around each other, they never found it awkward. Eventually, though, John would break the silence. He usually would cave before her.

    "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

    "A girl, I think. I'm going to love them no matter what, don't get me wrong on that!" She spoke with a giggle. "But I think a girl would be nice. A change of pace. We already have the two boys." She glanced up at him. "And between you and our boys and the boys in the band, I already feel like I manage a soccer team," she laughed.

    "Good luck getting Fred to play soccer," he laughed. To that, she couldn't help but laugh as well and ruffle his hair with her hand.

    Gone were the long chocolate locks that used to rival her own. She had loved John's hair so much. But, Ava had gotten used to the new haircut, and had eventually grown to like it. The look suited him as he got older.

    "What do you want?" She asked.

    "Whatever you give me honey. I'm happy with whatever and whomever," he said with a grin. She laughed and kissed him before turning back to the sky and tucking her head under his chin.

    The sun was setting, truly now. It was a vibrant shade of red. The smile on her face only grew as she leaned further back into John. Her eyes closed and she breathed deeply. Never would she forget this moment. It would be impossible to. That was something she was sure of.

    "We should head in before it gets too dark to see," John said with a chuckle.

    Ava just nodded as she stood and wiped away any grass on her legs. Once John was standing, he picked Ava up and began to carry her, bridal style, to the little cottage. All Ava could do was giggle and swat at his chest playfully.

    "You beast, let me down," she teased.

    "I do believe I have a few doors I have to carry you through, no? Isn't that the tradition?" He asked as he continued to walk.

    "I think you've only got the one, Mister! We don't own this place, you big goof. You've got two weeks to worry about that tradition." She rolled her eyes as she spoke.  

    A grin, once the words were out of her mouth, spread on John's face. "You didn't!" She shouted.

    "I did, a wedding fit from me to you. I know you hate living in the city. And, it got Freddie off my back about having an extravagant honeymoon," he laughed.

    Ava had never said anything specific about hating the city. Was it that obvious? Or, had John gotten it from her constant ramblings of her childhood? When it wasn't spent with Brian, it was spent up in the Welsh countryside. She missed it so.

    "This is our escape," John said.

    "Oh John, my love, you really didn't have to," she said. She leaned up to kiss him. "God, I love you so much. I don't know what I ever did to deserve you."

    "God is hardly the person to love for this," he teased. His body angled her as they walked through the door to prevent her from hitting the door frame.

    They didn't bother with the downstairs. It could be explored later. Not that it looked like there would be much to explore. It wasn't huge, but they didn't need the world here. Ava also couldn't blame John for heading straight upstairs.

    "There's two other bedrooms, for the kids or any guests we want." John spoke as he laid her down on the bed.

    Ava didn't let John get away from her. The moment she could, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him down on top of her.

    "You're all mine for now, though," she said with a grin.

    He pressed his lips to Ava's. There were those fireworks when they touched that she hadn't felt since their first kiss. Sparks flew and Ava could feel butterflies in her stomach.

    John paused for a moment, clearly unsure about something. "Can we? With the baby and all?" He mumbled gently. Ava couldn't help the chuckle that left her mouth. It was such a sweet question.

    "Well, I certainly can't get more pregnant," she teased. "But yes, yes of course we can," she said with a grin.

    It didn't take long for John's kisses to begin to trail down Ava's neck. For him, it never too much time to want to get further. Not that Ava took any longer. There was something so calming, so grounding about him. She never felt skittish. He was her grounding rock, and made her want to adventure just a little.

    As his lips moved down her body, he began to unbutton and remove her shirt. Ava gasped as she felt the cold air hit her. For a moment, John paused to look up at her.

    "The most beautiful sight I've ever been blessed with to be mine," he said. Ava just rolled her eyes at that.

    His lips returned to her skin, sucking a few red marks into her skin. Ava gasped and her hips began to roll up against John. "Darling dear, please," she mumbled. Her hips didn't still as she tried to get at what she wanted. They hadn't had the time in weeks, and it was all catching up to her now.

    "Please?" She mumbled. This time, John looked up at her, for just a moment. It might not have taken much to get going, but the going was never quick.

     John liked to call himself a romantic when it came to their sex life. He was slow and loving. At times, Ava adored it. Now as not one of those times. She just wanted her husband. But, that would hardly influence John's desires. His favorite thing to do was to tease her and draw things out as long as he possible could.

    It seemed as if now would be one of those times. No doubt he would give into her easily. Her restless energy wanted to get on with things. His restless energy, no doubt, would draw things out. He always won.

    "Just gotta be gentle." He spoke after Ava let out another groan. "wouldn't want to hurt you, or anyone else," he said. He placed a kiss to her stomach with a smile.

    Ava only responded by spreading her legs, and John returned to his trail of kisses down her body. As he went, he pulled off her pants, and then her underwear. Kisses were peppered all over her body. Some of those kisses bordered on biting, but they were never placed where she wanted them most.

    "Jooooohn," she whined softly. "I need you."

    In response, he only paused to look up at her and chuckled. "What darling? Is there something specific you need? Something you fancy?" A smirked painted his face.

    "Yeah, I'd fancy you," she mumbled. Her hips never slowed their roll as she spoke.

    "I'm right here my darling." He accentuated every word with a kiss to her thighs and then looked back up at her. "What more could you need?" Ava wished she had the power to wipe the shit eating grin off his face.

    A few more whines left her mouth before John gave into what she wanted. His thumb pressed against her clit as he drew small shapes over it. "Is this what you wanted, my darling blushing bride? Could you not find the words for this?"

    Ava, in response, could only moan gently. It wasn't anywhere near what she wanted. It was a step in the right direction. But she knew that asking for more right now wouldn't get her anywhere. In fact, it could just push her further from it.

    They stayed like that for some time, John drawing soft moans from Ava with a grin. John eventually pushed a finger inside her and kissed whatever skin he could reach. Ava gasped and reached down to grab his free hand.

    John looked up at her and Ava could see he was getting close. As much as John loved playing games, he was still human. There were times he couldn't wait.

    The look on John's face was one of pure need. Sometimes, Ava liked to think she was the only one who knew it on his face. Or, at least she was the only one who understood it. As much as John loved to tease, he still had his limits. Sweet relief was coming.

    "Darling?" He asked gently. Ava just nodded her head. Her now husband wasted no time in crawling back up the bed. "Now," he began as he tossed his shirt off. "Would you so mind if…?" He mumbled as he undid his zipper.

    Ava didn't respond verbally. Instead, she just reached up and undid his zipper for him. "If you don't," she said. Murder was in her eyes. John knew as much. His pants were kicked to the side as he placed a kiss to her lips.

    "I love you," he whispered. For a second, Ava thought he might continue with his games. He paused, his cock pressed at her entrance. A few seconds more, and he was pushing in. Ava, for the moment, could only gasp and wrap her legs around his waist.

    "I love you too," she mumbled once her words returned. They, of course, would not stay for long.

[hahanoiwont]

Can you write some dragon Angus?

I sure fuckin’ can, buddy! Here’s some breakfast dragon Angus for the soul.

If anyone else wants to make a request, feel free to drop by my inbox!

Angus really likes working the the Bureau of Balance. They do a lot of really great things, like saving the world and trying at least moderately hard not to destroy entire cities (he remembers Phandolin now, but the Reclaimers still have nothing on his more violent, distant relatives). The moon was, of course, no icy mountain, but it was difficult for strangers to get to and much higher in the sky than Angus would be able to get a lair to otherwise.

Best of all, though, his lair was a veritable treasure trove, better than he had ever been able to collect before. He may not have an entire ancient palace like his grandfather (well, entire except for the silverware he’d been sent to fetch), but he had the current history of Faerun running beneath his wings. Angus is not a particularly fearsome dragon, but his hoard is something worth bragging about. And better than that, each part of it continues to come back to him.

He worries, of course, when the Reclaimers go off to retrieve relics. The smaller races are infinitely fragile and fierce as they are, they can’t protect themselves from everything. But each time, they come back hale and hearty with stories to be told and Angus can be a part of it! He’s right there over the stones of farspeech, helping them solve puzzles and dodge traps and making goofs with them. But his favorite part is what comes after.

Once the Reclaimers come back from Refuge, Angus is proud to show off the magic he’s been practicing. It comes easier to him than it would to the smaller folk, and Taako seems pleased, if exhausted by his date with death. But best of all, Taako makes so much food.

It’s the day after they’ve gotten back and Angus wakes up to a loud knock on the door and Taako’s voice saying, “Yo, Agnes, open up or I’m blowing your door up!”

Angus does very much enjoy having a door sectioning off his bedroom from the rest of his home, so he quickly rushes to let Taako in, still in his pajamas but thankfully also still in his humanoid form. Taako leans dramatically on the door frame, because Taako is a ridiculous elf.

“Thank the gods, I nearly died waiting there. You took forever, Ango, that could’ve been my whole lifetime. Six hundred years for you to open the door!” he whined, clutching his chest. Angus supposes dragons are wont to lose track of time for a couple decades, but he’s pretty sure Taako was waiting for a maximum of fifteen seconds.

“What can I help you with, sir?” he chirps, ready to start the day. Maybe a new magic lesson? Or a fun puzzle that needs solving?

What Taako’s got planned is even better, though.

“Gonna need a hand in the kitchen, little man,” he says. “Somethin’s up with your eyes, fix that shit first. Meet me in the suite in ten or I’m starting without you!”

And just like that he whirlwinds right back out, umbrella swaying jauntily. Angus rushes to the bathroom and sure enough, his eyes are a brighter silver than is normally achievable. He hastily reapplies his transformation and rushes to the Reclaimers’ suite with eight minutes to spare.

When he gets there, Taako is just arriving, and he groans to see Angus.

“The fuck, it is way too early to be this fast,” he greets, ruffling Angus’s hair. He doesn’t mention the eye thing even though to Angus’s knowledge, most humanoids don’t have changing eye colors, and certainly not structures. He does start banging around Magnus’s pots and pans, though.

“Fuckin’--ugh, what kind of shit is--what I wouldn’t give for a cast-iron pan, swear to god--have to do everything myself,” he mutters, setting a couple of tins and pans he hates the least on the table.

“What are we doing today, sir? Are we making something?” Angus asks, because he’s not gonna mention anything if Taako isn’t. Maybe later, when he’s had a chance to forget it a bit, assume it was a trick of the light.

“Yeah, we’re making a bomb-ass brunch is what we’re doing. Gonna feed those goobers, see if we can lure some others in with the smell,” Taako says absently, holding a pan in both hands and looking hard at it. It begins to turn black where he’s touching it, slowly.

“Sir? I thought you didn’t cook for people you want to not die?” Angus asks, because he would really like to know if Taako’s decided to assassinate the whole Bureau campus before it happens.

“Nah, turns out that whole thing was totally not my fault. Big misunderstanding. HR thing,” he mumbles. “‘sides, you guys are all about human cuisine, right? Thought you’d like to try making some.”

Angus looks intently at Taako, who looks intently at the pan he’s transmuting. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s said anything out of the ordinary, but...silver dragons are well-known for enjoying human and elven feasts. Several of Angus’s relatives will create special forms with elaborate backstories in order to go to a good enough party. Angus investigates.

“You guys?” he asks. Taako still isn’t paying him much attention, though he’s almost done with the pan.

“Yeah, you know,” he says vaguely. “Had a friend like you once. Good year.”

Is it possible that Taako had befriended a dragon before? Has he seen through Angus’s disguise already?

“Sir? What do you mean?” Angus presses. If Taako tells the Director...

Taako finishes with the pan and looks up. “Huh? Sorry, what was I saying?” he asks. He’s got that look on his face that he does sometimes, when he wanders off in the middle of a conversation or asks for someone who isn’t there. An expression very similar to the one he’d gotten after blowing Angus’s macaroons to pieces and carving three letters into the wall.

Was ‘Lup’ a dragon?

Angus whips out his notebook and writes knows dragon? for one year? Lup/forgot??? before Taako slaps it out of his hands.

“Hey, didn’t bring you here to be my shrink, little man. Why don’t you whip up a mage hand and start stirrin’, we’re on pancakes today.” Taako himself starts portioning out ingredients and intermittently hurling them at Angus, who frantically summons a mage hand to help guide them to a bowl.

“Sir, I think this would work better if you stopped throwing things!” he protests, but Taako laughs at him.

“Hell no, little dude, you gotta have fun with it! That’s what partner cooking is all about!” he chortles, and then throws an egg. Gently, but he still is throwing an egg and Angus’s face. He barely catches it. “Gimme some fire!”

And, well. Angus is not a creature of chaos, not like elves in general and Taako in particular are, but it’s very hard not to have a good time when someone like an older brother is guiding you through the delicacies of human cooking and making dumb jokes on the way. He explains each part of the recipe in his offhanded way, never assuming that Angus will know about all the various utensils used by little folk for food preparation, but not quite crossing the line into patronizing without a good goof to make up for it. And when Magnus comes out of his room, looking vague and forgetful, the two of them keep an eye on him while he enthusiastically stirs pancake mix (Taako insists he’s getting it gluey and gross, but Angus thinks he’s probably fussing), and it’s a good morning.

Yeah, the Bureau makes for a great hoard, but Angus think maybe the greatest treasure was love all along.

[taeminuet]

Heartbeat (20/?)

Title: Heartbeat Fandom: SHINee Pairings: Jongtae; Minkey; OnKai Chapter Wordcount: 3k Overall Rating: R (Some chapters will be NC-17; these will be marked.) Chapter Warnings: mental illness, mentions of past abuse, misuse of therapy methods, triggering, Summary: In which not every problem needs to be fixed and not every person needs to be saved; sometimes you just need support.

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1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 7.5 , 8 , 9 , 10 , 11 , 12 , 13 , 14 , 15 , 16 , 17 , 18 , 19

Chapter 20: Taemin

“Did I wake you up?”

Jongin sounds half-awake at best, his mouth not opening fully on his words, and the sound of rustling blankets clear as he shifts around. There’s a faint sound of something else in the background, and Taemin struggles not to tear up at the sound of Jjanggu yapping on the other end. He’s struck with a sense of homesickness so strong it actually aches for a moment, and he closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and tries to remember that it’s better this way, safer this way.

“Minnie,” Jongin sighs and oh, there’s that pang again, except that he can remember Jongin’s voice confirming some of his worst nightmares -- Your dad tried to call me. -- like Jongin hasn’t been such a constant presence in his life that Taemin’s dad having any access to Jongin at all isn’t reason enough to be petrified.

“Hey,” Taemin says weakly.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin asks, before Taemin can even get anything else out. “Are you okay? How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Taemin says, and he can’t help but feel simultaneously bad about and pleased by the clear worry in Jongin’s voice. “Really, I’m… I’m okay.”

And that was true, Taemin thought, letting his thoughts wander back to Jonghyun.

“That’s good,” Jongin says. “I was just worried after… you know…”

And Taemin does, but he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Not right now. “Jongin, I’m okay, I promise. I’m not even calling about me. I’m… well…”

He pauses for a moment, trying to think of the best way to phrase this. Jongin is sweet, but he’s so hyperfocused that anything else escaped his attention so easily. That feels mean to say though, like he doesn’t care enough about Onew to pay attention to him. It’s probably relatively true, but still, not the best thing to point out to anyone involved.

On the other end of the line, he hears Jongin shift a little and ask, “Tae?”

Taemin doesn’t know how long that pause had been but clearly more than enough to concern Jongin, which was sad. Jongin was more than use to Taemin losing his train of thought mid-sentence. It came with the territory of sleep deprivation, honestly.

“Sorry,” Taemin says. “Yeah. Just… did you talk to Onew yesterday at all? After I went to my room?”

There’s silence for a moment. “Shit. Yeah, I did. I told him I’d be right back and then I just bailed. I was so worried about you that I completely forgot. Is something the matter?”

“He’s… sensitive,” Taemin says tactfully, worrying his lip. That’s an understatement, from what he’s seen, from what Jinki hinted. “He feels like he did something wrong or let you down or… well, I’m sure I don’t have to explain all the psychology stuff to you.”

“Shit,” Jongin says again. “I didn’t think--”

“Don’t freak out, okay? You’re fine. Just… can you come see me again today? Maybe talk to him a little; apologize and let him know he didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I was planning on coming anyways, seeing how you were after… But I’ll talk to Onew too. Tell him I’m sorry and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” Taemin says, letting himself smile softly. “Thanks, Jongin.”

“Of course, Tae,” Jongin says, and there’s another rustle of noise and then a soft click. Taemin hangs up the phone, smiling awkwardly at the lady at the front desk. Having someone watching him call out is uncomfortable to say the least, but it’s nice to know that nobody can call him that easily -- Your dad tried to call me.

Taemin shudders and hurries back to the cafeteria. Jonghyun is sitting again, talking lazily with Key, and there’s an open seat beside him, between him and Onew. Taemin takes it gratefully, immediately tugging his plate of food towards him. He’s so hungry, god. Normally he doesn’t get this hungry, but he also normally can place how many hours ago his last meal was.

“He’ll be here later,” Taemin says, stuffing food into his mouth. “After group, probably. Don’t worry too much. He said he’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

And that’s a lie, but for the nervous, hopeful smile that blooms across Onew’s face, it’s worth it.

“I can’t believe you’re fussing over him,” Jonghyun says, a little grumpily. “Seriously, you’re way out of his league, Onew.”

Onew squeaks. “That’s not-- I don’t--” he stutters, cheeks pink.

Key snorts. “Jonghyun seriously? Are you jealous?”

“No?” Jonghyun says. “I just think he’s-- listen, you haven’t even met the guy? What are you hopping to his defense for?”

“I just asked a question,” Key says mildly, a laugh in his voice. “Besides, if anyone here is going to get visitors, might as well be Taemin.”

“Might as well?” Taemin asks, frowning. “What does that--?”

“Me and Onew are on the no-fly list on visitors, mostly. And Minho’s parents show up… well…”

Key stalls, looking over at Minho, who takes a deep breath and then says, “There’s not a point if I won’t remember them visiting, right?”

Key’s mouth twists unhappily. “Something like that. Still a dick move, though. And Jonghyun…”

Jonghyun scowls at him. “Yeah, yeah. We all know how I feel about visitors day.”

And Taemin doesn’t, but it’s not hard to figure out from the look on Jonghyun’s face. He doesn’t want to push either, not after what they’d talked about, but he touches Jonghyun’s arm gently and raises an eyebrow, hoping for Jonghyun to tell.

After a moment, Jonghyun sighs. “My visitors list sucks dick and I’m not allowed to change it,” Jonghyun says. “Apparently it’s ‘inappropriate’ for me to ban my sister from coming to visit even though she’s the whole reason I’m stuck in this fuckin’ place.”

Taemin frowns slightly, confused by the new information, but Jonghyun just shakes his head and Taemin gets the memo. Enough for now. Jonghyun is trying, but he can only try so hard. Instead, Taemin rewards him with a hand on his thigh, squeezing lightly beneath the table. He doesn’t even try to pretend that he can’t feel the way Jonghyun’s legs fall a little open for him, so easy, but he doesn’t take it any further either, just leaves it there while they eat.

It’s almost comfortable here. Taemin almost feels like this could become a new normal. But then Onew mumbles something about it being time for group, and Taemin remembers exactly where he is.

Jonghyun sighs. “I don’t think we should talk about this,” he says. “Onew was right, and I really don’t want to have to deal with getting a talking to about appropriate vs. inappropriate relationships. You guys too…”

Key doesn’t look happy, but he also looks at Minho, reaching over to take his hand. “He’s not wrong,” he says to Minho, touching him gently. “But it’s up to you.”

“I don’t…” Minho takes a second, frowning, mulling things over. “It seems childish to say I don’t want to hide this,” he says finally. “I don’t, but I don’t want to make things more difficult on you, either.”

Key exhales audibly, leaning in closer to Minho, as close as he can without moving his chair. And maybe Taemin hears wrong, or maybe he doesn’t, but either way it feels strangely private to hear the yearning in Key’s voice when he murmurs something that sounds a lot like, “You’re too good for me, Minho.”

Taemin swallows. “Yeah,” he says to Jonghyun in an effort to tune out Minho’s response. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s a good idea just yet. Especially after yesterday’s group. That wasn’t the best time I’ve ever had.”

“What, you don’t love being stuck in a circle and forced to overshare?” Jonghyun says, batting his eyes in faux-innocence. “It’s my favorite time of the year.”

Taemin’s brows furrow for a moment as he tries to work out if that was a bad Christmas pun or not, especially considering that Christmas is still months away, but it’s Minho who stands up first, moving to clear his and Key’s plates.

“We can try to cover for each other, if we need to?” he says, more of a question than anything.

Jonghyun snorts. “Yeah, I mean… honestly, just look confused and insist you don’t know anything and that’s you covered. The rest of us, well… we’ll figure something out. Can’t be that bad.”

Taemin hopes he’s right as they all clear their plates before making their way back down the hall. Onew doesn’t look like he can handle too much more stress right now, shuffling after them with a far-off look, his fingers wound into his sweater and his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He looks almost fragile somehow as they all take their seats, Onew smiling weakly at all of them.

Jonghyun pats his shoulder comfortingly as he passes. “We’re all gonna be fine. Don’t worry. After a couple of years, we’re all pretty good at talking circles. And Tae’s too stubborn to give up any information.”

Taemin lets out a startled laugh. Not that that’s not true, but the familiarity of it makes him feel a little warm, and he reaches out, squeezing Jonghyun’s hand once before the door opens and he lets it fall.

They’re barely even all settled before the doctor is bustling in, a look of barely-restrained frustration on his face. Probably because of them. Taemin remembers exactly how well this last attempt went.

“Good morning,” the doctor says, clipped but expectant, like he expects them all to chorus ‘good morning, Dr. Kwon’ like some sort of demented kindergarten classroom. There’s a resounding silence from most of them, only Onew mumbling something so soft it might as well not be words.

“Well, it looks like there are a few thing we need to discuss today,” Dr. Kwon says, and Taemin stiffens, just a little, but the doctor immediately turns to Minho. “Welcome back, Minho. We should discuss your feelings about waking up last night. I understand that must have been disorienting for you after your injury yesterday.”

Key winces openly. “I didn’t--”

And Taemin hadn’t heard about this yet, but Minho only nods slowly. “Key explained what happened,” he says. “The nurse too, but Key was the only one there when I fell.”

The doctor jots something down, the grit of pen against a clipboard making Taemin’s nerves jangle. “And were you open to believing Kibum? Not a slight against your honesty,” he adds, glancing at Key. “Just a gauge on Minho. I understand that it must be strange trusting someone you’ve never met.”

“We have met,” Minho says, frowning. “Just because I don’t remember, doesn’t mean…”

“But you don’t know him,” the doctor points out. “Wasn’t it difficult to believe someone who’s practically a stranger to you?”

“He’s not a stranger,” Minho mumbles a bit defensively, but his voice is shaky, and he looks at Key for help, eyes a little wild. “I mean... he’s never hurt me before…?”

The doctor hums, jotting down another note, but he doesn’t say anything, clearly waiting for more. Minho doesn’t look equipped to give it.

Across the circle, Onew shifts uncomfortably. “No, he hasn’t.”

The doctor looks over, raising an eyebrow. “Onew? Did you have something to add?”

“Just… no, he hasn’t.” Onew looks petrified somehow, pinned under the sudden attention. “You’re not really… confirming, but… Key hasn’t-- he wouldn’t, not to Minho. Or anyone.”

“Onew, I understand that you’ve been here long enough to know both Kibum and Minho, but I don’t think speculation--”

“Onew’s right, I haven’t,” Key says. “I don’t like you implying that I would. Or that I’d lie to Minho about it.”

“That’s not the discussion we’re having,” the doctor says, his voice not quite as calm anymore. “We’re discussing Minho’s feelings, not dealing in presumptions.”

“It’s not a presumption,” Onew says, and then flinches. “He... Key told the truth, and you’re talking to Minho like…”

Onew trails off, cringing a little, and Taemin is tempted to reach over and comfort him, but then he catches sight of the doctor’s face, cold and firm and calculating.

“Finish your statement, Onew,” he says. “I’d like to hear what you think I’m trying to do.”

Onew shudders bodily. “N-no, I just, I meant--”

“No?” the doctor asks, and Onew shakes his head miserably, eyes a little wild with something like terror. The doctor frowns. “Speak up.”

“Leave him alone, jesus,” Jonghyun says, scowling. “Can’t you see he’s just trying to help?”

“If Onew has something to say, we’re all here to listen. But interrupting another patient isn’t acceptable behavior,” the doctor says, and Taemin wants to deck him because it wasn’t like they weren’t all yelling over each other yesterday, and now he’s being a dick to Onew for daring to correct him? Not even correct, just try and negate some of his fucking with Minho. “Onew, you should know the rules of this group better, and are expected to follow them, do you understand?”

“I-I,” Onew chokes out, looking around in a panic, his fingers twisting roughly into his shirt. “I just w-wanted… I just--”

“Onew, you’re fine. You’re okay. No one’s mad at you,” Key says, all in a rush, and Taemin understands what’s happening then in the way Onew looks right now, stricken and upset and utterly breakable.

And there’s something edges, something purposeful about the way the doctor lifts his pen to the clipboard, poised to take notes, as he murmurs, “I, for one, am extremely disappointed that you aren’t following the rules.”

Taemin’s temper flare, a bolt of rage going through him, because Onew lets out a tiny, broken, whimper and then… nothing. He looks blank, almost empty, like there’s nothing there, and it’s just for a second, just a split-second of utter silence, and then his entire body changes, shoulders taking on a line of tension and hands balling to fists in front of him as his legs part a little, settling into a different position, almost hostile.

Jonghyun snarls. “What the fuck?”

“Leave it, Jonghyun,” Jinki says, voice hard and angry. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to figure out how to trigger us, isn’t that right? I’m not giving him the satisfaction. It’s just going to upset Onew.”

“The satisfaction?” Jonghyun snaps. “This asshole--”

“Stop, Jonghyun,” Jinki snaps. “I don’t have the time or patience to deal with you right now, so sit the fuck down and quit being pissed off.”

“No,” Taemin says, jaw tight. “No, Jonghyun’s right. That’s fucked up. He knew that would fuck with Onew. He knew.”

The doctor frowns. “I was merely making a statement--”

“You were merely being a fucking dick,” Taemin says. “You came in here today to play with Minho’s head, and you couldn’t get that, so you figured you’d mess with Onew’s? Jinki’s? Whatever. That’s fucked up!”

“Taemin,” Jinki starts, but Taemin is shaking with fury, trying to wrap his head around this.

“What are you going to do next, dope me up until I do nothing but sleep? Bring my father here so he can beat me into unconsciousness like he used to and pat yourself on the back because ‘at least he’s sleeping! Job well done!?’” His voice cracks pathetically, but he can’t bring himself to care. “Well congrats, and a hearty fuck you. You figured out Onew’s sick. Good fucking job!”

“Taemin, Tae, baby,” Jonghyun murmurs, trying to soothe him and probably horribly blowing their cover but fuck it. Taemin is pissed.

And the doctor doesn’t make it any better, his voice never leaving its cool monotone. “We were already aware that Onew was sick yes. But knowing what causes his alternate personality to appear is important information that is vital--”

Jinki laughs, cutting the doctor off mid-stride. “You could just as easily have asked for. Onew doesn't know. He's no help. But I know. And Jonghyunnie knows because he asked. But that would have been too easy. It's much more fun to poke and prod and use all those techniques they told you about in school for uncooperative patients. You’re so excited to know what's wrong that you don't care if you're making it worse.”

“That’s not--”

“Don’t lie to me!” Jinki says, voice suddenly ice-cold, almost cutting. “Don’t act like you’re just trying to help when all you’ve ever thought about since you were a kid was poking around in people’s brains and trying to figure out what made them tick. You’re not fooling anyone, doctor, and I promise you, if you ever fuck with Minho or Taemin, or anyone else here, if you ever even think about touching Onew again, I will personally make sure that you are intimately acquainted with what it feels like to have someone rooting around in your skull.”

Taemin’s chest feels tight, and his throat feels dry, and he can’t-- this isn’t the Jinki he met before. This can’t be. Even as he speaks up for Taemin, Taemin feels a burst of fear, uncontainable, and he grabs for Jonghyun’s hand, letting Jonghyun pull him in. “You’re okay,” Jonghyun says. “You’re safe. We’re safe.”

Taemin shudders. “I want to go,” he says. “I want to go.”

And Jonghyun nods weakly, letting himself be pulled as Taemin tugs him away from the group, running, just like he always has.

[maximofos]

Bouquets and Clichés

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Amidst the champagne, bad food, and terrible bridesmaid dresses could lie the start of a very good love story.

Warning: omg this is the 2nd most cliché thing I’ve ever written

“Y/N! There you are!” Wanda sidles up to you, hands delicately clutching the bottom of her dress so she doesn’t step on it. “We’re having a hairspray crisis.”

You just laugh, adding the finishing touch to your makeup. “There’s another can in my bag. Seriously, though, how much hairspray can four women go through in one day?”

Wanda spills out all the contents of your bag looking for the extra hairspray. She finally finds it and lets out a victory cry, rushing back into the other dressing area. You follow her, laughing to yourself. There’s already a cloud of hairspray forming from where Wanda is attacking Sharon’s hair with it.

Your heart lights up with happiness when you see Natasha. You can’t remember a time when she’s ever glowed this much. Her red hair is perfectly curled, and her ivory dress is impeccable. The skirt hugs to her frame, showing off her physique. The front comes around in a halter neck but her back is left bare. It’s the most beautiful you’ve ever seen your friend, and you couldn’t be happier for her.

“Okay, now that we’re all here and we’re actually put together instead of running around in robes,” Natasha holds up a glass of champagne and Sharon passes one to you, “I’d like to make a toast. Who would’ve thought any of us would be here to celebrate this day?”

The four of you chuckle, remembering your most recent mission. Half of the team had almost gotten blown up and the other half arrested. It hadn’t gone well but everyone made it out relatively unharmed. Such was the nature of your job.

“To Natasha and Bruce,” Wanda toasts. The rest of the group repeats it, raising your glasses and clinking them together. You touch the glass to your lips and before you can even take a sip, Pepper pokes her head through the door.

“Ladies, it’s time.”

Wanda, Sharon, and you all let out a breath, but Natasha remains perfectly composed, a smile on her face. “Nervous?” you ask, escorting her out the door to the main hall.

“Not at all,” she replies. You can tell she’s not lying. The only emotion in her eyes is complete and utter happiness. Love has turned your best friend into a sap. “How are you feeling?”

You sigh good-naturedly, handing her the bouquet and picking up yours. “There is nothing cheesier than being the only unmarried bridesmaid at a wedding taking place on Valentine’s Day.”

She laughs as you get into place behind the other two bridesmaids. “Just wait until after the ceremony. I’m going to hand you the bouquet.”

You groan, “Don’t you dare.” Slowly, the doors open and a breath of fresh air hits you in the face. Sharon walks out first, keeping pace with the music. She takes her place at the foot of the stone stage and then it’s Wanda’s turn. Soon enough, it’s your turn to step out into the bright natural light.

Natasha and Bruce hadn’t wanted a long engagement, which makes sense considering what a life-threatening occupation being an Avenger is – one never knows if they’re going to see tomorrow, let alone months from now. They also didn’t want to fuss about wedding planning. They much rather would have gone to the courthouse, but as Natasha’s best friend, you had put your foot down. If they didn’t want to plan a wedding, you’d do it for them. And you’d make it the most spectacular wedding ever. Enlisting Pepper’s help had been easy, and soon enough the wedding plans were finished. It had taken less than two months.

As you walk down the white carpet pathway to the stone stage, you can’t help but marvel at how much better it had turned out than you had imagined. You’d picked a secluded spot that matched their need for a small wedding. The sunlight beaming down into the clearing gave everything a magical quality. Piles of red and white rose petals lined the aisle and matching roses formed an archway over the stage where Natasha’s shy husband-to-be stood. The white folding chairs were filled with Avengers, former agents of SHIELD, and other miscellaneous superheroes. It was the perfect setting for a romantic wedding.

Taking your place beside Wanda, you watch as the audience stands up to face Natasha for her big entrance. As the music changes and Natasha steps through the doors, you can’t help but look at Bruce. His face says it all. His eyes glow with pride and love, and the grin on his face threatens to split in two. A million years ago, you wouldn’t have believed two people like Bruce and Natasha could ever fall in love, but here you were and if their faces weren’t enough to prove it, this day was.

Watching the two of them exchange vows, you can’t help but recall what you said to Natasha earlier. It’s not that you weren’t fine being single. You didn’t need a man to make you happy. But if there was ever a place to dwell on the fact that your love life is severely lacking, this was it.

You find yourself at the open bar once the reception moves inside. Mostly everyone is slow dancing with their respective partners, Nat and Bruce, Steve and Sharon, Wanda and Vision, Pepper and Tony. Thor has Jane, Clint has Laura, even Peter brought some cute little redhead girl as his date. A select few of you (you, Bucky, Pietro, Scott, Sam, and T’Challa) had chosen to go stag. After three glasses of champagne and two shots of something a little harder, you start to wish you’d just chosen to come with Pietro. At least you probably would’ve gotten lucky afterward.

“Y/N Y/L/N, what are you doing moping around here?” You look to your left to see your former director Nick Fury has taken the stool beside you. He orders a glass of whiskey from the bartender. “Doesn’t Barnes need a dance partner?”

You snort unattractively. “I’m sure there are plenty of nice women here who would love to tango with him.”

“It’d probably be more like swing dancing,” Fury says. “Don’t tell me you’re throwing a pity party for yourself.”

“I was but you crashed it,” you mumble, sipping your next drink through a straw. At the rate you’re going, you’ll be shitfaced before they even cut the cake. “I mean look, I’m the only woman here without a husband or so much as a boyfriend. I haven’t been on a date in weeks, and even then it was some awful blind date with a guy who smelled like tuna fish. Hell, I haven’t had sex in six months! I’m practically a nun.” The drinking is making you rant, and you can’t help the stuff spilling out of your mouth.

“You should not be telling me, your boss, about this,” deadpans Fury.

You wave the comment off with your hand. “You’re not my boss anymore. Steve is.”

“Actually,” a new voice corrects. Tony moves behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of liquor, and pouring himself a glass. “Tony is.”

You snort again, mumbling a “yeah, okay,” into your glass. The three of you stay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes before another new voice cuts in. “Is this where the outcast losers hang out?” Bucky grumbles, taking the bar stool on the other side of you.

Fury and Tony look at each other knowingly, taking their glasses and leaving you and Bucky alone together. You hardly notice. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” you ask him.

He nods his head over his shoulder, taking a swig of something from a flask. It smells strongly of that liquor Thor brings from Asgard. “Look at ‘em.” You look over your shoulder to see all the happy couples dancing and having a good time.

“You can’t begrudge them. At least they seem happy.” You’d give anything to be in that group right now instead of on the sidelines lonely and drunk.

“And meanwhile, we’re here,” Bucky sighs, “at the bottom of the barrel.”

You nudge your shoulder against his. “We haven’t quite hit rock bottom yet.”

“Race ya,” he replies, taking another sip from his flask. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his metal hand wraps around it for fear of turning yourself on.

You laugh, swirling your drink around with your straw, your chin in the other hand. “I would’ve thought you’d be fine coming alone. Didn’t think you’d be ready to get back out there yet.”

“Doll, I haven’t had sex in seventy years. I need back out there pronto.” You both laugh and you realize in the comfortable silence how much you enjoy Bucky’s company. You also notice just how close the two of you are sitting. His legs are spread open and yours are crossed, your foot tucked right behind his knee.

You bite your lip, dredging up the courage to say, “If you ever wanna go out sometime, or even if you just want to be close to someone, you know where to find me.”

His eyes drift past you for a moment before they land back on you. Bucky smiles at you, a new light twinkling in his eye. “I think I’m gonna take you up on that. Tomorrow even.” You smirk at him, glad you’re on the same page. He leans in closer to you and whispers, “But not before I take you out to dinner.”

“Sergeant Barnes,” you muse. From the look on his face, you can tell he likes it when you call him sergeant. Good to know. “such a gentleman.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he says. The song playing in the room changes, coincidentally to one of your favorites. He stands up, holding out a hand for you. “Come on, doll. They’re playing our song.”

As Bucky leads you out to the dancefloor, you don’t even notice that Natasha’s bouquet now lay right where Fury had been sitting on the other side of you.

A/N: I have no idea where this came from, holy shit. I apologize for the terrible ships in this story but it was the best way I could make it work.