#the way this author writes them is just so yummy in general

[headache-haven]

just saw someone use parasites as an allegory for love in a voidwelt fic and i will never be the same

[chouxsardine]

Love is a four-legged word--Sam Kiszka x reader

Summary: Love comes in all forms, it is, afterall, a four-legged word--Sam and y/n met at a park while walking their dogs. The furry friends are their best wingman.

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 7418

Warnings: dogs, description of crying, allusion to death of pet, death of animals, mention of the name of alcohol (but no alcohol involved) (please let me know if I missed any!)

Genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Author's note: This is my longest piece so far and my first Sam piece (yipee!! exciting!) This was a Christmas gift to I want to @dannythedog thank her for hosting the gvf secret santa. But as late as it was… I hope it can still count as a New Year's gift? This took so long to write and I myself went through a pretty emotional journey while writing this. I have more to say, but I will save for the end if you care to read it. Enjoy for now.

“Come on, Rosie bug, it’s time for your walk.” Sam stood up from the sofa, raising his arm for a stretch.

Being the good girl that she is, Rosie was already waiting patiently at the door, sitting still while Sam put the harness and leash on her.

It was a sunny afternoon, warm and cloudless after consecutive days of rain. Taking advantage of the delightful weather, Sam decided to extend their daily walk and take Rose to the park. He has always loved this park. There’s just something so intimate about this public space that always draws him towards it. It is situated a few blocks away from downtown, a beautiful getaway from the hurly burly of the city. It has a large lawn area that turns into the most pleasant shade of green in April, around his birthday. The colour so lovely that it gives him the urge to touch the grass, hug a tree, and nuzzle his face into nature. It is also the best place to people-watch—college lovebirds, laughing toddlers, family picnics—it is like being in one of Georges Seurat’s paintings.

It seems that many people think the same way as Sam. The park was busier than usual. The duo took their familiar route, following the gravel path to the fountain where the running tracks start. They would take a break on the bench where Rose can enjoy some treats.

Sam has done a good job socializing Rose due to the need for frequently traveling on the road. Rose is a curious girl and is open to making new friends, but she always listens to Sam. When other dogs pass by either barking over-excitedly or stopping to exchange friendly sniffs, Rose generally remains unfazed. She knows that remaining her composure and staying close to Sam is going to warrant some loving pets and yummy treats. Therefore, when a black and white Pit Bull trotted up to Rose, Sam didn’t pay too much attention. The dogs are all on leashes in this area. If any of them stop for a little longer, Sam will usually exchange a friendly smile with the owner, then each side will go about their own business. However, Rose seemed to be especially interested in this new friend. She stood up and started wagging her tail softly, gently bumping nose with her newfound friend, learning their smell and demeanour. That’s when Sam noticed that this dog looked a little special. Instead of the common collar, it was wearing a blue bandana with the word “adopt” printed on the corner. Sam followed the leash and looked all the way up. He saw a pretty girl looking down at the two dogs interacting with a mesmerizing smile.

Sensing his gaze, the girl quickly looked up.

“Oh hi, so sorry about this. Klaus is a shelter dog; he doesn’t get to interact with other dogs a lot, so he got a bit excited.” She said apologetically.

Ah, so that explains the bandana.

Now it seemed that Klaus took an interest in Sam as well. Considering his lack of socialization, Sam thinks Klaus is doing exceptionally well. He was sniffing Sam’s jeans, nudging his ankles with his nose.

“No, no, don’t worry. I don’t mind.” Sam bent down and extended the back of his hand to Klaus. After receiving a lick and some kisses as signs of approval, he started scratching Klaus behind the ears. “I’m Sam, and this is Rose.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam. I’m y/n,” y/n said before crouching down. Rose immediately moved towards her and started pawing her hand.

One thing Sam loves the most about Rose is that she has good taste in people. Come on, this girl chose Sam to be her handler. (Sam has always believed that it is Rose who came to him, not the other way around.) And based on Rose’s reaction now, Sam would like to boldly assume that y/n is a decent person as well.

“Come on, Klaus, let’s go.” y/n gently tugged the leash, but she was completely ignored. The two dogs were already playing together, bowing and bouncing just like puppies.

“They can play for a bit,” Sam said. He loves seeing Rose Bud making friends. “If you are not in a rush, that is.”

“No, I’m not. Thank you so much,” y/n relented.

“So, Klaus is a shelter dog, you said?” Sam asked as he scooted over and let out more space on the bench for y/n to sit next to him.

“Yes, today is his Doggy Day Out,” y/n kindly explained. “People can sign up to take a shelter dog out for a ‘field trip’ for a day. It helps them manage kennel stress and increases their chances of getting adopted.”

The thoughtfulness of the idea makes Sam smile. He has heard about similar programs before, but this was his first time encountering an example in real life. “So you chose Klaus?”

“Yeah, Klaus is one of the longest residents at the shelter.” y/n cupped the dog’s adorable face in her hands and cooed. “I mean, look at his face, how could I say no? Besides, people often have a misunderstanding about Pit Bulls, you know, about them being aggressive and all; so it’s harder for them to get adopted.”

As absurd as it sounds, that is sadly the truth. Sam remembers seeing more than once those distasteful comments under Rose’s account.

“Indeed. Sometimes we truly don’t deserve dogs.” He said.

A comfortable silence draped over them, except it was quite loud in y/n’s mind and chest right now. Y/n had been stealing glances at the man next to her in between conversations the whole time and she hoped she wasn’t being too obvious. There was no denial that Sam is outright gorgeous. He was wearing a navy blue t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned black plaid shirt, black pants, and a pair of Nike blazers. But what attracted her the most was his hair, the hair that suddenly made her self-conscious about her own (which really needed to get washed today). Sam has dark brown hair the length to his shoulder. The loose curls look lush and smooth, shining under the sunlight, which makes it a lighter flax colour. The strands that frizzes away are delicate and golden, swaying along with his breathing. Y/n bet they are silky and soft to the touch too. Plus, he has really pretty hands, with the pink leash wrapped around his palm contrasting against his olive skin. Slim, bony fingers, with nails that are clean, round and well-trimmed. Those are hands well-kept.

Maybe there is a grain of truth to what people say about first impression after all, Sam thought. A girl with Rose’s approval, a nice smile, and a sensible and tasteful take on Pit Bulls (She also looks cute). Sam thinks he quite liked her.

“So, what are your plans for the day? I mean, for Klaus?” Sam quickly corrected himself to sound less snoopy.

“We haven’t left the shelter for long. I was planning on getting him a pup cup first.”

“Pup cup! What a coincidence, that’s exactly what Rose bug and I have in mind,” (Liar. He didn’t). Sam put on his best smile. “Mind if we join you?”

Their conversation carried on smoothly as they made their way to the nearby bakery. Sam found out that y/n volunteers at the local shelter and works as a freelance photographer and a part-time dog walker. Y/n learned that Sam is a bassist and keyboard player who is in a band with his brothers (“That explains the pretty fingers,” Y/n thought to herself).

The bakery is a hidden gem in the neighbourhood, with a walk-up window inlaid into the white brick wall. A blackboard with cursive chalk writing was propped up beside it, displaying the menu. A separate hand-drawn poster on the wall sayid “puppuccino available for furry friends” in brush lettering.

“Do you want anything? My treat,” Sam asked as they approached the queue. “Please say yes so I have an excuse to ask for your number just in case you want to return the favour sometime.”

A bold move? Yes. But he felt like taking chances today.

Y/n raised her eyebrows in slight surprise. Sam held her gaze, silently restating his point.

“Fine, if you insist.”

“I do insist.” Sam stepped aside as it was their turn to order and let y/n go first. “After you.”

That’s smooth. Real Smooth. Y/n thought. Almost as smooth as his hair.

For the next few weeks, Sam and y/n has been talking on and off through text messages. Their chat history was mainly composed of Sam sending goofy dog videos and y/n replying with cute pictures she took of dogs at the shelter. Sometimes Sam spotted y/n holding multiple leashes, walking dogs on the sidewalk, and sometimes he went to the shelter under the excuse of dropping off donations just to see her. Occasionally, they would fix a date to meet at the park for a “puppy play date” when y/n took another dog on their Doggy Day Out. While the dogs rolled together or chased each other within their sight, they would sit on the bench with coffee cups in their hands and a box of cookies between them to share. Y/n found Sam to be a charming guy. She loves his brutal honesty and his humour with a witty tongue. He loves to hold her gaze while talking to her. At first, she hated it—the unrelenting stare from those captivating brown eyes makes her want to squirm in her seat—and Sam was never the first to break eye contact. But over time she had learnt to stare back nonchalantly, usually with a single raise of her eyebrow.

There was no lack of vocal banters as well, which usually embarks after one of them blurts out some controversial opinion. With some people, a debate over things like if pineapple belongs on pizza or should you pour milk before cereal can quickly lead to annoyances, but it’s different with Sam. Sam brings out the competitiveness in y/n just like she was back in her high school debate club. Backchat with Sam is fun; he makes one willing to takes all the steps—from gathering evidence to forming thesis statement—just to be rebutted by a single line of his ingenious comment; and y/n is not even mad about it. The cherry on top is that Sam always likes to push one step further by adding the flirtatious “What now, little mama, cat caught your tongue?”. She feels offended in the best possible way.

On the other hand, as composed as he seems to y/n, Sam feels that things always came out of his mouth without filters when he is with y/n. For example, he will never let go of that one time they argued about the right way to hang up toilet paper.

“It’s obviously under! Have you ever had times when you hang it over and it unrolls itself and you get this massive pile of toilet paper on the floor?”

“No, Sam, I have not. I’m pretty sure that’s because you got a bad roll or some mean spirit in your bathroom pulled it.”

“It’s a perfect roll, just out of the package!”

“Then it’s definitely some mean spirit. Burning some sage should fix it. Obviously, the correct way is over so that it doesn’t rub against the wall.”

“Bold of you to assume I have dirty walls!”

“How do I know? You probably do!”

“I will not stand any defamation to my name and my wall. You can only form such an opinion after you have checked it out!”

Y/n gave him an interesting look. Just before she could say something, Rose rushed back to their side, and for once, Sam was relieved that the debate withered away because as soon as those words left his mouth, he wanted to slap himself.

Why would you say that, you freaking idiot? What kind of activities should you be engaging in that will lead to a situation involving you showing her the cleanness of your bathroom wall, which unfortunately is, in fact, kind of gross and stained with flashed pee?

But fate is a fickle little thing. Little does Sam know, it was not long before they did end up in that situation, just not in the way as he has expected.

Earlier that day, Sam has sent y/n a message asking if she wants to meet at the park the next day and received a brief message that reads, “Sorry, got caught up at the shelter”.

That is usually a bad sign because it means that there’s either a large intake or some kind of emergency. Y/n also ran a volunteer social media account, posting adorable pictures and short videos that she took of the dogs when she takes them out for a walk for temperament tests, adding visibility to help they find a loving home. Sam vaguely remembered y/n mentioning that they took in a puppy that was hit by a car. He secretly hoped it wasn’t any bad news. Sam debated between sending her a goofy dog meme with the caption “Take care” to lighten up the mood or asking further. He waited, but the three dots on the other side of the chat box never came up.

It was around nine in the evening when Sam received another text from y/n.

Y/n: Are you busy right now?

Sam: No, just chilling. What’s up?

Y/n: My car broke down.

The three dots are still blinking when Sam’s finger flew through the screen.

Sam: location?

Sam: I’ll be there.

Rose looked up confused from her spot on the couch, when Sam rushed to the foyer, one arm already in his jacket and stuffing his feet into shoes.

“Hold the fort, Rose bud!” He yelled before locking the door behind him.

Y/n’s car broke down not too far away from the shelter. Sam saw the tow truck and the roadside assistance as he drove near. Y/n was talking to the truck driver. From the distance, she looked so forlorn and lost under the jarring redness of warning lights. The size different between her and the heavyset man towering over her makes her looked like a puppy soaked in rain. Sam had never felt such a strong sense of protectiveness towards anyone. He wanted nothing more than to rush to her side and engulf her in a hug, if she would let him.

He almost drifted as he swerved his car into an empty parking space by the side of the road. He ran to y/n’s side.

“Okay, Miss. The insurance company will contact you for further details,” the roadside assistance worker nodded to y/n. “The truck will tow your car to the garage. Do you have a ride home?”

“Yes,” said Sam before y/n could answer.

The man gave him a knowing look before he said, “Good. Make sure you take all your valuable belongings in the car with you.”

Sam helped y/n put her stuff in the backseat of his car before opening the passenger side’s door for her. Sam had noticed that y/n’s body was stiff and tense the whole time when she was standing outside, and it remained so as she plopped down onto the seat.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” Sam turned to her eagerly once he had situated himself.

As soon as the words left his lips, the dam broke loose. Y/n’s shoulder visibly relaxed as loud sobs ripped through her body. She tried to purse her lips and contain herself but tragically failed. For a minute, she couldn’t make a single syllable other than frantically shaking her head and shoving her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle her crying. Y/n’s whimper filled the car, mixed with the loud beeping alert and yelling outside as the truck towed y/n’s car away.

“Oh, y/n,” Sam felt like someone had stamped on his heart. “Can I give you a h—”

Without a word, y/n almost knocked herself into his arms. It was only when he was holding her that he realized how badly she was trembling. This is their first proper hug, far from how Sam has imagined it. He wrapped his arms around y/n’s frame, one hand hugging her shoulders to him and the other rubbing her hand in wide, gentle stripes, tucking her head under his chin. Y/n’s hand held onto Sam’s arm, fingers digging into his biceps like a drowning person holding onto a piece of driftwood. Sam was firstly relived that y/n was not physically hurt; and then there were the emotions, which they could deal with. Whatever made her this devastated, he was determined to turn it around and make it better.

They stayed like that for a while, bodies squishing together uncomfortably over the middle console, until Y/n finally started to calm down.

She pulled away from Sam’s hug. Sam immediately reached to the backseat for the tissue box, from which y/n took a handful of tissues and turned her head to the side to wipe her face.

“It…it was Huxley,” she was fighting to speak without breaking down again. “He’s g—gone.”

Upon hearing the name, Sam’s heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. His former wish had fallen through after all. Huxley was the puppy that came to the shelter from a car accident. He was sent in by a Good Samaritan on Monday. From the photo y/n posted, Sam knew that he was a young Australian cattle dog. Sam thought he was out of danger as y/n updated the post on Tuesday, saying that there was a rescue willing to pull him.

Sam didn’t press on with further questions. He sat patiently, handing y/n more tissues as she needed and waited to piece together the story from snatches of her speech.

“They did an x-ray and found he has a fractured pelvis. A rescue tagged him…and he was supposed to l-leave the shelter today.”

“We thought he was f-fine until…until he suddenly deteriorated this a-afternoon. There was, um, internal bleeding and… the vet said, the in-injury was too serious to recover and, and s-suggested…”

It was taking all her strength for y/n to squeeze out the last few words: “…it…it was the kindest to..put him d-down.”

Y/n buried her face into her hands as she resorted to another burst of weeping. Her shoulders shuddered with every muffled sob. “He reminded me of Wendy…I couldn’t save n-neither of them!”

This was the first time Sam has heard about Wendy from y/n. He guessed that Windy used to belong to y/n. He had once saw a photo of y/n and a white puppy tucked in her wallet when she was paying for coffee. Y/n never talked about it and Sam never asked. He decided he was still going to be silent about it today. He wouldn’t want to force her to narrate whatever tragic event that had happened in the past again, knowing that she probably had already done it to herself over and over again in her brain upon seeing the loss of Huxley.

Sam mulled over his words. Platitudes like “you have already done your best” sounded superfluous. Y/n, and he believes that everyone at the shelter, did everything they could; but that doesn’t fix things, does it?

“Was he loved when he was gone?” Sam gently took y/n’s hand in his.

“I was too coward to stay until the last moment,” y/n looked at Sam through teary eyes, “and he couldn’t really stomach any food by then. But yes, we made sure he was surrounded by treats and toys.”

“Then that’s what matters,” Sam managed a smile and said softly. “Dogs are very grateful creatures, you know that. Now that Huxley has crossed the rainbow bridge, he must be thanking you for loving him to the end, to provide him with a warm bed so he didn’t have to go alone and scared on the side of some highway.”

Y/n’s was still hiding her face in her palms, with her elbows resting on her knees, but Sam recognized a trembling nod from her. Now he felt tears stinging in his own eyes. He rubbed the area between y/n’s shoulder blades and carefully opened his mouth: “Look, y/n. I don’t want to sound like I’m taking advantage of the situation. But I am really worried about leaving you alone for the night like this. Would you like to perhaps crash at my place for the night? Rosie can keep you company.”

“Let me take care of you.” Sam closed his eyes for a second before he added, “As a friend?”

To his relief, y/n nodded again before turning her head slightly to face him, revealing half of her face, all wrinkled with red marks and tear stains, her eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“Sorry for being a bother.” She whispered through quivering lips.

“Never. Never a bother, mama,” Sam’s heart clenched again, hard. He reached out and gently squeezed the back of y/n’s neck before starting the car. “I got you.”

Y/n could hear Rosie’s claws clacking on the wooden floor before Sam turned the key in the lock. As he opened the door, they are welcomed by an excited Rosie, just as expected. Sam had taught Rosie well not to bolt towards guests or jump on them, so she was expressing her joy through a wagging tail that put her whole body into motion and repeated bowing; her pink tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. The goofy gestures raised a chuckle out of y/n. The first smile that he had seen on her face all night.

Sam’s apartment is cozy and vibrant. It has rustic brick walls and exposed beams. A red oriental rug lies in the middle of the room in front of a light camel-coloured sofa. There are touches here and there where Sam lets his intrusive thoughts win—so a piece of decor that does not match the general style appears but ends up working nonetheless, such as the banana leaf wall paper that only covers one side of the wall. A long-neck floor lamp throws warm glow over half of the living room.

“Go sit, y/n. Make yourself at home. You want some tea?” Sam laid out a pair of slippers for her as he asked.

Y/n had half a heart to reject out of politeness but realized she was too tired to put on any facade, and it is unnecessary after all considering she had just bawled her eyes out before Sam. Her eyes were stinging from crying and her face must have looked like a mess now.

“Thank you. Can I borrow the bathroom, please?”

“Of course! It’s right there.” Sam pointed her the right door.

Closing the door behind her, y/n felt like her legs were about to gave out. She sat down on the closed toilet lid and closed her eyes, thoughts swarming in her mind. Now that the initial throbbing pain in her chest has subsided, she began interrogating herself. What was it that made her agree to stay here overnight? “Worry about leaving you alone”….You are used to being alone—heck, you have been for years. All the past experiences and rational judgements were reprimanding her in a motherly tone with a scowl, but her body was faithful to the ghostly touches and phantom breaths that he had left on her skin during their hug. She forgot when was the last time that she had received a hug that conveyed such empathy without blind assumption. She forgot when was the last time that she felt valid for her feeling sad and mourning. She forgot when was the last time that she was not forced to explain. Yet Sam came and reset the record for her.

Three gentle knocks on the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Yes?”

“I grabbed you a clean towel. I’m putting it on the handle, so just watch it when you open the door.” Sam’s voice came from the other side of the door.

Oh Sammy, Y/n thought to herself with a wry smile. The nickname naturally slips into her mind. This is not helping.

What it is about this man that makes you trust him enough to break down in front of him and then agree to stay at his place overnight? Was it because he was nice to dogs? Green flag. Nice hair and clean nails, perfect side profiled, chiseled like an Apollo statue? Green flag. Top tier banter and flirting? Beige flag (but has potential).

Her brain started hurting again. Her heart said fuck it, go wipe your face, drink tea, and pray that he’s not a patient serial killer three months in disguise who likes to collect dog memes. Y/n opened her eyes and the first thing she saw brought an untimely giggle out of her.

Toilet paper hanging from under? Red flag.

When y/n opened the bathroom door again, Sam was feeding Rose her dinner.

“There you are! Thought you fell in.” Sam looked up at her with a toothy grin.“Sorry,” he apologized for his joke before y/n even said anything. “I made you tea, I guess you haven’t eat yet? I can order takeout or whip something up real quick.”

“That’s very nice of you, Sam. But I really don’t think I can handle a meal right now. Tea will be just fine for me. Thank you.”

Y/n must have washed her face in the washroom. Now her face looked fresh, setting off her reddish nose which she rubbed a little too harshly. The bags under her swollen eyes made her looks droopy, much different from the energetic y/n under the sun in the park. She looked very….huggable.

Y/n took a sip from the mug Sam handed her. It’s lavender tea. She felt her nerves slowly stretched as the warm liquid slid into her stomach. Having finished her dinner, Rose wasted no time joining them on the sofa. She found the perfect spot between Sam and y/n, laying her head on her folded paws.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

“Um-hmm,” y/n absent-mindedly hummed. “You take the pick.”

Absolutely nothing furry, nothing barking, nothing wagging its tail. Sam scrolled through the catalogue.

Y/n raised her eyebrows when she saw Sam finally settling on Vanderpump Rules.

“Surprised?”

“Surprised, amused, guilty as charged.” Y/n admitted.

“No way! Which season are you on?”

“Seven? I can’t remember much though.”

Sam couldn’t deny it, there’s just something about watching and becoming invested in other people’s cheating drama that gets you to forget about your own problems real fast, at least temporarily. When one of the girls made an especially spiteful comment and Sam got no reaction from y/n, he turned and saw her dozing off, her chin rested on her clavicle, one hand still resting on Rose’s back.

She’s bound to get a stiff neck sleeping that way. Sam gently pulled her shoulder to the side, resting her head on a cushion, and pulled the blanket over her. Other than making a few indistinguishable murmur, she didn’t stir; or if she did, she chose to relent to Sam’s touch. Now that her eyes were closed, she looked peaceful under the orange light of the lamp, one almost couldn’t tell she was crying so hard a few hours ago. Sam debated if he should carry her to the bedroom or at least wake her up, but in the end, he did neither. Instead, he sat down on the carpet, his side pressed against the sofa, putting his head on his elbow.

Whatever this is, it fels tranquil and nice. She is close and far, her silence remote and candid, still as a star*. It feels like love. He feels his heart heavy with love. She doesn’t know. Maybe she will, eventually. But not now. Now he just wants to have this moment, in case it is all he will ever have.

Y/n is woken up by the wetness of her face. “Rose, stop!” She managed to open her eyes under Rose’s kiss attack. She propped herself up on her elbow and saw Sam sitting on the floor next to her, still asleep. But that changed quickly as he became Rose’s next target. Did he just sleep all night like this? The light seeping through the curtains formed bright patters on the floor. Gosh, she must be really tired to sleep so soundly on the sofa.

“Morning.” Y/n pursed her lips, containing a chuckle as she met gaze with a hair-disheveled Sam, who was holding the side of his neck, grimacing.

Sam felt every single bone in his body crackling as he stood up. Actions have consequences.

The drive back to Y/n’s house was quiet. Y/n thanked him for letting her stay overnight, which he insisted that was no big deal. Then he cranked up the radio and let Stephen Stills take over.

“Thank—-”

“I swear, if you thank me again—-”

They almost said together as the car pulled up to a halt in front of y/n’s apartment.

Y/n smiled apologetically nonetheless.

“Hey, like I said, it’s really no big deal. It wasn’t so courteous of me not to offer you dinner and let you sleep on the couch anyway,” Sam said. “I am very sorry about what has happened. I hope you are feeling better now.”

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. It was after several heartbeats that she said, “You know, your bathroom walls are dirty, Kiszka.”

Sam blinked and then barked out a laugh, throwing his hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged.”

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Sam watched as y/n unbuckled the seatbelt. He could tell that for a second, y/n was going to thank him again.

“I’m not guilt tripping you into this, but…the offer to co-dog walk always stands.”

“Sure. I’ll let you know.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Y/n paused as she shut the door.

“Hug Rosie extra tight for me.” With that, she turned on her heels and walked away.

It was three days later that they met again at the park. The weather was starting to get cold. Sam would always choose the vivifying spring days over fall, but he also appreciates some delicious crunching of the leaves as one walks.

“I can really tell the season is changing when the benches feel a bit cold under the tush.” Sam commented as he sat down next to y/n.

“Oh, do we have to get you padded pants then?”

“Seriously, do they make those?” Sam gasped in feigned surprise. “Anyways, how’s your car?”

“I got a call yesterday, it should be ready to pick up by Thursday,” Y/n said. She was chewing on the edge of her coffee cup. “I feel so stupid losing it like that the other day.”

“But you don’t have to, though. There’s nothing wrong about feeling things, and emotions don’t lie.”

“Yeah, I guess. But in the end it’s not about me, it’s about them. There’s always more dogs that need help and always more to do.”

“I know you said not to, but I really need to,” y/n said as she turned to Sam and threw her arms around him, catching him in surprise. “Thank you, Sammy.”

Sam couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt to have her nose buried in his shoulder. Talking about emotions don’t lie.

His hair smells nice too. And it is indeed so, so soft. Green flag.

Somehow, they fell back into the old rhythm after that. Sam guessed that when people say woman in a dream, they must be referring to their phantasmagoric nature. With each day passing, he became more and more inclined to believe that what he thought he had was nothing more than wishful thinking and self-deception.

Christmas was approaching. Their brother’s lack of contribution to the holiday preparation did not go unnoticed by the twins. Jake was first to approach Sam, saving Josh as the last resort. Although Jake doubted if they would really need him.

“Sammy boy, what are you sulking about?” Jake sat down next to Sam, who was lying facedown on the carpet.

“M’not sulking,” Sam mumbled. “You just interrupted my perfect nap.”

“No shit, wonder if you can even breathe lying like that.” Jake nudged him in the ribs, earning himself a smack on the arm.

“Have you asked her out yet?”

“Who?”

“Quit playing with me, brother. You’ve been spending enough time at the shelter and the park that we thought Rosie was going to the big sis this time.”

Sam flipped over with a groan, his hand laying across his forehead. “No. I think she probably doesn’t feel that way, honestly.”

“Okay,” Jake rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But how do you feel? Really smitten?”

“I don’t know,” Sam sighed. “You know the trend that goes, ‘one minute you are asking for her number, the next minute you are getting screamed at by her cat’? When I asked for her number, I was hoping so bad that we will be making advent calendar for our dogs every year.”

“Damn.” For a moment, Jake was struck by the weight of that statement; its authenticity and spontaneity echoed in the air.

“You really got some of Josh’s romantic shit, huh?”

“Don’t act like you haven’,.” Sam rolled his eyes. Jake couldn’t argue with that.

“Look, I knew you will tell her eventually. Come on, don’t give me that look. We both know that you will. But this is not like some assignment where you can just keep putting off until all the points have been abducted.”

“You have my permission to take the day off. But you better be making it up to me once you’ve got her. Do you have any idea how painful it is to untangle four strands of those lights? My fingers deserve better than that.”

Sam shot his elder brother a plaintive look. Jake raised his eyebrows provocatively, but the genuine encouragement still shone through.

“Just get your ass up already, kid.”

Sam was going to see y/n that day anyway. The shelter was doing Christmas dinner for the animals and y/n had texted him earlier asking if he wanted to come help. The shelter around Christmas looked like a kindergarten. Garlands and ribbons hung from the ceiling. Cheerful Christmas carols played through the announcement speakers. Even the bulletin board were updated with the animals’ intake pictures with their new Christmas photoshoots.

“Y/n is at the big dog kennel in the back.”

The round-faced woman at the front desk warmly greeted Sam as she recognized him. He had been a regular; the staff had naturally associated him with y/n and had been secretly calling him the sexy Tarzan*. (Y/n burst out laughing when she first heard that nickname; she couldn’t deny the resemblance is uncanny.)

Sam wasn’t sure how he was going to do this. Yes, he was going to wing it but it’s not like he could just blurt it out. The place started to smell like food as Sam passed the reception area. He found y/n and her colleagues standing in the meet-and-greet area around a table full of buckets and a crock pot with the largest turkey he had ever seen. Y/n waved him in as she saw him.

“Thanks for coming! We’re about to start.” Y/n handed him an apron.

“There are separate bucket for veggies, meat, and broth. You just grab some from each into the bowl and pass it down, Sally and Theo will squeeze in the yogurt and puree, add the dry treats…and a bowl is done!” Y/n walked him around the table as they went through each step.

“This feels like I’m at a poke station.” Sam chuckled.

“It is, special Christmas edition.”

Suddenly, Sam felt more at ease. He was grateful that y/n volunteers at the shelter. It’s at least comforting to think that he would have nearly a hundred flurry friends as his wingman.

They walked down the corridor, stopping at each kennel, opening the door and sliding in the bowl. Some dogs were more timid and nervous, huddling in the corner and coming up to the food when they were left alone. Y/n made sure to skip those ones a few more beef jerky. But most of them were already wagging their tails like windshield wipers in heavy rain, waiting impatiently at the front of their kennel.

It took them nearly an hour going through the whole the dog area before the empty cart was wheeled back to the preparation room.

“They have special food for the smaller animals like the rabbits as well. But, by far, our job here is completed. Well done, soldier!” Y/n untied her apron and threw in onto the table.

“Are you doing anything after?” Y/n asked.

“No, not really. Why?” Upon hearing that question, hope and anxiety bubbled together in Sam’s stomach.

“I could treat you to a coffee for helping out today, or perhaps hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate sounds great.”

“Awesome, you’re in for a treat. I know a place that makes bomb hot cocoa.”

It was snowing heavily when they stepped out. The ground is already covered in a thin white layer. The snow was coming down thick and fast, Sam could hear it falling onto the crisp fabric of his jacket. They walked along the side road. The sky was already dark, making the snowflakes dancing under the streetlights all the more obvious. The cars passing by, their tires rolling over the splashing snow, made sounds like someone stirring the repeatedly pushing the buttons of a a fountain drink machine. As nice as it was, Sam soon realized his mistake of forgetting to wear gloves when he headed out. It was strange how he seldom felt cold amid the big snowfalls, it’s always the coldest the day before. It was always the build up.

“So….do you have any plans for Christmas?”

“Oh, yeah I do. I am going to this awesome party. I'm going to dance, have fun, raid the charcuterie board, get shit-face drunk, and then crawl back home. Giving the weather we are having now, I’m probably going to slip and fall, break my face on the sidewalk, and lay there unconsciously until some hobo finds me and steals my purse, but all he is going to find are handfuls of puke that I threw up earlier,” y/n finished with a mischievous smile. “How does that sound?”

Sam was speechless for a few seconds. “I’m only with you on the ‘raiding the charcuterie board’ part.” He finally said.

“Always appreciate a good humour, Kiszka.”Y/n threw back her head and laughed. “I’m messing with you. Quite the opposite, I’m doing nothing. Probably still going to drink, but definitely no party.” She made a stank face.

Y/n has mentioned that she had just moved here not long ago. Sam never heard her mentioning much about her family, and he did not want to blindly assume.

“Do you want to come to mine for Christmas?”

“Crashing your family gathering as a stranger? That doesn’t sound like a very courteous thing to do.” Y/n replied.

Sam tried to focus his sight on the tip of his shoes. Just say it already. He was suddenly afraid to look to y/n. It feels better just to hear the rejection, not to face it head on, right? And could they still have hot chocolate after this? He could really use one now.

“Well, wouldn’t be weird if you were going as my girlfriend,” he finally said.

It was taking everything in Sam to hold his gaze on y/n. He saw her head shot right up. Beneath the initial shock, Sam couldn’t quite figure out the emotion hiding in her eyes. It’s always the build up. Always the build up. But now that the cat is out of the bag, he might as well just spill it out.

“I think I really like you, y/n.”

A smile crept up onto the corner of y/n’s mouth, and Sam saw it grew to a grin.

“Are you cold?” she asked.

“Hum?” That was not what he was expecting. But he appreciated a question, any question, to redirect the attention from the….previous embarrassment.

��Did you forget your gloves?” It was only then that Sam realized that he has subconsciously managed to snake his hands into the opposite sleeves of his jacket and fold his arms in front of his chest in order to warm up his hands.

“Yes, and my fingers are freezing off,” he said through gritted teeth. “And I am dying of suspense and embarrassment.”

Unexpectedly, y/n sighed and took off one of her own gloves. “There’s no need to feel embarrassed,” she said as she pried Sam’s right hand out of his sleeve and delicately stuck his stiff fingers into the glove, as if caring for newborn ducklings.

“It feels kind of good to see even Mr. ‘beat-me-in-every-banter’ at a loss for witty comments when it comes to feelings. Just proves we’re all human, doesn’t it?” She then took Sam’s other hand into her own and placed them into the pocket of her coat.

“There. See how much better it is if we simply express ourselves?”

Sam could feel y/n’s thumb brushing his numb muscles. “I may not be the best person to lecture you on this because, well, I myself have done a pretty lousy job at it too. But, I can try to improve, as your girlfriend.”

“Can you give me the chance to try?”

Oh god, now she’s asking me.

“My honour, y/n,” Sam felt like he could breathe again. And his quick wit returned. “One thing is not true though.”

“What?” Y/n asked as they continued to walk.

“I didn’t beat you to every banter. I lost in the toilet paper one.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“I guess you were right. I called a truce with my bathroom ghost the other day.”

A man who is not afraid to confess his feelings and admit when he is wrong? Green flag.

Easter Egg

Y/n did end up attending the Kiszka’s Christmas gathering as Sam’s girlfriend. Jake was smug about it the whole time (“Told you we don’t need Josh”.) He determined that Sam owed him big time and demanded that he repays him by taking down the Christmas tree and and moving it up to the attic after the holidays are over.

Of all, Rose was more than thrilled to have her over because y/n came bearing special gift for her.

“I brought dog beer.” Y/n said proudly.

“You brought what?”

“Dog beer!” y/n laughed, showing the package of four cans. “It’s just unsalted bone broth with oat and barley.”

“Shame on you for leading Rose bug down this dangerous path!” Sam pretended to be annoyed but was already reaching for Rose’s water bowl.

“Come on, Rose’s a good girl, she can handle it. Plus, she is under parental supervision.” y/n said as she popped open a can.

“Oh, is that what we are now, ‘mummy’? Dog parents?” Sam looked smug.

As Rose happily lapped up her new beverage, y/n affectionately patted her on the neck: “And you always remember, Rosie girl, beers over boys. Well, I guess your daddy can make an exception but… ‘a healthy amount of beer over any contact with boys*’”.

*1: adapted from I Like For You To Be Still by Pablo Neruda

*2: it is from here (once you see it, you can't unsee it lol

*3: a quote from one of my favourite Youtuber: Christines Snaps

Hey, you've made it!! thank you so much for reading!

here's something more I want to say.

Firstly, the two dogs mentioned are real dogs; sadly they have both crossed the rainbow bridge now. You can read more about them here: Klaus and Huxley. I changed Klaus' story here because I'd like to imagine that having pup cups, going on walks, and having fun with other dogs is the life that he should have been having before his life was unfairly taken away. And I want to honour Huxley. The inspiration for this piece came to me because I relay information for shelter dogs that are listed to be euthanized in high kill shelters. It is absolutely heartbreaking to see how many healthy dogs lose their life at no fault of their own. I have always believed in the power of writing; I myself have been healed by the writings of others in this community many times, and I would like to do something with my writing too. I hope to raise awareness through this piece: There are just too many homeless pups. Please spay and neuter- their lives depend on it; and if you ever want a pet, please always go to the local shelter and check out their euth-list. Saving one dog is not going to change the world, but for that dog, the world is changed forever.

Secondly, about the writing; this is my first time writing Sam and my longest piece. As many of you surely must have noticed there are some loose ends, I apologize. I was emotional while writing this and I dragged it out. Plus, I made the mistake of reading one of the most amazing fanfics ever while writing this. I became self-conscious and kind of defeated---emotions get in the way, so I think this is leaning more towards a cathartic experience. For those that have experienced the pet loss, I am sorry and I feel for you. Please know that they can always feel your love and you will meet one day at the rainbow bridge. I intend to dig into this piece further in the future: perhaps make some more changes and edits, perhaps writing some blurbs between this y/n and Sam. If you would like that, please let me know.

Lastly, sincerely thank you to @dannythedog for the gvf secret santa event. It may sound stupid but that event carried me through my finals and several mental breakdowns. It has not only helped me to connect with so many wonderful people in this fandom, but it has also encouraged me to write. I never would have thought picking up writing again would give me so much closure and comfort. Plus, she did an awesome pairing; I got one of my favourite writers here as my secret santa!! and I got to know Nina.

This is so much longer than I intended. If you have made it here, wow, I am giving you a big big hug. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read my writings. I hope that there are many more to come.

More of my writings: Mariner's Complex || Permission to Fall || Ticked (all my boxes) || The Lucky Ones

(do we want a masterlist or a taglist? let me know :))

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 50

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie returns in to Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is renewed. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something that will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming.

Author's note: This chapter was so fun to write it practically wrote itself! 😂 If you love Katniss’s cracky prep team, you’ve come to the right place.

As always: THANK YOU for your lovely support! The reason why this chapter was published today and not this weekend and so (relatively) fast overall is all thanks to you. You guys totally rock!

Chapter 50, Glimpses of us

”Mama? Mama?”

The voice fluttered into Effie’s dreams.

Head against the sofa cushion, she felt the curious and insistent little hand move across her face.

Five tiny nails softly scratched and she smiled. Kissed the tips of those fingers, eyes still closed.

“Mama?” he repeated his word and as reality tugged at her, came also the other sounds of the room.

The clinking of teaspoons against china. Flavius and Venia’s quiet chatter.

“Mama, no sleep”, firmer now, “up, up!”

“Mm ...” Eyelids heavy, Effie peered at her young son, standing there in front of her.

At one and a half, Ian was getting better and better at walking. A little wobbly sometimes but hardly ever in need of a helping hand anymore.

A reality that hurt a little. Swiftly fly the years and … all that.

It never ceased to amaze her how much he looked like his father. Both of them did.

Big Seam eyes, Haymitch’s gray eyes, looking into her own. A ray of sunlight played in the wispy waves of his strawberry blonde hair.

Hair that had her color and softness, sure, but the disheveled mannerism of those locks definitely came from Haymitch. His side of the family.

The ghost of him was in everything they did. When they laughed or frowned or yawned, he was there even when he wasn’t.

It filled her heart to the brim but as they grew, Amy and Ian, she more and more understood why it triggered Haymitch so much sometimes.

Triggered that old fear he still carried within, despite years and years of peace.

Because the bond between him and his two children was so unquestionable.

So without a doubt.

Had he gotten her pregnant with them during the Games, there would have been no hiding their true heritage. Not from Snow nor anyone else. They'd be goners. Both of them. Just like his first family.

And sometimes she caught Haymitch staring at them, eyes filled with such a mixture of love and bottomless sadness, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Did he see the shadow of his family pass over their features? His mother? His father? His brother?

Ian blinked with long lashes, nudging her cheek again.

“‘ama?”

“Yes my darling? What do you need?”

“Ian, d’ink?”

“You want something to drink?”

“I’m already on it.” Octavia appeared through the kitchen doorway. Smiling, she waved a primrose yellow sippy cup.

“Oh, you slept hard, dear”, Venia said, no longer on the couch but cross-legged on the floor with Amy.

Comfy on her auntie’s lap, with crayons all over the small-sized red table, the girl had a ball drawing wild lines all over the sheets of paper.

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, Effie pulled herself to sitting.

“I didn’t realize you were all still here.”

“Of course we are, sweetie”, Flavius said, laid back against the couch opposite her. Feet crossed by the ankles, he balanced a bowl on his stomach. A generous serving of the fruit salad they brought in earlier. “Couldn’t well leave the twins alone, with you snoozing and snoring away”, he said with a cheeky smile.

“Oona!” Ian again. He held his hands out to Octavia. Octavia and the sippy cup. “Oona, me!”

Octavia giggled.

“There you go, baby.” With a caress of his head, she handed him the sippy cup. “Some yummy-yum milk, straight from District 10.”

The boy instantly put it to his mouth, holding it with both hands. Effie rubbed the remnants of sleep from her eyes and lifted him up. Settled him against her lap.

“I’m sorry. We had something of an ultra-early start today.”

“Oh, you poor soul”, said Octavia. “Here. You need a special treat.”

She reached for her bag and before Effie knew it, the beautician was running a brush through her hair.

Soft of hand, as only Octavia could be. When she wasn’t uprooting leg hair, that was.

The gentle graze of those strokes and Octavia’s long decorated nails were enough for Effie’s eyelids to droop a second time.

Like she was a little girl again.

Then again, when had her mother ever been this mild and tender when it came to getting her hair in order? Probably never.

Effie leaned her cheek against the top of Ian’s head. Arms around her child, she almost nodded off again, when Flavius’s voice brought her back.

“Milk and cookies, milk and cookies.” He sang the words to Ian, with a little wave of his hand that made the beads on his bracelets clink together. “Effie!” he said, excitedly. “Sing them something!”

Effie quenched another yawn. Blinked hard to try and rouse herself for real. “I would”, she said, “but Amy and Ian don’t like it.”

Venia frowned. “That can’t be right.”

“Yes, they love music”, Octavia said. “I’ve seen it.”

“We all have”, Flavius nodded. “And every child enjoys it when their mother sings to them.”

“Not these two”, said Effie. “Believe me, I’ve tried everything.”

“Surely, it can’t be that bad?” said Octavia.

”Yes, you’re probably just exaggerating, dear”, Venia said.

“Come on,” smiled Flavius. “Try it! Sing us something!”

“OK”, Effie sighed. She cleared her throat and with her arms around her little boy, she sang, “When you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.”

“No!” piped Amy from Venia’s lap. She frowned, crayon in hand. The Abernathy frown. The Trinket’s pursed lips.

“Do you know the cheese bun man, the cheese bun man, the …”

“Noo!” Ian clamped a hand over his mother’s mouth. Gray eyes dead serious. “Nuh-uh!”

“See?” Effie said, voice muffled. “Happens every time.”

The prep team just stared at her, and Octavia wasn’t the only one looking a little green.

“Good God.” Flavius set the bowl of fruit back on the coffee table. Like he just lost his appetite.

“Never do that again, please”, Venia said, just as shaken.

“I’m bleeding from the ears”, Octavia winced. “That was absolutely, positively … hang on!” she gasped, so distraught she accidentally pulled Effie’s hair. Voice quivering, she said, “But … but if you’re hopelessly tone deaf then who will sing for the twins, when it’s time to go to bed?”

Effie smiled.

“Why, Haymitch of course. He has a beautiful voice.”

“Really?” Flavius sat up against the cushions. He grinned. “No way! Are you just pulling our legs here?”

“No, not at all. He sings over webcam. We’ve got two widescreens installed in the nurseries. One here and one over at his place. They talk for a couple of hours every week.”

“I didn’t know Haymitch could carry a tune”, said Octavia eagerly. “We thought he had no talents at all! Is he as gifted as dear Katniss?”

“Well”, Effie said, “I don’t know if the mockingjays go silent when he sings but they definitely do when he plays the piano. The piano was always his forte.”

“Outstanding!” Flavius chuckled and his two co-workers joined in.

With a belly full of milk, Ian squirmed and wriggled on his mother’s lap, to let her know he wanted to be put down.

Effie obliged and as soon as his toes touched the rug, the child toddled across the floor and flopped down, waving his sippy cup like a baby’s rattle.

What little liquid left inside, sloshed about.

Two toddlers and only one sippy cup usually meant trouble. Life at the house with the wishing pond was rarely a quiet affair.

But Ian got his hands on a train engine belonging to their wooden railroad set and Amy was consumed by her drawing.

An odd sense of calm, a peacefulness, settled over the room. Even with the prep team present.

Or maybe because of them.

Outside, was a winter wonderland. Snow had fallen well into February.

All of the Capitol – the houses, the Barrage, Cupid’s Garden, the Fountains of Youth – everything was covered in white.

Thick blankets that glimmered and shone. Especially on days like this.

Effie poured herself some more tea, while Octavia worked magic on her hair. With skilled hands she parted sections of it, braided it, attaching pins. Butterfly clips.

Fresh logs crackled on the hearth. Flames dancing. Such a soothing sound.

Reminded her of home.

She was almost as deft with her fires as Haymitch now. Almost. If Katniss and Peeta timed them, he’d still win. When he was sober.

“The sweet dears.” You could tell just by Octavia’s voice that she was looking at the twins. “Effie”, she said dreamily, “do you think you and Haymitch will have any more children?”

Taken aback by the sudden, straight-forward question, Effie didn’t sputter the tea all over the table. But she did struggle a bit to swallow what was already in her mouth.

“M-more children?”

“Yes, just think about it!” Octavia said in an eager voice. “A little brother or sister to Amy and Ian. It would be so cute! And you already have the world’s greatest babysitters, right here in this room!”

“I second that!” smiled Venia.

Goodness. Effie settled her cup back on its plate. It rattled, despite her great efforts.

Another baby. Another child coming into the picture.

Out of the question, of course – of course! – but she had no sooner thought it before an image flashed into her head. There and gone again. Like lightning.

And it hit her with such a violent pang of longing, it made her head swim.

Herself in Haymitch’s bed. His bare chest against her back. The warmth of him so close. His whispers in her hair and his hand: caressing her big, round belly. His son or daughter.

Their son or daughter.

“Well?” smiled Flavius, bringing Effie back to herself in a blink. “Don’t you want any more children?”

Effie swallowed, turning a little pink.

“I …” She gave her head a slight shake, as if to clear it. “I think I’m getting too old for all that.”

“Oh, stuff and nonsense!” Venia waved her hand at her. “You’ve got several years left, sweetie. I mean, you still get your period every month, don’t you?”

“I say, do it!” Octavia beamed. “Maybe next time he visits?”

”When will Haymitch show his unconventional face here again?” Flavius asked. “It’s been a minute.”

“Oh, he was just here actually.” Effie jumped on the opportunity to change the subject. “Went back to District 12 the day before yesterday.”

Octavia sucked a breath.

“And you didn’t invite us?!”

“Effie, how could you?” Venia clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“We’re some of your closest, most precious friends”, Flavius whined and pouted his bottom lip. Just like the twins, when they felt wronged.

Effie gave a quiet smile.

“Some other time.” She pointed out the window, unable to nod – what with Octavia working wonders on her hair. “The snowmen out front were his idea. And the snow lantern and the snow cave.”

“Oh, yeah.” Flavius craned his neck. “I was wondering what that was.”

Haymitch’s energy that day was outstanding. The mere memory of it made her smile.

Sometime during that first night over, he tiptoed into her room and confiscated not only the baby monitor but her alarm clock as well.

So, when Effie finally came to, she’d slept a whooping 12 hours. For the first time ever in her life.

Dressed in robes and pink slippers she then went on a search for her misplaced family.

The kitchen was in chaos. Table holding the remnants of breakfast. She just poured herself a cup of coffee when their voices fluttered from outside.

“Ah, there she is”, Haymitch said when she appeared in the doorway moments later. “About time, princess.”

Amy and Ian were both dressed in their snowsuits, with mittens and pixie caps on. The girl stood by the apple tree, poking a white branch with a carrot. She giggled when a cloud of crystals billowed up.

The boy – apple-cheeked and with the pacifier propped in his mouth – stood not far from his father. Ankle-deep in a drift of snow, he scooped some up.

“Dada?” he said and held it out to him.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Haymitch formed the fistful into a little ball, crouched down and started rolling it forward along the ground.

He’d already made one snowman, over by the pond. While the second waited patiently for a head.

Haymitch eyed the garden critically, then their neighbor’s. “Hm. I might have to steal some”, he said. “It can’t be helped.”

Effie smiled.

“It snowed all through the night, didn’t it? I think it’s safe to say we have enough.”

“Don’t count on it, princess. We need one for each of us.”

“You’re building four snowmen?”

“Six. Katniss and Peeta are part of this family too, aren’t they? So you better go put some clothes on, Effs. Help us out.”

“Oh, I’ll just supervise as usual”, she said, unconcerned. “When you need a break, I’ll make you some cocoa and sandwiches, how about that?”

“Nice try, sweetheart”, Haymitch said. “No lazybones on my watch. Gotta be good role models here. Now put a jacket on or something before you freeze your sweet tush off. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that.

When it was almost time for lunch, Haymitch excused himself for a bathroom break.

A pretend bathroom break probably. For when he returned, he carried with him something curly and pink and very familiar.

Effie laughed when she saw it.

“Where did you find that?”

Haymitch shrugged.

“People need to know which one of ‘em are you.” He crouched by the children, presented the wig to their curious eyes and hands. “See this one here?” he said in his soft dad voice. “This is what your mama used to wear … in her crazy old days. Yeah, she was wild back then.”

“Oh, that’s cute”, said Effie, but her eyes creased with laughter.

She then of course wanted Haymitch’s beanie for the other snowman, but Haymitch held on to it.

“Nah, I need it, sweetheart. Only got one, remember? If I go ‘round bareheaded, I might catch pneumonia.”

“Oh no, we can’t have that”, smiled Effie and pulled the beanie further down his ears.

Amy and Ian liked the snow – they hadn’t seen a lot of it during their young lives, after all – but they enjoyed their cocoa and sandwiches even better.

That was another trait they got from their father.

Effie had been something of a picky eater when she was their age, but the twins’ appetite for food was almost as great as Haymitch’s.

They sat together at the mouth of the snow cave, having a picnic of sorts. Effie pouring the chocolate and Haymitch, with one child on each knee.

Whenever he visited, it was like their mother didn’t exist.

Bath time, play time, bedtime. It was daddy all the way.

Like right now.

Nestled in his strong, safe embrace, the two of them munched away on uncle Peeta’s breads with cheese and tomato, peanut butter and banana and all was right with the world.

It annoyed Mrs Pluckrose to no end.

Throughout the day Effie kept spotting her just at the corner of her eye. Those hard stares, all but burning holes through the snow rimmed windows.

She couldn’t recall ever seeing Virginia and Carl doing something together, just for the fun of it – with or without their son – and they were married.

Maybe that’s what rubbed her the wrong way. Like: “How dare you get along with your ex and flaunting your two little mistakes like that?!”

And Mrs Pluckrose wasn’t the only member of the family who was interested in their affairs.

Timmy.

Ever since he got home, the young boy came up with one excuse after another that allowed him to leave the house, no matter how short a moment.

He took out the garbage. Swept the snow off the front step. Dusted what looked like an old bathmat or the kind of rug you put under a Christmas tree.

And every time, his eyes fluttered their way when he thought they weren’t looking.

It must be the cocoa, Effie thought. She doubted his mother ever let him have anything sweet like that.

And true enough. When Timmy finally came up short on excuses, he cleared his throat and asked in a bashful, yet hopeful voice,

“Can I have some chocolate?”

But before Effie or Haymitch had a chance to reply, the door slammed open. Mrs Pluckrose. Face flushed with anger.

“Go to your room!” Clouds of white smoke billowed from her mouth. “Now, Timmy!”

“Wow”, murmured Haymitch, when it was just the four of them again. His voice wasn’t even angry. Or annoyed. “It’s like hearing Gertrude with Peeta when he was little. Boy, could that woman’s voice carry.”

“All done!” Octavia piped, waking Effie from her daydream. “Look, Flavius! Venia! What do you think?”

“Nice!” Venia nodded in approval.

“You look like a million bucks, love.” Flavius gave Effie a playful wink. “Too bad Haymitch isn’t here this evening. He wouldn’t be able to resist!”

“Well.” Octavia joined her on the couch. She patted Effie’s hand with a warm smile. “Whether you do have more children or keep things as they are, you simply must let us do your hair for the wedding!”

“Your nails and makeup too”, reminded Venia. “We’ll make it something extra special!”

“And don’t you worry, dear”, Flavius said. “Haymitch will be clean-shaven that day. I’ll wrestle him to the ground if I have to!”

“It’s all just soo romantic!” Octavia clasped Effie’s hands to her own heart. “Very Beauty and the Beast. You’ll have a summer wedding, obviously, and Amy and Ian can be flower children.”

“Will you take Haymitch’s last name once you’re man and wife?” asked Venia.

“I always thought ‘Haymitch Trinket’ had a certain endearing ring to it”, Flavius said, admiring himself in a teaspoon.

“Or a double surname, like your children!” Octavia beamed.

“Yes!” Venia said with enthusiasm. “Double surnames are so sophisticated, don’t you agree?”

“Especially yours, Venia”, Octavia said with glittering eyes.

“You think so?” The woman’s face lit up like a birthday candle. “I think so too.”

All three faces turned Effie’s way, eagerly awaiting her answer.

”Oh.” Effie rubbed her forehead, a little overwhelmed by this sudden exchange. “I’m sorry to disappoint you all, but Haymitch and I … we’re not getting married.”

“EVER?!” the prep team burst, all at once.

“Oh honey …” Venia shook her head in disappointment, softly caressing Amy’s hair. “I know we’re living in modern times, but … is your plan seriously to live in sin until you’re both about ready to scatter each other’s ashes?”

“But we’re not”, Effie said. “Living in sin, I mean.”

The prep team looked at each other.

“I’m confused”, said Octavia.

“So, what you’re saying is you’re like …”, Flavius grappled for the words, “engaged and you … decided to wait or …?”

“No, we’re just not having intimate relations. Not of any kind. Period. We’re simply not a couple anymore.” Effie’s eyes flitted around the room. Octavia’s bag, the hand mirror jutting out from it. “Oh, can I borrow that?” she asked, in a desperate attempt to try and change the subject.

But the prep team wasn’t letting her go that easily.

Octavia handed her the mirror and, with worry etched into every word, she asked,

“Then who’s keeping you warm? You’re sleeping with someone, right? Sometimes?”

“No.” Cheeks flushed, Effie peered at herself in the mirror. “Oh, that’s beautiful, Octavia. One of your best works yet.”

When there was no response, Effie could not not look up.

Three pairs of eyes were all trained on her. Stunned into silence. Mouths open in horror.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me.” She tried a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Flavius rasped. “When was the last time you did it?”

“Um …”

“Good God.” His eyes flitted to the twins and back again, face growing pale. “Are you telling us”, he whispered, “you haven’t had sex in over two years? Y-you haven’t done the deed since you conceived??”

“Effie, that can’t be true!” Venia said. “Tell us it isn’t true!”

“No, no, it’s not …”

“Oh!” Flavius’s hand flew to his chest. “Thank God!” he panted, eyes closed. “Effie, you scared me!”

“… we did it a couple of months into my pregnancy as well”, Effie finished her sentence. “One time. But given our history and the fact that the twins were about to join our lives, we decided it was better to just stay friends.”

“Oh my goood!” Octavia buried her face in her hands.

“Effie, that’s terrible!” Flavius exclaimed, on the verge of crying too. “Even Venia’s got more action than that!”

“It’s true”, Venia nodded.

“I’ve already had sex four times this week! What’s even the point in having a baby daddy if you can’t make love to him? I mean, sure, Haymitch isn’t the hottest bulb on the Christmas tree, but he’s got a certain … rustic charm. If you’re into that. I mean, hell, if the archangel appeared and told me the world would end unless I slept with Haymitch Abernathy, I’d do it. For sure. For sure.”

“It’s … it’s a little more complicated than that”, Effie said.

“But why?” asked Octavia. “I don’t under… oh!” She clasped a hand over her mouth, when an even more fearsome thought struck. “Is he bad in bed?” she whispered.

“No, no, he’s not bad in bed.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Venia asked. “You get along just fine. There’s a spark. You’re not seeing anyone else. You have two beautiful children together. What on Earth’s stopping you? He’s the only man you ever really wanted, right?”

“You should take him out on a date!” Octavia beamed. “A real proper one. Dinner someplace nice, candlelight and then home for some extended afternoon delight to make up for all the time you’ve wasted. We can watch the children over at my place.”

“On a scale of one to Capitol”, Flavius again, “how would you rate Haymitch’s lovemaking skills? It’s always the quiet ones, right?”

And the three of them giggled like crazy.

But it wasn’t a mean laugh. Not even a little.

“Let’s … let’s just talk about something else. OK?” Effie cleared her throat. “Octavia, how are your pet mice? Have you taught them any new tricks lately?”

“Aaw!” Octavia chuckled. “Look at her cheeks! So red, haha! That is the face of someone who used to get some pretty big Os!”

Flavius grinned and brushed away an amused tear before it tilted down his cheekbone.

He added some sugar to his already candy-sweet tea and said,

”Crying shame. The dating market is vicious and here you are, with a man who already adores and cherishes you and basically eats out the palm of your hand and then you don’t want him? What a waste.”

“Well, if Effie’s not interested”, Venia said, “maybe we can fix him up with someone who is?”

“Yes!” Octavia clapped her hands together at the suggestion. “What an intriguing idea!”

“Hm, let’s think.” Flavius tapped a pondering fingertip against his powdered cheek. “Who do we know who’s desperate enough to go out with a man like Haymitch Abernathy?”

“Oh, oh! I know!” Octavia said. “How about that nice girl from …”

“No!”

The word all but exploded from Effie’s lips. So sudden and unexpected, they all looked up. Amy and Ian included.

“I … I mean …” Effie blushed crimson, looking between the three. She swallowed. “Don’t bother yourselves with all that. Haymitch he … he … his sex drive plummets during the winter months. Yes! It’s the same every year. He won’t be interested in any of that before the snow melts. Probably not come spring either”, she added after a moment’s pause. “You’d only be wasting your precious time.”

“Ah, Haymitch, Haymitch.” Flavius shook his head. “Always was a freak of nature.”

Author's note: Poor Effie. Just for the record, I do not approve of the prep team shoving their pansexual ideas down her throat. 😂 They do love her though.

And, in case you wondered if Gertrude Mellark was named after the queen mother in "Hamlet": Yep, she totally was! 😉

[veryconfusedunlabeledguy]

Talk Hockey to Me

(a game of tags)

i was tagged by @starscelly tysm king i give you a respectable high five

1. The thing that got you hooked on hockey

the second game i went to! the first one was good for sure (we got the fun lil borgy and matty christmas tree video during one of the breaks) but the second one!! i actually looked into stuff and it was everything ig you’d want from a game? my team won, we had some fun lil fights idk.. and then afterwards i stumbled upon rpf which. game changer lowkey (i read several fics having no idea what any of the people i was reading about looked like which was fun but we figured it out)

2. Your first ever fandom friend

i think probably cel tbf? and i have an irl friend who’s into hockey but i think there’s a strong chance they’re more normal about it than i am

3. The jersey you would most like to own

oooof tough question. either a stars jersey or a devils jersey i think. i’m hesitant to get one that’s a specific player’s bc i don’t want to have one for a team that they get traded from (looks pointedly at my several month-old un-customized kraken jersey) the ever changing world of sportssss

4. YOUR player (you only get ONE so choose wisely)

i am not choosing. you cannot make me. (it changes too often)

5. A pairing that deserves more fic

rn my answer is cyork/tfoerster but a week ago my answer was probably 2339 and two weeks ago my answer was probably 1053 and before that it was probably 2072 and before that it was probably scasey/gbrindley and before that it was probably nmoyle/nblankenburg and before that… (i’m stopping now but i could go on)

6. Your favorite on ice moment

oh gosh… i don’t really think i have a particular answer! i’m a cellies girlie who enjoys when the little men hit each other so. if any of my blorbos have ever done any of that sort of thing that can be my favorite (yes this a very general answer no i don’t care) actually maybe slaf’s first goal celly that wasn’t a celly so much as it was him cursing at zach brown ((?)i think that was who it was)

~link someone else’s art/fic/etc that you love and think everyone should check out~

i have yet to figure out how to link things so instead i will give you names and authors and you will take them. okay? okay.

still burnt from kissing your face by teethtilt (1053 fic with THE most delectable descriptions… i have never been more engaged by snow cones and swelteringly warm days)

tumblr user @/starscelly’s band au. (special shout-out to his one piece where wyatt is sat at a merch stand with the best body language you’ve ever seen)

on the banks of kettle creek by honeydripping (tknp fic that is soooo yummy. the way the author describes smells? ooof you don’t even know)

two thousand miles away, but i can see you by lovethygoalie (kraken magic fic that is very fun. gobbling up the way the author writes dynamics)

after hours by kerfluffle (cam/tyson fic that is very yay. if there is next to nothing in their tag at least we have the works of kerfluffle who is fantastic)

cool summers by counthestars (rule63 umich fic that has my heart. it literally feels like summer in my brain and i’m obsessed)

any xhekuraj fic by novembrs (loveee their trans arber fics never not thinking about them)

this was probably too many and i could go on! but it’s my response to an ask game and i do what i want

~link something you made and are proud of/want people to see~

again drk how to link things but my art tag is ‘me and my knack of making people look ~almost~ right’ or something like that and i also like my dream tag (vcug’s hockey dreams) just bc it’s fun. not really proud of it i just enjoy how my subconscious produces absolute bullshit

tagging @spiceberrie but no pressure if you don’t want to do this!

[onewomancitadel]

If they do canonize Jaune/Weiss, would you still stick with the series until it's conclusion?

I think the ordinary assumption is that it would be the product of a ship tantrum if I didn't, but because there's so much tied up in Jaune/Cinder and so much that Jaune/Weiss doesn't work with, it's not really just a ship tantrum. I won't deny that wouldn't be part of it, but the general assumption is that shipping is unserious and probably indicates, on some level, one being in a position of textual ignorance. I think that broadly speaking this can be true (I've spectated my fair share of fandom, and I have grown up in fandom myself) but equally it can also be levied as an insult, because romance is silly.

But equally so if I did quit the show in such a circumstance, I'm not working with a level of entitlement here. I wouldn't be mad at it in the sense of them owing me something; I would just have to acknowledge I was either wrong in assigning meaning where there wasn't, or there simply wasn't the thematic consistency there.

I think it's very likely that Ozlem does motivate all of the romances, it's just a matter of to what degree. It's very easy to write Ruby/Oscar, Ren/Nora, Blake/Yang, and then give Jaune a joke romance which kind of happens offscreen/all of a sudden. Just because you have x consistency here doesn't mean it's everywhere else because storytelling is organic and elastic, and sometimes, as an analyst, you can actually put together implicit parallels better than the author(s). Or as I've discussed previously before with Reverse Ozlem, you need to make a positive case for why Jaune/Cinder would be a positive resolution (and not a cautionary or altogether unromantic one).

It's worth mentioning that I have literally quit the show once before! I was inoculated in the shitty end of the fandom during V5 and when everybody was busy mocking the end of the volume (because Haven was admittedly messy) and then celebrating Cinder's death - and her apparent permadeath - I just shrugged and quit because I feared they were right and it was all over. This probably explains some of my antipathy towards fandom and fanon at large because it genuinely ruined my experience of the show and made me doubt my intuition. Does that mean fandom/fandon is bad for everyone? No, I needed to grow a spine, but I take issue with fanon at large anyway.

What accompanies Jaune/Cinder isn't just the romantic pairing but the way it realises Cinder's redemption arc and what I think the pairing represents for the major resolution of Ozlem. It might not be obvious, but I am really invested in the bad wizards who were once in love and made it everybody else's problem, and I want to see them be together again even if that reunion means they shortly pass after. The cosmic wound of Ozlem is one of my favourite things in the show (reincarnated lovers and ceaseless conflict... yummy yummy) and is genuinely what holds the story together thematically and foundationally. It's a huge deal. So the things that interest me about R/WBY are all tied up in Jaune/Cinder. Everything I really love about the show (its unique but totally flagged narrative direction) is there, and is part of what I think motivates the argumentation of the ship!

This isn't something contrary to R/WBY's storytelling! Tonal dissonance is a common issue I see in shipping fandoms. But there's nothing about Jaune/Cinder that refutes R/WBY; it's actually the opposite. It's very playful conceptually. Built right into it is this sense of dramatic and cosmic irony with a very fun remix on knight and maiden which is painful but also very beautiful. Jaune is literally no Prince Charming, and Cinder is a villainess (who is very sad).

So I guess if the stuff I love about R/WBY isn't there, what's the point? Lol. You could try to argue that redeemed Ozlem is still possible without Jaune/Cinder, but I don't think it would be nearly as impactful without it, and like - separately - for Jaune and Cinder's characters, if he's paired with Weiss then they just don't get him the way I do and the way I thought they did, and if Cinder's alone I'll cry forever. The truth is that nobody's ever loved you. I genuinely do not know whom else you could pair her with, and it's very likely in this scenario there would be no one. Even if she got a redemption arc (which again, would be fumbled without the romance and not nearly as impactful. Jaune/Cinder is so unlikely when Cinder's redemption is similarly so 'unlikely').

I get it. This is a long way to cry and stomp my feet and say, "I'll quit if they don't make my dollies kiss!" and it probably comes off pretty poorly. But honestly, R/WBY won me over with Ozlem and it won me over with its story and its spirit. I find Jaune/Weiss insipid irrespective of whether I shipped Jaune/Cinder (long before I got into the ship I never liked it). It compromises both Jaune and Weiss' characters and I can't parse how it's supposed to work and it would just suggest laziness. It breaks a lot of modes of my analysis (e.g. Jung). I like Jaune/Cinder because it augments their characters, not weakens them. It actually gives Jaune something unique to do in the story that isn't stand there and look tall and actually explains why he's in this fucking story to begin with and why they'd spend so much development on him. I don't like that Jaune/Weiss turns Weiss into a passive recipient who's finally noticed the nice patient guy and now he gets the girl as a reward. It would speak to some serious storytelling stupidity.

I've quit once and I'll do it again. Lol. Maybe I would wait for the show to be finished to analyse the fallout a few years later. I take a while to get around to things anyway. But also like, my trust in storytelling is completely dead, and it's actually an extremely emotionally difficult position to be arguing for Jaune/Cinder and extremely uncharacteristic of me. So as much as people probably don't want me here, I kind of don't want to be here either. But I like the ship that much. Very sad.

On the other hand... let's define 'canonise'. I think that at this point, Salem/Ozma, Ren/Nora, and Blake/Yang are undeniably canon. Ozlem since V6 (but they broke up), RN since... I want to say they're canon in the sense they both have romantic feelings for each other and we've always known this to some degree (some childhood friend tropes in anime lead to them never admitting feelings? And the RN spin on it seems to be that they've acknowledged how they feel and will 'grow up' but likely end up back together), and BB, well I personally would've said it was canon back in V6, but most of fandom would definitely agree V9. Ruby/Oscar by contrast is a little more controversial, but I would say that it's canon if you're paying attention. The only reason to write Oscar in the way they did would be as a super special love interest looool. But say, Blake/Sun isn't 'canon' in the traditional sense of being endgame, Blake/Ilia isn't 'canon' in the traditional sense either, etc., and there are times the fandom has celebrated things being canon when they're not (reminder: the whole 'Cinder is definitely dead' thing, and largely I would say a lot of the discussion surrounding Blake/Sun at the time of V4/5 treated it like it was a foregone conclusion. Plus most of the bad fanon).

So I think a lot of people might think Jaune/Weiss is now canon after V9 - and I'm willing to allow that this is what the writers believe to be appropriate development because they abandoned that thread for so many volumes and never even had small interactions like Ruby/Oscar or fucking anything, and as such it effectively amounts to either an about-turn or lazy storytelling - I'm in the position where I'm willing to question it. Between now and V10, my only intention is to complete my fanfic, that is, my works-in-progress currently posted, and then assess how much I am able to write and complete in the interim. I just want to make the most of the time I've got. As I remarked in a V9 reflection post, there is actually... not a lot refuted about anything I speculated in the post-V8 period surrounding Knightfall and Cinder's redemption, if not it has been lent more foreshadowing. So I'm not needing to fashion a new position yet.

There are certain things I'm looking for with R/WBY canonshipping, and things like close and intimate hugs (Ruby-Penny) do not constitute that, and they do like engaging in shipbaiting, to my eternal consternation. But what I like about the R/WBY canon ships are the actual emotional stakes, not the superficial fluffy shit. So if I have some hope they are capable of that...

If Jaune/Weiss met my standard for analysing other definitely canon R/WBY ships (independent of Jaune/Cinder) I would give up the ghost and admit defeat with shipping Jaune/Cinder and then yes, I'd quit the show. I don't care if that sounds petty. Jaune/Cinder isn't just a ship to me. I only started shipping it because these are the things I like about R/WBY, not the other way around.

Thanks for your ask anon. It's a good one.

[septembersghost]

I feel like the biggest reason why harry and justin aren't comparable because he seems like he sees music as a 'job' instead of 'passion'? I never got a vibe from justin that he is passionate about it as a craft or have that connection to it like harry. Harry seems like a musical equivalent of bookworm. He puts so much thought in what to put out,how the listener would feel,or how to put himself in his music while justin (to me atleast) seems like he wants hits and no 1 s. (His stunt to get yummy no 1🙄). Harry is an album artist through and through to the point where he is incapable of putting a perfectly good song in an album if it feels out of place in an album. I think this is the biggest reason why harry doesn't do deluxes. He wants an album listen to be an experience. He focuses more on leaving a mark as an artist rather than a hitmaker. He makes music because he loves it(kid harpoon talked about harry wanting to work during lockdown and he thought harry was crazy for that). He talked about his songs as his little babies. He talks about music as if it's a language on its own (greatest unspoken dialogue😭) or a cosmic force beyond our control. He talked in depth how the most intriguing thing to write about is loneliness. Justin (again to me) feels like a singles artist more than album one. (Sorry if this is a mess. I am not exactly the most articulate person in the room .I know this has a lot of controversial takes. Which is why I am 100% okay if you don't agree with me or post it)

i have never followed him closely, and admittedly know barely any of his music, so i can't speak with any real authority here, but i think it's possible he was passionate about it as a kid and then got burned out from the pressure/stress/intense fame and so forth. he's never been surrounded by people really fostering his art or even him as a person. being a hitmaker is certainly an accomplishment and i don't deny he's achieved that many times, but i'm not sure music is his lifeblood. whereas, whatever anyone may want to think about him, music is that for h. he's always writing or honing his craft or immersed in music in some way (and i think calling him a bookworm is fairly accurate, he's a bookworm in general!). He wants an album listen to be an experience. yes, and you can feel each element of that when you listen to them straight through as intended. i suspect you're right about his reasons for not doing deluxes too, he sees them as complete works and isn't interested in changing that. he loves music with all his soul and that emanates from him (and seeing that exist very clearly was what made me connect to him in the first place. that will always get me in an artist!). explorations of love and loneliness are such staples of music because they're such constant parts of humanity, and every artist very invested in that unlocks it differently.

h wanting to work and write during lockdown makes perfect sense to me and i have to laugh a little that anyone around him who knows him well would wonder at the reason for that. kid harpoon, if i may call you tom, sir, you KNOW this man!

I am not exactly the most articulate person in the room. you're just fibbing to me in my askbox?! pls. you are SO articulate and this was a thoughtful way of looking at this!!! <3

He talks about music as if it's a language on its own (greatest unspoken dialogue😭) or a cosmic force beyond our control. tbh i believe it often IS its own magical, emotive, complex language and a cosmic force beyond our control. as my darling zoe says: music transcends our existence.

[embraceyourfandom]

My two satangs: Make yourself a plan. Good way is to go to some Thai course pages and copy their syllabus/course programs. Based on those, make your own list of things to learn, be it topics or grammar points. When you have learned, say, basic greetings, mark that done. This will make your studying more structured and also will give you stronger sense of going forward when you see how much you have already learned.

I don't say it is necessary to start with the Thai script, because many people don't. However, I learned the writing system pretty early on, because I got fed up with the inadequate and confusing jumble of transliteration systems. I recommend Thai Pod's videos (youtube) for this. I watched the videos about writing, while writing down everything. I also downloaded app Write it! Thai, which was a great simple way to exercise the consonants. And then I just scribbled away all kinds of words or just letters in different sizes and colours and filled couple of notebooks with them. Repetition is the key after all. I wrote down Thai subtitles and translated them, I wrote down song lyrics and translated those. I copied wikipedia pages of stuff I am interested in. With subs and lyrics and other texts I wrote first the line in Thai, then transliteration on next line and under that the translation. Idk, handwriting just works for me, so I do that a lot. The app I have been using for cramming basic vocabulary is Fun Easy Learn. You can use it with or without transliterations. After trying several others I found that it works for me. It may be for you or it may not, we are all different in what works for us.

Try vocatching (my own word: short for vocabulary watching) Watch your fave series again and when you see something interesting based on the subs, a word, a saying, figure it out and write it down. You may have to go back and forth a couple of times and then hunt the word or saying from the online dictionaries, but it will get easier when you get better at listening. I have an excel sheet full of stuff I have picked from series or books or news or where-ever and it is kinda awesome way to remember words, because they automatically have strong context. Read aloud. Those subs, those song lyrics, what ever. Repeat things people say in the series aloud. Infographics are amazing in learning vocabulary around certain topic. Google picture hunt! Figuring out good search terms in Thai is an exercise in itself. I basically go infographics hunting whenever I have some subject that I am learning in life in general. Doing chemical safety test? Also finding Thai infographics about chemical safety! Try that yummy Thai khanom you saw in the series, but instead of picking English recipe from the internet, take a Thai one and translate it first.

Great Youtube channel I warmly recommend for exercising listening: https://www.youtube.com/@ComprehensibleThai There are so many channels teaching Thai and you should to take a look at others, too, of course. Find what suits you. There is also great podcast You Too Can Learn Thai, which I like a lot. (Khru Nan ❤️) I also started listening podcasts in Thai language quite early on, just to get used to listening Thai. I really like already finished https://thestandard.co/podcast_channel/happiness/, where the topic is different aspects of happiness. The author has such a pleasant voice and he speaks very clearly. Also ongoing podcast วันนี้เป็นยังไงบ้าง (=How are you today?) is my fave. Interestingly, that also revolves around happiness, more or less. This may seem a lot, but I believe in multiangle approach in learning in general. It is imho important to have many ways you can study, so that you don't get bored. And also it gives information different anchoring points in your memory when you receive it in different forms. Okay, I have babbled a lot. I wish you fun times with Thai, which I know you will have, because it is a wonderful, wonderful language. Feel free to knock my internet door any time. 😊

I have been meaning to learn Thai but I don't know how to go about doing this I wonder if any of you have any advice for me.

I have been trying an app that's called drops but I don't feel like I'm learning as much as I hoped I would

[thewhizzyhead]

a non-filipino's guide to trese: ep 1

So some of my mutuals decided to check out Trese aka the Netflix adaptation of the Filipino horror comic book series that I keep rambling about here and then since well um most of my mutuals aren’t from the Philippines fshfs I decided to make a long-ass post that basically consists of me rambling about the cultural context present in Trese with fun little tidbits about Filipino folklore. I’m not an expert on Filipino mythology so um I just typed out the stuff that I know and the stuff that I looked up on Wikipedia so um take this with a grain of salt aaaaa I’ll save the extensive google scholar research ramble on folklore present in Trese for another day.

I’ll try to find the sites where I got some of the information from cause um yea I kinda had a bit of a hard time finding the other shit so um once again, take the stuff here with a grain of salt. Also, feel free to add more info if you guys got any!

SO ANYWAYS ENJOY ME RAMBLING ABOUT EPISODE 1 OF TRESE WOO

+ MRT and LRT (Manila Metro Rail Transit and Light Rail Transit) are train systems in NCR (the capital region) and yea them suddenly stopping and malfunctioning in the middle of the goddamn rail is a daily occurrence and we have been trying to deal with this bullshit for years but alas, corruption and negligence are sweet sweet drugs.

+ When the MRT broke down, you'd see a red bee in the flashing billboard right? Well that's Jollibee and that's probably the most well-known fast food restaurant chain here heck there are even branches of it abroad!

+ According to many youtube comments along with other social media posts that I am way too tired to link here, the opening theme is an Ifugao ethnic song called Balluha'd Bayyauhen but with modern accompaniments and I think the song is about a fruit called a balluha that the character in the song tries to it but cannot swallow. (someone please correct me if I’m wrong here fjkfs)

+ The first um monster that we see Alexandra interact with is the White Lady of Balete Drive. White Ladies or “Kaperosa” are a type of female ghosts typically dressed in ghostly white dresses or similar garments. According to legend, she died in a car accident while driving along Balete Drive (a two lane street formerly lined with Balete Trees which are said to be a home for spirits and mysterious creatures) in Quezon City while other accounts say she died waiting for the arrival of her lover; others also say that she was a teenage girl who was run over and killed by a taxi driver at night and then buried around a Balete tree while another variation of the tale claims that a student from the University of the Philippines was sexually assaulted and killed by a taxi driver nearby and so said ghost haunts the street in search of her murderer. There are many other variations but according to local rumor, the legend was fabricated by a reporter in 1953 in order to make an interesting story. What remains consistent in many variations is that apparently taxi drivers would be stopped by a beautiful lady asking for a ride and if one would look at the rear window, they would see that the white lady in question is bruised and drenched in blood.

+ There are a lot of mentions about "lakans" and stuff in reference to Alex and her father right? In precolonial times, the term is used to refer to the paramount ruler or the highest-ranking political authorities in Tagalog communities (so um NCR and some parts of Region 4). In Muslim communities, they are called sultans while communities with strong trade connecitons with Indonesia or Malaysia called them Rajah. Datu is umm the more generalized term though when it comes to discussing the leaders of the precolonial Filipinos.

+ So, Alex’s mom is a babaylan and back in the pre-colonial period, each barangay (which a native filipino term for a village or a district; said term is still used today to describe um divisions in municipalities like) had them and these are basically Philippine shamans and they specialized in communicating with the spirits of the dead. To my knowledge, the role of babaylan went to women and yea people assigned male at birth but then identified as female were also allowed to become babaylans and they would be treated with the same respect given to any woman back then (honestly I dunno much about lgbtq+ stuff back in the precolonial times but all I know is that precolonial Filipinos were much a lot more welcoming towards trans identities bUT THEN THE SPANIARDS CAME AND UM ERR RUINED THAT); also the writing Alexandra's mom did in that one scene with the dagger is in Baybayin - preHispanic Filipino script. I dunno what she wrote down though. .

+ Also I kinda find it funny that the people here esp those who were at the White Lady scene are um,,, not at all surprised? Like yea quite a number of filipinos have their own superstitions and beliefs and all that but um yea the people in Trese seem very used to the bullshit,,,which in retrospect, isn't at all inaccurate fsdfd I MEAN WE DEAL WITH UNSURMOUNTABLE AMOUNTS OF BS ON A DAILY BASIS SO I DON’T THINK DEAD GHOSTS WOULD EVEN FAZE MANY FSKJDS

+ The one that appears right before Alexandra talks with the duwende (the one in the manhole) is called Laman Lupa (which i guess translates to um "What is in the earth"? just um YEA THEY ARE DIRT CREATURES). normally this is an umbrella term for duwendes and nunos but in Trese they are servants of these aforementioned creatures.

+ Duwende (which came from the Spanish phrase "dueno de case" which means "owner of the house") or dwarves in Filipino folklore are known to be mischievous and magical environmental guardians. They are believed to reside in trees or under earth mounds (those that live in the latter are called nuno sa pundo or old man of the mount) which is why quite a lot of Filipinos say "tabi tabi po" or “excuse me” when wandering around a forest or earth mounds as a sign of respect and in the hopes the duwende won't torment them. If the person is friendly, the duwende can also be friendly in return and will bring that person good lucl; otherwise, those who destroy their homes by stepping on them will face their wrath in form of heartless curse and predictions of ominous and disastrous fates. A duwende's color also depends on their budhi or conscience: to my knowledge, white duwendes are kind, red ones give protection amulets, green ones are firnedly with children and the black ones give nothing but trouble.

+ Chocnut aka the snack Alex bribes the nuno with is a very yummy chocolate snack made of coconut milk, crushed peanuts and cocoa powder. They are umm about an inch in length and maybe half an inch in width so it's fairly small; that being said I WANT THE CHOCNUT THAT ALEXANDRA HAS CAUSE HOT DAMN THAT'S A BIG CHOCNUT

+ In Trese, the creatures in the MRT scene and in the warehouse Alexandra visits after she talks with the duwende are called "aswang". In Philippine folklore, it is an umbrella term for any kind of monster so um an aswang in Luzon would be very different from the aswang in Mindanao. According to what I saw on wikipedia, they can be classified in 5 categories: the vampire (self-explanatory um they drink blood), the viscera sucker (the manananggal, i'll get to that next time), the weredog (cats and pigs are also possible but um yea they target pregnant women), the witch (self-explanatory boom curses and stuff) and the ghoul (they gather near trees in cemeteries to feast on human corpses). Aswangs are often described to have a long, hollow tongue, sharp claws and sharp teeth, although they do also have human forms.

+ To my knowledge, Ibwa, the leader of the aswangs in the warehouse, is a creature from Tinguian or Itneg mythology (they, like the Ifugao, are an indigenous ethnic group in northwestern Luzon) though I could be wrong about this dksfsf Ibwa seems like an ethnic filipino term tho wah I can't remember where I once read that. But anyways, Ibwa often stalk sthe house of a dying person to steal its body. In order for the ibwa to NOT succeed in that, some people burn holes in the garments of the dead and put a sharp iron object on top of the grave since those are most powerful weapons against aswangs which is what Alexandra uses to subdue the Ibwa and kill all the other aswangs (the knife alex uses is named Sinag which means "ray of light".)

+ ALSO I AM SO SO GLAD THEY KEPT THE FILIPINO SWEARS IN THE ENGLISH DUB YES YES THIS IS A VERY GOOD JOB so lemme discuss the versatility of tangina-

+ Also umm Bossing is a nickname of Vic Sotto - one of the three pioneer hosts of Eat Bulaga! which is the longest running Philippine noontime variety show. Over time, most probably due to the show's popularity, the term "bossing" then became um slang for "boss" or "chief"

+ Translation of what Alex says when she's stirring the eye inside the cup: “In the eyes of others, secrets will reveal themselves.”

+ Sidenote: The English dub's pronunciation of many of the tagalog lines are um yea they r pretty good but they could use a bit of work but then again I'm really not that good in speaking in Tagalog so who am I to judge gkdkf sorry po guys conyo po ako-

+ Maria Makiling is arguably the most famous of all the diwatas (ancestral spirits, nature spirits, or deities) in Philippine Mythology; she is associated with Mount Makiling in Laguna as the guardian spirit of the mountain. Mount Makiling is said to resemble a profile of a woman and people associate the profile with Maria herself. She is also known as a goddess by the name of Dayang Masalanta and people would pray to her for safety and to stop storms and earthquakes. That's the goddess Alexandra's mother mentions right when she tells Alex to hide. (Translation to what she said there: Maria Makiling, goddess of the mountain, bless us.)

+ ALSO YEA THAT MAYOR IN THE MRT STATION IS UMMM RATHER REMINISCENT OF MAAAANY POLITICIANS AND PUBLIC SERVANTS HERE LIKE BELIEVE ME I CAN THINK OF SO MANY NAMES RN. THEY WOULD FLAUNT THEIR MACHISMO AND PROMISE THAT THEY THEMSELVES SHALL PUNISH THE PERPETRATORS HARSHLY BUT IN THE END THEY DONT MEAN SHIT AND ARE IN OFFICE TO SERVE ONLY THEMSELVES AND TO SHIT ON THE REST ESP THOSE OF THE POORER SECTORS AND *NOTHING IS DONE ABOUT IT*. WE LIVE IN HELL OKAY. also hmm how the police are represented here is umm,,,interesting,,, like i know there are sOME good police officers like the ones alexandra assists but like,,,our current sociopolitical climate + the many cases showcasing the corruption in the police force + tHE SHEER AMOUNT OF POLICE BRUTALITY HERE would ummm beg to differ. but um anyways-

+ Also Mang Inasal posters can be seen in the MRT station backdrops and um it’s a very famous restaurant chain here and they serve lots of barbecue and other filipino stuffs and i miss them a lot God their halo halo is very yummy

+ Santelmo - oki so this is the fire face thingy that Alexandra summons inside the ruined train. This is the shortened version of the term "Apoy ni Santa Elmo" or "St. Elmo's Fire" - this is a weather phenomenon wherein plasma is created from an electrical discharge from a rod like object in an atmospheric electric field. This phenomenon was used to warn of imminent lightning strikes or storms (there is a chapter in Noli Me Tangere where Pilosopo Tasyo talks about that bUT I'LL SAVE THE NOLI ME TANGERE RAMBLES FOR ANOTHER DAY). But according to Philippine folklore, santelmos - which are said to be souls of people lost as sea - are balls of fire that appear where accidents or big arguments happen. In Trese, santelmos (alex's santelmo being "The Great Spirit of the Binondo Fire") can be called to assist in supernatural investigations

+ Translation of what Alex says when she draws the circles to meet with the purple ghosts: "Souls, where are you off to? I'll be entering too, so please open the door."

+ Remember the scene at the train with all the purple ghosts and the woman in a veil? Yea the woman is an emissary of a goddess named Ibu and she is the Manobo (again, another indigenous ethnic group but this time they're from Mindanao; fun fact we have around 134 ethnic groups) goddess of deceased mortals and the queen of the underworld; she also serves as a psychopomp and guides the newly deceased souls to the other side (having an MRT be the ride to the underworld isn’t in the legends tho so fkkjsf)

+ The aswang in the top hat is called Xa Mul and according to the Isneg/Apayao people (yay another ethnic group but this time in northern Luzon - the Cordillera regions to be specific), they are an evil spirit known to swallow people whole.

+ Alex has two henchmen right? Yea they are named Crispin and Basillio and No I still don’t know who’s who and I'm really sorry about that fsfjs so anyways the names Crispin and Basillio are actually those of two brothers featured in the Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo novels (Crispin is younger and Basilio is older) which are basically the national novels here cause um yea written by national hero Jose Rizal as sociopolitical commentary about the Spanish regime here. I don't know if I want to spoil this cause I kinda want other people to read the novel too fskfs BUT ALL IN ALL, ONE OF THEM DIES IN LIKE THE 10TH OR 11TH CHAPTER OF NOLI ME TANGERE (and the novel has 64 chapters btw) AND UM YEA-

+ OKI SO TO ADD MORE CONTEXT TO THE SQUATTER STUFFS MENTIONED IN TRESE (we r gonna use the tiny font here because holy shit this rant is long): So,in the Philippines, especially in the capital region, there are lots of slum areas called squatters. These are dense urban settlements made of compact makeshift housing units that aren't really officially recognized by the government. This is um very reflective of the poverty situation here and there are maaany factors that come into play here and if i were to go into depth about this topic, that rant would probably turn into an academic paper so for the sake of brevity, let's just say that Things Are Fucked Up Here. Oftentimes the poorer sectors are being ignored and left to their own devices despite tons of campaign promises to make things better and easier for them. The communities that live here are incredibly vulnerable to floods, fires, and the like and afaik no concrete solutions have been in effect to protect these people and their settlements. There have also been many times where squatter areas are dismantled or demolished despite protests of people living in those areas and yea I understand the need to make space and the need for renovation but the people should still be offered some sort of temporary settlement or financial compensation thingy that doESN'T fuck them over but alas, we have an anti-poor government. That being said, I really like Trese Ep 1's portrayal of governmental negligence, but I also have some thoughts, especially in regards to the mayor being arrested THAT FAST which um believe me, NEVER FUCKING HAPPENS BECAUSE MANY MAYORS AND A LOT OF POLITICIANS HAVE THE POLICE IN THEIR POCKETS SO UM ERR YEA JUSTICE IS RARELY A THING HERE BUT UM ANYWAYS YEA THE GOVERNMENT LIKES TO SHIT ON THE POOR WOO LET'S SAVE THE USE OF SOCIOLOGICAL LENS ON THIS MATTER FOR ANOTHER DAY

+ The news channel reporting the arrest of the mayor is ABC-ZNN WHICH IS AN OBVIOUS REFERENCE TO ABSCBN aka the top media conglomerate here (that has been fucked over by the government so many times to the point that they had to shut down operations last year which is all sorts of unfair so seeing them being referenced here kinda made me happy gksfks)

[randombtsprincessa]

Brush His Picture

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright​ for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining​ for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub​ for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?” 

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games? 

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms. 

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

[bokutoslittlebird]

CHEERS TO ABOVERSE IM STILL CONFUSED BUT I WOULD LOVE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT ABOVERSE

IM ON A BREAK SO LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT IT at least my version of it. Many authors who write for Omegaverse have different styles of writing it and often will make it more complex or simple, depending.

A/B/O (Omegaverse) dynamics under the cut because uh... this is gonna be long

So first off, we have the rankings:

Alpha, which are the top of food chain, theoretically speaking, and are able to impregnate anyone. “But what about females?” Yes! Female alphas have a penis, like male alphas. Now, some authors will change it up. I’ve read some where the female alpha will still have the normal female genitalia, but has a penis that can pop out of the vagina? It was weird explanation, but that’s the gist. I’ve also read it where the female alpha is born with male genitalia, so only a penis. They could also have both, it is really up to the author’s wishes. Alphas have cycles of prime breeding which is referred to as a rut.

Betas are considered the normal class, they’re the middle men. Betas do not have cycles but they do have a scent. Male betas can get female betas and omegas pregnant, and alphas and male betas can get female betas pregnant. This means female betas go through their normal menustration cycles.

Omegas are the last class rank. They are the baby makers and can get pregnant regardless of their gender. So, male omegas. They also have a prime breeding cycle which is referred to as a heat (which is very similar, in my opinion, to a normal female’s estrus period). The equivalent for this in female betas is ovulation. Now, omegas can have babies, but how do you do that if you’re male? Well, some male omegas will have female genitalia, or they go through a c-section. Some authors write it with the baby coming out of the butt. It’s weird, but it’s creative expression, no strict laws of Omegaverse. Some male omegas will have the normal male genitalia, the penis and ballsack. These are useless, however.

Now, I headcanon that there is an extra level to both omegas and alphas. Some people have the abo dynamics interacting to create alpha/beta genes or beta/alpha genes (yes, there’s a difference). I add a level to alphas, so they’re a cut above the rest. This would include, but not be limited to, Enji Todoroki (BNHA), Iwaizumi Hajime (HQ!!), and Bokuto Kōtarō (HQ!!). These alphas above alphas would be deemed “Apex Alphas”. I have seen this term used before, I just can’t remember which blog I follow (or followed) used it, so please let me know if anyone knows where the term was coined; same with the omegas. An omegas extra level is a “Fecund Omega”, and these are highly submissive, housewife-esque omegas. These can include, do not come at me for this, Yachi Hitoka (HQ!!), Rei Todoroki (BNHA), and Oikawa Goshiki Tsutomu (HQ!!). Why them? Because I feel like they just are. Of course, they can be whatever you headcanon them as. Jesus fuck i hc Oikawa As a bottom and an omega but I know a lot of people don’t see that so it’s personal opinion.

If you’ve gotten this far, you’re probably still caught on that whole “scent” thing. If you’re not, that’s okay. You’re still gonna read this. Scents are distinguishing smells that each alpha, beta, and omega carry. An alpha’s pheromones are stronger and overpower an omega’s and beta’s. Betas, while they have scents, cannot actually smell the distinguishing scent (See BokuAka: Threesome, Kinktober day 13 for an example). Omegas have scents which are often more feminine, usually referred to as being “sweet” or “floral”. There is nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t mean an omegas scent has to be feminine. An alpha’s/omega’s scent increases and gets heavier with their rut/heat cycle. Fan fictions set in school setting are usually introducing a set of guidelines for this: either the alpha/omega is forced to stay home during their cycle, or some kind of suppressors are put in place. I’ve seen medicine used, scent-blocking collars, as well as a “special perfume/cologne” (it was only in one fic and it was on Wattpad, so not common).

Alphas and omegas also tend to fall to their instincts more often than not. It isn’t a common theme, but I feel like it would fit properly. Maybe if an apex alpha gets a whiff of an omega about to enter a heat cycle, that alpha will then become obsessed with that omega, perhaps even howling (the idea of Bokuto howling at a Reader who accidentally entered a heat cycle gets me hot dont @ me).

Onto intercourse aka sex! So, alphas have what is called a knot. It is used to plug up their mate (which is their s/o) full of their cum, yummy! Jk The knot itself will inflate as the session goes on, and is quite painful for the receiving partner. Due to this, some authors will write it so a knot is only used during a rut or heat cycle. I do them regardless because, well, I like it. Also, alphas will be adamant about not being submissive or on the receiving end due to instincts, and vice versa for omegas. Their instincts come first when it comes to their cycles, definitely, but in general as well. Knotting also faces a problem, aside from the stretch: the inflation lock. The knot acts as a plug, yes? So, the alpha has to wait for their knot to deflate before detaching themselves from their partner. This can take a few moments, until the alpha has expended their seed and possibly until both parties breathe normally. I’ve also seen it where this can last up to 30 minutes, so get comfortable!

There is another aspect of sex with alphas, but is not necessarily only with sex (it will commonly be seen during intercourse, however). That is marking. I don’t mean writing a name on skin with a marker or branding their name into skin (even tho that’s hot), no. Biting down hard enough to draw blood, therefore leaving a mark? Yes. This lays claim to an omega or beta by an alpha and is a signal of a lasting relationship. Here’s where authors differ: how long the mark lasts. Some have the marks last forever, some only a week, some a month, some for years. It depends. When a mark starts to fade, it requires the alpha to once again claim their mate. This can also lead into angst material, as I’ve read one fic where the alpha marked an unmated omega and essentially ruined their life. Or, on a different note, having a mark that will last for months and having their mate die and soon, their mark fades too. Now, both omegas and alphas can mark their mates, it’s more commonly seen with alphas, though. Betas are not seen to mark their partners, but can be marked by an alpha or omega.

I briefly mentioned scenting, which is different from scents. Let me explain. Scents are what an individual has that is their distinguishable smell. This can vary from person to person, author to author. For example, I headcanon that Akaashi (HQ!!), regardless of rank, has a distinct spearmint and/or coffee smell, which is actually quite common for him. On the other side, I headcanon someone like Bokuto to smell like a pine forest, maybe even sandalwood? Something rustic, but other authors may see him smelling like a beach or even like smoke, due to his love of barbeque. The scents are completely versatile and can come from their hobbies, interests, or favorite food. For example, Sugawara’s scent could be spicy, like maybe it has a hint of Tabasco sauce or Buffalo sauce. Another indicator of scents, if they don’t have specific interests or a favorite food (looking at you, Osamu 👁👁), their scent can somehow relate to their personality. Like in the Suga headcanons, his omega had a spicy scent because of their chaotic, feral energy. Osamu would probably smell like a recently extinguished fire, or the air before a storm. Calm, quiet, but a warning. Scents get heavier with heats and ruts, of course, but they can also be amplified due to emotions. This is often seen in fics where an omega is upset and their alpha can tell and comfort them. Or, if you’re into angst, the beta cannot properly be there for their alpha/omega because they cannot smell their scent. (Yeah I went over this twice but it’s an important aspect of Omegaverse)

Scenting is different because, well, it’s a verb first off. So, an action. Scenting is usually what mates do to mark a claim. So, scents come from scent glands (I usually put them on the neck, as do other authors). Scenting is the action of rubbing their scent onto their mate/partner. Like I said previously, alpha’s scents overpower others, so if an alpha scents an omega, their scent could stay on the entire day. An omega’s scent doesn’t hold very long, but it’s faintly there. A beta cannot, in my little world, carry another’s scent. They have their own scents, but cannot be scented or be scenting anyone.

I think that’s everything lmao. Like I said, every author differs so this is basically my system of Omegaverse. A lot of people think Omegaverse is weird or just complicated and strange, but I see it as a way to explore, kind of? Like, if I wanna make this one character go absolutely feral, I make them an alpha or omega (see Kinktober piece, day 13, again lmao). There’s a lot of freedom when it comes down to it, since their is no strict rule or law about how it is to be written or produced. Not only that, it’s an AU that can be added onto anything, since it only really affects the genitalia and who can get pregnant, yknow? It’s also good as a society set up for gay ships, like BokuAka or IwaOi, having Akaashi and Oikawa being omegas while Bokuto and Iwaizumi are alphas. This is because same sex couples are still frowned upon in most countries, especially America (the south) and Japan. It also gives these gay ships a chance to have their own little offsprings together, which is downright adorable. I personally enjoy writing Omegaverse more than regular stuff because it adds an extra element to work with and don’t get me started on the whole predator-prey dynamic. Delicious 💦

[deathvsthemaiden]

(Hope it's fine to just drop by) but I finished reading the Fork the Witch and the Worm and it was good! I really loved the moral of the last story, there are things you can't do no matter how hard you try and it is okay, you can still live your life!

Scream!!! Of course it’s ok to stop by!! 🤗💓 Ty for sharing your thoughts! No one I know who’s read the og series has gotten around to reading TFTWATW yet 😔<\3 Also my memory of the book and the series are a /smidge/ foggy, I just skimmed my copy again though so I think what I say below should be like,, mostly correct qgshwhshs 🤭 but if it’s not you know why! 🤫

Was The Worm also your favorite story in the collection overall, would you say? 👀👀 I’ve always loved the Urgals, they’re so refreshingly different from the elves, humans and dwarves. I feel you totally about the moral, I’m glad Paolini was consistent about the Urgals being misunderstood and painted one dimensionally as warmongers with skewed priorities by the other beings of Alagaësia and had the epic contradict that idea.

Not to mention how the ending asserted that there’s always going to be danger and obstacles and whatnot but it’s not worth running yourself ragged to defeat them as long as you and your loved ones are safe etc etc, it feels opposite to that myth about the dwarf in the original series who devoted his whole life solely to carving Isidar Mithrim, the giant gem rose, and neglected everything to do it, even his wife. The contrast in intended takeaways is delicious 👁👁!! Ilgra being a girl made the whole thing more enticing to me personally, Dwarven and Urgal women in Inheritance fascinate me in general since we barelyyyy get to see them. I might be mistaken about this but I feel like she mirrored Eragon in some ways which was very neat 👀👀 (what with the Brisingr spell and the title she earns at the end of the epic) and I remember for years I’ve been dying to know what the original Eragon, that our Eragon is named after, was like too. Id love to have enough info on all 3 characters to compare and contrast them! maybe I will when my hair turns fully grey! Perhaps! GWZHSHHS 🔪 (I sound salty but I’m just. Agitated. I hate waiting 😢!)

Hands down my favorite story was The Witch. It checked so many of my boxes and Angela is one of my favorite kinds of characters. (Mischievous, knows things, baffling, literally always has a wisecrack ready etc. also: “im writing an autobiography Eragon here you can read it it’s out of order because that’s how my mindddd works 😌” ADHD represent....) and Eragon humoring her without a tinge of annoyance makes me 💖💕💖💓 he’s still such a good kid... wild to think he has chest hair now (I know he was old enough for that by the end of the original series but I still. Did a double take reading that in TFTWATW it’s just so FUNNY to think about he’s just. An earnest little dude to me, still. What does he need chest hair for (I’m kidding)) I think to protect my sanity my brain made me forget how exciting this specific story was until today because I just know Paolini will take years (yearsssss!!!!) to expand on it >_< but GOD. So many hints to juicy lore and past drama. I’m also fucking DYING to know who this Keeper of the Tower dude she won’t let Eragon talk about is... an ex? An estranged male relative she has bad blood with? An old mentor? im going insane as I type ngl.

And I’m less interested in knowing what /specifically/ Elva said to Greta but that. That was totally wild and fairy tale-ish (I loved it) I wonder if it’ll come back to haunt her? Biting the hand that fed her I mean. Her resentment towards Eragon for messing up her blessing as an infant so royally was totally understandable in the og cycle, but she’s not totally a child anymore, thus def responsible for her actions, and the possibility of her repeating his mistake in a roundabout way is so yummy I could screammm !!

All I have to say about the Fork is: 1) I think the Fork should be called SIR stabby, not Mr but whatever v_v 2) WOOO Murtagh update fi-na-lly—!! 🥳 3) I do like Paolini. I do. I liked Essie too but...I also love when you read a book with child characters and can tell whether or not the author has spent a lot of time around children or not 🤫

Do you plan to read that new sci fi book Paolini is coming out with? I do but idk whennn and I don’t remember the title atm 📖🪐💫

[bopinion]

2021 / 25

Aperçu of the Week:

"There are no great discoveries and advances as long as there is still one unhappy child on earth."

(Albert Einstein)

Bad News of the Week:

A new study gives distance learning a poor report card during the Corona crisis. Researchers at Frankfurt's Goethe University had looked at data from all over the world for this purpose - with sobering results: they found hardly any evidence of learning effects through distance learning in the studies, most of which refer to distance learning in 2020. "The average development of competencies during the school closures in spring 2020 can be described as stagnation with a tendency toward a decline in competencies," explained Andreas Frey, a professor of educational psychology at Goethe University and one of the study's authors. The success of distance learning "is thus in the range of the effects of summer vacations" (Der Spiegel).

This conclusion can certainly be described as frightening. And it should hardly turn out better for the spring 2021. Schools in Bavaria were closed for more than six months. And while my big daughter was able to achieve her university qualification nevertheless - and without any form of bonus! - solidly, it looks a little different for my little son. Mentally, I had already checked off this school year for him anyway. Fortunately, he's in the second of nine grades at secondary school, so there's still plenty of time to catch up on what he missed.

The problem might be to find an educational and functional way back to school normality. So for the time after the summer vacations in a good four weeks, I was expecting a kind of "school enrollment 2.0". And now this: Federal Health Minister Jens Spahn expects that after the summer vacations, due to the then dominant delta mutation of the coronavirus and the rather low vaccination rate among 12- to 15-year-olds, there will again be distance or shift teaching. How long should / must this continue?

The victims of the young generation play for my taste (not only now) a clearly too small role in the sociopolitical considerations in this republic. Apparently, the children and young people hardly have a lobby that fights for their interests. And their parents probably don't either. If the short-term prospects for young people (education and social skills) are not working out, what about the medium-term (digitization and career opportunities) and long-term (sustainable living environment and stable society) prospects? That worries me. Just me? Let's start a movement that finally lives up to the responsibility we have for future generations! Anyone on board?

Good News of the Week:

UEFA (Union of European Football Associations) scored a spectacular own goal this week. The Munich City Council wanted to light up the stadium in rainbow colors during the Germany vs. Hungary match in the European Football Championships currently underway. In protest against Viktor Orban's latest homophobic legislation. UEFA refused - because they, and therefore their championship, were apolitical. You can see it either way. As a result, the public outrage over this decision was much louder and the media coverage much more present than it would have been if the initial idea would have been carried out. After all, Bavarian Prime Minister Markus Söder demonstratively wore a rainbow mask in the audience. And the German team captain, world goalkeeper Manuel Neuer, wore a corresponding captain's armband on the field.

And with Carl Nassib, defensive end for the Las Vegas Raiders, the first active professional in the NFL (National Football League) has come out as homosexual. Something that had to be waited for a long time in what is probably the most macho league in the world. Here, too, the echo was great. Players, clubs and the league congratulated him on this courageous step. In his short video, Nassib says he is interested in "representation and visibility." His explicit wish: that statements like his would one day no longer be necessary. In other words, that they no longer mean "breaking news", but normality.

The fact that these viewpoints come from team sports makes them particularly valuable. After all, as a spectator at the corresponding events, one likes to feel like a collective when "we" play against the others. So it has a signal effect.

P.S.: Orban then faced a powerful headwind at the EU summit. Led by Luxembourg's Prime Minister Xavier Bettel, who outed (actually I hate this word, because it implies that there are sexual orientations that should remain a secret) himself as homosexual even before (!) his election in 2013, it was made clear to this right-wing populist that the EU is not just an economic club from which he benefits disproportionately. But above all a community of values. In which there is only room for nations that recognize this. Which, in case of doubt, they intend to enforce. I'm curious to see how this will develop...

Personal happy moment of the week:

My wife got her second Corona vaccination this week. For health reasons, she took an impending Covid 19 infection particularly seriously. And is now suitably relieved. And her ice hockey team, the Canadiens from its founding city Montréal, have made it to the final play-offs for the Stanley Cup after 28 years and in a complete surprise - something she didn't believe in herself. And is now suitably relieved.

I couldn't care less...

...what reasons Britney Spears' father gives for continuing to be her guardian. It's about money. And no matter what psychological problems the lady may have: it's her self-earned money and not old family jewels that need to be protected.

As I write this...

...I'm looking forward to eating cheese again today after a week of abstinence from dairy due to antibiotics. Especially because we're having tacos tonight - yummy!

[kbear3201]

Sims 4 Legacy Challenge

I fell in love with Lilsimsie’s Not So Berry Challenge, this challenge was inspired by it but I made sure to make it different. Gen 10 Is the closest this gets to her challenge but it is still different. Originally I was going to assign colors but ended up deciding against it which you may notice with some of the traits. I like to give my sims one negative trait to make things more realistic and fun for myself. Some Sims have more of a loose story so any story tellers can tell their story as they please.

I admit I’m still playtesting this challenge, if I find things that need changes I will come back and fix them, if you play please help me find anything that’s ether too hard or makes no sense.

I have a few bonus Sims, some of which are not yet listed as I haven’t completed them. 

I don’t have a set of challenge rules as I want people to play this as they wish, whether you make it a rags to riches or just play with the challenge itself.

Now for the Challenge:

Gen 1: Passionate Painter

You have a fiery love.. For art! Art has always caught your eye more than people ever have, and you’re honestly fine with that. Painting is your passion! You can really express your emotion with it, but some people will never understand. No one would suspect, but you’re a health nut.

Traits: Hot Headed, Self-Assured, Art Lover.

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Challenge Goals:

Complete your aspiration

Reach level 10 of the painting skill

Reach level 10 of the Painter career

Keep all of your first paintings (small classic, medium classic, large classic, etc.)

First date must be at museum

Only eat healthy foods

Make at least one of each painting

Have two kids

Gen 2: Friendly Baker

Food can be art too, and it's also yummy. You are a people person, and your favorite way of making friends is through treats and parties! Treats brings people together and tastes so good while doing so. You love treats, maybe a little too much. People are surprised you love sweets so much when your founder was such a healthy eater.

Traits: Glutton, Outgoing, Self-Assured

Aspiration: Friend to the world

Challenge Goals:

Complete your aspiration

Reach level 10 of Baking skill

Keep your Founder’s first ever painting

Make at least one of each item in the baking list

Have at least 5 friends, including your forever best friend from childhood

Have a penpal

Be good friends with your sibling

Have more than 1 kid

Gen 3: Master Chef

Growing up you had all the treats you could ask for, but there's so much more to food!

Traits: Foodie, Perfectionist, Outgoing

Aspiration: Master Chef

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of Cooking and Gourmet Cooking skills

Complete Aspiration

Inherit Founder's first painting

Make at least one of each item both the Cooking and Gourmet Cooking list

Don't let anyone else cook or get quick meals

Only make cake for someone's birthday

Gen 4: Classical Genius 

Your parent's comfort has always lied in food, but for you, it's music. The Violin has always had such a pretty sound that seems to calm your soul and speak to you. It's history is so fun and it's become your passion. From a little girl you've played a violin and over the years have grown in love with it.

Traits: Music Lover, Perfectionist, Creative

Aspiration:

Challenge Goals

Reach level 10 of Violin skill

Only listen to classical music

Inherit founder's first painting

Have 50,000 simoleons in savings at once

Be an adult before having kids

Have all of your children reach A student as child and teen

Have 1-3 kids

Gen 5: Rising Star

Your parent is all for the violin, but singing and playing the guitar is so much more fun. You love writing music after writing a love song for your first lover and after that you find it's your passion. You start publishing your songs and earn a following, landing you a spotlight and a voice in the world.

Traits: Creative, Ambitious, Clumsy

Aspiration: 

Challenge goals

Reach level 10 of singing career

Reach level 10 of guitar before you reach adult

Inherit founder's first painting

Have two partners before ether being with your forever Sim or deciding to stay single

Don't get married

Have 1 "oopsie" child, can be any of your lover's (or someone else’s)

OPTIONAL

If you have get famous, reach at least 4 stars of fame

Gen 6: Humble Farmer

For two generations your family has been tainted with riches and that's how you grew up. But you start to realize as a young adult that money is nothing but a distraction, true riches come from land and hard work. You move away with your parent's blessing and almost nothing to start a farm you can be proud of.

Traits: Outdoor Lover, Vegan, Clumsy 

Aspiration: Freelance Botanist 

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of the Gardening Career

Move out as a young adult with only 20,000 simoleons and get the biggest lot available

Complete your aspiration

Inherit founder’s first painting

Don't get a Job

Only sell your crops (and crafts if you pick one up)

Have at least two crops for each season (if your crop can grow in more than one season it counts as one for all the seasons)

Have at least 3 kids, helping hands make lighter loads

Gen 7: Romantic Adventurer 

Growing up on the farm, you're not afraid to get your hands dirty. Adventure calls your name and you’re ready to answer. As a child you enjoy finding time capsules and frogs and exploring all types of mysteries. As a teen you find your neighborhood’s hidden world and as an adult you explore every inch of the Jungle. Beyond that, you dream of finding someone to take on these adventures.

Traits: Outdoor Lover, Jealous, Romantic

Aspiration: Jungle Explorer

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 or Archeology and Selvadorian culture skills

Complete Jungle Explorer Aspiration

From childhood, find frogs and collect time capsules

As a teen, find your neighborhood’s hidden world (Sylvan Glade for Willow Creek, Forgotten Grotto in Oasis Springs, Cave of Soulani, etc) If your neighborhood doesn't have a hidden world you may pick a hidden world of your choosing (leave Sixam for gen 10)

Inherit founder’s first painting

Explore the entire Jungle in your lifetime

Marry your third partner

Marry as an adult

Have at least one family adventure

Take your kids to the beach every weekend

Gen 8: Ocean Protector

The beach has always held a special place in your heart, it was the one place your parents brought you that really made you feel like you were a part of a family. Your parents never noticed your depression since teenhood and it sticks with you through your entire life. When it’s almost your young adult birthday, you run away to Sulani and find your beloved beach is in danger of nasty pollution. 

Traits: Outdoor Lover, Gloomy, Child of the Island

Aspiration: Beach Living

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of Fitness skill ONLY THROUGH SWIMMING

Reach level 10 of Conservationist career Environmental Manager Branch

Complete Beach Living Aspiration

Inherit founder’s first painting

Have a best friend that lives in Sulani

When you’re about to age into a young adult, move to your best friend’s house

As a young adult, move into your own lot in Sulani

Invest lots of your time with your family, maybe even too much

Find suitors for all your children

Gen 9: Marine Biologist

Growing up on the beach, you love it as much as your parent does. But while they work towards saving it, you want to work towards learning about the creatures you’re saving. You love your parent but they never give you space and when you talk to them about it they’re very dismissive. You become very dependent on your parent.

Traits: Child of the Ocean, Gloomy, Genius 

Aspiration: Angling Ace

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of the fishing and Parenting skills

Reach level 10 of the Conservationist career Marine Biologist

Complete Angling Ace Aspiration

Inherit founder’s first painting

Don’t move out of your childhood home until your parent dies

Marry your suitor and have 2 kids with them

After your parent’s death, devorce your suitor

Remarry a Sim with the Good trait and have at least one kid with them

Support all your children’s choices

Gen 10: Space Explorer

Your Parent has always supported all your dreams, you were always close with them and loved the stories of all the crazy creatures that live within the Sim world, but what about elsewhere? You look to the stars and dream of what could be out there, maybe you should be the one to find out. Your a funny Sim who enjoys making your friends and family laugh, which makes space life a little less tedious

Traits: Genius, Bookworm, Goofball

Aspiration: Nerd Brain

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of Handiness and Rocket Science Skills

Reach level 10 of Astronaut career Space Ranger Branch

Complete Nerd Brain Aspiration

Inherit founder’s first painting

Have a close relationship with your parent

Build a rocket

Visit Planet Sixam

Marry as an Adult

Marry a co-worker

OPTIONAL

Meet an Alien (If you want to add occults to your story

BONUS SIMS

Gen 11: Unflirty Romance

While your parents heads were in the stars, yours was always in the books. You find it fascinating that someone can take your mind into whatever world they want to and you dream of sharing your own ideas with the world. You write Romance which some find strange due to you not being one for romance, what can you say? It’s so much easier in the books.

Traits: Bookworm, Creative, Unflirty

Aspiration: Bestselling Author

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of Writing and Logic Skills

Reach level 10 or Writer career Author Branch

Complete Bestselling Author aspiration

Inherit founder’s first painting

Self Publish books until you reach level 6 of Writer career

Write 1 book for each child and gift it to them

Besides your children’s books, only write romance novels

Marry your best friend

OPTIONAL:

If you have Get Famous reach at least 3 stars of fame

Gen 12: Dr. Unflirty

Can you find love if it’s scary? Your Parent always wrote about romance but never displayed it for you. You want to find happiness with someone but will that be possible? You refuse to give up but dogs are so much easier! You love them and dream of caring for them as a vet. However, one little accident proves to make this harder than you originally thought.

Traits: Unflirty, Good, Dog Lover

Aspiration: Soulmate

Challenge Goals:

Reach level 10 of Charisma, Veterinarian, and Photography skills

Reach level 5 of Pet Trainer skills

Reach level 3 of any part time job before adult

Inherit founder’s first painting

Wait until you’ve raised the money to move out of your parents house

Make extra cash selling your pictures

As an Adult quit your babysitting job and become a vet

Have one child as a young adult (teen if you have the mods for it) this is your only child

[mrs-storm-andrews]

1 (the last time it was a light house right? It made me think of James Krüsss) Please add all the details! :D 10, 13, 14, 19?

1. Describe your dream house // I think it was a cottage at the top of a cliff at the Atlantic coast of Ireland. A light house has way too many stairs for a chubby girl with an old-ass pug. So, we live in a cottage instead. It has a porch that overlooks the sea and on that porch we have a cozy hammock with lots of pillows and blankets to cuddle into to watch an upcoming storm bristle over the ocean. The rooms are furnished in a rather simplistic way and have a lot of storage room for books. There’s also a shelf with all my tin whistles, low whistles and Irish flutes that I like to play infront of my fire place in the evenings. My bedroom is located in a small chamber right under the roof, so I can listen to the rain on the rooflights while falling asleep. In warm summer nights we sometimes sleep in the hammock on the porch, because despite its remoteness it’s a very safe place, when you don’t need to be afraid to leave your open all day. Since I don’t have a driver’s license, there’s a bus stop nearby with a frequent connection to a buzzing city that provides me with a workplace and everything I need in terms of supply and entertainment. You really should pay us a visit! But please bring some cookies for the pug, otherwise he will fart in your bed.

10. Share a recipe you love // If any of my followers are Italian, they should stop reading here. Immediately, this is not a drill. When I was a kid my dad taught me a very weird recipe for tomato sauce. It’s basically sauted saussage and onion to which we add sieved tomatoes and a generous heap of peanut butter as well as soy sauce and ketjap manis (sweet Indonesian soy sauce). Also whatever dried herbs we have at hand and some pepper as well as sriracha sauce. You all have been warned that this was a weird recipe, but it’s super yummy. This is the way I make my tomato sauce to this very day. Thank you, dad!

13. Write a review for the last book you read // "The Silent Patient" by Alex Michaelides is a psychological thriller that follows the story of a women that allegedly killed her husband and was sentenced to spend her term in a psychiatric hospital, since she completely lost her will or ability to speak after the crime. A young therapist is fascinated by her story and applies for a job on the ward she is imprisoned, trying to treat her condition. With the author changing between the therapist's point of view and diary entries of the patient from the days before the murder took place, he creates tension and an atmosphere that afflicts the reader and keeps them at the edge of the seat at the same time. Still, if you seek for action and a high-paced story, you will not find what you seek for in this book. Instead the author focusses in the backgrounds of both protagonists and spends a lot of time dwelling in their minds, detangeling complex psychological structures for the reader to understand the characters' motivations and also to find a lot of themselves in these characters. A parallelism that often seems to be more aggrieving to the reader than the story itself. There's an abyss in everyone of us, after all.

14. Write a review for the last film you watched? // Seriously, I don't remember what movie I watched last, since I haven't been watching any moviews in months due to all the stress I had.

19. Whats sole life advice everyone should know // If you got a grease stain on one of your clothing items, just rubb some ordinary shampoo onto the stain and leave it for some time (maybe 1-2 hours). Then put it into the washing machine the way you always do. Once the item has dried the grease stain will be completely gone. That method even works with old stains that resisted every attempt to get rid of it in the wasching machine before. I really wish, I would have known the simple trick years earlier.

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

Long answer asks

[swissmissficrecs]

Underrated Fics, Part 12

I’ve got a nice bunch to share this time! Have a look, try something new, help encourage these writers to keep sharing their time and talents.

My requirements:

Fic complete

Last chapter posted prior to April 1, 2019

Fewer than 200 kudos as of this posting

Earned a 'favorite' from me on AO3 

(P.S. See my other “Underrated” lists here.)

In descending order of length:

1. The size and crossover (with Star Trek) nature of this may make it seem daunting, but it's a fabulous, intricately plotted adventure that is 110% worth the investment.

Voyages of the Bakerstreet (528380 words) by fresne Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John Watson had worked hard to be accepted at Starfleet Academy. As an Augment, a descendant of the super soldiers who seized power on Earth during the Eugenics wars, he's had to work twice as hard. Play twice as hard too, because screw them. The only path to ship duty for an Omega is extra credits like T.A.ing a Professor's class. The mysterious Commander Holmes, an Augment like himself, would do nicely. Very nicely. Sherlock Holmes had gone to considerable effort to put his past - and his family - behind him. His career in Starfleet hadn't gone exactly as envisioned. Bounced from research facility to facility, his analysis on how to defeat the Borg ignored, now he's finally washed up teaching at the Academy. His T.A. is fascinating. Of course, he's entirely above all that alpha biological nonsense. Starfleet never really intended to assemble a crew with a half trained doctor and an alpha Augment with authority issues. But they also didn't really intend for the Borg to make it quite as far as they did. And so...These are the Voyages of the USS Bakerstreet. Her five year mission (make that ten (okay fine twelve year mission + time travel)), to seek out new life and new civilizations. To go boldly.

======

2. Some readers may be wary of the pairings, but it's a core Johnlock fic with that being the final pairing. It's also the sequel to an equally long fic, which should be read first. The other reasons to read this are for the truly brilliantly done case built up throughout, great original characters, lots of action, puzzles to solve, and just plain fun.

Vertigo (English version) (133693 words) by kirin_calls Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor, Victor Trevor/John Watson Series: Part 2 of Gravity (English version) Summary: Sequel to RAW. John is struggling with his loss. Plagued by nightmares, his life gone topsy-turvy, he is no longer able to lead a normal existence. As he seeks out some stability, some way to slowly pull himself up out of the morass of his grief, old rivals become friends and details about Sherlock's past come to light, leading John to discover something strange that won't let him go.

======

3. Part 1 of this was on my last Underrated list (although it has since broken 200 kudos), but it's not strictly necessary before reading this one. Fantastic psychological character work and high-tension pacing create a satisfyingly well-rounded werewolf story that’s equal parts thinky and physical, with the addition of some casework and nice, steamy smut.

The Change (28841 words) by Laur Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Series: Part 2 of The Wolf Summary: Sherlock and John struggle to accept the Wolf as they begin their new relationship. A sequel to The Bite.

======

4. There's been at least one installment from this series on all of my Underrated lists lately, and as I'll reiterate, it's not necessary to read the entire series to enjoy any of the individual parts (although I do recommend the whole series, as it's fantastic). This one is a smutty stocking stuffer filled with treats for any time of year.

Revelation (26562 words) by illwick Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Series: Part 23 ofUnwind Summary: A new negotiation puts John and Sherlock in the Christmas spirit.

======

5. I know there are a lot of these "A Christmas Carol" fusions around, and it's not the season now, but honestly the trope never gets old, and this one is very well done.

John Watson and the Three Spirits (aka A Ghost Story of Christmas) (18788 words) by PipMer Rating: Teen And Up Audiences £ Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Molly Hooper/Greg Lestrade, Clara/Harry Watson Summary: John hadn’t planned on becoming a grumpy old man. Well, he wasn’t old quite yet. But he wasn’t getting any younger, and as he thought back on his life so far this Christmas Eve, he was coming up with a lot of regrets. He had been here before, at a crossroads. Feeling as if his life were over, only to have it turned around in the blink of an eye. Could it happen again? Or was it finally, truly, too late?

======

6. A deliciously frustrating comedy of errors and near-misses as the universe tries its darnedest to get Sherlock and John together.

Serendipity (18222 words) by Calais_Reno Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: A bit of New York Christmas fluff, based on the 2001 movie.

======

7. I think people have shied away from this one because of the ambiguous ending, but it's beautifully written and well worth a look.

A Walk in the Woods (16062 words) by Ginger_Cat Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: After a series of traumatic events, John has left London in self-imposed isolation. Permanently. There is, of course, one man who might succeed in bringing him home.

======

8. This is a one-shot add-on to a much longer fic, but although that one got over 1000 kudos, this doesn't have many at all, which doesn't add up because this is so tender and intimate, a perfect coda to lull the emotions. (Necessary to read the main fic first.)

Silent Night (15060 words) by khorazir Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Series: Part 2 of Enigma Summary: It’s Christmas Eve 1944, and Sherlock Holmes has received his most precious gift already: after a long, dangerous deployment, Surgeon Captain John Watson of the Royal Navy has unexpectedly returned from the front. As if this weren’t enough, there’s a case. Both events make for a night full of promise, excitement, and the difficult task of getting reacquainted with the man Sherlock hasn’t seen in three years and feared he’d lost forever.

======

9. This is hilarious, and so well done, especially if you know Brooklyn 99 (although that's not strictly necessary, it enables an appreciation of how in-character everyone is).

Boat Chase! (14317 words) by shamelessmash Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago Summary: Sherlock, John and Lestrade are on a case that lead them to Brooklyn, NY. Reluctantly, Sherlock accepts the 99th precincts offer to help with the legwork. Welcome to this Sherlock/Brooklyn 99 crossover, where everyone ships Johnlock, and the case doesn't matter.

======

10. This author has written exclusively Mystrade up to now, so for that reason are probably unknown to Johnlock fans. They have honed their wordcraft well, though, and really know how to create depth and emotion through understated words, actions, and gestures.

Afraid of the Light (12063 words) by hippocrates460 Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: After everything, comes a time of quiet. There's cases, and Baker Street, and really, life is good. It gives John time to work through something he's been struggling with. OR: The one where I surprise myself by writing Johnlock. And like, quite a lot of it.

======

11. Yummy angst and UST abound in this dreamy tale told through sleeping habits.

The Sleeper and the Sleuth (11874 words) by Zingiber Rating: Explicit Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Summary: John Watson is a light sleeper - plagued by dreams, nightmares, and Sherlock Holmes.

[lefaystrent]

In a magical kingdom far away...

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: none

Summary:  The evil Lord Of Logic descends on the land, forcing all it touches to obey the laws of physics.

Notes: The summary is a prompt you can find here. @katie-the-noble-fangirl suggested the prompt to me a while back, and in all of my infinite wisdom, I decided that last night was the perfect time to write it. When I was drunk from a celebration. I fixed up all the typos but left everything as a whole untouched.

In a magical kingdom far away, a valiant knight wandered the capital’s streets. His name was Roman, a man who held immeasurable power and acclaim.

“I am powerful,” he said to himself, sauntering down the street like he owned it. He might have; you can buy streets and name them sometimes. If Roman bought a street, he’d probably name it Glitter Lane, and he’d encourage a royal decree to have glitter poured down it every Tuesday, because fuck any other day. “I am solid,” he said.

In the middle of this beautiful day, the sky turned cloudy, stormy. It looked like it would cry.

“Tissue?” Roman offered the Heavens.

In the middle of the atmosphere, a being emerged. He wore a cape, long and flowy, and down upon the land he descended. The magic-inclined citizens cowered, not sensing any magical flow from the new arrival. It’s like sensing Feng Shui really. You go into a house, see a couch in the wrong place, say to it, “You are a sad thing in this world,” and feel better about yourself. Maybe set it on fire.

Roman approached the figure when everyone else shied away. “Who falls into our kingdom so unmagically?”

“I am Logan. Not Wolverine. The distinction is important,” the man said.

Roman grimaced like he’d stepped in dog poo. Nasty. “And how does a Logan fall into our realm without the aid of magic?”

“It’s called gravity. Read a book,” Logan declared.

Roman didn’t read books. He just stabbed them with his sword and absorbed the knowledge through magical osmosis. Reading books was for the poor saps who couldn’t afford a magical education. And anyway, Roman had never heard of this ‘gravity’ thing before. He was a knight of magic!

“I don’t like your tone of words,” Roman said, mostly because he was confused and trying to cover it up. Honestly though, this guy was just dumb. “What’s a gravity?”

“Science,” Logan said, sweeping his arm out. He held an apple flavored jar of Crofters, the most magical jelly in all of the land. “What goes up must come down,” he said and let the jar fall. It smashed to pieces on the cobblestone road.

Roman drew his sword. “For such disregard of this yummy casualty, I must hit you with my sword until death happens. Are you prepared to die?”

“I am the master of logic. You cannot hurt me with your magic.”

“Fair enough,” Roman said and stabbed a bitch. Logan looked surprised at the blade embedded in his gut. Not like he won the lottery surprise. A bad kind of surprise. A stabby surprise. Ow.

“How?” Logan demanded, voice choked with the shame of his ancestors.

Roman smirked. “It’s just a sword actually, no magic needed.”

The sword was removed and Logan fell to his knees. His haggard breaths stuttered out, hand clutching the wound. He would have expired shortly after had a radiant light not enclosed around him, healing him.

“What sorcery is this?!” Roman screamed. “No really, who is magicking this right now? I do not approve. And I’m a knight.”

“Yo, waddup, it’s ya boi,” Virgil said, rolling up. Roman knew him as a mere stable boy. He passed by him on his daily patrols and loved to exchange in banters.

“You traitorous scum!” Roman bellowed. “How dare you heal this villain?!”

“Hear me out, but I think he might be on to something,” Virgil said reasonably. Reasonably. Disgusting.

“A denier of falsehoods?” Logan asked hopefully. He rose to his foots. Not feet. Foots! Screw you English! You’re just a mess of letters! “I never thought I’d find one here in this land so reliant on magic.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s a life choice really. Also, ‘gravity’ sounds so metal. I want like nine boxes worth.”

“It’s…not something you really… You know what? I’m not looking you in the mouth, gift horse. I’ll get you nine boxes of gravity if you help me spread the word about science.”

“You would go against the kingdom, Virgil?” Roman accused, pointing the bloodied sword at him. It was really rude, because that wasn’t even Roman’s blood he was pointing with. He should really give it back. Hey Logan, he should really give your life liquid back.

“My life liquid?”

Yeah, that go-go juice that makes your heart go badumpy-dump.

Across land and sea, there lives a Patton who quietly murmurs, “Badumpy-dump.”

“Thanks fam,” Logan said to the author and pointed a serious finger situation at Roman. “As that blood is mine, I demand it be returned.”

Roman glanced at his blade incredulously. “Like…shove it back in?”

Logan’s eyes did a no-nonsense glare. “You would stab an unarmed man?”

“Oh my goodness, you’re absolutely right,” Roman said, as if he hadn’t already done that before. “Here you go, my mistake.” He handed over the sword.

Sword in hand, Logan turned to Virgil. “You know, I knew the people here were stupid, but are they all this bad?”

“He’s just an overachiever,” Virgil said.

“Noted.” Logan nodded and chucked the sword over his shoulder. A pained scream followed shortly after, but surely that couldn’t be related. “At any rate, I am here to teach you wayward souls. Global warming is coming, and I am a harbinger of coolness. Do you accept my tutelage? Or shall you perish?”

Virgil slapped a hand over Roman’s mouth before he could speak. “Do me a smart, oh wise one.”

“Very well,” Logan said and threw science textbooks at the populace. He pulled them out of his cape. It was like Mary Poppin’s bag, but a cape. I don’t know how it worked, but I’m sure there was a logical explanation behind it.

And from that day on, the lord of logic educated the kingdom in ways beyond the magical. Roman wasn’t very happy about it, so he quit being a knight and went into the mountains to fight bears.

General Tag List: @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @naw2702 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @iolanomsgranola @tacohippy56900 @accio-hufflepuff-power1 @just-another-rainbowblog @georganabanana @grey-says-heck​ @crookedlyoptimisticdestiny @thesynysterunknown @idont-know-what-im-doing