#there is a strictly come dancing pun

[personinthepalace]

@randomnessoffiction

In preparation for the Seren's Study I am currently banging out like Mozart on a piano, here are all the episode titles and synopses of Odd Squad UK!

The four missing titles will be added when I can find them. Can be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks...maybe a few months at worst. Will reblog this post when they're added!

[skz-streamer]

Sensitive S/o

Pairing: Skz x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst/Misunderstanding?

Warnings: Sensitivity? Slight crying, weights, frustration, small arguments...Im not really sure what to put here so lmk if I missed anything :)

Notes: ARGHHHH I HAD SUCH A HARD TIME TO COME UP W DIFF SCENARIOS SO IM SORRY IF ITS A LITTLE WORDYYY :((( Suchhh a cute ask though thank you lovely anon The Ask :)

Summary: Skz and their sensitive s/o

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Full word count ~4.8k ;)

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Chan:

"So, Y/N," Chan began with a cheeky grin, "did I ever tell you about the time I tried to cook dinner for the members?"

You chuckled, your heart fluttering at the familiar tone of his voice. "No, you haven't! Do tell."

Chan launched into a hilarious account of his culinary mishaps, imitating his fellow members' shocked expressions as they took their first bites of his concoction. You couldn't hold back your laughter, and your eyes sparkled with delight as you listened to his animated storytelling.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two of you settled onto a park bench. The conversation flowed effortlessly, jumping from one topic to another. Chan's arm rested casually around your shoulders, and you leaned into his comforting presence. His jokes and lighthearted banter continued, wrapping you in a cocoon of happiness.

A mischievous glint danced in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, Y/N, did you know that you're the only person who can keep up with my terrible puns?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. "Oh please, Chan. Your puns are legendary. I just try my best to match the greatness."

He grinned a warm and affectionate smile that made your heart flutter. "Well, you succeed spectacularly"

As the conversation flowed, your heart felt light, and the world seemed to slow down around you. But just as the laughter and stories continued, there was a shift in the atmosphere. Chan's teasing took a slightly sharper edge, and a comment that was meant to be a joke struck a chord in you.

"Come on, Y/N, don't be such a crybaby," he teased lightly, not realizing the weight his words held for you.

Your smile faltered, and you felt a pang of hurt deep within. You knew he didn't mean any harm, but sometimes, even the lightest remarks could trigger a sensitive nerve. You tried to shake it off, forcing a chuckle as you replied, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just can't handle the master of puns, that's all."

But Chan noticed the change in your demeanor, his keen eyes picking up on the shift in your tone. His expression softened as he realized his words had landed differently than intended. "Hey," he said gently, his voice a warm reassurance, "I didn't mean it like that, Y/N. You know I'm just messing around, right?"

You nodded, your throat tightening as you struggled to keep your emotions in check. You hated how easily certain comments could bring tears to your eyes, even when you knew they were meant in jest. But it was hard to shake off the sensitivity, a part of you that you sometimes wished you could control better.

"Hey," Chan's hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped. "It's okay, really. I didn't mean to upset you."

Your lips quivered into a small smile as you looked into his eyes, grateful for his understanding. "I know, Chan. It's just…."

He sighed softly, pulling you into his embrace. "Y/N, you don't have to help it. Your feelings are valid. If something bothers you, it's okay to feel that way."

As his arms encircled you, a warm sense of comfort enveloped you. Chan's soothing words seeped into your heart, reminding you that you were allowed to feel whatever you felt. You leaned into his chest, tears wetting his shirt, and he held you tight.

"You're strong, you know," he murmured into your hair. "Being sensitive doesn't make you weak. It means you care deeply, and that's a beautiful thing."

You sniffled, laughing softly through your tears. "Leave it to you to make me feel better, even when I'm being silly."

Chan's fingers brushed gently against your back as he rubbed soothing circles. "I'll always be here for you, Y/N.”

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Lee Know: 

As the credits rolled on the screen, Lee Know let out a content sigh. "That was a good movie, huh?" he said, his voice a soothing rumble against your ear.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I enjoyed it. Thanks for picking it."

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "Anything for you, babe."

You felt a rush of warmth at his words. It was moments like these that made you appreciate how considerate and caring Lee Know was. He had always been attentive to your needs, and you cherished the way he understood you.

But just as the credits faded to black, your blissful moment was interrupted by a sudden noise from outside the window. It was a car alarm going off, and the loud blaring sound pierced through the tranquility of the room.

You winced at the sudden noise, and Lee Know tightened his grip around you, his protective instinct kicking in. "Ugh, that's so annoying," he muttered, annoyance evident in his tone.

You nodded in agreement, but something about the noise seemed to have unsettled you more than you anticipated. Your heart raced, and your eyes began to sting with unshed tears. You tried to shake off the feeling, reminding yourself that it was just a trivial noise and there was no reason to get upset.

Lee Know sensed the shift in your mood and looked down at you, concerned furrowing his brow. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked gently.

You sniffled, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... the noise startled me, I guess."

He frowned, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You sure that's all it is?" he asked softly.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. You knew your reaction was disproportionate to the situation, but you didn't want to burden him with your irrational emotions. You had always been sensitive, and sometimes it felt like a weakness.

Lee Know's eyes softened as he cupped your cheek, turning your face to meet his gaze. "You don't have to hide anything from me, you know," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "If something's bothering you, I want to know."

Your lips trembled, and you felt another tear slide down your cheek. "I know I shouldn't be this upset over a stupid noise," you admitted, your voice cracking. 

Lee Know's expression turned gentle, his thumb brushing away your tears. "Hey, it's okay to feel things deeply," he said softly. "That's just who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. You're not weak for being sensitive, you're strong for embracing your emotions."

You sniffled, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief wash over you. "But I feel like I'm burdening you with my emotions," you confessed, your voice barely audible.

He shook his head, his eyes unwaveringly locked onto yours. "You could never be a burden to me, Y/N," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I love every part of you, even the parts you might consider flaws. And I'm here to support you through everything, even the moments when you feel overwhelmed."

As he spoke, you felt a warmth envelop you, like a protective shield against your own insecurities. His words were a balm to your wounded heart, soothing the self-doubt that had been festering within you.

"I don't want you to ever feel like you have to hide your emotions from me," he continued his voice tenderly. "We're a team, and that means sharing both the good and the tough moments. So, if something's bothering you, let me in. I promise I'll always be here to listen and support you."

You nodded, tears still trickling down your cheeks but now with a sense of acceptance. Lee Know pulled you into a warm hug, his arms cocooning you in a sense of safety and understanding. He held you tightly, letting you know that he was there for you, no matter what.

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Changbin: 

Amid the bustling gym, the clanking of weights and the steady rhythm of treadmills formed a backdrop to the scene. You were there with Changbin, trying your best to push through a particularly challenging exercise. The weights felt heavier than usual, and frustration began to bubble up within you as you struggled to complete the set.

Changbin, ever attentive to your emotions, noticed the change in your demeanor. He had a knack for picking up on your subtle cues, the way your brows furrowed just a bit more, and the determined set of your jaw turned into a slightly defeated slump. As you lowered the weights and sighed, he could sense that something was bothering you beyond just the physical challenge.

"Hey, you're doing great," he said gently, his voice a soothing presence amid your turmoil. "Remember, progress takes time. We all have our off days, and that's completely okay."

You managed a weak smile, appreciating his support even if it didn't entirely erase your frustration. "I know, but it's just frustrating. I used to be able to do this without any issues, and now..."

Changbin's hand found its way to yours, offering a reassuring squeeze. "It's natural for things to change over time. Our bodies adapt, and sometimes that means facing new challenges. But you're not alone in this. I'm here with you every step of the way."

As you attempted the exercise again, a combination of fatigue and your emotional sensitivity made your eyes prickle with tears. You couldn't help but feel frustrated with yourself for getting so worked up over something that seemed trivial in the grand scheme of things. But that was the thing about emotions—they didn't always follow a rational path.

Changbin noticed the glistening in your eyes and immediately put down the weight he was holding. He gently cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears that escaped. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to be so hard on yourself. Your feelings are valid, whether they're about something big or small."

You sniffled, embarrassed by your vulnerability. "I know it's silly, but I can't help feeling like this."

Changbin's warm gaze never wavered, his fingers tenderly brushing against your skin. "You're not silly for feeling things. We all have moments when certain things hit us harder than they should. It's part of being human, and it's what makes you, well, you."

You appreciated his words, his understanding, and the fact that he didn't dismiss your emotions. It was something you loved about him—the way he allowed you to feel without judgment, even when you were grappling with feelings you didn't quite understand yourself.

Leaving the weights behind, Changbin led you to a quieter corner of the gym. He sat down with you, his arm draped over your shoulders as you leaned against him. "You know, sensitivity can be a strength too."

You sighed, feeling the tension slowly melt away as his comforting presence enveloped you. "I guess so. I just wish I could control it better."

Changbin pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "You're doing just fine, trust me. And if there's ever a time when something bothers you, all you need to do is tell me. I'm here to listen."

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Hyunjin: 

You and Hyunjin find yourselves in the midst of a painting session. The room is drenched in soft, natural light, casting a warm ambiance that should have fostered creativity and joy. Hyunjin is passionately absorbed in his work, brushstrokes gliding across the canvas with determination. You, however, struggle to bring your vision to life. Frustration simmers beneath your surface as you attempt to replicate the vibrant image in your mind.

You swipe the brush across the canvas, the result falling short of your expectations once again. A sigh escapes your lips, caught between the desire to excel and the feeling of inadequacy. Hyunjin glances over, noticing the shift in your demeanor. Concern creases on his features as he puts his brush down for a moment.

"Hey, everything okay?" he asks, his voice a mix of genuine curiosity and worry.

You look up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm just having a bit of trouble getting it right."

Hyunjin steps closer, his gaze softened by understanding. "You know, it's not about getting it perfect on the first try. Sometimes you have to let go of expectations and let your instincts guide you."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of gratitude and frustration. You appreciate his attempt at encouragement, yet the weight of your self-criticism is hard to shake off. You nod, trying to absorb his advice.

But as time passes, your painting continues to deviate from your vision. With each misstep, your frustration mounts. Hyunjin, noticing your growing agitation, offers more guidance – albeit in a way that inadvertently fosters further frustration. His words come out more as critiques than suggestions, and before you know it, your patience snaps.

"Why can't you just let me figure this out on my own?" you burst out, the words carrying a tinge of hurt that takes Hyunjin by surprise.

He freezes the brush still in his hand. "What? I'm just trying to help."

"I know, but it feels like you're just criticizing everything I do!" Your voice wavers, anger and hurt tangling in your chest.

Hyunjin's frustration is palpable, too. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just trying to guide you towards improvement."

"Well, maybe I don't need your constant guidance!" Your voice quivers, the sting of your sensitivity gnawing at you. You hadn't meant for your emotions to escalate so quickly, but here you were – caught in a one-sided argument, tears pooling in your eyes.

Hyunjin's features shift from frustration to confusion as he registers your tears. "Hey, why are you getting so upset?"

Your gaze drops to the floor, shame mingling with your tears. "I don't know, okay? I shouldn't be reacting like this, but I am."

Hyunjin's expression softens as he takes in your vulnerable state. He realizes that this isn't just about the painting; it's about something deeper – a sensitivity that you both know you possess. He lowers his brush, stepping closer to you.

"I didn't mean to make you feel this way," he says, his voice gentler now. "I forget sometimes that not everyone responds well to the way I communicate."

You sniffle, wiping away a tear. "It's not just you. It's me too. I know I shouldn't let things like this affect me so much, but I can't help it."

Hyunjin sighs, his gaze sincere. "You know, sensitivity isn't a weakness. It's just a part of who you are. And I should've been more considerate."

Your eyes meet, a mixture of emotions passing between you. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," you mumble.

Hyunjin places a hand on your shoulder, a warm smile forming. "It's alright. We both have our moments. Let's just take a breather and come back to this later, okay?"

You settle on the couch, the unfinished canvas a silent reminder of your earlier frustrations. Hyunjin wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. "You know, I admire your sensitivity. It means you care deeply about things, and that's a beautiful trait."

You lean into his embrace, finding comfort in his words. "Even when it leads to moments like this?"

He chuckles softly. "Especially then. We're both a work in progress, learning how to navigate each other's emotions."

You smile through the lingering tears, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders. "I'm lucky to have you."

Hyunjin presses a kiss on your temple. "And I'm lucky to have you. We'll figure this out together, one painting stroke at a time."

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Jisung:

You and Jisung are having a fun-filled game night at your apartment. The coffee table is covered with an array of board games and card decks, and laughter fills the air as you and Jisung engage in friendly competition. It's supposed to be a lighthearted evening, a chance to unwind and enjoy each other's company.

As the game progresses, Jisung's playfully competitive side shines through. He throws out witty comments and playful jabs as he wins rounds and makes strategic moves. His remarks have you laughing alongside him, but one comment catches you off guard and hits a nerve.

"Wow, you're not having a good luck streak tonight," he teases, a grin on his face.

You force a chuckle, but the comment stings more than you'd like to admit. You've been feeling emotionally sensitive lately, and the comment, while meant in jest, resonates with your current state of mind. You glance down at the game board, your enthusiasm waning slightly.

Jisung notices the shift in your demeanor, his expression softening with concern. "Hey, are you alright? I was just joking."

You offer a small smile, "Yeah, I know. Just got lost in thought for a second."

He nods, but his gaze lingers on you for a moment before returning to the game. Despite his attempt to move on, you find yourself feeling more affected by his comment than you expected.

You try to push aside the sensitive emotions that have been triggered. You focus on the games, engaging in the banter and laughter just as you always do. But in the back of your mind, that comment lingers, creating a subtle discomfort.

As you play another round, you notice that your thoughts are a bit scattered. You make a strategic move, but it doesn't quite go as planned. Jisung's playful teasing takes on a different tone in your ears, reminding you of the earlier comment.

"Ouch, looks like you're having an off night," he remarks, a grin on his face.

You glance at him, forcing a smile, but inside, you feel a pang of sensitivity. You didn't want his comments to affect you so much, but here you are, struggling to shake off the emotions they've stirred.

As the game night continues, you feel the weight of your sensitivity growing. You try to brush off the discomfort, but it's becoming increasingly challenging. You want to enjoy the evening and the company, but the comment has struck a chord you can't ignore.

Eventually, you decide that a break is in order. You put on a smile, hoping to hide your feelings and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You get up from the table and make your way to the restroom, closing the door behind you with a sigh.

Inside the bathroom, you lean against the sink, trying to gather your thoughts. The emotions you've been suppressing finally spill over, and you find yourself sniffling softly. You hadn't anticipated that a lighthearted comment during game night would trigger such a strong reaction.

Outside the bathroom, Jisung's concern hasn't faded. He knows you well enough to sense when something's wrong, even if you try to hide it. After a few minutes, he decides to check up on you. He approaches the bathroom door, his hand gently resting against the wood.

"Hey, is everything okay in there?" he asks softly.

You take a moment to compose yourself, wiping away your tears. "Yeah, I just needed a moment."

He doesn't sound convinced, and you hear a soft sigh from the other side of the door. "You know you can talk to me, right? If something's bothering you?"

His words resonate, and you realize that he genuinely cares. The vulnerability you'd been trying to suppress feels overwhelming at this moment. With a shaky breath, you open the bathroom door, revealing your slightly teary-eyed state.

Jisung's concern deepens as he takes in your appearance. Without hesitation, he pulls you into a comforting hug. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to pretend with me."

Tears escape despite your efforts to hold them back, and you bury your face in his shoulder. Jisung holds you close, his touch a soothing balm for your frayed emotions.

"I'm sorry," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

Jisung pulls back slightly, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "Don't be sorry. It's okay to feel how you feel."

You take a deep breath, the weight of your sensitivity slowly easing as he offers his understanding and comfort. "It's just that... your comment earlier, hit me harder than I thought."

Jisung's expression shifts from concern to realization. "Wait, the thing I said during the game?"

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability in sharing your feelings with him.

He lets out a sigh, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "I'm sorry if I upset you. I didn't mean to"

You offer a small smile, touched by his genuine concern. "I know you didn't mean it that way"

Jisung's gaze softens as he holds you close. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know? I'm here for you, always."

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Felix:

 You and Felix are spending an afternoon together, exploring a bustling shopping district. The sun shines overhead, casting a warm glow on the streets as you stroll hand in hand, occasionally stopping to peek into storefronts that catch your interest. It's meant to be a carefree outing, a chance to enjoy each other's company and the city's charm.

As you walk, a group of girls pass by, casting a quick glance in your direction before bursting into laughter. Your heart sinks as you catch the tail end of their mocking glances. You feel exposed as if their laughter is directed at you, even though you can't be entirely sure. You clasp Felix's hand a bit tighter, a mix of discomfort and embarrassment pooling within you.

Felix continues chatting about something he spotted at a nearby store, seemingly oblivious to the brief encounter. He's always been the kind of person who radiates positivity and doesn't let minor things affect his mood. You don't want to ruin the day with your sensitivity, so you offer a small smile and nod as he speaks.

As you browse through a store, Felix's genuine concern hasn't waned. He can sense that something is off, even though you're trying your best to hide it. He decides to address the issue and approaches you, his voice gentle.

"Is everything alright?" he asks softly.

You hesitate for a moment before admitting, "Honestly, something kind of bothered me earlier."

Felix's expression shifts from curiosity to attentive concern. "What happened?"

You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to share. "When we were walking, I noticed a group of girls looking at me and laughing. I don't know why, but it made me feel self-conscious."

Felix reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're a wonderful person, and those girls' opinions don't matter. If anything, their behavior says more about them than it does about you."

"Felix," you begin, your voice soft but resolute. "There's something I want to tell you."

He shifts slightly, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering attention. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath, you find the courage to speak your truth. "I love you."

Felix's eyes widen ever so slightly, his expression a mix of surprise and tenderness. The moment hangs suspended between you, a pause filled with emotion.

Then, a heartwarming smile spreads across Felix's face, his gaze never leaving yours. "I love you too, more than words could express."

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Seungmin:

You and Seungmin have always had a strong bond, but like any couple, disagreements are a natural part of your relationship. One evening, a difference in opinions leads to a heated argument that tests both your emotions and your sensitivity.

The topic at hand is trivial, something that wouldn't usually escalate into a conflict. But somehow, the conversation has spiraled into a full-blown disagreement, each of you holding your ground with growing frustration. As words are exchanged, your sensitivity to certain tones and remarks heightens the intensity of the argument.

"Can't you just see it from my perspective for once?" Seungmin exclaims, his voice tinged with exasperation.

You feel your heart clench, the sharpness of his tone cutting deeper than he intended. Your sensitivity to emotional nuances has always been a double-edged sword, allowing you to connect deeply with others but also making you more susceptible to feeling hurt.

"I am trying to see your perspective," you reply, your voice strained. "But that doesn't mean my feelings don't matter."

Seungmin's expression shifts, a mixture of frustration and regret flickering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to dismiss your feelings."

As the argument reaches a temporary impasse, you struggle to rein in your emotions. The sensitivity that runs through your veins makes it difficult to shake off the lingering hurt caused by the heated exchange.

Seungmin's brow furrows as he takes in your expression, his frustration fading into concern. He realizes that the argument has taken an emotional toll on you, and the realization dawns that his words have impacted you in a way he hadn't anticipated.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, his voice softer now.

You struggle to hold back tears, your emotions bubbling over. "It's just... sometimes the way we argue... it gets to me."

Seungmin's gaze softens as he comprehends the depth of your sensitivity. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize..."

Seungmin takes a step closer, his eyes unwavering. "We'll work through this together, okay? I'll be more mindful of your sensitivity, and you'll let me know when things get tough."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, touched by his willingness to bridge the gap. "Deal."

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Jeongin:

You and Jeongin find yourselves on a quiet rooftop, the city lights below casting a soft glow against the night sky. The stars twinkle above, and a sense of tranquility settles over the two of you. Stargazing has always been a cherished activity for you – a time to reflect, share thoughts, and simply enjoy each other's company.

Tonight, however, there's an underlying weight tugging at your heart. Lately, you've been feeling emotionally sensitive, and specific comments and situations are affecting you more than they should. You had hoped that tonight's stargazing would provide a moment of solace, a chance to open up to Jeongin about your feelings.

As the two of you lie on a blanket, gazing up at the constellations, you feel a mixture of contentment and apprehension. You decide to seize the moment and express what's been on your mind.

"Jeongin," you begin softly, "sometimes, I get a little more affected by things than I let on."

He turns to you, his eyes curious. "What do you mean?"

You take a deep breath, trying to put your feelings into words. "Well, like when certain things are said a certain way, or when I'm feeling overwhelmed, it gets to me even if I try not to show it."

Jeongin nods, but his expression doesn't change much. "I get it. We all have our moments, right?"

You feel a pang of disappointment – it's as if he didn't quite grasp the depth of what you were trying to convey. Nonetheless, you press on, hoping he'll understand better with a bit more explanation.

"Yeah, but sometimes it feels like the sensitivity is a bit too much. Like, I wish I could just brush things off, but I end up overthinking."

He offers a sympathetic smile. "It's okay, you know? You're allowed to feel how you feel."

His words are reassuring, yet you had hoped for a deeper connection, a moment of shared vulnerability. You let out a soft sigh, the stars above seemingly reflecting the emotions swirling within you.

As the night progresses, you both continue to share stories, laughter, and quiet moments of contemplation. It's a beautiful night, but there's a part of you that longs for a more profound understanding from Jeongin.

The conversation turns to dreams, aspirations, and fears. You listen intently as he speaks about his hopes for the future, his determination to succeed, and his worries about letting people down. He talks animatedly, completely immersed in the conversation.

You seize the opportunity to dive a bit deeper. "You know, Jeongin, I've been feeling a bit lost lately too. Like, I'm not sure where I'm headed."

He grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. "Don't worry, you'll figure it out. You're amazing at whatever you do."

You smile back, but a part of you aches. It's as if your words were merely skimmed over, not fully comprehended. You had hoped that sharing your uncertainties would spark a more profound exchange.

He yawns and stretches, a contented smile on his face. "Tonight was nice, huh?"

You nod, feeling a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, it was."

As he gathers the blanket and begins to pack up, he glances at you, his gaze lingering for a moment. "You okay?"

You hesitate, then decide to voice what's been on your mind. "Honestly, I wish sometimes you could pick up on the things I don't say. Like, understand when I'm struggling even if I'm smiling."

Jeongin's expression shifts from confusion to realization. "Wait, are you saying… you've been feeling more sensitive lately?"

You nod, relieved that he's finally connecting the dots.

He lets out a sigh, his features softened by understanding. "I'm sorry if I missed that. I guess I assumed you were always strong, that you didn't need anyone to worry about you."

You let out a chuckle, a mix of amusement and fondness. "Well, even strong people have their moments."

Jeongin's hand finds yours, his grip gentle and reassuring. "I promise, from now on, I'll pay more attention. I want you to know that you can always talk to me."

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[officialgleamstar]

in my feelings about monsters and mommies au morgan and how i only ever make her deeply depressed, so heres some (genuinely) cute/fun facts about her rather than the constant angst i give her:

though not a musician herself, she practically grew up at concerts and considers music her main interest

related: her dream job is being the owner of her own record store!

at the start of mnmoms au, she is an overnight stocking manager at a grocery store. however, after the timeline jump to the foster timeline - she has her dream job! shes the main breadwinner of their family with her own record/general music store.

she/they not necessarily in a non-binary way, but not quite a cis way either. she's always had a pretty loose grasp on gender, and after nick comes out as trans, she realizes that she doesn't really care about being seen as strictly a woman. she just also doesn't care enough to think deeper on it LOL

she is the ONLY MOM to know who the omega daddies are at first. this doesn't sound like a fun fact, but it is actually pretty funny for morgan and bill to be pointing at each other like "why are YOU here?!" while the other moms are like "...? morgan who are these strange men who kidnapped our kids?"

since she loves the color blue, nick (and nicholas in the foster timeline!) buys her any blue jewelry and clothing he finds and can afford. because of this, morgan has a generally younger fashion style than the other moms, because she likes wearing the clothes her son buys her/points out to her in stores

as the AU season 1 goes on, morgan loosens up a lot and the other moms learn that she is actually capable of being pretty silly. she likes dancing a lot, she sings off-key to any song that she knows, she's a big fan of stupid puns and disney jokes. shocker shocker, local woman is capable of being a normal human being when given the chance!

her favorite holiday is new years, tied between western new years and chinese new year! she just likes the idea of fresh starts, being with family, and the bright celebrations

she met glenn at a casual music competition held at a local bar, where he won against her boyfriend at the time. when she tells this story, people always ask, "oh, and he impressed you so you broke up with your boyfriend?" and she cheerfully responds with, "no, i tried to break his nose to defend my boyfriend's honor! we ended up dating later on."

she has a weird hate crush on erin o'neil, where she's utterly head-over-heels for her but can only express it by pissing erin off. everyone hates it except for morgan, but after hearing the glenn story, it makes a lot more sense

post-season 1, she gets really into messing with jodie. she finds the way he gets riled up funny and also kind of adorable.

(she's utterly unaware of it, and jodie would never say it, but jodie's original morgan was the same way so he finds it comforting whenever he snaps at her and she just starts laughing at him. he always found it genuinely annoying with his morgan, and it was definitely a splinter in their relationship, but he struggles more with finding offense with it now that she's gone. (whoops sorry i said these weren't gonna be sad))

post-timeline jump, nicholas is the absolute center of morgan's world. he's her favorite person to be around, she will drop everything if he needs her or just wants to hear her voice, and while his high anxiety can set her own anxiety off, she never finds it hard to reassure him. and luckily for morgan, he's a total mama's boy and clings to her just as hard, even if the sudden shift in his mom's personality confuses him

shes pretty close with the other kiddads, especially sparrow and grant since theyre close friends with nicholas post-season 1. shes perpetually confused by why, but the kids all think shes the coolest mom on earth and are very happy to tell her so (its because she's been to jail.)

[simplybybea]

In which @tilda-rothery had a dancing idea and I joined in with all my years of ballroom and Latin dancing and watching strictly.

It was SO MUCH FUN to co-write this with you! Even funnier when we were both working on the same section and watching words appear as if by magic! And for all you were adamant it was gonna be a small one shot we BOTH knew that was not how it would end up 😅😅😅😅

Pippa had thought Hecate Hardbroom to be beautiful before, but to meet her in person is an entirely different matter. The TV screen, or the pictures in the magazines didn’t do her justice at all.

She is exquisite. Her hair pulled back into a tight bun, making her look quite austere, revealing the long, graceful line of her neck, the curve of her jaw. Pippa can't help but feel warm and fuzzy all over, wanting to trace the pale skin there with her fingers. She opens her mouth wishing to find her voice – she’s never had trouble finding out before, but for the first time Pippa finds herself lost for words.

It’s impressive really.

A Strictly Come Dancing/Worst Witch AU nobody asked for 😅 co-written with the fabulous @simplybybea ❤️ whose dancing knowledge has been invaluable. I have had an absolute blast writing this with you ☺️ thank you, my dear friend, for collaborating with me on what was supposed to be a small one-shot 😂

[madewithspice]

Connie Springer Headcanons

Something for the bad bitches who hype up my bald boy. Enjoy.

Connie collects random shit like the tabs of coke cans, the ketchup packets from takeaways and empty water bottles but that’s more because he’s too lazy to throw them out.

He can’t wink to save his life but he’ll “wink” at anyone. If you make eye contact with him, he’ll look like his eye is having a breakdown.

Connie writes down all the jokes he thinks of in one notebook because one day he’ll be famous and he can sell it. Most of the jokes are cringey puns and insults he used against Jean.

Connie is tatted like crazy. He has a full sleeve on his left arm snaking up to his neck. Lots of small tattoos that Sasha drew for him. He definitely got the heart with “mum” inside it as a dare from Ymir. Has a small matching JSC tattoo with Sasha and Jean.

His favourite artist would be Eminem and he takes pride in the fact that they’re both “bald” and have swagger. He also listens to Post Malone and is secretly a Taylor Swift and Little Mix fan.

Boyfriend Connie would be sweet and goofy. You’d think he’d throw jokes around and laugh at you but never would he disrespect his baby like that. His insults are for everyone but you.

He’s the type to drool a little while sleeping and his snoring, Lord have mercy, his snoring is earth trembling.

Connie was the kid walking around school with a speaker (I think the whole fandom agrees on this). Starting a mini rave in the canteen - just typical Connie behaviour. Definitely would play Who Let The Dogs Out? when teachers come to break up a fight.

Uni student Connie just stinks of weed. He’s your go-to guy for a chill time. He’s well known around the campus and likes to think he’s a trendsetter for his peers but his whole vibe is pretty mainstream.

Connie is weirdly good at dancing. He can go from Shakira’s hip wiggling to Snoop’s high shuffle dances. Very good at the couple dances too. Play a bit of light jazz and he’ll be spinning you around the room like he’s a Disney prince. He taught the other boys how to dance for their school prom. Sasha has a video of Connie spinning and dipping Armin which is strictly for the gang only.

Don’t mess with Connie, he has the dirt on anyone and everyone and wouldn’t hesitate to create chaos. Eren learnt this the hard way when Connie posted the video of Eren practicing kissing on his hand after he had drew on Connie’s face while he was sleeping.

- Kiki.

[possessingtheproperspirit]

I'm so excited for Murder on the Dancefloor! Just wanted to let you know 🙈♥️

thank youuuuu <333 I'm hoping to get more written this weekend/week coming! for now here's a teeny snippet...

“And now, to reveal your professional partner…” Tess is almost fit to burst with excitement. The dramatic music hums in the background. “The person who could help you, James Potter, score a century on the dancefloor—”

(Unlikely, James thinks, given that the maximum score is forty, unless they’re bringing in six new additional judges, which would be quite the format change—anyway. He needs to get used to cricket puns. He has a feeling they’ll come thick and fast during his Strictly journey.)

“—is the one and only, Lily Evans!”

The crowd erupts in whooping applause. James’ gaze flicks over to the woman in question, the red-head whose smile is fixed, bright, to the point that most probably wouldn’t be able to notice the fact that it doesn’t quite meet her eyes. Excellent. She hates him already. 

“Oh wow!” he exclaims, as she skips over to him, glittering sequins dancing round her thighs as she moves. “No way!”

“My sporting hero!” Lily beams, throwing her arms around him in a showbiz hug—all shoulders, no chest, and certainly no hips. “Oh, it’s going to be great!”

[that-gayyy-bitch]

I have this headcanon that the Gryffindor Quidditch team were little shits, that Oliver could barely control, so he made a rule board, which started off pretty normal but got out of hand.

I imagine it was like this: (This is the Quidditch team in the first 3 books.)

1. Quidditch is not just a game. People who think otherwise will face the wrath of Mr Wood.

2. Mr Wood is NOT a cane to beat people with.

3. Don't let Fred and George near anything. Anything.

4. Friendly reminder that the chasers aren't secretly super Ministry spies who could kill with one glance if they wanted, no matter what Fred says.

5. Hufflepuff's seeker is not secretly a badger.

6. Harry is our baby-secret weapon, and must be protected at all costs.

7. Keep the Chocolate Frog Card stash away from Alicia and Katie.

8. Playing 'Spin the Broomstick' and '7 Minutes in the Broom Cupboard' is forbidden.

9. All pairing names are forbidden. Especially Johnwood and Wooter.

10. Oliver Wood is not a walking sexual innuendo.

11. Anyone who says 'Morning Wood' will be high-fived punished.

12. Harry I don't care if your scar is hurting, just catch the snitch for Merlin's sake.

13. People who say Fred and George are the same will be attacked by bludgers.

14. Incidentally, if Fred and George pretend to be each other one more time, they'll be attacked by bludgers when they're least expecting it.

15. The next person to ruin Wood's date by saying 'He's a keeper.' then winking is off the team.

16. Betting on how many times Wood will fall off of his broom is forbidden.

17. Beaters are not code words for prostitutes.

18. Anyone heard singing 'We saw Oliver's butt' will clean the broom cupboard for a week.

19. Discussing if twins are exactly the same EVERYWHERE is forbidden.

20. Oh they're not exactly the same. ;)

21. Fred and George are now forbidden from writing on the rule board.

22. Friendly reminder that Angelina is not to be trusted with our clothes, and the next time the twins convince her to take them, the three of them will be picking them out of the lake themselves.

23. Singing 'Potter for captain' and 'How will Potter end up in the Hospital Wing next?' is banned. (On weekdays.)

24. Insulting Slytherins is allowed if they start it, but if you don't want us to get disqualified, please refrain from sneaking live spiders into their quidditch robes.

25. Katie is not allowed to hold anyone down and give them a makeover.

26. George is not allowed to help.

27. Pranks wars between the Weasleys and the Chasers are forbidden.

28. Dragging Harry into these wars as bait is also forbidden.

29. Selling strands of Wood's hair to first years is strictly prohibited.

30. If Fred and George are huddled together, it's bad and they must be separated before someone's broom turns into a marshmallow.

31. Angelina and Alicia will refrain from singing 'We're the most sassy quidditch team on the planet with the best butts ever.'

32. Fred and George will not join in.

33. Fred and George will NOT EVER AGAIN show their butts no matter how 'glorious' they are. Well they are. No Katie.

34. Harry will not ask 'Where do babies come from?' in earshot of rival quidditch teams.

35. Professor McGonagall is not a cat who's animagus is a human.

36. Alicia will not ring a bell in Wood's ear every time he says Katie Bell, Katie, or Bell.

37. Bad puns are banned everyday except for Thursdays.

38. Though spraying shampoo on Professor Snape's head and blaming it on Zacharias Smith was funny, refrain from doing it in front of McGonagall.

39. 'Touching Wood' for good luck is prohibited.

40. Shipping McGonaWood is hilarious creepy and needs to be stopped.

41. Fred, George and Katie will not turn all of the Ravenclaw brooms into squirrels when they're not looking, even if 'It was only a joke' and 'We were going to change them back.'

42. Oliver Wood does NOT sleep with a toy golden snitch. Well he totally does.

43. Fred and George will refer to rule 21 and keep their filthy mouths shut.

44. Holding out a broom in front of your body and sniggering 'long' and 'hard' is immature and will be banned.

45. Threatening to shove broomsticks up people's butts/nostrils is not a good way to taunt any rivals, Slytherin or not.

46. Harry is NOT the Gryffindor mascot, and will not be forced to wear a lion costume and dance.

47. If it is heard that anyone has been insulting the team then rule 25 will be overlooked.

48. Reminder that Oliver Wood puns are banned, and any new ones will banned. Unless they're really good. No.

49. Playing '(Oliver) Would You Rather?' is forbidden.

50. Draco may be a slimy git, but de it's prohibited to turn his hair colour to red and gold, no matter how hilarious he looks.

[randomvarious]

The Black Dog - “Chase The Manhattan” Blech II: Blechsdottir by PC & Strictly Song released in 1995. Mix released in 1996. IDM / Ambient Techno

***Song starts at 29:26 and ends at 30:52***

A little taste of the hair of The (Black) Dog today, eh? 😁 Sorry. A post on Fact Mag's website provides a nicely concise graf about this legendary IDM and 'intelligent techno' trio from Sheffield, England:

One of the UK's most iconic and inventive electronic acts, The Black Dog was founded by Ken Downie with Ed Handley and Andy Turner. They released several ear-catching 12"s before signing to Warp Records and delivering the Bytes LP in 1993. Over the next couple of years and under various aliases (most notably Balil) the group would, along with Aphex Twin and Autechre, help establish and develop an intense, investigative post-rave "listening music" that drew upon breakbeat, Detroit techno, ambient and classical minimalism, and which lent itself to sombre reflection as much as, if not more than, dancing.

Although The Black Dog is still going strong to this very day, the original trio of Downie, Handley, and Turner broke apart after the release of the group's third album, 1995's highly acclaimed Spanners. Contained on that album is a great track called "Chase The Manhattan," which ended up making a brief appearance on an amazing mix put out by Warp called Blech II: Blechsdottir, mixed by PC & Strictly Kev, aka DJ Food, of the NInja Tune label.

In his review of Spanners, critic Ned Raggett describes the track like so:

"Chase the Manhattan" may have a cringeworthy pun of a title, but the brisk funk/world percussion beat, soothing synth washes, and distorted electronic bass stabs all come together wonderfully.

Yup! You can certainly hear some techno in the drum rhythms, and you can hear the ambient in those synth washes, and while I don't think you really hear much in the way of classical minimalism or breakbeat, you do hear that Roland TB-303 acid being appropriated from the warehouse raves of just a few years ago and now being used for a mind expanding, 'home listening' post-rave experience instead.

And yes, there were all sorts of electronic acts at the time who were trying to cook up mishmashes of all types of bits of sounds from all kinds of different scenes and places, but it’s difficult to find a group that could pull that off in ways that were more uniquely intriguing and satisfying than this mythical, early-to-mid-90s electronic Cerberus, The Black Dog.

P.S. Check out the post I made about the mix that this song appears on, Blech II: Blechsdottir by PC & Strictly, here, if you're interested. I consider it as one of the most astounding DJ mixes ever made and a must listen for anyone who likes electronic music that’s weird and abstract, but not too weird and abstract 😅.

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine, by Roger Scruton (2009)

You could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.

- Sir Roger Scruton, I Drink Therefore I Am: A Philosopher’s Guide To Wine

When I first got talked into investing in the dreams of my two cousins and their French families to continue to manage an old French vineyard I thought of Roger Scruton’s book. I already had this book on my shelf alongside his other works. Re-reading it nudged me to take a risk and go for it.

For one I have always loved wine and have drunk it from a very early age. Secondly what could be more cultured or civilising than to marry body and mind through the palate of philosophy and wine?

And finally, and perhaps more importantly, the opportunity to escape the madness of modernity - as well as make peace from war as a British combat veteran of the Afghan war by not so much as coming home but finding a new one - by getting back into nature with hard honest graft on the land that Mother Nature blesses.  All of this I found especially appealing.

Of all the things we eat or drink, wine is without question the most complex. So it should not be surprising that philosophers from Plato and Socrates onwards to our contemporary times have turned their attention to wine: complex phenomena can lend themselves to philosophical speculation.

Wine is complex not just in the variety of tastes it presents – ‘wine tastes of everything apart from grapes’, I once heard a crusty old French vintner say – but in its meaning. Only the most woodenly literal-minded would deny that wine has a meaning: in its history, its role in human social life, in religious and other ceremonies. Though they drink it copiously over dinner at High Tables in their Oxbridge colleges, academic analytic philosophers do not spend as much time as they might in this kind of investigation of meaning or significance of wine – what we might call a phenomenology or a hermeneutic investigation.

Of course, there are more narrowly phenomenological questions which wine raises.

How do vintners or winemakers manipulate the underlying biochemical material to create the kinds of taste which they intend their wine to have? Does the ‘terroir’ of a wine really make a difference to taste, and if so how? What is the basis of evaluative judgements about the quality of a wine?

Arguably only those who actually make the wine and those who are life long wine connoisseurs can conceivably answer that on some experiential and technical level. But these are not the only philosophical questions in this area: the hermeneutic questions have their place too, in an understanding of the phenomena.

Sir Roger Scruton’s 224 page book is about the hermeneutics of wine rather than its psychology or phenomenology more narrowly conceived. Scruton, the late great conservative philosopher, is that rare breed who comes closer than most to bridging the gap between the grass roots and the High Table in answering such mysteries.  The result is an engaging, insightful, informative and (in parts) a very funny book. It is immensely readable, more in the anecdotal style of Scruton’s England: an Elegy (2000) or On Hunting (1998), than his more heavyweight philosophical works, such as The Aesthetics of Music (1997), Sexual Desire (2004), Beauty (2009), and his writings on Wagner and high culture. He does often come across as curmudgeonly, but his (written) relations with women, music and poetry are very delicate and tender. And so it is with his love affair with wine. It is indeed a very personal book and its is warmly personable, like the man himself, and it contains so much of Scruton’s distinctive wit and intellectual personality, it ought to be of interest not just to wine enthusiasts (whom Scruton likes to call ‘winos’) and philosophers but also anyone curious enough to understand the place of wine in our world civilisation.

The first and obvious thing to say about Scruton’s book is how the title of the book is of course a play on words. It’s a playful wink to Eric Idle’s “Philosophers’ Drinking Song,” in which the Monty Python cast, lightly disguised as a group of Australian philosophers all named Bruce, list the world’s thinkers from a drinking standpoint. This includes the couplet slightly amending Descartes’s proof of his existence: “And René Descartes was a drunken fart / ‘I drink therefore I am.’”

The pun on words is Roger Scruton’s way of taking the Monty Python couplet seriously. After all Descartes was a serious man and though he was born in Touraine, the rich French wine region, did probably not drink much. He treats all this as a paradox that G.K. Chesterton might well have toyed with - that is, as a truth standing on its head to attract attention - and examines the drinking of alcohol as a way in which human beings learn more about each other, fellowship, some of the deeper realities, God, and not least themselves.

In this Scruton is a wise philosopher who teaches us how wine cultivates our moral virtue and our civilisation. He encourages us to recognise that stream of liquid descending from our pursed lips into our throat as the red or golden chord that runs from heaven to earth, and binds everything in-between into a cosmic whole. Wine both reflects and helps constitute our participation in all strata of reality, and points the way to our redemption, divine or otherwise.

In Scruton’s Prelude (a musical term, of course) where he quotes Emerson “who commends the great wino Hafiz [a Persian poet] in the following words: “Hafiz praises wines, roses, maidens, boys, birds, mornings and music, to give vent to his immense hilarity and sympathy with every form of beauty and joy.” This is echoed in Scruton’s terms that “by thinking with wine you can learn not merely to drink in thoughts, but think in draughts. Wine, drunk at the right time, in the right place and the right company, is the path to meditation, and the harbinger of peace.”

The book is divided into two parts, labelled ‘I drink’ and ‘therefore I am’ respectively. The second part of the book is more strictly philosophical - Scruton starts it with the nice conceit that ‘therefore I am’ contain the whole of philosophy, each word standing in turn for reason (therefore), consciousness (I) and being (am). But arguably wine and Scruton enthusiasts will probably get more out of the first part.

The first chapter is a nice description of his own discovery of wine as a young man. Warmly written, the chapter is devoted to his friends who made him “fall” for wine (or is it he who made them fall?) and his acquisition of a 1945 Château Lafite, “the greatest year from the greatest of clarets”. His first memories are happy ones of his mother’s home manufacture of elderberry wine in a post-war England where the French (and Spanish and Portuguese) grape had not yet “conquered the suburbs.”

“For three weeks the kitchen was filled with the yeasty scent of fermentation. Little clouds of fruit-flies hung above the jars and here and there wasps would cluster and shimmer on the spilled pools of juice.” Other Englishmen of Scruton’s generation will recognise and sigh at this description as many fathers - including my own - made his own beer and wine from motives of both fun and economy.

Thus ill-equipped, Scruton goes to university ignorant of the rich variety of wines available even then to an English wino. At Cambridge and, later, in Paris, a succession of tutors, patrons, and friends not only introduce him to a growing list of wines but also teach him how to drink them. Some of the wines he is given are complex and expensive Burgundies, others cheap French supermarket vin ordinaire.

But Scruton discovers that all have certain inherent qualities that an educated palate can discover by drinking them attentively and appreciatively. By learning their provenance and history, he enriches his knowledge of the locality that produced the wine — and he can imagine (I would like to believe this is so) that he can glimpse the character of the local people in the wine itself. He learns finally that certain wines go with certain things, not merely certain foods, but certain occasions, certain friends, certain thoughts, even certain topics of conversation. He becomes a wino.

When in his early middle years, Scruton buys a farm in southern England, he discovers to his delight an array of homemade-wine equipment, identical to that of his mother’s elderberry experiments, on the kitchen floor: “I listened to the bubbles as they danced in the valves, and studied the wasp-edged puddles on the tiles. I had come home.” Yet it is a different person who comes home. Scruton celebrates his good fortune not with elderberry wine but by opening and drinking in quiet happiness a treasured bottle of Château Lafite 1945 that had accompanied him in the long wanderings now ended. For, by this time in his life, Scruton is a confirmed Francophile in his drinking tastes.

The chapter ends on a remark concerned with the “new habit, associated with American wine critics like Robert Parker, of assigning points to each bottle” which should not only be “viewed with nothing but contempt” but also compared to “assigning points to symphonies, as though Beethoven’s 7th, Tchaikovsky’s 6th, Mozart’s 39th, Bruckner’s 8th all hovered between 90 and 95.

Perhaps his second chapter ‘A Tour de France’ is the best one. This is a very personal, but informative and interesting, guide to Scruton’s favourite French wine regions. starting in Burgundy, down to the Rhône Valley, the Pyrenees and ending in Bordeaux with T.S. Eliot’s description of a spiritual journey that applies equally to a journey through wine:

We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring


Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

With much reason, Scruton does not think very highly of blind tasting: “To think that you can judge a wine from its taste and aroma alone is like thinking you can judge a Chinese poem by its sound, without knowing the language.” I let out a whoop of appreciation when I read this. In one clean swoop he casually casts aside the resultant snobbery that comes from the ritualising and self-importance of blind tasting events.

I think blind tasting whilst sincere is also an exercise in showing off. I’m not saying people don’t have a nose for wine or can tell certain elements but blind tasting is not the best way to truly appreciate the full complexity of wine. Indeed in my embryonic wine making experience (by watching my cousins and the managers on our vineyard) I would say terroir is perhaps one of the most overlooked aspects of wine making and it determines the difference between good wine and a bad one.

It’s great to read that Scruton defines himself as a terroiriste. Not the French word for a terrorist! But a believer in the French word, terroir. It is derived from the Latin word terra meaning earth or land. It’s a word coined by the French to express a wine’s sense of place. There is no English equivalent for this word. It was originally used to distinguish the wine making practices of old world wine. In other words terroir is how a particular region’s climate, soils and aspect (terrain) affect the taste of wine alongside the traditions gone into producing the wine. Some regions are said to have more ‘terroir’ than others. Johan Joseph Krug (1800–1866), the famous champagne producer, once suggested that “a good wine comes from a good grape, good vats, a good cellar and a gentleman who is able to coordinate the various ingredients.” No trace of terroir.

But I think Krug is wrong and vintners as well as the wine industry as a whole have come to the same realisation of the importance of terroir. Back in the 1980’s, many of these ‘terroir-driven’ wines were actually affected by wine faults including cork taint and wild yeast growth (brettanomyces). Vines thrive in a range of soil compositions from highly draining granite and schist based soils to limestone and clay and vines, in turn, react to these different soils in different ways. And on top of the differing soils, certain areas of the world have such unique combinations of geology and topography that interact with specific sun exposures that the resulting wines have distinct characteristics that cannot be found anywhere else.

Nowadays terroir is used to describe practically every wine region. Because much of European wine (old world) is steeped in tradition it is easier to get a sense of terroir. It’s a bit harder in a place like Napa or Sonoma (new world) because of the looser laws that govern winemaking but younger winemakers are coming around to the idea of terroir and trying to express the land. But certainly in France today vintners - as they come to increase their geological knowledge and environmental understanding and find ways to marry that to their unique artistry and craft - have realised the unique role terroir plays in the wine making process.

The next chapter looks at wine from “elsewhere:” Here Scruton looks at the Middle-East where wine was born; Greece where Bacchus, Dionysos, and more importantly, Eros used to hover; the United States; Australia, New Zealand and their misspelling of Syrah as Shiraz, the Iranian city of poets, gardens, nightingales and last but not least, wine; a few lines on South Africa, then Italy, Romania and Spain. But “travel narrows the mind, and the further you go the narrower it gets. There is only one way to visit a place with an open mind, and that is in the glass”.

Scruton had already warned the reader in the previous chapter not to read the “elsewhere” chapter: “After punishing body and soul with Australian Shiraz, Argentine Tempranillo, Romanian Cabernet Sauvignon and Greek Retsina, we crawl home like the Prodigal Son and beg forgiveness for our folly. . . [Bordeaux] is the wine that made us and for which we were made, and it often astonishes me to discover that I drink anything else.”  I rather fancy he is being tongue in cheek here.

This is for the “I drink” part of the book. Its author then moves to the “therefore I am” part which often needs much deeper philosophical knowledge than perhaps than even your average educated layman might have some difficulty having if they are not versed in a basic  understanding of aesthetics as philosophical discussion. But here his aim is to rescue wine from the philosophers and the so-called wine experts.

To those who have never been captivated by the complexity of wine and the way it is bound up with western civilisation, a book on the philosophy of wine might be dismissed as the typical product of conservative snobbery and elitism. But this would be a mistake. Scruton is not a snob about wine (nor, for that matter, about anything else). On the contrary, one of the strongest themes in his writing is his deep love of the everyday, of the simple pleasures of society as he imagined it once to be, where people were at one with the land and with the traditions of their culture. According to Scruton, this is something that (although it probably never existed) should be open to all, but which is being destroyed by the march of modernity. (In a nice aside, he asks: ‘Who am I to stand against the tide of history? Come to think of it, I am the only person I know who does stand against the tide of history’.)

In passing, Scruton evokes the great philosopher Avicenna who lived in Isfahan (Persia) during Islam’s Golden Age (980–1037 AD); he was a wine aficionado who recommended drinking at work defying “the Koranic injunction against wine, citing it as an example of sloppy reasoning,” that does not take into account whether it is a small or a large amount. Scruton (p. 133) also points to the fact that “in surah xvi, verse 7 of the Koran wine is unreservedly praised as one of God’s gifts. As the prophet, burdened by the trials of his Medina exile, became more tetchy, so did his attitude to wine begin to sour, as in Surah v verses 91-92. Muslims believe that the later revelations cancel the earlier, whenever there is a conflict between them. I suspect, however, that God moves in a more mysterious way.”

Scruton is very quite skeptical that the vocabulary used by so-called experts to describe wine is of much help: “If I say of a wine that it has a flowery nose, lingers on the palate, with ripe berry flavours and a hint of chocolate and roasted almonds, then what I say conveys real information, from which someone might be able to construct a sensory image of the wine’s taste. But I have described the taste in terms of other tastes, and not attempted to attach a meaning, a content, or any kind of reference to it. The description I gave does not imply that the wine evokes, means, symbolises or presents the idea of chocolate; and somebody who didn’t hit on this word as a description of the wine’s flavour would not show that he had missed the meaning of what he drank or indeed missed anything important at all. Our experience of wine is bound up with its nature as a drink [which] endows wine with a particular inwardness [and] intimacy with the body [that is not] achieved by any smell, since smell makes no contact with the body at all, but merely enchants without touching, like the beautiful girl at the other end of the party. . . Nothing else that we eat or drink comes to us with such a halo of significance, and by refusing to drink it people send an important message —the message that they do not belong on this earth.”

Again, I found myself saying amen to that.

The good part of the second part is Scruton trying to make a case for the cultural uniqueness of wine. In one sense, Scruton is right to do this: it is undeniable in many parts of western culture, wine has played a unique role in religious and social rituals, which no other drink has. But he can push his point beyond plausibility when he attempts to argue that because of the qualities of wine itself – and what it is to drink it properly – nothing else could play this role (more on this later).

The argument starts well, with a very illuminating discussion of the distinction between the various ways in which a substance can intoxicate. There are those that merely stimulate without altering the mind (like tobacco, for example). Then there are those which have mind-altering effects, but whose consumption itself brings no plea- sure (e.g. heroin). The third category contains those things which alter your mind and bring pleasure in their consumption: cannabis and forms of alcohol other than wine are his examples. Wine, Scruton argues, is in a fourth category of its own: here the alteration of the mind is internally related to the experience of consuming it.

These distinctions are very useful, and the distinction between the third and the fourth category is subtle but certainly real. It relates to the question of what non-human animals can and cannot do. Scruton makes the nice observation that an animal cannot savour wine (or any- thing else). In being able to savour or relish the taste of wine, a person no more separates out the effect of the wine from its taste than they can separate the meaning of a piece of music from its sound. Although one would not realise this from reading the thousands of words that are written daily about wine, wine would not be the drink it is if it did not intoxicate.

The last two chapters deal respectively with wine and whine, and being and bingeing. Though Scruton has something to say in favour of Puritanism, he castigates the ease with which “puritan outrage [and in particular, prohibition, but also sexual behaviour] can be displaced from one topic to another, and the equal ease with which the thing formerly disapproved of can be overnight exonerated from all taint of sin.”

He vehemently protests against “the humourless mullahs,” and the misuse of drinking, but also rejects the idea that fermented drinks are just shots of alcohol, and insists on their social functions across civilisations and time: “The burden of my arguments is that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is a culture, and that this culture has a social, outward-going, other-regarding meaning. . . When people sit down together sipping drinks, they rehearse in their souls the original act of settlement, the act that set our species on the path of civilisation, and which endowed us with the order of neighbourhood and the rule of law.” But he has not much against drinking alone, and ends with a few words from the Chinese poet Li Po (700 BC), the same poet whom Mahler used in his Lied von der Erde (though in a very approximate translation):

A cup of wine, under the flowering trees;
I drink alone, for no friend is near.


Raising my cup I beckon the bright moon,

For he, with my shadow, will make three men.

Scruton points out in several brilliant passages, the prohibitionist, like the modern day Islamists and moral police in the West and the all too familiar binge-drinker are alike in their ignorance of the virtue of “temperance.” They can envisage no stopping place between abstention and alcoholism. Their absolutist logic, he argues, is like objecting to a first kiss on the grounds that it will one day lead to a divorce. And neither can really understand drinking for any reason other than to get drunk. 

Scruton confirms the wider value of temperance in our lives: “Virtue should be cast in human form if it is to be humanly achievable. Saints, monks, and dervishes may practice total abstinence; but to believe that abstinence is the only way to virtue is to condemn the rest of mankind. Better to propose the way of moderation, and live thereby on friendly terms with your species.”

As it happens, the occasional bender may actually have therapeutic qualities in moderation (i.e., if indulged in infrequently). George Orwell, who can hardly be accused of lacking a puritanical streak, thought that people should get drunk every six months or so. The experience, he thought, shook one out of one’s regular complacency and could be compared in this to a weekend abroad. Certainly it very often produces a feeling of greater humility in those who can remember what happened. Yet getting drunk is something that most drinkers do very rarely, if at all.

Changing our mood and outlook is a very different matter. Under the influence of a moderate amount of alcohol, our inhibitions are loosened. Shy people become bold, the tongue-tied talkative, the dull lively, the unimaginative fanciful, and the isolated social. (Even “mean drunks” usually start the evening in festive and forgiving mood.)

That last loss of inhibition is the most important because it promotes the fellowship that is the basis of a decent society. Not all intoxicants perform this vital function. Cannabis and similar drugs tend, if anything, to imprison the taker within his own consciousness (however expanded it may seem to him in his dreams). Except for those who lose themselves in alcoholism (and consequently become asocial in their attempts to deceive others about their condition), however, alcohol is a profoundly social drug. At the same time, not all varieties of alcohol are equally social in their effect. This thought leads Scruton to narrow somewhat the scope of his enthusiasm. Having rejected teetotalism, he continues: “The real question, I suggest, is not whether intoxicants, but which. And - while all intoxicants disguise things - some (wine preeminently) also help us to confront them by presenting them in re-imagined and idealised forms.”

Scruton makes a fascinating and intriguing point related to our historical relationship with the vine to make wine the highest ideal form. He claims that wine derives from a crucial historical transition in our relation to the earth – when human beings settled, put down roots and stopped being mere hunter-gatherers. In a memorable phrase, Scruton claims that in this way wine celebrates ‘the earth itself, as the willing accomplice in our bid to stay put.’ But of course one could say similar things about distilled spirits and beer. Such drinks are not made in such an incredible variety as wine is, but Scruton’s point is not about variety but about the intrinsic and relational qualities of the drink itself.

In the end, one cannot help feeling that he is relying a little too much on the sheer panache of his writing to help his argument bounce along: ‘Wine is not simply a shot of alcohol, or a mixed drink. It is a transformation of the grape. The transformation of the soul under its influence is merely the continuation of another transformation that began maybe fifty years earlier when the grape was first plucked from the vine.’ Wine is a transformation of the grape, to be sure. And the mind or soul is transformed in its consumption. But these two transformations are so very different that it is hard to see what can literally be meant by the one being the continuation of the other.

In fact, Scruton’s view is not just that wine is unique as a stimulant, but that it has to be drunk in a particular way in order for the harmony of taste and intoxication to take hold. It is not hard to agree with Scruton’s argument that there are more or less civilised ways of drinking wine. And this part of his thesis is very plausible: ‘The burden of my argument is ... that we can defend the drinking of wine, only if we see that it is part of a culture, and that this culture has a social outward-going, other-regarding meaning. The new uses of wine point towards excess and addiction: they are moving away from the old way of drinking, in which wine was relished and savoured, to the form of drinking typified by Marmeladov, who clutches his bottle in a condition of need.’

However I still found all this a tad unconvincing in that he makes a case that only the savouring and relishing of wine can play a central cultural role as opposed to other spirits - think of Scotch whisky for the Scots and beer for much of Northern Europe or even tea(!) for the English. So my apologies to Roger Scruton but I remain sceptical of his argument that of all stimulants, wine is uniquely civilising, however much I want it to be true.

I think Scruton is also wrong to despise cocktails. A well-made cocktail is as complex a set of taste experiences as a good Bordeaux. A good-strength cocktail is the perfect prelude to the theatre, giving one exactly the right lift to help the play to entertain, but not suppressing one’s appetite long enough to spoil a post-theatre dinner. It can be the booster rocket that starts a convivial evening. But the cocktail has its limits. The alcoholic strength of most cocktails reduces their usefulness both as an aid to sustained fruitful conviviality and to the kind of imaginative introspection that Scruton thinks necessary for a happy life.

That aside, Scruton knows that the best (including Li Po’s poetry) should be kept for the very end. The bouquet (of the wine, but in French the word is also used for the finishing of a firework) comes with the Appendix: What to drink with what, though here the second what does not stand for food, but for philosophers. This part of the book I very nearly coughed up my wine as I found it terribly amusing to pair a suitable wine, as one would with food, to a philosopher one might be reading.

St Augustine: Drink a glass of Moroccan Cabernet Sauvignon, though “the City of God requires many sittings, and I regard it as one of the rare occasions when a drinking person might have legitimate recourse to a glass of lager [which I did in Odessa, while reading Scruton], putting the book to one side just as soon as the glass is finished” [which I did not do, since I had three glasses, each of which containing half a liter].

Francis Bacon: “Any discussion of his insights should, I think, proceed by the comparative method. I suggest opening six bottles of a single varietal—say Cabernet Franc- one from the Loire, one from California, one from Moravia, one from Hungary, and if you can find two other places where it is grown successfully you will already have given some proof of the inductive method—and then pretending to compare and contrast, taking notes in winespeak, while downing the lot.”

René Descartes: “As the thinker who came nearest, prior to the Monty Python, to stumbling on the title of [my] book, Descartes deserves a little recognition. . . He has ended up as the most overrated philosopher in history, famous for arguments that begin from nothing and go nowhere. I would suggest a deep dark Rhône wine [that] will compensate for the thinness of the Meditations.”

Baruch Spinoza: “The last time that I understood what Spinoza meant by an attribute it was with a glass of red Mercurey, Les Nauges 1999. Unfortunately, I took another glass before writing down my thoughts and have never been able to retrieve them.”

Immanuel Kant: “And when it comes to [his] Critique of the Judgment, I find myself trying out [several wines], without getting any close to Kant’s proof that the judgment is universal but subjective, or his derivation of the ‘antinomy of taste’— surely one of his most profound and troubling paradoxes, and one that must yield to the argument contained in wine if it yields to anything.”

Friedrich Nietzsche: “Although we should drink to the author of The Birth of the Tragedy, therefore, it should be with a thin, hypochondriac potion, maybe a finger of Beaujolais in a glass topped up with soda-water.”

Edmund Husserl: “I recommend three glasses of slivovitz from Husserl’s native Moravia, one to give courage, one to swallow down the jargon, and one to pour over the page.”

Jean-Paul Sartre: “Sartre’s great work of philosophy, L’être et le néant, introduces the Nothingness that haunts all that he wrote and said. . . If ever I were to read Sartre again, I would look for a 1964 Burgundy to wash the poison down. Small chance of finding one, however, so there is one great writer whom I shall never again revisit—and I thank God for it.”

Martin Heidegger: “What potion to complement the philosopher who told us that ‘nothing noths’? To raise an empty glass to one’s lips, and to feel it as it travels down—noth, noth, noth, the whole length of the tube: this surely is an experience to delight the real connoisseur.”

In conclusion I really enjoyed reading this book (again and again).

This is a wonderful book for anyone who loves wine and wants to try identify what, in all its complex connections with so much of what is valuable in civilisation, might be special about drinking it. I think he does a wonderful job in looking at the philosophical and religious questions related to wine, from the Koranic injunction against alcohol to the true nature of temperance. These questions take us far from the vineyard at times, making excursions into terroir as different as Wagnerian music dramas and the philosophical nature of smells. His arguments as well as his beautiful prose are fresh, original, teasingly provocative, but also joyous.

This book is only about 224 pages but fun to read either in one sitting or dipping in and out at pleasurable intervals.

There are pages of useful advice on what wine to buy that are also glimpses into what to look for in the wine. I think his recommendations are good ones even if he leans too heavily into French wines. As someone who co-owns a vineyard I can say with reasonable confidence that I know my French wines but also wine from South Africa but confess my ignorance of wines from the new world such as California or Chilean wines. But I see that as an opportunity to discover rather than stay in my comfort zone. Here Scruton gently prods you along to do just that.

As an aside Scruton, who never shies away from his staunchly conservative Tory beliefs, perhaps forget to mention one juicy vignette in that Karl Marx’s political and philosophical ideas were probably inspired by wine. Indeed Karl Marx’s family were the happy owners of a vineyard in Trier, a small affluent Rhineland city, on the rolling hills of the Mosel River Valley. The family sold it due to hard times. Then as now these vineyards of the Mosel Valley remain mostly small-scale, are still known for their fruity white wines, and especially their lemony Rieslings and agrotourism. It seems the politics of wine (tariffs and import taxes) played a larger role in the history of leftist thought than their quaint appearance might suggest. In the early 1840s, the economic struggles of these very vineyards inspired Marx to criticise the draconian Prussian government - and in the process, some historians argue, begin developing the theory of historical materialism for which he is best known. In fact there is a delightful book I can recommend written by Jens Baumeister called, ‘How Wine Made Karl Marx a Communist’ (2018) if anyone is interested in reading more about that.

Of course it’s always hard to know how seriously one is supposed to take Scruton in some of his more extravagant comments in the book, like many things he says in his other books: ‘you could say that wine is probably as old as civilisation; I prefer to say that it is civilisation, and that the distinction between civilised and uncivilised countries is the distinction between the places where it is drunk and the places where it isn’t.’ His desire to outrage and court controversy rises to the surface, and can result in some of the funniest moments in the book. But as with everything he writes, some of Scruton’s claims must be taken with a pinch of salt or more appropriately, with a glass of claret.

Indeed I prefer to picture his words as if he was one’s old and familiar drinking companion sitting on weather beaten leather chairs and making provocative but teasingly good natured remarks out of a desire to amuse rather than to be boorish or loutish. Indeed this book is best enjoyed with a glass of wine on hand whilst sitting on a comfy old worn out leather chair curled next to log burning fire as the light dims outside.

I would whole heartedly agree with Roger Scruton that wine is a “drink that causes you to smile at the world and the world to smile at you.” Instead of imprisoning you inside a solitary introspection, it takes you out of yourself - and your ideas with you - to mingle with others and their ideas. Wine is therefore a voyage of discovery - and rediscovery - in many senses. And for this I can happily raise my own glass and say amen to that.

But what glass of wine would I raise when reading Scruton’s own book?

Well, one bottle won’t do. So temperance is out of the window then - sorry Roger. You will need a good  French Sauternes or Barsac (preferably 2014) with the nostalgic autobiography, a finely bodied Bordeaux wine (I would go with a more complex wine from Saint Emilion) with the philosophy section of the book, and a champagne (of course) to drink with the philosophical jokes towards the end of the book.

Oh go on then, finish off with a tipple of Cognac before bed time, I am sure Scruton wouldn’t begrudge anyone that pleasure.

[eurydicees]

i adore this au have more theatre club hcs (first post is here) bc i don’t have the energy to write an actual fic (though i might do it later when i have more time and less emotional fatigue, ironically i’m exhausted because i’m doing a show rn):

tamaki loves musicals. like he LOVES them. he can sing for days— his only weakness is his dancing. they do “bye bye birdie” and he gets cast as conrad but hikaru nearly kills him because he just can’t get the steps and conrad’s “whole THING is the DANCING, tamaki!!!!” 

that being said, when he sings “honestly sincere” half of the audience nearly passes out. (“Oh, baby! Oh, honey! Hug me! Suffer!”) 

more on bye bye birdie: hikaru is albert, haruhi is rose, honey is the brother (sry i forget his name lmao), renge is the mom, kaoru is the dad (kaoru singing “kids these days” is the funniest fucking thing i’m sorry), mori is hugo idk who kim or everyone else is fuck i forgot how big this cast is 

hikaru and kaoru once propose that they do “cats,” but they couldn’t get the rights 

in addition to shows, they also do a coffee shop cabaret yearly

tamaki always comes out with a show stopping song (one time he sings “being alive,” and, though kyoya will never admit it, the rendition makes him cry)

kyoya and mori do a scene from a shakespeare show together (they’re both unsure of themselves when it comes to acting, so they choose each other to do the scene with bc they both think, though they can’t compare to haruhi or renge’s acting, that at the very least they can be better than the other) 

haruhi refuses to participate if they don’t have to, so kyoya ropes them into organizing and running all the tech shit (which is incredibly overwhelming, but they manage, somehow) 

i think i said this in the last post, but mori does the lighting design for the all the shows, and he’s absolutely brilliant at it, but his real specialty is stage fighting 

when they do “romeo and juliet” he gets cast as tybalt solely on the basis of his skill with a sword (kaoru is mercutio, because he’s both a dramatic homosexual and the only one who can keep up with mori) 

tamaki allows himself to explore his gender via theatre— it’s a safe way to dress up and wear makeup and fuck around with gender norms without making a big deal of it

he starts requesting female roles on the dl (since they still only have one woman and an afab nonbinary person)— it comes as a surprise to everyone except kyoya, who was directing the first show that tamaki got the lead female role in, and somehow knew exactly what tamaki needed (yet again we see the top notch director/sm pair working together without question or confusion) 

the show was “romeo and juliet” (like i talked about before) and tamaki played juliet to haruhi’s romeo (it came as a shock to the rest of the school when the cast list went up, and tamaki was super nervous about it, but the hosts were all really supportive even when the rest of the school was a lil apprehensive)

he absolutely killed it as juliet (pun intended) 

sorry this turned into tamaki gender exploration hcs back tO THEATRE

their show schedule is intense for high schoolers: a musical in the early fall and late spring, a one act in the winter just before break, and a full length play to celebrate the start of the spring semester

each show performs for a friday and a weekend, and then closes— tickets are hot commodities

they spend about two months rehearsing for each show; and kyoya holds them to a very strict rehearsal schedule— miss a rehearsal for anything less than literal death, and you’ll have to face his wrath 

most of them don’t really plan on going into theatre professionally, but they have a lot of fun while in high school 

kyoya likes being sm because it helps with his organizational skills, which he’ll def be using as ceo for whatever business he ends up running into new heights 

honey just has fun with it— chika thinks it’s a waste of time, but honey likes to make the argument that he practices martial arts via stage fighting (unfortunately, the haninozuka method is strictly banned from the stage— they use non-lethal methods only, thank you very much) 

haruhi ends up actually really liking theatre, and they spend their free time finding new plays to read, and end up proposing a few of them for their one act show in the winter

kaoru secretly starts writing his own plays, just for fun (when the other hosts find out, they want to produce the shows, but he refuses)

[ghostgothgeek]

Blush. Chapter 7

Hello! Finally another update!

Rated M for language and actual sex ed talk.

FFN || AO3

---

“Hey guys,” Sam smiled warmly at her two friends as she shut her locker. “How’s it going on your end?” 

Danny didn’t look directly at her, but muttered a “hey”. 

Tucker snickered next to him. “Oh, I think Danny is having the time of his life!” Danny elbowed him in the ribs, “Ow! Hey, I even used a life or death pun for you!” 

“That bad, huh?” Sam laughed. “Can’t say I’m doing any better though. By the way, Danny, I’m going to have to...warn you about a few things. Your secret is still safe, but there’s still going to be gossip about you. Both of your halves.” Sam shut her brain down before she went back to that fantasy. “Sorry, I really tried. The girls at this school are indubitably so fucking stupid, they wouldn’t know what the actual truth is, even if it bit them on the nose. Honestly, how they even made it to twelfth grade is beyond me.” 

Tucker noticed Sam getting all worked up and frowned. “Hey, the day’s almost over though!”

“Huh? Wait, what do you mean gossip?” Danny finally looked up at her. 

“Ugh, Paulina has some twisted thoughts.” Sam rubbed the sides of her head as she tried to calm down. “She’s been the biggest pain in the ass all day. Just be prepared for any gossip that Phantom flies commando, and know that I tried to stop it.” 

Danny’s eyes went wide, “why would they-?” 

Tucker busted out laughing, “You HAVE to tell me how that happened!” 

“Ugh guys, please not now.” She grabbed each of their shirts and pulled them towards the cafeteria. 

“Man, I wish I had my PDA! I hate being out of the loop!” Tucker complained. 

Sam unpeeled her banana, trying to ignore any innuendos and return to normalcy, as she listened to Tucker’s bellyaching. She took a large bite as her stomach growled. If Skulker hadn’t shown up on the way to school, she probably would have been able to actually grab some breakfast before this whole ordeal. Sure, she had a salad waiting for her, but that wasn’t going to cut it today. 

“Damn, look at Manson deep throating that banana like a pro!” Dash quirked. Danny snapped his head to look over at Sam. Oh god. Woah...wait NO!

Without missing a beat, Sam chucked her half eaten banana at Dash, hitting him directly in the face. She smiled proudly as Tucker chuckled next to her. 

“Nice shot, Sam!” Tucker held his hand out for a high five, which Sam returned. Dash made an attempt to take a jab at her, but Kwan stopped him. Kwan had to protect both of his “best friends”, after all. 

Danny was silent, unable to comprehend his enjoyment of Dash’s misery at Sam’s behalf. That’s my girl, he had thought. Ugh, why? Why did he keep coming back to this? Sam is just a friend. Dash’s dumbass comment just stirred the pot even more. Now Danny had a new fantasy about his best friend to worry about. He looked over at Sam again and blushed before quickly looking away. With the amount of times he’s blushed today, he didn’t think it was possible anymore. And what is she talking about with all these rumors?

Tucker nudged Danny with his elbow and raised an eyebrow at him as Sam caught up with Valerie and raced for the salad bar. “You okay? I thought you’d always dreamt of Sam hitting Dash in the face.” Tucker laughed to himself. “I know I certainly have.” 

“Not the only dream of Sam I have…” Danny muttered to himself. 

“What?” Tucker looked at his friend again.

“What?” Danny looked back at him confused, grabbing a tray after Tucker. 

“What was that now?” Tucker smirked as he grabbed two burgers. Terrific, Tucker had heard him after all. 

“Nothing,” Danny said sternly before grabbing some mac n cheese. 

“Uh huh.” Tucker’s smirk grew as he piled more food onto his plate. 

“It’s nothing!” Danny insisted as he grabbed the rest of his food and followed Tucker to their table.

“Alright, alright. Calm down dude.” Tucker sat down and immediately took a bite of one of his burgers. 

“Sorry,” Danny sighed. “Between dumbass number one and dumbass number two over there,” he pointed towards Elliot and Dash, “I’m not thinking straight.” 

Tucker nodded and swallowed as Danny took a sip of his drink. Tucker looked over at Sam, pursed his lips, then paused for a moment before saying, “you know, Sam is actually pretty hot, now that I think about it.” 

Danny spit his drink out across the table and started coughing. “What?!” 

“Oh relax, I’m not gonna steal your girlfriend or anything,” Tucker rolled his eyes as Danny muttered some “she’s not my girlfriend” line. “I’m just saying. I mean, she’s super cool and fun to hang with, she looked great at the freshman dance, and she already has made mini skirt Friday an everyday kind of deal! Like if she just lost the tights or whatever, holy smokes. And like, dude, she has boobs. BOOBS. We’ve been so close this entire time!”

Danny caught his breath and scoffed at Tucker before realizing he kind of had a point. If Danny had learned anything that day, it was that he definitely had conflicting feelings about Sam. It wouldn’t surprise him if other guys started noticing her more as well. Actually, they had, if you counted dumbass number one and dumbass number two.

Danny forced out a small laugh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, I kinda…” He trailed off before getting a nod of encouragement from Tucker, silently letting it be known that this conversation was strictly between them and would most likely never be repeated again. “I mean, she’s Sam and she’s so pretty and smart and cool and she hangs out with us, like what the hell? And I ran into her in the hallway earlier after dealing with Johnny 13, and I was bleeding and stuff and her boobs were like, right there in my face while she was trying to help me and with all this dumb sex talk, I had to run to the bathroom before anything happened or became noticeable. I’ve been embarrassed more than enough for one day.” 

Tucker let out a loud laugh and slapped Danny on the back. “Damn, dude. I didn’t think you’d ever admit anything.” Danny’s hand immediately went to rub the back of his neck and his face turned crimson for the millionth time that day. “So you ran into Sam, huh?” Tucker wagged his eyebrows suggestively and laughed again when Danny threw a fry at his face. “Don’t worry, dude. I still respect the bro code. I won’t say a word. But like, excusing the fact that she’s like a sister to me for a second, what were they like?” 

Danny opened his mouth as he thought of something to say, before jerking forward after Dash slapped him on the back (hard) and took a seat next to him. “You’re talking about Manson, right? She is pretty hot. You’re a lucky man, Fenton.” 

Was Dash actually...being nice to him? Because he thought that he and Sam were actually...doing things together. What the fuck was happening today? 

“What’s she like? Really?” Dash stole one of Danny’s fries. 

“She’s definitely feisty, that’s for sure.” Elliot smirked as he sat across from Danny. This asshole again?! 

Danny made tight fists under the table. “Shut the fuck up and leave Sam alone! You guys dated for like a week! That’s nothing!” 

“It was enough to cover all of the bases, if you know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.” Elliot smirked while holding up his phone with the picture on it and leaned back in the chair, nearly falling over as Danny stood quickly from the table, shaking it in the process. He was ready to pounce. 

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Danny growled as he got all up in Elliot’s face. Elliot accepted the challenge. 

“No, I don’t think I will. But what I do think will happen is me and Sam again.” 

Dash raised an eyebrow at the two boys arguing, “What’s with this? Is Manson like, secretly a sex goddess or something? Maybe I’ll hop on that too.” 

Danny’s eyes flashed green for a brief second before almost being knocked over by Tucker, who shoved him out of the way.

“You have a phone?! How did you sneak that in? Can I please have it for five minutes? Please?!” Tucker made a grab for the phone as Elliot held it behind him. 

“Depends. What kind of dirt do you have on Danny and Sam?”

“Oh man, where do I start?”

“TUCKER!” Danny glared at his friend, not believing he was actually considering this. 

“Oh man, this I gotta hear.” Dash leaned in for a better listen. 

“Okay, one timeback in middle school, Danny-” Tucker’s sentence was muffled as Danny slapped his hand over Tucker’s mouth.

“Shut the fuck up!” Danny hissed. 

“Oh no, please go on,” Elliot smirked as he waved his phone in the air, “You may just buy yourself 2 minutes.” He tried removing Danny’s hand from Tucker’s mouth.

“Get lost, Elliot.” Danny stood from the table and stared him down again. “Tucker isn’t that desperate.” 

“Eh, I think he is,” Dash chimed in. “Foley looks like he’s about to shit a brick.” All three boys looked at Dash, just now remembering he was there. 

Across the cafeteria, Sam raised an eyebrow at the crowd around their usual table and looked back at Valerie. “Thanks again for having my back in there. I really owe you one.” 

“Nonsense. If anything, take it as repayment for how much you guys have saved my ass from ghosts. And for me trying to kill your boyfriend.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend, but thanks.” Sam grabbed a tomato from her salad bowl and popped it in her mouth. “Hey Val, do you want to sit with us?” 

Valerie grinned, “Love to, thanks. And he’s not your boyfriend yet. I’ll help get you there.” 

Sam laughed. “Okay, sure. We really should hang out more, you know. I need a boost of estrogen every once in a while.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Valerie stopped in place for a moment, staring at the guys at their table. Sam followed where Valerie was looking and ran closer to her friends. 

“What the fuck is going on?!” Sam yelled as they approached the group of guys who were trying to tackle each other across the table. Danny and Elliot were staring each other down as Elliot held his phone as far back behind him as he could while Tucker, half on top of the table, reached for it. Dash was actually the most civil at the table. They all paused and fell silent as she spoke up. All four of them were staring at her with a weird expression on their faces. “What?” She questioned cautiously, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. Valerie snickered to herself, taking a wild guess as to what (or who) the boys had been arguing about.

“Uh, nothing.” Danny forced Tucker back into his chair and sat back down next to him. “They were just leaving.” He glared at Elliot.

When the faux goth and the jock refused to move, Sam slammed her tray down on the table. “Get the fuck out of here before I start kicking people. I have my good boots on today.” 

Elliot was the first to make a move to leave. “Told ya, feisty.” 

Dash stood as well as he looked Sam up and down. Actually not that bad. Fortunately, Sam missed that, but Danny hadn’t. He was practically seeing red as Dash returned to his own table. 

“We’ll talk after lunch!” Tucker whispered to Elliot as he passed by on the way back to the other end of the cafeteria. 

“What was that all about?” Sam sat down and stabbed her salad with her fork before taking a bite. 

“Elliot and Dash are being shitheads and pushing all of Danny’s buttons today,” Tucker announced as he started his second burger.

“Do I wanna know?” 

“No.” Danny picked at his food, shutting down that conversation.

Valerie sat down next to Sam and across from Tucker. Noticing his fidgeting, she smirked, “Must be a tough day for you, huh? No technology of any sort?” 

Tucker groaned, “It’s killing me! It may actually kill me!” 

“Stop being so dramatic, it’s only been a few hours and we’re almost done,” Sam pointed her fork towards Tucker, “You wouldn’t believe all the shit I’ve had to go through today.” 

Danny looked up at her, “What happened? Are you okay? Did anyone say anything to you?” He glanced over towards the A Listers’ table, where everyone was passing around Elliot’s stupid phone and making crude noises and gestures towards Danny when they noticed him staring. He flushed again. 

“Chill, I’m fine. I’m just apparently the school’s gossip victim for the day.” 

“Yeah, Paulina has been pretty ruthless today,” Valerie pointed out as she started her lunch. 

“Fuck!” Sam groaned, which gave a certain part of Danny’s anatomy some life again. “I got salad dressing all over my leggings.” She started unlacing her boots. 

“W-what are you doing?” Danny squeaked.

“Taking them off. I don’t want to smell like vinaigrette for the rest of the day,” she started peeling off her leggings and with a brief hand from Valerie, she crumbled them into a ball and tossed them into her backpack before she started lacing up her boots again, careful not to lift her legs too high for anyone to accidentally see anything. 

Tucker’s eyes widened slightly, as if his conversation with Danny earlier had somehow summoned this to occur. He looked at Danny and raised an eyebrow as if proving his point. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Danny warned lowly. 

Valerie hid her smirk behind her hand as Danny gripped the table. Danny and Sam were both smitten with each other and both so, so oblivious to the other person’s feelings. 

“Anyway, uh...yeah, you’re probably going to hear some gossip, just please know it’s not my fault.” Sam sighed and took another bite of her salad. “Honestly, how I have gone almost 4 years without seriously injuring Paulina is beyond me.” 

“I’ll admit, I’m a little shocked too. But you definitely wanted to deck her after she said you were cheating on Fenton with Phantom,” Valerie chuckled as Sam whipped her head towards her and sent her a menacing glare. Valerie just shrugged, knowing damn well what she was doing. Danny and Sam just needed a little nudge, and she was gonna give it to them.  

“Oh my god, WHAT?!” Tucker burst out laughing, some of his soda coming out of his nose in the process. Gross. 

Danny’s head snapped up as a light pink blush dusted his cheeks. “Uh, w-what? Paulina thinks...you and I...and you and Phantom?” 

Sam groaned as she set her empty tupperware container back into her backpack. “Yes, Princess Shit-For-Brains thinks I’m intimate with both sides of you.” 

“At the same time?” Danny asked.

“Oh I don’t need to hear this!” Tucker covered his ears.

Sam kept her head down, hair covering her face, as she blushed a deep dark red. “I tried to stop it, I swear.” 

“Suuuureeee you did. I bet you hated that implication,” Tucker smirked. 

Sam managed to whack him in the back of the head from across the table, nearly giving Danny another pleasantly unfortunate view once again. 

“Hey! When I said I wished girls would hit on me, this is not what I meant!” Tucker rubbed the back of his head and readjusted his beret. 

Sam smirked. “Be careful what you wish for. Desiree can pop up at any moment.” Tucker’s eyes widened.

“Desiree?” Valerie whispered. 

“Genie ghost. Gotta be super careful around her,” Sam replied. Valerie nodded. 

“I...uh, okay...well, thanks? For...trying to stop it?” Danny said uncertainly. He had noticed in the past that when he was Phantom, his emotions definitely were stronger and he had always felt more overprotective of Sam. As Phantom, he almost seemed to have less control over his emotions. 

“No problem,” Sam muttered quietly.

“Okay, but can you please explain the “Phantom goes commando” thing?” Tucker leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.

Danny hiccuped, and to his relief, it was his ghost sense. Oh thank god. He stood up, receiving a few looks from the other tables.

“I gotta run, I need to...basically die of embarrassment elsewhere,” Danny said slowly. Nobody seemed to think much of the phrasing. Though Tucker and Sam both immediately caught on.

“I’ll come help you not die,” Sam replied. Anything to get out of this situation. She elbowed Tucker before standing as well. “Come on, we need to help Danny not die.” Tucker waved her off, as Valerie finally understood what was happening. 

“You two lovebirds go on ahead,” he told them, “they’ve got this,” he whispered to Valerie. Danny narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t go around telling a bunch of our secrets,” Danny spoke with an underlying threatening tone. Tucker nodded.

“Of course. But you are losing your fries,” he informed him, and the teen helped himself to the remaining fries on Danny’s plate. Danny accepted this, and he motioned for Sam to follow him. “Also…” Tucker threw a condom at Danny. Danny shot him a look and let the condom bounce off of his chest and land on the floor. Sam hastily grabbed her backpack, and they both fast-walked out of the cafeteria, earning several stares and eyebrow wags. 

Danny groaned, “Ugh, fuck me!” He was sick of this.

“Damn, well now we know who initiates it. Never pictured Fenton to be the dominant one,” Dash laughed. Danny growled and began to turn around before Sam pushed him forward and out of the cafeteria. 

“Not now. We probably have Kitty and I assume Johnny to worry about right now.” Once out of the cafeteria, Sam pulled out her wrist ray and put it on. She searched for her pocket knife in her boot, pulling out the Ecto Lipstick Laser by accident. “Ahh!” She dropped it as if it had been on fire and watched it roll down the hallway. Danny raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing!” She quickly replied as she ran forward to grab the weapon and put it back in her boot. “It’s just the Ecto Lipstick! I swear!” She said a little too loudly. God damn the Fentons for making their inventions look like vibrators. God damn Planned Parenthood for pointing that out in the first place.

“I know?” Danny raised an eyebrow at her as they rounded a corner. “Let’s just get rid of Johnny and Kitty and hope that takes up the rest of the day.” 

“Oh, there you two are!” Speak of the fucking devils.

Danny flinched as he turned to see the ghostly pair that had been harassing them both all day. Kitty and Johnny stood together, both grinning excitedly.

“Can’t you guys just go fuck around with each other and stop fucking around with us?” Danny complained. Kitty gave a small scowl.

“We’re trying to help,” Kitty insisted. “I know Johnny already talked to you, but I’m pretty sure he left out some important stuff, like make sure you wash your hands. Clip and file your nails so that they’re not sharp or super long, make sure your hands aren’t freezing. Foreplay is very important.”

Danny wanted to die. He glanced at Sam, who seemed to mirror his emotions. Her face was red, and she wasn’t even looking at the pair, instead digging through her backpack. Likely in search of the Fenton Thermos. 

Johnny gave an amused scoff, and he waved his hand. “Nah, it’s not that important,” he replied. Kitty shot him a look that could re-kill Pariah Dark himself. Johnny instantly seemed to realize his mistake.

“Yes. It. Is,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

“I mean, we could overshadow you to show you how it’s done if you want,” Johnny suggested. 

Danny and Sam both froze, eyes wide, and turned a brilliant shade of red before spitting out objections.

“NO! Nope! Not necessary!” Danny yelled as he covered his eyes, thinking that would somehow block the mental images in his head. “I can’t...Sam...ughhh. No, gross.”

“Well don’t seem too excited now,” Sam spat sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the process.

“N-no! It’s not that I wouldn’t want...I mean you’re pretty and...I like...I mean, you...what do I mean?” Danny groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“Oh, dude,” Johnny shook his head, “don’t go there unless you want to be sleeping on the couch.” 

“But I-” Danny started until Sam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Chill out, Romeo. Now is not the time to remove your foot from your mouth.” She removed her hand before Danny licked it. That was something Danny and Tucker did. Ugh, boys.

“Nice touch ditching the tights though. You definitely had boys’ heads turning...even a few girls’.” Kitty tried to get them back on track.

“Uh, what?” Sam looked down at her legs. 

“Yeah, even that big blonde sporty kid was saying some pretty graphic things about you,” Johnny added.

“WHAT?!” Danny snapped his head back towards the cafeteria. 

“Oh that hit a nerve! Jealousy works, you know. That’s how I keep bringing Kitten back to me,” Johnny grinned.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “Yes, that is exactly what happens.” Her sarcasm was almost as good as Sam’s.

Danny completely ignored the ghosts bickering, focusing his attention on Sam. “Did you hear that? DASH was talking about you like that! I’m gonna kill him…” He trailed off as he made a fist and looked back towards the cafeteria. 

“Danny, chill. It’s not a big deal. Dash isn’t into me because I spilled salad dressing on my tights,” Sam rolled her eyes and set her hand on Danny’s shoulder to bring him back down to Earth. 

Danny swapped his attention back to her. “Uh, no...look, I mean, you’re very attractive and you’re only wearing a crop top and a mini skirt, it’s an easy step away from imagining you naked.” Sam raised an eyebrow as she put a hand on her hip. “N-not that I am imagining that, and not that I wouldn’t want to! I mean of course I’d want to, it’s just - you’re just….I’m going to stop talking now.” He glanced down at the floor and hoped he could somehow dig himself out of this pit that he just kept digging deeper for himself.

Sam pressed her lips together, both amused and flattered with only a hint of embarrassment, “You think I’m very attractive?” 

“And he wants to see you naked,” Johnny added. 

Danny’s eyes widened before he snatched the thermos from Sam’s hand, his face burning. “Alright that’s enough of you two!” He promptly sucked them into the thermos, spitefully shaking it a bit before putting it into his locker. “They can sit there the whole weekend for all I care.” 

“Do you though? Think I’m attractive?” Sam asked shyly. “I feel like you and Tucker just see me as one of the boys and that’s how everyone sees me. I’m not cute like Paulina and Star.” She saw the panicky look on his face and smiled a bit, “I’m not going to hurt you if you answer this one. You have a free pass.” 

Danny looked like he was having an internal debate in his head about whether or not she was telling the truth about letting him off the hook, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew she really wanted an answer. He never would have guessed that Sam was a bit insecure. He gulped before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh…” Was he really about to admit this? Out loud? To himself? To her?! He couldn’t help it, she was giving him a free pass. He started at her pale legs and trailed his eyes up her body to her perfect hips, pausing at her breasts for a few half seconds longer than he probably should have, and finally setting on her face. “Yes,” he choked out, his voice husky, “very much so.” 

Sam relaxed a bit at his answer, feeling relieved. She smiled softly as she approved of his answer, and then that smile became quite sinister. “And you want to see me naked?” 

Danny was a deer in the headlights, opening his mouth to speak before deciding against it. He couldn’t tell if this was still part of the free pass or if she was just fucking with him now. He was mostly sure it was the latter. He grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway towards the classroom. “Yeah okay, don’t wanna be late for that sex ed class!” 

Sam laughed heartily as he hastily fast walked them from one personal hell to another. 

[virgilantejustice]

A Winter’s Journey

Hi @turbovickiii!!!! I really hope you like this, your prompts really helped me get out of a rut, and I just really hope you enjoy this. And, of course, a merry Christmas!!

I don't believe I need to add any warnings, but let me know if I'm wrong.

@sanderssidesgiftxchange

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The air was cold. Spitefully cold. Far colder than it needed to be. 

Roman muttered to himself as he trudged through the full six inches of snow that covered the path to the cabin. Spitefully cold.

Why on earth they had decided to rent a cabin for Christmas was beyond him. It had been his idea of course, but that doesn't mean that the others should have /listened. Why didn't one of them point out that his car could break down halfway down the several mile long track through the middle of nowhere slap bang in the middle of a snowstorm?! Obviously that was going to happen!

But, Roman would be damned if he didnt make it to that damn cabin, even if he had to walk the four miles left. Again, an absolutely terrible idea, but Roman never was the logical one, and Logan was waiting for him there, and he couldn't wait to hear his beloved tell him what a total idiot he'd been.

Arms crossed firmly across his chest, teeth chattering, feet numb in their snow filled boots, Roman marched with a stony expression of (slightly exaggerated) grimness. He did think at one point that he should probably make a pun about romans, y’know, marching, get it? But the cold is freezing his creative flow! His brain was slowing down! He could practically hear Logan's voice in his ear telling him that he was being ridiculous, but he didn't care.

Finally, after several thousand years of trudging down that blasted track, Roman saw a wooden structure. Small, slightly run down, but it was shelter.

“Thank the Gods,” Roman breathed into his hands, the slight warmth making his hands feel a little less icy.

He breathed out again, deeply, through his mouth. There was just something about how the air seized the moisture that he exhaled and turned it into his own little cloud. For all his bitterness towards the bitter cold at that particular moment, Roman saw beauty in that little puff of mist. He saw beauty in most things, and certainly in every season, but there was something about winter that captivated him as he walked down the snow covered path. The crunch of the gentle flakes under his boots, the swirls of frost on the gnarled bark of the trees, the jagged lacework of cracks in every frozen puddle. To be fair, I suppose it is expected to see more beauty when your arduous voyage is nearing its end.

“See," he grumbled through chattering teeth, “we could work together, you beautiful bitch.” He was referring to winter, of course, because addressing an entire season is a perfectly normal thing to do, at least it is in Roman’s eyes.

It seemed to him that he quickened his pace in excitement when he saw the reddish-brown walnut wood walls, but in all honesty, that last straight was as painfully slow as the rest

He was practically falling over himself by the time he reached the heavy wooden door of the cabin, and he silently prayed that there weren't /two remote, wooden cabins down this road and the right one was actually a further two miles, because, well, just no.

Fingers too numb to turn the handle, Roman sort of just whacked his hands against the door, wincing when his brittle skin, dried out from the cold, cracked with each impact. He prayed again (wow, twice in a day after a lifetime of agnosticism, it's funny what the cold’ll do to you) that Logan had in fact already arrived.

“Good lord, what happened to you?!” 

Logan opened the door, and, frankly, looked a little more shocked than was /strictly necessary (at least in Roman’s opinion).

“And a merry Christmas eve to you too, my darling,” Roman replied indignantly, gently pushing Logan out of the way and soaking in the warmth of the cabin. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes a fire crackled softly in the grate, casting warm, dancing patterns across the inside of his eyelids as he turned, exposing his whole body to the heat, like a pig on a spit, happy to roast for a while.

A hand on his arm roused Roman to open his eyes to meet a pair of bespectacled ones. He leaned forwards for some kind of hello kiss, but Logan stopped him with a warm hand to his chest and a raised eyebrow. Logan looked at Roman’s lips. “You're bleeding,” he said plainly, turning towards the corner of the room sectioned off by a countertop which they optimistically called the kitchen. 

Roman peeked his tongue over his lips and felt a split down the bottom one. "So i am,” he said, equally as plainly (in proportion to their usual levels of exuberance, of course). The ice that had slowly begun to build up in his eyelashes was melting, and nature's own tears dripped down his face. He licked them from where they settled in the corners of his lips.

"Here," Logan said, handing him a damp paper towel, but when Roman reached out to take it, Logan clasped his hands with surprising urgency. "Your knuckles!" He said, looking increasingly concerned as Roman's icy fingers sucked the warmth from his own.

Roman looked down and was almost surprised himself that he hadn't been in some kind of fight, judging by the cracked and shredded skin on his hands.

"You should see the other guy," he chuckled, but Logan gave him a stern look.

"Hand cream and mittens," he said, somewhat absently as he began to look for the aforementioned items. "And for goodness sake get changed, you're soaked through."

"Care to help me with that," Roman smirked as he came up behind Logan and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

"Stop stealing my body heat and go!"

Rolling his eyes, Roman grabbed his bag and found one of the bedrooms (it wasn't hard, seeing as the two bedrooms made up half of the rooms in the house).

He rummaged through his rucksack, felt something soft and pulled. A pair of thick pyjama trousers, hoisted out by the ankle, were followed by a pyjama top that, by some cruel twist of fate (or perhaps Roman was just really bad at packing) did not match. Roman glared at the non-matching pyjamas as if it would make one of them change colour. 

They did not change colour. 

Disgusting.

Huffing and puffing, Roman pulled on the hateful garments, then shivered. Please say I packed a hoodie, he thought as he delved once more into the breach of his rucksack, once more, please easy I packed a hoodie.

His fingers touched something soft and he grabbed it and he pulled.

His bag pulled back.

He pulled harder, grunting with the effort, but his bag held on tight in its cruel game of tug-of-war.

“What’s going on?” Logan asked, standing with his arms folded in the doorway, his tone incredulous.

“This fiendish bag won't yield my hoodie!” Roman glared at the bag for a moment longer before shivering again. “I’m cold,” he said quietly.

“Of course you are,'' Logan sighed, coming forward and, somehow, and with no effort on his part at all, extracted the somewhat stretched hoodie from the bag and threw it gently to Roman.

He missed Roman entirely, so Roman picked it up off of the ground and slipped it over his head, hiding the unmatched pyjamas.

“Come on, you ridiculous human being you, your hot chocolate is getting cold.”

“No! Not the cocoa! You fiend!” Roman addressed winter as a season again, leaving Logan standing in the doorway, a little perplexed, but let's be honest, not surprised to be so.

Roman wanted to drink his hot chocolate then and there (I mean, who wouldn't) but Logan maintained that it could be reheated and stubbornly pushed the lotion into Roman’s hands.

Logan glared until he had put on so much hand cream that his skin stubbornly refused to absorb any more, leaving a slick over his hands that Logan immediately shoved into mittens. 

Roman winced at the strange, slimy feeling that that combination induced, but Logan continued to glare, so Roman quietly submitted.

"I've never felt more beautiful," Roman sighed, leaning back across Logan's legs and delicately resting the back of one slimy, mittened hand on his forehead.

"You're always beautiful," Logan said quietly, brushing a strand of hair from Roman's forehead and pretending not to be looking at him as his cheeks turned just a little but pink.

Roman didn't say anything. He thought he would, it seemed like the kind of time that he would, but he didn't.

---------

The rest of the evening was spent on the sofa. Roman finally got his hot chocolate, and Logan listened and nodded as he excitedly went on about some new idea or another, smiling in the right places as he had learned to do, but Roman could see that his eyes were somewhere else.

“What are you thinking about, my darling?”

Logan had a strange expression on his face, part confusion, and then a whole mix of other emotions that Roman couldn't quite make out.

“Why did you walk here?” he finally replied. “Virgil and Patton broke down in almost the same place, but they're waiting for a repair service. Why did you figuratively freeze yourself solid walking four miles through a snowstorm?”

Roman looked up at his lover's face, the harsh edges softened by the glow of the fire, and he genuinely felt his chest seize with the love for that ridiculous nerd that resided there.

“Because I knew that you would be here,” he answered plainly.

Logan let out one of those short, breathy laughs of incredulity and said, “you're a fool. I've fallen in love with a fool.”

---------

As the night crept in and the light faded, Logan read by the flickering light of the fire, as Roman had persisted that they should by no means turn on the lights. (the conversation went something like this:

“But it makes no sens-”

“But the aesTHETIC!”)

Roman began reading, but soon abandoned that in pursuit of just laying with his head in Logan's lap with his eyes closed. It was warm and quiet and Virgil and Patton still hadn't arrived, but apparently the repair person had just arrived and was giving them a lift. 

The door opened with its characteristically deafening squeak, and Roman was just about to lift his head to greet his friends when he heard, “sshh! He’s sleeping!”

Feeling nice and sneaky, Roman decided not to pick Logan upon this just yet.

Virgil snickered, Patton squealed, the door closed.

“Don't say a word," Logan muttered dangerously.

"I didn't say anything, dude." Roman could imagine Virgil holding his hands up in surrender with a smirk and hand to pretend to shift in his sleep to hide a grin.

"You two are just so darn adorable!" Although clearly intentionally breathy, Patton’s excited words could barely be called a whisper.

A weight shifted on the sofa and Roman felt a new hand brush some of the hair from his face and tried extra hard to look as asleep as he possibly could. Patton, he was willing to bet. Virgil always preferred to fling his legs over the arms of the armchair across the room.

"He walked halfway here," Logan murmured, sounding fond, but ultimately unimpressed. 

“Goodness gracious, the poor thing.”

“Idiot.”

Roman bit his tongue.

“This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!”

“If we don’t freeze to death first.” Roman heard Virgil clamber up from his chair, presumably in search of blankets.

“You gave it your best shot,” Logan muttered, just loud enough for Roman to hear (if he was awake of course). Roman decided that asleep people could still squeeze gently and affirmatively on people's hands, so he did. Logan didn't stop stroking his hair, so he figured that he got away with it.

“Could I have one too please my Spooky Sweetheart?”

“Sure thing. Logan?”

“No thank you, I'm evoking William Harvey at this precise moment.”

Silence.

“William Harvey? Civil War doctor? Bodies for blankets- you know what, never mind.”

Presumably Virgil came back with the (non-corpse, thanks for that image, darling) blankets, and the soft chatter slowly dissolved into gentle, steady breathing of sleep.

Roman suddenly felt a wave of contentment wash over him. Drowsily, he felt around for Logan's hand and brought it close to his face. It was warm. He heard Logan sigh somewhere above him, but felt his fingers gently cup his chin. 

Real sleep crept closer and closer, and he knew that when he woke up, Christmas day would be ever so, ever so sweet.

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Taglist (tellme if you want to be added or removed):

@celeste-tyrrell @uwillbeefoundtonight @stop-it-anxiety @soakinforsif @combine-the-kitchens @randomavengersquotes

[becomewings]

What is the connection between hoseok n yoongi in the universe? Like we all knw the important pairs like taehyung namjoon, hoseok jimin n jungkook yoongi...

Note: the following refers to fictional characters and events in BTS Universe; contains brief mention of death.

I’m so glad that you asked this! While of course all seven characters are friends and the narrative frequently groups them into “main” pairings, it is important to remember that (like with real-world friendships!) their web of interrelationships is deeper and much more complex than that simple reduction. JiMin once explains:

“If anyone could truly tie the seven of us together as ‘we,’ HoSeok could. He embraced and protected ‘us’ like a shelter.” — JiMin, July 3 Year 22. The Notes 1.

This is a good foundation for the significant interactions that unfold later in The Notes 1 between HoSeok and YoonGi. For additional context, these occur weeks after JungKook’s accident (May 22)—after YoonGi tries to visit him in the hospital and instead flees, convinced that anyone who gets close to him will get hurt (June 15). We find out in HoSeok’s July 25 entry that he and YoonGi have shared a long friendship, although they’ve had their share of bumps along the way:

“I’d known YoonGi since middle school. I knew how his mom had died, how her death had impacted him, and how he’d struggled afterwards. I tried to be a comforting, reliable friend to him. I laughed off his harsh words and took him around even though he thought I was annoying. But we were of no importance to him. We thought at least JungKook must be different. He surely knew what he meant to JungKook. He’d already heard about JungKook’s accident from JiMin. But he didn’t come to the hospital.” — HoSeok, 25 July Year 22. The Notes 1.

This is also after HoSeok injured his ankle while carrying his unconscious friend to the hospital (July 4). On July 25, HoSeok runs into YoonGi while unintentionally heading to the dance practice room after his own doctor’s visit. YoonGi, stumbling and drunk, appears not to recognize him. In the entry from YoonGi’s perspective, he believes that HoSeok pretends not to see him. Ultimately, HoSeok goes back to him and snaps, condemning his recent actions and demanding explanations for his behavior. Later that night, HoSeok’s words haunt YoonGi as he stumbles through the rain on a mountain trail: “If you’re going to run away again, don’t ever come back.” Several days after that, he reflects further on how HoSeok’s attitude seems to have changed.

“‘Don’t you see we’re all hurting too? Don’t you see that?’ That was what HoSeok said the other day. … It wasn’t the first time that HoSeok had been angry with me. He’d never been on such edge, but he had always pushed, pulled, and encouraged me every time I fell. Why did it feel different? … I could see that I’d let him down. It felt as if something inside me was flopping and thumping around. HoSeok often got angry and pushed us. But he’d never lapsed into silence or looked the other way. He was the one who always paved the way for me to come back no matter how far astray I’d gone. Not this time. It seemed irrevocable this time.” — YoonGi, 28 July Year 22. The Notes 1.

This is the first time that YoonGi really articulates how close he is with HoSeok and how much he relies on his encouragement and optimism, guiding him through his darkest moments. When HoSeok believes in him, YoonGi can find a way to believe in himself. When HoSeok seems to give up on him and leaves town without a word to any of their friends, YoonGi must pull through alone—especially because, at this point, he is still adamantly avoiding JungKook.

Both HoSeok and YoonGi live and deal with the aftermath of that day’s confrontation in their own way. HoSeok travels to stay in a nearby city and meets a dancer-turned-artistic-director who rekindles his passion. Though given the option to continue touring with the dance troupe and their staff, he receives a meaningful lesson from the director about finding his “driving force” and decides to return home.

“I’d arrive at Songju Station in two hours. It felt thrilling. I hadn’t been pushed to hit my psychological bottom yet. … Maybe YoonGi had hit his bottom that day. ‘HoSeok.’ I’d turned around and walked on, and he’d called to me. I didn’t look back. I abandoned him when he was suffocating from his own despair. I ran away. ‘Are you okay?’ I sent this message after much hesitation.” — HoSeok, 12 August Year 22. The Notes 1.

In reply, YoonGi sends HoSeok a music file with his composition, which he finishes later in August.

“I changed the version I sent to HoSeok a few more times. I gave it the title ‘Hope.’ To be honest, the title didn’t actually match the piece. It contained my fear, cowardice, and inferiority. It contained all the moments I tried to avoid, get away from, and reprimanded myself for. But I couldn’t think of any other word that would encompass it all.” — YoonGi, 30 August Year 22. The Notes 1.

While the piece is not written strictly for HoSeok, it does seem emblematic of their friendship. HoSeok’s belief in him shows YoonGi that, despite his faults, he is capable of change and worthy of redemption. And I think it is also a lovely reference to the real-life HoSeok’s stage name, J-Hope.

I hope (no pun intended) that these excerpts provide a clearer picture of the connection between YoonGi and HoSeok—at least what has been revealed so far in the story! Thank you for reading. ♡ Do you have a favorite moment between them in BU that I didn’t mention? Let me know!

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary:  An offhand curiosity leads to Ladybug and Chat Noir riding his baton up as high as it can go. Or, as high as it can go before they get distracted. (It's just nerves about the height that has Ladybug's stomach in knots, she swears.) Ladynoir oneshot for @lovesquarefluffweek, dedicated to @rosekasa who made me a ladynoir stan

Word Count: 3511

XXX

Marinette rested her hands on her hips, watching in amusement as her partner finished wedging his staff in the crack in the dilapidated rooftop.

“This is a horrible idea,” she said idly.

His tongue stuck out as he tried wiggling the stick, ensuring that it was secured fast.  “Come on, Bugaboo, none of your ideas have ever been horrible.”

Strictly speaking, this wasn’t her idea. She’d only wondered how far Chat’s baron could extend, if its length was as infinite as her yo-yo’s string.  It was her ridiculous, adrenaline-junkie partner who wanted to ride the baton up as far as it could go.  

Not that it was that dangerous, really.  They’d done it a few times to scout for some akuma or another during attacks.  Besides, it would be nice to see the city from such a height without a threat looming over them—or below them.

“It wasn’t an idea. It was a question,” she still said on principle. “I didn’t think you were actually going to test it.”  

He rested his chin on the top of the baton and grinned.  “How long have you known me? I’m not majoring in Physics for nothing.” 

“You’re not majoring in Physics.”  She leaned in to flick his nose, which only made him grin wider.  “Not for another two months, and not ever if you become a pancake by pulling some stupid stunt before then.”  

“How could I hurt myself?  I’ll have my amazing partner right there to catch me if I fall.”  He winked.

Her stomach twisted like pretzel dough—from nerves about the height, that was all.

“Don’t go treating me like a parachute, kitty.  I’ll be more likely to rip my arm out of its socket if I have to yo-yo us out of this.”  

Or she’d have to use Lucky Charm and hope for an actual parachute, but it probably wouldn’t come to that.  Silly as her kitty could be, he never let her down when it mattered.

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be extra careful, I Pawmise.”  He crossed his heart with one claw, still grinning like he was already on top of the world.  

Ridiculous or not, this idea was worth it just to see him so excited.  He’d been bouncing all night since she’d agreed.  

“You’d better,” she warned, though her voice was warm.  

His grin reached Cheshire proportions as he wrapped one arm securely around the metal staff and extended the other to her.  “One catapult, going up.”

“Oh no.”  She laughed.  “Points for the pun, but please don’t tell me you’re going to launch us.” 

“I already said I’ll be careful.  Don’t tell me the fearless Ladybug is actually scared?”

“Pffff, you wish.  You just want me to hold on tighter.”  Her fingers threaded through his teasingly before slipping out just as he tried to kiss her knuckles.  

His lips pursed in a pout.  “You know me too well, my Lady.  ...But seriously, please hold on. I know you can catch yourself if you have to, but I’d really rather not drop you in the first place.”

“That makes two of us.”

She wrapped one arm around his waist and secured the other at his shoulder.  His feet lifted off the ground to brace against the staff, leaving his thigh as a comfortable seat.  

Enjoying this, huh?  She almost expected him to tease as she snuggled closer—because she did want to be safe.  It was almost disappointing when he neglected to quip though.  Maybe she wasn’t clinging tightly enough after all.

“So high do you think we’ll go?”  He asked, holding her by the waist as she finished getting settled.  “Think we’ll be dodging planes tonight?”

“I doubt it.  Even if we technically could go that high, we shouldn’t.  It’ll be freezing up there.”  

“What, afraid I won’t be able to keep you warm?”  He teased with a gentle nuzzle to the size of her head.

Had it always been this difficult to keep from leaning into his touch?  Not that she couldn’t, but, well—if she gave into his jokes, he’d have no reason to continue.

“Why don’t you just focus on getting us up there at all.”  She kept her voice flat, hiding any trace of that brief thought.

“Whatever you say, Bugaboo.”

For all his earlier joking, their ascent started fairly slow, more like an elevator than a catapult.  It gave her plenty of time to take in the sights below—the warm lights flickering from windows, divided by the dark swath of the Seine.  Streets radiating out from the Arc de Triomphe like spokes on a wheel, cars inching their way down them like little lightningbugs.  And of course, the Eiffel Tower, sparkling in the distance, a homing beacon that never failed to bring a smile to her lips.

Paris.  Their city.

“Pretty amazing, huh,” Chat breathed beside her. With their arms around each other and the glittering lights below, it was easy to pretend they were rulers surveying their kingdom.

...Chat had must have been calling Marinette Princess too much.  Or else his My Lady’s were going to her head.

Royal daydreams or not, though, there was no one she’d rather have beside her—no one else she could have beside her. And not just because it was his baton that held them aloft, his embrace that made her feel as secure as if she stood on solid ground.  She would have been crushed under the weight of her superhero mantle if he weren’t there to share it.  Staring down at just how many people depended on them, it was impossible to forget that.

“Does it ever feel like too much?”  She whispered the doubt that had been nagging at her more and more lately. She tried to stay strong for the team’s morale, but when it was just her partner and the hushed sky, her necessary barriers wore thin.  

“Does what feel like too much?”  He replied just as quietly.  His face turned to hers, emerald irises glinting in the moonlight, closer than she’d prepared herself to handle.

The pretzel twist in her stomach made a reappearance, but she was hardly thinking about the height.

“You know.  All of this.��  She couldn’t let go to gesture to the glowing city beneath them, but he seemed to understand anyway.  “We’re the only ones standing between all of them and two adult supervillains. And even after all these years, we still haven’t found them.”

Her voice cracked a little on that last sentence. The uncomfortable truth they’d been dancing around for the last few months—longer, really, but it became more and more urgent as lycee ended and they prepared to go to University. Most of their team of miraculous wielders (not Chat, of course) would be leaving Paris. This was the last summer they would be together, and the last summer they could be kids, only they hadn’t really been kids for four years now thanks to Hawkmoth and Mayura—

And maybe that was why she agreed to this crazy idea.  Because they were kids, dang it, and she deserved to do something silly and dumb with the one person she trusted more than anyone in the world.  She wanted to spend time with him outside of taking down Hawkmoth’s villain of the day.  She wanted them to just be together.

Wait.  Not together, together—just, like, as friends.  Who could spend time together without wearing magical suits and masks.  She wanted to sew them matching shirts, and text him cat memes at two a.m., and kick his butt at video games.  Which she could do as Marinette, but—she wanted him to know it was her, too.

The sheer force of that longing took her by surprise, and only multiplied her hatred for Hawkmoth a hundredfold.

“Hey, Little Bug,” Chat said softly.  His arm tightening around her dissolved the complicated web of her thoughts.  “We’re going to find him.  And it’s not just us anymore.  Pegasus is analyzing all the data Rena’s collected, remember?  And we’ve got her and Carapace alternating patrols with Ryuuko and Viperion.  We can even call in Queen Bee or Bunnyx or King Monkey if we need to.  We’ve never been closer to taking Hawkmoth down.”

He was right.  They weren’t alone.  They never would’ve survived the combined powers of Hawkmoth and Mayura if it weren’t for their team, especially since sentimonsters started regularly joining the fray two years ago.

Still, there was something about sitting with Chat among the pinprick stars that brought her back to before then.  When it was just the two of them against the world.

Was it weird that she sometimes missed that?

“I know,” she murmured.  Her forehead leaned against his chest, where the steady thump-thump of his heart calmed her own.  “Sorry, Chat.  I shouldn’t worry.”

“I don’t think anyone could stop you from worrying.”  His chin rested on her head, his warmth and familiar scent cocooning her.  Roses and leather and cheese, juxtaposed in a way that was so uniquely him.  “I doubt Paris would still be standing if you didn’t worry.  But it’s going to be okay.  I promise.”

The rational part of her brain wanted to ask how he could say that.  The newspapers cried out against them at every mistake, at every day that drew them closer to the fifth anniversary of Hawkmoth’s appearance.

But the other part of her brain, the part that had worked in tandem with him long enough that trusting him was second nature, calmed at his reassurance.  

“Who knows,” he continued.  “Maybe we’ll kick Hawkmoth’s butt before summer ends, and then we can throw a party before everyone splits for University.  The whole team can show up.  We’ll get Multimouse to bring the pastries.  Carapace can blast us some sick tunes.  I’m sure Queen Bee can get us a venue…”

Marinette giggled at the thought of all the miraculous wielders, unmasked and just hanging out like normal friends, no more worries than what they were going to do in University.  Alix and Kim would probably (definitely) end up in some kind of competition, powered by their miraculouses or not.  Luka would serenade Kagami with his guitar instead of Viperion’s lyre.  Speaking of which, Marinette wondered if Adrien’s brief stint as Aspik would mean he would be there… and how he would get along with Chat Noir.  For some reason, she had a feeling it would be odd to see them together.

Regardless, it was a dream worth fighting for.  A dream worth hoping for.

“I’m sure Multimouse would love that,” she said, hiding her smirk against his collarbone.  By the time such a party could happen, Chat would know the truth about her dual identity, anyway.  “I know I would.”

“There’s only one thing that would make it better.”  Chat’s voice turned teasing.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

He didn’t answer as they passed through a cloud, the dampness much colder and all around wetter than she was prepared for.  She shivered and sneezed, feeling her pigtails cling to the back of her neck.  Chat chuckled and brushed them aside.  His claws lingered for the briefest of moments on the sliver of skin between her suit and hairline.

“A private party,” he said softly.  “Just the two of us, before everyone else.”

She pulled back just enough to see his eyes again, intending to tease him about what kind of party he was asking for—but the sincerity and softness in his features stopped her short.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah.  So we can… I mean, I know I want…” he swallowed for a moment before quietly finishing, “I want you to be the first one to know who I am.”

They didn’t talk about revealing their identities often—mostly because she made it clear that they couldn’t, and she already thought about it enough without tempting either of them by saying it out loud.  He was Chat Noir, her partner and best friend, no matter who he was under the mask.

But maybe they should talk about it more, if he thought she would want anything else.

“Of course, Kitty.”  Carefully, since they were hundreds of kilometers in the air, she moved the arm at his waist to wrap around the back of his neck instead.  A few of his damp locks tickled her fingers even though the suit.  “I’ve always wanted you to be the first, too.”

His smile could’ve powered the whole city below.  “Then it’s settled. Pegasus finds Hawkbutt next week.  We storm the castle, Queen Bee Venoms him and Mayura, you rip their miraculouses off, we pound it, and we throw the biggest party Paris has ever seen.”

His optimism, if unrealistic, was contagious.  She felt the hope untangling knots in her chest as she laughed again.

“I should’ve left the planning to you, Chaton.  Maybe then we’d have beaten Hawkmoth already.”

“Nah, we all know you’re the brains of the operation, Bugaboo.  I’m just here to look pretty.”  He flipped his soggy hair, and his bangs hit his forehead with a fwap.  

She couldn’t help the laugh that burst from her.  “You’re such a dork.  I love you.”

He froze solid as one of Style Queen’s statues.  She half expected him to turn to gold, for his warmth to bleed out like the color currently draining from her face.

She said— 

She’d said she loved him.  

She’d said she loved him, and the words had come out as easy as breathing, as sure as the pounding of her heart.  How—why?  She didn’t love him, not like that, she couldn’t couldn’t she’d told herself that long ago—

But any denials caught in her lungs, trapped like the dark butterflies snared by her yo-yo.  Only when the words were fully purified were they released again.

“I—I love you,” she whispered.  

She hadn’t meant to say it once, much less twice—but with the repetition the truth of it snapped firmly into place.  She didn’t know when her kitty had snuck past her defenses, slipped past her blinding crush on Adrien, dodged all the logical reasons she had for not falling for him.  

But he had.

She loved Chat Noir.  Of course she did.

“You—but you—is there an akuma?”  He stammered, eyes wide and disbelieving.  She’d been turning down his off-and-on (mostly on) flirting for four years now; of course he wouldn’t assume she was serious.

“No, Kitty.”  Her laugh felt suffocating.  After all this time she’d been trying to confess to Adrien, and now, when her target was her Kitty, her mouth didn’t give her a choice.

Maybe that was for the best.  She would always have a special place in her heart for Adrien, but Chat—Chat was her home.  Her partner, her friend, her everything.  

The twisting in her stomach finally unwound, swelling into something that she could hardly contain.  His face was so close, his lips still parted from the three words she’d dropped on him.  It would be so easy to lean in and kiss the shock from his face, until he melted in her arms, until they both believed this was real.

But Chat had always respected her boundaries, and she would do the same for him.  Besides, what if he didn’t feel the same anymore, if his flirting was just habit?  And she’d just blurted out her feelings before even she realized them—what if she ruined the comfortable companionship they shared?

No.  No, she knew better than that.  Even if he didn’t feel the same, nothing could tear the two of them apart. 

“I know I’m late, but—if you still want me—”

“My Lady.”  She felt more than heard the tremor of emotion in his voice.  “I’ll always want you.  I always have.”

Was this real?  How had she gone from flirting with her partner to baring her heart to him?  The liquid moonlight washed aside her walls. His golden hair was spun silver in its glow, and her hands ran through it involuntarily.  She was lucky Chat had returned his grip to her waist, because otherwise she might have accidentally slipped off him.

As much as his words made her feel like she could fly, it was best not to test that theory.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Chaton.”  She rested her forehead against his, still shaking with the realization and love and longing and—how had she ignored this feeling?  How long had she wanted him to kiss her senseless before her mind would admit it?

It didn’t matter.  She knew now, and the electricity that sparked between them wouldn’t let her forget anytime soon.

“You know I’d wait forever for you.  I love you.”  His breath fanned across her cheeks, soft and hot and everything she hoped his lips would be.  “I love you so so much, Ladybug, I—”

He might be willing to wait forever, but she wasn’t.  Her lips consumed whatever it was he was going to say next— 

And all she knew was that he tasted like coming home.

He matched her passion with a surprising sweetness.  It wasn’t the intense kiss she was expecting, but maybe that was for the best.  He was the only thing keeping them from plummeting to the ground far below, and distracting him probably wasn’t the best idea, but frankly after that first touch of lips she was so gone they could’ve fallen and she wouldn’t have noticed— 

He yelped against her mouth.  Had she done something wrong?  She hadn’t kissed a boy since Luka two years ago, but she couldn’t be that bad— 

Oh.  She hadn’t noticed.

Gravity really wasn’t supposed to be tugging in that direction.  And the wind wasn’t supposed to be blowing up.

And Chat’s baton wasn’t supposed to be slipping through his fingers.

Gah!  She barely had time to think as his arms tightened around her middle so he was hugging her from below.  What was he thinking?  Did he expect to cushion her fall?

Jolting out of oh-my-gosh-I’m-kissing-Chat mode, she threw her yo-yo from her hip and lassoed the still-upright baton.  Only miraculous magic could be holding it steady, especially when she yanked them towards it—

And in a jumble of limbs and string, she promptly tangled them against the metal length.

She heard a sharp crack, followed by a dizzy groan. 

“Chat, oh my gosh, are you okay?” The world was still spinning; she couldn’t turn to see him. Mostly because her back was pressed flush against his chest.

“Purrfectly fine, my Lady.” His laugh sounded near her ear. “I always knew you’d sweep me off my feet.”

She rolled her eyes, unsure if she wanted to laugh or groan.  She was so stupid.  Making out with Chat with nothing but a pole holding them up?  Yes, that sounded like something from her romantic fantasies (which she wasn’t supposed to have with him, but—shh), but she should’ve known better in real life!

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” She muttered.

He hummed thoughtfully. That sound should not have made her shiver, she was just—it was just cold. Even though his body was hot against her back.

Yeah, she wasn’t kidding anyone.

“I could be purrsuaded to forget,” he said to her surprise.

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Mm-hmm.” His chin rested on her shoulder. “For the low price of fifty more kisses.”

“Fifty?” She choked, face heating. Fifty brushes of his lips on hers, of his laugh filling her lungs— “I—I don’t know. Actually, you’re the one who let go of the staff. I might’ve kissed you first, but you’re the one who should be getting teased.”

“Fair enough. A hundred kisses, then. Fifty for me to forget, and fifty for you to forgive me for dropping you.”

“Bold words from a guy who couldn’t even handle kissing me once.” She would’ve flicked his bell if her arms weren’t trapped over his around her middle.

“Ah, it just means I need more practice!”

She twisted her head just enough to stick her tongue out at him. “You won’t get any practice if you don’t get us down from here.”

“Oh. Uh. About that… I can’t reach the button.” He laughed awkwardly. “You mind untangling us?”

The magical properties of her yo-yo meant she could still retract the string even tangled as it was, but it would take a minute to lasso them back to the baton properly this time.

“Only if you don’t mind falling again.” 

“For you? Never,” he said with a quick kiss to her cheek.

She shook her head.  She refused to be distracted by him this time, even if his smell was everywhere, more dizzying than their brief fall through the clouds.

“You’re such a dork.”

“But you love me,” he practically sang.

Despite the fact that they were hanging in an awkward position hundreds of meters in the air, her nerves vanished completely.

“Yeah, Kitty. I do.”

(That truth was far more important than learning how far Chat’s baton could extend, anyway.)

[And then next week they beat hawkbutt and ship him and nathalie off to jail and everyone in the whole team comforts Adrien and he and marinette live happily ever after with a hamster]

[saikostories]

EXO - Dating be like...

Dating Byun Baekhyun would be like

• constant laughter, to the point of annoying the hell outta anyone around you two

• skinship would be a must and he’d honestly always want to be touching you

• like, even something as simple as his arm around your waist, or his hand resting on your thigh when you’re watching a movie would be enough to satisfy him

• phone calls that last for hours and before you both know it, it’s like 4am

• constant teasing about the stupidest of things

• and you’d probably get annoyed, telling him you hated him

• but then he’d pout, and you wouldn’t be able to help bursting into laughter at how cute he is

• neck kisses would be huuuuge with this kid

• playing hard to get whenever he’s in the mood

• you’d honestly just tease him so much when he tried to initiate sexy time with you

• but like, it wouldn’t take long for you to give into him

• so many selfies. Like, both your phone and his would be absolutely full of the dorkiest selfies imaginable

• having to deal with Chanyeol on a constant basis, since he’d probably rarely leave your place

• kissing him to shut him up when he starts babbling

• but like, he’s not gonna complain ‘cause that was his intention from the start

• being super blunt and honest with him, ‘cause sometimes Baek needs to hear things that he doesn’t necessarily want to hear

• competitions to see who can annoy Kyungsoo the most in the shortest amount of time

• pillow fights that start off innocently, but probably turn pretty serious very quickly

• but he’d always let you win, because he’d just love seeing that victorious smile grace your face

• honestly, this kid can be a bit of a handful at times. But be prepared to have a life full of smiles and constant laughter, pranks and competitions, and just honestly good times. He’d be the type of guy that you’d never be bored around, and he’d always put you first on his priority list.

***

Dating Park Chanyeol would be like

• him playing his guitar, strictly for your entertainment, and singing to you in that low, melodic voice that’s he’s got goin’

• being the best of friends with Baekhyun

• and being nearly inseparable from them both

• annoying Kyungsoo to the point where he snaps at you both, forcing you to sit on opposite sides of the room

• but still finding ways to exchange humorous looks and faces, resulting in even more annoying, and not-so-subdued, fits of giggles

• him always being the first to apologize if you two ever happened to get into a fight, ‘cause he wouldn’t be able to handle arguing with you

• constant laughs and smiles over the cheesiest of jokes

• you’d probably snort while laughing at a joke he told, which would just cause him to laugh even harder, which would cause you to laugh even harder, and so on

• plenty of teasing from him because you’d be so much shorter than him

• like, every time you had to go on your tippy-toes to kiss him, he’d give you the hardest time, not even bending down a little just to tease you

• and he’d probably make you tell him exactly how much you wanted his kisses before he’d crouch to your level and give you what you wanted

• or if he’s feeling lazy, he’d settle for gentle, ghost-like forehead kisses

• his long arms easily enveloped your entire body in his comfortable and warm embrace

• the cutest pet names, for the both of you

• playful tickle/pillow fights

• getting scolded in public places for being FAR too loud

• sleeping with his long limbs wrapped tightly around your body and your face nuzzled into his chest

***

Dating D.O (Do kyungsoo) would be like

• him cooking all of your meals for you. Occasionally allows you to assist him in the kitchen, but prefers to be the only one to cook for you so he can feel like he’s providing well for you

• skinship being a rarity and making him super flustered whenever it comes up, especially in the early stages of your relationship

• like, even grabbing his hand in public would turn him into a gooey mess

• him singing to you in that sweet, angelic voice of his when you’re feeling sick and/or sad

• him only ever looking at you

• like, you’d never have to worry about Kyungsoo checking out other women because you’d know that he only has eyes for you

• staying at home for date nights doing easy-going things like watching movies and just simply enjoying each other’s company

• you having to do literally ALL of the talking when you’re out in public together

• him stealing loving glances of you when he thinks you’re not looking

• but you likely catch him every time, turning his face a bright hue of pink as he blushes fiercely

• using your free time to catch up on and binge watch all sorts of missed anime seasons

• his own smile being impossible to suppress anytime he sees your beaming grin

• doing the dorkiest of things when you’re alone together

• and laughing so hard that your tummies start to hurt

• him doing literally anything and everything to ensure your beautiful smile stays planted on your face

***

Dating Chen (Kim Jongdae) would be like

teaming up to execute some of the best pranks the two of you could think of on the other unsuspecting members

• but always being forgiven by them because you’re both just too friggin’ cute

• high-note singing competitions, which are really just you two squealing random nonsense at each other

• honestly just so much teasing, both playfully and sexually

• so many hugs from behind, like it’s his favourite way to hold you because he feels it’s the best way to get your body as close as possible to his own

• him shooting super clever puns your way whenever you present him with the opportunity

• only to have you retort with the lamest puns ever created

• so much ass-grabbing, by both of you

• water gun fights in the summer that start off innocently, but quickly turn ridiculously serious, involving super-stealthy commando rolls and sneak-attacks

• creating the most kick-ass pillow forts when you’re home alone together

• and having some seriously heated make-out sessions in your little “castle of pillows”

• him always waiting until you’re least expecting it to give you kisses

• like, you’ll be totally spacing out when all of a sudden, he’ll quickly peck your cheek, but then pretend like he didn’t do a thing

• him being constantly prepped with his phone’s camera, ready to capture any embarrassing situation you may get yourself in

• you practically worshipping those God-given, sexy arms of his~♥

• him giving up his sweater when you’re cold, with absolutely no hesitation

• like, you wouldn’t even have to ask, he’d pick up on your shivers instantly and hand his hoodie over to you, even if it leaves him in nothing more than a thin t-shirt

• honestly, just him giving you all of the love his heart can possibly manage to give out. He’s the most sincere, caring guy in the world and he’d make you feel like you’re constantly on top of the world, showering you with all of his attention at any given time and always making sure you’ve got a smile on your face

***

Dating Kai (Kim Jongin) would be like

• super passionate kisses that leave you absolutely breathless

• taking his dogs for late-night strolls like, every night

• knowing that he fully trusts you when he’s willing to leave his dogs with you when he goes away

• so many late-afternoon naps with his arms wrapped loosely around your body and your head resting gently on his chest as it heaves up and down in perfect rhythm

• talking on the phone until 3am when he’s away, just because you both miss each other’s voices

• him always finding you in the crowd at concerts and locking eyes, looking only at you while he performs

• him getting super bashful whenever you ask him to dance especially for you

• heart-melting moments whenever you see how absolutely fantastic he is with children

• lazy days when you two just chill at home, playing video games or watching cute movies

• him trying to be sexy around you but, no matter how comfortable he feels with you, he always turns into a bashful mess under your stare

• him completely losing his mind whenever you tell him you love him

• like, he becomes so flustered he can’t even manage to form a reply for a good three minutes afterwards

• him gazing at you with an intense stare, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he watches your every movement

• but then freaking out and getting super flustered when you catch him, pretending like he wasn’t looking at you at all

• being able to feel entirely comfortable with him, no matter what

• like, you could let out the most unladylike burp in the world and he’d just laugh his ass off and find it friggin’ adorable

• just Kai constantly making you feel like you’re on cloud nine and giving you this fantastic feeling of comfort. Like, he’d honestly be your best friend and your boyfriend, all rolled into one

***

Dating Lay (Zhang Yixing) would be like

• blowing on and/or kissing his neck just to see that ridiculously adorable reaction of his

• and he’d try to be mad and pout at you for it, but you both know he’d never really get angry with you over such a silly thing, so you just find his feigned anger adorable

• seriously just the best cuddles in the world. Like, Yixing would just want to give you his utmost love and attention constantly, and cuddles would be his time to shine, you’re just going to feel so loved when you’re wrapped up tight in his embrace

• so many phone calls and so much facetiming whenever you’re apart because he’d always want to hear your voice, or see your face

• because even just the thought of you puts this guy’s mind at ease

• impromptu dance battles at the most random of times

• you being his official agenda, keeping track of any kind of appointments or meetings he had

• and like, you’d start to feel like you’re nagging him about it all, but he’d honestly just be so grateful that he had you to help keep everything straight, since he’s got such a hectic schedule to try to keep up with

• having to remind him constantly that he doesn’t need to work so damn hard

• like, seriously, someone needs to force this kid to take some breaks for himself

• deep, completely serious daydreams about your future together

• him always buying you small gifts that may seem silly at first sight, but really hold some deep meaning or another

• him getting all flustered any time you compliment him, just because your opinion means everything to him

• him not being super touchy in public, but in private, he’s going to be one of the clingiest babies ever

• like, you’re not going to be able to do a single thing around the house without him being by your side

• him being absolutely flattered anytime you do something for him, even things as simple as cooking a meal for him, or doing his laundry, and he’s just going to be so friggin’ grateful

• him constantly reminding you how lucky he feels to have snagged a girl like you, even when you sincerely feel like you’re the lucky one to have him

***

Dating Oh Sehun would be like

him standing behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on the top of your head

• and then always complaining when your hair goes up and/or tickles his nostrils

• but that doesn’t stop him from doing the exact same thing an hour later

• sassy comments from him that’ll honestly make you want to smack the friggin’ bajeezus outta him

• but he’ll use his best aegyo against you and you’ll completely forget whatever he had said

• having to do literally everything for him when he’s sick, ‘cause he loves the feeling of you taking absolute care of him

• him occasionally picking out your outfits for the day

• face-timing or skyping at least once a day when he’s away from home ‘cause he can’t stand not seeing your face for so long

• sleeping with at least one of his long, lanky legs draped across your lower body

• him low-key saying “I love you, Y/N” every single day

• like, he’ll say it in a voice barely above a whisper, and you’d have to ask him to repeat it, but he’d deny it all

• “Did you need something, Sehun? I thought I heard my name.”

• “What? Nobody said your name, get over yourself.”

• PDA being a rarity

• but when you’re home alone, he wouldn’t keep his hands off you

• heated, passionate kisses at the end of long days because he’s always surprised at how much he missed you

• running your fingers through his hair, only to be scolded for messing up his style

• him laying with his head on your lap, staring up and admiring you

• so many ups and downs because he can occasionally be a handful, but he’d be absolutely sure to take the time to show you how much he appreciates you and, while he can seem a little cold to some people, he’d be sure to show you his softer, gentler side

***

Dating Suho (Kim Junmyeon) would be like

• so much intense eye contact, it’ll make you blush

• him giving you the most comforting advice whenever you’re feeling down

• shopping trips where he absolutely insists on buying you anything that you happen to even glance at for too long

• giving him massages whenever he has had a stressful day

• but once the stress melts away, your massages always lead to heated sex

• helping take care of the other members, in hopes of lightening his responsibilities

• secondhand embarrassment when he acts like a complete dork in public

• tons of impromptu dates

• like, you’ll randomly say something about being bored and he’ll just grab your hand, dragging you to one of your favourite date locations

• dramatic goodbyes whenever he has to leave you for an extended period of time

• long, comforting hugs

• like, you’re never sure if he actually intends to let you go or not

• him constantly being a worrywart when it comes to you

• like, you’d get a tear in your eye from a clump of dust and he’d immediately jump to the worst conclusion, thinking something terrible must have happened

• him nonchalantly complimenting you when you’re least expecting it

• him forcing you to reenact that scene that he describe in one of the interviews about his ideal type

• like, he’ll make you read while sitting by the windowsill and he’ll walk over to you and tuck the hair behind your ear, smiling at how dorky the whole setup is

• just him being the best thing that would ever happen to you, and you being the best thing that would ever happen to him, and he’d be sure to constantly remind you that he thought that way.

***

Dating Xiumin (Kim Miseok) would be like

• constant aegyo from him, which you’d likely always fall for

• him always bugging you to play sports together

• but he’d get way too competitive and serious about it and go all-out against you

• him absolutely adoring the way your eyes shine whenever he made you smile/laugh

• him always being around with a shoulder for you to cry on if you’re feeling down

• ‘cause he’s literally the best listener. Like, ever

• constant snuggles whenever the two of you are home alone together

• literally everything that the two of you do together would start out normal, then become an intense competition

• like, you’d be on a good, ol’ walk, enjoying the scenery and then it would suddenly turn into a race, to see who could make it to certain landmarks first

• or when it came to the more heated moments, it would always turn into a competition to see who could go the longest without touching the other (which you’d probably almost always lose)

• always having to ensure your house is spotless, ‘cause Xiumin’s a huge neat-freak

• him not talking a whole lot

• but when he does, he’d always have the perfect things to say

• watching cheesy movies that would always, ALWAYS end in you two making out, not giving a second thought to the movie playing until you noticed the credits rolling at the end

• just having the most comfortable, perfect relationship

• like, you’d never have to be anything but yourself around this boy, and he’d always accept you wholeheartedly

[fire-the-headcanons]

Follow the Beacon Taiyang—Fair Grounds

[Link to Masterpost]

[Oof, Tai’s chapters are long.]

*

"Okay, that's enough," Tai said, standing up and stretching.

"Huh?" Qrow glanced up from his notes for half a moment. "...Oh. Thanks for your help."

"What? No. I'm not bailing, I'm saying we need a break." He lifted the book out of his hands and snapped it shut. "Aren't you hungry? We've been working for hours."

"Uh… yeah."

Qrow had fallen pretty far behind during his bout of "flu", but at least he was eating and talking again. Since… well, since then, they'd been careful not to leave either of the twins alone too much. Which meant spending a lot more time holed up in their room.

Not that that's a bad thing, he thought irritably as his scroll buzzed in his pocket again. What part of taking some time off made Dan think he wanted to text with him all day?

He glanced over at the girls, also bent over their desks. Raven was still unusually withdrawn—which, for her, meant that her average words-per-day had gone from fourteen to about six. And Summer…

It was like losing Sterling all over again, finding out he was murdered. At least—that's how Tai felt, and it wasn't even his dad.

That really had been the worst winter vacation ever, hadn't it.

"Let's go check out the fairgrounds," Tai said to the room at large. "They're supposed to be setting up for the Vytal Festival today."

Qrow paused, one hand still reaching for the book in his fist. "I thought Professor Mikado said that was next year."

"The Tournament happens on a bi-annual basis, but people celebrate every year." He grinned. "And it also means that our first official missions as Huntsmen-and-Huntresses-in-training are coming up too."

"Oh yeah." Qrow scratched the back of his neck. "I forgot."

"What kind of job should we pick?" Tai asked, setting the book on Qrow's shelf before opening the door and holding it for everyone else. Slowly, they got up and gathered their things. "Search and destroy? Wall patrol? ...Migration tracking?"

"Ha, ha," Summer rolled her eyes as they followed him into the hall.

"We are gonna have to pick."

"...What about a bounty mission?" Summer asked absently.

Tai stared. She'd never talked about doing that kind of work before—was she thinking about revenge? He glanced back at the twins and found a dual reflection of his own shock. When had she told them?

She glanced back at the three of them and scowled. "It's just practice—godssakes, Tai, it's our first mission. I'm not saying we should fly to Anima!"

"...I…" he scrambled for a way to tell her that no, this is a terrible idea and also I think we should talk about this, maybe with your mom, but all he managed to say was "I don't think they let first years take bounty missions."

"Oh, yeah," she muttered, pushing out of the exit. "I forgot."

The door clanged shut behind her, everyone else still stuck in place. "She told you about her dad?"

"N-no?" Qrow stammered. "Is… is she okay…?"

Summer probably wouldn't mind them knowing—and he could really use help talking her down. "We thought he died on a mission, but we found out over break that he was…" It was still so hard to say. "Murdered. I guess she's taking it harder than I thought."

"I'm sorry. That's awful."

"Come on, we'd better catch up."

Summer was only a few paces ahead, and they hurried after her. "So, should we stay in Vale or head out into the wilds?" she asked, as if nothing happened.

Raven folded her arms against the chill. "Why don't we just go with Professor Mesánychta?"

"Because you're the only one she likes."

"She likes me," Qrow protested.

Tai grabbed her hand. "Summer. Don't you think we should talk about this?"

"Aren't we?" she asked, barely glancing at him before pulling away. "I'd like to get out of the Kingdom. It'd be good experience, even if you two laugh at our outdoor skills the whole time—"

"Summer!"

She stopped, finally turning to face him directly. "What?"

"Are you planning on going after them?"

"I don't know who they are," she said evenly. "But we'll run into them when we start working for Ozpin. Fighting people is different from Grimm, that's why it's a separate career track. The earlier we start, the better prepared—"

"Is that what you want to do? After we graduate?"

"Of course. Don't you?"

Tai rubbed his arm, eyes dropping to the sidewalk. "I… I haven't thought about it, to be honest."

Summer shrugged, turning back down the path toward the fairgrounds. "Are you going to the dance with Dan?"

Oh. Forgot about that. "No." Probably why he keeps calling me.

"Want to go as a team then?" she turned, smiling as she turned to walk backwards and gauge their reactions.

"Sounds good to me." Dan might leave him alone if he was with his team the whole time.

Raven almost flinched as the attention turned to her. "I can't meet the dress code."

"Well, you've been eyeing my sewing machine since I brought it back from break," Summer said. "Let's alter something from Ramparts and I'll teach you how to use it!"

"O-okay."

"Maybe we should go now, then," Tai said, checking the time. "You'll probably want tomorrow to work on it. The dance is Friday and who knows how much homework we'll have this week."

"Who's 'we'? Summer demanded, taking Raven's arm. "Dress shopping is strictly Girl Time."

Tai leaned toward Qrow and fake-whispered behind his hand, "Except when it isn't."

"Huh?"

"Anyway, you two have fun. We're going to see if any of the food stalls are open yet," he continued aloud, carefully putting his arm around Qrow.

"But—"

"My treat. I want to eat outside."

"Great! See you at dinner!" Summer shouted, pulling Raven toward the docks. Tai didn't want to risk jostling Qrow's bad shoulder wrong so he let him go before continuing on toward the fairgrounds.

"...Think I can get away with just wearing the uniform?" Qrow muttered.

"Well I'm not renting a tux. We'll make some bow ties out of scrap fabric and change it up, how about that?"

"You mean I'll make some bow ties," he teased, quietly. "You can't sew."

"If the three of you are going to keep making fun of me, I'll have to learn." They rounded the forge, and the rows of tents finally came into view. Three or four were fully set up and a couple dozen were nearly finished—Tai hadn't expected it to go so fast.

"They're still not done?" Qrow asked.

...But not fast enough, apparently. "Okay, well, not all of us are intrepid hunters-slash-wilderness explorers," Tai joked, "and only put up tents once or twice a year at most." That got a laugh out of him. "Camping is just too in-tents for us city-dwellers." That got him a laugh and a light punch on the arm. "Hey, I thought you liked my puns."

"Yeah, but Summer's not here so I thought I'd fill in."

They walked around the outer edge, trying to stay out of the crew's way as they looked around. Most were food stands from restaurants in Vale, popped up to serve the tourists from outlying settlements that always flocked to Beacon this time of year.

Qrow shuffled oddly on his feet for a step, pulling Tai's attention from the activity around one of the largest stalls back to his teammate. He walked normally for a few more steps, and then limped again. A few more paces and Tai realized he was stepping on the tent stakes as they walked past them, trying to push them deeper into the ground before moving on.

"Oh come on, we're not that bad with tents," he said the next time Qrow's pace faltered.

He froze. "Uh—"

CRASH.

They both jumped about a foot—the largest tent, that most people were working on, had collapsed on a truck full of lights. Even several paces away, and buried under torn fabric and snapped poles, he could see a whole lot of scratched paint and broken glass.

"Ouch. I stand corrected."

Qrow stepped back, horrified gaze fixed on the accident. Hands shaking.

"H-hey, man, what's wrong?" Tai asked, and his eyes snapped toward him, stretched wide in fear. So this is why panic is the first thing we learn about in first aid, he thought in a detached way as he slowly stepped forward to put his arm around Qrow, holding his elbow instead of his shoulder. "It's okay. Take deep breaths with me." It only took about a minute for the shaking to stop. "…You want to get out of here?"

He nodded.

"Sounds good." Tai started back toward the castle, guiding Qrow along with him. "We can just grab some to-go boxes from the cafeteria. I don't think any of the food stalls are even open." Ugh, that was just typical of his luck lately. It had upset Qrow and it would have been pointless to boot. "Do you want to talk about it?"

To his surprise, Qrow slowed to a stop.

"…Qrow?"

"They…" he swallowed, eyes fixed on the grass, choosing each word. "They hurt me when I messed up the tents."

Tai's stomach churned. Gods, what was he supposed to say to that? What could possibly make that any better? "I'm sorry." The words tasted flat. "They were shitheads. You deserved better." He shook his head. "Man, they can't be bothered to deal with their own tents and then they hurt you for making a mistake? People are worse than Grimm."

Qrow blinked. "I never thought of that."

"Oh. It's, uh, something our parents said a lot."

"They…" Qrow didn't seem to hear him. "If they'd taken six fucking seconds to check their own damn stakes they would have been fine."

Had he helped? Gods, he hoped that helped. "Can… can I ask you something?"

"…What?"

"Why didn't you leave? Sooner, I mean."

He fumbled with his thoughts for a moment. When he spoke he couldn't meet Tai's eye. "I was scared."

"Of being on your own?"

His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he picked through his words like walking through a field of Creep burrows, and the answer was barely above a whisper. "They kill people who run away."

Tai's whole body seized with a chill like he'd been dropped in ice water. Instinctively, he grabbed at Qrow's hand. "Are—are they looking for you?"

"N-no. We—" he swallowed again, and Tai squeezed his hand. "We convinced them to send us here. So we could protect them."

Who in their right minds would send someone they'd treated so badly to a Huntsman Academy? Then again, Dan had proved that Qrow didn't have a malicious bone in his body. "Don't go back."

Qrow shook his head. "Never." The word rang with lethal certainty.

"…What happens when they realize?"

"If I can earn Valian citizenship, I won't have to go back to Anima, at least. …I didn't really think I'd make it this far," his voice petered out and Tai's stomach twisted. From what Summer said, he almost hadn't. "P-please don't tell Raven I said any of this. It's supposed to be secret."

"I won't," Tai promised with a pang of guilt. So far he had a great track record with Qrow's secrets. "…What about Summer?"

After a moment, he nodded. "As long as Raven doesn't find out."

Should he push his luck? "…What's been going on between you and her?"

This time, Qrow really did whisper, and he almost missed it. "She wants to go home."

"What?" Tai breathed. "Why? After what they did to you?"

"She—" he picked through the words again, selecting them one by one, "—they didn't hate her. She felt safer there."

"But why?" Tai cried. "What did we do wrong? How—how could she be more afraid of us?"

"It…" He had to think. "…It was easier to tell what people wanted."

"We want to be your friends. Qrow. You—you know we would never hurt you."

After a moment, he nodded. "You're…you're nothing like them." The next words had to fight their way out if his mouth. "W-we—I—"

"It's okay. It's okay." He pulled him into a loose hug, throat tightening at the way he shivered. As much as Tai was desperate to know more, he'd probably pushed Qrow far enough for one day. "Come on, we should get something to eat."

He nodded gratefully. "Y-yeah."

[Oh look more accidental Taiqrow. And next week's chapter with the girls ended up about 80% more Rosebird than intended]

Next Chapter: Raven—Strictly Girl Time