#which have mostly been my mom's birds

[keroa]

What is your favorite kind of pet to own?

I wish I could add more answers, but you know I'll be reading all the tags 👀

Feel free to gush about your critters in the tags and replies :3 🧡❤️🩷

[considerad]

sigh

[hannahhook7744]

Why Franklin and Maryann Portman are the Worst™ (Part 1)!;

I want to preface this by saying that I know that by no means Franklin and Maryann Portman are the actual worst parents in fiction or in this series even. 

Of course they aren't. 

But that doesn't mean that I can't still refer to them as the worst™ for them being shitty. Even if I do believe that on some leave that they do care about/love their son. 

I also wanna point out that it's been awhile since I read the books so I'm going off my memory and the wiki for this. So I may forget some context of why this or that happens, and if I do that, feel free to comment it down below respectfully. And if I forget something that you find shitty that they did, also feel free to reblog or comment it down below because I would love to talk about these characters and fandom more.

Am I saying that Abe Portman is 100% perfect and did nothing wrong whatsoever? No, that would go against how his character is betrayed in the books—as a flawed traumatized man who did his best to be there for his family and keep them and himself (as well as others) safe and went about some things the wrong way. 

 Now that that's out of the way…

According to the wiki:

“Jacob was born on Halloween, and up until he was eight years old was convinced by his parents that trick-or-treating candy was birthday presents (something apparently revealed in Hollow City).” 

These people are rich. 

R-I-C-H. 

Rich enough that Jacob’s dad can study birds and volunteer and write mine books that he never publishes without the worry of them not having anything to eat. 

R-I-C-H enough that Jacob comments that “I did love her, of course, but mostly because loving your mom is mandatory, not because she was someone I think I'd like very much if I met her walking down the street. Which she wouldn't be, anyway; walking is for poor people.” And rich enough that they gave their kid their four year old sundan so that they could get a brand new car. 

And for eight years, they had their son believing that candy was a birthday present. 

1. Now, look. I get it. Birthday shopping is hard, especially for a little itty bitty kid but not actually having the money to buy your only kid gifts and choosing not to because people are handing out candy on that day anyway? That's not a very nice thing to do for that long. 

They let him go through three years of school thinking that and we never learned how he found out that was a lie. That's not even including the fact that the rest of their extended family let this lie continue (assuming they knew). 

Can you imagine if Jacob found out because he mentioned this to his classmates or a teacher? Maybe a teacher or family member could salvage the situation but little kids can be brutal, especially towards other little kids who they think are wrong and considering we know that in that same year, Jacob was pants-ed causing him to stop believing anything Abe said…. It's not entirely out of the realm of possibility tl believe that one of Jacob's classmates got in a fight with him over it and caused some kind of embarrassing, painful memory. 

Though I guess it's a good thing they didn't get Jacob birthday presents that early on considering my second point. 

2. The birthday scene. 

Look at his birthday scene. 

This scene? Shouldn't really exist. 

Not because I hate birthday scenes but because Jacob literally told his parents he didn't want a party which under normal circumstances is a reasonable ask within itself. But these? These aren't even normal circumstances. 

Jacob doesn't want a party because the one person he'd actually want there, in his own words, is his grandpa. His grandpa who died in his arms nine months before and who Jacob has been viciously mourning for said nine months. His grandpa whose death caused Jacob's ‘mental breakdown’. 

Whose house they had also cleaned out recently, doing shit all for the now sixteen year old’s mental health and grief. 

But what do his parents do? 

Throw him a surprise party.

A surprise party.

For their jumpy traumatized son who found his grandpa bleeding out in the dark after getting attacked by a monster (or ‘rabid dogs’) and who has been sleeping in the fucking laundry room. 

Why on earth would going against his wishes be good for him? He said he didn't want a party and under these circumstances, it's even more understandable. If you really want your son to socialize or to celebrate, then get him a cake or some food he likes and invite his friend over. Talk to him. 

Don't throw him a party he doesn't want and don't throw the kid who's been having non-stop nightmares about the monsters who killed his grandfather a fucking surprise party. 

To make matters, in this party:

One of his uncles he’s not close to tries to spring a summer trip to his house on him, listing shit that he likely knows Jacob doesn't like with no previous warning to the kid himself (his parents were just planning to ship him off, whether he wanted it or not). 

They're calling Jacob's apparent disorder ‘his thing’. 

And nobody is actually getting him anything he wants. Just shit they've been gifted and are trying to get rid of. 

Gifts like CD's of country Christmas music or subscriptions to Field and Stream (because his Uncle Les thinks he's outdoorsy, this one I can understand slightly since Jacob did want to be an adventurer but still). 

The only exceptions being:

 1. The key to the family four-year-old sedan, which Jacob is embarrassed to be receiving in front of Ricky (who Jacob hasn't talked to in a long while after a fight they had). 

And 

2. A camera Jacob had been wanting for ages (since last summer) from his parents….who likely only gifted it to him because of his dad's new book.

Which leads to his mom drunkeningly making front of her husband at her sixteen year old’s birthday party…. Real classy. 

Oh and 3. A book that belonged to Abe that Jacob's parental Aunt Susie snagged trom the house when they were cleaning it out. A book titled “The Selected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson”. 

She gave this to him, saying it was from Abe because he'd written Jacob's name in it. 

Thoughtful right? 

Well everyone else doesn't think so because they go quiet. Jacob's mom, Maryann even while drunk, tries to say it was thoughtful and that she didn't know Abe was a reader.

Meanwhile Jacob's dad, Franklin, is barely hiding how pissed he is. 

Like dude. 

Dude. 

Do you really hate your own dad so much that you don't want your grieving son to have even just a book of poems that the only member of the family who he was close to left for him? Are you still, even after that disastrous day where you cleaned out the fucking house with him there and fought with him, refusing to let him have any ties left?

To be fair, you can say that this is because of his own history with Abe and that it's because Jacob is in a worrying state. But that doesn't really hold up considering that they let Abe babysit Jacob often and fill his head up with stories they thought he embellished  due to his own trauma and because they thought that Jacob was well enough to handle trashing and donating all of his dead grandpa’s stuff. 

Sure, they don't take the book from him but the fact Franklin can't even hide how pissed he is is shitty. 

That's not even considering this little tidbit here:

“My mother leaned toward me and in a tense whisper asked if I needed a drink of water, which was mom-speak for keep it together, people are staring.”

….

Do I even need to say anything?

The fact that Jacob thinks this probably means that his parents—or even just Maryann—have said this to him before. Frequently so, even. To the point where he's trying to escape the room, feeling like he might cry, and instead of thinking that his parents (or anyone in this family) might be able to potentially comfort him in this hard moment, this is what he's thinking. 

It's infuriating.

But not as infuriating as my last point for now!

3. Franklin sent his then fifteen year old son to deal with what he thought was his dementia ridden, war world 2 veteran father having a PTSD attack/episode. 

Franklin gets called when he's volunteering at a bird rescue in what is either early afternoon or night by his worried fifteen year old said who tells him that Abe called him ‘flipping out’. 

He asks if he's taken his pills today and Jacob tells him Abe wouldn't tell him. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would go and help their poor ailing father who may be having an episode or PTSD attack about the war, what happened to his family. The monsters. 

At this point, any reasonable adult would send their son home out of danger and call up a friend or sibling or in-law to go deal with the situation. 

What does Franklin do?

He sends his fifteen year old, who is at his job, to go check on Abe. Who again, Franklin thinks is having an episode. 

Now, even if there was a chance that Abe would still recognize Jacob and wouldn't be a danger to him, who would risk sending their son to check on an ailing relative by himself when there's every chance that when Jacob gets there he'll be having flashbacks to the horrors he witnessed. I mean, it's understandable if you or another adult is there and need help calming the man for you to maybe have your teenage son there. Especially if he may be caring for him one day out of choice.

But sending your fifteen year old there by himself to handle the situation when he probably won't know what to do and when he probably hasn't seen one before?

And doing that when you know that your dad was in a war and still has a sea of weapons hidden away behind lock and key (a key which you have) because you can't be half assed to tell the shelter your volunteering at that there's a family emergency?

Franklin literally sent Jacob into a traumatizing situation that could turn dangerous (for Abe or Jacob, if Abe didn't recognize his grandson) under the assumption that all of his paranoid dad's weapons are stored away. 

And what did Abe die with in his hand?

A box cutter. 

Which just proves that Abe had things lying around that he could use as a weapon if needed. Things he could improvise with. 

Just think for a moment about what could have wrong if Abe wasn't actually in danger from a wight but something he was actually imagining—a memory from his past. Imagine what could have happened to Jacob if Abe had mistaken him for a burglar or a wight or what Franklin thought he was imagining.

Jacob can't fight. 

It's dark. 

Things could easily go wrong.

And what would happen if they did?

Jacob would be hurt and traumatized or dead and Abe would likely be in a horrible place if he wasn't, all because Franklin didn't care enough about his dad to go check on him himself. Hell you can he didn't even care about Jacob enough here, because he didn't care about what Jacob could possibly see if he sent him to deal with his grandfather.

Like, not only is he being incredibly shitty to his son but to his own ailing father who was at the very least convinced he was in danger and who was actually in danger (for all Franklin knew his dad could have actually heard someone breaking in but he didn't even take the time to think about it). 

That's all I have time to write for today but there's several other things that they do that are pretty crappy where their son is involved that I will happily discuss.

Hope this doesn't disappoint, @kallmeweirdhprroe .

[leaawrites]

Midnight hour with you

Percy Jackson x daughter of Nyx!reader

Request: Idk if ur request are open if not ignore! But could u possibly do tv! Percy x nyx! Reader? Like reader is really troubled and has a like a really REALLY bad day and percy sorta sits with her and ig you can make the rest! By @privbooks922

Warnings: crying, reader having a bad day, use of Y/n, female reader,

Wordcount: 0,7k

I hope this is kinda what you imagined!

Masterlist

Ever since she saw Percy Jackson walk into camp, she wanted to protect him. She didn’t know where the desire came from, neither what she must do to make it go away. Being a daughter of Nyx, most kids feared her. They were scared of what she might be able to do, without a sense of knowing what she was actually capable of. Nobody ever asked, so nobody ever understood.

Especially with new people around, she ignored them, hoping they would get bored of the rumors that made the Nyx children so intriguing. But he didn’t stop. He never stopped watching her. In his mind, there was nothing more charming than the kindness that laid behind her silver eyes. A small touch from the midnight sky soothed her skin in the sunlight, making her visible and yet desirable to him. Her iris looked like the moon, so haunting and beautiful, but impossible to catch.

The night air caught up with the lack of warm clothing on her body. It was a cold night, goosebumps appeared on her arms, making her hairs stand up. As it proves, a simple camp half blood shirt wasn’t the best choice now. The forest around her was alive, leaves were singing together with the wind, a certain amount of animal noises was heard, some birds she supposed. Y/n made her way through the night, walking like a shadow through the dark, watching little shadows dance beside her.

Beneath her feet the moon was reflecting on the shallow, quiet surface of water in a lake. All around her there was nothing but quietness. It was soothing to her soul.

The day had been crazy. All she wanted to do was sit and stare at the water, letting her tears flow down to where it belongs to, letting the molecules be connected. There were too many people for her to handle, and not enough that were willing to listen to her. Who would listen to a silly little Nyx child?

A branch snapped behind her. Y/n sat straighter, her ears flying over her surrounding, trying to make sense of the noise. Suddenly, a lean figure stood between the trees, their body was facing her, not moving.

“Sorry about that,” Percy Jackson said, leaving his hiding place with a grimace covering his face. He was embarrassed that he got caught. The grimace vanished, being replaced by worry for his favorite Nyx daughter. Tears were flowing down her soft face, washing away her sweet smile and joyous eyes. Still, she looked beautiful to him. “What happened?” Percy walked farther to her side, unsure if he should sit or not.

“It’s nothing,” she tried to make him go away with her words, but he didn’t budge, instead he sat down next do her, feet dangling from the wood, his posture was awkward. Thoughts were filling up his nerves.

“It’s never nothing,” he replied, shrugging when she looked at him surprised. “That’s what my mom tells me at least.”

“She sounds like a good woman,” Y/n said, not thinking before talking. She hadn’t heard a lot about his mom, but he fought for her, which made her important to him.

“She is.” Percy smiled at the thought of his mom. Her own face was decorated by a small smile, filling up the sadness with joy. She envied him mostly, hearing how he at least had one parent that seemed to properly care about him. “I like your smile,” he commented, watching it disappear again. “Now it’s gone.”

“You like it?” She asked unsure. It was always something she felt insecure about, having someone compliment it, without being forced to do it by one of her Aphrodite friends, was nice. It was a change for once.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, smiling at her, his golden locks shimmering in the moonlight. “You’re beautiful.”

Y/n’s face filled itself with a warm redness, covering her cheeks and letting her eyes look filled with even less color. They seemed boring to her, in comparison to his blue ones, but he couldn’t stop looking at them. They were different. She was different to him than anyone else. A riddle he would like to solve.

PS.: if you have any request, I really appreciate them, but I can’t promise how long it will take me to finish the story. Since I work on quite a few requests at the moment and also have school work and ballet that I need to have time for.

[some-triangles]

I've been on tumblr since 2011, and this is technically a sideblog. My creative focus shifted over here, to - I guess what could loosely be referred to as fandom space? It was Homestuck's fault - many years ago, and I more or less consciously decided to shift the original blog's purpose from writing little bits of poetry about weird birds to finding bird videos on other platforms that I thought could go viral and reposting (stealing) them. (Always credited, of course. I'm not a monster.) This worked pretty well, and now I have 6000+ followers over there. Since I never use it to promote anything or for any purpose beyond birdposting I feel OK about this as an experiment. I mostly use it to people-watch.

The latest video I have gaining traction over there is one my friend Rat sent me (one of many friends who either found me through birds or Homestuck and each is equally plausible) in which a pelican at a petting zoo is forced to cough up the gosling it was attempting to swallow by a handler who has clearly had to deal with this many times before. She then frogmarches (birdmarches?) it away by its beak. Good stuff, and very on brand, as I've been warning people about the horrors of pelican vore for ages. (I even got my very own pervert for a while, an anon who kept badgering various bird blogs to write about what it might be like to be swallowed.) When something I post starts doing numbers I like to watch the notes and tags, because it fascinates me how people like to make the same jokes, over and over and over. Not even their own jokes. I have never fully understood this but it's undeniably foundational to the way the internet works. Like, I get dropping References in conversation - social glue and all that, fun and funny - but in a public forum? Where you could literally check and see how many people have said the same thing before you got to it? Baffling. Universal.

Anyway. We started slow with this one, and we had some discerning folks doing Democracy Manifest bits - succulent avian meal, and all that. As references go it's a pretty good one, as it has its own wikipedia page and everything, and it's timely with Jack Karlson's recent passing. There were a few I am Forcibly Escorted From tags, which is nice, since you don't hear that one much these days. A bunch of quotidian "she's so done" or "like a toddler being dragged by his ear" observations, mostly uninspiring, although the specificity of one person's "my mom dragging me into the church bathroom to whoop my ass" was worth sharing. A little bit of the classic concern trolling you get with any animal video - why indeed is this bird being kept in the same place as all these edible little guys? But, inevitably, because it is the perfect time to use it, most people went with "put baby in pelican mouth."

And the thing about this is that I know the person who wrote the original "put baby in pelican mouth" post. We met through tumblr. She was absolutely inspired by my pelican posting to write that piece, and I know that because we ended up dating. It ended badly, and I still have regrets about it, and now, every time I make a pelican post, I am treated to a choir of strangers - literally hundreds of them - repeating a joke which was written by my ex-girlfriend. It's straight from the ironic punishment division, really. But birdpost I must, and tagwatch I must.

Anyway, Nikki, if you're out there, hope you're doing well.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 28, wc: 804] - sleepover : 10 hour flight

“HEY GUYS,” you wave, holding your bag full of your necessities and clothes for the night. that’s right, you’re staying over at your girlfriend’s place! which is also your cousin’s place. which is also minji, danielle, and haerin’s place. which also may or may not be the newjeans dorm. because your girlfriend is hanni from newjeans. 

wow, you still can’t believe that you’re dating hanni from newjeans, and you didn’t even meet as a fan—you met on some random day at the airport, strangers-to-lovers-trope type of shit. 

minji and hyein are the ones who answer the door for you, and minji immediately sighs, “you better not pull anything tonight.”

“you bet, MJ,” you click your tongue playfully and shoot a finger-gun at her, “no shady business that was planned.”

hyein gives you a hug, and- “oh my god, you got taller again!”

the younger girl is about to make a height comparison with her hands until you spot danielle who pushes her out of the way to give you a hug. “y/n! i haven’t seen you in forever, you’re so busy with school!”

a slight headache invades your mind for a split second when she mentions ‘school’. “i’ve got deadlines, a painting to finish, and a thesis to write, dani. don’t remind me…”

the australian shoots you a pitying look, before making way for hanni, who strikes a pose before strutting over to you. “hello, guest.”

oh, another thing you learned is that hanni can be pretty unintentionally funny at times. like how she’s greeting you like some sci-fi bigshot. “hello, your highness,” you bow, hovering your hand over your chest. 

she brings you in for a short peck on the lips, causing haerin (who just walked into the living room) to cover hyein’s eyes, and for minji to cover haerin’s eyes. danielle smiles and walks to the kitchen. “i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, han,” you smile fondly at her before she leads you into the apartment. everyone gathers in her room where you also put your bag of things in. 

it’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve been to the dorm, but it hasn’t been that long since you’ve seen the girls—danielle was exaggerating. you just stopped by their practice room two days ago to drop off some food that hyein’s mom made for them. not that your absence has changed anything, the dorm is pretty much the same save for a big banner featuring their ‘right now’ characters. 

in hanni’s room, she’s moved around some stuff, like the record player that’s playing a mac demarco vinyl right now. there’s also a whole section dedicated to organizing the various supplies that you’ve forgotten while you were over the few dozens (maybe even hundreds) of times over two years. you’re pretty sure there’s even stuff you left in hyein’s room, whoops.

you climb up on her loft bed (which she’s been saying she’s gonna replace, but she hasn’t yet) and hang your legs over the edge. minji sends you a warning look from her place on the floor. hanni looks concerned, but joins you criss-cross on the bed, holding her ‘fluffy’ plush (yes, the one from despicable me) to her chest.

a few conversations start, like danielle bringing up sylvanian families and getting haerin very invested in the discussion, which led to the topic shifting to cats, and then your sketch of a cat you saw on the way here, and somehow sparking your flame of inspiration.

you slowly lean forward, trying to get a view of the girls that are sitting on the floor (or bean bag, in haerin’s case) because just a little more and you’ll have a perfect bird’s eye view.

hanni notices your movements and widens her eyes, “y/n, you’re gonna fall!”

“it’s not that high,” you try to reassure her, still inching off of the bed, danielle, hyein, and minji scoot away just in case you actually fall, which you probably will, based on their previous experiences with you. come on, you mostly stopped doing those stunts a long time ago, because you knew hanni would worry! it’s not like you’re gonna—

“y/n!”

…you fell. that kind of hurt. “uh, don’t worry guys. it’s just a sprain.”

haerin winces as she looks at your present state. “your arm is bent the other way.”

it is? you look at your arm and, oh. “i guess it is—oh shit.”

…

“i can’t believe i’m in the er with you. again,” hanni sighs heavily, poking at the cast wrapped around your arm.

you blow a strand of your bangs out of your face. “at least i didn’t break two of my ribs again. hey, wanna reenact our first kiss?”

your girlfriend stares blankly at you. you raise your unbroken arm in defense. “no? okay…”

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i miss u 10 hour flight

[aloysiavirgata]

Unremarkable house, Brother Bill, rooster

Mulder is in the big hammock out back, sprawled like a Roman Emperor. The chickens are out, pecking for bugs among the goat droppings. He has a lemon shandy in a frosty glass. He has a tomato sandwich with tomatoes from their garden and homemade bread. He has Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell next to him.

He has misgivings.

Scully enters his field of view, stage left, “Mulder, you’d better put those damn chickens away before he gets here, especially Francisco. That rooster is a complete menace.”

She glares at the enormous bird. They’ve had a few scuffles, she and Francisco. There have been Band-Aids and three stitches.

He slurps at his drink. “You don’t think your brother wants to see my big cock?”

She is silent for a long moment. Then, “I swear to God I will literally kill you, Mulder. I will shoot you and I will bury you out here and I will put a big gazebo over your grave and every time I sit in it I will think about how much you had it coming.”

She stalks back to the house.

“Jesus,” Mulder says to the chickens. “Someone is in a mood.”

***

It’s an awkward greeting, but not as awkward as he’d imagined. He and Bill have always hated each other, which makes it easy to pick up where they’d left off, like two enemy pirate captains running into one another at a bar in Tortuga.

Bill, per usual, looks like he was waiting for the Dulcolax to kick in. Douchebag plaid shorts that Rob Petrie wouldn’t have touched with a ten foot golf club.

He sweeps his sister up in a massive hug and she got rather teary and Bill, to his credit, looks a bit pink around the eyes and nose as well. He puts his sister down after a moment, smoothing her hair.

Bill and Mulder then acknowledge one another’s undeniable existence on the material plane. Shake hands like sulky but well-mannered children after a baseball game.

***

Now they’re on the deck while Mulder tends the grill, three gorgeous steaks from a neighbor’s cow before him.

“It’s beautiful out here, Dana,” Bill says.

“Mostly Mulder’s doing,” Scully replies, sipping at the wine her brother had brought. “He’s honestly a wizard with this property.” She glances at him when she says it and he smiles back.

“Really?” Bill says. “Well, color me impressed. Mulder, I had no idea you were such an adept little homemaker.”

Mulder moves the steaks to a serving platter. “Oh, sure. Dana just uses me for cooking, yardwork, and sex.”

Bill chokes on his beer and Scully closes her eyes for a beat the way Anne Boleyn must have when they led her from the Tower.

Mulder sets the platter on the table, uncovers the potato salad and the asparagus. Sourdough rolls and goat-milk butter.

“Now Bill,” he says, “you tell me if that steak is too rare and I’ll pop it right in the microwave for you. Let me know if you need anything else, some A-1 or ketchup or anything at all. I want you to feel at home.”

Absolute daggers in Scully’s eyes.

Bill coughs lightly. “Everything looks fantastic, thank you both.”

“It was good of you to make the drive, Bill,” Scully says, loading up plates with food. “I know it’s a bit of a haul.”

Bill smiles indulgently. “Couldn’t be this close to my kid sister after so long and not swing by!”

“Though we would have understood,” Mulder says, warmly. He butters a roll and passes it to his brother in law. “Never feel obligated.”

Bill narrows his eyes as he accepts the bread. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to need some new pictures of the kids,” Scully says brightly. “Matthew must have grown six inches since that school photo you sent, Bill! And Mom says Claire has lost two teeth.”

“I’ll tell Tara to send some,” Bill says, puffing up.

They eat in silence for a time. Knives cutting through the tender steaks and stabbing into waxy potatoes and young asparagus. Butter dripping down chins.

“It’s a shame William isn’t growing up here,” Bill says, wiping his plate with another roll. “Dana, how could-“

Her fork clatters to her plate and he shuts up.

A roaring silence like an event horizon.

“Bill,” Scully says, sweetly. “We have the most beautiful rooster to show you.”

[faeriekit]

Frozen Out

Another phic phight fill, another day; this one's for @akela-nakamura. No one is allowed to say anything about my need for Far Frozen fics.

(Sister fics are Snow Day and Snowdrift Sanctuary)

Breakfast comes, and breakfast goes. Frostbite cooked last night, so it’s leftover soup. 

There’s some kind of bird meat in it that Danny’s vaguely aware of, and a root vegetable that’s basically a hardy onion. The grain in it is a wild rice that’s virtually identical to the one in the human world, supposedly; Danny never had wild rice while he was eating at his parents’ house, though, so it’s new to him. 

It’s interesting how it cracks and breaks apart on his tongue. The food’s different here, but the Far Frozen has food that mostly matches human cuisine in far climates. Sure, it’s made of ghost birds and ghost vegetables and ghost grains, but they’re at least recognizable as sea birds, vegetation, and grain. It’s not weird for him to eat food that looked like food. 

If Danny had moved in with Princess Dorathea the way she’d offered, he’d be eating ghosts that looked like people. 

Yeah. This is better. 

Danny likes his soup. It’s reheated on the stovetop so that it’s warm. 

His bowl goes beside the door— he’ll scrape the dishes in the snow later— and goes for his coat and boots. There’s gloves that Neuschnee, Tundra’s mom,  knitted for him, on tiny needles that would have been hard for him to manipulate even without her huge clawed hands. 

They’re very warm. They have little green and blue stripes and little blue snowflakes spun on yeti-fur yarn. He likes them a lot. 

Danny leaves the warm interior of the cave, takes a big breath, and wanders out towards the center of the settlement. 

There are lots of occupied caves in the Far Frozen. Some of them are constructed in ice, but many are formed from natural rock— or whatever passes as ‘natural’ in the Infinite Realms. Early history of yeti society is rocky; there’s apparently debate as to whether the yetis found the land while wandering the zone, whether the land spawned the people to occupy it as a deterrent against wanderers and interlopers, or whether they all came into being together. 

“Aren’t you immortal? Or, you know…long-lived? Long-dead?” Danny had asked, confused. “Weren’t you here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Frostbite had agreed easily. 

“So…shouldn’t you remember?” 

“There are theories about that as well,” Frostbite had pointed out, amused with Danny’s frustration. “As it is, we do not.” 

So. There’s that. 

That being said, Danny knows there’s a lot of history; Arctic can recite cycles of songs for five hundred seasons back, and he’s not over a hundred years old. 

Probably. 

Danny stops beside a snow drift and scratches his head through his thick hood. Is Arctic a hundred years old? 

…Anyway, Danny continues, trucking onwards, if he is, he has to adjust his worldview on teenage yetis. If he’s not, then that means that Danny’s right about part two of his plan, which includes the vague idea that a society of yetis with an advanced medical techniques and application probably has a library somewhere. 

Or. You know. So he hopes. Man, if they pass down the entirety of their medical knowledge through oral tradition, Danny’s going to be screwed. Either way, he’s just in time to wander into Pritla’s glacial alcove before they’re finished with their own breakfast— a fish, apparently, devoured by sharp teeth and a huge maw. 

“Morning,” Danny greets, because he’s polite that way. He knows Pritla knows he’s here. Everyone so far has made fun of how loudly he walks. 

“Good morning, Phantom,” Pritla greets back, blue tongue licking bits of fish out from between huge fangs. Danny’s human right now, but for some reason, using his human name is culturally weird to them. It must be less intuitive, or something. It’s not like they can’t recognize him either way. “Is there something you’re missing?”

“No, thank you.” Last time he was here, it was because Jazz had sent over his workbooks and worksheets with pencils and no sharpener. Once the tips had snapped, it had all been over. “Is there a library?” 

Pritla’s furry eyebrows rise up over their brow ridge. “Did you expect there not to be one?” 

Danny’s nose squishes. “No. I assumed there is one. I just don’t know where it would be.”

The yeti’s eyes roll up to the ceiling; honestly, Danny knows that they do hard work for Frostbite, but they’re kind of annoying. “Have you tried downstairs?” 

“...Downwhat,” says Danny. 

So. It turns out. Far Frozen goes down. 

Like, there’s a hole in the ice, and it goes down— down long steps carved straight out of the ice, into blue-glowing tunnels woven with streams of rock and salt. 

“...Huh,” Danny observes. “Down.”

“Indeed,” Prita rumbles. The yeti turns, their bulk and form imposing as they head back up the stairs. “Everything is etched into the walls; feel free to make any copies of the writings you find. The farther down you go, the newer the writing becomes.”

“Thank you!” Danny hollers back, finally feeling some sense of burgeoning accomplishment. He’s almost there; all he has to do is take something impressive down, and get it copied onto something portable. He has old blank scrap paper stuck into his pockets. This should be easy. He feels very confident in reading into the yetis’ written cultural knowledge…

…And then notices that it’s written in an entirely different syllabary. 

Right. Danny wants to bang his head on the ice wall. Universally spoken ghost language, entirely different societal interpretation. Shoot. 

Interpreting this will take him ages. 

Still, Danny settles in; there’s no rush. He wasn’t supposed to have lessons today, since Tundra caught a wheeze and now he’s being all whiny about it, so he has all the time until dinner to copy and to get some graphite rubbings off the wall. 

Danny pulls up one of the carved stools, sits his butt down, and writes. 

*

“Frostbite?” 

Frostbite looks down. Danny smashes his face into the yeti’s fur; it’s hardly even a blow to his guardian, and it’s apparently instinctual for cubs to do something similar anyway. So. It’s a very affectionate gesture, even if it feels like playing rough to Danny. 

And Danny gets petted by a giant yeti hand. There are many advantages to living in the Far Frozen. 

Frostbite rumbles something, but Danny can’t actually hear him through the fur. He pokes his head out to get a listen. 

“—Good day?” 

“Mmhmm.” It had been productive, anyway. “I saw the library.” 

“The hall of records?” Frostbites ask, his voice a gentle rumble. Danny leans into the sound. “Ambitious of you. Did you learn anything new?”

Danny had. So he talks about the loss of the rainy seasons for snowy ones and The Year That It Rained Upwards, and about drifting too far against the edge of the Infinite Realms until they smashed into another kingdom and were forced to fight. He talks about the process of washing starlight moss until it becomes food instead of vegetation, and he talks about what it says about birthing traditions, and what it means to be Never-borne in a people that had probably never once lived in the human world.

Or maybe they had? There were some theories downstairs that speculated that they were the ghosts of real Yetis. Danny hadn’t known what to think. He’d taken the notes down anyway, because…well…what if they are? What if they’re all that’s left of the human world’s yeti population: ectoplasmic imprints and non-living beings??  

Frostbite knows everything Danny tells him about. Obviously. He was there for almost everything, too. But he lets Danny ramble on in a way that his parents never had, letting Danny explain his own history to him with new eyes and new words. It’s cathartic. Danny clings to Frostbite’s fur as the yeti walks around their living space, skinning and deboning Sky Whale meat to add to tonight’s meal. An adolescent human really weighs nothing to him. It’s so funny. 

“I am glad to know that you are able to take advantage of the histories,” Frostbite rumbles. Danny preens. “What encouraged you to seek them out?” 

Danny goes quiet. 

Frostbite looks over his shoulder to look at Danny, but lets Danny resolve his silence on his own terms. 

“...I wanted to see. If.” Danny licks his lips. Frostbite hums, showing that he’s listening. “If…if there’s records of a real ghost society, with its own language and culture and everything…they’ve gotta listen, right?”

The round knife in Frostbite’s hand stills. 

“They always say that…that ghosts are just pretending, that there’s nothing to ghost consciousness, that there’s nothing to anyone’s existence in the afterlife. But there’s records.” Danny’s throat tightens. “There’s known history. There’s language and a syllabary and…and there’s political conflict and agriculture and advanced medical care and weather charts. That has to be enough proof. If I show it to them, then they should be able to see.”

The knife gets set down. Frostbite wipes his hands on a towel. Danny can’t see his face. 

“It’s gotta be enough,” Danny tries again. His throat hurts. His eyes itch. But he thinks he could be right. “So if I show it to them, and they see it, and they see how far back the knowledge goes, and how careful everyone is to take care of each other and how nice everyone is and how good, and…and…”

Frostbite’s hug is soft, and warm. It’s amazing, and it’s not his Dad’s. Danny’s Dad is never going to hug him again. 

Danny cries. 

“Oh, little one,” Frostbite hums, and his face looks just as pained as Danny feels. “Little Phantom, it’s not safe for you to return to them, even to drop off records. If they had wanted to know more of the Infinite Realms, they would have tried to search them. I do not think that they are willing to listen, and I am too afraid to risk your health to see if they would change their minds when confronted with evidence.” 

He sobs. “But, but,” Danny cries, his throat torn with emotion. The hug pins his arms so his sides, so he just ends up snotting into his guardian’s fur. “...But I need them.” 

“I know, little one.” 

“They loved me,” Danny cries, because he knows that it had been true— that, once upon a time, there had been a family made of Jazz, Danny, Mom, and Dad. “They… Frostbite, I miss them so bad!”

Frostbite’s arms tighten. He lowers himself to the ground, until Danny is in a nest of yeti fur and pain and devastation and little else. 

“I know, little one,” Frostbite says, because there’s no other reassurance he can give. 

“I won’t… They’ll never want to see me again!”

“...I am so sorry,” Frostbite murmurs, endlessly patient with him. His ears are pulled back, his eyes taut with stress. 

He can’t help it. He breaks down. 

Danny clings. He cries— long, and loud, because pretending that he had a home to go back to had only worked until it stopped. He wants to go home. He wants to pretend to be all-human again. 

He’ll never go home. He’ll never pretend to be all-human again. 

He’ll do his lessons and Jazz will ferry his schoolwork to and from Casper High but he’ll never live with her again— never do his homework on her bed, never watch Dr. Phil with her on the couch, never eat lazy breakfasts with her or spend nights wondering if she’d come home safe from her date. 

Sam and Tucker can visit, but they’ll never be able to stay; every trip will be stolen, surreptitious, since they don’t have a reason to be in his house anymore. No more Tucker and Sam gaming nights. No more trips to catch dinner together at the Nasty Burger.

No more Ops Center. No more house. 

No more of Danny’s bedroom. 

Because otherwise, Mom and Dad would know. And they would get him. 

Mom and Dad don’t love him anymore. And…that’s the end of it.

So Danny cries himself out. Wipes off his nose with his undershirt sleeve. Resolves to get over himself. It hurts, because everything hurts, but there’s still life to be lived, kind of. Probably. 

Presumably. 

He doesn’t let go of Frostbite, though, who doesn’t let go of him; so Danny ends up eating his rare Sky Whale stew on a furry throne made of guardian yeti, blearily shoving food in his mouth until his stomach stops cramping. 

Frostbite puts him back into his coat, one arm at a time. Frostbite carries him out of their cave, even though it’s usually time for a bright night’s nap after dinner. Whatever. Danny doesn't have the energy to ask what’s happening to him. 

In the end, though, Danny does recognize Tundra’s Mom’s glacial ice cavern, since no one else has such carefully carved walls. 

Frostbite doesn’t ask, and Neuschnee doesn’t disrupt; she sits, calm, carving a soapstone block, as Danny gets laid down on their woven carpet. 

Danny blinks. 

Frostbite goes, and comes back— and Neuschnee smiles wryly as Tundra gets placed down beside Danny, fast asleep and dreaming of cars. 

Danny’s never been in such a huge, furry cuddle pile before, but as Frostbite lays down, his huge shoulder pushing him into Tundra’s smaller form in a cascade of ghost dominoes…

It’s nice. 

Danny will never have back what he had, but he has this. 

…That can be enough. Right?

Danny doesn’t know the answer for sure, but he falls asleep still thinking about it, the scrape of knife on stone all that he can hear. 

…Sure. This can be enough for now. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for telling my mom im not comfortable with her bf living with us? (cw, a little abuse and animal death mentions for like 2 seconds)

i, 17 afab x, live with my mom, 39 f, during the school week and my father's mom, 65 f, during the weekend. my mom started dating jon,fake name, 34 m, on valentines day this year. she told me when picking me up with him in the car, meaning i couldn't react at all. the main reason i reacted was she explicitly told me this wouldn't happen. she also explicitly told me he wouldn't be moving in but he never left. he's a professional chef and has taken over our very small kitchen bc of that. he doesn't like our dogs until they're calm, which takes an hour, he doesn't like the cats either and has forced them to live in the hall way which is the size of a closet.

i don't like jon, ive made this known to both my mom and him. in therapy i figured out it wasn't specifically about him, just the fact i haven't lived with a grown man 24/7 since my dad and i watched him abuse my mom when i was 4 and my trauma was responding, not myself.

the other day, i realized i was no longer comfortable in the kitchen bc its his space to me and wasn't eating at this house as a result. i told my mother and was met with her pushing back and pushing for me to go on anti-depressants, something ive been adamantly against for 5 years since prozac made me a zombie.

yesterday, we talked again and she made an off comment, "im sorry me being haply is making you miserable." she quickly realized what he'd said and spent 5 minutes apologizing as i cried.

school gets out in 3 weeks and im planning on just living with my gram mostly during that time and coming back on the weekends to be with my bird, who can't come with me bc all the birds in that house besides him have died. i can't rehome him bc he's scared he's scared of anyone who isn't me and he barely likes when i interact with him...

(sorry this is so long)

aita for telling my mother im not comfortable living with her bf after she told me he wouldn't be her bf or living with us?

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

silly goose | kwon soonyoung

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii we're back baby. genre is: crack. fake dating sort of. friends to ??? basically in love i guess. everyone is an idiot and it's awesome. warnings: reader is implied to be female, wears a dress, does hair and makeup, reader is briefly followed in a menacing kind of way, soonyoung is literally the most dumbest man ever but in the BEST way, reader's friends are quite honestly the actual worst, there is a rather frightening animal encounter that's mostly just funny but could be triggering if you're afraid of birds, lmk if there's anything else i forgot!!! word count: 8.3k

If one was to look up the definition of disappointment, you’re almost positive they’d see a picture of your mom’s face if she ever found out you were in this situation. You’re disappointed in yourself. It was never your plan to be in a loud, crowded club, smushed up against the bar by two large bikers who are bouncing up and down to the beat of the music so that the spikes on the back of the taller one’s jacket get dangerously close to your eyeball. And yet, here you are.

You desperately search the room for the group of very tipsy women you came here with, but they’re nowhere to be found. Scowling, you start to inch out from behind the bikers into a slightly more open space, but even with your improved vantage point, you don’t see them. You curse. Did they really leave you here?

It’s hard for you to understand why you were even invited to this bachelorette party. The bride is your childhood best friend, but you’ve been out of touch for years. Your lives went in completely different directions after high school, clearly evidenced by the predicament in which you currently find yourself. Where you had never been the life of the party, she seemed to have no life without a party. You found yourself wishing for the thousandth time you could be at home with your books and your remote and your cat.

You decide there’s nothing for it and head outside to try and call your friend. She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is slurred and barely distinguishable over the cacophony of sound in the background of the call. You think she’s saying that they’re taking a bus to a bar across town -- about an hour away from where you are now. To get there, you’d have to call a cab and pay almost $100, or you could walk to your apartment, which is three blocks from here. “I’m going to go home,” you tell her, and she laughs and agrees and hangs up.

You grimace at your phone screen and shiver slightly. It’s a chilly night, and you didn’t bring a jacket, so you decide it’s best if you start walking. The way home is well-lit and relatively crime free, so you aren’t nervous as you set off from the club. 

That is, until you notice someone is tailing you. He’s a taller man, with scruffy facial hair and red-rimmed eyes that scare you. As you glance over your shoulder, he calls after you. “Where are you headed?” he asks.

“Going to meet my boyfriend,” you claim, desperately trying to shake him off. He seems to be picking up speed, slowly gaining on you as you walk, and as you round a corner you see a group of three well-dressed men standing in front of the movie theater just ahead. “That’s him right there,” you say, pointing at them, and the man trailing after you only picks up his speed, so you make the risky choice to jog toward them and grab ahold of the nearest man’s arm. He has his back toward you, but as you wrap your hand around his bicep, he turns to look at you.

Oh, wow, you think. Because you couldn’t have chosen a hotter man to pretend to be your boyfriend -- unless, of course, you were to have chosen either of his friends. It was strange to be surrounded by so many extremely attractive men, almost like interrupting a model meetup. But you quickly recover, smiling at the man whose arm you grabbed and saying, “Hi, honey.”

You try to communicate with your eyes, and though the man at first looks confused, he glances over your head and sees the man who’d been following you and his eyes light with understanding. “Hello, muffin!” he shouts far too loudly. 

You wince. Muffin? you think to yourself. But still, you can’t help but be amused as he puts an arm around you and sends an angry look at the man. “This is my girlfriend,” he yells at him.

“You’re being way too obvious, dude,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends hisses at him. 

“I call BS,” the stalker says, to your horror and surprise. “What’s her name?”

“Mildred,” your fake boyfriend says with no hesitation. 

You try not to let the shock of this answer register on your face. 

The stalker hesitates. “Is he really your boyfriend, Mildred?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. “Uh, yep.”

“Oh, okay then,” the stalker says. The three of you stare at each other for awhile before he turns around and leaves. 

“I cannot believe that worked,” one of your fake boyfriend’s friends says, smacking his forehead. 

“Remind me never to call you in a crisis,” the other one says, chuckling.

“What do you mean?” your fake boyfriend says indignantly. He looks at you, as though wanting your opinion, his arms still around you. “I feel like we nailed that.”

You can’t help but smile at him. He really is unfairly pretty, with perfectly tousled black hair, an artful slit in one eyebrow, and a smile that has you wondering if maybe you do believe in love at first sight. “Thanks for helping me out,” you say, so you don’t have to lie and agree that he nailed it. “Do I really look like a Mildred, though?”

“Mildred is a lovely name,” he says matter-of-factly. “And you are lovely.”

You laugh, feeling a little hot around the collar. “And what’s your name?” you ask him, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He takes it and shakes it with a warm smile. “I’m Soonyoung,” he says. He releases you from his grip with a small shake, as though reminding himself to do it. As if he’d gotten lost in you for a second.

“Soonyoung,” you repeat. “And your friends?”

“Seungkwan,” the shorter of the two others says.

“Seokmin,” the taller one replies. 

“Soonyoung, Seungkwan, Seokmin,” you chant. “Well, thanks so much for your help, guys. I need to get home to my cat.”

“By yourself?” Seokmin says in a worried tone.

“In the dark?” Seungkwan follows, equally worried.

“Without a jacket?” Soonyoung says, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well...” you say. “It’s not very far.”

“How far?” Seungkwan asks.

You hesitate. “How do I know you’re not serial killers?”

They all blink at you. “Us?” Seokmin asks.

“We’re idiots,” Soonyoung says sincerely. 

They all nod in agreement. “Seriously. If we were serial killers, we’d be caught in no time,” Seungkwan says.

“Let us walk you home,” Soonyoung insists. “I want to meet your cat.”

You’re still a bit nervous, but they keep a respectful distance as they walk you down the next two and a half blocks to your apartment building. You quickly realize that they weren’t lying. 

They are actually idiots.

The entire fifteen minute walk, Seungkwan and Seokmin are arguing about whether or not tomatoes are a fruit, culminating in Soonyoung opining that if tomatoes are a fruit, ketchup is a smoothie. The other two are (understandably) outraged by this, leaving you comforted that you actually could probably take all three of them in a fight at once, seeing as how they all seem to share one single brain cell. 

There’s something so endearing about their banter, though. So much so that when you finally arrive at the apartment, you find yourself asking if they want to come in for a minute and escape the chilly weather.

“Are you sure?” Seokmin asks.

“Positive. I have some instant ramen we could make, too. Just to warm you up. As a thank you for getting me home safe.”

They look at each other and then nod. “We’d love to,” Seungkwan says. 

So you lead them up to your door on the third floor. “Your apartment is so cute!” Soonyoung exclaims, admiring the pretty crocheted decorations that line your walls. “I love these.”

“Thanks,” you say. “I made them.”

He looks at you in awe. “You did? That’s so cool!”

“I’m glad you think so,” you say with a smile. 

“What do you do for work?” Soonyoung asks you.

“I’m a social worker,” you tell him. “I work with families in tough situations. Help them get their feet under them.”

“Do you work for the government, then?” asks Seungkwan.

“Make yourself at home,” you tell the three of them, who are standing awkwardly in the entry. As they settle onto the couch, you explain, “I actually work for a subcontractor of the government. We’re a nonprofit. On weekends, we also do a soup kitchen, and help run food banks throughout the county.”

“That must be very fulfilling work,” Seokmin points out. “Do you like it? I hear it can be tiring.”

“It’s good, but I don’t get paid enough,” you admit. “And before you ask, I do have a roommate. She’s just in the hospital. Appendicitis.”

They all wince, and Seungkwan hums sympathetically. You head to your pantry and rummage around looking for the instant ramen, finally locating it and putting a pan on the stove with water. Meanwhile, the guys find your box full of games and pull out the Monopoly. “We should play this!” Seokmin says. 

Seungkwan laughs. “We just met her, and you already want to ruin our friendship?”

Soonyoung pulls out a deck of cards. “How about Scum?”

The three of them set up the game while you make the ramen, and by the time you’re all served up all the cards have been dealt. You watch them over your own bowl of ramen, amused at the gusto with which they eat and heartwarmed by their compliments. You’re generally a bit of an introvert, but even you have been lonely the past few days with your roommate gone, and the unexpected company is warm, inviting, and friendly.

Until Scum begins. Unbeknownst to you, this group of three is the most cutthroat, merciless group of players who have ever lived. Their competition knows no bounds, and they seem determined to destroy each other, by whatever means necessary. “Don’t worry,” Seokmin whispers conspiratorially to you while Soonyoung and Seungkwan argue tooth-and-nail about a minor rule of the game. “They’re always like this, but they really do love each other.”

It takes all of them by surprise when you are the first to get rid of your cards, guaranteeing you the “king” spot. “That came out of nowhere!” complains Seungkwan.

You shrug. “I’m good with strategy games. Never challenge me to a game of Settlers of Catan,” you joke. 

Just then, your cat pokes his head around the corner and mewls reproachfully at all the noise you’re making. “Hi!” Soonyoung says excitedly, quickly dropping his cards to head over to the cat, making little cooing noises at him as he strokes his soft orange fur. “What’s its name?”

“He’s a he,” you tell him. “And his name is Tiger.”

The three men all freeze and look at you. “What?” you ask, looking around at them in worry.

“No way,” Soonyoung breathes.

Seungkwan groans. “You’ve really done it now.”

“What did I do?” you ask, bewildered.

“That’s like, the forbidden word,” Seokmin says, his tone apologetic.

Your eyes land on Soonyoung, whose entire face has lit up. “I love tigers,” he says, looking on the verge of tears.

“Love is an understatement,” Seungkwan says. “He is about to ask for your hand in marriage.”

“Will you marry me?” Soonyoung asks immediately afterward, making you laugh. His hands are still gently cupping Tiger’s face, his thumbs rubbing the cat’s fur back tenderly.

“I barely know you, Soonyoung,” you remind him. “You’ll have to pretend to be my boyfriend a couple more times before I’ll agree to marriage.”

“Bet,” Soonyoung says. “This cat needs a father. There’s nothing sadder than a fatherless cat.”

You privately disagreed, but it makes you laugh again all the same. “When am I ever going to need you to pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Soonyoung tsks. “I’m sure we could think of something.”

But almost as soon as you’d asked the question, you remembered: the wedding.

Your friend’s wedding -- the one who’d abandoned you tonight. And the one who, against your wishes, had invited your horrible ex-boyfriend. You’d had a plus-one — your roommate, who you’d enlisted to make the entire event endurable. But last-minute, her sister had needed help babysitting her daughter while she went to a divorce hearing on the day of the wedding. The wedding was in two weeks, and you didn’t have a backup date. 

Soonyoung watches in satisfaction as your face falls. “Tell me,” he says. “How can I be of service?”

“Well…you can say no,” you preface, and he chuckles. “But...” 

You launch into the story of the night. Soonyoung, Seungkwan, and Seokmin listen well throughout it, making noises of exasperation and annoyance as you explain why you’d had to interrupt their evening by pretending to be Soonyoung’s girlfriend. “They really left you there?” Soonyoung asks, frowning. He seems to tire of crouching by Tiger, so he sits crosslegged on the ground. You watch carefully as Tiger gingerly climbs into Soonyoung’s lap -- something it took him almost a year to do with you. Tiger is an affectionate and social cat, but he does take some time to warm up, usually. But something about Soonyoung seems to have put him at ease. Soonyoung doesn’t even seem to notice, absently massaging his fingers into Tiger’s neck fur.

“They really did,” you finally reply, oddly touched by the sight of Soonyoung with your cat.

“You need better friends,” Seungkwan says indignantly.

You give him a weak smile. “You’re probably right about that. But I already said I’d go, and they’ve planned for me. So it’d be bad to back out now.” You sigh. “It would be so nice to have someone to go with who’s friendly. And you can totally say no if that’s too much awkwardness to put up with for an evening.”

“Well, I have no problems with going if it means I get to spend more time with your cat in between now and then,” Soonyoung says, tickling Tiger’s stomach and giggling as Tiger swats at his fingers.

“You can always come see my cat whenever you want,” you promise him. “Even if you say no.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding thrilled. “I mean, I’m saying yes, though.”

You let out a deep breath. “Thank you so much. You’re such a lifesaver.”

“I know. Imagine the poor decisions this cat would’ve made if I hadn’t decided to be his dad.”

“I resent the implication that I am a horrible mother who can’t raise a cat to be a good citizen who makes positive contributions to society.”

“Yeah, you psycho, respect this single mother!” Seungkwan says, smacking Soonyoung’s arm.

“Well, you’re partially right,” you admit with a laugh. “Tiger is a war criminal with warrants in 32 countries.”

Soonyoung laughs as well. “See! Fatherless behavior.”

“Plenty of cats grow up to be respectable without fathers,” you say indignantly. “Just not Tiger. He’s possessed of a devil.”

The four of you all have a good laugh about this, while Tiger chirps indignantly at the sudden sound, clambering out of Soonyoung’s lap and darting down the hallway. “Traitor!” Soonyoung calls after him, heading back to the card table to finish playing. 

By the time the trio bows themselves out of your apartment, you feel warm and sleepy. It’s been a long time since you’ve had people over to your house and enjoyed it — you had forgotten how nice it was.

******

“Hey there,” you greet your friend Ginger, who waves at you from her hospital bed. 

“Hi,” she says back. “How was the bachelorette party?”

“A complete disaster, as predicted,” you tell her, pulling up a chair next to her bed. “When are you coming home?”

“Tonight, if things go well,” she informs you. “But you said you had something to tell me. Is it good or bad?”

“It’s good,” you say with a shy smile.

“How good?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Like, weird-good.”

“Explain.”

“I found a date for tomorrow.”

Her eyes go wide. “You caught someone’s eye? During the bachelorette party?”

“No, after. Well, actually, the guy whose eye I caught was a total creep. But then I forced a different dude to be my fake boyfriend to shake off the first dude, and he agreed to be my date to the wedding.”

“Is he gonna pretend to be your boyfriend there too?” she asks, a suggestive edge to her voice.

“I don’t think so. I mean, we just talked about him coming with me so I wouldn’t have to go alone.”

“How did that even come up?” she asks you.

“Well, they kind of walked me home...”

“They?”

“There were three of them initially,” you explain apologetically.

“You let three random strangers walk you home?”

“Well, they openly admitted to being idiots when I asked if they were serial killers, so I thought it was probably safe.”

“You’re an idiot,” Ginger says dryly.

“Anyway, Soonyoung -- the one who’s gonna be my date -- wanted to meet Tiger. Because he loves tigers. And then it kind of devolved into playing Scum, and then Soonyoung claimed that if he just spent more time with Tiger he’d stop committing dastardly crimes every chance he gets. And then he asked if I’d need a fake boyfriend so that he could help me raise my cat right, and it was this whole thing, and now that I’m telling you the story it sounds really dumb but it was kind of sweet.”

Ginger is staring at you with raised eyebrows during this whole account. When you finally clam up, she sighs. “So, I hate to be the person to have to tell you this, but Soonyoung is actually in love with you.”

“What?” you gasp. “Why do you think that?”

“He is using your cat to get closer to you because he’s too scared to really ask you out because he really likes you.”

“I’m not sure that’s true. You should’ve seen his face when he heard the cat was named Tiger.”

Ginger rolls her eyes. “Girl, I know more about men than I care to admit. This is textbook crush behavior.” She grunts as she adjusts her position. “And I think you like him back, too.”

“I barely know him,” you protest, heat rising in your cheeks.

“Is he hot?” she asks shrewdly.

“Yes,” you answer, without hesitation or even a single iota of forethought. You cringe at your own obviousness, and Ginger laughs.

“It’s okay,” she reassures. “But how hot?”

You consider for a while before answering. “It’s hard to describe,” you complain, feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer it takes. “He’s...pretty.”

“A pretty boy?” Ginger repeats.

“No, like, he doesn’t look dainty -- but he’s not rugged or anything. But he doesn’t exactly look soft either. But he’s not quite all the way to edgy.” You realize you’re rambling once you catch sight of Ginger’s face.

Ginger shakes her head. “You’re a goner,” she sighs.

Conveniently, your phone starts buzzing before you can respond -- not that you really had a response anyway. It’s an unknown number, but you decide to answer it. “Hello?” you say. 

“Hi,” a familiar voice chirps on the other end. Your eyes go wide, and you mouth “Soonyoung” to Ginger, who is observing curiously.

“Hi!!!” you respond back, and then wince -- you were a little too eager, and Ginger makes a face at you too. You resolve to be much cooler going forward, and take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Hi,” he says again, this time sounding amused. “What’s up?”

“Hi. Um, nothing much,” you reply. “What’s up with you?” Wow, what a zinger! you think to yourself. Why did you choose this moment to become an awkward fumbling mess?

“Well, I’m near your apartment, and I was wondering if you were home. I missed Tiger, you see.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well, um, I’m actually...out right now?” Your voice raises a few notes too high at the end of your phrase, and Ginger is pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation, trying to fight back a laugh.

“Ah, that’s bad luck. Where are you?” Soonyoung asks.

“I’m just visiting my roommate in the hospital,” you say, confused as Ginger frantically shakes her head and makes an X with her hands. 

“Tell him you were just leaving and you’ll be there soon,” she hisses, pushing you with her foot off of her hospital bed. 

“Oh, how is she doing?” Soonyoung asks. “Is she feeling better?”

“She’s absolutely fine,” you grunt, trying to fend off Ginger’s attacks and failing, slumping off the bed onto the floor. “I was actually on my way home, though. Do you have time to wait?” You stand and snatch your bag from off the small table in the room and stick your tongue out at Ginger, who blows you a kiss and waves enthusiastically as you leave.

“Yes,” Soonyoung responds immediately. “Actually, are you hungry? I brought some chicken.”

“I’m actually starving,” you answer honestly. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

True to your word, you sprint all the way out of the hospital and almost all the way home, stopping around the corner to your place to try and catch your breath and look cool when you see Soonyoung. Ginger’s words bounce around your brain in a disconcerting way, and you feel like you’re sweaty and flustered in a way that no amount of time stalling could really fix. So you decide to just bite the bullet and turn the corner. 

You can see Soonyoung waiting at the door to your apartment building. When he catches sight of you, his whole face lights up in a smile. And oh, what a smile it is. You have to physically restrain yourself from squealing at how obscenely adorable he is -- his eyes softening into crescents, his cheeks going all round and his nose scrunching just slightly. You can’t help but smile back as you finally reach him. “Hey,” you say, going for a breezy, cool vibe and missing the mark embarrassingly.

“Hi,” Soonyoung says, and to your comfort, he sounds just as eager as you did on the phone. “Um, how was the walk?”

“It was great! Super chill, super lowkey,” you lie through your teeth, thinking about how you had sprinted in a very not-chill, not-lowkey way to come see him. 

“That’s good!” he exclaims back.

“What were you doing near my house?” you ask, leading him toward the door.

“Oh, well, actually, I had to go visit this restaurant my friend works at,” he says, stuttering a little. “And he actually made extra chicken, so I thought -- well, and I knew you lived close by, so I thought it would be fun if we...I don’t know, got to know each other before the wedding?” He shrugs cutely. 

“You can just say you wanted to see my cat,” you tease, pressing the elevator button.

“I did, on the phone,” he reminds you.

“Oh,” you say.

“Oh,” he replies.

The two of you stare at each other for a minute.

Then, Soonyoung says, “Why are we so awkward?”

He doesn’t sound worried -- he even has a laugh in his voice. And for some reason, the easiness with which he addresses the strange tension in the air seems to dissipate it a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not very good with surprises. I never know how to react. But I’m very glad you’re here.” Finally, the sincerity of the words shines through, and though you normally would’ve been embarrassed at the admission, you aren’t.

He smiles that brilliant smile yet again, and your heart does a little happy-dance in your chest. “Me too,” he replies fervently. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him as the two of you board the elevator. “I never asked, before.”

“Oh, that. I’m actually a kindergarten teacher,” he tells you.

You are gobsmacked at this information. “You don’t look like a teacher,” you tell him.

“Oh yeah? What do I look like?” he asks, striking a ridiculous pose. 

You giggle. “A rockstar, maybe. Or a band manager.”

“Thank you, I think,” Soonyoung says.

“You’re welcome,” you say with emphasis. “It was a compliment.”

The two of you chat aimlessly all the way into your apartment, where Soonyoung immediately starts calling for Tiger. “Your daddy’s home,” he bellows into the empty apartment. “Where are you, son?”

You absolutely know the neighbors must have heard him, but your brief embarrassment is soothed when Tiger comes tearing around the corner, coming to a screeching halt at Soonyoung’s feet. “He never does that,” you say, in awe of this overt affection from your normally skittish-around-strangers cat. 

“He knows who I am,” Soonyoung says, bending down to pick up Tiger and cradle him in his arms like a baby. “My son,” he coos, tickling his belly and laughing when Tiger bats at his fingers with his paws.

You catch yourself before Soonyoung can tear his attention away from Tiger, knowing you were probably staring at them with heart-eyes. Shaking yourself, you open the box of chicken Soonyoung left on the counter. “Do you mind? I actually haven’t eaten today.”

Soonyoung’s gaze snaps to you. “It’s like four in the afternoon!” he exclaims indignantly. “What do you mean, you haven’t eaten today?”

“Well, I woke up kind of late, and then I was running around doing important errands, and then I had to go see my friend,” you explain. “I kind of forgot.”

He tsks in annoyance. “Well, you need to take care of yourself too. How am I supposed to co-parent this cat with you if you pass away from malnutrition?”

“You are so dramatic,” you laugh. “This doesn’t happen very often. I promise I’m a regular eater.”

He eyes you suspiciously. “Okay. You’d better be.”

You dig into the chicken while you watch Soonyoung play with Tiger. “Holy cow!” you exclaim. “This is amazing.”

“I’ll tell my friend you said so. You should go to his restaurant, it’s right across the street from you.”

“I definitely will,” you say, taking a seat at the table and patting the chair next to you. “But I think it’s time for your interview.”

“Interview?” he asks.

You nod. “I’m not about to just let the first cat-loving man I come across be Tiger’s father. I need to see if you’re prepared for the role.”

So Soonyoung, giving you a cautious look, comes to sit beside you with Tiger trotting after him. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him.

“That’s hardly a standard interview question,” he protests, laughing. 

“This is hardly a standard interview,” you shoot back. “Now tell me.”

He thinks for a minute. “Black and white.”

“Hmm, interesting,” you muse, but before you can go any further, he raises a hand.

“How about you?” he asks.

“I’m asking the questions!” you say indignantly, and he chuckles.

“Okay, but shouldn’t I know my son’s mother?” He makes a face. “That sounded weird. You know what I meant.”

You stare at him, considering, for awhile before answering. “Orange,” you finally reply. Then, in a teasing tone, you add, “Like a tiger.” 

“You’re joking,” Soonyoung insists, his eyebrows raised and his eyes wide. 

“I’m actually not,” you admit. “And can I confess something else: tigers are easily in my top five favorite animals.”

“Well, anything lower than number one is just bad taste,” Soonyoung claims, grinning.

“Ah, well, I guess we can’t all have entirely correct opinions,” you sigh. “Except you, of course.”

“You’re such a fast learner,” Soonyoung praises.

And on the conversation goes. Usually, when talking to someone as pretty as Soonyoung is, you find yourself tongue-tied and awkward, but talking with Soonyoung is as easy as breathing. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man seems to have no idea how gorgeous he is -- he doesn’t take himself too seriously, and is incredibly silly in a way most men of his level of attractiveness aren’t willing to be. And he makes you feel smart and interesting, appearing just as fascinated by your answers as you are with his.

Over the course of your conversation, you learn that Soonyoung is close with his mother; he loves all animals; he befriends strangers on public transportation and is a caring and loyal friend to so many people he can hardly keep track of them all. He can’t drink very well, he gets sad late at night, and when you ask him what he’s most proud of, he tells you that he always knows who the killer is in a game of mafia.

Try as you might to discover any red flags that would disqualify Soonyoung as the perfect father for your cat, your interview proves quite the opposite. The less-than-rational wing of your mind-palace is already picking out your wedding colors for the inevitable moment you marry this man. The less feral part of your mind is, surprisingly, cautiously optimistic. For all your reservations about dating, Soonyoung has proven someone you very much enjoy getting to know.

After several hours, the two of you arrive at the first lull in the conversation, when your laughs fade out and you just look at each other, electricity charging the air. Soonyoung breaks the silence. “So, did I get the job?”

You pretend to deliberate for a single second. “Absolutely,” you say, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He throws his arms around you instead. “We’re actually married now, and married people hug,” he explains.

You giggle nervously, despite the growing heat in your face. “I don’t remember you proposing today,” you scold him lightly, still hugging.

“The one from last night is still valid,” he says, breaking apart. “Honey,” he adds as an afterthought.

Just then, your phone rings. You answer it quickly, rushing to your bedroom to take the call. After a few minutes, you return to the kitchen apologetically. “It’s work,” you tell Soonyoung. “A situation came up with a client.”

“Do you need to leave now?” Soonyoung asks, jumping up. “Can I give you a ride?”

You shake your head. “It’s actually an hour drive and I’m not supposed to bring people who aren’t privy to the case. But — well, Tiger usually gets fed around 8 pm, and I don’t think I’ll be back by then. Would you be okay to do that? If not it’s totally fine, I can call my sister-in-law to do it.”

Soonyoung beams. “Of course. Can I wait for you to get home?”

You blink. “Soonyoung, it’ll be at least four hours from now. Probably more. We’re talking past midnight.”

“No school tomorrow,” Soonyoung reminds you, shrugging. “Plus, a group of friends invited me out to drink tonight, and I didn’t really want to go. Now I’ve got an excuse.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “You are genuinely the best,” you say, going to him and wrapping him up in your arms. “Thanks.”

He seems taken aback by your sudden hug, but responds all the same. “Be safe on your way to work,” he says softly in your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck, and you steal one final look at him before leaving.

******

By the time you get home, it’s nearly one in the morning. As you slump tiredly against the steering wheel of your car before going in, you check your phone and find several missed calls from Ginger. It is only then you remember she was scheduled to come home today, and more than likely did — to Soonyoung. 

You race up to your apartment and open the door. Sure enough, curled up on the couch with Tiger is Soonyoung. He’s fast asleep, his cheek squished against the firm cushion, Tiger keeping vigil at his stomach. Tiger meows reproachfully as you come in, taking quiet steps to Ginger’s room. She’s resting with her back against the headboard, but she opens her eyes at the sound of her door. 

“So, I came home to a man in my house,” she says expectantly. “That was crazy.”

“Yeah. We had a runaway situation that I had to figure out, and Soonyoung stayed to feed Tiger and make sure I got home okay,” you explain softly, not wanting to wake Soonyoung.

“I’m so glad he’s not a serial killer,” Ginger whispers. “He was very attentive. Kept checking on me and asking if I needed anything.”

“He did?” you ask, your heart in your throat. 

“He seems like a tender little guy,” Ginger says, watching you carefully.

“He does,” is your simple reply. You can’t trust yourself to speak without crying.

******

Soonyoung ended up accidentally sleeping over that night. In the morning, the three of you — Soonyoung, Ginger, and yourself — spent a fractionally awkward but mostly pleasant morning breakfasting together before Soonyoung insisted it was time for him to shower. After that day, he dropped by frequently. 

Sometimes he would stay for just twenty minutes, dropping off a book or visiting Tiger. Occasionally he’d bring by an ingredient for a dinner you were making, and you made it a habit to invite him to join on those occasions. The easy conversation between the two of you became an easy friendship, bursting with silliness and laughter and acceptance of each other’s quirks. You felt more and more like your real self around him. Which was crazy, especially given how thoroughly and extremely smitten with him you are.

It had taken you less than a week to realize your feelings. You’d expected to start feeling uncomfortable around Soonyoung, but for some reason, he just made it so clear that he cared about you that you didn’t even worry about if he liked you or not.

You reflect on this as you drive to your friend’s house to get ready before the wedding. You’re nervous about how this whole day will go, but the promise of seeing Soonyoung later makes it all worth it. In fact, just the thought of him being with you seems to calm your nerves and make it easier to face the day. 

You mostly keep to yourself with the bustle of getting ready. The soft pink dresses the bride picked as your bridesmaids’ dresses are not your normal style or color, but you like how the sleek satin fabric looks on you. It pairs well with your minimal hairstyle and makeup. Before you know it, it’s time for you to go get Soonyoung.

When he opens the door, his face breaks into a huge smile. “You look beautiful!” he exclaims, covering his mouth with both hands. 

“You look so handsome!” you reply, looking him up and down. He looks amazing in his black suit, white shirt, and black tie. 

“You’re not supposed to outshine the bride,” Soonyoung says sternly. “I don’t think they’ll let us in.”

“Stop it,” you say, flustered. 

“I’m serious,” Soonyoung insists. 

“Well, if they don’t let us in, I think I’d prefer that,” you say honestly.

“I’m actually excited,” Soonyoung admits. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Even though my friends are...”

“Kind of awful? Yeah, I’m not worried about it.”

“Why?” you ask.

“Because I’m not planning on paying them any attention at all,” Soonyoung says simply, his eyes fixed on you. And as he helps you into the driver’s seat, you can’t help but smile.

The wedding is a lavish affair. After the complicated wedding ceremony, where you stood at the farthest distance from the bride and had a hard time tearing your eyes away from Soonyoung, who stared at you the whole time, he whisks you away to your dinner table. 

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” you ask as Soonyoung pulls out your chair for you to sit down. 

“It was quite a view,” he teases lightly as he sits beside you.

You know what he really meant, and you give him a shy half-smile before replying, “It sure is beautiful out here!” You gesture around at the venue, which is gorgeous — a beautiful private property with loads of land, and a gazebo on the banks of a large pond, where the ceremony took place.

Soonyoung scoffs. “Well, yeah, but you seem determined to miss my point.” Nonchalantly, he slips a hand onto your knee, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. “I’m flirting with you.”

“Oh, are you?” you ask, feigning surprise. “I hadn’t noticed.” But in reality, it’s impossible to stop yourself from beaming. 

“Well, we are married,” Soonyoung says, his hand sliding across your knee to find your hand. He tangles his fingers with yours. “I think it comes with the territory.”

“If you say that too loud, you’re going to make people think it’s true,” you joke.

“Let them think that,” he says, his eyes trained on you in a way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach. You squeeze his hand and look away, slightly panicked.

Your eyes land below the table. “I like your shoes,” you blurt.

Soonyoung looks down at his plain black loafers. “These are like, my least interesting pair of shoes,” he points out with a sly grin.

“Well, you’re an interesting man,” you say, trying to recover but feeling flustered all the same. “What are your most interesting pair of shoes?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“The only thing I can count on is that they’re tiger-related,” you reply, grateful for this subject shift.

Soonyoung nods. “Calvin and Hobbes Air Force Ones,” he confirms proudly. “I should’ve worn them.”

“You would have made the bride angry.”

“That makes me want to wear them even more,” Soonyoung grumbles.

“What’s your beef with my friends?” you ask him lightly, absently trailing one of your hands over his arm.

He leans in to almost-whisper the answer. “They left you vulnerable when they should have been taking care of you, and that bothers me.”

You’re taken aback by how serious the usually silly Soonyoung sounds, but before you have a chance to respond, the music starts, heralding the arrival of the new Mr. And Mrs. You take the moment of cheering and applause to breathe deeply and steady your trembling hands. This is Soonyoung, you remind yourself. You don’t need to be nervous around him.

You’ve sufficiently pulled yourself together by the time you have Soonyoung’s attention again. “So, what will you do after the wedding is over?” you ask him, trying to keep the new, flirty side of him locked away.

“That’s an amazing question that I actually was going to ask you. Do you wanna watch a movie?” he asks.

“Well, my place is empty tonight, so that sounds kind of fun,” you admit, not sure you fully succeeded at not flirting. 

“Perfect,” he says. “So, what are you in the mood for? Action? Horror? Romcom?”

“How about…a wholesome sports movie? Those are my favorite genre of movies.”

“Really?” he asks with interest. “This surprises me about you.”

The conversation settles into its normal easy rhythm — all through dinner, you talk and laugh and enjoy each other’s company. When the dancing starts, you allow Soonyoung to pull you into his arms on the dance floor, following his lead in a smooth trot-step. “You’re a good dancer,” you observe.

“I teach kid’s dance classes on the side,” he admits. “It’s my night job.”

“Ah, and here I was, thinking you probably did pole-dancing after hours,” you tease.

“I know you’re not serious, but I am actually extremely flattered you’d assume that,” Soonyoung says. “Pole dancers are strong.”

“So are you,” you point out. 

“How do you know?” he asks.

You swallow hard. “Uh, you — your arms,” you stutter. “They're…really nice.”

Soonyoung (unconsciously?) flexes his bicep under your hand, and your knees nearly buckle. It’s almost pathetic how affected you are by him, especially given that he hasn’t even made a move yet, and you cringe inwardly at yourself.

“Are you okay? You look uncomfortable,” Soonyoung asks. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine?” you reassure, but in the least convincing voice ever. 

“Do you need some water?” he asks, concerned.

“Yes, that’d be amazing,” you say, shooing him away and fanning at yourself, your mind full of useless chiding for being so embarrassingly whipped.

A tap on your shoulder startles you from your thoughts. “Hi,” says a familiar voice — and your stomach drops.

It’s your ex boyfriend, the one you’d asked your friend not to invite but to no avail. “Hi,” you say shortly. 

“You look great,” he says, to no reply from you. “The color suits you.”

“Is there something you want?” you ask him, trying to make it clear you don’t want to talk with him about anything.

“Just trying to catch up on what’s happened since, well, you know—“

“Since I caught you cheating?” you finish. “Yeah, life’s been really great since then. Thanks for the trust issues.”

He gives a sheepish little grin. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, like he’s a call center employee placating an angry customer. “I got promoted at work.”

You could punch him. You would, if you weren’t at a wedding. Luckily all murderous intent is redirected by a very timely Soonyoung, who arrives on the scene with a confident, “hey, baby!” and a hand outstretched with a glass of water.

“Oh, you came with someone?” your ex says. He sizes up Soonyoung, who is easily bigger than him, and shrugs. “Bad luck. Maybe next time.”

“I was this close to ruining this wedding,” you confess as Soonyoung wraps a protective arm around your waist, watching your ex saunter away. “He started talking about his promotion.”

“Didn’t he cheat on you?” Soonyoung asks, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, scowling.

“Well, drink your water, and then we can dance again. You’ll forget all about him.”

This turns out to be true. Dancing with Soonyoung is so much fun -- he seems unusually good at it, and leads you very well, but also doesn’t take things too seriously, letting you spin him or even pretending to do a dip in which he almost falls over. The whole thing is just so ridiculous that you find yourself giggling through it, needing to pause and take a break. Soonyoung suggests that the two of you take a walk down to the lake, and you readily agree. 

He holds your hand during the walk, and you can feel yourself trying to explain away his behavior -- he’s probably just trying to scare off your ex, or any of the other bridesmaids who’ve been making eyes at him all evening (which you’ve been pretending not to notice or care, but which you most definitely have noticed and are not happy about). Or maybe he just wants some affection. Or maybe it’s something else. It certainly can’t be the simplest explanation -- that Soonyoung likes you in the same way you like him. 

The banks of the water are muddy and slick, and you and Soonyoung have to cling to each other for balance, but you’re still giggling like children as you kick off your shoes and let your toes sink into the murky shallows of the pond. “It’s freezing,” you say, hopping out almost immediately and colliding with Soonyoung, who automatically throws his arms out to steady you. Your laughter fades as you look into his eyes, which are wide and uncharacteristically shy and nervous. He swallows. Hard.

“Uh....” he says, stammering. “You’re -- you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you say in a tense whisper.

“I think I -- I think I like you,” Soonyoung whispers back.

“You think?” you ask, smiling a little.

“No, that was ridiculous,” he corrects. “Uh, I like you. For suresies. For realsies.”

“For suresies and for realsies?” you say with wide eyes, and he cringes.

“Throw me a bone, please,” he whines. “I’m nervous.”

And he is. You can tell that this normally confident boy is all but in pieces after making his confession. So you untangle yourself from Soonyoung’s grasp and turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck and looking at him. “So am I,” you admit. 

And at this, Soonyoung beams. If you didn’t know better, you’d think that a smile that lights up a room was a bit of metaphorical nonsense that didn’t truly apply to anyone, but seeing this now, you figure that was an understatement in Soonyoung’s case. This kind of smile from him was enough to support intelligent light on several planets. And you? Just like a moon, you know you’ll be rotating around him your whole life, just reflecting that light. It is impossible to fully describe the way it warms you from the inside out.

You’re so distracted by Soonyoung himself that you don’t notice how he’s leaned in close until his lips brush yours. And, in fact, this move surprises you so much that you jump, startled, which sends you sliding into the mud, dirtying up your pale pink dress and causing an angry honk to emanate from the reeds where you land. Before you know it, a goose is hissing in your ear, and you shriek with terror as you scramble to your feet, running with all your might from the furious bird, who emerges from its marshy home to chase you up the hill toward the wedding party.

You never thought you’d need to answer the question, “Could I beat a goose in a fight?” And now, here you are, with a very clear answer indeed: absolutely not. The goose is fast, using a combination of an aggressive waddle, short bursts of low flight, and what is more than likely a higher-than-average dose of unfettered bloodlust to stay right on your heels all the way onto the dance floor, where wedding guests dive out of the way in cartoonish confusion. You don’t have time to think about how ridiculous you must look, covered in mud, running from a murderous goose, before Soonyoung firmly plants himself in front of the rampaging animal. 

And inexplicably, it stops, looking up at Soonyoung with its unsettlingly blue eyes. He stands with his hands on his hips and glares down at the goose. “You interrupted what was supposed to be a very romantic moment for me,” he scolds. “Now shoo!”

And you watch, dumbfounded, as the goose gives a plaintive squawk before toddling back to its pond. “How did you do that?” you gasp. 

It is only then that you realize the entire wedding is staring at you. And for good reason -- the bride and groom are about to cut the cake. The terror of being chased by Satan’s personal fowl pales in comparison to the sight of the bride. Her eyes are even more murderous than the bird’s had been -- and she’s holding a cake knife to boot. 

So, before any other awful things can happen, you grab Soonyoung’s hand and run. Out of the wedding area, off the farm, onto the dirt road where you parked your car, realizing too late you left your shoes by the pond and not daring to face the wedding party or the goose to retrieve them. By the time you arrive at your car, you’re laughing so hard you’re crying. Soonyoung, though bewildered, joins in, and the two of you double over, struggling to breathe with the absurdity of it all.

When you’ve both been reduced to gasps for air, Soonyoung turns to you, leaning back against your passenger side door for support. “Is every day of your life like this?” he asks through deep breaths.

“Why?” you ask, your face falling. “Are you getting tired of rescuing me?”

He chuckles. Unexpectedly, he pulls you toward him by the waist, seemingly unbothered by the mud. “Not at all,” he says, pulling a stray clump of weeds from your hair. “I’d rescue you every day if you asked. I just need to know how much prep work I need to be doing. I mean, do I need to start a new workout routine? Do I need to learn karate geared toward beating up ducks?”

“That was a goose,” you correct. Then you register what he said. “You’d rescue me every day?”

He suddenly looks nervous again. “If you want,” he offers, pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear.

But your answering smile is enough to tell him that’s exactly what you want. With a mite more confidence, he grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb and pulls your lips to his.

This kiss is much more substantial than the last. Soonyoung’s arms wrap around you, his hands resting on the small of your back, locking you into his grasp and making it difficult for you to pull away -- as if you would, because his kisses are sweeter than summer strawberries. As the warm winds begin to pick up speed, as your hair whips around you and your muddy dress is blown every which way, your heart seems to crystalize into calmness. Kissing Soonyoung feels like putting the last piece into a puzzle, like coming inside from a cold rain to a warm fire, like watching bees flit from flower to flower in a late spring sunset. It feels perfect. It feels right.

You could go on kissing Soonyoung forever, until the two of you became statues locked in an embrace, but eventually you do pull away. Soonyoung laughs at the deep, shaky breath you take, and so do you, bringing a hand to touch his pink cheek in wonder. “You’re so beautiful,” you tell him.

“Not as much as you,” he replies warmly. 

Then a thought strikes you. “Also, when were you going to tell me you have mind control over geese?”

He shrugs. “It wasn’t mind control. It was the eye of the tiger.” He brings his hand up in an imitation of a paw print, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Okay. If you’re a Disney Princess, you can just say that.”

“Okay. I’m a Disney Princess,” Soonyoung agrees. “Does that make you happy?”

“Only if I get to be the Disney Prince,” you mumble, nestling into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Deal,” he replies. You can hear the smile in his voice as he does.

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

Chaotic Dumbassery (Soft Yandere!Friend x Thembo!Reader)

I know I haven't been working on people's submissions, prioritizing kinktober, but I'm having a really tough time and need some light humor in my life

GN!Reader, mild manipulation, mostly fluff ❤️

Hughie was labeled as a "genius" early on in his childhood. At the age of five his parents were already discussing with the local elementary school about starting him off in a higher grade. Despite all of the praises Hughie received from adults, their compliments felt hollow, and the more they pushed him to accelerate his growth realize his potential, the further he felt isolated from the people around him. Emotionally, it was like being trapped as an exhibit in a zoo. They all smiled down at him and cooed, but he could not feel them.

Then, Hughie met (Reader).

Wasting his summer before school began, his parents inside speaking to teachers about letting Hughie skip kindergarten, no one noticed when he slipped out, wandering the empty halls to the playground, where surprisingly a child was playing in the dirt with their parent sitting nearby.

Fat little fingers were poking into the dirt beneath a tree, filling the holes with seeds. Hughie often had no problem speaking to adults, but he didn't have many opportunities to interact with other kids his own age. Nervous to the point of nausea, he approached the kid, gripping his ugly grey polo aggressively enough to stretch out the shirt.

"What are you doing?"

The kid covered in dirt wearing a pizza sauce stained Batman shirt looked up at Hughie with excitement so powerful he could physically feel it burning his face like sun beams. "Planting bird seeds!"

"Oh. Why?"

"To grow birds. Duh." They went back to poking holes and planting the seeds.

The little boy with black curly hair was shocked. He didn't know everything about reproduction, but he knew that birds came from eggs. It was the first time he had ever heard something so preposterous, and it kind of stupefied him. Crouching down to get closer to the strange little kid, Hughie felt star struck. "I don't think that's how birds are made."

"Yuh-huh! Whenever Granny throws seeds out, birds grow, and then in the morning they fly away "

"I think they eat the seeds.."

(Reader's) eyes went wide, dropping their fistful of bird food while whipping around to face Hughie. "Huh?"

"Birds come from eggs."

Standing up quickly, Hughie could see that the kid's knees were covered in bandaids, something he never really needed. They looked down at him like he just told them that Santa wasn't real. "What?!" Before he could reiterate his answer Hughie's arm was grabbed by the much stronger stranger, dragging him over towards the woman sitting on the bench. "Mom!"

"Yes?" The woman smiled with heavy, exhausted eyes.

"Do birds come from eggs?!"

"Yes? Why?"

(Reader) dropped Hughie's hand, their brain malfunctioning under the new information. Hughie started to worry that maybe he had upset them, that maybe he shouldn't have told them the truth, when they suddenly grabbed him by his shoulders, violently shaking him. "What is your name, smarty pants?!"

"Hu-Hughie!" The wild swaying of his head affecting his speech.

"I'm (Reader)! You wanna go catch crickets?"

"Sure-"

"Hughie!" His father's voice cut him off, the smartly dressed man finally finding his son and descending onto the playground. "Don't disappear like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Let's go back inside. The teachers have some questions for you." He said excitedly, motioning towards the school.

Hughie felt a sense of dread. He was smart, really smart, which meant that he knew if he passed the tests waiting for him, he wouldn't be able to be in a class with kids his own age. Which meant that he wouldn't be able to make friends.

"No."

Hughie latched onto (Reader), and decided to act his own age.

"I want to go catch crickets with (Reader)!"

"Yeah!" (Reader) replied, glaring up at the stranger as sassily as a five year old could.

Although that interaction ended with (Reader's) mother apologizing, holding back her child from kicking the man in his shins, and Hughie's father carrying him kicking and crying up to the classroom, it was ended in Hughie's favor. He purposely failed his tests, and when school started up, he was placed in the same kindergarten as (Reader).

The two became inseparable, much to his parents' dismay.

It only got worse as they got older, and even the teachers took notice of Hughie's "double life".

By the last year of middle school, Hughie already proved himself smart enough to get his GED and be enrolled in any university of his choice. But (Reader) didn't know that.

Hughie's mother sighed heavily, finding (Reader) on her doorstep. Hey disdain for the teenager wasn't concealed in the slightest, but it didn't phase (Reader).

"Mornin', Mrs. G! I'm here to pick up the H-bomb."

"I could drive you two." She grimaced. "It's dangerous for two children to walk to school."

"Oh, we won't be walking." (Reader) smiled.

Hughie rushed past his mom, smiling just as brightly as (Reader). "'Sup!"

"Please let me drive you-"

"Bye Mom!" Hughie cut her off, giving her a warning glance before bouncing back to his reflection of (Reader's) joyful attitude. "Let's go, (Reader)."

The two friends ran down to (Reader's) homemade "scooter", an extra wide plank of thin wood with wheels screwed on, painted with flames. It was made by (Reader) and their mom to have enough space for at least three teenagers to comfortably ride, four if they squish together tightly and held on for dear life. It was a hazard, and Hughie loved it.

He loved everything about (Reader), actually. Since he began purposefully fucking up his grades just enough to never get moved up, he had made a good friend group, a group a guys that were a lot of fun to get into trouble with, but his best friend was (Reader). Many people joked that the two were already an old married couple, which (Reader) leaned into, completely unaware of Hughie's feelings. It was strange. And he couldn't explain it to anyone.

(Reader) was his best friend; a sibling; a partner in crime; and someone Hughie recently found himself wanting to kiss silly.

They rode down the sidewalk at top speeds, bumping over rocks dangerously. Hughie wanted to wrap his arms around their waist but couldn't until they picked up their other buds. They stopped by Brody's house, watching him run away from his wooden spoon wielding Grandma, then at Everett's, which finally allowed Hughie the excuse of hugging (Reader). It didn't matter if Brody clung to him similarly; just as long as he was the only one holding (Reader).

The four idiots of Jackson Middle School traveled faster than any of the cooler students on skateboards, speeding recklessly with the force of four teenagers pushing the wooden beast.

Teachers and parents gave disapproving sneers as they barely stopped in time to prevent themselves from crashing into the arriving school buses. Mr. Stone especially.

(Reader) dragged the transportation over to the bicycle rack laughing with Hughie over the fear in the bus driver's eyes when they nearly collided into the side of the bus.

"I don't know why she was so mad, it's not like we were gonna damage the bus!" Brody loudly complained, arms behind his head.

No, it was because we could have gotten hurt. Hughie smiled, not voicing his thoughts out loud. (Reader) wouldn't have this kind of fun with him if they knew that this wasn't his real personality. Calm and studious, Hughie naturally didn't enjoy being outside. He was a nerd at heart, and would prefer reading in solitude to participating in sports. But he would do anything to spend more time with (Reader).

Mr. Stone appeared before the quartet, smiling tightly. "May I have a word, Mr. Gressler?"

(Reader) stuck a finger in their nose. "Huh? He's not on the clock yet."

Everett rolled back his shoulders too try to look bigger. "Yeah, we haven't had breakfast yet."

"I'll catch up with you guys." Hughie waved at them, shooing them away. They left for the cafeteria, still making snarky remarks towards their teacher.

As soon as they were out of sight Hughie's face changed, losing all of his good humor and patience. "What did you want to talk about, Mr. Stone." His teacher's name tasted bitter, so he spit it out.

"Let's go to the principal's office."

They quickly walked through the halls, irritating Hughie. He knew what this was about, and he wasn't interested in the slightest.

Once inside the office, Mr. Stone closed the door, trapping Hughie inside with the grinning older Principal Wells. "Please, have a seat, Hughie." She offered politely.

"No thanks. I need to go to breakfast, so I'd like to make this quick." His hands were in his pockets, and his body leaning on one leg, emphasizing his boredom.

Mr. Stone cleared his throat. "We've been talking about moving your classes around.."

"Why?" His cracking voice snapped.

"We've noticed that.. I believe that your friends aren't the best influence on you." Stone took a deep breath, looking to the principal for assistance.

"After speaking to your teachers I learned that you do exceptionally well when you aren't paired up with one of your friends. If it's a test, or a solo project, your work is incredible. No matter what the subject is, you exceed in every class.. but when you have a project you have to present to a class, in your classes you have with a student named (Reader), you disrupt the day by presenting very odd topics. And when you work with (Reader), you mess around the entire time or create chaos." The principal was referring to two specific instances; Hughie's presentation on how WW2 was responsible for the creation of hentai, and the science fair project he worked on with (Reader) trying to prove that Birds weren't real. Both times he chose the topics just to see (Reader's) face light up.

"Hugh, you're an incredibly bright young man. We want to see you excel." Mr. Stone pleaded.

"I'm not moving up. I'm staying in my classes. We haven't caused any major disruptions that could have interfered with other students learning, and may I remind you that we both got an A minus on that science fair project?" He turned to leave, done with dealing with adults he knew he was smarter than. "And if you move around my classes, I'll go to the superintendent, and the school board. You're discriminating against my fellow students because you believe them to be stupid."

"We never said-"

"I'm not an idiot. They're bad examples on me because we have fun? That isn't the argument you think it is."

"Mr. Gressler, come back here-"

"Unless I'm in trouble, then no. You aren't allowed to prevent me from having breakfast. And if you continue I'll call my mother." Hughie was cold, indifferent. He knew what they were saying, but it was the exact same shit he'd been hearing since he was three years old. He's special, so he's not allowed to act his age.

He left the office and stomped towards the cafeteria. He knew they wouldn't stop embarrassing themselves, but he also refused to back down.

Inside the lunch hall, (Reader) was having a battle with the boys, construction French toast sticks into action figures with pretzel sticks. The sight of (Reader) focused on the fight made Hughie feel funny, releasing an eruption of butterflies. It was okay if he continued lying to his friends, because he could continue playing with them like this.

"Dude, I got you some!" (Reader) held out a plate. They had no idea how much Hughie loved them.

His smile fell, feeling suddenly very hot.

"Dude, you okay?" Everett asked out of concern. "Did you get in trouble or something?"

Hughie couldn't answer, taking the plate silently while avoiding eye contact. Quickly shoving in pretzel crackers like nails, he constructed his own breakfast warrior. "FEEL MY WRATH, LOSERS!"

The friends instantly forgot about their worrying, watching as Hughie's creation punched (Reader's) creation's head off.

It was okay if Hughie kept pretending to be a dumbass, because it was more fun that way. He would gladly sacrifice his entire future to fuck around with (Reader) for the rest of his life. He could see himself, in the future, sharing an apartment with his three amigos, working at some dead end job, playing video games every night after work. It would be better than if he went off to some college and became a lawyer.

If only he could ignore the erratic beating of his heart.

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Aurora and Bucky discuss the future of their relationship.

Warnings: intimacy

Series Masterlist

Seven years ago

“Will you be able to help him?” Aurora stared at Bucky through the cryostasis chamber. She felt lonely without him, but it was necessary in order to remove the code words that activated the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, but it will take time,” Shuri answered, who, as she spoke, was analyzing data on multiple monitors. Another pang rippled through Aurora, more intensely, as she thought about her father. How alike Tony and Shuri were.

She’d agreed to stay with Bucky in Wakanda, and though she didn’t feel any sense of regret in her decision, she was beginning to understand the weight of the consequences. She was on her own in a foreign country. At least she had something Steve and the others didn’t.

“I’ll be back,” Aurora informed Shuri. “I’m going for a walk.”

Shuri nodded. “Sergeant Barnes is in good hands.”

Shuri’s regard put Aurora further at ease. Stepping out of the lab, she followed the trodden dirt path through the canopy. The tropical heat bore down upon her, beading sweat across her brow. Gingerly, she brushed her fingers through the tall stalks of grass—a stark contrast to the concrete world of Manhattan.

She walked until she found a secluded spot near a small body of water. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, she closed her eyes. She listened to the birds and insects chirping, as children played in the distance, until her mind stopped, and silence permeated.

“Mom?”

“My darling, what ails you?”

Cocooned in Aphrodite’s presence, Aurora relaxed her shoulders and breathed easier than she had in weeks.

“I did something…” Her mother listened as she divulged everything: the Sokovia Accords, and Tony aligning himself with an entity that would force her to sign over her powers to the government, and then ultimately choosing Bucky over Tony, after Baron Zemo declassified the Winter Soldier’s involvement in the murder of Tony’s parents. “It wasn’t him. He was brainwashed by HYDRA. He wasn’t given a choice.”

“My darling, you understand men’s hearts better than anyone. You see Bucky for the man he truly is. For all his smarts, your father does not. Do you intend to see this through?”

“Yes, I won’t abandon Bucky. He’s…”

“A traumatized man, yes, but I have faith.” Aphrodite paused. “You doubt your own inner strength?”

“I—” Aurora stammered.

“You are a demigoddess who is still learning. Give it time. As the mortals say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

~ * ~

Aurora stretched her limbs languidly, humming as she rolled onto her side. The vibranium arm draped over her waist twitched when she moved, but otherwise lay motionless. Bucky looked so tranquil in the early morning haze—it was mostly sunny, save for a thin veil of clouds.

“I can feel you staring at me.” He tightened his arm around her and shifted her on top of him. Opening his eyes, his gaze softened seeing her face. “Morning,” he mumbled.

“Good morning.” Aurora smiled, feeling him raise up as she bent to press her lips to his. They met halfway, his fingers stroking her skin in lazy circles.

Bucky furrowed his brow. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been fucked by a Super Soldier,” she teased with a grin.

“Aurora…”

“I feel good,” she assured him, forgoing to mention the soreness between her legs. There was no sense in worrying him needlessly, when it was exactly what she wanted. She hated that six months apart had wrecked everything they’d endeavored to heal in Wakanda, but trauma like grief wasn’t linear. She imagined Sam would tell Bucky the same thing.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” he asked.

“Which part?”

“All of it,” he whispered.

Memory loss was something he fraught with, and Aurora tried to be patient even when that meant telling him the same thing repeatedly. “Everything I told you was true. I haven’t been with anyone else since the Snap. I want you, Bucky, and… I missed you,” she admitted, “I missed us. You were right to call me out for not contacting you—”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay. I was afraid. The thought of losing you again…” She sighed, feeling Bucky squeeze her leg. He wanted to tell her she wouldn’t, but knew it was a promise he couldn’t make. “I’m willing to risk it. In the end, sharing one lifetime with you will be worth it. And I get two.”

Bucky smiled. “Once we get back to the States, I’m going to take you out on a proper date. Flowers, movie, dancing… you deserve it, doll. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to do those things in Wakanda.”

“How very old-fashioned of you, Sergeant.” Growling, he pulled her in for another kiss. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to dance and mingle in her mouth. He trailed his fingers along her thigh, stopping at the knock on the door and Sam’s voice filling the room.

“Hey, lovebirds, it’s time to go.”

Bucky’s head fell back onto the pillow with a groan. “I hate him.”

[velvetcloxds]

LITTLE BIRD- CHAPTER TWO | S.B.

word count: 1.8k

characters: mafia!sirius, secret agent!regulus (not related to sirius in this au), prince!james, princess!reader, potter!reader, bodyguard!lily, future prince!remus

series warnings: blood and violence, non-canon characters and places, no magic, time lapses between parts, non-conventional viewing of monarchy and other social systems, mafia characters, semi-legal things, love triangle

summary: regulus confronts you about going to see sirius alone, your parents being home forces you to lie about how you solved the crisis in their absence and even amid damage control you're still thinking about sirius, seems he's thinking about you too

previous chapter | series masterlist

You half expected them to be waiting for you, ready with the full set of questions they usually have you run through, your mom with James, your dad with you, conveniently working to your advantage even though they’ve yet to figure that out. Your mother always got James to squeal, just the right amount of pressure and he’d sing like a bird, his own praises of course, some pile of lies about how he saved the day, made it all work out to his good without the real details, which you’d fill up for him with your dad, despite the knock to your own pride. However, the palace was eerily quiet when you and Lily arrived, the staff at hand and ready as always but your parents weren’t waiting in the dining room after you’d trekked your way there, James was eating alone, the table set yet empty still but there was some food missing from what would’ve been their plates.

“Look at you, home just in time for your warm welcome,” he spoke over a nearly empty glass of wine, messily setting the glass down next to his plate. “How’d you do it, little sister?” it was a slurred question, one he’d probably been pondering since you left and you were ready as always too, prepared with a line-up of stories fit for the situation but your curiosity got the better of you, you wanted this conversation to end quickly and find them soon after. Whatever they’re flawed parental endeavours, your parents were torturously insistent on having dinner together every night it was possible, especially after long trips away from their children, especially after a crisis.

“Regulus,” the easiest lie, also the one that prompted the least number of questions, you didn’t expect him to scoff, didn’t expect him to smirk at you either and you were just about to question that when you heard the man in question’s voice, followed only by your father’s.

“I heard my name,” Regulus looked as handsome as ever, more so in his uniform than you remember from growing up and mostly just seeing him prancing around in a loose shirt and jeans, your dad was smiling so brightly you’d think he hasn’t seen him in ages though really you all saw him the day they left, still you believe age was making him softer than before, you’d never tell him that. Regulus smiled over at you as well, his face distorted momentarily as your dad forced you into a hug, a quick kiss placed to your cheek as you just barely caught the little nod that Regulus gave you, it said enough, it promised that Sirius came through in more ways than one. “Good to see you again, Princess, heard my friend helped you out,” Your dad didn’t let go, didn’t ask for confirmation either but you knew if your mother was around that wouldn’t be the case.

“I’m sorry I’m late, I got stuck in traffic on the way back- can’t believe you beat me home,” you lied, gripped your dad’s waist as one last welcome home before he let you go and drifted right back to Regulus’ side. “And all of you at that, actually, where’s mom?��� you had to wonder if Regulus had caught her up yet too or was that your task to do.

“She’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” Your dad wasn’t one to pretend he didn’t know she spent the whole time away simply waiting to be back to gossiping and eating the night’s dessert right from the fridge before the boys got to it, the only little bit of royal rebellion she had left in her after all this time. “Leave some for the rest of us, won’t you,” he joked, and you smiled, a familiar thing, it felt good having them home after all, despite the drama and the lies that was ahead of you.

“Actually, can I have a word with you first?” the question was for you but it was aimed at your dad still, he nodded, didn’t think much of it really, mumbled something about having the server set up some new plates for him and Regulus who took hold of your arm gently to guide you as far away from curious ears as he could without looking suspicious. “What were you thinking?”

Honestly you should’ve expected him to push back, even if you were the one to set up the agreement between Regulus and Sirius, Regulus was very serious about never speaking to him alone, without protection- had he only known how common that was, how many nights you’d snuck off right into danger without a single consideration about what might go wrong. It started out as a deal for peace and peace was definitely still the goal, but there was something intriguing about Sirius, about a man brought up in the role of his family, no choice, not really and somehow there still seemed to be so much more to him, behind the title and the danger and the threat of his very being. Maybe you related to him in the most mundane way, carrying a burden that was yours way before you were even born, fighting a battle that was started even long before that.

“Oh, don’t start, alright, Lily was with me, and we were careful,” you checked the door, made sure he closed it properly just in case your whispered words weren’t soft enough. “You being here, saying that to my dad, that’s more cause for suspicion than anything else,” you were right, he knew that too, and logic couldn’t explain why he said what he said, he just wanted to show you that he knew, show you that he was unhappy being cut out when you were only ever supposed to be the one in the middle.

“I’m sorry,” he pulled a hand through his hair, rolled his eyes into the air as if annoyed with himself, for a man who taught you to think through every action, every word, he wasn’t doing a very good job living by that. “Listen, I don’t like the idea of you being too comfortable around him, around his people- he’s helping us now, but don’t confuse his willingness for alliance.”

“I know,” you did, so why you were annoyed at hearing it was beyond you. “He’s a means to an end, Regulus, I know that and so does he- I needed help, he was willing to provide that, don’t confuse my ability to play at your game for naivety.”

You caught him on that and there was more to be said but your mother was calling for you, your brother was hallway through another drunken rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody sung at the top of his lungs and your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, begging you to text the very person you swore you could not care less about.

“If your mother finds out now, before we’re ready, it’ll ruin everything, we’ll cause a war.”

“And if she finds out you’re the one making me hide it from her, there will be much more than a war for you to worry about,” you had grown tired of this conversation, wanted to be anywhere else. “Goodnight, Regulus, it was good seeing you again, but we have a system for these types of conversations, don’t bring this up in the palace again.”

Fresh off what anyone would consider a victory, you were more annoyed than relieved, there was something to be said about being a powerful woman in this family. Your mother had taken a crown meant only for her corrupt father and built a country up from ruin, ended the reign of the mafia threatening to destroy the entire monarchy and she’d done so while raising two children and facing the constant ridicule of marrying her military advisor and still- beyond all logic, woman still had to earn their place in this palace. It was frustrating, the only person who’d yet to question your abilities was Sirius Black, the very man you should stay as far away from as possible.

“There’s my girl,” you’d found your mom crossed legged on the counter, she was about as far away from a royal example as you could get, yet still she never looked out of place, even with remnants of chocolate pudding smudged on her chin and your father’s dress shirt thrown over her sleep pants way before it would be acceptable for the staff to see her as such.

“Mom,” she opened her arms for a hug, one hand balancing her bowl, the other taking you into her chest just like she did when you were a kid and you laughed lightly at the sight of her, used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe her face, earning a warm smile from her lips as well. “I’m glad you’re home safe,” what else could you say, truly it wasn’t the first time your parents had disappeared without a word or warning, and you considered it might not be the last, while you considered your future, they were still putting out fires from other parts of their past.  “We missed you.”

“I hear James saved the day,” you both scoffed at the same time, laughed because of it, of course she’d never fall for the pretty tales told in her absence, if only she knew. You slipped onto the counter with her, took the extra spoon she offered and scooped a large bite from her bowl. “Thank you,” you hummed around your spoon, shrugged it off quickly, as much as it did your ego good, you didn’t want her to create an opportunity for you to lie to her. “Your dad and I are very proud, you know, can’t imagine it was easy having to deal with this mess just the two of you.”

“Well, I mean we had help.”

“Regulus, of course,” she wasn’t technically wrong so you saw no reason to try and correct her. “Well still, dove, you were very brave,” the words sent your mind adrift and as if his ears were burning all the way across town your phone vibrated in your pocket, two times, just like you’d set it to and while she was reaching over the counter for some more sprinkles you couldn’t help stealing a glance to see what it said. “Think your dad would want some cherries with his?” you nodded, hummed, you’d think you were entirely focused on her but really you were going over the sentence a few more times in your head.

From Padfoot:  Glad you got home safe, little bird, I’ll let you know how I’m planning to collect my debt soon.

[g1i77ers1ut]

Jujitsu Kaisen: Happy Ending

Intro

What if at the end of JJK, everything was just a dream. Yuji Itadori was in a real deep sleep and everything we have saw was just imaginary. However, everyone was still apart of Yuij’s life. Here’s a list of everything that would happen if everything was a dream.

Disclaimer, these are all my thoughts and opinions, and also not fully confirmed when making this. So, things might change during time when we get next chapters and other stuff. Another thing, I’ve barely even finished JJK, so don’t be mean and just help inform me on anything that I missed or did wrong.

The main group

Obviously, Nobara Kugisaki and Megumi Fushiguro would be Itadori main friends.

Since in the dream Nobara is seen using a hammer and nails as her like main weapon, she would have been a very like working hands person. She’s slightly tomboyish who, if this was taken in America, would work in workshop. But even working with her hands, Nobara still is girly. Shopping and being her girly pop self. But even without her weapons and cursed energy, she still has the same attitude.

Now Megumi, his main weapon are his cursed animals. Since he has a lot of them, he would probably have the same amount in the real world. Besides the elephant bc that can’t be really possible. He would have his demon dogs, snake, frogs, rabbits, and bird things. I don’t really know what it is, so I think he might just have a standard pet bird. Also, since this is supposed to be happy, Megumi would know that Toji is his dad. I believe the backstory would be that his mom and dad went through a break up, making Toji leave Megumi until he was a teen. the reason why it was long is bc Toji and Megumi don’t see each other till Megumi was like a teen. Also, Megumi’s mom is alive, bc happy family.

Second Years

There aren’t big changes, besides well Panda. Maki Zenin would be herself bc I don’t really know what to change of her cause she’s technically a normal person. She would just be her badass self.

Same with Toge Inumaki. He would be basically a quiet kid and have his friends speak for him. Instead of saying “Tuna with Mayo,” and being carful speaking, he would say one or two words out to people. If he wanted to have a full sentence he would tell it to his friends and they will speak it for him.

Now Panda, there are two ways to go at this. The first thing I thought was making him like a Tuxedo cat that would follow around the group. But my friend had a better idea. They thought of making Panda a mascot and now writing this it sounds so much better. Panda in the real world would be this big chubby dude that is cuddly like a bear, adding to the idea of bear. He volunteered to be the mascot which is, obviously, a Panda. He still is confident, loving self, but not with fur.

Sorcerers

Obviously, most of the sorcerers would be a worker at the high school. Do I know what position they would be yet? Not really, besides the principal being the principal. In the making of this, I don’t know what each sorcerer would teach or position they would be in, but I would like ideas. However, the only person I have a position for is Satoru Gojo. He would be like a Teacher’s assistant. He would still be an upper class student, but would mostly help not only teachers but lower class students. He’s also really good with time management and still has his piercing blue eyes, but doesn’t have that big power in them. They will however give you a headache if staring at them for too long.

Cursed Spirits

Since there are many cursed spirits we could talk about, I’m just gonna talk about the main four.

Let’s start off with the icon who created the group and is technically not a cursed spirit, Suguru Geto. He is basically, for my goofy obsession people out there right now, Bradly Uppercrust the Third. However, Geto isn’t that snooty and stuff. He’s still his chill controlling self, and taunts Itadori and his gang while in school. Just imagine Itadori, Megumi and Nobara passing by Geto, Mahito and Jogo in the hauls. While passing by in the hauls Itadori and Geto make anger eye contact. Mostly Itadori glaring while Geto is smirking and looking straight into Itadori’s eyes.

Now onto the crackhead Mahito. He’s basically just himself but just doesn’t reform others when touching them. He still touches them but the only reason why the thought of reforming others came to mind is bc when Mahito touches you, it is so uncomfortable that your whole organs move around weirdly. Also his hands are so cold that it makes your limbs twist and turn.

Lastly, the fireball himself, Jogo. So, he’s obviously a person, not a pimple looking volcano. Also before I continue, if it sounds like I’m insulting him, it’s bc I am. Jogo is definitely a big back gremlin. That’s really the only thing I think of if he was a human.

Jogo definitely, as a kid, set ants on fire with a magnifying glass. As a teen, he uses illegal fireworks and small strong fire sticks. He also sets trash cans on fire. Basically, Jogo is an arsonist.

Junpei Yoshino

So, there’s a reason why I have a hatred for Mahito. It’s not bc he touches people but it’s bc he killed the adorable Junpei. I could go the happy way and make Junpei live, however there’s another way.

The alive way is the scene from the first season intro, where we see Junpei hanging out with Itadori and his gang.

The other way is while walking to school, Itadori would pass by a cemetery, and see a grave stone with Junpei’s name on it. This is giving justice to the hurtful death of Junpei Yoshino 😭

Anyway, that’s it for now. Have any ideas, pls send suggestions. Anyway, bye 😘 ✌️

[telomeke]

Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @lamonnaie at this post here. Thanks for tagging me! 😍 It was such fun to read your responses; now here are mine. 🥰

do you make your bed?

Never ever. I'm pretty messy, and if I don't watch my hoarding tendencies I will morph into the worst pack rat. But I like a bit of clutter around me; I think it helps my creative side since my output (whether at work, or writing on Tumblr) is always tidy and tidied up to a fault, which can stifle creativity (at least that's what I tell myself! 🤣).

what's your favourite number?

Don't have one. However (even though I like to think I'm not superstitious) if I can I'll try to avoid the number 13 and anything with 4 in it...

what is your job?

Not gonna get too specific, but my work involves design, project management and construction.

if you could go back to school, would you?

I was too stressed out at school to want to repeat the experience. But I wouldn't mind a bit of time travel back to advise my younger self not to take things so seriously! 🤣

can you parallel park?

Yes. Not well, but the car will be fully in the lot eventually. 👍

a job you had that would surprise people?

Some minor modeling jobs when I was younger. Hush! I don't like to talk about it. 🤫 You wouldn't think it to look at me now (me 🤝 Ricky Gervais 😂).

do you think aliens are real?

There are too many planets out there for our little blue marble to be the only habitable one, so yes I do think there are aliens out there. I just don't think we've been visited by them yet though! (Aylin doesn't count. 🤩)

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. Mom taught me how to drive in one... until the day I jammed on the accelerator when she said "Step on it" and I almost up-ended us into a ditch. Then I was sent to driving school instead. 🤣

what's your guilty pleasure?

Ooh. It's this bad boy here:

Sadly I've been over-indulging, so chocolate is now banned from the house for the foreseeable future. I'm still lusting after it though. Other guilty pleasures: I do like a good nightcap, so any (gluten grain-free) alcohol makes me light up – cognac, cabernet, sherry, sake, port... (But I don't always know my limits, so this is now banned too.) And a steamin', stonkin', trashy BL every now and then (bonus if there's a nice muscley actor for me to get all googly-eyed over – shoutout Gap Jakarin!). 😁🥰

tattoos?

I like art and have fanboyed over beautiful tattoos before – but I'm put off by the permanence of them, so I have none myself. Don't like the idea of not being able to change them much once they're inked in, because I will always be wanting to change things up if I were to get one. And no, even for looking at I prefer an uninked bod over an inked one. It takes a lot of work to get a body in shape, and I can't understand someone wanting to cover up the results of their hard work at the gym. 🤷‍♂️

favorite color?

A deep, rich blue most of the time. But when the mood hits, I like a bright, bold red too.

favorite type of music?

My tastes are a bit eclectic, leaning lighter and not challenging. Anything with a strong melodic line will get me hooked. Bonus points if the lyrics can come together with the melody to tell a story, and elevate it even more. So – pop mostly, but I also like R&B, soul, light jazz and the odd heartfelt country ballad or foot-stomper (go Queen Bey! 😍). Also like things with a nostalgic bent (I melt at Karen Carpenter, Seals & Croft, and England Dan & John Ford Coley). And then throw in a couple of show tunes in there for good measure! My YouTube playlist is all over the place – Sheila Majid, New Country, Renaissance, Nunew, Miley Cyrus, Streisand, Li'l Nas X, Ayumu Imazu, The Carpenters, Clean Bandit, so many others, all side-by-side.

do you like puzzles?

I love them, especially word and logic puzzles. I'm always shouting over Pat and Vanna. 🤣

any phobias?

Oddly, not the usual suspects, but I'm a bit phobic about birds. They're just creepy up close, even though I find them fascinating and beautiful with a bit of distance. While the bog-standard creepy-crawlies don't bother me one bit – I'm the one always getting called in to whack the roaches and chase away rodents. I dream of getting a cobalt blue tarantula as a pet (but that's not going to happen for various reasons, alas).

favorite childhood sport?

I wasn't that sporty growing up (classic bookworm) but I did enjoy a bit of soccer when I got to play. But I guess my favorite was probably swimming, though I didn't compete.

do you talk to yourself?

All the time. There's a nonstop monologue going on in my head and I've been known to startle people by accidentally voicing that conversation out loud. So I've learnt not to do it around others. 🤣 And no I'm not hearing disembodied voices; it's just me keeping myself company (plus I find it helps me focus my thoughts).

what movies do you adore?

My all-time favorite: Cinema Paradiso; it really pulls unabashedly at the heartstrings, but then again I'm a sentimental fool and love it all the more for that. That's also why I like Love Actually, especially the scene where the repressed Jamie (Colin Firth) travels to Portugal in order to confess his feelings to Aurélia (Lúcia Moniz), having realized he loves her despite the language barrier, and doggedly learnt Portuguese just to make his declaration – and then he finds out that she, lovelorn and bereft, learnt English just in case ("just in cases") he came back. 💖 And my second favorite is from the other end of the spectrum, actually quite a bit before my time as well: Hello Dolly! 😆 Don't judge... A couple of songs in there are really amazing – Love is Only Love and Just Leave Everything to Me especially (which are not in the stage version) are mindblowingly good. The former is almost pithy in its bare-boned purity, all about looking at love without sentimentality while reprising themes heard earlier on in the musical; the latter has the among the cleverest lyrics set to music I've ever heard:

Streisand is in fine fettle portraying a campier, more youthful incarnation of Dolly. Such a shame it was not better received. The costumes are spectacular too.

coffee or tea?

Coffee (or rather the caffeine it contains) is my drug of choice, and I drink buckets of it. But I like a good cuppa when I'm feeling nostalgic and/or sentimental, because tea is what I drank a lot of growing up – at my gran's there would be a perpetually-replenished, giant kettle of dark, bitterish Oolong on the sideboard for whenever you felt like some (which was often), while at home there was always a big pot of tea on the table in the morning, that would then be set to chill in the refrigerator after breakfast. I would always have an ice-cold milk tea with the papers when I got home from school, and it was my favorite daily ritual.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

A paleontologist – like a lot of kids I loved dinosaurs, and I can still rattle off the names of the more well-known ones (including every one in Jurassic Park 👀). But that got pushed aside for more practical considerations later. Still wish I'd explored my second childhood ambition more though, which was to be a writer/journalist. Maybe that's why I like posting so much on Tumblr! 😍

Onward tagging (too many people as usual, but no pressure to play if you don't want to or can't 🥰): @hughungrybear, @relativelydimensional, @neuroticbookworm, @wen-kexing-apologist, @waitmyturtles, @airenyah, @twig-tea, @solitaryandwandering, @recentadultburnout, @lurkingshan, @grapejuicegay,@bengiyo, @urikawa-miyuki, @pickletrip, @suni-san, @kattahj, @dimplesandfierceeyes, @7nessasaryevils, @imminentinertia, @befuddledcinnamonroll, @pandasmagorica, @nihilisticcondensedmilk,@shortpplfedup, @rokklagio, @thegalwhorants, @brazilian-whalien52, @callipigio, @respectthepetty, @corettaroosa, @colourme-feral, @virtualtadpole, @aroceu, @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas, @delesaria-blog, @dribs-and-drabbles, @inventedfangirling, @jiirotu, @visualtaehyun @happypotato48,@akawrites000, @kleopatras-cat, @dc-alves, @toschistation, @lovelyghostv

I've been tagged by others in various tag games over the past few weeks but have been too busy with work to be able to play. 😭 Not gonna post half-assed replies if I can help it, but then I'm always beset by dread thinking people might assume I'm ignoring them for whatever silly reason. But I just haven't had the time until now.

If you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just kept getting sidetracked by urgent deadlines. (In fact, my drafts folder is full of half-written tag game responses that are too far beyond their use-by date to ever see the light of day. 😮) So to any and all who see this, please accept my apology for not replying to your tags and invites, and if you'd like to play along with this one even if I haven't tagged you directly (and you have the time for it) – please do so! I'd love to read your responses! 😍