#every dash needs a corgi on it

[sirfrogsworth]

Hi Froggy,

I hope you've been well! I wanted to reach out and first say that you inspired me many years ago to rescue a corgi! She was a grump, I think she may have taken her name (Elphaba) too literally. She recently crossed the rainbow bridge, but she was such fun and a joy. I hope our pups are playing together, somewhere peaceful.

I have a question unrelated to stumpy Corgis. I'm a veteran birth doula and an aspiring birth photographer! I've been trying to research cameras, lenses, and all sorts of technical stuff. I'm leaving towards purchasing the new Nikon ZF, because of the purported low-light capabilities.

Lenses are throwing me completely.

Do you have any guidance or resources to help a newbie like myself? Not really looking for an in-depth answer (I know how complicated things can get), but maybe a general push in the right direction?

If you don't want or can't answer, no hard feelings! I enjoy just seeing your posts on my dash and I hope the rest of your year is amazing and calm!-Steph

(continued...)

My budget is pretty flexible, since I am an independent contractor the expense would be tallied towards my taxes. But that being said, maybe $1-3k? I know it's important to invest more into lenses!

Usually, I am in a hospital, and lighting is extremely variable. I would be shooting mostly in low-light before baby is born. During delivery and after there is usually a spotlight or fluorescent lighting. The low lighting is exactly why I was looking at the new ZF, but if you have suggestions on that too I'm happy to hear them!

It's very cramped when the baby is born, most medical and support staff are clustered around the laboring person.

Warning! A lot of birth photos will have baby crowning or blood. It's a messy business, so I don't want to trigger you if you're sensitive to those sorts of images.

I will not be able to be directly next to the laboring parent, more than likely I'll be a few feet away, possibly behind the parents or standing on a stool.

After the baby is born, I'll be able to get closer to both parents and baby!

Here's a portfolio that is close to what I would like to provide (once again TW for blood and crowning):

https://www.sarahginderphotography.com/birth-photography-north-new-jersey

I cannot thank you enough for any help or advice, this whole endeavor is like learning a new language!

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Note from Future Froggie...

I went way overboard on this response, as usual. I have decided I'm going to break it up into 3 parts.

First, an encyclopedia of lens terminology.

Second, a camera and lens buying guide.

Third, practical advice for shooting in cramped rooms with tricky lighting conditions.

While this will be geared towards the original ask, I think this could be helpful to a lot of people. So, let's learn about lenses!

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

Lenses throw everybody, just because there are so many options. It can be overwhelming to look at a picture like this and wonder what will suit you best.

It's a lot of pressure too, because lenses are more important than the camera in a lot of ways. Interchangeable lenses are probably the biggest advantage big cameras have over smartphones these days.

But I think I can help get you up to speed.

The following terms are photospeak you might hear in camera and lens reviews and if you aren't familiar with them, it can make it difficult to figure out what camera and lens to purchase.

I tried to put these in an order that makes sense, but some terms relate to other terms and you may have to read the list twice to make sure you understand how everything mushes together.

Froggie's Encyclopedia of Lens Terms

Lens Mount

Every camera has a specific lens mount. Sony calls theirs the E Mount. Nikon has the F Mount (older) and the Z Mount (mirrorless). So you need to make sure the lens you are looking at is compatible with the mount on your camera.

Mirrorless cameras all upgraded to a mount with a "short flange distance." Going without a mirror allows the lenses to be closer to the sensor.

Long story short... Short flange distance = easier lens design = sharper/lighter lenses.

However, if you want to use older DSLR lenses, there are adapters for Nikon and Canon that allow you to do that.

Aperture

"Aperture" is an opening at the front of the lens. It gets bigger to let in more light or smaller to restrict light.

Wider apertures have a shallower depth of field, causing blurry foregrounds and backgrounds outside the plane of focus. Smaller apertures expand the focus area to keep more stuff from being blurry, but they let in much less light and are difficult to use in dark environments.

Aperture can be a creative decision or it can be a technical decision or it can be a mix of both. If you need a blurry background, use a wider aperture. If you need everything in focus, use a smaller aperture. If you need more light in a dark scene, open it up.

F-stop

"F-stop" is a number representing how big the aperture is. A lower number is a bigger hole. Higher number is a smaller hole. It is helpful to memorize f-stops as they are not easily divisible. Cameras generally allow third stops, half stops, and full stops.

These are all a "full stop" apart.

Stop Down/Open Up

When someone says to "stop down" a lens, they are telling you to make the aperture smaller or use a higher f-stop number.

If they say to "open up" they are saying to make the hole bigger or lower the f-stop number.

Depth of Field (DoF)

Depth of field refers to how much of the photo is in focus. Things in front of the plane of focus will get blurrier and blurrier and things behind the plane of focus will get blurrier and blurrier. A shallow depth of field means only a tiny sliver of your image will be in focus. A deep depth of field means almost everything will be in focus.

The wider the aperture, the shallower the depth of field.

The smaller the aperture, the deeper the depth of field.

Focal Plane or Plane of Focus

The focal plane is the sharpest point within the depth of field. You can imagine an imaginary section of 3D space where things within the depth of field are sharp and things outside are blurry. The farther away from the focal plane, the blurrier they will get. But the focal plane is not always dead center of the depth of field.

Typically, at close distances, things will be sharp half in front of where you focused and half behind where you focused. As things get farther away, that changes to more 1/3 in front and 2/3 behind. The ratio changes even more at greater distances, but the 50-50 and 1/3-2/3 ratios are typically what photographers try to remember.

Shallow Depth of Field

The focal plane is something you need to be very aware of at close distances with a wide aperture—as the depth of field can end up as a tiny sliver.

Let's say you are only a few feet away from a baby and you have the aperture set at f/1.2. You focus on the nearest baby eye, and then you notice its ears and nose are out of focus.

The plane of focus and shallow depth of field are causing this issue. This might be a worthy compromise if you are in a dark room and your ISO is very high and you are worried about too much noise.

However, if you can use a flash or some kind of lighting, you can stop down your lens and increase that depth of field around the focal plane.

Bokeh

Bokeh is the quality of the blurriness. Some people are more obsessed with how good the blurry parts of the photo are more so than the in focus parts. Bokeh is typically judged by "bokeh balls" which are just out-of-focus lights in the background. While I like attractive bokeh balls as much as the next photographer, I will admit this is one of the sillier aspects of photography.

Field of View (FoV)/Angle of View

This is how much stuff you can fit in frame at a given distance. Wide angle lenses can fit more stuff in at a shorter distance and telephoto lenses can fill the frame with stuff that is farther away. The focal length of the lens determines the field of view. The focal length is designated by millimeters and the field of view by degrees.

Focal Length

Technically, this is "the distance between the lens's optical center and the camera's sensor."

In simpler terms, this is how you determine the field of view of a given lens.

A short focal length, like 10mm, will have a wider field of view. You have to be very close to your subject to fill the frame with them.

And a longer focal length, like 500mm, will allow you to fill the frame with your subject from farther distances.

Typically all lenses are designated by their focal length. If someone says, "Hand me the 50" they mean a 50mm lens.

35mm Equivalent

Not every camera has the same sized sensor. So when we talk about lenses, we need a reference to help us understand how a given lens will behave. A 50mm f/2.8 lens does not have the same field of view or depth of field when placed on different sensors. So, we need a standard for comparison.

The standard that is used is the "full frame" sensor which is roughly the same size as a 35mm piece of film.

Anything smaller is considered a "cropped sensor."

Those cropped sensor cameras have a "crop factor"—a simple multiplier that helps you understand how lenses compare. And when you use this multiplier it tells you the "35mm equivalent."

Confused yet? Yeah, sorry, it would be easier if camera manufacturers chose metrics that didn't change depending on the sensor, but this allows them to make their cameras and lenses seem more impressive in the marketing.

There are two main cropped sensors for ILCs. (Interchangeable lens cameras.) APS-C and Micro Four Thirds. They have a "crop factor" of 1.5x and 2x respectively. The Micro 4/3 sensor is half the size of Full Frame, therefore it has a 2x crop factor. And when you apply this crop factor to the aperture and focal length you can determine how a lens will behave.

For example, a 50mm f/2.8 lens on a micro 4/3 sensor would behave the same as a 100mm f/5.6 lens on a full frame—as 100mm is 2x 50mm and f/5.6 is 2 stops above f/2.8.

As you can see, the Micro 4/3 lens is not going to do as well in low light. The iPhone boasts an aperture of f/1.8 on its main lens, but when you figure out the 35mm equivalent, it's more like an f/8 lens.

I went to all the effort to explain this because it demonstrates that larger sensors allow you to work in cramped spaces with less light. If you want to use a 50mm in a hospital room, you probably can on a full frame. But on a Micro 4/3 you might need to be out in the hall because your lens is acting like it is 100mm. So the Zf would be a good choice in this regard.

Camera Shake

This is the bad kind of blurry. Humans are not tripods, so when you are handholding a lens, you need to make sure your shutter speed is fast enough to freeze the action of your image. Camera shake is very easy to control on wide angle lenses and very difficult to manage with telephoto lenses.

Reciprocal Rule

The reciprocal rule states that in order to get sharp photos without blurry camera shake, you must set your shutter speed to 1 over twice the focal length of your lens. So if you have a 100mm lens, you need to set your shutter speed at 1/200 to be safe.

This rule breaks down at a shutter speed of 1/50 if there is anything moving in your image. So if a dog is running or a car is driving by, it will have a motion trail, but at least it won't be due to your shaky hands.

Image Stabilization

This is a feature some lenses have that helps reduce camera shake. Image stabilization can counteract shaky hands and let you get sharp photos with a much slower shutter speed. Newer cameras have sensor stabilization which does the same thing. And if you pair up a stabilized sensor with a stabilized lens, it is almost as effective as using a tripod.

Stabilization is measured in stops. You might hear a lens has 4 stops of stabilization. That means you can handhold the lens and not get camera shake with a shutter speed 4 stops below the reciprocal rule. So for that 100mm lens, that 1/200 becomes roughly 1/12. And if your sensor has 4 stops, you could handhold a shot for nearly a second without any shake.

However, at shutter speeds that slow, if anything in the frame is moving, they will probably have motion blur. But for still life scenes, or maybe a sleeping baby, this can be very handy if you don't have a tripod with you.

If being able to handhold at lower shutter speeds seems important, then you might want to seek out a lens with stabilization and pair it to a camera with sensor stabilization for maximum stable-osity.

Lens Compression

Lens compression is kind of a myth, but I think we still call it compression because it is easier to explain to beginners than optical physics. The lens doesn't really compress anything, it's actually a matter of distance and the aforementioned physics. But I'm going to go with the easy explanation for now.

Lens compression is a phenomenon seen with different focal lengths. If you take a photo with a 500mm lens, the background will seem to compress with the foreground. Thus objects in the background will seem much larger in size.

This also happens with faces.

Wider lenses exaggerate distance. At 10mm, the lens would only be a few inches away from someone's face.

From the lens's point of view, the ears are several times farther away from the lens than the tip of the nose. So the lens is like, "Your ears are really far away! And far away things are really small, right?" So the lens gives us a big nose and small ears and makes us look a bit alien.

But at 100mm, the lens will be several yards away.

From this perspective, the lens feels like your ears and your nose are nearly the same distance away. And the lens is now like, "Things that are the same distance away do not get bigger or smaller." The lens seems to compress or flatten the face, causing a more flattering appearance in the image.

Minimum focus distance

This is sometimes called the working distance. This is how close you can get to your subject while maintaining focus. If you get too close, your camera will just hunt and freak out perpetually until you back up and it can lock on again. This isn't always advertised prominently for lenses, so you need to make sure the lens will be able to focus in the space you plan to use it.

Extension Tubes

Sometimes called "macro extension tubes." These are spacers you put between your camera and lens to decrease the minimum focus distance. In some cases you can even turn a normal lens into a macro lens. These tubes are able to stack and the more you put on, the more into the macro realm you can go. They come in smart and dumb versions. The dumb ones require you to manual focus whereas the smart ones can still use the autofocus system. I highly recommend the smart ones, as they are not too much more expensive.

Lens Imperfections

There are a few imperfections that can plague all lenses and their quality is sometimes judged by how well they mitigate those imperfections. Here are some of those attributes.

Lens Distortion

As lenses get wider, they allow a larger field of view by accepting light rays that are coming from the side of your lens. Let's look at this image again.

Your lens then has to correct those rays and send them to a square, flat sensor. If you look at the 180 degree fisheye, that entire arc has to be flattened and made square. And as good as optical engineering has become, the wider the lens, the harder it is to keep the image from distorting.

This is typically called "barrel distortion." Minor distortion can actually be corrected in editing software. Every lens has correction algorithms. Though sometimes it is best to embrace the distortion, like on a fisheye lens. Make the distortion a feature and not a bug.

Chromatic Aberration

This is the fancy name for color fringing. This is a defect in the lens that cause false colors to contaminate certain objects in a photo. Typically this happens around dark skinny things against a bright background, such as tree branches.

Modern lenses have nearly eliminated this, except for the super cheap models, but if you do end up with fringing, this can be easily corrected in Lightroom or Photoshop. And many lenses even have that correction built in and all you have to do is check a box.

Sharpness

You might not think of sharpness as an optical flaw, but no lens is perfectly sharp. And the quest to make a perfectly sharp lens involves engineering those optical flaws to a minimum.

A "sharp lens" is one with incredible fidelity. Even zoomed in beyond 100%, sharp lenses will show great detail. If you can't get close to the subject and need to crop your photo later, having a sharp lens can make up for the loss in resolution—as you can upscale without much loss in quality. If you plan to make large high quality prints, a sharp lens will help more than tons of megapixels.

That said, if you truly want to get the most out of a high megapixel camera, a sharp lens comes in handy here too. A smartphone may boast in the marketing as having 200 megapixels, but it has a tiny plastic lens. So even though it technically has 200 megapixels on the sensor, the lens will give it the equivalent of maybe 8-10 megapixels worth of detail. People forget, the lens has a resolution as well, and if the lens cannot resolve 200 megapixels, you aren't going to get a 200 megapixel image.

A sharp lens will allow for more detail than higher megapixels. In some cases you need to double or triple the number of pixels to see an increase in detail. Whereas you can put a super sharp lens on a 12 megapixel camera and blow any smartphone out of the water.

And if you put a sharp lens on a 50 megapixel camera, you can almost see into skin pores.

So... sharp = more detail. And more detail gives you greater cropping power for when you can't get close to babies.

Now, I am obligated to say that some photo nerds chase sharpness as if it is some holy grail. They need the sharpest lens so all of their pixels are perfect at 100% zoom even though no one ever looks at an image that close. There are amazing photos that have been blurry. There are amazing photos taken with 50 year old vintage glass. Sharpness is just another tool. If you need to crop. If you need to upscale. If you need to print large... it is a great help. But nearly every lens made for a modern mirrorless camera is "sharp" to some degree.

So, if you need extra sharpness for certain situations, do your research and find a lens that is sharp as can be. But sharpness should be like 8th on the list of priorities.

Soft Lens

A "soft" lens is how a non-sharp lens is referred to. Most modern optics for mirrorless cameras have some degree of sharposity.

Sharpitude.

Sharp...ness.

So you don't need to worry too much about getting a detrimentally soft lens unless you go super duper budget. This is why I usually recommend people skip the "kit lens" unless they absolutely can't afford anything better.

Though sometimes people purposely get vintage lenses because they don't like sharpness and prefer the "character" of older lenses. The imperfections can achieve a different artistic goal. Though this can also be achieved through lens filters... or Vaseline.

I'm looking at you, Barbara Walters.

Sharpness at the Corners

When I read that in my head just now I said it the same way I do "Panic! at the Disco."

Engineers will prioritize sharpness at the center of the lens since that is where most of the interesting stuff tends to be. But also, the light rays at the center tend to be the most parallel as they head to the sensor, so they don't need as much correction. The rays coming from the sides have to be bent and manipulated to correct for distortion, so keeping things sharp at the corners can be a challenge.

Now, knowing that, and knowing how the aperture works, you can infer that when you stop down your lens and make the hole smaller, all of the light rays are constricted to a smaller area. This makes them easier for your lens to deal with, so if a lens has problems with corner sharpness, you can usually stop down to improve this. So if a lens is soft at the corners at f/1.8, you might be able to go to f/2 or f/4 to get better results.

Vignetting

Vignetting is a circular area of darkness at the perimeter of your photo. This is another side effect caused by the same things as soft corners. When correcting those non-parallel light rays, it causes them to travel an ever so slightly farther distance getting to your sensor. And the inverse square law tells us that light becomes dimmer as it travels longer distances.

This is very easy to correct. Usually your camera has a setting to correct vignetting if you are outputting JPEG files. And if you are shooting RAW photos, your editing software should have a check box to fix the vignetting—usually the same one that fixes chromatic aberration. This is usually called "lens correction" in most menus.

Also, same as with corner sharpness, stopping down your lens will usually fix this optically rather than with software algorithms.

Contrast

Contrast is probably the most important attribute to determine lens quality. Good contrast can make a soft lens look good. But lens contrast is not always consistent. It can get better or worse depending on the lighting in your scene.

The best way to test the contrast of a lens is to take a picture of something that is backlit. A person with the sun behind them is a great indicator. If they have no light on them, the person should fall into inky darkness. But if a lens has poor contrast, they will seem like a faded gray.

Focus Breathing

Focus breathing is a phenomenon where your focal length changes depending on how far away your subject is. It's usually not a big deal and most people don't even notice it, but if you ever do video, it can cause a few headaches. Some people can get annoyed because they feel they aren't getting the advertised focal length on the lens they bought. Like, if you get a 300mm lens and it only goes to 250mm for things super far away, that can be annoying.

This video explains it in detail.

Lens Types

Prime Lens

A "prime lens" has a fixed focal length and cannot be zoomed. Typically prime lenses are "faster" (wider max aperture) and sharper. Weirdly they can be very inexpensive or the most expensive. They can be extremely lightweight or weigh a ton. And if you want the sharpest lens possible or the fastest lens possible or both, it will be expensive and heavy.

Having at least one fast prime is usually recommended for any professional photographer.

Zoom Lens

A "zoom lens" allows you to zoom. Obviously. But there are few that go below an aperture of f/2.8, so less light gathering and you sacrifice a bit of sharpness. However, if you don't know how much space you will have to work with, the flexibility of a zoom can be invaluable.

Be warned, while a cheap prime lens can still take fairly good photos, cheap zooms are usually pretty terrible. There are plenty of reasonably priced zoom lenses to choose from, but if the price seems too good to be true, I would trust that intinct.

Wide Angle Lens

A "wide angle lens" is any focal length below 35mm. Wider focal lengths allow you to get more stuff in the photo at shorter distances. A theme you might notice with photography is that every benefit has a compromise or consequence to go with it. Wide angle lenses are wonderful if you are in a cramped space. They also make it easy to keep everything in focus. But as you go wider, distances become exaggerated and barrel distortion becomes more pronounced and harder to correct.

Things that are close to the lens seem huge and things farther away seem tiny. One trick to remember is things in the center of the frame will be less affected by distortion. Something to take into account when taking those smartphone selfies.

If you look, the ball looks huge in frame because it was only a few inches from the lens. Otis was literally smaller in frame than the ball despite only being about 2 feet away. However, he doesn't look all stretchy like the ball because he is centered.

Standard Lens

A "standard" or "normal lens" represents about the same field of view as the human eye. Generally around 40mm to 55mm on a full frame camera (there is some debate on this, but close enough). This is right about where you can take pictures of faces without the unflattering side effects of wide angle.

Telephoto Lens

A "telephoto lens" allows you to stand farther away and still fill the frame with your subject. Usually lenses 200mm and above are considered telephoto. These are often heavy and expensive.

Specialty Lenses

Ultrawide

This is just an extremely wide angle lens. At this point, you just except the massive amounts of distortion and embrace it. These lenses are extremely fun.

Medium Telephoto

These are sometimes called "portrait" lenses as well. They are a little more tele than standard and not quite tele enough for long distance photography. Usually in the 70-200mm range. This is the focal range that allows you to still be close to your subject but you are far enough away to get extra flattering lens compression on faces.

Superzoom Lens

A "superzoom" has an extremely large focal range. It can go from very wide to very telephoto. These are usually not wonderful lenses, although they have improved on mirrorless cameras in recent years. There are a few that could even be used professionally now. But most are just a huge mediocre compromise for vacation pix.

The cheap ones aren't fast, they aren't sharp, and every time you zoom people think your camera is having an erection.

If you are traveling and you have no idea what you might be photographing and carrying around a bunch of lenses is impractical, these have utility. But the larger the focal range, the more mediocre they get. Typically if the zoom range exceeds ~150mm you will start noticing that mediocrity. So a 70-200mm can be fantastic. But an 18-300mm will be very mid.

Macro

A macro lens is any lens that has 1x or more magnification. 1x magnification is a designation that relates the sensor size to how much of the subject fills the frame of your image. For 1x, that ratio should be 1:1.

So if you imagine a quarter lying on top of an image sensor, that's how big the quarter should be in your photo. 2x magnification would be like if a quarter doubled in size and you laid it on top of the image sensor. And so on.

Beware of lenses claiming to be macro and really only having a short working distance. 0.5x is not macro, but is sometimes advertised as so.

Tilt Shift Lens

This is a very niche lens. Most people know of it from the photos that make everyone look like they are in a miniature land.

For every other lens, the focal plane is perpendicular. If you move the camera at an angle, the focal plane will match that movement. So what the tilt shift lens allows you to do is angle the focal plane so your depth of field goes in bonkers directions.

Product photographers love this because you can take a photo of an array of products from a 45 degree angle and keep everything in focus.

This image would be impossible to maintain complete focus of all the objects without a tilt shift lens.

In this example, without tilting the lens, the tip of the multitool is out of focus.

And now you can see the camera hasn't moved, but the lens is at a steeper angle. And you'll also notice the entire tool is in focus.

But wait, there's more! Did you forget about the shifting? Architectual photographers can use the shift function of the lens to correct perspective distortion and keep buildings looking straight.

Will this lens help in the photographing of infants?

Probably not.

But I bet you thought it was cool and are glad I included it.

Recommended Essential Lenses

I didn't know what to call this section. These are just the collection of lenses most photographers will try to acquire as they build out their kit.

Nifty Fifty

This is probably the first lens everyone should buy. Almost every brand has their own version. It is an inexpensive 50mm lens with a sub f/2 aperture. Canon's Nifty Fifty or "Plastic Fantastic" is probably the most famous example. It is only $125 and has an f/1.8 aperture.

This lens may not be the sharpest and it might have a lot of plastic-y, cheap feeling parts, but it is a wonderful way to get started with photography. You can use the wide aperture to experiment with bokeh and shallow depth of field. And the 50mm focal length is probably one of the most versatile. Not too wide, so people look normal, and not too tele, so you aren't a mile away from your subjects.

The Holy Trinity

The "Holy Trinity" is meant to describe the 3 lenses that can handle nearly every photographic task while maintaining professional quality results. Typically these lenses are all f/2.8 and are high quality zoom lenses. The 16-35mm, the 24-70mm, and the 70-200mm.

Most photographers can accomplish just about any task with these lenses in their bag.

Froggie's Holy Hexagon

That said, if I had an unlimited budget I would actually have 6 lenses to cover everything. Beyond the Holy Trinity, I would get a fast prime, an ultrawide, and a macro lens.

A fast prime can see in the dark and has more background blur. The nifty fifty would work great for this.

An ultrawide is one of the most fun lenses you will ever use, even if it distorts everything to a crazy degree and isn't useful very often. It is great for breaking you out of photographic ruts and can really get the creative juices flowing.

And a macro lens is not just useful for making tiny things big. It also allows you to focus at any distance. Sometimes you just need to get a tad bit closer than your other lenses will allow. Macro lenses are also pretty great portrait lenses and can serve multiple functions.

And if anyone is interested in sports or wildlife photos, a nice telephoto lens might be a seventh lens to consider.

I think that is the end of part 1.

I hope this was helpful. And I look forward to posting part 2 soon.

#photography #lenses

[kiss-my-freckle]

– Bennet Burial Grounds –

Bonnie Bennet: Wow, this is wacky! Two shows in a row opening with a weird witchy dream! I really need to lay off the tacos!

Klaus: I think you need to lay off the living! Fangs!

– Bennet Burial Grounds – Six Feet Under –

Bonnie Bennet: This is less than ideal! But at least I can use my magic to get out of this fix! “Though success is mostly a stranger, magic get me out of danger!”

The Magic Coffin of Not Opening: Doesn’t open.

Bonnie Bennet: Poop.

Abby Bennet Wilson: Hi Bonnie! For some reason the spirits of a hundred dead witches are sending you on a useless quest that will put you in danger and give Klaus exactly what he wants! If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were trying to get rid of you!

Bonnie Bennet: Mommy!

– Mystic Falls Home for Immolated Wiccans –

Bonnie Bennet: Hi Elena! Stefan swore me to secrecy and made me promise to never ever tell you where the coffins were, but I’ve been having really bad dreams and last week I learned that bad dreams get better when you don’t ignore them so I figured the best way to get a solid night’s sleep would be to tell you all of our plans!

Elena Gilbert: Great! Hold on, just let me check in to FourSquare!

Elena Gilbert’s FourSquare: Elena Gilbert checked in to The Super Secret Hiding Spot for Klaus’ Daggered Siblings, 123 Fourth Street, Mystic Falls, VA.

Stefan Salvatore: Facepalm.

– The Gilbert House – Research and Revelations –

Elena Gilbert: Hi Bonnie! I asked the Sheriff to hunt down every single Abby Bennet in the country! And since everyone in this town does exactly what I tell them to, she said yes!

Bonnie Bennet: Thanks Elena! Your talent for manipulation came in really useful this week!

Damon Salvatore: You want to talk about manipulation? All I have to do is loook in to someones eeeeys and they’re all like “sure Damon anything you want Damon here’s Abby’s address Damon and her social security number and her driver’s license and her finger prints and her bank accounts and please bite me you’re so handsome and dashing and cool!” So let’s go on a road trip!

Elena Gilbert: Damon, no! Bonnie is going to meet her mother for the first time in fifteen years, and this situation is delicate and gentle and fluffy and you’re rash and sarcastic and cut oh yeah baby your abs are so cut let me see you abs no I mean I’m a good girl and you’re a bad boy and we can’t kiss again that would be wrong!

Bonnie Bennet: o_0

The Lady of the Manor: Wait, Bonnie has a mother? Is Bonnie getting a plot line?

– Chateau Forbes – Painful Plans –

Tyler Lockwood: Hi Caroline! Sorry about almost murdering you last week! But I have a great plan to fix this whole Sire-bond thing!

Caroline Forbes: Great! What are you-

Tyler Lockwood: I invited your vampire-hating, werewolf loathing, torture-obsessed father over for diner! And bondage!

Caroline Forbes: Why does my life always suck?

Neville the Corgi: Something about that boy intrigues me!

– Mystic Grill – Murder Mystery –

Alaric Saltzman: Thanks for having lunch with me Meredith! But I’m really worried about falling into the friend zone, and my penis is really worried about never meeting your lady bits, so maybe next time we could do dinner instead!

Meredith Fell: Okay!

Damon Salvatore: Hi Alaric! Who’s the hot girl?

Alaric Saltzman: That’s Doctor Fell! Her ex says she’s a complete psycho, and you know what that means … she’s gonna be a tiger in the sack!

Damon Salvatore: Speaking of psycho, do you think she might be the kind of girl who would drive a stake into a guy’s chest and leave him laying in the woods?

Alaric Saltzman: Why do you say that?

Damon Salvatore: Oh, no reason.

– Castle Salvatore – Dangerous Games –

Klaus: Hi Stefan! My hybrids have all left town, so I want to know what I have to do to get my family back!

Stefan Salvatore: Well, you could try pissing off and calling again in a few years! And if you make one move, I’ll-

Klaus: Okay, son, this whole “crazy Stefan with nothing to lose” thing has been cute, but let’s be real. You’ve had six months to practice your whole man on fire routine, but I’ve had a thousand years to get really good at causing chaos, mayhem, and pain in extraordinarily creative, terrifying ways. So if you really think you can out bad-guy me? Let’s go.

Stefan Salvatore: …Crap.

– Highway to Hell –

Elena Gilbert: Let’s talk about your mama!

Bonnie Bennet: Let’s talk about your Damon!

Elena Gilbert: Let’s talk about literally anything else ever!

Bonnie Bennet: Was it good?

Elena Gilbert: That doesn’t matter!

Bonnie Bennet: That means it was! He kissed you and you loved it! You want more! You want to hug him! You want to kiss him! You want to have his babies!

Elena Gilbert: Doesn’t this car have some product placement features we could discuss?

The Lady of the Manor: He’s Damon, of courseit was good. Seriously, that girl is dumber than a rock. An especially dumb rock.

Stefan Salvatore (on the phone): Hi guys! Just wanted to make sure you aren’t on your way to do anything stupid!

Elena Gilbert (on the phone): Nope! We’re heading up to the lake house to take a break from all of the crazy!

Bonnie Bennet: Hey, you didn’t leave my mom’s picture and address and social security number laying on your kitchen table by any chance, did you?

Elena Gilbert: Probably not!

– Mystic Grill – Profitable Public Relations –

Klaus (on the phone): Hi Wally! You know what’s great about having the entire Mystic Falls government playing for my team? Whenever Elena comes by and asks for very odd pieces of information, they give me a call! And on a totally unrelated note, I have a little job for you …

Wally the Werepire: Woof!

Neville the Corgi: He also intrigues me!

– Abby’s Home for Retired Wiccans –

Wally the Werepire: Hi Abby! I need you to look into my eyes …

Neville the Corgi: I wanna be a werepire! I’d compel you to give me endless cookies!

Jamie: Hi guys! What can I do for you?

Bonnie Bennet: Nothing nothing at all we were just leaving sorry to bother you got to go goodbye!

Elena Gilbert: Super Elena disappointed face powers activate!

Bonnie Bennet: Abby’s my mom.

Jamie: Another one? Well, you might as well come inside.

Bonnie Bennet: So Jamie, are we related?

Jamie: Nah, I just crash on your mother’s house. She’s really hot, and I’m kind of a cougar hunter.

lmfao! I'm currently working on these episodes now.

[bokutosworld]

liking you is easy | akaashi k.

pairing: akaashi keiji x f!reader word count: 1292 words, fluff! summary: There’s so much to look forward to every wednesday - coffee, dog parks, and the company of a cute boy who made you feel at ease. 

The tips of your fingers are touching, and if either of you moved, you could be holding hands. He’s careful in his actions, calculating his next words, “Maybe you can come see her on your free day?”

I’d like to see you too, he wanted to say.

You like your routines. 

At work, you had developed a habit to get up from your desk and grab a cup of coffee every afternoon. Usually, you’d invite your co-workers to go, suggesting that they give their minds a break and indulge in a quick pick-me up from the café near the dog park which was a few blocks from the office building.  

It’s hitting two birds with one stone, you once said to them. There’s no better way to relax than enjoying an iced latte on a hot afternoon and watching dogs happily play in the park.   

But lately, they noticed that you’ve been inviting them less and less on your coffee runs. Especially on Wednesday afternoons when you’d rush out with an excited gleam in your eyes, humming as you exited the door, and you’d return seeming chipper than before. 

Just like today. 

“Hey, isn’t it about time for your afternoon break?’ Your good friend Misaki inquired as you typed away on your keyboard. The question seemed to fall on deaf ears, and she sighed, standing up and walking over to your desk. But even a tap on your shoulder was ineffective to pull you out of your trance. “You can go on your break now.” 

Finishing the last sentence on the document, you hit save and dragged the cursor to close the window. You look at the clock on your desktop. 2:55 PM. You have just enough time to send the file to your boss and then done. After seeing that your mail went through, you slumped in your chair, closing your eyes and heaving a long sigh. 

When you open them, Misaki’s grin greeted you and you almost bumped your head to hers in surprise. “Aren’t you forgetting something today?” 

“Like what?” 

“It’s Wednesday.”  

As if someone dumped cold water on your head, you immediately got up, your face brightening up as you remembered your midweek activity. Reaching for your phone and wallet, you almost sprinted out of the room, waving a hand and shouting to your friend that you’d be back in an hour. 

---

You don’t know when or how it happened, but coffee and dog parks have become part of your routine every Wednesday afternoon. Not that you’re complaining, especially when it gave you the chance to escape from the mundanity of your everyday work. It also gave you something to look forward to in the mornings, a kind of motivation that you needed as you went about your busy life. 

You doubled your pace, overtaking the people who seemed to be taking their precious time while walking. When you saw the tree-lined path and heard the sound of excited dogs barking, your eyes immediately scanned the vicinity of the park, looking for that familiar silhouette of a black-haired, glasses-wearing male. 

If it weren’t for the boy waving his hands up from his spot, you were sure you’d have missed him. A smile overtakes your features, and you brush away few strands of hair that has fallen on your face before making your way towards him. 

Akaashi Keiji. He was a mystery ever since the day you met him. All you really know about was that every third of the week, he’d come to this park with a dog or two in tow. He’d shared that he was a dog walker but that it was something that he liked to do for he was a natural dog lover. 

“One medium iced white mocha americano for you,” he announced as soon as you reached him. Grabbing the drink, you then settled by the empty space beside him, instantly basking in that comfort that he emitted. 

“Thank you. You didn’t have to buy me the drink though.” You feel yourself relax, nerves loosening as you take a sip of the drink. 

He hums in acknowledgement, “You weren’t here when I arrived, I figured you got held up at work. I had some time, so I bought us coffee from your favorite shop.” A round corgi runs up to Akaashi, looking at him with his bright, round eyes and panting in exhaustion. He softly pats her head and the dog only closes its eyes and moves closer to him, “This is Rui.” 

“Rui,” you repeat her name. The dog seems to have heard you as she now moved from Akaashi to you, standing up on its tiny feet and licking a stripe on your face. “Rui, stop!” The action took you by surprise, nonetheless, it made you giggle, and you feel the stress leaving your system. 

Akaashi smiles at the sight, relieved that the dog has taken a liking to you. There was something oddly familiar to the scene in front of him right now. 

It was similar to that time that he met you. It was also a good, sunny day when he went searching for the golden retriever that had run off. He was worried, too worried that he almost called the assistance of the nearby guards to look for him. It was such a huge relief when he found the dog being cuddled by a beautiful stranger who seemed in need of urgent comfort. Names were then exchanged, troubles and rants were shared in confidence, and since that fateful Wednesday, Akaashi found himself going to the dog park every week in hopes of talking with you. 

He didn’t mind being your confidant. He loved listening to you as you animatedly recounted your stories, and moments like these were something he always looked forward to every week. If only he had the chance to spend time with you more outside Wednesdays. 

“Are you feeling better?” 

You stop patting Rui and she dashes away from the two of you, heading back to play with other dogs in the park. “Yeah, your company makes me feel at ease.” You turn to look at him, “Thanks, Akaashi.” 

It hasn’t been that long since you became his acquaintance – a month and three weeks to be exact – but it’s always surprised you how he knew how to cheer up your dampened spirits even without saying anything. You surmised that his presence was enough – he made you feel at home – and it’d be a lie to say you hadn’t wondered if there was any possibility of him becoming a fixture in your life. 

And as if he could read your mind, Akaashi spoke up, “I’m glad Rui likes you. She’s not really friendly, often too aggressive for a dog her size. But I’m really happy she warmed up to you.” 

You nod, “She is the cutest. Whose dog is she this time? Last week, you brought your cousin’s Siberian Husky, right?” 

“She’s mine.”  

“Ah.” Speechless, that’s what you were. The atmosphere suddenly became hot, your heart pounding twice as fast as you felt his eyes intently on you. You felt there was something behind his words, his actions today, but you were too scared to assume. 

Akaashi sensed your hesitation and assured you, “I’m sure she’d love to play with you more.” 

The tips of your fingers are touching, and if either of you moved, you could be holding hands. He’s careful in his actions, calculating his next words, “Maybe you can come see her on your free day?”

I’d like to see you too, he wanted to say. 

Catching on to his words, you somehow felt relieved and decided to test the waters, “Is this your way of asking me out?” 

His hand encases yours, finally intertwining your fingers as he replies in a sweet voice, “Yes.” 

You like your routines. And you’d gladly welcome Akaashi in the mix if that meant spending days that are peaceful and relaxing like the Wednesdays that you have always looked forward to. 

#hqradiostation #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #akaashi x reader #haikyuucreations #haikyuu fluff #akaashi fluff #akaashi scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi imagines #hq!! akaashi #hq!! #hq x reader

[viscountessevie]

Newton The Emotional Support Crow

Masterlist | My AO3

A/N: Hello everyone! This was spawned from two prompts that the genius @coveredinbees sent me that can be found here! Initially I was going to write them as separate one shots but I found a way to combine them as I was writing it. I hope you all enjoy Domestic Kanthony and Newton being THE BEST BOI to his Mom! TW: Difficult Pregnancy Taglist: @hella-sirius @sassynach (Drop me an ask or DM if you wanna be added)

Kate inspected the last of her dressing wounds. She smiled. Her leg was healing nicely indeed. She was looking out the window of her room when she spotted Anthony letting Newton out to the Gardens. They did this every morning so that he could get a good run in and take care of his Mother Nature duties.

As always Newton let himself run free and disappeared into the extensive grounds of Bridgerton House. This morning, however, was different. Kate squinted out the window trying to discern what on earth was in Newton's mouth.

*

"What on Earth is in your mouth, you blasted dog?" Anthony exclaimed in exasperation when Newton returned ten minutes after his morning pee.

The foreign item in Newton's mouth was rather long and cotton like but its identity concealed by the mud it had been dragged through. Anthony spent the next few minutes playing tug of war with the mischievous corgi.

Finally, he wrestled the item out of Newton's fangs. He held it up to realise it was a pair of pantaloons. By the shiny gemstones lined on the colourful patterns, he recognised them as Kate's pair. Oh no, they were from her favourite Punjabi suit. She was going to kill him.

Not Newton though. Because in his wife's eyes, that dog could do no wrong. Even though Newton had just ruined Kate's favourite pantaloons. Of course, as if ruining those pants wasn't trouble enough, Newton dashes into their home with his muddy paws, barking happily.

"Goddammit Newton! Get back here, we need to wash your paws!" Anthony raises his voice as he runs behind Newton. By the time the dog and Viscount reach Kate's room, Anthony is panting heavily. Kate looks at her husband puzzled as her pup trots over to her. Anthony gives Newton the stink eye. Now he wants to be a good dog and behave in front of Kate. As if reading Anthony's mind, Newton kicks the dried mud off his paws onto the carpet. He makes sure he's clean before jumping into Kate's bed.

She immediately cuddles her favourite dog in the world.

"Who's a good dog, Newton? You are!" She gets a treat from her nightstand and feeds him. She looks over at Anthony with confusion. "Anthony, why do you look so flushed?"

He splattered for a moment, unable to say anything because he was so damn angry with that dog. Finally he points an accusing finger at Newton.

"That dog is the devil's spawn, Kate!" He cries out. She covered Newton's ears immediately. "Don't call him that!" Kate frowns at him. She thought Anthony was being childish. She makes a cute face at Newton and hugs him.

"You can do no wrong, Newton, don't listen to your Father." She told Newton in a soothing voice. Anthony blinked at Kate calling him a dad. He shook his head at that title, scoffing. "Kate, he's a dog! Not a child. I'll be damned if any of my children end up as mischievous as this dog."

"The dog has a name, Anthony. His name is Newton." She said slowly as if he was too stupid to understand. Anthony was frustrated and held up her dirty pantaloons. She gasped,

"What did you do my காற்சட்டை?! (Pants)"

"What...what did I do? Your menace of a dog did this, I was merely trying to help salvage it for you." Anthony snorted. He knew this would happen. And yet, he still found himself surprised when she accused him of ruining her pants.

"I know they are your favourite pair." He said more softly this time, remembering she was still in pain. He probably shouldn't stress her with his petty rivalry with her dog. He goes to sit next to her on the bed. He slightly nudges Newton to make space and the dog has the audacity to growl at him. He sneers back at the dog before focusing his attention on his wife.

He lightly pats her leg, careful not to hurt her. "How are you feeling?"

She shoots him a look that he knew all too well by now. He's not getting off the hook for arguing with her dog. She sighs before silently agreeing to move on to another topic at the moment.

"It's quite alright. Dr. Caufield said I should be able to take the bandages off next week. I'll be good as new." She tried to smile at him cheerily. The truth was she hated being confined to her room the last few months. She was certain was going mad by being cooped up. He smiled fondly at her and kissed her on the head.

"That's good to hear. Now, get all the rest you can get." He shoots her a comforting look before holding up the pants, "I'll have the maids wash your Sar-kattai?" He trails off his sentence with a question, looking over at Kate to see if he pronounced the word right. She couldn't help but giggle at how confused he looked.

"Oh Anthony," she shakes her head, amused. "It's karsatti (காற்சட்டை/pants). Switch around the k and s." She advises him gently.

He just bops his head, "Right, of course." He said as if he knew that all along. However, the light redness of his cheeks gave his embarrassment away.

Once he left the room, she laughed lightly to Newton. "உங்கள் அப்பா தமிழ் பேச முயற்சிக்கும்போது மிகவும் வேடிக்கையானவன்." (Your father is so funny when he tries to speak in Tamil) She looks at her pup and he just barks at her happily. She gives him his daily cuddle session - let’s be honest she needed the cuddling therapy session more than he did. She then lets him run off to the house for the rest of the day.

*

Before Anthony even realised it, the pair of platoons wasn’t the only item Newton would start to bring back from his morning trots around the Bridgerton House Gardens. It was a new thing every day.

Day 2 was a pork pie, Day 3 a candlestick, and Day 4 a Naval General Service Medal. It was driving Anthony absolutely up the wall. It was no longer a matter of Newton trudging in his muddy paws into the house - somehow Kate had trained him to be cleaner - but the question became how and where did Newton acquire these items. One common theme that Anthony had concluded was how routinely Newton would bring these ‘trophies’ to Kate. She always seemed to delight in them.

How the dog had managed to bring the pork pie was an extraordinary feat especially since Anthony had been expecting the dog to drag it in the mud like he did the pantaloons. Yet somehow, this genius mutt had found a container full of pork pie to deliver to his mother. Kate was so happy. Pork pie was her absolute favourite. Anthony swore her smile could melt anyone’s heart. She didn’t think much of Newton being the one to bring it. So she thanked Anthony. He smiled and happily took the credit. It evened the scales for when she accused him of ruining her pants.

The candlestick wasn’t something Kate had particularly enjoyed but rather needed it. When Newton had brought it that morning, they were both equally puzzled by it. But by some grace of God, there was a blackout later that night. Kate lit the candle to help her finish her nightly reading before bed. She kissed Newton on the head and thanked him softly. She seemed to be glowing whenever she was around Newton. Anthony couldn’t help but feel jealous. He knew it was ridiculous. Being envious of a dog. He was a Viscount for God’s sake! He shouldn’t feel inferior to any furred animal. He just wished he could make Kate as happy as the dog did.

*

While Anthony was cracking his head over the mystery of where was Newton getting these things on his morning trots, Kate knew why Newton was doing it. He sensed how sad Kate had been as of late. At first, it was the loneliness of being cooped up at home with Anthony away at work all the time. Then around the middle of the month, she realised her courses were late. She initially chalked it up to stress and waited a few more days. When it became apparent, she was clearly with a child, she was terrified.

Kate should have been happy. She had always wanted children. It was with the man she loved. Even moreso, they had recently confessed their love for each other. This was a lovely new chapter of life to start together with Anthony. Yet she couldn’t feel anything but dread. The thought of telling him and having their lives completely changed forever. Objectively, she knew he would be elated. This would secure his estate for an heir. Legacy aside, she also knew how much he loved his younger siblings and had always been somewhat of a father figure to them. She had no doubt in her mind he would be a wonderful father.

She simply wished they had gotten more time as a newlywed couple. What if he decides he no longer wants to be with her? What if he had changed his mind about how he felt about her? Remembering his offhand comment about not wanting any children of his to be as cheeky as Newton. Her heart sank. Intellectually, she knew it was a throwaway comment based on Anthony’s oddly petty rivalry with Newton but emotionally she was distraught. What if this meant he didn’t want any children with her?

The ‘What Ifs’ swirled through Kate’s mind like poison. This caused her to stay in bed all day, not wanting to even attempt to leave. Her thoughts had trapped her to her bed. She didn’t even feel like participating in life at the moment.

Then it was a week before Newton started bringing these gifts for Kate. He was cuddling with her but was confused as to why his Mother wasn’t cuddling him back. This dog had a sixth sense, Kate swore to Mary and Edwina. Newton immediately knew Kate was sad. He disappeared for a week before the items started showing up. Kate had never been so delighted to have received these things. Yes, the காற்சட்டை (pubjabi suit pants) was ruined but it was very endearing that Newton knew which one was her favourite. The pork pie was absolutely genius, and she had an inkling that Newton had stolen it off the chef in the kitchens. She let Anthony take the credit for that. She knew he needed the win against Newton.

The candle was downright creepy. How on Earth did Newton sense a storm coming that evening that would leave them in a blackout? Allowing the candlestick to become useful. It was just these little things that had been mentioned to pull her out of her negative thoughts.

To Anthony, they had initially seemed like weird unconnected trophies. Now watching Kate react to them with delight, he knew these were things that made her happy and took mental notes. This definitely answered why Newton brought them but where and how he got them still remains to be a mystery.

*

Day 4 of Kate’s Gifts was a Naval General Service Medal. When Newton jumped onto bed with the shiny medal in between his teeth, Kate immediately recognised it and gasped. Anthony just looked at her with confusion.

“I’m assuming you know who that belongs to?” He asked, sitting by her bedside. She nodded, mutely. That’s when he realised her eyes were shining with tears. He goes to cup her face gently, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

She sniffled softly and wiped her eyes. She shook her head, waving it off. “Oh nothing...it’s just this was my dad’s. I thought I had lost it.” She turned to Newton and petted him.

“He found it… நல்ல பையன், நியூட்டன்!” (Good boy, Newton!).

Anthony moved closer to inspect the medal better. “I did not realise the famous Thaman Sharma served in the Royal Navy. I thought you said he was a chef.”

She nodded excitedly, “He served for about 10 years. He could have been in the Royal Navy and still be a chef, Anthony. He wasn’t a one trick pony.” She said dryly before continuing softly, “I know I don’t talk about my father often but he was the greatest dad a girl could ask for.” She sounded slightly embarrassed for not wanting to talk about him. It just brought up a lot of grief and she wanted to avoid the feeling all together at times.

Finding the medal again gave Kate such a sense of relief and happiness. To her, it felt like a sign from her father. As if he was giving her his support of his grandchild coming and that she had nothing to worry about. This reassurance was sealed by the fact that a few months later, Anthony had refashioned the medal into a necklace for her as a birthday gift.

Kate wore it everywhere she went and it gave her confidence in her relationship with Anthony. She finally gathered the courage to tell Anthony that they were expecting. She knew she would start to show around 4 months and had to tell him before her body gave her away. She was 3 months along by then.

It was one of those quiet dinners and she had the chef prepare Anthony’s favourite meal. She wanted him to be buttered up and in a good mood before she broke the news. She smiled up at him from across the table. He beamed back at her. He could sense that she wanted to say something and nodded comfortingly, signalling for her to say whatever she pleased.

“Anthony… I have something to tell you.” She put down her utensils and wrung her hands together nervously. She bit her lip, contemplating if she could back out. She shook her head, convincing herself that it was now or never. She looked up at him and he looked back at her curiously.

“What is it, darling? You can tell me anything.” He said gently. That definitely gave her the push she needed.

“I’m pregnant.” She smiled nervously, still not quite sure how he was going to take it. When she saw how his face lit up and broke into a wide grin, all her fears were immediately displaced. It was so wide with teeth and all, it caught Kate off guard. She can’t remember if she had ever seen Anthony grin with teeth… he has always been a grumpy man since she met him. Maybe with his family.

Before she could analyse his smile further, the man basically ran over to her side of the table and hugged her. His hug came with such velocity, it almost knocked Kate off her chair. He pulled himself back before he could accidentally hurt her. He beamed at her, grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s wonderful news, Kate!” He peppered her face with kisses before bringing her in for a very passionate one. Much too passionate for the dinner table. She pulled away bashfully, eyeing the servants who walked past. She hoped they didn’t see too much. Anthony and her should probably save something just for the bedroom.

“So you’re really happy about this?” She asked, nervously. It was obvious from his reaction, but she needed the confirmation to put her fears at ease. “Kate my love, if that obscene display of affections was not proof enough, I don’t know what to tell you.” He kissed her temple sweetly. She nodded, blushing, embarrassed that she still needed to be assured after all this time.

It seemed that it would be smooth sailing from then on, seeing her worst fears had been put at ease. Unbeknownst to her, Kate was in for a rude awakening for the next 6 months.

***

Years from now, she would never admit this to anyone - her sweet firstborn Edmund especially - but Kate’s first pregnancy was the hardest pregnancy she had ever had to go through. Surprisingly, her first 12 weeks were blissful, hence why she was able to hide it well from Anthony early on. She did have the occasional morning sickness but she was prepared for it. The second and third trimester proved to be the most difficult for Kate. She was constantly nauseous but her body wouldn’t let her vomit. She was always stuck in a limbo state of wanting to vomit but she couldn’t. Her food cravings became more and more outlandish even Anthony could not help her. And everyone knew he would do anything for his wife.

Up until her third trimester, it was a blissful pregnancy despite the horrible physical symptoms along the way. Anthony had showered her with love and affections. He validated her at every turn. Anytime she was feeling insecure, he grabbed her hand and took to the bedroom to show her exactly how much he loved and worshipped her body.

The trouble began when it came to confinement. She felt and looked like a melon. She could barely stay up on her feet - she couldn’t even see them! She hated how pregnancy had rendered her useless. It was even worse when once she had entered the third trimester of her pregnancy, she had to be locked away in the room. Kate knew it was for her own health and safety. It just made her feel trapped.

She had become more frustrated and snapped at Anthony more often. Usually, he would have snapped back. While they did love to bicker, Anthony had found out the hard way not to argue with her while she was hormonal. He was at a loss for words and didn’t quite know what to do. Eventually, the answer came to him in the form of Newton. The dog kept pawing at Kate’s closed door one day when she was too ill to even give Newton his cuddles. Anthony brought Newton out to the Gardens again, let him roam around and find a new item to soothe Kate.

“Go, Newton! Go find something for your Mum.” He instructed but Newton simply just sat and stared at Anthony, tongue stuck out panting and tail waggle cheerily. He gestured to the Gardens, shooing him out.

“Come on, you idiotic dog! Go make your Mum happy.” Anthony said, distressed. It was only when Anthony started guiding Newton out onto the Gardens, the dog got the hint. He immediately dashed off to the bushes and disappeared for a good 10 minutes.

Anthony got tired of waiting and went to check on Kate. He knocked on her door and went in when Kate croaked out a quiet “Come in.”

When Anthony entered the room, he was shocked at how pale Kate was. It truly frightened him. He had barely reconciled with his mortality and had been convinced not to fall in love before Kate to avoid causing her grief. He hadn’t even considered the grief he would have to endure if he lost Kate to childbirth. He immediately rushed to her side and felt up her forehead. She was burning up. He wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead and called for their housekeeper. He instructed her to quickly fetch a cool towel and a bucket of ice cold water for Kate's fever.

Anthony spent the whole day trying to cool off Kate's fever. He prayed to God and whatever other deities to help her heal and keep her safe. It was almost night time when Newton finally came bearing gifts. Or rather a special gift.

Kate's fever had gone down by nightfall and she was sitting up in her bed. Anthony spoon fed her some soup to keep her hydrated. She insisted she was feeling better and that was just a fluke fever. But of course as always, Anthony made a fuss and stayed by her side.

She stared at him adoringly. She analysed his every move to understand how he still loves her even though she looks like a whale now. She knew many men in his position usually cheat on their pregnant wives. Snapping her out of her thoughts, Newton came trotting into the room with a distinctive silver whisk.

It couldn't be! Kate thought to herself. She vaguely recognised it but wasn't sure if it was what she thought it was till Newton jumped onto bed beside her and dropped the whisk on her lap.

Anthony yelped in surprise at Newton's sudden appearance. "Oh you blasted dog! Took you long enough." He said, gruffly. Newton simply whimpered, almost mocking Anthony and snuggled with Kate. Anthony resisted to roll his eyes at the dog.

"Anthony darling, stop fighting with our dog. It's unbecoming of you, honestly."

"Kate dearest, it's not my fault he's an angel with you and a menace with me."

She ignored him and inspected the whisk. TS was engraved on the handle. Thaman Sharma.

"It's his!" She cried out happily. Anthony looked over at his wife a little confused but smiling encouragingly nonetheless. If this random whisk was going to keep her happy, he wasn't going to complain.

"What is it, darling?'

"My father's special whisk." She scooted over and had him sit in bed next to her rather than at her side. She showed him her father's initials. She ran her fingers over the engravement.

"He used this to bake for us all the time. I know it's silly now but he always told us it was made with love. That's why our pastries were always exquisite." She smiled softly, flashes of her childhood coming back to her. There was so much joy in the Sharma household when Thaman Sharma was still alive. A household full of love, warmth and of course, cooking.

Anthony watched her, softening up when he realised what the whisk meant to her. He grinned at her as an idea formed.

"Dearest, if you're up for it, perhaps tomorrow we could bake something from your father's recipe book?"

"Could we really?" Kate lit up at the suggestion. He smiled, happy to have cheered her up.

"Of course we can. As long as you know how to heat the oven."

"Yes, of course. We know you're useless in the kitchen. I'll show you how to do it." She chuckled.

***

The next day, Anthony accompanied Kate to her suite where she had brought over some of her childhood mementos from the Sharma household. She had a trunk dedicated to her father. She sat on the bed, while Anthony helped rummage through for Thaman’s cookbook. Finally, Kate pointed it out to him when she saw the glossy gold cover, embossed with her father’s initials. Anthony passed the book to his wife. They sat on the edge of the bed together and flipped through it, deciding what to bake. They finally decided on chocolate tarts, a childhood favourite of the Sharma girls.

They headed down to the kitchens, Anthony holding onto Kate steadily. He pulled up a chair for her to sit as she read him out the ingredients they needed. With the help of their chef, Anthony found them easily enough. Once he had set everything they needed onto the kitchen counter, they got to work.

Since the chocolate ganache was mainly mixing, Kate was able to do it from her seat while Anthony delegated himself to making the pastry tarts that would hold the chocolate. After multiple attempts of showing Anthony how to heat up the oven, he finally did it himself. Kate clapped at his mini achievement. She was just proud he was no longer completely useless in the kitchen. After that it was smooth sailing. Once the tarts were being baked in the oven, Kate started to mix the ganache. For once she was thankful for her third trimester, she was able to balance her bowl on her bump while she mixed the cream and chocolate together.

Finally an hour later, they were done. The couple examined their handiwork.

“It looks good enough to eat.” Anthony commented. “Yes, looks being the keyword. ‘Does it taste as good as it looks?’ is the real question.” Kate countered, pushing a tart towards Anthony. She wasn’t going to eat it first and harm the baby by accident. Anthony would have to take one for the team.

He gave her a dirty look but took the tart anyway. He gingerly lifts it to taste it. He squeezed his eyes tight, waiting for the foul taste. It never came. He opened his eyes and looked at Kate in mild shock.

"This is actually brilliant, darling!" He moaned into the tart. Kate shot him a disturbing look for that sound. As far as she was concerned, moans were only reserved for her in their private bedchambers. She was about to snatch his tart from him, when he read her mind and went to fed it to her.

She bit into it and gasped. He was right. It was absolutely delightful. Thaman Sharma was really coming through for them. She marvelled at his recipe book. She teared up slightly, thinking about her father. He would have loved to be here, to be a grandfather. She made a promise to herself that day, she would always keep his memory and legacy alive.

She placed her hands on her stomach and whispered to their unborn child, “Once you come out, little one, I am going to tell you all about your brilliant grandfather. We will cook and bake something from his recipe book every week to keep his memory alive, alright?”

Anthony’s face softened overhearing that conversation and piped in, “We shall name it Sharma-Bridgerton Sundays.” He declared. Kate laughed and nodded along as she finished her own tart.

***

It was after Kate had given birth, they finally discovered where Newton would disappear and come bearing gifts after. It was all solved thanks to Baby Edmund. Kate had taken him out to get some fresh air. As they roamed the Gardens, Edmund started to gurgle excitedly at a bush that was suspiciously moving rigorously. She inspected it suspiciously and didn't think much of it until Edmund started to fuss and wanted to be put down. Kate set her baby down and followed him when Edmund started to crawl towards the bushes.

Her eyes widened with surprise at what she found. It all started to click. Where her jewelry had gone missing and even Edmund’s new, shiny rattle a couple days ago. Which was what had attracted her baby to the bushes in the first place. Edmund was laughing and shaking his rattle with delight, playing with Newton. He was just happy to be reunited with his favourite toy. They were both surrounded by a murder of crows who were arranging their shiny, stolen trinkets.

Kate carefully picked up Edmund without disturbing the birds, before he could be accidentally pecked by them. Newton seemed to be very comfortable in their company. It was as if the crows had adopted him. She had to laugh to herself. She bent down to Newton’s eye level and beckoned him forward.

“நீ ஒரு நாய், நியூட்டன். நீ காகம் அல்ல.” You’re a dog, Newton. Not a crow. She giggled at her dog. He just barked at her cheerily. She shrugged, Well he could be both if he wanted to be.

On cue, Anthony was returning from Parliament. He grinned when he found his wife and son idling in the Gardens. He walked over to them to find Kate crouched down, talking to Newton in Tamil. He let her finish her conversation with him before interrupting.

“What were you gossiping about me to him about now, Wife?” He chuckled. “Bold of you to assume we always gossip about you, Husband.” Kate shot back immediately. She stood up to greet Anthony with a kiss. Edmund fussed in Kate’s arms. He held his tiny hands to her father, wanting to be carried by Anthony.

“Aw come here, sweet boy.” Anthony took Edmund from Kate’s arms with ease. As he bounced Edmund in his arms, he looked over to Kate expectedly. “So what did you say?” “I was just teasing him about being a crow instead of a dog.” She chuckled, she gestured to Newton’s new friends. The revelation struck Anthony like lightning. It all made sense now!

“So that’s where he’s been getting the items from! I was honestly starting to believe that dog of yours might have magic powers, Kate.” “He is pretty magical, isn’t he?” She laughed as Newton licked her face while she hugged him.

“Well that solved our mystery.” Anthony said.

"Now I know where to find any missing jewelry." She joked as they started to walk back to their house with Newton and Edmund.

Kate grinned at her happy little family. This past year was a mini adventure that would make a wonderful bedtime story for Edmund a few years down the line. It was definitely an interesting chapter in Kate’s book, she noted to herself as they all walked in their home for dinner.

#Kanthony #Kathony #Kate Sharma #Newton Sharma #newton the corgi #Anthony Bridgerton #Kate x Anthony #Kate Sharma x Anthony Bridgerton #Bridgerton Fanfiction #Bridgerton #TW: Difficult Pregnancy #Sanji Writes Bridgerton

[thespamman24]

So, I know this is really long, but I worked very hard on it and I think that it might just be the best thing that I have ever written, so I would really appreciate if you read it, thanks.

I wish that I was a dog.

If I was a dog then I would sneak into my owners fridge and eat all of their bananas. All of them. I would keep doing it, over and over again. They would have to start keeping their bananas in secure places, but I would always find them. They could put the bananas in a locked safe and store it on the highest shelf, but somehow I would still manage to get those bananas into my big dog mouth. They would probably take me to the vet and ask the vet “Why does our dog keep on eating bananas?” but the vet would have no answer. The bananas didn’t seem to be making me ill, in fact I was more healthy than ever. Despite being a corgi, I had the strength of a rottweiler.

Eventually, they would just stop buying bananas. But that wouldn’t stop me. I would break into neighbors houses and steal their bananas. My hunger for bananas would consume my every thought, my every desire. I would grow and grow until I was twice the size of an English mastiff. Eventually, they would tie me to a stick like one of those naughty dogs but that wouldn’t stop me. I would still manage to break free, and then in a mad rage I would destroy the entirety of my owners furniture. 

My owners would have no choice but to take me to a pound. “It’s such a shame.” they would say “He used to be such a good boy, but then he just got really into bananas for some reason.” But no pound could be able to hold me. I would escape, and run all of the way back to my owners house. I would smash right through my owners door. My owners would scream as I snarled and raged and dashed across their house. Then I would plant myself in the middle of the living room and snarl. 

What could they do? They would rush off to the grocery store and grab as many bananas as they could. But that wouldn’t even be enough to satisfy me. They would have to start getting bananas in from the truckload. Spending thousands of dollars shipping in hundreds of bananas in, just to feed my appetite. I would get bigger and bigger, till I was 5 feet tall. “Surely, he’ll get sick of them. “ they’d say “either that, or he’ll die.” But I wouldn’t die, I would just consume and consume. Eventually, my owners money would start running dry. They would have to move out as my appetite grew. They would have to sell their house, which they worked so hard to afford to a woman named Patty so she could turn it into a thrift store. But I wouldn’t mind, all I wanted was bananas. Eventually, they couldn’t afford a home at all and they had to move to a large junkyard where they slept by snuggling me for warmth. It was in this junkyard that I would spend the entirety of my days, consuming more and more bananas. I would grow and grow till I was 8 feet tall. Then 10 feet. Then 20 feet.

Eventually, my owners would run out of money. “Please,” they would say “please buttons” (buttons would be my name of course) “We can’t get you any more bananas, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” but that would not sway me, and in a fit of rage I would swallow my owners whole. Then, I would leave my home city of San Francisco and make my way South, stopping at grocery stores to get my fill of bananas. I would sleep seldomly, with my only stops being to consume more bananas. I would run and run till I arrived in Costa Rica. 

Oh, what a sight that would be. A group of poor Costa Rican banana farmers toiling away, when suddenly from the horizon appears a 25 foot tall Corgi. “?Que Carajo?!” They would say “!El Perro Es Gigantesco!”

Then I would snarl and they would run away in fright and I would gourge myself on the bananas. I would gorge myself on all of the bananas that Costa Rica had to offer till I was 40 foot tall. I would indulge myself ina  feat of bananas never seen before and then eventually the government would hear of this and they would be enraged! They would send helicopters to shoot me down but I would bat them out of the sky. They would tanks and planes and all sorts of weapons of war but I would squanch them without hesitation. 

Eventually, the american banana companies would get worried, because their sales were dropping, so they would lobby for something to happen. They would obviously be successful, and then for the first time in history the united states government would declare war on a single dog. They would send the finest weapons that the world had to offer, all sorts of fighter jets and helicopters. They would send wave after wave after squandron of men and machines armed to the teeth. They would launch missiles and drop bombs and rain down everything they could on me save for a nuclear bomb. They would throw all of their military might at me, but they would fail. 

 At this point I would have become almost a hundred feet tall. I would tower over buildings and skyscrapers. People all over the world would begin to worship me as a god. The banana workers of Costa Rica who had slaved for so long began to see me as a savior, someone who had come down to rid themself of the oppressive yoke of the banana industry. But, I would be no savior, I would just be one big corgi that wanted bananas.

I would gorge myself on all of the bananas that Costa Rica had to offer, until there was no more. Then, I would move to Nicaragua, then to Honduras, then to Belize,then back to Nicaragua, then to El Salvador, then back to Costa Rica, then to Panama. I would scour my way through all of Latin America, devouring every bananas I saw till I was 150 feet tall and growing.

Eventually, the U.S. government would have no other option then to build a giant robotic mecha corgi.

This mecha corgi would be deployed, with some sort of trained pilot inside and me and this mecha would have the fight of the century- possible even the decade. We would pounce and fight and tear at each others throats- and then- we would lock eyes and something would take over me. Something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. My owners had previously neutered me but all of my banana eating had them grow back. Next you knew, the mecha would become pregnant with my son- a half corgi- half mecha corgi. A cycorg, if you will. 

But, I would not be around to see his birth, because I left my mecha girlfriend. I loved her, but I loved bananas more and so I left. I journeyed to Colombia and Venezuela and all throughout South America, always on the hunt for bananas, no amount of that sweet yellow fruit could ever quinch my eternal hunger.

The U.S. government would send more mechs after me, and I had some close encounters but, whenever things got to bad I would run. Eventually, things got so serious that I had to dog paddle my way to Africa. Thankfully, I managed to end up in Cote D’Iviore which was a country that the U.S. didn’t have any treaty or whatever with. I was safe. I gouged myself on bananas for many years sometimes I would think about that one true love I had, but my bananas kept me destracted. I didn’t even know that I had a son, or that he was growing up in a  secure facility in Nevada.

I grew and grew. At first, the government tried to stop me, but then they stopped. Eventually, they started to like me, they would bring me bananas and in return I increased tourism by 2,000%. In fact, I actually helped the economy of Cote D’Iviore. This allowed for many schools and hospitals to be buildt, massive reforms were passed in the government, infrastructure improved massively. Eventually, Cote D’Iviore became one of the most successful countries in the world and all it took was one giant dog. 

People would come from all over the world to see me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was bananas. When I wasn’t eating bananas I was sleeping or killing people who were trying to kill me. Sometimes I would eat them, but people didn’t taste as good as bananas.

Cote D’Iviore started to run out of bananas so they had to ask Ghana and Cameroon for help in exchange for economy. This eventually lead to all three countries becoming one country, and this country became a prosperous nation. I quickly became the national animal of this nation. I was on the state flag and all of the coinage. Massive statues were buildt of me and the countries name was Terre De Chien Geant (land of the big dog). I payed no notion to this. After all, I was a dog and I didn’t even understand politics. All I understand was bananas. And now, the country was working very hard to get me as much bananas as I could eat because the tourism money was huge. I feasted on bananas until I became 400 feet tall. 

However, across the sea storm clouds were brewing. The United States government had no interest in killing me anymore. However, my Cycorg son was a rarity and of great interest to them. They figured that they could use him as a weapon to take on foreign threats. They got people to pilot him. I don’t know how it worked but the Cycorg needed a pilot.

Many years passed. Eventually, I grew till I was over a thousand feet tall. My Cycorg son did the same. 

My Cycorg son gets deployed on his first mission, destroying a military base in Libya. However, the U.S. government was foolish in thinking that they could control him. He turns away from the military base and instead goes in search of me. The pilot that is inside my Cycorg son is helpless to control him as he moves through Africa in search of me.

He eventually catches on the hiff of corgi and bananas and follows it through the Sahara desert till he arrives at the Northern tip of the country I live in. There he travels East, till he finds me. I’m laying in the field I usually am in when I hear the sound of extremely large paw prints and cock my giant corgi head. Then, I meet his gaze. He growls at me. I am the man who abandoned him. His worst enemy. He leaps forward and pounces on me.

Needless to say, I kick my dumb furry sons butt. I stand over him, my paw pressed on his metal exoskeleton. Then I sniff him and I realize who he is. And in that moment, I realize I was fighting my son! I have a son! I never even knew! But… I don’t care. All I care for is bananas. Why? I do not know. All I know is that I crave bananas, and I am a two thousand foot tall corgi so no one gets to challenge my authority.

I pick him up by the ear, and in a feat of corgi strength I carry him to the ocean and drop him in.

My son paddles away, ashamed.

 Then the Romulans show up. “Oh shit! It’s the Romulans!” Says everyone.Then the Romulans leave because the only reason why they were there was because they got their directions wrong. 

 Anyways, I go back to my usual resting place and my son, ashamed, dog paddles away. But, this feeling of shame quickly turns to anger and this anger quickly turns to rage. And so, when the U.S. helicopters show up to collect him he swats them down. My Cycorg son then goes berserk. He swims over till he reaches Florida. There, he goes ona  mad rampage.

First he arrives at Orlando, where he rips through the city. He reaches Disney World and Mickeys and Snow Whites turn to bloody pulp within his jaws. He journeys to Miami, and to Jacksonvill, and to Tampa Bay, and to Inglis. All fall before his wrath. Millions of people are slaughtered and billions of dollars are lost in property damage and thousands of cheese shops are destroyed. Mozzarella and blood lines the streets of multiple major metropolitan areas, and it’s all because of one kaiju cyborg corgi.

 The U.S. government throw everything they can at my Cycorg son, but they do not succeed. Eventually, they realize the only way to defeat him is me. But, how do they get me to come over to the U.S? First, they try a massive dog whistle. This does not work. Then, they figure it out.

I am chilling out in my field. When, suddenly in the sky I see the most beautiful sight that I have ever seen. A giant cat, made out of bananas. I leap up and run after it. Truly, this must be the most delicious thing ever created.

I dog paddle after it till I reach the coast of Florida, only to then realize that it was not real, but actually just one of those Macy's thanksgiving day parade floats. This enrages me immensely. I am about to go back to my home when suddenly I am tackled from behind. It is my Cycorg son! I don’t even have time to react before my Cycorg son chomps me directly in the paw. We tussle, and I could easily win but he has grown stronger and one of my paws is hurt. 

We fight and fight, our fight taking us out of Florida, to Georgia, and then to South Carolina. Eventually, after 78 days I stand over my son. I have won. But, right before I am about to make the killing blow, I hesitate. This is my son after all. And, in that moment of hesitation my furry son does a hecking chomp. I fall off a cliff and into the Atlantic. 

 I float through the Ocean, till I eventually reach the South pole. There, the water around me freezes and I am trapped in an iceberg, still alive.

 Meanwhile, my furry son has won. He howls victoriously. And then continues his rampage, going north. He knocks over the Empire State Building and shits on the Washington memorial. He humps the leg of the statue of liberty and pees on the white house. He demolishes the Sears tower and destroys Cleveland, Ohio. All fall before his wrath. All is helpless before my massive Cycorg son. Millions upon millions are killed. The U.S. lies in ruins. Meanwhile, I am literally chilling inside a block of ice.

My Cycorg son continues West, and some strange desire compels him to go to Los Angeles. He arrives there and moves towards Hollywood. There, right in front of the Hollywood sign. He digs. He digs and he digs till he reaches an underground chamber. There, in that chamber he finds Al Capone, the inventor of movies. 

Meanwhile, at this very moment I am being discovered by scientists. They find my body and put it on a plane. They then take my body and put in a giant truck. This truck is currently carrying me to a museum, which just happens to be in San Francisco, the place where this all started.

 My son finds the body of Al Capone, spread on a massive movie projector. He then picks him up in his jaws and bounds out of the chamber with Al Capone in tow. However, this ends up causing The Job Apocalypse, where people become abstract representations of their jobs. Lawyers turn into law books, doctors turn into medicine, and politicians turn into the flags of countries that they represent. And, the driver of the truck that I am on, turns into a truck. This leads to the truck I am on having a massive truck sticking out of the driver's seat, with one of it’s wheels on it’s pedal. This causes the truck to keep on moving forward, towards its destination of San Francisco, with me in tow.

But, my Cycorg son doesn’t have a job, so he is unaffected. He takes Al Capone's form and bounds up North. Eventually, he makes it to San Francisco, where he lays down Al Capone and lays down beside him. He then falls asleep, Al Capone right beside him.

Meanwhile, the truck I am in enters San Francisco from the East while my son sleeps soundly by the side of Al Capone.

Then, in the middle of the night comes Patty. Patty was there when it all began. She was the one my owners sold their house to, and thanks to that she turned the house into a thrift store. So, when The Job Apocalypse came she turned into a whole bunch of knick knacks in the shape of a human form. Patty makes her way towards my son and Al Capone. Then she sticks out what could be called an arm, and wacks Al Capone. But then, right as she does it she gets run over by the truck that is carrying me.

Or, in other words: knick knack Patty wacks EVA dog's Al Capone, his old man's come rolling home.

#long post #tw dog #tw death #tw blood #tw violence #writing #short story #fiction #humor #joke #jokes

[shuadotcom]

The One | JJK

∎ Summary: You and Jungkook decide to bring a dog into your home, but first you have to find the perfect one. ∎ Pairing: Jungkook x Gender Neutral!Reader ∎ Genre: Fluff, slice of life, established relationship, idolverse ∎ Rating: G ∎ Warnings: None ∎ Word Count: 1.9k ∎ A/N: For btsholidaybingo | Bingo Square: Jeon Jungkook

"Remember, we're only going for one dog."

"But what if a kitten falls in love with me?"

"No."

"Okay, but what if there’s like, two dogs that are bonded? We can’t just separate them, you know."

"Then we won’t get either."

"But what if-”

"I said no, Koo. No to any other possible scenarios you can think of. Do you want to do this or not?" The two of you have a staredown over the top of the car before Jungkook lets out a long, dramatic sigh, and you climb into the car.

You’ve recently taken the next step in your three-year relationship by moving in together. Jimin was unsurprisingly distraught and clung to Jungkook’s legs as he and the rest of the guys moved his things from the dorm. Of course, you had only moved a good ten minutes away from them in the first place.

Now that you’re accustomed to living and existing every night and day around each other, you agreed your home is missing the presence of a fluffy animal. Well, Jungkook has decided rather, and you gave in to his pouting and begging. Since he’s no longer sharing space with Yeontan, he wants a dog of his own around; thus, the decision to bring home a dog was made.

Neither of you has any idea what type of dog you want, but you agree that you’ll go and see which one stands out. According to Jungkook, you don’t pick a dog; a dog picks you. As someone who’s never had any pet other than hamsters, you’re inclined to believe him. As nervous as you are to be a first-time dog owner, the idea of being a cute, domestic couple raising a dog together is exciting.

The ride to the local shelter is only about ten minutes, and Jungkook is throwing his door open and bounding out of the car as soon as he parks. You follow your exuberant boyfriend inside at a much more leisurely pace. It doesn’t surprise you when you walk in and see the first thing he’s doing is leaning towards a cage full of kittens, cooing at them and letting them nip at his fingertips.

"Jungkook..." you say in a warning tone. He turns towards you, looking guilty.

"I just wanted to look!" He pouts. Once you’re at his side and you’ve greeted a few of the kittens yourself, you follow a volunteer to the wing of the shelter where the dogs are.

Jungkook is immediately drawn to a cage of golden retrievers. He leans over, sticking his fingers through the bars, which makes all of the tiny dogs run over to smell and lick him. You smile at him as giggles come out of his mouth. He soon moves on to a large, older looking pitbull and is whispering greetings to it as it pants excitedly. You leave him there to wander around, eyeing all of the cages, and can’t help but feel overwhelmed by all of the dogs around you, attempting to catch your gaze and silently begging you to take them home.

Your eyes continue to scan the signs hanging from the front of each cage, noting all of the breeds and their names.

A shih tzu, a maltese, a poodle, and a-

“Oh, hello, babies!” A cage with five corgi puppies yipping for your attention catches your attention the most.

As you make your way to the cage, the group of dogs notice and clamor over each other, their small noses raised in the air to try and catch a whiff of you. You smile at them and stick your hand near, letting them sniff you. They all have identical brown eyes and the classic corgi golden brown and white fur, which, while they’re cute, none stand out to you.

Pulling your hand back, you dig a bottle of hand sanitizer from your bag, ready to ask Jungkook if he’s made a decision when something in the corner of the corgi cage catches your attention.

Its eyes are what draw you in. Those gorgeous brown eyes are much lighter and wider than the rest of the liter. You hadn't noticed this one earlier, but looking at it now, you see it’s the only one with all-white fur. It’s the quietest puppy, opting to hang towards the back but still flashing you that wide dog smile. It’s excited, with the way it’s small, round body seems to be vibrating. Something in your gut told you this was the one.

"Koo! Jungkook, I found our dog!" Jungkook leaves the pug he’s talking to so he can come over and join you. He looks at the corgis, his eyes immediately finding the pup in question in no time. After inspecting the dog for a few seconds, he nods.

"That’s definitely the one. Stay here, and I'll go tell someone we've made our choice." Jungkook leans over and plants a kiss on your forehead before he leaves. You get close to the cage again, angling your fingers towards the quiet pup, and immediately it wobbles over, squeezing past the others to get to you. Your heart wells as you watch it give you a couple of licks, then lets out a tiny yip.

Jungkook comes back just as quickly as he had left with an older man in a shelter volunteer shirt. He points out the puppy you want, and the man unlocks the cage to reach around the hyper puppies for yours. He puts the puppy in your waiting hands, and you and Jungkook follow him out to the main part of the shelter. As you go, the man explains that your pup is a boy and that he and his siblings were found in a box in a park by someone who brought them in.

Jungkook fills a basket with toys, food, and treats from the on-site pet shop while the fluff ball in your arms watches him go. He stays quiet as Jungkook tries a few collars on him before settling for a bright blue one and claiming it as perfect.

Once everything is paid for and you’re on your way back home, he stands up in your lap and stretches his body out, examining Jungkook's car as he does.

"Please don't pee on the seats, little guy," Jungkook begs him playfully. As if he understands, the dog gives one small bark in response and moves to balance on your thigh so he can look out the window. "We need a name for him, you know."

"I know. Any ideas?"

"Jungkook Junior?"

"We are not calling our dog Jungkook Junior."

"Y/n Junior?" He receives a pointed look in reaction to that suggestion. "Well, what do you think we should name him then?" You look down at the dog in your lap, and he looks back, almost in curiosity.

"Hmm...how do you think Jimin would feel if we named him Mochi?" Upon hearing it, the puppy barks. "Is that a yes? You like the name?" He barks again.

Jungkook lets out a laugh and turns to look at the puppy once the car is parked and you’re back home. "So this is our little Mochi, huh? I think it fits." He reaches over and scratches under the pup's chin, his tongue lolling out and his eyes closing. You and Jungkook share a look similar to one proud parents would share about their successful children.

After all the supplies are carried upstairs to your apartment, you and Jungkook put all of the things away, taking turns keeping a watchful eye on him as Mochi explores and sniffs anything in the apartment he can get to. Jungkook wastes no time in calling everyone over to meet him.

"His name is Mochi?!” is the first thing out of Jimin’s mouth when you introduce him. He looks as if he’s so touched he could burst into tears. As soon as the boys walk in, Mochi is smelling and circling them, vying for attention from them all.

"For a new dog, he’s not very shy," Yoongi says when he sits down on the couch, and Mochi immediately dashes over, begging to be put into his lap.

A coo rings out through the room from everyone as the eight of you watch as he sprawls out on Yoongi’s lap, enjoying the belly rubs he offers him.

The boys spend the rest of the evening playing with the puppy. They talk to him as if he can understand, try and fail to teach him to sit, and unsurprisingly, Hoseok ends up rolling around on the floor with him.

He has his first almost accident during dinner, whining and pacing while everyone is eating, catching the room’s attention.

“He has to pee!” Taehyung warns. Jungkook shoots up from the couch, nearly knocking his pizza over in the process, and quickly opens the patio door, carrying Mochi out to the patch of turf he’d laid out earlier. Quickly after, he trots back inside and plops onto his doggy bed by the couch, eliciting various “awws” from all of you.

After dinner, everyone helps you and Jungkook clean up and play with Mochi a bit more before calling it a night. Before leaving, Hoseok promises he'll be back in the morning to walk his "new best friend." This causes Seokjin to scoff and argue that Mochi was his new best friend and that he'll be back in the morning. Jimin puts his two cents in about how Mochi is obviously his best friend since he’s named after him. Namjoon tries to use the fact that he secretly fed Mochi under the table as a way of winning the debate that they’re best friends, but it only earns him a whack on the arm from you.

Jungkook manages to usher his bickering friends out, telling them whoever gets to your apartment first in the morning could walk the dog. Of course, this will lead to chaos in the morning, but you and Jungkook will worry about it then.

As the two of you make your way down the long hall to your bedroom, you realize Mochi is still sitting at the end of the hallway, looking as if he’s contemplating whether or not to follow along.

Jungkook turns around and tilts his head. "Well, come on then!" The puppy lets out a chipper bark and bounds down the hallway as quick as his small legs allow him. He circles your feet excitedly, then busies himself with observing the new room as you get ready for bed.

When you’re finally snuggled up to Jungkook with the lights off you, take a look at the puppy as he stretches in the middle of the room.

"Can we bring him in the bed? Please?”

"Hmm...I don't know..." Jungkook taps his chin, pretending to think before calling the dog's name. He didn’t expect him to respond, having only had a name for a day, but to his surprise, Mochi barks and runs over to the bed. You watch him attempt to climb and jump onto the king-sized bed until Jungkook leans down and scoops him up. Mochi immediately turns himself in a circle and plops down on the bed between you two. "He's an extremely smart dog," Jungkook murmurs as he lets a yawn slip.

"He is. You know, I think you were right about letting the dog choose us."

"I know. Aren't I always right?" You reach over and swat his shoulder.

"Oh, hush, and go to sleep." He lets out a laugh before leaning over to kiss you.

"Love you, babe."

"Love you, Koo. Love you, Mochi." Right on cue, the dog lets out a loud yawn and snuggles closer to you. You smile and run your fingers through his soft fur before dozing off with your boys.

#btsholidaybingo #btsnoonanet #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #magicshopnet #bangtanuniversity #thebtsficarchive #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fluff #jeongguk x reader #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fanfic #bangtanhq #bangtanstation #thebtswritersclub #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #ba-dum queued up

[edendaphne]

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 16

New chapter of "Discordant Sonata"! (Feat. adorable art by @corgi-likes-chat​!) Here’s a cropped preview:

>>Read it here on Ao3<< >>Read it here on Wattpad<<

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

CHAPTER 16: LEGATO

Legato: “tied together”; indicates that musical notes are to be connected, so they are played (or sung) smoothly

(Mood Music: Mamma Mia (Swing version) - Opa Tsupa)

[One month later]

“Alright, I’m gonna take the side door and rush upstairs to steal the elven artifact. You got these guys?”

Chat rubbed his hands together, then picked up his controller, adjusting his grip. “Oh baby, I'm itching to try out this new greatsword.”

Marinette nudged him with her elbow. “Don’t aggro too many mobs. Space ‘em out.”

“Did you forget I can stun?" he poked her back.

"No, but you often do,” she quipped. “One sec, buff refresh."

"Ouch, my masculinity! Too bad your regen got nerfed with the last patch.”

"I’ll manage; I bought some extra potions.” She shrugged. “Remember not to blow your rage too early this time. We don't want to pull out prematurely!"

Chat gave her an incredulous look, as if she’d grown a second head.

Marinette winked at him. "I've just seen how you handle that greatsword of yours."

Chat howled with laughter. “Double dagger spec? More like double entendre spec!” He squeezed her shoulder. "You've come so far.”

“Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” she replied.

He sniffled and dramatically wiped away a fake tear. “I'm so proud of you."

Marinette giggled and settled herself into a comfortable position, crossing her legs on the floor. Her fingers gripped her controller tightly in anticipation. “Alright, Minou. It’s go time.”

---

Several tense minutes of yelling and frantic button-mashing later, Chat wailed in agony as he plopped backwards, “NOOOO!!! We were so close!!”

Marinette turned around, frowning. “Dude! Why’d you have to go off on your own into that side corridor?! You should’ve known it would be full of stealth enemies!”

Chat’s arms flapped around as he sputtered incredulously. “Y’know what?? We shouldn’t even be here! You’re the one who wanted to two-man a four-person dungeon!”

“We would’ve succeeded if only you’d stuck to the plan, Mr. Curious Cat!”

Chat paused to shoot her a petulant glare. “Well, I guess that means you won’t be needing this epic leather armor you’ve totally been looking for all week, that I just happened to loot from said forbidden corridor! I bet it’ll fetch a high price at the auction house!”

Marinette let out an offended gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?”

“Give it!!” she yelped as she reached across for his controller.

“Nuh-uh! Nope, too late! You should’ve been nicer to me when you had the chance!” He clambered away, but she chased after him.

“Get back here!” she cried, catching him by the waist.

Chat continued to taunt her, holding the controller up high. “Gee, I wonder what kind of trinket I could buy with all the gold I get for this,” he remarked, tapping his finger against his chin.

Marinette grabbed one of the throw pillows from the chaise and thwacked it against him.

“I’m gonna tell Ladybug about your evil deeds!” she threatened.

Chat grabbed another pillow with his free arm and swatted her back with a laugh. “She won’t believe you! I’m her beloved partner, after all!”

“Wanna bet?”

Before he could reply, Marinette tackled him to the ground, grabbing at his belt to hold him in place. She reached for the controller, but his arm was still too long. She adjusted her grip at his side to reposition herself.

Chat squirmed at her touch and yelped, “ACK!! That tickles!”

Marinette’s eyes widened and she looked up at him, a devilish smirk slowly slithering across her face. She crawled on top of him, securing her legs on either side of his hips. And with that, her fingers went to work, mercilessly tickling his ribs and obliques.

Chat screeched and wiggled, desperately trying to scoot away from but failing every time.

“Surrender!” she commanded, continuing her onslaught.

He answered rebelliously between cackles, “Never! But I may scream.”

He thrashed and tried to squirm away, but she had him right where she wanted him. Chat laughed so hard that his eyes began to water, and he begged for mercy in between belly laughs.

Finally sensing her opening, Marinette got ahold of the controller, yanking it away from his lowered arm.

“AHA!” she cried, lifting her arm triumphantly.

Chat’s eyes grew wide and his mouth twisted into an indignant pout, then he used his enhanced strength to lift his hips off the ground, reversing their position so she was the one being pinned.

Marinette gasped in horror and outrage. “CHEATER!! You’re using your super strength!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m always this strong,” he quipped back, flexing his arm dramatically. He adjusted his position on top and tried plucking the controller away from her.

Despite being a bit disoriented now that she was on the bottom, Marinette maintained a death grip on the controller.

Chat grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head and she grunted as she struggled. “Oh, how the tables have turned,” he purred as he trapped them both under a single hand. His other hand trailed down to her waist, poking experimentally, then extending his claws from his fingertips to amplify the sensation.

Marinette writhed and wriggled under his touch, shrieking and giggling uncontrollably.

“Do you yield?” he demanded impishly as he stared down at her flushed face a mere few inches away.

“NEVER!!” she replied tenaciously, defiantly puffing out her chest, as if straightening out her posture would somehow intimidate him, or grant her extra resilience.

“You are soooooo stubborn, Ma Minette,” he chided playfully, squeezing her sides hard and making her squeal some more. Marinette twisted and kicked vigorously, trying to escape, but to no avail.

Their antics were interrupted by a descending musical chime and agonized screams erupting from the laptop screen, which was propped on top of Marinette’s antique chest for easier viewing. The pair stopped, their heads whipping towards the source of the sound.

Their respawned characters had died while they were occupied with their tickle fight.

The pair looked back at each other, then busted into hysterical guffaws.

As they laughed and panted, Chat couldn’t help but notice the way Marinette looked with her long dark hair fanned out on the ground, her tiny freckles more prominent against her reddened cheeks. She really had become quite a stunning young woman after all these years. Despite spending their teenage years together, his attention had always been elsewhere, and he’d never really paid attention to how different she looked now, versus when they first met.

She seemed to notice him staring and smiled, and the rosiness of her cheeks seemed to intensify. Probably from the exertion, he figured. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel his own face beginning to feel hot under her gaze.

She looked like she was about to say something, but as she opened her mouth, a new sound blasted across the room; it was Marinette’s mobile phone.

He felt her twitch underneath him, and for the first time, they both realized the position they’d put themselves in. Anyone who walked in on them at this moment would surely have... questions.

Face feeling red hot at this point, Chat released Marinette’s wrists and got off of her so she could get up and check her phone. Giving him one last cheeky smirk, she stood up to see what the commotion was all about.

She gasped as she checked the screen. “Oh my goodness! I’d totally forgotten, I have a study group in fifteen minutes! I have to get ready!” She turned off the alarm and pocketed her phone, then scrambled to her desk to get her school materials prepped.

Chat’s ears twitched in response. “Oh! It totally slipped my mind as well. Good thing you set a calendar alarm. Otherwise, your classmates would’ve walked in to Chat Noir just casually playing video games at your house.”

Marinette darted to her full-length mirror to look herself over, then dashed over to her vanity to grab her hairbrush.

“Do I look alright?” she asked as she fixed her hair.

“My darling, you look positively radiant,” Chat replied theatrically, taking a seat on the chaise.

“Is my outfit okay?” she continued harriedly. “Should I change? Is my shirt wrinkled? Do these shorts make me look short? Is my hair sticking up in the back?”

Chat grinned at how flustered she was. “Helen of Troy would pale next to your indescribable magnificence, Mademoiselle.”

“Chat,” she jokingly reprimanded, but failed at containing an upwards twitch of her lips.

He shrugged feebly. “You look totally fine. But why? It’s just your classmates.”

Marinette hesitated. “Well… Just… no reason!”

She received a skeptical eyebrow in reply. He knew her better than that (not that she was very good at hiding her feelings in the first place). Giving up any further pretense, her posture drooped in response.

“Alright, alright, the truth,” she conceded with a resigned sigh.

Chat leaned forward imperceptibly, raising his eyebrows in silent query.

“My old crush is gonna be there–”

Chat gasped loudly despite himself.

“–And I wanna look nice!” she continued. “But not like, sizzling ‘I’m tryin’ to steal you from your girlfriend’ kinda hot, ya know? I’m just trying to get past him. I wanna move on. I wanna prove to myself that I’m doing okay. He's still one of my best friends. I need to show that I'm happy for him.” Then she added with a weak smile, “Plus, Alya knows what my wrestle-hair looks like, so I'd have to answer some awkward questions if I don’t look at least somewhat put together.”

Chat closed his mouth, which he hadn’t realized was in “fish gape” mode until just then. He looked down towards the floor, now understanding why she would feel so apprehensive.

Marinette was doing her best. He felt his heart swell with affection and sympathy. He had to help somehow; he always tried to be a source of extra confidence whenever she needed to face challenges. It was the least he could do for her.

Chat stood up, cleared his throat and approached her desk, swishing his tail back and forth as he pondered her words.

“I know exactly what you need,” he offered with an air of authority.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow. “You do?”

He retrieved something from her vanity and, with a flourish, he presented a tube of shiny pink lip gloss. “Ta-da! For the ‘I still look cuter than everyone in the room without even trying’ look.”

Marinette accepted the tube of lip gloss, and she couldn’t help but giggle at his sweetness and sincerity. “Sounds good to me! Thanks!” As she looked into the mirror and applied the lip gloss, she continued, “Sorry to kick you out of the house. Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Chat waved it off. “Of course, don’t worry! I have somewhere I need to be this afternoon anyway, so take your time.”

“Alright. I’ll text you when we’re done, but it shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours.”

“Okey dokey!” He stood behind her and gave her a quick parting squeeze, then walked over to the floor hatch to exit her room, giving her one last wave. “Later, Maribug!”

Marinette smiled after him as he descended the stairs, amused as always at his unintentionally accurate nickname. If only she could tell him.

Someday, she told herself. Someday there will be no more secrets.

She dearly hoped that that day could come soon.

-----

(Mood Music: You Don't See Me - Safetysuit)

A short while later, Nino and Alya arrived together at the Dupain-Cheng residence. At the door, Marinette greeted them with a smile and invited them inside.

From across the street, a certain tall, blonde, bespectacled figure peeked from behind a tree, deciding to wait a few minutes before making his own entrance.

“It looks like your girlfriend was able to tame her Wrestlemania hair after all,” Plagg whispered from inside Adrien’s pocket.

Adrien poked him gently with his finger. “Hush, she’s not my girlfriend,” he admonished.

“Oh that’s right, I forgot,” Plagg replied. “You already have a secret girlfriend, according to everyone’s favorite international celebrity, Lila Rossi.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ladybug’s not my girlfriend either,” he corrected him again.

Plagg poked him back. “And how did you know I meant Ladybug?”

“W-well, I-I just…” Adrien stammered, his body growing hot in spite of the crisp autumn weather. “It was implied. Anyway, we’re not in a relationship.”

“Not yet, you mean?” Plagg inquired with a quirked brow.

“Plagg! That’s not– I mean… not that I’d mind –AUGH, wait! That’s not what I meant to say!!” he whisper-shrieked as an even more intense wave of heat traveled down his torso. “Let’s just go. I can’t spend a bunch of time trying to figure out what kind of relationship we have, or we’ll be late.”

“You could always ask her tonight during patrol,” Plagg suggested with an eyebrow waggle. “Unless your mouths find something more ‘fun’ to do instead.”

Adrien let out a choked whine, covering his face with his hands. Instead of answering, he scurried down the sidewalk, trying his hardest to ignore the muffled cackles emerging from his clothes.

He rang the doorbell and waited. A few moments passed and the door opened to reveal Alya, who greeted him with a smile.

“Hey, buddy! Glad you could make it! Come on in!”

She led him upstairs to the family room, where everyone’s study materials and textbooks were already spread out onto the dining table.

“Hi, Adrien!” Marinette called from the kitchen area as they walked past. “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just getting us some refreshments.”

Adrien greeted her back, making sure to compliment how pretty she looked today (to which she replied with a small “EEP!!” and a flustered, stuttered, “Thank you”) then he walked over to join Nino.

“Dude! Long time no see!” he said excitedly, standing up to welcome him and give him a tight hug.

Adrien chuckled as he squeezed back. “I know, right? It’s been almost twenty-four hours! I was starting to go through best bro withdrawals!” He set his backpack down and began laying out his own notes and textbooks.

A few minutes passed as they chatted and got situated, but Adrien couldn’t quite focus on the conversation. He was too busy casting (apparently not so furtive) glances towards the door, curiously awaiting whoever else would be attending their study group.

Sensing his restlessness, Nino asked, “Hey bro, you looking for something?”

Adrien shrugged. “Oh, I was just wondering–”

A loud clatter of pots and pans interrupted their conversation, punctuated by a loud “EEEEEK!!”, and the group’s heads whipped towards the kitchen in alarm.

“Marinette?” Alya asked, a worried crinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m okay!!” Marinette cried from within. “Just bumped into something and uhhh, knocked over some other stuff, no biggie!” she explained sheepishly.

Adrien turned back towards Nino and Alya. “I’ll go help,” he reassured them with a smile.

He walked towards the kitchen, watching Marinette as she put away the kitchenware she’d accidentally knocked out of a cabinet.

He rounded the corner of the bar countertop and called out cheerfully, “Heya!”

Marinette whirled around in surprise with a sharp yelp, accidentally stepping backwards onto a stray metal platter. Adrien watched as if in slow motion as Marinette fell backwards towards the hard tile floor.

“Mari!!”

Adrien reflexively darted forward and managed to catch her just in the nick of time, her body nearly parallel to the floor. He pulled her up gingerly, his arms firmly wrapped around her waist and back, their chests barely touching. They stared at each other as they panted, their breaths mingling together.

Marinette blinked, her cheeks a deep crimson, and she let out a small, nervous laugh. “Nice catch,” she said, almost as a whisper.

Adrien let out a deep, relieved sigh. “I got lucky. Sorry I startled you.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said as he pulled her closer and helped her stand up. “I really should pay better attention to my surroundings,” she continued, rubbing her arm with a rueful expression on her face.

“You’re just trying to do too much all at once, that’s all. Let me help,” he replied. “I can reach all the high shelves!” he offered, flexing his arms theatrically, trying to add some silliness into the awkwardness.

She blinked, then let out a small giggle, cheeks still red. “A-alright,” she replied. “Uh… Why don’t you pour some water into these glasses while I finish cleaning this up?”

“Sure!” he chirped happily.

Marinette smiled and resumed her task of cleaning up the fallen pots and pans. Adrien opened the refrigerator to fetch the water pitcher, then began to fill the glasses.

As he did so, he noticed there were only four glasses on the countertop. Odd. They’d need an extra one for Marinette’s (former) love, wouldn’t they? Were they coming alone or would there be extra people? His chest tingled with curiosity as he wondered who it could be.

Turning back towards him, Marinette said, “By the way, the water pitcher’s inside the refri— oh nevermind, you already found it.”

Adrien chuckled nervously, continuing to pour. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So how many glasses do we need?”

Marinette looked back at him with a perplexed look. “It’s just the four of us today, as usual. Unless you invited someone else?”

“Uhh, no, I didn’t. I just thought…”

He trailed off and froze.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute.

Marinette had said–

...but if no one else was coming, then that meant...

No.

No way.

Was Marinette in love with Nino?? He’d had a small crush on her ages ago, but he and Alya had been together for years now. Marinette would never try to wedge herself between them, not in a million years!

Her crush couldn't be Alya either, right? Marinette had mentioned that her crush was male.

But… But that meant–

“Adrien, the water!” Marinette cried, her voice jolting him back from his thoughts.

Horrified, he realized he was still pouring water into the already-filled glass, spilling it all over the countertop.

He gasped as he realized his mistake, and set the pitcher down. “Shoot! I’m sorry, Marinette! I'll clean it up!”

He turned around to open a drawer across the way, bringing out a couple of kitchen towels to soak up the liquid.

“I kinda zoned out,” he continued, wiping up the mess. “I’m really sorry, it looks like I’m only doing more harm than good in here.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. But, um...” Her face scrunched up in confusion, “How did you know that’s where we kept the towels?”

Adrien’s eyes grew large. Oops. Why was he so full of blunders today??

“Uhh, I’ve just… I’ve seen you open that drawer before. O-on a different day,” he deflected with a shrug, obviously unable to divulge the true reason he knew his way around the Dupin-Cheng kitchen.

Marinette let out a short hmm . “Yeah, that makes sense. You must have a great memory!” She smiled with a blush and added, “Although that shouldn’t surprise me; I’ve always known you're really smart.”

Adrien forced himself to smile at the compliment, yet a cold chill ran down his spine.

“Not as smart as I should’ve been,” he muttered, speaking about more than just spilled water.

He should have noticed. He should have known. He should have realized sooner that the sadness in her eyes was because of him.

Marinette patted his arm, which tingled under her touch. “No worries, it’s just water. No harm done!” she said sweetly, her kind smile growing even wider.

But I hurt you , he thought to himself. Their conversation from that day rushed back to the forefront of his mind. An indirect and cruel rejection before she ever even got the chance to confess.

He thought back to all the times they’d hung out together as civilians since that fateful day when she came home in tears after school. She’d never treated Adrien any differently after he unknowingly broke her heart. Was she that amazing an actress, or was she just that strong?

Marinette finished putting the drinks and snacks onto a serving tray and bid him to follow her to the living area, where Nino and Alya were eagerly waiting. But how would he be able to concentrate on studying after knowing he’d been the focus of Marinette’s unrequited affections?

No, not affections. She’d used the word “love”. She was actively trying to fall out of love with him.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Nevertheless, that nagging feeling stayed with him for the remainder of the study session. -------

(Mood Music: Que reste-t-il de nos amours? - Avalon Jazz Band)

[Later that day]

Marinette squinted suspiciously.

Chat had been acting weird. Or rather, weird for him, which was saying something. He’d been in a somber mood ever since he came back that afternoon after her study session. What had happened during that brief time while they’d been separated?

Speaking of which, she recalled that poor Adrien had been acting out of sorts as well. She’d asked him if everything was alright, but his face went red and he waved it off, saying it was nothing, claiming that he was just a little tired. She hasn’t pressed the issue, especially knowing that he had a difficult home life and busy schedule. She dearly hoped he’d come to her if he ever needed someone to talk to.

In any case, she’d been surprised to find Chat just as morose and out of sorts. She’d asked him what was wrong and he instantly dismissed it. Then he promptly excused himself to his bedroom, which was unusual. Normally he was chatty as can be during dinnertime, then he would hang out with the rest of the family during the evenings, playing videogames or board games, or engaging in conversation over some tea.

But tonight, he’d hardly spoken a word. He had only answered briefly when spoken to, and it was like he could barely look her in the eye. And whenever he did, she could’ve sworn she saw something like… guilt?

She wasn’t sure. But she knew she didn’t like it.

Something was wrong. She was sure of it. Perhaps he wasn’t able to share what it was exactly due to his secret identity, but she was determined to help him fix it. She wanted to know the truth.

Tikki had lightly chastised her, saying that maybe Chat Noir had a good reason why he couldn’t share his problems, and that she shouldn’t pry or be too nosy. But this wasn’t nosiness! They were friends! And not only that; it was her duty as Ladybug to look out for his well-being, right??

Speaking of Ladybug...

They had patrol scheduled for later that night. Should she ask him again, as Ladybug? She pondered it... but no; he’d probably act tough and pretend it was nothing again. They were still working on being more open with each other, but progress was slow. Though not for lack of trying. Chat just… didn’t always know how to relax around Ladybug. He didn’t verbalize it, but it was as if deep down, he was always bracing for imminent rejection. Almost like he expected everything to be a dream, and any day now he’d wake up back at his father’s house, all alone.

Despite being allies, there were still many obstacles that stood in their way, as they both navigated through their partnership trying to find their unique dynamic, still somewhat guarded in their words and actions, to avoid hurting the other. There were invisible walls between them, and every time they’d succeeded in tearing one down, it was only to find that there was another wall behind it.

He’d mentioned before that he would never want to do anything to jeopardize their partnership. So he had a tendency to keep quiet about a lot of things, and not rock the boat, so to speak. He’d mentioned before that he trusted her implicitly. But it was like he didn’t trust himself. Or trust his luck.

He tended to be more open with Marinette, most likely because he didn’t feel that he had to watch what he said as closely for fear of rejection. Thankfully, he’d always been able to confide in her.

That is... until today.

She sighed.

Maybe he just needed an evening where he could be himself and be a normal person, as the guy behind the costume. But how to do that without revealing his identity?

Her eyebrows scrunched deeply as a tiny idea planted itself in her brain, slowly blooming into a full-blown scheme.

“I know that look,” Tikki remarked warily. “You’re up to something, aren’t you, Marinette?”

“Maybe,” Marinette replied with a sly grin. “I think Chat needs to get out of the house and spend a night on the town.” With that, she hopped off her desk chair and walked to the large, antique storage chest in the corner of her room where she kept all her current sewing projects. She rummaged around, searching for something.

“How are you going to do that?” Tikki asked with a concerned furrow of her brow.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” she replied as she found the item she was looking for, then set it down on her chaise.

She then opened her phone’s contacts and dialed Mylene’s father's number.

Tikki peeked over her shoulder. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, but I hope it helps Chat Noir cheer up,” she remarked.

A few seconds later, there was an answer on the other side of the phone.

“Monsieur Haprèle? It’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I have a quick favor to ask, if that’s alright.”

A few moments later, the phone call ended, successfully putting the next part of her plan into motion. Monsieur Haprèle had graciously offered to stop by and drop off the items Marinette had asked for, since he needed to be in that part of town anyway for an errand.

“I think we have everything we need.” She winked at her kwami. “And now, Ladybug needs to make a phone call. Tikki, spots on!”

----

Chat closed his communicator and plopped onto his bed with a groan. Ladybug had cancelled patrol at the last minute, postponing it to the next day. He ran his hands down his face dejectedly. He supposed that was just as well. As excited as he’d been to meet with her tonight, he probably wouldn’t be very good company, since he’d been in such a crummy mood all evening.

Still… he’d really wanted to see her. Her presence always managed to do wonders for his morale.

He settled for pulling up a candid photo he’d taken of her with his staff’s camera on a different day. She was breathtaking; smiling softly while looking into the distance, the sunset a golden halo behind her, making her look like the angel she was. He smiled at the memory, and he felt his stomach fill with butterflies as they always did when he truly looked at her.

He swiped to the photo he’d taken right afterwards, when she realized he was taking a picture, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Then the photo after that, where she’d let out a bashful giggle, bringing her hand to her mouth, looking adorably shy. And the last photo from those few precious moments: Ladybug striking a dramatic pose, with an exaggerated pout that would put any supermodel to shame; a reminder of her sense of humor and willingness to be vulnerable and silly around him.

His smile broadened, his heart now thumping loudly in his chest. She really was so extraordinary.

A sudden rap on his bedroom door jolted him out of his daydreaming. He sat up and put his staff away as he answered, “Come in.”

The door opened, revealing a sharply dressed Marinette. He almost didn’t recognize her at first, since she’d changed out of her clothes from earlier and her hair was up in high twin buns.

“Hey Minou! You busy tonight?”

“Uhh, actually, no. Patrol got moved to tomorrow.”

“Then I have a proposition for you,” she said, her voice high and chipper. Without waiting for a reply, she took his hand and practically dragged him up to her bedroom. “But first, I need to give you something.”

They arrived at her room and she let go of his hand, then knelt by a large cardboard box he’d never seen before that was labeled “Backstage”. She unfolded the top, then started bringing out a myriad of fabrics and materials so hastily, that her movements were practically blurred. She took out a large pair of sunglasses that resembled vintage aviator-style goggles, an almost ninja-esque facemask, and set them aside.

She stood, holding something else behind her back, and walked up to him with a shy grin, her legs doing her trademark nervous shuffle.

“First of all, I- uh… I made you something. I started it a little while back and finally finished it today.” She tucked some hair behind her ear as she averted her eyes timidly, her cheeks dusted with a lovely shade of pink. “I hope you like it.”

She revealed the item behind her back, holding it up with both hands. It was a black zip-up hoodie, with muted, subtle detailing as an homage to his Chat Noir suit, but the main feature was the cat ears sewn onto the hood itself.

Chat’s jaw dropped, and his eyes practically bugged out of his head. This was the cutest, most considerate thing he’d ever been gifted.

He was at a loss for words, but thankfully Marinette interrupted, “I made it for you so you could hang out at home without having to be transformed all the time. ‘Cause I know that can be exhausting for Plagg, and it’d probably be more comfortable for you to be dressed in casual, loose-fitting clothes. Also–” she gestured towards the box behind her, “–my friend’s dad, he’s an actor, and he gave me a box full of masks and other costumes. You can mix and match, so you can have fun with it while still protecting your identity.” She extended the hoodie towards him hesitantly. “Uhh… anyway, obviously I didn’t take your measurements because it would’ve ruined the surprise, but it should fit you just fine. Cotton-polyester blend fleece is pretty forgiving like that.”

Chat gingerly accepted the garment, slowly and carefully running his fingers across the soft fabric as he admired the attention to detail his friend had lovingly crafted into a piece of clothing that would hardly ever be seen by anyone else.

He gaped at her, throat feeling quite dry. “Marinette… I don’t know what to say. Just… Thank you. This is such a thoughtful gift. I… wow.” He brought his hand up to his face, still in total disbelief. “I wish there was something I could do to show you how much I appreciate that you’re always looking out for me. There’s gotta be a way for me to thank you. Y-you’re always so… you’re just… I’m...”

Marinette stepped closer to him, their toes almost touching. The sudden proximity got his attention instantly, and she booped his nose with her index finger. “Well then, this is your lucky day. I know just the thing you can do for me.”

“Uhh, sure! A-anything you need, just ask,” he stammered, slightly confused.

She began, “Sooo, here’s what I was thinking…”

She continued to speak as she paced around the room, sort of beating around the bush, the speed of her words steadily increasing until she was talking a million miles a minute, so rapidly that he could barely understand what in the world she was talking about. Although he distinctly heard the words “movie theater”, “chaperone”, and a pleading, “You wouldn’t want me to go all by myself, would you?”

“Uhhh–” he tried to interject, still deep in his confusion.

“And before you turn me down and say, ‘But I, the dark and mysterious Chat Noir, cannot be seen in public with a civilian!’ don’t worry: I got you,” she interrupted.

She handed him the sunglasses and face mask, and said, “Detransform and put these on, along with your hoodie. You can wear these to the movies and be totally incognito!”

Chat let out a high-pitched “WHAT?!” his voice cracking once it couldn’t go any higher.

“No one will recognize you with the costume! It’s really not that conspicuous! Lots of people wear special blue-light blocking glasses when they watch movies or use their computers. And face masks have become a pretty common way to keep germs from spreading, so nobody will spare you a second glance. You’ll totally blend in with the crowd. And it’ll be my treat! Please??”

Chat rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around nervously. This was all so sudden and he was unsure how to respond. He’d never done anything like this before.

“I-I dunno…”

Marinette continued, wringing her hands anxiously as she spoke, “I know this is totally out of the blue, but there’s this one movie I really wanna watch that’s only gonna be in theaters for this one weekend. I’d ask Alya and Nino, but it’s pretty last minute. And even if they’re available, they’d probably just make out during the entire movie anyway, and God knows being the awkward third wheel gets tiresome after a while,” she added with an eyeroll. “Adrien always has to be booked months in advance, all my other girlfriends are busy, and I really don’t wanna go alone; it’s not safe to walk around a big city all by yourself at night, y’know. So, what do you say??”

Chat looked back at her, her big blue eyes silently begging him to come along.

He suppressed a sigh, biting his lip instead. She wouldn’t want to hang out with him if she knew who he really was and what he’d done to her. She’d always been absolutely wonderful to him– to both sides of him– and he’d repaid her by being a crappy friend who’d been totally oblivious to her feelings. He truly didn’t deserve her.

He was about to decline and try to make up some excuse, but just then, her words from earlier in the day popped back into his head: “I’m just trying to get past him. I wanna move on.”

He paused. All day, he’d only been thinking about his own feelings and feeling sorry about himself, wallowing in guilt. But right now, this was about Marinette, and her needs. And at this moment, it sounded like what she needed was someone to just be with her. He could set aside his own apprehensiveness and insecurities to help her out, instead of pushing her away. After all, she always went out of her way for her friends constantly, at the cost of herself. She’d always been so selfless… to the point where she tended to neglect her own needs. He couldn’t let her keep doing that.

Determined to make things right and treat her the way she deserved for once, he nodded and smiled. “Alright, Mari. I’d love to go with you.”

Marinette let out a delighted squeal and resumed doing her excited wiggle-dance, but Chat interrupted, “On one condition! It’ll be my treat instead. After all, what good is a paycheck from the best bakery in Paris if I can’t use it to spoil my absolute favorite roommate?” He squeezed her shoulder with a wink.

Her mouth popped open in shock, then twisted into a pout. It looked like she was about to argue, but in the end, decided not to press her luck and accept his terms.

“Deal.”

#Miraculous Ladybug #Discordant Sonata #fanfiction #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #enemies AU #ML AU #aged up #Ladynoir #Marichat #Adrienette #Eden Writes #corgi-likes-chat #art by others #fanfic art #jhsldkfjhlasjkdf sorry about all the innuendo lmaooooo #I headcanon Marinette's inner sassypants comes out more while she's gaming XD

[calpops]

the cookies | c.h.

You and Calum make cookies then cuddle up to watch Christmas movies with your daughter. 

1.1k words

Day 7 of 12 dates with calmas | dates with cal masterlist

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

❅ ❅ ❅

Christmas music fills the kitchen. Scents of sugar and cinnamon linger in the warmed air and Calum hums along with the tune that’s only marginally familiar to you. Mila rests in her reclining high chair at the edge of the kitchen where your eyes can be on her and she can be in on the cookie making fun. She tracks your motions with her eyes and smiles, wiggles her tiny hands and feet whenever anything remotely amusing happens. She’s happy in her high chair, Calum’s voice always enough to bring her joy, the warm and fun atmosphere brings her mood to something bubbly and overjoyed.

You take a sheet of sugar cookies out of the oven and place them on Christmas themed potholders on the counter. Calum stirs up homemade icing and turns to Mila with a wooden spoon dripping with the sugary topping to sing a line of Last Christmas. Mila erupts into giggles that make your heart flutter with warmth and happiness; no matter how many times you hear her laugh it will never grow old. It propels you back to her days in the hospital, to the very moment she was born and the silence that accompanied her arrival. You revel in every little noise she’s able to make. Even her cries are music to your ears; they mean she’s still here.

“It’s her first concert,” Calum jokes with a smirk as he turns back to you, spoon as microphone still in hand leaving small drippings on the floor.

“Love, you were singing to her when she was still in my belly,” you remind and he blushes with modesty and gives a shrug. “You sang to her in the NICU and have sang to her every day and night since.”

Calum flicks the spoon lightly and icing dashes across the counter with the motion. “Okay, it’s her first Christmas concert,” he cracks and moves for you, leaving a sugary trail in his wake. One finger swipes some icing and darts to your nose before you can realize what’s happening.

Your mouth drops open and a little gasp leaves you at the playful antic from your husband. “You did not just do that,” you say around a disbelieving laugh.

Calum softens and discards the spoon back into its proper bowl. He wraps his arm around you. “Lemme get it off,” he says with a sincere voice but a glint in his eyes. He pulls you to him, kisses the tip of your nose then proceeds to rub his face against yours as you fall into laughter and icing gets smeared across both of your faces, Calum giving up his own safety in the plight of playful battle. Your laughter echoes around the kitchen and at the sound of it Mila joins in, amused by the giggles and the display of silliness in front of her. You try leaning back and away from him but his arms are strong and sweet kisses come back to you, making the mess worth it.

“What’s wrong? Don’t wanna give your husband a kiss?” he asks, tone light and airy but teasing and pleading all the same.

You shake your head and feel another round of little kisses pressed from your cheek to jaw. More icing joins the fight from your fingers to his cheeks and lips. Instead of fighting over it Calum just laughs and falls back, licking off the remnants he can reach and wiping away the rest with a smug smirk on his glowing face. You fall into laughter, your own hand wiping off what’s left on your skin and your eyes finding the bowl of depleted icing, the drippings all around the countertop and floor as your eyebrow arches.

“I’ll decorate the cookies, you can clean up,” you suggest and Calum throws his hands modestly in the air as if to surrender and abide by your ruling. “And get Mila in her pajamas while you’re at it.”

“I’m on it,” Calum promises and gives a mock salute to elicit another little laugh from you, Mila still watching the exchange with amusement and agreeable noises. “We’ll meet you in the living room for movies in ten,” he continues after wiping up the aftermath of battle and carefully lifting Mila into his arms from her high chair. “And bring the cookies.”

You watch with a light heart as Calum strides down the hall with your daughter in his arms, bouncing her slightly in the way that makes her grin as he goes. He talks to her the entire time and once he’s behind the nursery door you’re sure that if you put on the baby monitor he’ll still be talking as if holding a proper conversation with the five month old. You grin to yourself as you finish putting what’s left of the icing on the cookies and add little snowflake sprinkles in red and green to the tops. Calum’s endeavors to make this Christmas season your best sparing no activity.

After the cookies are done and Mila is dressed you reconvene in the living room, Calum gently gives Mila to you and then opens his arms for the both of you to settle into. He puts on a Christmas movie you’ve never seen but he promises you’ll love it. You both quickly realize it becomes nothing but background noise and light as whispered words and snuggles are more important. Mila sleeps against your chest, your arms wrapped right around her. You lay against Calum’s, his hold on you settling with one arm around your waist and one hand playing with your hair. Your eyes soften and though you’re tired and content enough for them to slip closed there’s nothing that will take this moment from you.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whisper. When Calum expresses the same you continue. “I don’t want her to grow up anymore, I want her to stay just like this, right here in my arms.” You give Mila a few small kisses and stroke her back, gently so as to not wake her but enough for her to feel and know she’s loved.

“She’ll always be our little girl,” Calum reminds you. “We’ll always have our arms open for her. No matter how big she gets.”

You feel content with that fact. All of your fears of your own upbringing by distant parents melting away at the reassurance from your husband. You’ll be better than them. You’ll always be here for her. You’ll always give her the love she needs and deserves.

—

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#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos imagines #cal!dates #dad!cal #12dwc

[punwolf]

I posted 3,690 times in 2021

38 posts created (1%)

3652 posts reblogged (99%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 96.1 posts.

I added 1,662 tags in 2021

#mass effect - 265 posts

#dragon age - 247 posts

#cullen rutherford - 229 posts

#nature - 185 posts

#art - 169 posts

#commander cullen - 162 posts

#dragon age inquisition - 160 posts

#wildlife - 90 posts

#illustration - 78 posts

#digital art - 77 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#a flying corgi surrounding by a cloud of trailing pale pink hearts flying across a pink and purple crystal background

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

For Cullen Week! Prompt: Ever After Audrie Amell and Cullen find some peace before things explode in Dragon Age 4. This is a colored version of a piece I did in October for Cozy Autumn Prompts. I wanted to try it in color and it fit Cullen Week too well not to change it up a little.  Ohuhu alcohol markers on XPress It blending board. Background is cheap acrylic paint to keep from wasting ink. @cullensource

26 notes • Posted 2021-04-06 08:59:25 GMT

#4

Whuffie’s “I need more Dragon Age on my dash so I’m making gif sets” replay. Set #3 Return to the Temple of Sacred Ashes

47 notes • Posted 2021-06-28 22:50:09 GMT

#3

For Cullen Week! Prompt: Scars I tried to convey Cullen’s inner scars in the form of nightmares. I used a stock photo for reference and loved the deep shadows. This is watercolor and Prisma colors. Please be kind. This is literally the first time I’ve done a human being in these mediums and the 2nd time to ever use them at all. (The first one was a portrait of a dog.) @cullensource

58 notes • Posted 2021-04-05 13:43:58 GMT

#2

“Thirst” prompt for Cullenweek! The Commander takes a break from training to have a drink of water. (Remember to stay hydrated and block with your shield.)

Ohuhu alcohol markers on XPressit Blending card. Background is cheap acrylic paint because I didn’t want to waste marker ink on something which was for me and practice. Loved how this came out in my growing practice with alcohol markers on my art journey. @cullensource

72 notes • Posted 2021-04-03 13:40:14 GMT

#1

Cullen “I’m doing your job for you while you play with the Flycam” Rutherford.

254 notes • Posted 2021-04-26 23:26:33 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[nomanwalksalone]

BOOK REVIEW: RICHARD JAMES SAVILE ROW

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

As Troy McClure said about playing the human in a musical adaptation of Planet of the Apes, reviewing this book is “the role I was born to play!”

Simply entitled Richard James: Savile Row, this book commemorates the 25th anniversary in Savile Row of the fashion house and tailors of the same name.  A read is somewhat disappointing, full of short essays by what amounts to a rather incestuous school of longtime Richard James fans in British media and entertainment, among them British GQ’s Dylan Jones and Richard’s most notorious client, Elton John.

Elton’s known as a voracious devotee – to not say addict – of his favorite outfitters over the decades, buying out entire shopfloors at times.  His twenty-year devotion to Richard James is a key to understanding Richard James’ enormous if unrecognized positive influence on contemporary men’s clothing and British tailoring. Forty years ago Elton dressed head-to-toe in psychedelic Tommy Nutter, switching in the 1980s to over-the-top Gianni Versace glitz.  Since the end of the 1990s, he’s evangelized Richard James.

Tommy Nutter, the last tailor-designer in Savile Row, dominated British men’s tailoring in the 1970s.  Custom tailoring took a back seat to the cult of the ready-to-wear designer, mostly the Continentals: Pierre Cardin, then Armani and Versace.  Nutter had a few isolated 1980s hits, like dressing the Joker in 1989’s Batman, before dying in 1992.

What had become of the British? 1980s attitudes towards luxury and clothing meant regression, selling an image of Britain as Raj, pith helmets, and gin among palm trees, not progress. Ralph Lauren did a much better job selling that ethos in his more expensive lines than any of the British could.  Some tried; those of us of a certain age (me) remember seeing cashmere sweaters made in China sold in Bloomingdales under the label of Savile Row tailor Gieves & Hawkes, or blocky ready-to-wear suits at Barneys sold with the name of Savile Row tailor Kilgour, French & Stanbury, although made in Canada by Samuelson.  An ersatz Britishness for export markets, an ersatz image and look created by ready-to-wear licensees with little input from the British tailors desperately trying to sell their names abroad.

Into this breach came Richard James. Like Nutter, James is categorically not a trained tailor.  What he is, though, is an inspired designer who, since opening on Savile Row, has offered true custom tailoring as well as ready-to-wear in visionary designs.  I remember the first Richard James items I noticed, beautiful belts and wallets of gorgeous quality hand stitched in England with contrasting linings in deeply saturated color.  I still have one of those belts, in all its magnificence.  What did they have to do with British custom tailoring?  Nothing – and everything. For the first time a Savile Row name appeared to be doing something relevant, interesting and elegant – and doing it to the fullest extent and the last detail. Savile Row survives by its export markets and by the reputation its tailors have forged for beautiful items of a certain Britishness.  No more uninspired licensed items that has as much to do with British elegance as a Sterling car (derided by Consumer Reports for “Industrial Revolution-era” English technology, remember those?). What Richard James has done is modernize British elegance from the creepy colonial-obsessed ethos that today only blinkered Brexiteer bluestockings and Internet edgelords cling to.  Even the past James references uses other, more inspired touchstones of British greatness, including his bespoke offer (initially serviced by the Savile Row tailors Anthony J. Hewitt and James Levett before being brought in-house), but also ready-to-wear shirts in stripes that recalled the best of Swinging London; handmade ties whose lush, delicate patterns rivalled the best of midcentury Sulka or today’s Charvet; magnificently, decadently warm alpaca pile ‘teddy bear” coats originally created for 1920s motorists; astonishingly soft leather or suede jackets in the café racer style 1960s London Mods would have died for; and even the made-to-order cashmere socks with custom monograms Corgi used to make for defunct shops of yesteryear like the custom shirtmaker Beale & Inman.  It was a vision of Britishness far, far from Lauren’s fantasies, a Britishness that admitted the turmoil of Ted Heath’s premiership, that added much-needed glamor after John Major’s greyness.  And James reminded us what was wonderful about the British suit by invoking all that was dashing in its cut.  Ready-to-wear suits were made in beautiful cloths from British mills like the impeccable Taylor & Lodge, in unexpectedly evocative colors and patterns: sharp mohair sharkskin, gorgeously patterned real Scottish or Irish tweeds or a French navy that was lighter than the normal shade; even rainbow chalkstripes on a sober dark ground.  The cut was always tapered at the waist, double-vented, slant pocketed in the “hacking” style, a look espoused by Patrick Macnee’s subversively too-British John Steed in the 1960s.  Richard’s linings were often boldly colorful, to remind us what could be playful about the suit, everything that 1980s pretention (clinging to all the trimmings of colonial oppression) had repressed.

Richard James the book shines in cataloguing those designs in beautiful detail.  James really has been the best colorist in the business, as Jones termed him.  Even more importantly, this book also shows how James has aced the tricky game of tennis without a net of innovating within the classic: in addition to recreating ruffle-fronted tuxedo shirts like those of George Lazenby’s louche Bond in 1969’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, James also invented tuxedo shirts whose fronts (instead of pleats or stiff waffle-weave Marcella) were hand-beaded by Hand & Lock, beaders and embroiderers to Her Majesty the Queen; Corgi (knitters and hosiers to the Prince of Wales) knitted thick, thick cashmere sweaters with hand-inlaid abstract intarsia designs; elegant cufflinks (always double-sided) recalled childhood marbles in the forms of hand-blown translucent glass or semiprecious banded agate (a real “Aggie”) or amber set in sterling silver; and even a travel bag that recalled the bags given away by Pan Am or Concorde in the early days of jet travel was rendered in ballistic nylon with reflective silver piping and brilliantly contrasting linings.

I’ve never owned a Richard James bespoke suit.  I know that his ready-to-wear suits were disappointingly half-canvassed or fused, despite their wonderful materials.  But they helped remind me that Savile Row could still be relevant, and that those tailors, despite past reputation, could be approachable and contemporary – and that has been my experience with the other tailors of Savile Row, including the impeccable, evocatively named Steed, whom I loved for their name before ever using them.

Every item with the Richard James name carried and carries the same visionary, whimsical design philosophy, a Britishness less fanciful and more romantic than Paul Smith’s, and far less caricatural and cynical than those of Ralph Lauren or Hackett.  Socks, always made to a high-standard by Pantherella, are accented in amusing contrast colors or mad patterns. I have a number that are doing fine almost 20 years later.  My Richard James Concorde bag has been a beloved, perfect gym bag for years, while his larger, tougher Japanese denim bag (trimmed in the best British bridle hide) is my go-to travel holdall no matter where on Earth I go. My beaded Richard James tux shirt is a prized piece of design genius, as is a magnificently waterproof raincoat made for him by Mackintosh in a beige twill that cunningly iridesces turquoise or orange from certain angles. For years I’ve searched for the same shade of gorgeous Thomas Mason turquoise twill cotton that an old Richard James shirt is in, but most of his materials are specially made for his designs; even the fine-gauge cotton knits that John Smedley or Peter Geeson created for him seemed to be in special colors and to his own patterns.

That wealth, that treasury of a vision and genius, tumbles out of Richard James’ new book, pictures that really are worth thousands of words and that speak for themselves about the importance of this designer’s contribution, reminding us that Savile Row, indeed British menswear itself, still had things of wonder to offer us.

#rjman #reginaldjeromedemans

[cheri-translates]

[CN] 100 Days - Kiro (Day 51 - 100)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for e-mails which have not been released in English servers! 🍒

What’s the 100 Days Companionship Event?

Day 1 - 3: here

Day 4 - 30: here

Day 31 - 50: here

Day 51

The game we played together has released new DLC. Want to come online tonight and play it?

Day 52

Each time I see delicacies in comics, I always find them especially enticing. Next time, let’s try making them together, okay?

Day 53

If I sleep one hour less and wake up one hour earlier, I would have two more hours to chat with you. The ancient people are right - sleeping and waking up early improves one’s quality of life.

Day 54

I heard that a new braised goose cafe opened recently. I’m using my gaze to hint to Miss Chips to hand over her resting time this evening.

[Note] I’m not sure if there’s a typo but I don’t think “撸鹅” (“lu e”) means anything? I’m guessing it’s supposed to be be 卤鹅 (which shares the same pronunciation), which means braised goose. Do correct me if I’m wrong!

Day 55

Today is an exercise “cheat day” - let’s have a sumptuous meal together? How about that hotpot stall from last time?

Day 56

Today, Apple Box and Cello each took one of my socks into their mouths and ran…. Only after scrambling for a while did I manage to leave the house…

Day 57

There’s a new movie to film, and I don’t know which role I’m getting this time. I hope I wouldn’t have to cut down on fat again…

Day 58

The days of eating salads are about to begin again… Next time, I’ll definitely ask Savin to pick a fatter role!

Day 59

The fruit flavoured milk I loved when I was young… as expected, it’s still just as delicious now!

Day 60

I helped Mango Ice’s owner design a perfect walk procedure. In the end, it didn’t follow the route and frolicked around! Technology doesn’t understand Corgis!

[Trivia] The last sentence probably doesn’t make sense in English, but it’s a play on words in Chinese because technology 科技 (’ke ji”) has the same pronunciation as corgis 柯基 (“ke ji”)!

Day 61

I swear - the reason why I snatched the last ice-cream from you is solely because I was afraid you’d catch a cold. It’s definitely not because I wanted to eat it myself!

Day 62

Guess where I’m sending you this e-mail from? The highest mountaintop of Loveland High!

Day 63

Why is your teddy bear plush wearing the same sweatshirt as I am! Could it be…

Day 64

The most amazing part of autumn is how it combines everyone’s happiness into eating hotpot and lying under quilts.

Day 65

Let’s watch a movie. I heard that the new superhero is modelled based on a stag. I wonder if he’d be awesome!

Day 66

I discovered that the most dangerous place is the safest place. Savin will never find the snacks I’ve hidden in his office, hahaha!

Day 67

Are you thinking of me? I can’t be the only one secretly thinking about you, right?

Day 68 (Halloween)

Title: Exclusive sweets

Ding dong ding dong, Miss Chips, open the door quickly! If you don’t receive the exclusive sweets, Troublemaker Kiro will definitely not leave!

Day 69

When one is hungry, everything looks like food. I even saw a sandwich walking over to say hello…

Day 70

I woke up early to play a game, but it was undergoing server maintenance. I’m so angry!

Day 71

The newly released sake flavoured soda is really strong. I’ve decided to use it to deceive Savin so he’d give me a day of rest to see you.

Day 72

Today, I reached out to touch a stray cat’s head and it didn’t dodge. I’m happy, and feel as though I’m the chosen one!

Day 73

I played baseball after such a long time. It’s a pity you didn’t see how incredibly dashing I looked.

Day 74

Perhaps it’s because of the season, but I’ve been feeling blue recently. The symptom is that I want to see you at every moment.

Day 75

One of my earpieces is broken. I suddenly feel so helpless without surround sound QAQ

Day 76

Miss Chips is truly my medicine. The moment I see you, I feel my entire world becoming sunny and cloudless!

Day 77

Your new hairstyle today is really cute. Looks like you flop around in your sleep too. I actually like that tuft of curled up hair!

Day 78

When will there be a legally recognised Eating Hotpot Day - the kind which lasts seven days a week?

Day 79 (Single’s Day)

Received a gift from a five-year old little fan. He used autumn plants to make a portrait of me, so today’s Kiro has a maple and blueberry scent!

Day 80

Today’s achievement: Anonymously posted a karaoke recording, and the comments reflected that “the singing seems to sound like Kiro!”

Day 81

I played a new game recently, and the main character is a hacker. In the end, he was fighting and killing all the way - we hackers are not like that!

Day 82

Do you still remember that pop-up donut shop from last year? This year, they announced that there will be a new theme. Looking forward to it!

Day 83

The script for the new movie is quite similar to the very first role I took up. Even though it’s a similar role, I’ll play it with a different feeling.

Day 84

Saw an old grandfather clipping an old grandmother’s nails. I also want to clip your nails once. Is that okay? I’ll definitely be very careful!

Day 85

Today, a stray cat was sleeping underneath the van. In order not to disturb its sweet dream, I decided to be fully equipped and ride a bicycle to meet you.

Day 86

Why can’t I remove the bitterness of black coffee even after adding so many sugar cubes, yet just one you can make my life so sweet?

Day 87

Everyone will experience a few meteor showers, a few solar eclipses, and a few red moons in their lifetime. I hope you’ll be by my side during these special moments.

Day 88

The sweatshirt you’re wearing today is really cute. I couldn’t help but place a toffee in your hood. You haven’t realised it, have you?

Day 89

I felt as though I sang incredibly well in the bathroom, so I recorded a section and sent it to you. Listen to it quickly!

Day 90

I really want to watch movies with you, the both of us shutting the curtains and burrowing in a small room together. Let’s make it a reality tonight!

Day 91

I’ve thought of an ultimate way to eat mangoes without dirtying our hands. Want to know what it is?

Day 92

You looked really cute when I caught you secretly listening to my song! Actually, there’s no need to do it secretively. You can express your favouritism to me unabashedly!

Day 93

Suddenly recalled those rocking cars which could sing in front of the supermarket entrance. Did you ride them when you were younger?

Day 94

Every time I cover your eyes, you’d call my name at the first try. Is it really that easy to guess?

Day 95

How does Savin always manage to find my hidden snacks? I suspect that he has installed a surveillance monitor on my body!

Day 96

Let’s go to the KTV. I want to hold a concert with you as my only audience.

Day 97

Out of curiosity last night, I bought a large pack of strange flavoured chips.  I tried one bag today, and now I feel as though I can see little green men from Mars flying in the sky.

Day 98

In the future, let’s frequently flip through these sign-in records. Even though it’s a little shameful, I really want to recollect this period of time often!

Day 99

There’s a kind of liberating feeling when it’s after work and I’m in the car on the way to you!

Day 100

I wish to tell Miss Chips, who’s persevered in signing in over this period of time, that she has worked hard! Looking forward to the next game with you!

[piraticalarchive]

You make me laugh so much, especially when I need it. Thank you for being here ❤️

listen i have been on the struggle bus and at this moment in time this was like .. the best message ever. I love you an insane amount and you're so funny whenever we talk AND YOU HAVE CORGI PICTURES HELLO??????? I killed a huge ass bug and thought of of you and i was like man - southern state solidarity. You are a damn gem on this site and I know you're waiting to get your laptop back but just know that until your writing returns to grace my dash - i still devour every post i'm given. headcanons, memes, general posts about life - you are just such a wonderful person and I'm so glad you're on this site and that i'm lucky enough to know you!! you seriously came out of no where and made me emotional this morning. I started this day off with waffles and i thought nothing could make me more emotional than that but apparently i was straight up wrong. I love you so much, thank you for existing !!

#save ; #BRANDY THIS WAS SO ??? NICE??? I'M??? #i appreciate you so much omg #i hope things get better soon and that you get all of the reasons to laugh that you deserve <33 #which is a trillion billion million x 5 #...that's a lot. just in case you don't like doing conversions.

[maximumninjavoid]

Chapter Two of the fic that doesn’t have a title

I know, you’re shocked. So am I. You remember this, I’ll go back and re-name them, once I figure out what the bloody thing wants to be called, or where the imaginary people want to go or something. Heck, there aren’t even warnings at this point.

Damn it takes me way too long to set a thing up, doesn’t it?

You've played that game..... I KNOW you have. You'll see a billboard, or an advert, or hear about some enormous jackpot and you just start playing....." I would buy a house for my mom and dad, I would pay for my kids to go to college, I've always wanted to travel to Tahiti", and go on a shopping spree, buy cars, we all do it. All day long, I kept thinking about it, and I never deviated from the plan I had always had, ever since I started playing. Turns out, you have a calendar year to claim your winnings, and, you'll love this, you don't have to do it in person. Yeah. I see you smiling. You're beginning to see where I'm coming from, aren't you? First thing is I hire an attorney. I am their only client. At a mega million jackpot, even if I took it all in one lump sum, after the government took their share, that's still a ridiculous amount of money. So, Attorney person, you get to talk to all the people who will now want a piece of me. Or, more correctly, my money. That's your job. Answer the phone calls. Answer the mail. Tell anyone who says they're my long lost best friend from junior high to fuck right off.  Help me find the right investment person, and fix it so if I lose money, they lose money. I would prefer they have a personal stake in my well being. There has to be ways to make the money keep making money. I mean, besides not spending it, which, have you noticed, wealthy people never do? I mean, HRH Queen Elizabeth. And I love and respect that woman so much. The epitome of duty and service, but, everywhere she goes, she carries a handbag. FOR WHAT? For her ID? She's on the currency. Everyone knows who she is. A handkerchief, maybe. The odd corgi treat. But truth now, what's she got in there? I'd set up a matrilineal trust, for my daughter, and her daughters if she has any. So she would be comfortable and taken care of, but not so that she could buy super cars or something silly. I'd fund my grandkids education if they wanted it, in some other kind of trust. But first, I'd get on an around the world cruise. A Cunard cruise. You know, where they dress for dinner every night, and they have high tea. Butler service. Classes you can take. Libraries.  Where it wouldn't be an issue that I was traveling by myself because the cruise line employs 'walkers' who are dashing gentlemen who have no issue with chatting up and dancing with ladies of a certain age and making them feel spectacular, even if we might be just a tad past our sell by date. An around the world cruise takes about 104 days give or take,  One satellite phone, to check in with my attorney if need be, a steamer trunk of ensembles, and I'd just wander off. That way I can go everywhere, and see where I would want to go back to for a longer visit. Or decide that a relatively short excursion was just enough, and I didn't need to go back. I could swim, treadmill and walk every day, learn to fence. I kid you not. Go look. Guest speakers, a PLANETARIUM. I could eat wonderfully, and write the whole time. Maybe work on a book. Tell my story. Mostly, I would plan. Hollowed out volcano you say? Oh my God that's so cliche. Hidden lair underneath a mountain lake? Really? What's next ? Ruined castle in some small forgotten principality in Europe? Oh no. I'm not falling for any of that. I graduated at the top of my class in Evil Over Lord School. I know better. Nothing that obvious. I have my attorney claim my winnings on day 360, without releasing my name or my likeness, and then, I can start having fun. I get off the cruise ship in Thailand where I have the finest frame off restoration one can have. All the fat sucked out, perk up my butt, pick my boobs back up where they started, ditch the love handles and the bat wings under my arms, A bit of botox between my eyes, contour my belly, and fix my two teeth. See if we can roll the odometer back a bit.I already don't look or act my age, but we could re-bait the hook a bit.

@indigosaurus @fishcustardandclintbarton @tinareher @thetaoofzoe

@angryschnauzer

#where am I going with this #henry cavill fanfic #he will show up eventually #right?

[arctichalo]

Pass the happy! 🌻 When you receive this, list 5 things that make you happy and send this to the to 10 of the last people in your notifications.

ohh how nice, thank you for the ask! 💖

ok so 5 things that make me happy. these are things that have made me happy lately:

my dogs! i have two corgis. they're my babies and i cuddle and kiss them every day and i love them the most.

fanfiction. it's been a constant in my life since i was 11 (aka 17 years goddamn) and always there when i need an escape. i would not have made it through 2020 without fics and ao3 and i wish i could give every fic writer a high five and something nice like flowers maybe! ⚘

snow! the last winter was completely snowless where i live but now there's a lot of it and it makes the winter so much better, bless.

my home. i became a home owner a year ago and i love our apartment so much. it's a loft, we got to design the kitchen ourselves, i have a dark green velvet couch and a big window through which i can see the ocean and a lighthouse blinking in the distance. two years ago i would've thought all of that sounds like an impossible fairytale. but alas, good things happened and i'm so grateful. 😭

all of you wonderful babes who appear on my dash daily with your posts and your reblogs and your edits and art! this fandom can be a lot (and has not made me v happy lately thanks to you-know-what) but the people are the best. 💕 a special shoutout to my bestest @velvetmalice who slid into my dm's some months ago which turned out to be the best thing ever, who became my darling tumblr pen pal and who always makes my day better! 💖🥰

#oops this got long #sorry #eve writes #asks

[thespamman24]

I wish that I was a dog.

If I was a dog then I would sneak into my owners fridge and eat all of their bananas. All of them. I would keep doing it, over and over again. They would have to start keeping their bananas in secure places, but I would always find them. They could put the bananas in a locked safe and store it on the highest shelf, but somehow I would still manage to get those bananas into my big dog mouth. They would probably take me to the vet and ask the vet “Why does our dog keep on eating bananas?” but the vet would have no answer. The bananas didn’t seem to be making me ill, in fact I was more healthy than ever. Despite being a corgi, I had the strength of a rottweiler.

Eventually, they would just stop buying bananas. But that wouldn’t stop me. I would break into neighbors houses and steal their bananas. My hunger for bananas would consume my every thought, my every desire. I would grow and grow until I was twice the size of an English mastiff. Eventually, they would tie me to a stick like one of those naughty dogs but that wouldn’t stop me. I would still manage to break free, and then in a mad rage I would destroy the entirety of my owners furniture. 

My owners would have no choice but to take me to a pound. “It’s such a shame.” they would say “He used to be such a good boy, but then he just got really into bananas for some reason.” But no pound could be able to hold me. I would escape, and run all of the way back to my owners house. I would smash right through my owners door. My owners would scream as I snarled and raged and dashed across their house. Then I would plant myself in the middle of the living room and snarl. 

What could they do? They would rush off to the grocery store and grab as many bananas as they could. But that wouldn’t even be enough to satisfy me. They would have to start getting bananas in from the truckload. Spending thousands of dollars shipping in hundreds of bananas in, just to feed my appetite. I would get bigger and bigger, till I was 5 feet tall. “Surely, he’ll get sick of them. “ they’d say “either that, or he’ll die.” But I wouldn’t die, I would just consume and consume. Eventually, my owners money would start running dry. They would have to move out as my appetite grew. But I wouldn’t mind, all I wanted was bananas. Eventually, they couldn’t afford a home at all and they had to move to a large junkyard where they slept by snuggling me for warmth. It was in this junkyard that I would spend the entirety of my days, consuming more and more bananas. I would grow and grow till I was 8 feet tall. Then 10 feet. Then 20 feet.

Eventually, my owners would run out of money. “Please,” they would say “please buttons” (buttons would be my name of course) “We can’t get you any more bananas, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” but that would not sway me, and in a fit of rage I would swallow my owners whole. Then, I would make my way South, stopping at grocery stores to get my fill of bananas. I would sleep seldomly, with my only stops being to consume more bananas. I would run and run till I arrived in Costa Rica. 

Oh, what a sight that would be. A group of poor Costa Rican banana farmers toiling away, when suddenly from the horizon appears a 25 foot tall Corgi. “?Que Carajo?!” They would say “!El Perro Es Gigantesco!”

Then I would snarl and they would run away in fright and I would gourge myself on the bananas. I would gorge myself on all of the bananas that Costa Rica had to offer till I was 40 foot tall. I would indulge myself ina  feat of bananas never seen before and then eventually the government would hear of this and they would be enraged! They would send helicopters to shoot me down but I would bat them out of the sky. They would tanks and planes and all sorts of weapons of war but I would squanch them without hesitation. 

Eventually, the american banana companies would get worried, because their sales were dropping, so they would lobby for something to happen. They would obviously be successful, and then for the first time in history the united states government would declare war on a single dog. They would send the finest weapons that the world had to offer, all sorts of fighter jets and helicopters. They would send wave after wave after squandron of men and machines armed to the teeth. They would launch missiles and drop bombs and rain down everything they could on me save for a nuclear bomb. They would throw all of their military might at me, but they would fail. 

 At this point I would have become almost a hundred feet tall. I would tower over buildings and skyscrapers. People all over the world would begin to worship me as a god. The banana workers of Costa Rica who had slaved for so long began to see me as a savior, someone who had come down to rid themself of the oppressive yoke of the banana industry. But, I would be no savior, I would just be one big corgi that wanted bananas.

I would gorge myself on all of the bananas that Costa Rica had to offer, until there was no more. Then, I would move to Nicaragua, then to Honduras, then to Belize,then back to Nicaragua, then to El Salvador, then back to Costa Rica, then to Panama. I would scour my way through all of Latin America, devouring every bananas I saw till I was 150 feet tall and growing.

Eventually, the U.S. government would have no other option then to build a giant robotic mecha corgi.

This mecha corgi would be deployed, with some sort of trained pilot inside and me and this mecha would have the fight of the century- possible even the decade. We would pounce and fight and tear at each others throats- and then- we would lock eyes and something would take over me. Something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. My owners had previously neutered me but all of my banana eating had them grow back. Next you knew, the mecha would become pregnant with my son- a half corgi- half mecha corgi. A cycorg, if you will. 

But, I would not be around to see his birth, because I left my mecha girlfriend. I loved her, but I loved bananas more and so I left. I journeyed to Colombia and Venezuela and all throughout South America, always on the hunt for bananas, no amount of that sweet yellow fruit could ever quinch my eternal hunger.

The U.S. government would send more mechs after me, and I had some close encounters but, whenever things got to bad I would run. Eventually, things got so serious that I had to dog paddle my way to Africa. Thankfully, I managed to end up in Cote D’Iviore which was a country that the U.S. didn’t have any treaty or whatever with. I was safe. I gouged myself on bananas for many years sometimes I would think about that one true love I had, but my bananas kept me destracted. I didn’t even know that I had a son, or that he was growing up in a  secure facility in Nevada.

I grew and grew. At first, the government tried to stop me, but then they stopped. Eventually, they started to like me, they would bring me bananas and in return I increased tourism by 2,000%. In fact, I actually helped the economy of Cote D’Iviore. This allowed for many schools and hospitals to be buildt, massive reforms were passed in the government, infrastructure improved massively. Eventually, Cote D’Iviore became one of the most successful countries in the world and all it took was one giant dog. 

People would come from all over the world to see me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was bananas. When I wasn’t eating bananas I was sleeping or killing people who were trying to kill me. Sometimes I would eat them, but people didn’t taste as good as bananas.

Cote D’Iviore started to run out of bananas so they had to ask Ghana and Cameroon for help in exchange for economy. This eventually lead to all three countries becoming one country, and this country became a prosperous nation. I quickly became the national animal of this nation. I was on the state flag and all of the coinage. Massive statues were buildt of me and the countries name was Terre De Chien Geant (land of the big dog). I payed no notion to this. After all, I was a dog and I didn’t even understand politics. All I understand was bananas. And now, the country was working very hard to get me as much bananas as I could eat because the tourism money was huge. I feasted on bananas until I became 400 feet tall. 

However, across the sea storm clouds were brewing. The United States government had no interest in killing me anymore. However, my Cycorg son was a rarity and of great interest to them. They figured that they could use him as a weapon to take on foreign threats. They got people to pilot him. I don’t know how it worked but the Cycorg needed a pilot.

Many years passed. Eventually, I grew till I was almost a thousand feet tall. My Cycorg son did the same. 

What happens next? Find out next time on my deranged ramblings!

[orangeoctopi7]

Champions

I know I already posted something for the last week of @stanuary but that was sort of a place-holder for this. I’ve been sick on-and-off for the last month or so, so I wasn’t sure if I’d finish this in time. I did get time to work on it the other day while I was at work.

This is a crossover with Atop the Fourth Wall’s Contest of Champions, but you don’t need any prior knowledge of AT4W to understand what’s happening. I’m just borrowing a concept, really. (Although I do want to do a second chapter where Stan interacts with those characters)

***

Stan was awoken in the middle of the night by one of Ford’s alarms going off. He groggily sat up as his brother jumped out of his own hammock and dashed to the controls, muttering curses under his breath the whole way.

“Wazzat?” Stan groaned.

“An extradimensional portal just opened up aboard the Stan'o'war! But my sensors aren’t picking up any foreign lifeforms. Whatever it was must also have access to time travel. It must have paused time, entered our dimension, done whatever it was trying to do, and then left before restoring the flow of time.”

“Y'sure your nerd gadgets aren’t just broken?” Stan asked, reaching sleepily for his glasses on the bedside cabinet. He felt around, but instead of the thin plastic frames, he felt a heavy sheet of parchment.

“Yes, I’m sure! Now keep a close eye out for anything out of place! Just because I don’t detect any lifeforms doesn’t mean they couldn’t have left a robot or a bug.”

“Uh, Ford? I think I found what they left.”

Stan finally put his glasses on and looked down at the parchment he’d found. It was the same size as a normal 8.5" by 11" printer paper, but the parchment felt much fancier, like something the Northwests would use for an invitation. Which was exactly what it was.

STANLEY PINES

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO THE 1049th INTERDIMENSIONAL

CONTEST OF CHAMPIONS

SPEAK ALOUD YOUR ACCEPTANCE AND DETAILS WILL FOLLOW

CONGRATULATIONS, CHAMPION.

“What the…?” Stan muttered, turning the page over to look for more info, but it was blank. “Ford, are you tryin’ to pull some sorta prank? If so, I don’t get your humor at all.”

Ford silently read the invitation over his brother’s shoulder, before snatching it away. “This has to be counterfeit. I know you destroyed Bill, but that’s not… that doesn’t make you… does it?”

“Seriously, Ford, what is this?” Stan asked impatiently.

Ford took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts, before answering. “To put it in your terms, Stan, the Contest of Champions is like an interdimensional boxing tournament, only instead of just boxing, the Champions can choose any kind of contest they want.”

“Champions?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know, I bet this thing will do a much better job of explaining.” He held up the invitation like it was a phone and he was having a video-chat. “We’d like the Terms and Conditions, please.”

Nothing happened.

“Of course, I wasn’t invited.” Ford rolled his eyes and handed the paper back to Stan. “You have to ask it.”

Stan held the paper out like he’d seen Ford doing. “Uh… can you explain this whole thing to me?” He awkwardly addressed the invitation.

With nothing more than a bright flash of light, a figure in dark robes appeared. They looked like they might be human, but every part of them was covered, from their closed hood to their gloved hands.

“Sweet Moses!” Stan shouted in surprise, winding up to punch the intruder.

“Relax, it’s just a hologram recording.” Ford reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

“The interdimensional Contest of Champions is a tournament.” The hologram began, “Within every parallel reality, there are figures best suited to defend those realities. These individuals are referred to as Champions. The hosts for this contest, the Temlins, have elected to hold a tournament to judge their respective skills against one another. Participants are randomly selected across all realities and invitations are sent. You are under no obligation to join this great tournament, but should you enter, you will be granted the opportunity to test your abilities against other powerful individuals and make an attempt at a great prize. All battles are non-lethal and participation is voluntary. Should you remain victorious through all of your battles, you will be awarded this great prize. Defeat brings only as much dishonor as you allow yourself. If you have any further questions, you may ask now.”

“Wow, that’s quite the schpiel you got there.” Stan grunted. He turned to his brother. “So, let me get this straight. I can’t die, and I get to fight a buncha space dorks for some fancy prize? Sounds like a good time to me!”

“It’s a lot more complex than that.”

“What, you been in one of these things?”

“No, but I watched the coverage of one during my interdimensional travels. I should warn you, they take forever. Since it covers multiple dimensions and timelines, it can be really stretched out. I saw the beginning of the 1018th tournament while I was in the Bubble Dimension, by the time it finally finished, I was in the Flying Whale Dimension, six years later.”

“Well, do I haffta wait on their planet, or somethin’ or can I just go about life as normal?”

Ford shrugged.

“Between rounds, Champions are allowed to prepare as they see fit.” The hologram answered. “The Temlins are aware of the great temporal differences between participating dimensions. Champions are encouraged to continue their normal lives if at all possible while waiting for the next round.”

“Ok. And how do these battles work?”

“From what I remember, one of the contestants gets to choose the contest.”

“For each round, one of the two Champions is selected at random. They must set a battle that is fair to both parties, with a reasonable chance that either could win. The conditions of the battle must be agreed upon by both parties, and approved by the Temlins.”

“So, I just gotta bribe the right people, and make sure I get to pick the challenge. Dirty boxing, or, I dunno, a The Dutchess Approves trivia quiz.”

“Stanley, I’d advise against mentioning bribery in front of the recording device.” Ford scolded him. “And besides, the Temlins are all-powerful beings. I very much doubt you have anything that would interest them.”

“Well, what’ve I got to lose, right? I’ll give it a shot.”

“Stanley, wait, let’s think about this first! I don’t trust the Temlins. That much power, and they use it to host a tournament!? Why couldn’t they have done something about Bill, why couldn’t they use that power to stop injustice across the multiverse?”

Stan gasped in mock surprise. “What!? You don’t trust somebody? That’s never happened before! Whatever will I do with this new, vital information?”

“Stanley, I’m serious!”

“C'mon Ford, the man says it’s voluntary. If things get sketchy, I’ll quit! ‘Snot like I expect to win this thing. Think of it this way, I get to fight crazy space guys. You get to study whatever crazy space guys they send our way, and maybe if I get really lucky, I win some fancy sci-fi prize.”

Ford sighed. “I’ll admit, that does sound tempting.”

“Great, cuz I’m doin’ it!” Stan turned back to the hologram. “I, uh, speak aloud my acceptance, or however this works.”

“Welcome, Stanley Pines, to the Contest of Champions.”

“Great. So now what?”

“Preliminary round begins now.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your opponent is Ace Corgi, Attorney at Paw. Battlefield has been selected as Stanley Pines’”

“Ford, you said these things take forever!”

“Well I never saw anything about a preliminary round on the broadcast!”

Another brilliant flash filled the cabin. The hologram had disappeared, and in its place was a stout dog with pointy ears and a steel-gray coat. It looked just as surprised as they were. Ford’s alarms started again.

“Oh, are we starting now?” It asked in a deep voice that belied its small size.

“Aw, lookit the cute talking dog!” Stan cooed.

“That must be the Champion from the Corgi Dimension!”

“There’s a Corgi Dimension!?”

“Yes, but last I heard, the Champion of the Corgi Dimension was Atticus.”

“Oh, He retired just last year.” The small dog explained. “Now, which one of you humans is my opponent?”

Stan raised his hand.

“Thank you. Now have at thee!”

The dog lunged without warning, going straight for Stan’s knees.

“What the H!?” Stan shouted as he nearly toppled to the ground. His first instinct was to dropkick the animal, but he knew Mabel would never forgive him for doing such a thing to a cute dog, even if it was in self defense. Luckily, he knew a thing or two about dealing with rowdy dogs from his time pug trafficking. He grabbed it by the scruff of the neck, doing his best to avoid the snapping jaws, and forced the dog onto its back.

“A little help here?” He yelled to Ford as he struggled to keep the wiggling dog still.

The old scientist held his hands up. “I’m not allowed to interfere.”

The dog took advantage of Stan’s split attention and squirmed out of his grasp.

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Stan shouted as the corgi chased him up onto the deck.

“I’m not being a jerk, it’s the rules!” Ford called after him.

Stan at least had the presence of mind to grab his boots and his coat as he dashed for the stairs. Luckily, the steps slowed his stubby-legged pursuer down, and he was able to actually put them on.

“You cur! Your giant ledges won’t be enough to stop me!" 

"What the heck, I thought we had to both agree on the battle first!?”

“That’s what I thought too, but it seems the Temlins get to decide the battle for the preliminary round. I suppose it saves time.” The dog replied as it hopped up the last step.

What the heck am I supposed to do!? Stan wondered to himself. I’m not gonna punch a little dog!

He ran around the deck a couple of times, trying to tire the little guy out, but the dog had boundless energy, and it’s fur coat was obviously better at keeping the cold out than Stan’s cotton one. Finally, his eyes caught sight of the net he and Ford used to catch specimens for his brother’s research. Perfect!

Out-maneuvering a herding dog was a challenge, but in the end he managed. After all, corgis were bred to herd large groups of sheep, not one cunning old man. Once Stan grabbed the net, he tossed it over his opponent, tangling up its little legs almost instantly. The dog continued to squirm, attempting to wiggle its way out once again. When this proved futile, it started to gnaw on the cables of the net.

“Yeah, good luck, Bucko.” Stan chuckled. “That net’s meant for things way bigger and more magical than you.”

“Preliminary round has ended. The victor is Stanley Pines.” The hologram appeared again in a flash of light. “You are both Champions worthy of being in this great tournament. Now you must await your summoning for the first true round. Information and dossiers about the other participants will be made available to you soon, relative to your own universe’s timescale. Welcome, once again, to the Contest of Champions.”

With that, the hologram disappeared again.

“Good show, human!” The dog barked happily. “Will you please let me out now?”

“Oh, right.” Stan pulled the net away. “Not that it’s any of my business, but if I can beat you, ya might not last many rounds in this tournament.”

“Oh, this dog still has a few tricks. I don’t want to show all my best moves before we’ve even begun!”

“Good point. Hey, before ya go, would it be too much to ask for a picture? My niece would really love you.”

“But of course!”

“Hey Ford, get up here!” Stan called down the stairs to the cabin.

“I told you, I can’t help during the match!”

“It’s already over, genius! We’re takin’ a commemorative photo! Bring up the camera!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #atop the fourth wall #Stanley Pines #Stanuary 2020 #Fight #my writing