#and NEITHER of them can get to the ending they want?

[spicyycarrot]

back in S1 I really gave the writers the benefit of the doubt, choosing to believe they weren't libs or centrists. that they didn't really think Vander collaborating with cops was good for Zaun, that they knew characters like Jinx aren't fundamentally broken and irredeemable but a result of trauma caused by systemic oppression.

I believed they knew about and understood real life systems of oppression but very cleverly and subtly told their story, trying not to spoon-feed the audience & shove political messages down anyone's throats.

but then season 2 being so rushed and fast-paced really showed me where their priorities lied, what they chose to focus on and it wasn't insightful social commentary or exploration of any character's psyche or whatnot (aside from ep 7 which was peak) - it felt like they were trying to elicit emotional responses out of the audience more than anything. Isha gets introduced and oh I'm sure they'll subvert expectations and keep her alive & give Jinx hope that she can change for the better and isn't a Jinx to the people she lov- oh nvm Isha's dead. oh Vi has a mental breakdown after betraying everything she once stood for, becoming an enforcer and subsequently falling into a depression & self-harming for possibly months, I'm sure they'll explore this inner conflict in more detail after this montage- nvm it's LITERALLY JUST THE ONE MONTAGE? ok this Maddie girl is sleeping with Caitlyn but she doesn't seem to have any logical reason or motivation to betray he- never fucking mind??? I guess there was just no reason?????

whenever I thought they'd subvert expectations, they just kept doing the most. fucking. obvious. thing. it felt like the writers were constantly really insecurely asking me "are you crying yet????🥺🥺🥺 isn't this sad omg🥺🥺😭💔💔 ARE YOU CRYING??? OMG THE ANGST🥺 TRAUMA🥺🥺🥺"

it felt like they were very trying way too hard and trying intentionally to replicate S1's organic feeling of loss, longing for "what could've been", palpable and relatable pain, empathy for fleshed-out and human characters.

and also, whenever something kinda obvious would've made SENSE, they didn't do it. e.g. Vi & Jinx reconciling in the end would've made for such a beautiful finale where the story comes full-circle, but they chose not to do that because framing their relationship as "doomed" is more tragic😔💔 I guess? despite the fact that we see them getting along like they used to and Jinx saying "I'm always with you, sis", they still make her (supposedly) stand between Vi and her happiness so they make Jinx, the suicidal character, fucking FAKE HER DEATH??

hey remember in S1 Act1 that one scene where Vi & Powder look at the skyline and Vi says "one day, this city's gonna respect us" and in that moment it feels hugely impactful and like it's setting up something important for later down the line and then NOTHING EVER COMES OF IT? by the end of S2, the former GOAT Vi is washed and a lapdog to her oppressors and Jinx is branded an irredeemable terrorist and as far as anyone knows, she died as such.

the creators/writers have always said they knew from the beginning how they wanted the story to end but I find it hard to believe this is the exact outcome they wanted. Arcane was always the story of two sisters in conflict, framed by a larger conflict between the Sister Cities. neither of those stories felt like they came to a satisfying resolution or natural conclusion. S2 abandoned the heart of the story in favor of the eponymous "Arcane" storyline and you can really tell that it made this season weaker.

what makes this all particularly upsetting to me is that I expected better of Arcane of all shows. I guess it's on me for having such high expectations but I wish season 2 hadn't been as disappointing as it was.

No actually I need to add on more to this. Arcane very unfortunately suffers the same issue that a lot of "progressive" shows suffer in Western media, where they go like "here are some real, systemic issues that exist and look at the consequences of these issues", and then either (1) forget to continue with the theme, and/or (2) don't do anything about it beyond slap on a half-hearted Band-Aid solution that never addresses it.

Caitlyn gassing civilians; lack of accessibility for Viktor which created barriers for him due to his disability; enforcers as oppressors, going hand in hand with Noxian imperialism; Jayce weaponzing hextech, and him already having killed a child because of it; not a single moment is really spent on any of these in S2. If anything, the enforcers are really flattened at the end of this season with little nuance, the complexity that shone in characters like Marcus and Grayson disappearing. Many Piltovan characters do not get even a single second of introspection as to how their actions actively contribute to the oppression of Zaun.

[writingwithciara]

blinking lights -quinn hughes-

summary: with planes grounded for the holiday due the snow storm, y/n & quinn are forced to spend christmas together. but oddly enough, neither of them seem to mind much

word count: 3.4k

pairing: quinn hughes x roommate!reader

note: i LOVE writing roommate quinn honestly

"i'm sorry mom. i won't be able to make it home this year. all flights out of vancouver are cancelled." y/n looked at the website opened on her laptop. her mom was sighing on the other end of the line. "i know. i'm sorry. but i should be able to visit in the new year. i promise."

"it's okay honey. i'm just glad that you'll be safe." her mom sighed again. "are your roommates stranded too?"

"i'm not sure. quinn left earlier to catch a flight so it's a possibility."

"well for you sake, i hope you're not alone for the holidays."

"i hope so too, mom." y/n looked up when the door opened. "gotta go, mom. quinn's home."

"okay sweetie. i'll call you tomorrow."

"alright. sounds good. love you."

as y/n hung up, quinn sat next to her on the couch.

"no luck?"

"unfortunately." y/n sighed and closed her laptop. "i'm guessing the same goes for you?"

"yeah. it kinda sucks. it's the first christmas i won't be able to see my family."

"at least neither of us will be alone this year."

"fair point." quinn chuckled and turned on the tv. "what should we watch?"

"frosty the snowman. always makes me feel better."

"got it." quinn smiled and put the movie on. he glanced around the bare apartment. "since we'll both be here for christmas, why don't we decorate? we can also combine traditions and do them together."

"i guess it beats sitting in an empty apartment. we definitely need some christmas spirit in this place."

"strongly agree. we'll go out tomorrow to get some decorations and we'll make a day of decorating and traditions."

"alright." y/n turned her attention to the tv screen. "my mom is supposed to call me tomorrow and she may want to talk to you."

"why?"

"i don't know. i suppose it's because i talk about you a lot but i think she's not sure if you're a guy or a girl. never really specified, honestly." she smiled. "i'm only telling you now so you're not completely shocked when she calls."

"alright." he smiled. "should i expect any questions?"

"she'll probably asked why i'm living with you and stuff like that."

"okay. i think i can handle it." quinn smiled.

after the movie, they both went to their rooms to get some sleep. decorating their apartment was going to be a huge task but if anyone could do it, it's y/n & quinn.

the next morning, y/n woke up early and sent her mom a text.

hey mom. i'm going shopping with quinn today and we're gonna be decorating our apartment after. i'll call you later, alright? love you <3

the second she heard quinn moving around in his room, she smiled and put on a pot of coffee. y/n watched him walk into the kitchen slowly. he smiled at her and sat at the counter.

"ready to shop for decorations today?"

"you bet." y/n smiled and poured them each a cup of coffee. she was excited to spend more time with quinn than she was used to. for the past 3 years, she had been harboring a crush on her roommate but the timing to tell him was never right. he was almost always in a relationship and his girlfriends barely liked her. they tolerated her, at best. and that was why she didn't spend a whole lot of time with him.

when the time came, quinn drove them to the seasonal store downtown. they went their separate ways once inside so they could get the decorations faster and have more time putting everything up.

while walking down the 'gifts for her' aisle, quinn saw something on the shelf that he knew y/n would love. it was so perfectly her that he just couldn't pass it up. he couldn't help the way his heart beat faster just thinking of what her reaction would be. he was so far gone for her but didn't want to risk pushing her away. especially not when she was finally spending time with him again.

it took 20 minutes to get everything and quinn insisted on paying for everything. he didn't y/n to see the gift he was getting her.

when they got home, quinn quickly hid the gift in his room, deciding he would wrap it tonight and give it to her in the morning. by the time he made it back to the living room, y/n had all the decorations sorted out in piles based on each room they were going to work on.

"so i figured you could get started in the kitchen while i worked out here. fair warning, i may need your help after."

"then why don't we work together?" he chuckled. "wouldn't that make more sense?"

"well i was going to play christmas music and when i dance, it looks weird."

"i highly doubt that." he smiled. "i've seen you dance before."

"that was always choreographed or because i was drunk. but i'm sober and don't want to make a fool of myself."

"y/n, i don't think you're capable of doing such a thing. just let me help you out here."

"alright, fine. but no judging me on my dance moves, hughes."

"i would never." quinn smiled and grabbed a box of lights. he grabbed the necessary items to get started while y/n put some music on the speaker. "wanna start on opposite ends and meet in the middle?"

"yes sir." y/n grabbed the other decorations and went across the room. halfway through the 3rd song, quinn was done hanging lights. he turned to look at y/n. she was dancing and in her own little world and quinn couldn't help but admire her more. how could she think she'd look like a fool? he thought she was beautiful and one day, he was going to get the courage to tell her.

when y/n turned around to grab something, she noticed quinn staring at her. it suddenly made her self conscious. "what?"

"nothing. i was just watching you dance."

"oh. i'm sorry about that. i told you i looked like a fool when i dance sober."

"quite the opposite actually. it was pretty cute." he chuckled and headed to the kitchen to start decorating, leaving y/n to stare with red cheeks.

it took her a minute to follow but when she finally got to the kitchen, quinn was already halfway through decorating.

"wow. you work fast." y/n smiled and instead of offering to help, she just leaned against the counter and watched him.

"yeah. sorry about that. i just couldn't help myself. i know you wanted to help with the decorating."

"no. it's perfectly fine. i like observing." y/n smirked and pulled out a mug. she poured herself some hot chocolate and sipped it while quinn went back to work. while he worked, y/n climbed onto the counter and smiled. this was the perfect way to admire quinn without feeling too guilty.

by the time quinn was finished, y/n had a mug of hot chocolate made for him. when she handed it to him, their fingers brushed against each other, causing y/n to draw her hand back quickly. the moment was interrupted when y/n's phone was ringing. she glanced down at the caller id.

"it's my mom." y/n showed him the phone and hit the 'accept' button. her moms face filled the screen in seconds. "hey mom."

"hey sweetie. how's your day?"

"it's good. quinn and i have been decorating for an hour. the place looks amazing. wanna see it?"

"in a minute. i want to meet your roommate."

y/n looked up and held the phone out to quinn. he took it and moved to stand beside y/n so they'd both be on the screen.

"hi. it's nice to finally meet you."

"oh my. you're certainly not what i was expecting."

"y/n informed me that you would say something like that." he smiled.

"how's it going, living with my baby?"

"mom!" y/n turned her face into quinn's shoulder while he chuckled.

"it's great. we're having the best time." he couldn't stop smiling. y/n's head fit perfectly in his shoulder. it was like a dream come true to have her this close. "she's amazing and probably my best friend."

"i'm glad she has such a good friend, honestly. i was so worried about her."

"you don't have to worry about her now. she's in good hands." he chuckled and threw his arm around y/n's shoulder. she grabbed the phone from him and smiled.

"alright. we gotta finish decorating. i'll talk to you later. bye mom. i love you."

"bye you guys. love you too."

after she hung up, y/n turned to quinn. "i'm your best friend, huh?"

"yeah, actually." he turned to stand across from her. "and it kind of hurt when you distanced yourself a little bit over the last 2 years. thought it was something i did. but i'm really glad you're coming back around."

"yeah i'm sorry about that. but none of your girlfriends liked me so i thought it'd be easier for your relationships if i wasn't around a whole lot."

"why didn't they like you?"

"i don't know." y/n shrugged and turned to refill her mug. "but for the record, you're my best friend too."

"glad to hear it." quinn smiled slightly before walking out to the living room. although he had just called her his best friend, he didn't like hearing the word come from her mouth.

"quinn," y/n called out after him as she followed him into the living room. "i'm never going to distance myself from you again, okay? it was hurting me too."

"i'm sorry you felt like you had to give me space. and i'm really sorry they didn't like you. i don't understand why they didn't. you're one of the most likeable people i know."

"i try to be. and i don't understand why they didn't. but it's all in the past and i've learned from my mistakes." y/n sat and looked at him. "i can never stay away from you, quinn. it'll probably kill me."

"well i'm glad you're sticking around because it would probably kill me too, if i'm being honest." he turned to face her and smiled. "so, are there any traditions you have with your family that we can do tonight?"

"my mom and i usually bake cookies and eat some random take-out while watching home alone or how the grinch stole christmas. but we don't have to do that."

"why not? it sounds like fun."

"you'd really want to bake cookies with me?" y/n's eyes widened and she couldn't help the way her smile grew.

"of course. if it makes you happy, then i'll do anything."

y/n tried to ignore the way her heart wanted to beat out of her chest. never in her life had she met a guy so willing to do anything she had asked. it took everything in her not to launch herself across the couch and kiss him. she had to keep reminding herself that they were just friends.

while they baked cookies, both of them enjoyed the closeness of the other. side by side and covered in flour. usually, quinn hated messes but with y/n, he didn't care.

when they put the cookies in the oven, quinn wiped his hands on a towel.

"i'm gonna go take a shower. you order dinner and pick out the movie. i'll be out in a bit." quinn didn't wait for her to reply. he just headed into the bathroom to shower. he spent half an hour in their and when he got out to get dressed, he realized that with his quick exit, he forgot to grab a new shirt from his room. the one he was wearing was covered in flour but luckily the rest of his clothes were fine. he put on his shorts and walked out into the hallway.

y/n looked up from the couch and watched quinn walk into his room. she only got a brief look at him but she was still speechless, regardless of having seen him without a shirt many times. she quickly turned her attention to the tv when he came walking back out to join her on the couch.

"food should be here in 10 minutes and i decided to go with home alone this year. is that okay?"

"it's perfect." quinn smiled and threw his arm around the back of the couch. the couch was big enough for at least 7 people but they were sitting on the same cushion. not close enough to be touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of each other. and every few seconds, quinn's thumb would rub against y/n's shoulder. but neither of them seemed to care.

when the food arrived, quinn went to grab it. and when he sat back down, he was closer to y/n than before. as they ate, y/n tried not to focus on the closeness of her best friend. it was hard but she was able to do it.

until he swung his arm back over the couch. he may as well have just placed it across her shoulder with the way his hand was resting there. as they watched the movie, quinn had moved his arm down to where it was actually resting across y/n. she looked at him with an innocent smile, which he adored, then went back to watching the rest of the movie.

when the movie was finally over, y/n stood up and stretched. "well i'm gonna get ready for bed."

"before you do, i was wondering if you wanted to take part in one of my family's traditions."

"it's not going to be something weird, is it?"

"no." he smiled. "unless you count wearing matching pajamas to bed on christmas eve."

"oh my gosh. my family does the same thing." y/n giggled. "wait, do we have matching pajamas?"

"yeah. i bought them a few days ago and was intending to give you a pair before i left for the holidays but i guess it was just meant to happen this way. be right back." quinn smiled and ran to his room. he returned seconds later with the pjs. "i hope you like them."

"they're a gift from you, quinn. i always like those." y/n smiled and headed into her room to change. quinn did the same and they managed to come out at the same time. all he could so was admire the way the clothes fit y/n perfectly. "how did you know my size?"

"because i know you." quinn chuckled, not wanting to admit it was because he stared at her so long that he memorized everything.

"you're the most perfect roommate, quinn." she smiled and threw her arms around him. "thank you."

he immediately hugged her back. "you're welcome."

"okay. well it's bed time now. i'll see you in the morning. good night quinn." y/n ran off the her room to try to get some sleep. but she knew that would be impossible, due to the overwhelming attraction she was feeling. if she didn't tell quinn soon, her emotions were going to shut her down.

as quinn sat at the desk in his room, he couldn't stop thinking about how excited y/n had been when she came out in the pjs. he had seen her happy many times but there was just something different this time.

he wrapped her gift neatly and set it down beside his bed. it was going to be the first thing he grabbed in the morning and he hoped she would love it as much as he loved her.

when the sun rose the next morning, quinn grabbed the box and headed out to the kitchen. y/n was normally a morning person so he was surprised that she hadn't woken up yet. he set the box on the counter and began making coffee. just as he was adding the finishing touches to y/n's coffee, she walked out of her room.

"good morning, quinn."

"good morning, y/n" he smiled and handed her the coffee. when she took a sip, her whole body instantly warmed up.

"this is the best coffee i've ever tasted. thank you." she grinned and continued to drink it as they both made their way onto the couch.

"so what else does your family do for christmas?"

"we stay in our pjs all day and spend time together. it's pretty boring but if you're around the right people, you can have the best time."

"well then that's exactly what we will do today." quinn smiled. "oh, before i forget, i have a present for you. close your eyes." he got off the couch and grabbed the gift from the kitchen before returning. "i hope you like it."

y/n unwrapped it carefully and opened the box. she pulled out a teddy bear with a canucks jersey on. and not just any jersey. a demko jersey. he even came with mini goalie pads and a helmet.

"i know how much you love thatcher so when i saw this, i just knew i had to get it for you."

"i love it so much. thank you, quinn." y/n set the bear down and hugged quinn. "i didn't get you anything. i'm sorry."

"it's alright. you being here is enough of a present for me." he rubbed her back and smiled. when y/n pulled back a little, her whole expression had changed. she was still happy but there were tears in her eyes.

"i appreciate that, quinn. but i feel like it's just not enough to make you truly happy."

"y/n, you're more than enough. you are the perfect gift."

y/n smiled and placed her lips on his. he was shocked at first and just as y/n was about to break the kiss, quinn pulled her closer and kissed her back. they stayed in that position for a few minutes before either one of them wanted to let go. when they separated, quinn rested his forehead against y/n's and smiled.

"if i had known that would be the outcome, i would've told you those words a long time ago." he smiled and held her face. "i've been wanting to say it for as long as i've known you but the timing was never right. you had steven and i had my own relationships. but i guess that's kind of a cowards excuse, huh?"

"nothing about you says 'coward', quinn." y/n smiled and closed her eyes. "you're the most kind, patient and sweetest man i've ever known in my life. these last 3 years of random relationships and hook-ups have all brought us to this exact moment. the moment where i can finally tell you that i've had the biggest crush on you for the past 3 years. i know it sounds insane but i like you a lot quinn. and maybe that's why your girlfriends were always jealous. they could probably tell how i felt and they didn't want me around to screw up their chances with you. that's why i had to keep a distance from you. i didn't want to have to make you choose between me and them because it would've been a losing battle for me."

"if that had ever happened, you would've won every single time. i never really cared about all those other girls. the only one that matters to me, is you. and i hope i conveyed that well enough in that kiss."

"seems pretty evident now." y/n smiled and finally opened her eyes. "guess that was kind of stupid of me, wasn't it?"

"not at all." quinn smiled. "like you said, the last 3 years of random relationships have brought us to this moment right here. the most perfect moment." he placed a kiss on her lips again but didn't give her enough time to reciprocate. "i love you, y/n. everything about you is so perfect and it's been driving me crazy for 3 years."

"i can't believe that the planes being grounded are the reason we're here together."

"me either. but i wouldn't change it for anything."

"i wouldn't either." y/n leaned up to kiss him again. "for the record, i love you too."

[slushfaerie]

okay so…fratboy!patrick...

(truly my beloved. from this post ! stoner!art coming soon. filth below the cut)

you meet in a random discussion section for one of your sophomore english classes. get assigned to peer review each other's papers. he’s a sweetheart on the down low.

he’s one of those frat boys that shows up to your 8am section hungover or even still drunk with those fucking black sunglasses on. he talks about his conquests from the night before with his boys before class but still grabs you papers from the stack being passed around by the TA and hands them to you, your fingers brushing against his.

patrick invites you to the party at his frat house one week towards the end of the term, not thinking you'd show up. but he can't hold back a grin when he sees you walk up, pushing by the new pledge they'd made stand as a bouncer.

he watches you dance and take shots with your roommates and he can't keep his eyes off you..but he's just…surveying the party…that’s it.

patrick's the one who makes the announcement, “if you’re not a brother or with a brother, get the Fuck out.” to the whole party at the end of the night. 

when that one creepy brother approaches to try and hit on you, hoping to get lucky, patrick wraps his arm around you, making a show of whispering in your ear and taking too much pleasure in the way the creep’s face falls.

"wanna go to the roof? grab some air?" he pulls the cigarette from behind his ear with a grin.

as you climb the stairs to the rooftop of the frat house, patrick's hand wanders to land on your hip as he pulls you closer. he's crushed his 4th beer of the night and you'd taken shots and had some of the jungle juice. neither of you mind the way it feels, him so close to you.

you share a smoke on the roof and he makes you laugh, his smile lines illuminated by moonlight as he tries to insistently point out constellations in the light-polluted Palo Alto sky. you try to look away from him, stay detached, brush him off. but you can't help that he's funny.

despite your efforts to stay away, you can't help yourself. your night ends with his tongue down your throat. he tastes like beer and cigarettes and looks at you like he wants to ruin you, just so he can piece you back together. wants to have you all for himself. you can't resist his gravity.

patrick takes you to his messy room in the frat house, kissing you with wild lips and tongue against the door, air thick with tension, before peeling off your clothes.

he guides you to your elbows and knees, your hands gripping the soft fabric of the sheets on his unmade bed.

he places slow kisses up the skin of your back before teasing the seam of your cunt with the tip of his cock, laughing as you shudder for him.

“oh…you like that? tell me what else you want..”

you’re practically putty in his hands, making all kinds of noises, trying to get him to stop teasing.

patrick can’t hold back his “fuck, baby…” as he finally enters you.

as he fucks you from behind, his hand reaches around from where it rested on your hip to rub your clit with his fingers almost sweetly, the gesture a stark contrast to the brutal way he was taking you.

patrick gives you a smirk as he continues to fuck into you. you look up to his eyes meeting yours in the reflection of his closet door mirror.

"god, look how pretty you are."

he gives your ass a spank before thrusting all the way in, tonguing your neck before he leans down, his chest molding to your back as he presses you down into the bed, impossibly deeper inside you.

"you're squeezing the hell out of me, y'know that?" he whispers in your ear as he covers your hand with his.

"can't believe this pretty little pussy..taking me so good..”

guess you're with a brother now.

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[flameswallower]

For the decade between my conscious realization that I was probably trans, or wanted to transition (circa age 17, around 2006), and the time I actually, seriously began coming out to people in my real life and taking steps to transition in my real life (age 28, in late 2017 and early 2018), there are two things I really wanted and needed to hear from out trans people. I heard them a couple of times, but probably not enough in the face of all the directly contradictory messages I was also getting— I think hearing this stuff consistently online and in IRL queer spaces could have cut those ten years in half, at least.

The first is, you know, “you are already on hormones and you find them rather suboptimal. do you feel like you’re not trans enough to need or deserve the type of HRT you want? well, that’s stupid. this should be a choice you can make freely for no reason other than that you want to. if you get the opportunity you should try it, no matter how your specific gender identity shakes out.”

The second is, “actually, you are meaningfully trans the second you declare your transness. that time you tried to get people to use they/them pronouns for you but almost everybody ignored the request or made it super clear they just saw you as your AGAB anyway? that sucked. the people you saw online saying you shouldn’t take certain non-medical steps to alter your appearance in a gendered way unless you were both ‘really trans’ and all the way out of the closet, or else you were trying to trick people and appropriating Something Important from the Actual, Out trans people? they were being stupid and narrow-minded, not to mention ignorant about the ways people tend to realize they are trans to begin with. If you say you are/want to be trans, I will support you in everything you want out of that even if it’s unconventional, or you do end up deciding against HRT/can’t take it, or you still ‘look like’ your AGAB to me, or you don’t pass as your actual gender well, or you still have to live publicly as your AGAB for a time, or or or…regardless, you are not some orphan who’s neither really trans nor really cis and accepted by cis people.”

I think these messages work really well together, and don’t contradict each other in any way. I also think they’re both going to become increasingly radical things to say over the next several years, at least in mixed company or to someone who is still closeted or mostly closeted.

It might be paranoid of me, but I have earnestly wondered whether some of the trans discourse that tries to pit “no-ho transition is a totally valid option that may interest you, and people who transition this way are (already) trans” against “HRT is great, if you think you want it you should try it if you can, informed consent is the way forward” is an op. It feels op-ish to me! It’s incredibly obvious that neither of these positions are remotely “truscummy,” since those are people who believe both that trans people who have “weird” genders and/or don’t medically transition are not “really” trans, AND that HRT should be heavily gatekept to prevent people who aren’t “really trans” or “trans enough” accessing it.

I think that saying "it's ok to be trans and not transition" is like saying "it's okay to be gay and not pursue gay relationships." like. it's obviously permissible, it is socially normative, it is the expectation placed on all people within society. Honestly, spreading "positivity" about not transitioning isn't even value neutral, I think it's outright transphobic.

[cherie-doll]

how do you think the cod men would react to you hiding an injury (from a mission) from them?

(annoyed i had a draft of this ready but my laptop decided to act up and i lost it, so i had to rewrite it again)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Hiding An Injury From Them

ઇଓ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

it wasn't until after the mission that he noticed you clutching your side, your hand curved protectively over the wound that was surely getting worse by the minute or so he feared

he insisted on taking you to the medic right away, and as you were being examined he stayed right outside the room, he really wished you had told him, he was captain so he had to know if one of his had been injured

you were left to rest but the next day he came back, when you awoke he was there by your bedside, "why didn't you tell me?"

he just wants you to know that you need to trust him, he's more worried than anything on why you didn't come to him, did you not trust him?

Ghost

while you were seeking shelter he noticed the way you limped, you hadn't said anything but anyone who looked at you could see how terribly you tried to hide your pain

he sighs and trudges towards you, as if annoyed he has to do this, but he takes you aside and has you show him the injury, it wasn't as bad as he thought it was which is why he's a little relieved

as he bandages you up he's mostly silent, he wanted to scold you, to say something to get this feeling off his chest but when you gasp in pain when his fingers apply too much pressure he can't bring himself to be annoyed at you

you're left feeling the phantom touch of his fingers and how he gentled when he saw you wince in pain

Soap

you two were almost always assigned together or ended up finding one another and watching each other's back, so you were always in his subconscious; he just couldn't let anything happen to you

yet, in the blink of an eye it had happened, you brushed it off as being just fine, that it was only the debris and nothing more, nothing vital had been hit

but when you went back to base and he didn't see you around for a couple of days and found out you had been sent to recovery he rushed to find you, "you told me you were fine!", and he's upset you weren't honest when he asked

you two were a team...always working together so he definitely gets cross about the matter for a little while afterwards but not for long because he's still checking up and asking how you're holding up

Gaz

when you were a rookie you went to him for almost everything, he was the one you felt safest with and he had treated you with the most respect even if you were still learning and made mistakes

so he couldn't help but feel forgotten or sidelined when you didn't tell him about your injury, in fact, you weren't planning on telling anyone because you didn't want to make a 'big deal' out of it, you had been doing so well and you didn't want anyone to know you had messed up

yet, he found you taking painkillers and stuffing rags of blood down to the bottom of the trashcan, "how long have you been covering this?!" as he rushed to take care of it for you

he was stunned to find out you had been trying to take care of it yourself, still he remained patient as he somewhat understand why you did it

Roach

he went into panic thinking something worse would happen if you didn't tell someone right away, but you tried to tell him it wasn't that bad as a knife was sticking out of your leg

neither of you knew what to do other than informing someone, as help was on the way he shushed you and was 'calming' you down when you weren't even showing distress

he loves being helpful when he can so he stuck around to see if there was anything you needed whether that be emotional support or medicine; he was ready to help

Alejandro

he'd mutter a few curses before ordering some soldiers around to get an emergency kit, you try to move into a more comfortable position but he scolds you to hold it, you're making it worse

"this is serious you idiot, stuff like this can't be held off until later" and he might go off into a long rant but really he's trying to distract his mind as he cleans your wound and wraps it

he implements a new rule; everyone must report what they're doing or what has happened to them at all times during a mission, doesn't matter if they're taking a dump or if they got a papercut they gotta report that too

really he's just worried you'll get hurt and he won't be there in time to aid you

Rudy

he's all over you, anxious and troubled that one, you were injured and second, you were intentionally hiding it from him! he's more disappointed than anything

"i'm so sorry, you'll be fine.. i promise" he comforts as you're being patched up and treated, it probably hurt him more than you but you swear he's being a little over the top

back at base, there is not a day that goes by without him coming by to see you and bringing something for you, he doesn't even get mad at you for trying to hide the injury from him, he most likely forgot

Phillip Graves

"no, no- fuck, why?!" he focused in on solely you when a soldier told him about the injury you were trying to hide, but he cares too much, and you've seen how he is with his Shadows, of course he wouldn't let something like this slip by him

doesn't matter if you can walk yourself but you're not doing anything without assistance anymore until you're completely healed, it's sort of heartwarming in a way

he makes it very clear that this doesn't happen again, and you think he's talking about the injury but no he's referring to you hiding that you're hurt, he doesn't mind offering help he just doesn't want you suffering in silence

Makarov

he can't help but feel guilty, he should've known the risk for sending you out there and now the result is you needing emergency care, thankfully you weren't in too much pain

still, to him this is very serious, "this is serious! tell me what happened, who did it?", he's ready to go out there and find the bastard who had the audacity to do this, but you tell him it was kind of your own fault because everything had gone well it was actually due to your clumsiness that you had stumbled and hurt yourself on the way back

he doesn't know if that's another lie but since you seem better now he'll take it

Keegan

you've seen how much he yells during missions, so you know you're in for a reprimand the moment he figures out you're hurt, it's just a matter of time until he notices

strangely, when he does notice the blood through your clothes his eyes only widen as he points out the stained cloth and then gets to work silently as he uncovers the wound

you nervously try to tell him it's not that bad and he shouldn't be fussing over it but he just rolls his eyes, "not that bad you say? are you even looking at it?"

yeah it was pretty bad

König

he gets nervous the moment you show the slightest sign of discomfort so it's no strange that you'd hide an injury he's surely freak out over, you just don't want to cause him to lose focus

little do you know, the other soldiers are his eyes and ears as they report to him your injuries, he comes and says it's best you go back to base a little earlier, you protest thinking it's not fair that the others have sustained worse injuries yet they still have to keep going forward with the mission

but he just wants to prevent you from getting hurt worse and being so far away from a medic who could treat you end up with terrible health complications

Horangi

you and him tended to play around during missions, as if not taking them seriously, until it resulted in you getting hurt, he went serious after that even though to tried brushing it off

he could see you tense up a bit, your body sensitive to the throbbing pain that was begging to be taken care of, you needed rest and you weren't going to give it what it needed, he really wished he could be more caring and nurturing in this moment

he can only tell you to breathe slowly, to focus on the stars above you right now and hope you got to a medic soon, he wants you to realize you're not fine and that this could have been prevented, if only he had been more on guard

Nikto

he's seen people get their arm blown off, maybe even lose a leg and he barely bats an eye at it, so why is he constantly looking over at you who seems to be suppressing pain?

to him if blood isn't noticeable then it's no reason for alarm, and even then a little blood never hurt anyone, but your throbbing pain only gets stronger and he can see it in your eyes, the desperation and how you wish you had painkillers right now

while everyone else is asleep he orders you to tell him what's hurting and he tries his best to take care of it, he's built a high pain tolerance over the years but will feel disquieted when you appear worn out

[notbecauseofvictories]

50/50

Well, 2024 sure did...happen.

Anyway! I didn't set any sort of goal to watch 50 films and read 50 books this year, but that's where I ended up. Neither number is exactly accurate, and I'm leaving out television, revisiting what I've already read/watched, and all the ridiculous novels I pick up when I'm hungover, but still. I'm kind of impressed with myself. I didn't get to 50 books last year, and I don't think I've watched 50 movies in a year ever---but the more I watch them, the more I explore what they can do and communicate, the more I want to see. As a lifelong reader, it's interesting to explore a new kind of art, to try and intuit your way in through a strikingly different form of communicating the exact same humanness.

TOP FIVE 2024

FILMS

The Florida Project (2017)

Crimes of the Future (2022)

M (1931)

Something in the Dirt (2022)

We’re All Going to the World’s Fair (2021)

It's been months and months since I saw The Florida Project, and I still think about it. The bright and artificial sherbet coloring of it; the dank and mold and shadows that linger around the edges....Actually, I think of all these films in terms of their aesthetics first. Not that there wasn't a story there, but because they all represent such a marriage with form. Consider Crimes of the Future with its fading decay, its browns and rust; M with its stylized, refined cityscape even in the greyscale of 30s cinema; Something in the Dirt where every shot is mundane, or fantastical or both; and We're All Going to the World's Fair, with the particular blue-grey loneliness of the internet age. Surely the benefit of watching a movie (as opposed to anything else) is being presented with something to watch, and I like when directors and creative teams understand that.

Honorable mention to American Psycho (2000) since I'm still a little insane about it---or maybe Corsage (2022) because whether or not it was a good movie, it was nevertheless the most uncompromising, brutal portrait of a historical figure I've seen.

BOOKS

The Rehearsal, Eleanor Catton

Big Swiss, Jen Beagin

Vintner's Luck, Elizabeth Knox

Wylding Hall, Elizabeth Hand

Diavola, Jennifer Thorne

Some people may try to tell you that horror is a discrete genre---I am here to tell you that it's not. All great novels are horror stories, and those listed above especially. From The Rehearsal's self-important artistes, to the therapy-speak Millennials of Big Swiss, to the musicians of Wylding Hall (who miss every sign that Something Is Happening) and the Pace family of Diavola (who deny that the signs mean anything, even after fleeing their vacation home in the night)....all these novels are a study in people experiencing something painful, even terrible. And yet, that provides incredibly fertile territory for their authors to explore the things that come with horror---complicity, desire for closeness, narration and performance, the open wound of family, the thin netting of modernity that keeps us from plunging into something older and darker than we can comprehend.

The only exception might be Vintner's Luck. Not because it's not there as a theme, but because the novel itself spans the narrator's life. By the time he's middle-aged he's committed so many errors, he can't judge too harshly when others do. In this respect it's almost an answer to the questions horror poses---not just how do you survive this? but how do you go on, having survived that?

Honorable mention to Dead Inside, by Chandler Morrison, because it was stomach-turning in the very best way. Echoes of Cipher by Kathe Koja---when an author really knows, really understands, how to wield grossness without shirking or apologizing for it, the result is delightful.

Books of 2020 | Books of 2021 | Books of 2022 | Books of 2023

[immobulusmalfoy]

Won't Say I'm in Love // Fred Weasley x F!Reader

Summary: In which the reader is best friends with the twins and they convince her to help them with something extra special for WWW. Warnings: Mentions of food and bodily harm, plus Umbridge. A/N: Look what I found in my drafts! A Freddie fic I forgot to post!

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

When you woke up Saturday morning after a seriously long week of classes, the first thing you wanted to hear was definitely not your name being yelled at top volume from a certain boisterous Weasley twin you happened to call your best friend.

“Fred, you better have a damn good reason for coming in here at this ungodly hour and waking me up with your screechy voice. And if you don’t shut it, I’m going to blast you with the nastiest hex I can think of,” you warned him without opening your eyes. You snuggled further into your pillows, but Fred snatched the blankets off your body.

“Wake up! I need your help with something.” Fred demanded.

“What the bloody hell do you want, Weasley? Can’t a girl get any sleep these days? I was dreaming,” you grumbled, body pulled into a ball to keep from freezing in the chilly air of the dorms. Fred groaned.

“You’re such a drama queen. I need your potions expertise.”

“Oh yeah?” You peered up at him, both eyes open, suddenly curious. “What for?”

“Y’know those Wonder Witch products you’ve been helping me and Georgie with? The secret ones even Granger and the rest don’t know about?” Fred started.

“You mean those ‘temporary’ love potions that took me two months to get right? The ones that you made me try and caused me to be in love with Lee for three miserable weeks before I figured out the issues? Those products?” you asked, embarrassed when you remembered what you had said and done during that time. It was mortifying.

Fred sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled an affirmative answer. “But this time is different!”

“How so?” You cross your arms, now fully awake. You glanced to the side of your bed, hoping Fred had the decency to at least have brought you breakfast or caffeine or both. You were disappointed to see that he’d done neither. “You’re not very good at convincing me. Didn’t even bring me food,” you grumbled.

“This one is a soulmate potion.” Fred grinned, eyebrows going up and down.

“A soulmate potion? What the bloody hell is that?”

“A potion that helps you find your soulmate? It’s not that difficult to grasp, mate. No one’s ever done it before!” Fred was animatedly explaining his thought process and you groaned as he laid out the plan.

“And I suppose you want me to test it once I brew it?” you sighed.

“Well, it would probably be best? Unless you want to test it on some first years? I’m sure they’d love to have a go. Who wouldn’t want to find their soulmate?” Fred’s eyes glittered with mischief.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” You grumbled as you rolled out of bed, blindly searching for a sweater to dispel the cold taking over your frame. You ended up with one of the Christmas sweaters Molly had knitted you over your pajamas causing Fred to grin.

“Let’s go, then!” He snatched you away down the stairs, which did turn into a slide, and eventually into the room of requirement where you’d set up a temporary testing space for your potions experiments and their various prank products. Much to your chagrin, George was already there.

“Hey, sweetheart. Got you some breakfast and a cuppa since this nitwit didn’t want to let you sleep.” George gestured to the potions table where he’d laid out the aforementioned items. You brightened immediately.

“Georgie, you’re now my favorite twin. Don’t you forget it.” You said, smacking a kiss to his cheek as you headed over to the table.

“And what am I?” Fred scoffed. You shrugged and held up your food. The tea was downed quickly as well as the beans on toast before you got to work making notes on what both boys wanted the potion to do.

Unlike the love potions you’d created for them, which had actually been a whole line of about five different versions that all did similar things, but still varied in results, this potion was going to be highly complicated.

Two weeks later, you finally had a prototype to give them. Fourteen days of little to no sleep and brewing more than sixty cauldrons of failed potions, except for this one. The potion swirled a nice purple color, but you’d designed it to taste a bit like butterbeer at the boys’ request. It was designed to have different results for each user, as well. To find their soulmates, they’d have different side effects. Some users might feel their soulmate’s pain, some might see only in black and white until they touched their soulmate, or have small identifying tattoos show up on their skin from their soulmate. Only one person would have to take the potion in order for them to figure out who their soulmate was, one bonus you were glad of.

“So, who wants to take the plunge and try it first?” You asked nervously. Fred grinned and handed the little bottle back to you across the Gryffindor table at breakfast. Some of the first years were watching from down the table and you eyed them cautiously. You never knew what some of them would try to get their hands on Wizard Wheezes’ prototypes, especially after they’d all gone bonkers for the Skiving Snackboxes and the silly hat that made your whole head invisible.

“As our lovely assistant, dedicated friend, and favorite classmate (sorry Lee), we figured we’d give you the honors of finding your soulmate first. It’s been ages since you’ve been on a date anyway.” Fred grinned.

“What my dear brother is trying to say is that we want you to be happy and we very much appreciate what you’ve done with our products so far, so we’d love for you to find the person who’s going to make you happier.” George smoothed over his twin’s remarks with a pointed glare at the other redhead.

“Fine. Take notes of what I say.” You snorted. The potion was downed with four sips, the flavor seeming to follow your directives. “The taste is decent, but could use some tweaking. Side effect is that I feel a bit woozy and I’m seeing a few black spots in my vision. I’m not sure if this will work, but it seems alright so far.”

“Do you feel any different? Are you seeing in black and white? Can you hear your soulmate’s words in your head? Did initials ink themselves onto your skin?” The twins bombarded you with questions which you tried to answer as they made notes on a parchment, but the truth was that nothing seemed to have happened. There was nothing that would suggest your potion worked or that it followed any of the soulmate stories muggle writers attempted to tell.

“I don’t feel any different. It may not have worked.” You sighed, eying the potion bottle as if it would tell you what was wrong with it. It couldn’t. You ran over the ingredients and your methods mentally, but even that didn’t give any clues.

“Quidditch practice, lads! Don’t make me yank you by ‘yer ears.” Angelina Johnson’s barking yell sounded from the other end of the table and your favorite twins groaned.

“We’ll discuss this later. We’ve got a quidditch captain to torment.” George grinned, both boys rushing away.

About two hours later, you were in the room of requirement again working on the potion and taking notes on the color and taste when a sharp pain started shooting through your right arm, the muscle throbbing.

“Shit,” you cursed, dropping the vial you’d been swirling. It shattered on the ground, glittering for a second before the room sucked the potion and the broken glass into the ground to clean it. “Thanks, room.”

The muscles in your upper arm throbbed, and you pulled up your sleeve to look at it, a gigantic bruise the size of a bludger forming under the skin. You stared at it in disbelief, then darted your eyes to the potion. It worked.

Somewhere out there, you had a soulmate and you’d just gotten their injury etched into your own skin. But then you started cursing yourself, because of course you happened to get the one effect you hadn’t really wanted.

“Why couldn’t it have been the tattoos or the black and white thing?” You muttered, moving back over to the table to make notes on the things you’d just discovered.

You were so lost in your studies and notes that you didn’t even notice the twins entering the room with Lee until they were right next to you.

“Any developments?” George asked, causing you to jump.

“Merlin’s beard!” You yelled, smacking him on the arm. Fred and Lee snickered from behind you both.

“Well?” Fred asked expectantly, his gaze sweeping over the table that was now covered with multiple cauldrons and a rack that you’d filled with at least twelve versions of the soulmate potion. He made to pick one up, but you swatted his hand away.

“I’ve made some developments, but those ones aren’t ready yet. So don’t touch my system, Weasley.”

“Alright, alright. Won’t touch ‘em. We’ve come to bring you down to dinner anyway. It’s getting late.” Fred said, guiding you towards the door.

“How long have I been in here?” you asked, forgetting that you’d forgotten the wrist watch your mum had gotten you so you had no clue what time it was or when you’d last eaten.

“Johnson kept them in practice for about five hours, so we missed lunch.” Lee remarked as he walked beside you, “George nearly got her with a bludger to get her to let us leave, but it got Fred in the arm instead.”

You froze, hearing what Lee had said, but the others didn’t seem to notice and you darted your eyes to Fred’s right arm. There was no way, right?

“Yeah, gave him a nasty bruise.” George winced, “Ah well, nothing a little bruise paste can’t clear up.”

“Was it that bad?” you asked shakily, hoping they wouldn’t notice the inflection to your voice. You needed more details, more time, to determine if what you suspected was true.

“Nah, just got a lump on my arm the size of that bludger. It’s pretty gnarly. I’ll use it to market the bruise paste later tonight. See if we can get some of the Gryffindors to add that to their purchase list.” Fred grinned, surreptitiously rubbing his arm. His right arm. The same arm that was sporting a bruise on your own body.

Dinner passed quickly with the twins talking to you and Lee about upcoming plans for the products you all were inventing when, all of a sudden, Lee stabbed Fred’s left hand hard with his fork, nodding his head at a Ravenclaw witch who had just entered the Great Hall. He’d been talking about her for weeks, but never made a move to ask her out despite his long-winded speeches of being a ‘lady-killer.’

The pain radiated on your own hand and you were horrified to see the marks from the tines on both the back of your hand and Fred’s, though he didn’t notice since he was too busy brandishing his own fork at Lee who’d surrendered quickly. You snatched your hand off the table, trying to focus on your pumpkin juice instead of the fight the boys were having, rolling your eyes at their stupidity.

Only George noticed your odd actions, but he very smartly didn’t say a word in your presence and you didn’t notice his pointed stares. You were trying to convince yourself, and failing, that what you really needed was a good night’s sleep and that you must be imagining things. But two injuries to Fred in one day and you receiving the aftermath of both of them just couldn’t be a coincidence.

But the topping on the cake was three days later when Fred landed himself in detention with Umbridge. You knew what she was going to make him do and so you waited in your bed for the letters to appear on the back of your hand, as you figured they would. It would be the final test to see if you were right about the soulmate potion and who it was pointing you towards.

And finally, there they were. A burning sensation took over your skin, making you feel like you’d been stung by a hundred bees as the cuts appeared on your skin, spelling out the phrase “I must not be a nuisance.” You gasped, the pain sharper than you’d expected. You hadn’t landed yourself in detention with Umbridge yet, but this was horrible. The pain made you cry, but the shock of your findings was almost worse.

Fred Weasley was your soulmate. There was no other explanation.

You laid back on your bed, clutching your hand, and closed your eyes. Fred couldn’t be your soulmate, you reasoned. For multiple reasons.

Number one, even though you’d had a horrible crush on him for the past year or so, he had never once seemed to indicate that he felt the same and you were never going to ask him. Number two, he had just broken up with Angelina a few months prior on summer holiday and tensions were still high between the two of them. You were sure that that was part of the reason she’d kept them in practice for so long the other night. Number three, the only logical thing was that he’d tampered with the potion so that it would point to him and so they could get a laugh.

All three things made you upset, so you were grateful when sleep claimed you for the night, and you were thankful that you didn’t hear any of your roommates come in either.

The next morning, the back of your hand was still mottled and you looked at it in shock. The pain was gone, but the scars were still there. There was no way you were going to be able to hide this without a glamor of some sort. So that’s what you did.

At breakfast, you were strangely quiet, even when the twins asked you for updates on the potion. You were hesitant to say it worked, but the words came out anyway when they asked. Both their eyes nearly bugged out of their heads when you said you’d realized who your soulmate was and that they were at Hogwarts.

“Who? Who is it?” They asked, stumbling over each other’s words as they grilled you for information.

“I’m not revealing that.” you scoffed. “Now, I’ve taken copious notes on the subject, improved the taste of the potion, and made sure it can be replicated, so you shouldn’t have any issues there. You can market it with the Wonder Witch line, or do something else. But that’s all I’ll say on the matter.”

George and Fred both looked at you curiously, but didn’t disagree with you so you let the matter drop as you discussed the ways you were going to prevent Umbridge from figuring out some of the other things you were up to with your inventions.

But the twins didn’t really let the matter drop and they combed through your notes, finding the one paper you had forgotten to take with you from the Room of Requirement.

“Injury to the arm last Saturday, imprints of a fork on the same day, a burn from a firework on Wednesday, and blimey! Words from Umbridge’s evil quill etched into the skin of the hand.” George read aloud to both Fred and Lee.

“Is she taking notes of my injuries?” Fred asked, looking over George’s shoulder at the list you’d written.

Lee gasped, then started cackling, pointing at Fred with tears in his eyes as he continued to laugh.

“Quit taking the piss, mate. What are you laughing for?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred! You asked her to make a soulmate potion and she got one of the lamest options! Did you tamper with the cauldron when she was making it?” Lee asked, tears of laughter still twinkling in his dark eyes.

Fred looked at him in confusion.

“George, what’s this tosser talking about?”

George, to his credit, shook his head and handed him the list. He’d figured it out far quicker than Fred and Lee had, noticing your odd behavior around Fred for the past week or so, especially when you started taking notice of what Fred had done to himself injury-wise.

“She’s your soulmate, you dummy.” Lee answered for him.

Fred furrowed his brow, reading over the list. And sure enough, it wasn’t just a list of his injuries, but where they’d appeared on your body. Not his. You’d correlated them to him, though, and it was obvious now. You were his soulmate. His best friend, you.

Lee and George stood there, waiting to see his reaction, but Fred didn’t say a word before rushing out of the room with the list in his hand. Lee and George tore after him, sure he was about to muck this up.

And muck it up he did.

Fred found you in the common room, having fallen asleep reading a book. You were sprawled on one of the couches, Hermione and Harry near you in comfy chairs by the fire. They looked up when the twins and Lee came in, but stared on in horror as Fred marched right up to their friend with a crazed look in his eyes and shook you awake.

“W-what?” you startled, dropping your book on the floor. The impact woke you immediately and you looked up just to make eye contact with Fred. You gasped, seeing the look in his eyes.

“What is this?” he demanded, shoving your list in your hands. You took the list and scanned over it, gaping up at him without saying anything. Fred didn’t speak either as he snatched your left hand and pointed his wand at it, saying, “Revelio!”

The glamor you’d placed over it to hide the scar faded immediately, leaving the words glaringly imprinted in your skin. You snatched your hand back, trembling, and looked back up at Fred who was looking more determined than you’d ever seen him.

“So did the potion work?” he asked thickly. You nodded hesitantly. “And it’s me? I’m your soulmate?” Another nod.

Fred raked his hands through his hair. Lee and George watched from behind, ready to jump in if needed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Fred asked incredulously.

You gaped up at him, panicking as you stole glances around you at the other people in the common room. Quite a few of them were looking over at your little group, causing you to shrink into yourself.

Why didn’t you tell him? Why? So many reasons, but one being the most notable.

“I didn’t want to force it on you.” you murmured, moving to a sitting position on the couch as you kept your hand hidden. Fred knelt down beside you on the floor and gently took your hands in his this time.

“It’s not forced if I want this too. Why do you think I had you make this potion?” Fred asked quietly, rubbing his fingers over the scarred tissue his request had inadvertently caused.

“For the profit?” you asked dumbly, still trying to process the turn of events here. Fred laughed, but not unkindly. He smiled at you.

“Because I wanted you to be happy. You’ve always been there for us and we’ve done precious little for you in return. And I’ll be honest, you’ve been catching my eye for the past year, so I’m thrilled that it’s you and me, yeah?”

“Really?” you whispered.

“Honest to Merlin.”

“And you’re not upset with me?” you asked nervously.

“Not in the slightest. Do I wish I’d noticed sooner? Absolutely, but we can’t change that. I’m sorry you got the one side effect you didn’t want. You didn’t deserve to feel the same pain as me or get marks because of it.”

“It was worth it. Well, mostly. They all hurt like hell.”

Fred chuckled.

“Now what’s the antidote to your potion? Y’know, so you can stop getting the same injuries as me?”

And that’s when you blanched.

“I didn’t make one.”

[lvnleah]

— christmas chaos buddies 🎄

a little Boxing Day treat featuring your two little favourites! written with @scribblesofagoonerr 💗 bit of a long one at 4.2k words

“Alright, Munchkin!” Beth said, hoisting you up onto her hip so you could see what was on offer at the canteen. “What would you like for your Christmas dinner?”

You looked at the food in front of you, wrinkling your nose. There were big dishes of turkey, potatoes, sausages, and vegetables that didn’t look anything like the ones you liked at home. 

You pointed at the rolls right away. “Bread please.”

Beth laughed softly, shaking her head. “You can’t just have bread, Roo. How about some turkey? Or potatoes? You eat the ones me and Mamma make at home!”

You glanced at the turkey and scrunched up your nose. It looked weird. “I don’t like it,” you mumbled.

“You haven’t even tried it,” Beth said, but she wasn’t really mad. “Come on, just a little bit.”

Next to you, Buddy was tugging on Leah’s hand, bouncing on her toes as she scanned the food, protesting about eating any of it, “I don’ want to eat it!” she announced, dramatically pointing ahead at the tray of steaming broccoli, “It smells funny!”

“Bubba, you have to try it,” Leah sighed, her voice already tired and definitely not in the mood to argue with a stubborn three-year-old, “I need you to at least try and eat one vegetable on your plate, okay?”

“Nooo!” Buddy whined, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don’ like it! It’ ugly, Mummy!”

“It might look ugly, but I promise you it tastes good,” Leah began to explain, trying to stifle her own amusement, “Why don’t you just try them?”

“I think she might have a point about the broccoli, Le,” Monkey chimed in, appearing the other side of Leah as she stood on her tiptoes and attempted to peer over her shoulder, “It looks proper rank and disgusting. I don’t blame her for not wanting to eat none of it.”

“See, Mummy! Monks’ said I don’ have to eat it!” Buddy exclaimed, adamant on her decision to not eat any of it, “Ou’ don’t even eat it either. Why do I’ have to?”

“You pair are a nightmare together,” Leah muttered to herself, shaking her head as she crouched down to Buddy’s level, “How about we just try and put a little bit on your plate, okay? Try it for Mummy.”

“No, I don’ wan’ it!” Buddy shot back, stomping her foot in protest, “If ‘ou don’t have it then neither do I!” she added, determined on her own opinion on the matter of broccoli.

Beth nudged you forward, “Okay, turkey for you. Maybe a few potatoes too?”

“Just the bread,” you tried again, but it was no use. The turkey and a scoop of mushy potatoes ended up on your plate anyway.

As soon as Leah wrestled some broccoli onto Buddy’s plate, you both made your way to the table. It was big and shiny with decorations, and everyone was already sitting down. You joined Lia, Steph and Monkey. Lia was chatting with Steph, Monkey was looking like she was up to something, and Vic was laughing at something Kyra said from the table beside you. Monkey was in a mood because Leah had banned her from sitting with Kyra as their recent antics had been a bit too much. 

Beth sat you on her lap, your plate in front of you. You poked at the potatoes with your fork. They looked mushy. “I don’t like these,” you whispered.

Beth kissed the top of your head. “Just try a little, Roo.”

Across the table, Buddy was already causing trouble. She was sitting on a chair on her knees, playing with her dinosaurs while Leah tried to get her to eat her dinner. 

“Roar!” Buddy shouted, making her plastic t-rex stomp on the table as it almost landed in her own dinner, “M’ t-rex don’ even wanna eat the smelly trees!”

“Bubba, come on, it’s time to put the dinosaurs away now,” Leah attempted to coax Buddy into eating her own dinner, “You can play with them afterwards, okay?”

Buddy scrunched her nose up in disagreement, “I’ no wan eat them smelly green trees! ‘Ou don’ even eat them yourself!”

Leah’s eyes widened at the sass from her three-year-old, “Buddy!”

Monkey snorted from across the table, “Touche, little Buddy,” she leaned across and high-fived the three-year-old, “Nice one!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Leah shot Monkey a look that could have turned her to stone, however, Monkey just continued to grin in amusement, “Bubba, please just try and eat something. How about the carrots instead?”

“They’ gross as well!” Buddy continued to scrunch her face up in disgust, “I wan’ beige food!”

“Well… She’s definitely your kid, Le,” Beth chimed in, amusedly.

“Unbelievable,” Leah muttered, shaking her head as she practically gave up on the idea of getting Buddy to eat any kind of vegetable at this point.

Meanwhile, you were still sitting on Beth’s lap, poking at your potatoes as if they might come alive. Beth sighed softly, guiding your hand with hers to bring a small forkful to your mouth. “Come on, Roo. Just one bite. I promise it’s not that bad.”

You scrunched up your nose but reluctantly took a nibble. It wasn’t as awful as you thought, but you weren’t about to admit that. “It’s okay,” you said, which for you was practically a five-star review.

Beth beamed, “See? I told you!”

Leah glanced over, noticing your tiny triumph, “Look, Bubba, Roo’s being brave and eating new things. Why don’t you try, and you can be brave as well?”

“Nooo!” Buddy shook her head firmly in disagreement.

“Why don’t you eat the potatoes, little miss? They’re very beige,” Beth attempted to help Leah out as Buddy squinted, looking sceptical at it before proceeding to nod, “There we go, we have some luck!” She joked.

“I’ eat off your plate!” Buddy declared, before prompting to take a spoonful of mashed potato off Leah’s plate, “Mm’ it yummy, Mummy!”

“Well I’m glad you at least like the mashed potato,” Leah chuckled, failing to hide her amusement as she now had no choice but to allow Buddy to eat off her own plate, happy as long as she was eating.

You leaned back against Beth’s chest, deciding you were done with the potatoes. That’s when your eyes wandered to the plate next to you—Steph’s.

You reached out tentatively, but Beth caught your wrist. “Roo,” she whispered, her voice both amused and warning as you tried to steal some peas.

You looked up at her with your best innocent eyes. “Just one?”

“Roo, no,” Beth laughed, “If you want some I’ll go get you some, okay?”

You sighed and leaned against Beth’s chest again as she started talking to Lia who was sitting on the other side of the table. When she wasn’t looking you reached over to Steph’s plate and stole a couple peas.  

“Hey!” Steph suddenly turned, catching you red-handed. “Are you stealing my peas?”

You froze for a second, “Nooo?” you giggled. 

Steph raised an eyebrow, her smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Oh really? Because it sure looks like you’re stealing my peas, little Munchkin.”

“Roo!” Beth gasped dramatically, “Are you being a little pea monster?”

You giggled, shaking your head, “Nooo!”

“You’re a little monster!” Beth said, tickling your sides. You giggled as you squirmed in Beth’s lap, slowly slipping off before you were fully standing. 

“Mummy, I’m bored!” You huffed as you stood beside Beth, “I’m done eating.” 

Beth looked at your half-empty plate and then down at you, her eyebrow raised. “Done already? What about your turkey? Or those potatoes you actually liked a minute ago?”

You crossed your arms and shook your head stubbornly. “I’m done, Mummy.”

“Do you not want any more turkey?”

You scrunched up your nose again and looked back at your plate. “Do I have to?”

Beth leaned down and kissed the top of your head before pulling you back up onto her lap. “Just a couple more bites, Roo. Then you can be officially done, okay?”

You huffed dramatically but picked up your fork, poking at the potatoes one more time. You sat on Beth’s lap and started to munch on some turkey, actually liking it this time. 

It wasn’t all that long before Buddy got bored of eating off Leah’s own plate and decided she was done with sitting on the chair.

“Roar!” Buddy shouted aloud, standing on the chair as she held a dinosaur in each of them before proceeding to make them stomp across the table, “Roaaaar!”

“Buddy, bubba, sit down,” Leah exhaled a sigh and rubbed her temple, “Everyone else around the table is still eating. I’m sure they don’t want to end up with a dinosaur in their dinner, do they?”

“I’ pretending to be a dino’daur, Mummy!” Buddy was eccentric, continuing to make her dinosaurs stomp across the table as one nearly fell directly into a plateful of gravy.

However, as soon as Buddy caught sight that you had nearly finished the last bit of your turkey, she had another bright idea, “Me an’ Roo go see everyone else!”

“Not yet, bubba,” Leah began to say, her tone of voice firm but Buddy had already hopped down from her chair, “Buddy, come back here please.”

“What’s the worst that can happen,” Beth joked with the blonde.

“Be careful,” Leah called over, exhaling a sigh as she went back to eating the remainder of her dinner after Buddy had finished picking at it.

“Just don’t cause too much trouble,” Beth called after you both as you slid down from her lap and immediately followed Buddy. 

“Come on Roo!” Buddy squealed with delight, dragging you toward the next table where Katie, Caitlin and Kyra were seated, “Hi, ‘Ra!”

“Hi, pipsqueak!” Kyra grinned, scooping down to lift the three-year-old onto her lap, “And what’re you two up to?”

“I’ be eatin’ my Mummy’s dinner!” Buddy grinned, proud of herself for eating at least some kind of dinner, before she got restless and proceeded to wriggle over to plonk herself on Katie’s lap, “What ‘ou eating Auntie Katie?”

Katie looked down at her plate, then at Buddy, eyebrows raised. “I’ve got carrots, potatoes, and turkey. Do yer wanna try some?”

Buddy scrunched her nose up, “Nooo! Carrots’ gross! Do ‘ou have chips? Me like them!”

Katie laughed. “Chips? At Christmas dinner? What do yer think this is, a takeaway?”

Buddy crossed her arms over her chest and leant against Katie’s chest dramatically, “It’ be better if there were chips!”

“The green things are smelly!” You added in as you climbed up onto Caitlin’s lap beside Katie. 

Alessia raised an eyebrow, “Green things?”

“The trees!” you explained, your voice filled with mock disgust.

Caitlin laughed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist to keep you from sliding off her lap. “What’s wrong with broccoli? It’s good for you!”

Buddy shook her head fiercely from where she was perched on Katie’s lap, “Nuh-uh. Broccoli look like smelly trees! Mummy said I’ hav’ to try it, but I’ don’ wan it!”

“You should try it. It’s good for yer’ Tiny,” Katie chuckled.

“Nooo way!” Buddy giggled, turning to Katie, “Do ‘ou like smelly trees?”

Katie smirked, “Love ’em. They’re my favorite part of the meal.”

“You’re lying!” you giggled, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Katie.

Caitlin laughed so hard she nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, you’ve got her figured out, Roo. Katie’s not fooling anyone!”

“Ou’ no’ lie Auntie Katie! It’ naughty!” Buddy insisted, peering up to look at Katie, “Ou’ can’ lie or Santa won’ come!”

“Course I do!” Katie said with a wink, though the way she quickly reached for her water to wash it down made you and Buddy burst into laughter.

“Ou’ lying!” Buddy declared, her voice triumphant as she threw her hands in the air.

“Lying’s naughty,” you added, leaning back in Caitlin’s arms with a cheeky grin. 

Kyra smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, they’ve got you there, Katie. Imagine being called out by a three and five-year-old. What’s next, them doing a protest outside the canteen?”

“We do that!” Buddy insisted, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Oh no, no, no,” Caitlin said quickly, pulling you a little closer to keep you from getting any ideas. 

“We do’ it an’ protest again… against da’ smelly trees!” Buddy was already bouncing on Katie’s lap with a plot in mind, “We’ make signs. Monks’ can help! Roo, ‘ou can yell into the loud thing–”

“A ‘egaphone!” you supplied, giggling.

Katie shook her head, trying not to laugh as she put a hand on Buddy’s shoulder to steady her. “Alright, you two, enough of that. I’m not getting in trouble because you started a riot over vegetables.”

“Ugh,” Buddy sighed dramatically, flopping back against Katie, “Come on, Roo. Let’ go an’ find someone’ else!”

You slid off Caitlin's lap, saying your goodbyes as you grabbed Buddy’s hand. The two of you ran around a few tables before you and Buddy scurried over to Amanda and Vic, who were sitting together with Amanda’s baby, Mila, cradled in Amanda’s arms. Mila was tiny, Amanda had only been back for a few weeks but you had been completely obsessed with her. 

“Hi!” Buddy announced her entrance, loud as predicated, “We ‘ere! We see baby?” She asked eagerly.

“Hello, double trouble!” Vic giggled as she helped Buddy climb onto the seat beside her. 

“Baby Mila!” You squealed as you noticed the baby looking at you from Amanda’s lap. 

Buddy continued to look at Mila in Amanda’s arms, “She so small! Why is she’ like that?” She exclaimed, confused.

“She’s only three months old,” Amanda said softly, smiling as she adjusted Mila in her arms as she looked between you and Buddy. “Babies are very little when they’re first born.”

Buddy continued to tilt her head in confusion, “I’ no like that when I little?”

“Oh, you definitely were,” Leah chimed in, crouching beside Buddy as she wrapped her free arm around the three-year-old to keep her steady, “You were once a little tiny baby just like Mila is now, Bubba.”

“Why does she have no teeth?” you asked, pointing at Mila’s gummy smile.

“Babies don’t get teeth until they’re a bit older,” Vic explained, leaning over to tickle Mila’s belly gently. “She’ll get them when she’s ready.”

Buddy’s curiosity got the better of her, trying to reach her hand out as it stopped short of touching Mila’s face, “Can I’ touch her? She won’ bite me, will she?”

“No biting,” Amanda said with a laugh. “You can touch her gently, though. Be very careful, okay?”

“I’ can do that!” Buddy promptly nodded, seriously as her little fingers brushed over Mila’s hand, “She’ so soft! Why don’ she talk?”

“She’s too little to talk right now,” Amanda explained patiently. “But one day, she’ll learn words just like you and Roo.”

“Can she walk?” you asked, your curiosity endless.

“No, Roo,” Vic said, chuckling. “She can’t walk yet either. Babies have to learn how to crawl and then walk when they get bigger.”

“Does she eat smelly trees?” Buddy questioned, wrinkling her nose dramatically.

“Nope,” Amanda said with a laugh. “Mila only drinks milk right now. No smelly broccoli for her.”

“She lucky, cos’ they be’ gross!” Buddy muttered, crossing her arms and looking at Leah pointedly.

“What does she do?” you asked, leaning closer.

Amanda smiled. “She sleeps, eats, and sometimes cries. And she loves cuddles.”

“I’ show her my dino’daurs?” Buddy didn’t hesitate to wait for an answer before eagerly grabbing it and shoving it directly in front of Mila’s face, “I’ show her the t-rex! It’ be loud like me!”

Amanda shook her head gently. “She’s too little to play right now, Buddy.”

“Why no’ play?” Buddy frowned, clearly unimpressed that Mila didn’t do all that much, “She’ borin’ if she no’ do nothin’!”

“She’s just a baby,” Vic teased, nudging Buddy lightly. “You were the same way once.”

Buddy continued to frown at Mila, a small pout plastered on her face, before attempting to try and win Mila over with her beloved dinosaur in her hand, “Look, Mi’a! Roaaaar!” She shouted, her voice loud and excited.

Mila immediately scrunched up her face, her little bottom lip wobbling before a loud wail escaped her.

“Me’ no like how loud she is!” Buddy exclaimed, dropping her dinosaur from her hand and planting her hands directly over her ears, “Mummy! Turn her off, p’ease. Me no’ like it!”

“Bubba,” Leah groaned, scooping Buddy up into her arms before she could attempt to make any more loud noise, “Remember what I said about using our inside voices, hmm? Mila’s very little right now, and we don’t want to scare her now, do we?”

“But I’ just showin’ her my dino’daurs Mummy!” Buddy protested, feigning her innocence, “I’ no get why she no’ like them though!”

“Baby Mila sad?” you said, your eyes wide as you watched Amanda bounce Mila gently to calm her.

Beth came over and crouched beside you, pulling you closer. “Babies are very sensitive. You have to be extra gentle around them, she’ll be okay in a minute.”

“Do you think you can say sorry to Mila for making her cry, Bubba?” Leah coaxed Buddy to apologise to the tiny baby in Amanda’s arms, “I’m sure if it happened to you then you wouldn’t like it either, would you?”

“I’ sorry, Baby Mila,” Buddy pouted, looking genuinely sorry about scaring her.

Amanda smiled softly, rocking Mila in her arms until she settled. “It’s okay, Buddy. She’ll be alright.”

“Right, come on my little dino, how about we give it another attempt to eat some broccoli, hmm?” Leah tried her luck to wrangle Buddy to eat her own dinner, having the advantage of still having her in her arms, “Even dinos’ need to eat their greens, remember?”

“Fine, if I must,” Buddy huffed dramatically, reluctant to eat but having no choice as she’s set back down in her chair, “But if I’ eat them then so do ‘ou as well, Mummy. It only fair. Deal?”

Leah’s own face fell at her three years old’s words, and knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of that one now, “Deal, Bubba,” She agreed, reluctantly eating a forkful of broccoli and trying to not scrunch her face up in disgust at the taste of it in her mouth, “Mm’ this is really nice, I think you’ll definitely like it, bubba!”

“Ou’ no like it either, Mummy!” Buddy barely even ate a bit of it and screwed her own face up in disgust, “It’ no nice, Mummy. ‘Ou no fool no more! It’ yucky and gross! It’ goes in bin!” No more hesitation to climb down from the table, grab her plate in her hand and toddle over to the bin and toss it in.

“Buddy, you barely touched anything on your plate,” Leah chided, shaking her head in disbelief, “Now what are you going to have to eat instead?”

“I’ eat crisps and chocolate!” Buddy declared, promptly while puffing out her chest, “I’ no where there’s secret snacks! Come on Roo, we’ go find Monks’ locker an’ get snacks out!”

“I… I don’t know what she’s even talking about,” Monkey tried to feign her innocence, holding her hands up in mock surrender, while narrowing her eyes to look dead at Buddy, “I thought you and I had a deal, huh? You little snitch.”

“I’ no stitch, I just hungy now!” Buddy insisted, mispronouncing the word and pouting in disagreement as she proceeded to tug on Monkey’s arm, “‘Elp’ us please, Monks’!”

“I want chocolate as well!” Your eyes lit up in excitement at the prospect of sneaking chocolate out of Monkey’s secret stash in her locker. “Can we eat all of it?”

“You little rascals can’t steal all of my chocolate! What will I eat?” Monkey exaggerated a dramatic sigh, “So unbelievable!”

“Nooo! It’s our chocolate!” You said with determination through fits of giggles, “You have to share it with us, Monkey! Tell her Mummy!” You turned to look at Beth to back you up. “Sharing caring!”

“Before you run off and eat any chocolate, you need to finish eating your dinner first, remember?” Beth joked, tickling your sides which earned another fit of laughter. 

“Even the carrots?” You scrunched your face up in disgust, side-eyeing them on the plate.

“Even the carrots,” Beth chuckled, nodding in agreement, “Sooner you eat them then sooner you can run off and find some chocolate from someone!”

“I don’t like it, but fine, I guess I will try,” You dramatically leaned against Beth’s chest as you ate the smallest mouthful of carrot on your fork, “It’s not that bad, but it’s still gross!”

Just then, you heard a familiar voice behind you, and before you could turn around, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Guess what, Roo?” Kyra’s playful voice cut through the chatter, and you turned around to see her grinning at you, looking mischievous 

“What?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I heard there might be some leftover chocolate pudding for dessert,” Kyra said, her grin turning into a wink. “Wanna help me sneak some?”

Your eyes widened. “Chocolate pudding?”

“Uh-huh!” Kyra nodded, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You in?”

You looked over at Leah and then at Beth, who were too busy with the rest of the table to notice. With a cheeky grin, you nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

Buddy quickly chimed in. “I’ help! Me like chocolate!”

The two of you ran off with Kyra who helped you get some chocolate cake each which the pair of you ate in the corner, giggling away. Soon enough, you and Beth were on your way home. 

“Hi Mamma!” You grinned and Viv’s face popped up on the screen. You held Beth’s phone in front of you as you sat in your car seat.  

“Hi, lieverd!” Viv’s warm smile lit up the screen as she waved at you. “Did you have fun today with Mummy and everyone?”

“Yeah!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the phone. “We had carrots. They were gross, but I ate some! And then Kyra gave me chocolate cake!”

“Chocolate cake?” Viv raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. “Was it good?”

“Uh-huh, so yummy!” you nodded enthusiastically, “But Buddy wanted to steal all of Monkey’s chocolate first. She’s a chocolate monster!”

Beth’s laugh rang through the car as she listened to your conversation with Viv, “How’s Manchester?”

“Quiet, compared to your chaos,” Viv teased, but her expression softened. “I miss you both.”

“I miss you too, Mamma,” you said, your voice softening. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I’ll be home in a few days, Roo,” Viv reassured you. “And when I get there, we’ll do something special, just us three. How does that sound?”

“Can we have pancakes?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

“Pancakes it is,” Viv promised with a nod.

“Baby Mila is cute, Mamma!” You told Viv, “She loud though, Buddy didn’t like her crying and wanted to turn her off! She’s tiny.”

Viv laughed at that, shaking her head. “Oh, Buddy wanted to turn her off, did she? I can imagine her face saying that. Babies can be loud sometimes, Roo.”

“Yeah but Mila still cute!” You nodded, “She has tiny hands! I held her, Mamma, and she grabbed my finger!” you added excitedly.

“She already loves you,” Viv said warmly. “You’re so gentle with babies, Roo.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a big girl now!” you declared proudly.

Beth smiled, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “That’s right, Roo. You’re so good with little ones.”

“I wish you were here too, Mamma,” you said, your voice softening.

“I know, lieverd,” Viv said, her own tone gentle. “But I’ll be back before you know it. And when I am, we’ll have all the pancakes and chocolate cake you want. Deal?”

“Deal!” you grinned.

“Alright, Roo,” Beth said, taking the phone back gently. “Say bye to Mamma.”

“Bye, Mamma! I love you!” you said, blowing a kiss to the screen.

“I love you too, mijn meisje,” Viv replied, catching your kiss with her hand. “Be good for Mummy, okay? I’ll phone you later.”

“Okay, Mamma!” you grinned, bouncing in your car seat with excitement. 

Beth chuckled, saying her own goodbyes before hanging up the phone and tucking it back into her pocket. She glanced at you, “Ready to go inside, Roo?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yep! And we’re having pancakes when Mamma gets home!”

“That’s right,” Beth said with a smile, “But first, how about we watch a movie before bath time?”

“Yeah!” You nodded as Beth got out of the car to unstrap you, “Only if I can have popcorn though!”

“Deal,” Beth said, opening the car door. “Let’s get inside, then.”

As the two of you walked inside, you chattered away about everything you’d seen and done today, the promise of pancakes and dinosaurs filling your thoughts. Beth smiled as she listened, already looking forward to the next few days when the whole family would be together again.

[genderqueerdykes]

I find the rebinarising of tran-ness so frustrating personally, no I am not going to let ANYONE refer to me by an agab, that's fucking stupid, why does it matter, none of anyone's business, that's private medical information or someone making a whole fuck ton of assumptions about me.

No I'm not gonna pick between transmasc and transfemme, I'm not neither either, I'm just not involved. I'm trans. End of story.

Can people stop trying to decide what boxes to put me in? This is what lead to me wanting to escape being cis!! Mind your business and leave me out of your shit, just be kind to each other.

I will always have my heart open to my fellow queers and transes (including intersex in either queer or trans if they so wish, they are family too if they wanna be (regardless of if they consider themself to be queer or trans they're family if they wanna be), they get fucked over by a lot of the same systems and I will fight for them to heard as much as I can), they are family, and whatever I can offer is theirs, why does anything else matter? Why does it matter what 'type' of queer I am? What 'type' of trans I am? I'm queer, I'm trans, and the rest is unneeded bullshit (for me at least, I'd never begrudge someone else their choices)

yeah i'm not okay with how people try to force each other to disclose what "Type" of queer they are. especially when it comes to agab. why are we acting like strangers HAVE to disclose their genitals in order to figure out if someone is "Safe" or not? how is that safe!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! that is the opposite of safe!!!! that's profiling, that's violence

you dont owe anyone any explanation for your identity. you don't owe them anything its up to you to decide what you divulge and i hate that people are pressuring you into thinking you basically have to misgender yourself in order for people to decide whether or not they feel "Safe" around you. people are boiling each other down to their genitals. again. it's so sickening. you don't have to use any of these binarist ass terms if they don't suit you. it's ridiculous that people are constantly reinventing the cisheteronormative binary again and again

you should be able to express your queerness without having to be interrogated about things that strangers don't even need to know in the first place. people are becoming so rude and invasive. take care of yourself, i'm sorry you've been going through this

[bubbipond]

Fadel and Bison are definitively each other’s biggest support systems and protectors, while also being each other’s biggest downfalls and obstacles. See the thing is both have things they want to do in life, but they also both know that they can’t because of the other. The biggest issue that they both have is the lack of communication. They communicate perfectly when it comes to their job or when it comes to moving around. But when it comes to personal things, that’s where they fall flat. Which I would argue is far more important to communicate about than work because their lack of communication is why they are stuck in their current situation.

Fadel is stuck in a never-ending routine of having to restart because of Bison’s emotions. While Bison is consistently playing dumb and keeping them both safe even when Fadel can’t. But the thing is, both are doing it without the knowledge of the other and without really talking to the other. Fadel definitively believes Bison is incapable of making sound decisions. While Bison definitively believes that Fadel is an unmovable (physically and emotionally) obstacle for them both. But neither would ever leave the other and that is very important to the story. Fadel can’t just leave Bison because he does not see him as someone who can take care of himself. Bison can’t just leave Fadel because as we have seen, Fadel is easier to manipulate than Bison. Their need to keep each other safe and to make sure their last familiar bonds stay intact, make it impossible to move away from their current circumstance. I’m not saying this is a bad thing or that their relationship is toxic. But the problem with codependency is that when you get to a place where you want to break away, you almost always fall short. Whether it is through an outside source or through your feeling for the other person. Almost everything Fadel and Bison do is to protect the other. Fadel would absolutely die if it meant saving Bison and Bison would absolutely die if it meant saving Fadel. Even when it comes to Kant and Style we see that neither brother (no matter how much love they feel) will break from the other even if come next week, they have deferring feelings about this new information.

It’s also very important for “Mom’s” cause, them being so codependent. With that level of dependency, she only truly needs to manipulate one for the other to stay. They will absolutely never leave without each other. If Fadel needs to stay, Bison will stay too. If Bison needs to stay, Fadel will stay too. Even when they start to dream about a new life and a more normal life that life is still definitively just the two of them. Which obviously has a lot to do with their line of work, but, if their line of work changes and is no longer dangerous, they shouldn’t have to keep people out. The problem that stands with that is that they both dream of having other people and living normal lives but they don’t know what that means in terms of each other. Bison enlisted Kant to find someone for Fadel but he never intended to actually leave Fadel (and by leave I don’t mean never speak to again just not be so attached at the hip). While even in Fadel’s perfect scenario with Style, there was never a point where Bison was not also a major factor. Style and Kant are probably the first time in their lives since their parents died that they had something apart from the other. But even then, they are literally dating best friends. Until one or both of them realize that they can still be brothers and family without being detrimental to the other, they won’t be able to move on. Even when/if they get away from their current life.

[ang3lmoans]

Angel simply nodded at the man’s request. Knowing he would never let either of them get that far under the influence. That wasn’t what he wanted. Feeling the pressure against his hands Angel shifted his gaze. He looked down at their hands and back up to Garam only to see the man looking away. He stayed silent as he listened to the other man. He appreciated him being honest in this moment. Jealousy. It seemed to be the root of their problems. Well and Darius, which Angel made a mental note to talk to. His new friend had been rather affectionate since Garam came. Now that he and Garam spoke, it was time to set proper boundaries with him. Angel did feel terrible for kissing two men in one night. Especially when one of them saw it happen. He could see where Garam was coming from. He would be upset too.Angel continued to listen. Taking in everything Garam had to say. He wasn’t a fan of the man downing himself. This is what made him interrupt, “Garam…Garam listen to me. Let’s not worry about that right now. Okay?” He spoke softly placing his hand on the man’s cheek. Angel leaned slightly to get a better view of his face. “Neither of us is ready to choose anyone. I’m enjoying whatever we have going now. No pressure. No titles, just me and you. Okay?” Angel was now leaning forward whispering in the man’s ear. He could tell Garam was getting tense thinking of Axel breaking in. Now was not the time to tell him he already did. Now he was trespassed from the building. He needed the man to feel safe. Angel hated himself for it but he continued to keep quiet. “Garam, I’m sorry he destroyed your apartment. That must have been a lot to deal with on your own” Angel’s face dropped slightly and began rather serious. It was making more sense why his best friend was cold when he returned home. It wasn’t just the kiss. It seemed to be many factors that came into play. Angel ran his thumb over the man’s cheekbone and allowed his hand to slip to Garam’s neck. “Today we can make some phone calls to have more security put in. I’ve already been thinking of getting a camera for the door. Maybe a code that we give to no one.” Angel began spouting ideas nothing to calm his best friend down. As his hand moved to his neck Angel’s fingers played with the ends of his hair, a small smile gracing his lips. “We can get a bat. I said I’ll take care of you. I meant that.” He said quietly as he pressed a gentle kiss to Garam’s neck. “Now can we go get these pancakes you want? Now I’m craving them. What do you say?” Now whispering against his neck. Angel pulled back now and pulled his touch away as he stood up. “Let’s make a day of it. We can get pancakes at this great spot I know. Take a walk over to the mall. Look at some cameras. Maybe even buy one. Oh! Stop at the art store. I need some supplies. Even grab lunch, maybe? What do you say?” Angel chose a secret weapon. A pout and big eyes as he clasped his hands together. He began to whine begging the man to say yes. It took a lot of strength to keep from laughing but he was desperate. He didn’t want to be sad anymore. These heavy and tough conversations were taking a lot out of him. “Pleaseeee baby” he whined once more.

if you remember. garam rolled his eyes and let out a long quiet breath as if to say of course he remembered. though he couldn't exactly recall what the two talked about, if they really even talked at all, but he could remember what happened. to an extent, anyways. his demeanor shifted drastically once angel told him how he knew garam had a hardon. he felt the blood rush from his head, a sort of panicked numbness settling in his hands as he gripped as tightly as he could onto the blanket that still left his legs concealed. he felt it, angel actually felt his dick pressing against him. this was so embarrassing, definitely not how garam imagined the first contact would go. but at least he hadn't tried to push further, he had the common sense at the time to do his best to hide the fact. "i must have fallen asleep after that, too. when i've been drinking, don't ever let me go past just kissing... okay?" he was really worried, mostly about the fact that he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop if angel had given him any sort of leeway. he'd never been the type to keep going or push for more when somebody denied him but knowing the feelings between them were mutual, he feared that, being drunk, he would forget about what angel has been through and pressure him into going further. garam also... just really did not want their first time to happen while he was under the influence. he wanted to be able to remember every single second of it, he wanted to enjoy every feeling instead of those feelings being controlled by alcohol. when angel began talking about their fight last night, all garam wanted was to pull away from him but he feared that angel would think it was an act done out of rejection when that was far from the true reason. garam felt so guilty for what he'd said, ashamed of the accusations he made. the smaller man just sat there, his grip on angel's hand tightening for a moment before his whole body relaxed. it was good to hear that angel was seeking professional help for what he'd been through, garam would have felt worse knowing that angel was suffering in silence, by himself. he knew he wasn't very good with dealing with his emotions, he often jumped into things too quickly and latched on to anybody that showed an interest in him. that's partially why they were both in the predicament they were in, because garam lived with rose colored glasses permanently attached to his face. he didn't want to see the obvious red flags, he chose to believe there was good in everybody. "it was my fault," he admitted, turning his body to face angel. "i said things that i knew would hurt you because i was... i was jealous. you kissed somebody else and i saw, i didn't like it. i kept bringing darius up because i do want to be friends with him, too, so you don't feel like you have to choose between us. i wasn't lying but that wasn't the only reason." garam looked away from angel, obviously ashamed of himself at this point. "you deserve someone so much better than me, someone who actually sees you and who picks you first, someone who doesn't use you. i've brought you so much trouble and i hate myself for it. i'm afraid of what might happen to you if you do choose me." garam continued, looking back to angel once again. "he went to my apartment after he hit me, i knew that he'd go there so that's why i came here instead of going back home. i'm sure he got mad that i wasn't answering, he has a key so he probably just let himself right in. it looked like a bomb exploded in there when i went to grab my things. he knows i'm here, you really aren't safe as long as i'm with you." he didn't even want to think about what could happen if axel managed to get inside while they were home, while they were sleeping, or showering. completely vulnerable. "i should have brought my bat with me."

[citrusses]

@sweet-s0rr0w made the most beautiful post about drarry celebrating christmas in her fics, so I took a stab at it, too. Merry christmas and happy holidays all!

OORU drarry spend Christmas Eve with the Malfoys—formal, stuffy, suffocating. Lucius and Narcissa are not fans of Harry but Draco has made it clear that if they are not both welcome, neither will attend. It’s all very polite and painful. Everyone is trying; no one is certain it’s worth it. Christmas Day, however, is spent with Sirius and Remus, and it’s perfect and cozy and all four of them take turns get embarrassingly sentimental about it: about finding a family and being that for each other and getting a bit weepy into his champagne. Harry loves how Draco fits in so well with his godfathers now. Harry is thinking he should ask Draco to move in with him; he feels the uncertain flare of that old fear of rejection when he considers it, finds it terrifying, and resolves to press on in spite of it.  

Gemini in Retrograde drarry are at Grimmauld, where Draco lives, with Scorpius home for the holidays. Scorpius still thinks it’s kind of gross that anyone would want to date his dad, but he’s also never had such a happy Christmas since before Narcissa died. They exchange presents on Christmas Eve; Draco and Scorprius shock each other by picking perfect presents for one another (it’s new, for them). Harry “helps” their house elf make dinner (marking the first time they’ve had an edible meal on Christmas in years). All three of them go to the Burrow for lunch on Christmas Day, the tradition that started the first year Harry and Draco were together. While Scorprius is still working up the courage to properly talk to Victoire, he has none of that shyness when it comes to pick-up Quidditch in the garden. Draco and Harry play, too—Draco flies all the time, now. Harry is still better than him. 

Isle of Ogygia drarry are at the lighthouse, still — ostensibly they’re both working on getting Draco’s sentence reduced, but both of them are more than a bit nervous about leaving the island when the time comes. Their communication about this difficult subject needs work. However, Christmas in the lighthouse is beautiful—the place has been transformed into a real home, and the spellwork has been smoothed out, and the Christmas tree that Neville helped Harry safely transport there is thriving. It’s storming outside, but it’s warm inside, and they have more food than they could possibly ever eat, and they end up not opening presents until the evening because they spend the whole day shagging. They both think they’re being very funny and clever and ended up getting each other the exact same dry, unreadable encyclopedias for Christmas. 

Löyly drarry spend every Christmas traveling somewhere new. They like to alternate between cold and warm destinations: cold places mean shopping at Christmas markets, hearty meals, and saunas if they can find them, and sex on rugs in front of blazing fireplaces; warm places mean dips in the ocean, and dinners and cold wine in the open-air, and Harry watching Draco's long, solid body turn pink in the sun in a way that makes him weak. Draco considers it his duty to become an expert in each country’s specific magical traditions; if there’s sex magic to be found, that’s all the better. Draco and Harry have been forbidden from returning to at least one country because of a public incident involving said sex magic. It was, they both think, worth it. 

@jtimu @arminaa8 @xalandrix @thecouchsofa @greattemptation @garagepaperback @sorrybutblog @nv-md and I'm seconding everyone sweet tagged, too, if you want to share how your drarries spend the holidays. if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged, and tag me please!

[kickingitwithkirk]

Christmas Wish

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1975

Warnings: Some cursing, bit of flangst

For: @starrylanex @spnfanficpond secret santa exchange

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Opening the bar's door, you sigh in happiness as warm air flows outward. While Vancouver wasn’t the coldest place you’d lived, the dampness made it feel worse. Hanging up your outerwear, you make a beeline to the bar and order from the holiday drink menu.

Thanking the bartender, you sip on the Spiced Silver Bell, gazing about, understanding why it’s the SPN cast's favorite hangout when Jared's voice booms over the party noises. “Hey, Y/N! I thought you bailed on us tonight!” Spotting them crowded in a circular booth, you squeeze in next to him, noticing the tipsy flush on his face, “I got stuck doing last-minute ADR thanks to a couple of petulant children on set today.” 

Jared gives an unabashed laugh and slides you a half-filled cup of eggnog when Mark piped up. “Don’t drink that, luv, it’ll put hair on your chest.” 

So, it has finally come: your trial by fire as the newest cast member and that onscreen Christmas gag flash through your mind. Determined to prove you can roll with this crew, knock back the overly rum-laden nog without a flinch. “Damn, sweetheart, color me impressed!” Jensen said, sitting down, draping his arm across the seat back behind you. You grin and hold the out cup, asking, “Please, sir, I want some more.”

****

It’s late into the night, and most everyone is well into their cups (except Mark), sharing what holiday plans they’d made when you felt Jensen’s fingers playing with your hair, making all sorts of naughty ideas about the man you’ve had a crush on for ages run rampant when you realize he’s speaking to you. Your huh response makes him chuckle, “I said your ass is ringing.” You felt his broad hand sliding slowly down your back before dipping into your pocket, retrieving the phone, felt a sudden panic seeing the number and knowing how mischievous Jensen gets when drinking, started wrestling him for it. But it's too late, and in his best British accent, he answers…

“Y/N Y/L/N, wanton sex goddess, with a very bad man between her thighs.”  

Jensen’s eyes widened. He sat straight and spoke most respectfully: “Mr. Y/LN, I...I apologize. Yes, sir, my mama raised me to know better, sir. " Jared was in hysterics, and Jensen flipped him off while handing you the phone. You put on your sweetest voice while glaring at Jensen. “Hi, Daddy! How are you? Give me a sec; I can barely hear you.”

Once outside, you regret not grabbing your coat, feeling Vancouver's damp coldness seeping through your thin shirt, and start to pace back and forth to stay warm. “Can you hear me? Yes, sir, I’m sorry about that. My coworkers tend to get silly after a few. What were you saying? Oh, when do you head out?” 

You’re filled with that particular disappointment you knew too well, having been raised by a single father in the military. Being a brat has prepared you for the life of a working actor, never knowing how long any job would last or where you’d end up next. The downside was that your father often deployed to places you couldn’t go and missed a few holidays, birthdays, and other milestones in your life. 

Peering through the window at the ongoing merriment inside felt a twinge of envy. “Yes, sir, I’m disappointed too. Perhaps we can try again next year. Be safe, love you.” You sit down and locate the information needed to cancel your holiday trip. You must have been outside longer than you realized when a warm coat draped around your shivering shoulders looked up to see Jared's and Jensen's concerned expressions.

****

Jensen had begun wondering what was taking you so long when he walked to the bar front and saw you sitting at one of the outdoor tables, typing on your phone. Shaking his head, he grabbed his coat, knowing Jared would be right behind. Draping the coat on your shoulders, neither could miss the unshed tears glistening in your eyes. Pulling up the other chairs, they sat down with you, and Jensen asked, “I take it your dad's not going to make it?” 

 “Yeah, he got called up for some yada yada. Wouldn’t you know it? The one time I didn't have a backup plan.” Jared frowned, “You canceled the whole trip?” You wave the phone, “Dad was using his military discount for the plane tickets.” You weren't making above scale since you hadn’t been in the business long. “I checked around, but the fees are out of my budget.”

 “So what are you going to do now?” Jensen asks, and you shrug, “I’ll just hang around till hiatus is over.” You miss the look the guys exchange as the three of you return to the bar; you pause. “Do me a favor. Keep this between us. I don’t need everyone feeling sorry for me.” 

Oh, jingle bell,s batman smells

Robin laid an egg

The god-awful singing outside your apartment’s front door jerks you awake, wishing upon the Christmas star that you hadn’t had that fourth eggnog last night; stumbled around the unpacked moving boxes, yanking open the door to find Jensen, clad in an elf hat and ugly Christmas sweater, continuing his off-key caterwauling when you neighbors poke their heads out, scowling as his voice boom out the song's outro.

The batmobile lost its wheel, and the Joker got away!

You hustle him in before awkwardly waving to your shocked-looking neighbors and shutting the door. You close your eyes and slump against it, noticing the guy has become eerily quiet. Cracking open one eye, Jensen, who is more reserved than you or Jared (who literally and metaphorically showed his rear end many times), is blushing to the top of his elfin ears and comments, “Wow, I didn’t know you had a tattoo by your Lady Jane.” Snatching the afghan off the couch, you wrap it around yourself and ask, “If you’re done with classic literature references, mind telling me what the hell you’re doing here?”

“Jared and I got to talking, and we couldn’t let you stay in Van for Christmas by yourself.” You crossed your arms, “And?” He scratched the back of his head, “We umm, well, we rock, paper, scissored to see which of us you’re staying with, and I won.” 

“I can’t believe you guys!” You huff in annoyance, but Jensen sticks out his full bottom lip and makes that pouty face you can’t resist, “Okay, you win. Can I at least know where we’re going so I can pack? What a minute, strike that. I thought you were going home for the holidays?”

“It ended up being more of a couples thing.” Jensen awkwardly says, and you nod, understanding why it’d be uncomfortable with his recent break up with his longtime fiancée. “And Jared bought you some clothes for the trip.” He pointed to a bag you hadn’t noticed, and you groaned, “Oh god, please tell me there’s not a string bikini in there.”

Driving alone with Jensen was a much different experience than you’d imagined. You were used to having an overly hyper-sasquatch in the car. 

But neither felt the need to fill the space with constant chatter, comfortable in each other’s presence; the stretches of silence during the trip weren’t awkward. And sometimes you got a concert for one when Jensen would sing along with the radio. 

Passing through the small, historic town near your destination, you began telling Jensen about visiting a similar place as a child. He asks about the other places you’ve been to, and before you know it, he’s turning into a long drive. 

You glimpse the luxury mountain home in the evening light filtering through the trees. “Holy smokes! You rented this?” You inquired as he parked in front of the three-door garage. “No. A friend of mine is out of the country and lent it to me.”  

Shouldering your duffel, you follow him in and stop in your tracks, taking in the main room (holy moly, it’s bigger than your apartment). Despite its size, it felt homey with its natural woods and rock fireplace all aglow. Jensen bumped your shoulder, “Come on, speechless. Let’s unload the car, then I’ll give you the ten-cent tour.”

The days flew by in a whirlwind. Each one presented a new adventure for the two of you, doing something the other had never done before.

Jensen took you tobogganing, and you got him in snowshoes. You couldn’t stop laughing because he moved like a penguin. You talked him into ice fishing (something he’d never do again because he almost froze his balls off) but made it up to Jensen by cooking the best-steamed trout he’d ever eaten. 

There were trips to the quaint town where he would drag you into all its small shops, shocking you how much he liked shopping. Later, he’d take you to the local pub for warm drinks or dinner if neither of you wanted to cook.

Christmas Day arrives, and after a leisurely morning, Jensen wants to take you skiing, bewildering you, and ask why since you’ve demonstrated how uncoordinated you are when ice skating. Reassuring that he’ll take the easy slopes till you get the hang, you reluctantly agree. Jensen found he needed the patience of Job because your legs kept wobbling like a giraffe,  crisscrossing the skis and landing on your jacksie in every turn. You call it a day after your third run, telling him to enjoy himself, you’ll be in the bar.

Jensen shows up a couple of hours later, worn but happy, and after consuming a warming drink, you head out. When you reach the house, the day spent on the slopes catches up; you notice Jensens not moving too quickly when climbing the steps to the front door and mutually agree it’s time to test out that hot tub on the deck.   

You step out the glass door to find Jensen submerged to his neck in bubbling water. Crossing over, you handed him a bottle of champagne and glasses. You felt his eyes on you as he fiddled with the corkscrew. “Guess it's a good thing you’ve already seen me in the altogether, but remind me to kill Jared when we return.” Before he can ask, you drop it and watch his eyes pop, along with the bottle's cork, at the thong bikini that leaves little to the imagination as you climb in.

Taking the offered glass, you sip on it before sitting it by your head and sinking till the waters over your sore body. After a while, you are completely relaxed and slightly tipsy when the question on your mind slips out; feel Jensen's leg twitch.

”Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked about your broken engagement.” Jensen waves it off, and he responds that she’s the one who broke it because she thought he was seeing someone else. “What? When the hell would you have time? You’re on set at least twelve hours a day, not to mention all the cons.” 

“She was looking for an excuse, thought I should have moved on instead of sticking with some show on a low-ranking network. But I am grateful she did dump me.” You weren’t sure you’d processed what he said correctly, which must have shown on your face.

“I’m free to admit she was somewhat correct. I do see someone else almost every day who makes me want more. And since we’ve had this time to get to know each other better, hoping she’s willing to fulfill my Christmas wish and give my grumpy ass a shot?”

You move to him and, straddling his thighs, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “If you promise not to make me go skiing again, I’ll make all your Christmas wishes come true.” 

[athletearrhythmia]

Needles coming up again

First wanted to reference back my thoughts on this from awhile ago:

but I also wanted to say some of the comments I'm seeing around aren't oriented to harm reduction, they're just tearing down people who engage in needle play and post it. Which is not going to save anyone. It's going to galvanize and sequester folks which will cascade into riskier behavior.

I guess what gets my goat about it especially is why I've pulled back from a good number of folks, which is engaging in dark cardio play as a means or extension of self harm. People know this stuff is dangerous and stupid, you don't need to remind them. That's not going to "wake them up". Some people by comparison just... like doing it. Neither case will respond to this approach.

I don't offer a definitive solution, i just don't vibe with yelling at people. I appreciate things like folks declaring that they'll disengage from the content: that I think does something.

So here's my additional thoughts to tack on to my last post:

If your perception of reckless behavior is that it doesn't matter because your life is so bad or meaningless that the consequences can't make it worse, you're depressed and you need help. Getting help isn't easy. But you need it.

If you feel a strong desire or need to do this for sexual gratification, you need to find healthier outlets. I struggle with this immensely myself. I'm open about liking and engaging with this content and some of its creators. The best I can do for myself is dark roleplay or using already existing content, and playing with generally safer dark play (which will always carry its own risk). The ideal would be to not find it gratifying. I don't know how to.

You should never engage with someone whose relationship to you is conditional on risking your health-- people you actually talk to or "fans" of your content. Anyone pressuring you to play with needles, especially when you're on the fence or have expressed you don't want to, doesn't have your best interests in mind. If you walk back wanting to do it, regardless of if you ever have done it, avoid the people who don't support your decision.

I'm never not going to end a public discussion of needle play without reemphasizing its danger. The possible bad outcomes are catastrophic and there's almost no way to mitigate the risk.

I'll add as well that the community has an obligation (IMO) to make sure newer or younger participants know how dangerous this kind of play is. Don't allow people to stay naive.

[mochegato]

Mistletoe Mayhem

“Explain it to me again,” Jon prompted as he trailed behind Damian.

Damian’s lips pursed like he was trying to hold back from exploding.  “We are here to assis…”

“Yeah, yeah.  I heard that.  But why are we here?” he asked.  “This seems like something one of the big guys would want to be involved in.”

Damian scoffed and shoved his hands further into his pockets.  The Parisian winter, which had just started brushing the ground with a light dusting of flurries, nipping at his bare fingers.  “We are more than sufficient to assist in ending their rogue.  We do not need others interfering.”

“They are facing an emotion based rogue.  Can you imagine Green Arrow or my father coming here.  It would be like handing the rogue a nuclear weapon.  The local team has been doing an admirable job thus far, but such an opponent would be disastrous.”

“Right,” Jon drawled.  “But you wouldn’t have that issue.”

“Naturally,” he scoffed.

“Naturally,” Jon repeated in a mocking tone.  “But neither would Dick.  So tell me again, why us?”

Damian growled and yanked out his phone, checking it for a moment before glancing around them suspiciously then turning into an alley.  “Because I have a relationship with the local hero team leader.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up.  “Relationship?”

“I have consulted with the leader several times.  Built up a… trust,” he finished with what would have sounded like certainty if Jon didn’t know Damian so well.

He eyed Damian suspiciously.  “Define several times.”

“More than a few,” he growled back.  He looked around again before glowering at Jon.  “Now, let’s get to the roof.”

Damian climbed up to the roof with little effort, followed quickly by Jon who was barely using any powers to keep up.  As soon as they settled, Jon smiled at the festively decorated little patio.  There were lights hung around the sides and wrapped around the railing, ornaments hanging all around, and even a small tree, lit up and decorated brightly enough that people on the street would be able to see it.

“Damian!”

Jon looked on in muted horror as an unfamiliar woman launched herself through a door in the roof and at Damian.  He moved to intercede diplomatically without using any powers.  It was a fairly familiar movement, she was hardly the first person to think they could get close to Damian with false bravado and cheer, clearly broadcasting how utterly unfamiliar they were with Damian.  Damian did not cozy… unless it was with a pet.

But Damian’s compliant expression and prepared stance froze Jon in his movement.  Damian wasn’t bracing against an attack; he was bracing for a familiar weight.  If Jon didn’t know better, he’d even think there was even a bit of excitement in his eyes, which was just about unheard of.

Moments later, Jon was convinced that’s exactly what it was when more shockingly still, she threw her arms around his neck in a tight embrace that he reciprocated, wrapping his arms around her waist.  Her waist!  Damian was touching her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Damian had warned him there was magic in Paris, and it must be true because that was the only excuse he could think of to explain the sight in front of him.

The woman pulled back with a bright smile and shining eyes locked on Damian while his arms lingered at her waist for a few moments before snapping back to his side.  “It's good to see you again!  Welcome to Paris.”

“I’ve been before,” Damian corrected instantly.  Jon winced at his blunt statement and opened his mouth to soften the blow, but Damian continued before he could.  “But it is good to be back… and with you again,” he finished with what could almost be described as a small smile.

The woman beamed back, completely unaffected by the brusque tone.  “Welcome back then.”  She kept eye contact for a few moments, her cheeks growing steadily redder, before turning to Jon expectantly.

Damian’s body language instantly stiffened as if just remembering Jon was there as well.  “And this is my… associate, Jonathan Kent.  Jon, this is Marinette Dupain Cheng.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Marinette,” Jon chirped, eagerly offering his hand.

“It’s nice to meet a friend of Damian’s,” she giggled.

Jon cocked his head to the side, his eyes sliding between Damian and Marinette suspiciously.  “How did you know I was his friend?”

Damian harumhed and crossed his arms in annoyance but Marinette smirked, a teasing twinkle in her eyes.  “He said associate without disgust.  You must be a really good friend.”

“His best,” Jon confirmed.

“You are most assuredly not,” Damian scoffed.

“Well, it’s nice to meet his best friend,” she nodded in mock solemnity.

“I am talking.  And at a volume you definitely can both hear, especially you,” he hissed with a not too gentle shove at Jon’s shoulder as he stepped between him and Marinette.

“We’re aware,” Jon grinned.

Marinette’s smirk eased into a warm, amused smile, her focus back on Damian.  “Thank you again for agreeing to help.  We could really use the assistance.”

“You have been doing an admirable job so far,” he stated, causing Jon to whip his head toward him at his words.  That!  That was the strangest, most conclusive evidence of magic he’d seen so far.  Compliments were typically hard fought from Damian, most of his team had never received more than a ‘not terrible’, and she had just stepped into a positive observation with ease.

“Thank you,” she blushed.  “But I can admit we are surviving not succeeding.”  She gook a deep breath and glanced over to Jon with a small smile and nod.  “Have you gotten the rundown?”

His expression instantly transformed, all mirth evaporating and getting replaced by a serious set to his lips.  “Magic villain.  Infects others to do his dirty work based on negative emotions.  The team of local, also magic, heroes have containment covered but are having issues tracking him.  That’s where I come in.  Listen for any suspicious conversations and search for hidden lairs.  If I discover either, track them down and see if anyone with a mask is hanging around.”

She nodded along with the excessively pared down analysis.  “Any maniacal laughter or monologuing, get on it,” she ordered lightly, but her voice hardened as she continued.  “I don’t know how the lair thing is going to work though.  This is Paris.  There are more deep, dark, hidden crypts and bunkers than even the people living above them know about.  Maybe focus on listening for any fluttering instead.  There shouldn’t be any butterflies or too many bugs this time of year except for the akuma.  I don’t know if they actually make noise you can detect though.  Magic and all…”

She looked down, her brow furrowed in consideration for a moment before she seemed to remember they were there.  She shot Jon a strained smile.  “Sorry.  It would be the best Christmas present ever though.  I wouldn’t be able to thank you enough.”  She turned to Damian with a warmer smile and squeezed one of his hands.  “Or you, for arranging all of this for us.”

“We will help end this.”  She smiled even wider when he squeezed her hand back.  It almost looked like he was going to take a step closer to solidify his declaration, but the motion was stopped by a sudden ringing and an indignant screech from the street below.

They leaned over the railing in time to see a woman trying to run and dodge away from a sprig of mistletoe with ringing bells that got progressively louder the further she ran, and a man who looked utterly lost, getting dragged behind her as if he was being pulled by an invisible rope.  If anything, his legs were trying to peddle backward, but it had no effect on his trajectory, instead, they were slipping and sliding on the slick ground.

Down the street, a gigantic figure that appeared to be some combination of Cupid and Santa who had gotten mauled by Swamp Thing leapt with ease onto a distant building’s roof.  “I am Mistletoe Mayhem,” he declared.  His voice thundered throughout Paris.  “I will make it so nobody can be rejected and laughed at.  Everybody will be with whoever they want to be with.”

 “Well, that’s incredibly problematic,” Marinette muttered.  She sighed and massaged her forehead.  “It appears you’re going to get your chance sooner than expected.  Come on, let’s go into my room and I can transform.  I’ll head out and you guys can change after I leave.”

A flash of light and two stunned foreign heroes later, she was on a distant roof assessing Mistletoe Mayhem.  “Well, at least it seems pretty straight forward,” Chat commented landing next to her.  “It’s like a Christmas present to us.  Santa remembered us,” he swooned dramatically.

Ladybug snorted but nodded in agreement then nodded to Rena Rouge and Carapace as they also joined them.  “And doesn’t appear to be too violent, though forcing people to kiss someone else against their will like this kind of is assault.”

“Not kind of,” Carapace scoffed.

“Ah, yeah, not cute and quirky at all,” Chat nodded.  “I can see that.”

“And Pegasus had a theory on the object,” Rena interjected.

“Pegasus is here too?” Chat asked, head whipping around, but freezing at seeing two figures emerge from the shadows.  “Is that Superboy?  Superboy is here?”  He froze.  “Wait… is having a superpowered hero here good or bad?”

“Yes,” Carapace nodded sagely but eyed the two foreign heroes warily.

“Oh my God,” Rena squealed.  “I have to…”

“Hopefully good,” Ladybug interrupted before she could get carried away with the interview she knew Rena was dying to do.  “Superboy, this is Chat Noir, Carapace, and Rena Rouge.  Robin, you’ve met Chat, of course, and this is Carapace and Rena.  They’re here to help track down Hawk Moth while we’re fighting the akuma.”

“Awesome, dudette,” Carapace nodded.  “Welcome, dudes.  Let me know if you need help doing your thing.”

“Thanks,” Superboy smiled.  “We’ll let you know.”

“We will complete our task.  You need to focus on your task,” Robin commanded.  “Splitting your attention can cause harm to your teammates.”

Carapace raised an eyebrow and met Chat’s gaze.  “Right,” Chat drawled.  He turned his attention fully to Robin.  “So…”

“Look out!” Ladybug yelled and dove for Chat.  She managed to get to him just in time, knocking him to the ground moments before the beam could hit him, as everyone scattered to safety.  They rolled together a few meters and froze, bracing themselves for any indication of the bells that were plaguing so many other Parisians.

When there was no indication of ringing, Ladybug let out a breath and finally opened her eyes to see a hand extended in front of her.  She lifted her eyes as she took the proffered hand finally meeting Robin’s gaze… and groaned as bells instantly started ringing above her.  “I thought we got away with it,” she grumbled.

“This is why you don’t split your attention,” Robin growled at Chat.  “If the akuma was more dangerous she could have been hurt or killed.”

“But he’s not and she wasn’t, and if he had been, I wouldn’t have been,” Chat chuckled.  “And at least we know how to make them stop.  You just have to…”

“No,” Robin interrupted.

Ladybug quirked her lips to the side in thought.  Surely it didn’t have to be on the lips… did it?  It’s still a kiss when her Maman would kiss her cheek or her Papa would kiss her forehead.  They could… do that, right?  Even if she wanted to do more, it wasn’t fair to force him.  “We could try…”

“Absolutely not,” he stated definitively.  “That is not an acceptable option.”

Marinette blinked at him.  She didn’t exactly want to be forced to kiss in front of everyone either, but he spit it out like the very idea of kissing her disgusted him.  She’d thought they were building toward something, that there was a fondness, sometimes she even thought it was more like affection, a restrained flirting.  But she had clearly misinterpreted his actions.  It wasn’t that he kept his emotions close to his chest, opening up to her occasionally.  He just wasn’t interested.

“Right,” she nodded curtly and took a step away from him.  The bells rang louder, but she would rather deal with the clatter than make Damian uncomfortable.  “Well then, we will have to plan to stick close together.”  She glowered at the bells loudly ringing.  “Maybe that will either blend in with the rest or we can use it to our advantage later, assuming Chat doesn’t get hit.”

“As I was saying before,” Rena popped in with Carapace on her heels, “Pegasus had an idea what the object might be, which is why we came out.”

“Without knowing who it is?” Chat asked.

“Without knowing who it is,” she confirmed.  “If you look at his costume, it’s covered in Mistletoe, right?”  The group, except for Robin and Carapace nodded like it was a given.  “But that’s not mistletoe.  The berries on all those are red.”

“Well, yeah, Mistletoe berries are red, aren’t they?” Superboy asked, uncertain for the first time about something he’d been confident in for his entire life.  “I see them everywhere.”

“Apparently not.  Red just sells better on decorations.  The berries are actually white,” Rena grinned.  “And if you look carefully, the sprig of mistletoe at the center of his chest is the only one with white berries.”

Ladybug rose up to look over the edge of the roof they were hiding behind, her eyes narrowed as she studied the akuma.  Robin joined her, positioning himself so he was brushing against her despite having plenty of room around them, a fact Chat proved by popping up next to them a few moments later with a good distance between him and Robin.  “See it?”

“Yes,” Ladybug and Robin answered at the same time.

“Perfect,” Chat cheered.  “What’s the plan?”

Ladybug turned away as she planned while Robin kept his eyes toward the akuma.  It only took a few seconds before her scrunched expression smoothed out into a bright smile.  “Superboy, you start searching.  We need you focused entirely on that.”  He looked between her and Robin, a smirk growing on his lips.  Robin always thought he knew best and wanted to lead, even when he was teamed with older heroes, so to see him accept Ladybug’s lead with no pushback was, yet more proof magic existed, and she was the embodiment of it.  He saluted Ladybug and flew off.

“Chat, you’ll use your clowning to our advantage.  You can distract like nobody else.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded and spun his staff.  “Always happy to be the center of attention.”

Carapace scoffed, but immediately snapped to attention when Ladybug turned her focus to him.  “Carapace, can you create a barrier around the device he’s using to shoot out the mistletoe so he can’t get anyone else?”

Carapace looked down at his shell analytically for a few seconds before slowly nodding.  “I think I can.”

“You think…” Robin hissed, finally breaking his focus on the horizon to glare at Carapace.

“I do,” Carapace nodded and met Robin’s glare with a smirk.  “You’re not the first to ask.  Several teachers have asked the same thing.  Also, don’t split your attention.”  He nodded toward the akuma with a smirk.  “Dangerous to do that.”

Robin growled and took a step toward him but Ladybug’s hand brushing against his chest stopped him instantly.  “Robin and I will grab the item.”  She shot Robin a look to gauge his agreement.  She needed him completely in agreement on this.  They were going to have to work in sync despite never having worked together before.  He didn’t meet her eyes, having returned his gaze to their surroundings, but he gave a curt head bob.  “Okay, Chat, Rena, you know what to do.  Robin, you ready?”

It took only a few minutes for everyone to be in position and Rena’s flute to whistle, or at least Ladybug assumed it whistled, she couldn’t quite hear much above the bells.  With a breath and a nod to Robin, Ladybug made her approach.  She jumped toward the akuma.  “To the left,” she announced loudly.

Robin reacted a step behind her jumping to the opposite side to balance her, still within the distance they’d been allowed by the akuma’s curse, but midjump he was suddenly yanked to the left and into the akuma’s shoulder.  He moved quickly to avoid the akuma’s blind swing.  At the same moment, Ladybug was yanked back toward him just enough to put her within the akuma’s reach.  His wild movement caught her hard enough to send her flying several streets away.  Robin prepared himself for the pull just in time as he arced through the air after her and landed incredibly elegantly considering the circumstances.

He rushed over to Ladybug, who had crashed into a wall significantly less elegantly, leaving a very distinct and deep impression in the bricks.  “Are you okay?” he asked, though it came out closer to a scream in order to be heard over the bells.  His eyes scanned her body, giving her head special attention.

“Yeah,” Ladybug grumbled.  “Magic suit and all.”  She took a breath and brushed the rubble off her body.  She tried to ignore the shock of electricity that shot through her when Robin joined her, brushing his nimble fingers against her shoulders and hair.  “What happened?”

He huffed before answering.  His hands clenched as he pulled them from his work helping her.  “When I work with a partner, usually, we go in opposite directions so we don’t give our opponent an easy target.”

“But we can’t get too far apart,” she answered back louder and perhaps harsher than she meant to, but it was frustrating not only to be in the situation but to be heard over the bells.

“I didn’t anticipate the curse shrinking the allowed distance.  I will anticipate next time,” he groused, barely loud enough to be heard, but the hard set of his expression was impossible to miss.

“I need you to stay with me.  We need to move as one,” she yelled.

“That is unrealistic,” he yelled back.  “It takes years to be able to anticipate each other’s movements like that.”

Ladybug sighed and looked down, eyes squeezed shut in thought.  He wasn’t exactly wrong.  The kind of anticipation they would need to move as one, considering the erratically shrinking distance, took experience.  She and Chat had learned to move in sync pretty quickly, but they were literally chosen because they were perfect compliments, and regardless it still took them a few battles to move together.

But if she and Robin couldn’t work in tandem, there was no way they could succeed.  They would have to switch their task with someone else.  The problem was everyone was already where they worked best, except them.  So, the team was going to have to take less optimal roles to fill in the gaps.  And at this point, the bells were ringing so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, let alone what anyone was saying to her, so maybe it was best if they sat it out.

“If you… we,” she corrected quickly, “want to avoid the kiss…” she turned away from him pretending not to notice the way his head snapped toward her at her statement, “then we…”

“We should do it,” he barked.

She blinked at him.  “The kiss?” she asked uncertainly.

He nodded, his eyes still searing into her like he was searching for something.  “We don’t have to if you want to avoid it, but we cannot contribute ideally like this.”

She nodded.  He was right.  She just wished it wasn’t so thoroughly against his will.  “Okay,” she said quietly, definitely not loudly enough to be heard, but he clearly understood.

He stepped up to her carefully keeping his body from actually touching her.  He searched her face for a moment before closing his eyes and slowly dipping down to brush his lips gently against hers.  It was barely enough to feel, but it caused a flush that spread throughout her entire body.

It took a beat before she opened her eyes and instantly frowned realizing the bells were still ringing.  Robin was already glaring at them when she lifted her eyes to analyze them, like there might be some instructions written on them somewhere.  “Maybe we need to…” she started, but Robin was ahead of her.

He wound one hand in her hair and the other around her waist, pulling her against him.  She rose up at the same time to crash her lips against his, this time more heated.  His hand in her hair tightened and pulled just enough to angle her head differently allowing him to deepen the kiss.

She let out a quiet whimper that seemed to break something in him.  He released her hair and instead wrapped it around her lower back to pull her closer as he turned them so he could press her against the brick wall.  She wound her arms around his shoulders and arced into him to get as close as possible, seeking some kind of relief from the tingling rush throughout her body, or maybe seeking more.

After an entirely too short amount of time, Robin pulled away just enough to breathe, eyes still closed and breath still coming out in heavy pants.  It took Ladybug a few seconds before she found the resolve to lift her eyes to his face and a few more for him to open his eyes.  “We should…” she started, voice nothing more than a whisper.

He hummed in agreement but didn’t move, not to release her or look away, until a peel of maniacal laughter sounded throughout the city.  A heavy, regretful sigh passed his lips and finally let his hands drop.

“I can stand guard while you get the mistletoe,” he said breathlessly.  “Backup for you.”

Ladybug nodded mindlessly for a few seconds before her brain caught up with what he had said.  “Yeah.  That’s…”  She cleared her throat and took a small step back, allowing the distance to help clear her head.  “That sounds good.  I’ll um…” she pulled out her yoyo and lifted it up for him to see, “I’ll let the team know.”

With their new freedom, the team was able to take down the akuma in a matter of seconds and after talking to the victim, returned to the roof to recoup, minus a still missing Superboy.  “Great job, guys.  Sorry for our mess up.”  Ladybug smiled sheepishly at them.

“Nah, dudette,” Carapace shrugged.  “That was a crazy challenge you had.  Fun for us to watch, though.”

“I want the full story later,” Rena whispered into Ladybug’s ear with a devilish grin.  Ladybug flushed as red as her suit but nodded before shoving her away.  Rena winked at Robin then grabbed Carapace’s hand and bounced away.

“Right, well I need to finish getting ready for the party tonight.  Going to go take down the mistletoe though.  It doesn’t sound so appealing anymore,” Chat grumbled.  “You’re welcome to come too,” he offered to Robin.  “And Superboy too, if he wants.”  He saluted to them and jumped in the opposite direction leaving Ladybug alone with Robin.

Ladybug watched him leave for a few seconds before allowing her eyes to dart toward Robin.  “Why don’t we go back to my place, and we can change?”

He nodded and followed after her, silent for the entire trip, even dropping through the door in her ceiling without a word.  She transformed back to Marinette, which seemed to take some of her bravado with it.  She rocked on her heels waiting for him to break the silence.  When he didn’t after a few seconds, she couldn’t take the silence any longer, which she acknowledged was pretty ironic considering how desperately she’d been hoping for silence just an hour earlier.  “So… the kiss,” she prompted.

He huffed but didn’t respond verbally other than that, preferring to scowl at the ground and cross his arms over his chest like a shield.  Ladybug let out a sad sigh.  Her heart fractured at his sound.  It was definitively the best kiss she’d ever had, but clearly, it hadn’t had the same effect on him.  “I’m sorry,” she offered sincerely.  “I know…”

“No, you don’t,” Robin stopped her.  He took a breath and removed his mask so he could meet her eyes with nothing between them.  “I didn’t want the… first,” the word came out a combination of tortured and hopeful.  His eyes darted away but she recognized the tension in his frame.  It was the same tension she often held, though he wore it a bit more elegantly than she did.  It was an anxious tension rather than a disgusted tension.  “…time we kissed to not be our choice.”

“First?” she uttered, eyes blown wide in shock.

 “You said it was assault,” he continued.  “I don’t want to make you feel like that.  I didn’t want you to kiss me because you had to.  I wanted it to be because you wanted to, but…”

“I did,” she burst out.  His eyes whipped to hers, hope swimming in them.  “I just wasn’t sure if you… wanted… to,” she finished anxiously.

His lips curled up into a soft smile.  He crossed the room in two quick strides, hands already reaching to cup her face before he even took his first step.  “And you still do?” he asked, voice searching.

She smiled brightly back up at him.  “I do.  Very much so.  For a while now.”

He grinned back and kissed her again, just because they wanted to.  His lips met hers, gentle but firm, confident in the presence of more in the future.

Marinette slid her hands up his arms and squeezed his.  She broke the kiss unintentionally with her brimming smile.  “Do you want to go with me to Chat’s party tonight?”

His eyes hardened just a little, just enough to signal a shift in mood.  “Are you okay with me knowing his identity?  And from the sounds of it, the rest of your team hang out together so they will likely be there as well.”

Marinette shrugged.  “They seem okay with it, and I’ve already trusted you with mine.  And I want you to meet my friends.  But if you don’t…”

“I do,” he assured her. “I just want to make sure you are sure.”  He settled a tender kiss on her lips to confirm his statement.  He pulled away with a playful look.  “Do you think we can convince Chat to leave some mistletoe out?  Just for us?  All night?”

She hummed in approval and nestled into his arms.  “Probably.  And if not, we can buy some for ourselves.”