#and merry crisis yet again

[vixentrickz]

🎄✨MERRY CHRISTMAS ✨🎄

to everyone who's celebrating!

and happy holidays to everyone who's celebrating a different holiday or not celebrating at all ✨

everyone else is fighting some akumatized villain (in christmas hats) while these 5 are taking a picture

[wchswift]

ଓ Home for the Holidays

Pairing: Logan Howlett x latina!fem!reader Summary: you're finally dating Logan, and this year for Christmas, your family, not very mutant-friendly, invites you and Logan to the holiday. Content: fluff, a lot of feelings, slightly angst, established relationship, complicated parents but they redeem themselves, not proofread, English isn’t my first language :) Word count: 5k (I got a little carried away) A/N: like I said christmas prompts are all my head has been coming up with lately lol. This one is totally self indulgent... I'm sorry (not really). I really think Logan would get along great with my latin family so this is what I wrote! Merry Christmas to you all!!! 🎄

mdni 𖤐 18+

The world outside was muffled in white. Snow blanketed the grounds of the X-Mansion, smoothing over the jagged chaos that typically defined the lives of its residents. But here, in this room, everything felt still, warm, and safe.

You blinked awake slowly, your cheek resting against the solid plane of Logan’s chest. His steady breathing was a low hum beneath your ear, and the arm he’d slung across your waist anchored you in place, as if he thought you might disappear if he let go.

For a while, you stayed like that, letting the lazy warmth seep into your bones. Mornings like these were rare. Most of your days started with some crisis or other, but the mansion had gone blessedly quiet for the holidays. Even the younger mutants seemed to understand the sanctity of this lull, their usual chatter and chaos replaced with soft laughter and the occasional sound of Christmas music echoing faintly through the halls.

Logan shifted beneath you, his muscles flexing under your cheek as he adjusted his grip. The calloused pads of his fingers traced absentminded circles on your back, a tender gesture you’d come to treasure.

“You’re quiet this morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. “Something on your mind?”

You smiled, too comfortable to move. “Just appreciating this.” You turned your head slightly, nuzzling against him. “Don’t ruin it by talking too much.”

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fair enough.”

The quiet stretched out again, the two of you wrapped in the soft cocoon of blankets and each other. You let your thoughts wander, enjoying the rare chance to simply exist without the weight of responsibility pressing down on you.

And then your phone buzzed.

You groaned, burying your face against Logan as the sound shattered the tranquility. “No,” you mumbled. “Not yet.”

Logan reached over to the nightstand, grabbing the offending device without letting you go. “You gonna answer this, or am I tossing it out the window?” he asked, holding it just out of your reach.

You sat up reluctantly, frowning at the screen. The familiar number made your stomach twist, a mix of excitement and apprehension knotting your insides.

“It’s my family,” you said softly.

Logan’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He just handed you the phone, his steady gaze enough to ground you.

You hesitated, then swiped to answer. “Hello?”

“¡Mija!” Your mother’s voice filled the line, bright and cheerful as ever. “You sound tired. Are you resting enough? Eating well?”

You smiled despite yourself. “Hi, mamá. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Good. Listen, I have some news.” Her tone turned conspiratorial, and you could almost picture her leaning closer, as if you weren’t miles away. “We want you to come home for Christmas. Your papá and I were talking, and it’s been too long since we’ve all been together.”

Your chest tightened. It had been too long. Ever since your powers had manifested, there had been tension, distance. But in recent months, your family had made an effort to mend things, to accept you for who you were. And now, this invitation felt like another step forward.

“I’d love to,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “I really would.”

“Good, good. And—” She hesitated, then plowed ahead, her excitement spilling over. “Bring your boyfriend. Logan, right? We want to meet him.”

You froze, your gaze flicking to Logan, who was watching you with mild curiosity. Your mother’s words echoed in your head, and suddenly, the cozy warmth of the room felt stifling.

“Mija? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” you managed, your throat dry. “I’m here.”

“Well, bring him. And don’t worry—he’s family now, too. We’ll take care of him.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on you. After a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set the phone down, your hands trembling slightly.

Logan tilted his head, his dark eyes narrowing. “What was that about?”

“My family,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended. “They want me home for Christmas. They want us home for Christmas.”

His eyebrows lifted again, but there was no hesitation in his response. “All right.”

“All right?” You stared at him, incredulous. “You’re okay with going?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged, his tone casual, but you could see the flicker of something deeper in his expression. “It’s your family. They’re important to you.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands. “I just… I don’t know how they’ll react. I mean, they’ve been better about accepting me, but this is different. And you…” You trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Logan reached for you, his hand warm and solid as it cupped your cheek. “Hey,” he said softly. “Stop overthinking it. If they’ve got a problem with me, that’s their issue, not yours. But if you want me there, I’m there.”

His certainty steadied you, and you leaned into his touch, releasing a shaky breath. “Of course I do! I do want you there. I just—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted gently. “Stop worrying. We’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Okay. Together.”

Logan leaned back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you were curled up against his side again. The knot of anxiety in your chest loosened slightly, replaced by a tentative sense of hope for having Logan by your side.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, and for a little while longer, the two of you stayed wrapped in the quiet, preparing for the journey ahead.

When it was no longer possible to extend the moment with Logan, you got up and started your day. Since it was close to Christmas, the mansion was quieter and less crowded, giving you a chance to relax alone for a while.

The snow seemed endless, a quiet ocean blanketing the world outside. From the wide windows of the X-Mansion’s common area, it stretched out in every direction, softening the edges of the landscape until it looked like something out of a dream.

You sat on the arm of the couch, watching the scene unfold with the same stillness it seemed to demand. Logan was a shadow in the corner of the room, leaning casually against the doorframe. His presence was like gravity—solid, constant, something you could always feel even when you weren’t looking.

But now, his gaze was fixed on you, sharp and unwavering.

“You’ve been quiet all morning,” he said, breaking the silence. There was no accusation in his tone, only a quiet observation. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You sighed, your breath fogging up the window for just a moment before it vanished. “It’s nothing.”

He let out a low hum, the kind that told you he didn’t believe a word of it. He crossed the room in a few steps, coming to stand beside you. His reflection joined yours in the glass, his dark eyes meeting yours in the faint, distorted version of the world.

“Try again,” he said, his voice softer now.

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “It’s just… the idea of going home, after too long. And bringing you with me.”

His reflection didn’t waver. “You don’t want me to come?”

“No!” The word burst out of you too quickly, and you winced at the sharpness of it. “That’s not it. I already said, course I want you to come, Lo. It’s just—” You hesitated, your thoughts tripping over each other in their rush to the surface. “I don’t know how they’ll be. My family, I mean. They’ve gotten better about… about everything, but it’s still complicated. And you going too—”

You glanced at him, struggling to find the right words. “You’re not exactly… subtle, Logan. You literally have mutant written all over you. You’re like a storm—intense and impossible to ignore. And I love it so much, but my family, they’re…”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“They’re the kind of people who smile through awkward silences and sweep anything messy under the rug,” you finished weakly. “I just—I don’t know if they’ll know what to do with you. And I don’t want them to make you feel like you don’t belong. I don't want them to treat you differently.”

Logan was quiet for a long moment, his gaze still fixed on you. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder.

“You think I care what they think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“They’re your family,” he said simply. “I’m not going for them. I’m going for you.”

There was something so unshakable about the way he said it, as if the answer was as obvious as the ground beneath his feet.

You let out a shaky laugh, your breath fogging up the glass again. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is,” he said, and the quiet conviction in his voice made your chest ache. “They don’t have to like me. Hell, they don’t even have to understand me. But if they love you, then they’ll respect the choices you’ve made. And if they don’t—” His reflection smiled faintly, a wry twist of his lips. “Well, they’ll have to deal with me.”

You shook your head, a reluctant smile tugging at your own lips. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “But I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

Something in your chest unfurled at his words, the knot of anxiety loosening just enough for you to take a deep breath. You leaned against him, your forehead resting against his shoulder. He smelled faintly of pine and smoke, like the forest itself had come to life and taken human form. It was so comforting.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“For what?” he asked in a low voice, his hand coming up to rest on the back of your neck.

“For being you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, and you felt his lips brush against your hair. “Don’t go getting all sentimental on me now, sweetheart.”

You laughed, the sound lighter now, like the snowflakes falling outside. For the first time all morning, the weight in your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The road stretched ahead of you like an endless ribbon, winding through snow-draped trees and frozen lakes that glittered faintly in the pale winter sunlight. The hum of the car engine was the only sound for a while, a quiet rhythm that matched the pulse of your thoughts.

Logan drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the center console where his fingers occasionally brushed against yours. It was a casual touch, almost absentminded, but it anchored you to him in a way words never could.

You watched his profile as he drove, the sharp lines of his face softened by the morning light. There was a quiet intensity about him, like a storm that seemed less threatening and more comforting. He was like a force of nature, capable of demolishing obstacles while also providing a protective haven —a force of nature that could tear down walls and shield you from the worst of the world all at once.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked without taking his eyes off the road.

You smiled faintly. “Are they worth that much?”

“Probably more,” he said, his lips twitching into the smallest of smirks. “But that’s all I’ve got on me.”

You laughed softly, the sound easing the tension in your chest. “I was just thinking about how far we’ve come. I mean, from where we started… to this.”

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “This isn’t just ‘far.’ This is everything.”

His words were so simple, so unshakable, that they left you momentarily speechless. He had a way of doing that—cutting through your overthinking with a clarity that left no room for doubt.

You turned to look out the window, the snow-covered landscape blurring past. “You know, when my powers first showed up, I thought… I thought I’d never have this. A life. Someone like you.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but you felt his hand move, his fingers intertwining with yours on the console. “Guess I’m lucky you were wrong.”

You blinked, surprised by the softness in his voice. When you looked at him again, his eyes were fixed on the road, but there was something unguarded about his expression—a glimpse of the man behind the claws and the growl.

“Logan…”

He shook his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t go getting mushy on me now, sweetheart. We’ve got a long drive ahead.”

You snorted a laugh, leaning back in your seat. The warmth of his hand in yours stayed with you, a quiet reassurance that no matter what waited at the end of this journey, you wouldn’t face it alone.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your family’s house was just as you remembered—warm, inviting, and alive with the kind of chaos that only the holidays could bring.

Lights twinkled along the roofline, and the faint sound of music spilled out into the crisp evening air. As Logan helped you with the bags, the front door swung open, and a wave of noise and warmth hit you like a tidal wave.

“¡Cariño! ¡Por fin!” Your mother was the first to greet you, wrapping you in a hug so tight it stole your breath. “I’ve been waiting all day!”

“Mamá,” you managed, laughing as she fussed over you.

And then her attention shifted to Logan. Her eyes softened, though her tone remained brisk. “And this must be Logan.”

He nodded, his posture relaxed but his expression carefully neutral. “Ma’am.”

Your mother’s lips twitched, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she turned to usher you both inside, chattering about the food, the decorations, and how your father was already working on his second plate.

The rest of the family followed in quick succession, a whirlwind of introductions, hugs, and rapid-fire questions. Logan handled it all with a quiet patience that surprised even you, his gruff demeanor softening just enough to put them at ease.

Your younger cousin tugged at his sleeve, wide-eyed. “Are you really Wolverine? Like, claws and everything?”

Logan raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if to ask, 'Should I?'

You shrugged, trying not to laugh. “Might as well get it over with.”

With a sigh, he extended one hand, the metallic claws sliding out with a faint snikt. Your cousin’s eyes widened further, her jaw dropping.

“Whoa…”

The rest of the family crowded around, their curiosity breaking any lingering tension. Logan didn’t say much, but the faint smirk on his face told you he didn’t mind the attention nearly as much as he pretended to.

As the evening wore on, the chaos began to settle. The smell of food and cinnamon filled the air, and the house hummed with laughter and music. Logan had drifted to a corner of the room, where your father showed him an old photo album.

You watched them from across the room, your heart swelling at the sight of Logan fitting into this world you’d been so afraid to share with him.

“Mija,” your mother said, pulling you aside. Her voice was softer now, her eyes warm. “He’s good for you. I can see it.”

You smiled, your chest tightening with emotion. “He is. More than I ever thought I deserved.”

She cupped your face, her hands warm and familiar. “Don’t ever think that. You deserve everything, and more. I wish I had told you that more often. I'm sorry, nena.”

For the first time in a long while, you believed her.

Dinner had barely ended when the music started, a lively rhythm spilling from the speakers and filling every corner of the house. Chairs were pushed back, plates cleared away, and the living room became an impromptu dance floor.

You watched from the edge of the room, laughing as your cousins dragged reluctant uncles and aunts into the fray. The Christmas lights blinked in time with the beat, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over the scene.

And then you felt a hand on your wrist.

“C’mon,” Logan said, his voice low and warm.

You stared at him, incredulous. “You? Dance?”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been around long enough to pick up a thing or two. Don’t make me regret this.”

Before you could protest, he pulled you onto the floor. The music swelled, and for a moment, you forgot the chaos, the noise, everything but the warmth of his hand on yours and the steady strength of his other hand resting lightly on your waist.

He wasn’t perfect—his steps were a little stiff, and his timing faltered now and then—but his confidence made up for it. You couldn’t stop smiling, even as your family whooped and cheered around you.

“Not bad for a grumpy old man,” you teased, your voice just loud enough for him to hear over the music.

“Careful,” he warned, his smirk widening. “We are at your parents' house but if you keep this up, that won't stop me from punishing you." He whispered against your ear for only you to hear, his voice firm but with a hint of humor.

You laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, and for the first time that night, the weight of your nerves began to lift.

Later, as the music faded into softer melodies and the crowd thinned out, you found yourself in the kitchen, refilling glasses and helping your mother plate desserts.

“That Logan,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “He’s different.”

You froze, unsure of where she was going with this. “Is that… bad?”

She shook her head, her hands deftly arranging cookies on a platter. “No. Just… surprising. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you can tell he means every word. And the way he looks at you…” She paused, her gaze softening. “You deserve that kind of love, cariño. The kind that doesn’t waver.”

Your throat tightened, and you turned back to the counter, suddenly very interested in the stack of plates waiting to be carried out. “Thanks, mamá.”

But before you could continue, the sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention. Your aunt appeared in the doorway, her ever-present smile firmly in place.

“There you are!” she said brightly, stepping into the kitchen as though she hadn’t just been eavesdropping. Her gaze flicked between you and your mother, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “What are we talking about?”

“Logan,” your mother replied, her tone light but guarded.

“Ah,” your aunt said, her smile sharpening at the edges. “He’s… an interesting choice.”

You stiffened, the warmth from your mother’s words quickly fading. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing,” your aunt said breezily, but there was a calculated edge to her voice. She picked up a cookie, examining it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the room. “It’s just—well, a man like that doesn’t seem very… stable.”

Your mother frowned, "Paloma don't start…" she said with a warning tone, but even so, your aunt continued, her tone dripping with faux concern. “No, I just mean, he's a mutant! And with his background—and those claws… He seems a little aggressive too, It must be exhausting, keeping up with someone like him.”

The words hit like a slap, dredging up the old insecurities you’d worked so hard to bury. Your grip on the platter tightened as you struggled to steady your voice. “Don't you dare! You don't know anything about him. Logan is not aggressive, he is a good man, kind and caring.” you said evenly, refusing to rise to her bait.

“Of course, I’m sure he is,” your aunt said, her smile widening. “But he is still a mutant, don’t you think—”

"And my daughter is also a mutant, Paloma, so you better stop this, " your mother replied, her face completely serious now.

"I didn't mean to offend, I'm sorry," she said sarcastically. "But it's funny you should say that since you never were okay or wanted to deal with the fact that she was a mutant either."

Your breath caught your throat, chest tightening as you felt anger take over.

"You're right, I lost my relationship with my daughter just because I didn't understand her, and I was wrong. All I want most is to make up for it and change. So I won't accept any more of your prejudice, not with my daughter or with Logan." Your mother's voice was firm and steady, her posture confident and despite the moment I smiled to see the change in her. The way she defended you.

“Everything is fine? Anyone got something to say about me?”

Before your aunt could answer, the deep, gruff voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing the room. You turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable but his presence commanding.

Your aunt faltered, her confidence wavering under the weight of his gaze. “I—no, of course not,” she stammered, her smile faltering as she fidgeted with the cookie in her hand.

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, and his voice was calm but firm as he added, “Good. We wouldn't want to cause a scene on Christmas, right?”

Your aunt nodded, muttered something about needing to check on the drinks, and scurried out of the kitchen, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.

Logan crossed the room in a few strides, his hand finding yours. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, grounding you. “You okay?” he asked softly. “Need a hand?” This time he looked at your mother, his gaze light and tone gentle.

Your mother stepped aside with a knowing smile. “She’s all yours.”

You smiled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Logan’s hand tightened around yours. “C’mon,” he said, his voice low and meant only for you. “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

The night had settled into a comfortable lull by the time Logan led you outside. The snow had stopped falling, but the cold still bit at your cheeks and turned your breath into faint clouds in the air.

“Busy night,” he said, his tone dry but not unkind.

You laughed softly, the sound muted by the quiet of the world around you. “You handled it pretty well.”

He shrugged, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets. “Your family’s all right. Loud, but all right.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “That’s high praise coming from you.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The silence stretched out, not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Finally, he turned to you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen it. “You were scared about bringing me here,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble.

You let out a breath, watching it curl into the night air. “I didn’t want it to go wrong—for you, or for them. I thought maybe… maybe I was asking too much.”

Logan stepped closer, his presence like a shield against the cold. “You never ask too much from me,” he said firmly. “But you’ve got to stop carrying all this by yourself. You’re not alone in this anymore.”

His hand found yours, the roughness of his fingers a contrast to the gentleness of his touch. “You don’t need to protect me. And you sure as hell don’t need to protect them from me. That’s not how this works.”

Your throat tightened, his words cutting through the tangled mess of your insecurities. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

He tipped your chin up, his eyes locking onto yours. “You won’t.” The certainty in his voice was unshakable, and it felt like he was holding more than just your gaze—it felt like he was holding you together.

"I can't lose you, Logan," you breathed, desperation lacing your words. "And sure as hell I wasn't going to lose you because of my family." As he leaned closer, the frigidness of the world outside seemed to fade, replaced by the warmth radiating from him. His forehead grazed yours, a gentle touch that sent a shiver of connection coursing through you.

His breath was warm, his voice a whisper that carried only for you. “Whatever happens, it’s you and me. That’s not changing.”

The words wrapped around your heart, soft and unyielding all at once. “I love you,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it.

He smiled then, a rare, fleeting thing that lit his face like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I love you too,” he said, the rough edges of his voice softening with the weight of the truth.

And then he kissed you, slow and deliberate, like there was nothing in the world but this moment. His hands moved to your waist, grounding you, making you feel like everything would be okay.

Later that night, the house was quieting down. The children had been sent to bed, though the muffled sound of giggles hinted they weren’t asleep just yet. Most of the adults had retreated to the kitchen for coffee and one last helping of dessert. You sat with Logan on the couch, the glow of the Christmas tree casting soft shadows across the room.

The space felt smaller now, more intimate, as if the noise and chaos from earlier had wrapped itself around the house and left behind only warmth. Logan had his arm draped along the back of the couch, and you leaned against him, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to you.

“Y’know,” he said, his voice low, “I’ve been around a long time. Seen a lot of families. Never really… been part of one.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, surprised by the confession. “Not even before—?”

He shook his head, cutting you off gently. “Never had anything like this. The noise, the mess, the way they’re all in each other’s business.” He chuckled softly. “It’s good. Feels like life.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers lacing with his. “They’ve accepted you, you know. You might not think it, but they have.”

He looked down at you, his brow furrowed. “How can you tell?”

You smiled. “Because they’re treating you exactly the same way they treat me—asking too many questions, teasing you, shoving food at you like it’s the answer to everything. That’s how they show love.”

Logan was quiet for a moment, his eyes glued to your intertwined fingers. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you’d ever heard it. “It’s nice. It’s… good to feel that. To feel like I’ve got a place.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, your heart swelling at the vulnerability he rarely let show. “You do. With them, and with me.”

The sun was barely rising when you woke the next morning, the soft glow of dawn spilling into the room. Logan was still asleep beside you, his breathing slow and even, one arm draped possessively over your waist. For a moment, you just watched him, marveling at the way the years seemed to fall away when he was at peace.

The sound of children’s laughter broke the stillness, followed by the creak of floorboards and the distant rustle of wrapping paper. Logan stirred, his eyes blinking open as he looked at you.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you whispered, leaning down to brush a kiss against his lips.

He smiled against your mouth, his hand moving to the small of your back to pull you closer. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

The two of you made your way downstairs, where the living room had transformed into a chaotic wonderland of presents and decorations. The children were tearing into their gifts with wild abandon, while the adults watched with coffee cups in hand and fond smiles on their faces.

“¡Mija! ¡Logan! Ven acá!” Your father waved you over, a brightly wrapped package in his hands.

You sat on the floor beside Logan as your father handed you the gift. “This is for you two,” he said, his voice warm.

Inside was a framed photo of the family taken the night before, everyone crowded together under the Christmas lights. In the corner, Logan stood beside you, his expression reserved but his hand resting on your shoulder.

“We wanted you to have something to remember this Christmas by,” your father said. “So you’ll always know that you have a place here. Both of you.”

You glanced at Logan, your throat tight with emotion. He met your gaze, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders, gently pulling you against him as he gave you the smallest of nods.

By the time the car was packed and the goodbyes were said, the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows across the snow. Your family stood on the porch, waving as Logan started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

The road stretched out ahead of you, the silence in the car a comfortable contrast to the noise of the past two days. You leaned back in your seat, watching the snow-covered trees blur past.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you said, glancing over at Logan.

He huffed a quiet laugh, his hands steady on the wheel. “Could’ve been worse. Your tío Pablo was about two shots of tequila away from a fight, though.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “He’s always like that. But he liked you, you know. They all did.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but the faint curve of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

As the miles stretched on, you found yourself reaching for his hand, your fingers lacing together over the console. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re happy,” he said after a while.

You smiled, resting your head against the seat. “I am.”

He glanced at you, his expression soft. “Good. You deserve that.”

And as the car continued down the snow-dusted road, you realized that you finally felt completely at peace.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

[greenglowinspooks]

Gävle Goat v.s. two drunk half-ghosts (DCxDP)

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Tw: alcohol consumption (no way), one(1) mention of sex

Summary: Jason and Danny accidentally burn down the Gävle goat. You all voted for this, and I delivered. Merry crisis, tis the season and all that.

—

Jason wove through the ever-shifting crowd, an irritated scowl on his face.

Kori and Roy had dragged him here to celebrate a successful mission together, but the two had wandered off together not thirty minutes after they arrived, effectively stranding him in an unfamiliar club in Europe.

Now, his only two options seemed to be stealing someone’s car and getting back to their temporary safehouse himself, or waiting for the two to come back for him.

Still, considering the lecture he’d get from Dick if he hotwired a random guy’s car just because he didn’t want to wait for his friends, option one wasn’t much of an option at all.

It was humiliating. He was a crime lord, not a little kid who’d lost their mom in the store.

Jason sighed, slumping against the wall as he watched the drunken crowd swirl together.

He had never really felt at home in places like this, especially not since his resurrection. It always felt like people were staring at him, like they just intrinsically knew that he was other.

Jason startled when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.

“Sorry!” The stranger said, “I just, um, are you okay?”

Jason blinked. The person talking to him was clearly somewhat tipsy, wearing a blush on his face and a slightly loopy smile. How had he possibly snuck up on him? Was he really that deep in thought?

“My asshole friends ditched me, and now I’m stuck here,” Jason blurted out without thinking. The stranger barked out a laugh, clearly surprised.

“That sucks,” he said, leaning on the wall next to Jason. He hummed in response.

The stranger looked back at the open bar, where quite a few people were frantically miming to him. He motioned back to them, clearly hoping for them to stop, before just flipping them off. Jason chuckled at that.

“Those your friends?”

The stranger blushed brighter, the tips of his ears going red.

“Uh, yeah. We’re here to celebrate some legal stuff that I finally got done with, but, uh, they wanted me to go talk to you.”

Jason hummed again, giving the stranger a quick once-over. He was actually pretty cute; he had messy black hair, icy eyes, and an outfit that screamed “I’ve never been in a club before but my friends dragged me here anyways”.

If he was gonna be waiting for Kori and Roy anyways, why not have some fun?

“Well, I am technically here alone, now that my friends wandered off,” he said, looking at the stranger meaningfully.

The stranger grinned brightly, holding a hand out to him.

“Then, d’you wanna hang out with my friends and I? I promise we’re lot of fun! I’m Danny, by the way.”

Jason took his hand, the beginnings of a smile on his face.

“Call me Jason,” he said, following along as the (surprisingly strong) man dragged him over to his friends.

-

Danny was having the time of his life.

The restraining order on Vlad had finally been granted. The abolition of the Infinite Realms’ monarchy had gone through. And, on top of all that, he was on the most incredible club-hopping adventure of his un-life.

And sure, it might not have been the best idea to give ghost alcohol to Jason, the mortal his group had picked up in Germany, but he was taking it like a champ!

He hadn’t thrown up yet, in any case, so clearly it wasn’t that much of an issue.

Danny giggled, leaning up against Jason as they walked along the street, his ghostly friends filling the street.

As the night went along and they all got more and more tipsy, they’d mostly let go of their mortal forms. Despite being surrounded by a bunch of ghosts with death-blows clearly exposed and mythological creatures, Jason didn’t seem to be too bothered. He had an arm wrapped around Danny’s shoulders and was singing along with some of the ghosts in Arabic(?), his lovely baritone voice echoing out amongst the dead and unborn.

Danny just snuggled further into his side, enjoying the novel feeling of human warmth. He’d have to get Jason’s number after this, Danny sluggishly thinks. If he wasn’t freaked out by Danny being dead once he was sober, at least. He found that most people weren’t quite so open to cuddling up to a corpse. Even if that corpse could talk and walk around.

The streetlights around them began to spin as they once again walked into a rip in the veil. Everyone cheered as the lights warped and distorted, the sky becoming neon green and foggy.

Danny stumbled forward on unsteady legs, dragging Jason along with him. He wanted to get to the front of the group, to see where they were going before everyone else!

Jason tripped as Danny continued to drag him along, stumbling off the path and straight off the Realms island they were currently on. Danny, still clinging to him like a lifeline, fell alongside him.

A cheer from the spirits rang out above them, unaware of their mistake, fading as they fell. Before Danny had a chance to call out, though, they fell through another rip in the veil.

-

Jason sat up. He’d fallen face-first into a snowbank, and judging by the pair of legs sticking out of the snow, Danny had a similar fate. He dragged Danny out of the snow by the feet, tumbling over nothing and falling over in a heap.

Danny rolled over, laying down in the snow next to him with both arms around his waist.

Jason just looked up at the sky in awe.

It was most certainly the alcohol, or maybe the lack of pollution, but the sky looked so much more beautiful than usual.

There were so many stars in his blurry vision, and each one twinkled and shone and spun like they were dancing.

With a tremendous amount of effort, he got to his feet, dragging Danny up with him.

He twirled the man in his arms, his legs unsteady as he tried to waltz. Danny giggled, trying to match his uneven steps.

The arctic wind blew over them, carrying with it the snow and ice of the ages. The wind curled around them, spinning in circles around the pair as they danced. Sprites of fire glimmered in the corners of Jason’s vision, glimmering cheerfully. It seemed that something had caught alight, but nothing was going to distract him from the man in front of him, grinning widely with a blush that covered his entire face.

Jason fell over again, collapsing in the snow, and Danny fell over on top of him.

-

Light shimmered down from the snow-covered trees, falling onto Danny’s face. He scrunched his eyes closed, groaning in agony.

He was so, so hungover.

Served him right for agreeing to go out partying with Johnny of all people.

Danny’s head pounded to the beat of his heart, his core humming in rhythm. He buried his face into the fabric beneath him, trying desperately to block out the light from reaching his sensitive eyes.

Where was he, anyways?

The area around him was definitely snowy; even arctic, maybe, judging by how strongly his core was thrumming. Still, he was perfectly warm, laying on top of…

…a person?

Fuck, he was never partying with Johnny again.

Through great willpower, Danny squirmed off of the stranger and sat up, scrunching up his face as he turned away from the sun. It didn’t make his headache any better, though; the snow reflected the light almost as bright as the sun itself.

Fresh snow can have an albedo of 0.9, Danny remembered, a college lecture popping into his head. It had the highest level of albedo of anything on earth. That’s why it was bouncing the light of the sun directly into his poor sensitive eyes.

Of course Danny would wake up next to a strange man and the first thing that he thought of was science facts.

The man next to him groaned, immediately bringing his arm up to block the sun.

“What the fuck did I do last night?”

“I know, right?”

The man went abruptly still. It took all of Danny’s willpower not to laugh.

“…Do I still have my kidneys at least?”

Now Danny did burst out laughing, bright and cheery. And then he groaned and clutched his head.

“Oh gods my head hurts,” Danny hissed, “does this happen every time you drink?”

“Not unless you hate your liver.”

Danny laughed, and they both fell into silence for a few moments. It wasn’t comfortable silence by any means, though; it was unbearably tense and uncomfortable. Danny almost wished he could die on command, if only to get out of this.

“…Wanna go get breakfast?”

“Fuck yes,” Danny said, getting to his feet before helping the other man up. “Your treat?”

The other man laughed loudly.

“We’ve known each other properly for a total of five minutes, and you’re already bleeding me dry?”

“Come on, I’m a college student, it’s basically my job to ask for free food.”

-

The two of them sat in utter silence as they ate, watching the TV in the corner of the diner with a fascinating flavor of giddy horror.

Someone had burnt down the Gävle goat, and from the footage, it was very clearly them.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, luckily; the video had gone so staticky that it was very nearly unwatchable. But when combining the scene on the shitty box TV to Danny’s (very limited) memories of the night before, it was clear that they had done it.

“…Knew I forgot something that happened last night.”

Danny barked out a laugh at Jason’s comment, which earned him a sly grin in return.

“Better or worse than getting laid?”

“Eh,” Jason shrugged. “With most people? Better. With you? Worse.”

Danny laughed harder, wrapping a leg around Jason’s and waggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, arson isn’t the worst end to a first night out.”

Jason snorted.

“By the way, are you a meta? I just assumed, with the fire and all…”

Danny looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, I thought that was you.”

“What?”

Danny summoned a small burst of wind, twirling it around in his hands, creating tiny snowflakes.

“I can do that,” he said, gesturing to the snow, “but, like, fire? Nope.”

To Danny’s utter shock, a core in front of him pulsed in confusion, his own mirroring it.

Jason’s core. Jason was dead.

Jason looked at him, his face pale.

“Did you feel that too, or am I having a heart attack?”

Danny laughed nervously.

“As long as we don’t get arrested, I promise I’ll explain everything on the way back to Germany.”

—

Notes:

If Jason really was alive, he wouldn’t be for long after drinking ghost alcohol.

I brought up albedo because I learned something new in science class. Godbles

The wisps were Jason’s core forming and activating for the first time. That’s also what got the goat

[czolgosz]

tumblr in the 1900s simulator

🎀 basilgillgirlie

HELPPP i went to see a country girl and i SWEAR coffin looked directly at me while he was singing no. 19 😳😳😳

#im going to DIE #oh my godddd #hayden coffin tag #theatre tag

( 5 notes )

🪮 tortoiseshelllll

honestly just go ahead and block me if you're still not against the consumption of intoxicating liquors /srs

#temperance discourse

( 7 notes )

🤵‍♂️ h0ney-b0y 🔁 in-my-merry-oldsmobile Follow

💁‍♀️ soshineonharvestmoon Follow

Alright, let's settle this once and for all:

Do cylinders or discs produce the clearest sound?

‎ ‎‎ Cylinders⬜‍‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‍21.2%

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Discs🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦🟦‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎‎78.8%

‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎‎ ‎Final result from 18,796 votes

🐶 yourwildirishrose Follow

literally who is voting for cylinders. #discsweep

#poll results that would give thomas edison neurasthenia

( 3,419 notes )

👨 lawrenceseldens 🔁 the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

☕ the-thing-with-feathers86 Follow

hey. everyone. TAG YOUR HOUSE OF MIRTH SPOILERS!!!!! not all of us are able to keep up with the installments, especially ppl employed at factories/others who work 10+ hour shifts

#!!! #the house of mirth #edith wharton #scribner's magazine

( 102 notes )

🌌 impastolover 🔁 le-modernisme Follow

🔘 ilythomascole-deactivated19061203

There’s NO WAY you people are still supporting H*nri M*tisse after he posted THIS

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

does this scare you

🌈 chezlesfauves Follow

i guess so lmaooo

#i wonder if op knows about la femme au chapeau…

( 10,675 notes )

🌻 emancipation-waist-official 🔁 localhoyden Follow

🐈‍⬛ localhoyden Follow

friendly reminder that it’s perfectly ok for women and girls to wear corsets if they want to!! don't ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for it - it's your choice, you can do whatever makes you happy 💗

🌻 emancipation-waist-official

Go outside.

( 984 notes )

👰 kittybristolsgf

i know it's been less than a decade since uh. you know. but can anarchists please go back to assassinating public figures and bombing government buildings and such all the time already, i have had ENOUGH

#the latest tariff law that was passed.... wtf #(for legal reasons this is a joke) #(please don't have me electrocuted <3)

( 2 notes )

🦚 fancyfeathers

Just got my widest hat yet!! An entire owl can fit atop it!

( 51 notes )

🏓 whiffwhaffwagerer

at the marathon in st. louis!👍 what is happening

#so the original winner cheated i guess #and the actual winner had to be carried over the finish line and is currently being treated by *several* doctors #also apparently some of the competitors are missing #...i'll keep you all posted?

( 9 notes )

🧳 thatkeenmotorist 🔁 thatkeenmotorist

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken chain ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken belt ☹️

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

driving my motor-car 😁

🧳 thatkeenmotorist

broken chain again ☹️

( 99 notes )

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow 🔁 thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

hey um whats going on in the balkans right now 😨 do you think theres going to be a war in europe soon im nervous

🙎‍♂️ thegreat-trainrobbery1903 Follow

well, a major war caused by a crisis in the balkans has been speculated on for a while. but it'll probably only last about a year like the war of 1870, plus you don't even live near the balkans, i wouldn't worry too much

💃 lilyelsieinthemerrywidow

yeah youre probably right

#and if it did reach us it would most likely be beneficial anyway #<-prev

( 13 notes )

[allieebobo]

Monsoon Games: Roadmap

I'll continue to tweak this rough roadmap according to the responses I get from the google form, but here's the plan (ideal-case) for the next 1-2 years!

If you haven't filled out the form yet, please do, as answers would be super valuable in helping me better gauge, prioritize, and budget my next steps as well as tweak the pricing for the tiers!

Phase 1: Now till end-2025

Full-time urban planner

Part-time game dev.

Likely to be mostly solo-work and choice-script based

Phase 2: Beginning 2026 till end 2026

Part/Full-time game dev

Likely to involve / bring in an artist/coder, depending on eventual decision on game format (ren'py, Godot or choicescript)

Phase 3: Beginning 2027

Launch phase 2 game

Re-evaluate what to do next, likely back to my full-time job, but to KIV this based on what happens in Phase 2

Details below the cut!

Again, if you have comments, suggestions, preferences, do leave a message or email (allieebobo@gmail.com). If you're interested to collaborate, or to find out about what games I'm thinking of, click here.

Phase 1a

Timeframe: now till end 2025

Scope: Keep rolling out choicescript updates for CT:OS and Merry Crisis. This will form the base of content for ko-fi/patreon (with subscribers continuing to get early-releases until these games are complete).

Phase 1b 

Timeframe: start sometime 2nd half of 2025, run concurrently till end 2025)

Scope: Write a choicescript 'concept demo' for 2 new games I've been haunted by over the past couple of years. (I'll release more info on this if I think they're viable). Whether or not they become more complex games, I'll at least have the choicescript demo. 

Phase 1c 

Timeframe: optional, but to start as soon as funding is obtained

Scope: Depending on interest, I want to consider doing a port to ren'py for Merry Crisis (or CT:OS, but likely MC) for a more visual-style game. This would involve either hiring a coder to help with the port, or doing it myself. More importantly, will need to commission art for this.

_____

Monthly-subscriptions for both Phase 1a and 1b would include the following tiers: 

$3/month (existing): Just to support me :) 

$6/month (existing): Early-access links to CT:OS and Merry Crisis

$9/month (new tier): Same as above + Early-content (e.g. lore, character snippets & art, non-interactive stories, dev logs) for new game(s)

$12/month (might not go for this tier, but including just as a concept): Same as above + Expanded early-content (e.g. interactive choice-script based demo access)

Phase 2a

Timeframe: Beginning 2026, probably 6-9 months or more depending on scope

Scope: With CT:OS and Merry Crisis completed, I hope to then turn my sights to converting the choicescript demo created in phase 1b into actual complete games. This could either take the form of: 

A full choicescript game

A full ren'py (visual) game

A full Godot (2D) game

About 2-3 months into Phase 2a, I will also have enough content to launch a kickstarter, which would hopefully bring new backers on board and funds to speed-up production of the game(s). For folks who prefer supporting once-off instead, they'll also come in at this stage :) 

Phase 2b: 

Timeframe: Probably 6-9 months into 2026

Scope: Once there's a playable beta version of the game, I'll then do testing with subscribers and other beta-testers, and do de-bugging.

_____

Monthly-subscriptions for both Phase 2a and 2b would include the following tiers: 

$4/month: Just to support me :) 

$8/month: Subscriber-only content for all new games in development (e.g. character snippets & art, dev logs)

$12/month: Same as above + Little interactive patches/expansion packs for CT:OS and Merry Crisis 

$16/month: Same as above + Expanded early-content for all new games (e.g. non-interactive stories, scene peaks/teasers, interactive twine or choicescript based playable content, access to beta version of the game when ready in phase 2b)

Kickstarter tiers: 

$12 once-off for a specific project (a selection of content from the pool of characer snippets & art, dev-logs that $8/month subscribers get) 

$25 once-off for a specific project (same as above + a selection of content from the pool of expanded early-content) 

$35 once-off for a specific project (same as above + special perks e.g. ability to design a character or item or request chapter) 

Phase 3

Timeframe: Start of 2027 onwards 

Scope: When at least 1 game is launched, hopefully by start of 2027, I'll re-evaluate and see what to set my sights on next! This probably also means going back to full-time urban planning :)

[wingedshadowfan]

⚠️arcane s2 act iii spoilers // criticism ⚠️

in caitlyn's post-war speech, she talks ambiguously of history and of ups and downs and of a story not yet over, but there's no promise for the future, no motivation to keep going, no bigger picture, no lesson learned. we're not shown much work being done either and i'm about to examine why it felt that way to me, leaving me a bit confused, somewhat unsatisfied, and deeply, profoundly sad

of course, jayce and viktor are dead. heimerdinger is gone, potentially also dead but unlike the latter two, we don't quite know what happened to him, he just kind of disappeared. i was left under the impression the were two ekkos - one for each universe, and our ekko's consciousness just changed bodies briefly due to the hexcore before heimerdinger managed to send him back to his own body in the right universe. but it seemed there was only one heimerdinger (body and soul) who'd traveled to the alternative universe as a package and lived there for a thousand years until our ekko came around in the alternative one's body, and instead of traveling back with him, heimerdinger's body and subsequently his consciousness ceased to exist. so... who's inventing things now? who's rebuilding piltover?

jinx and warwick (because there's no vander left there anymore, we made sure of that) are also presumably dead. we see how this is affecting ekko and vi, but not necessarily the undercity, for which jinx was a symbol of freedom, of unity - the perfect person who could've broken a cycle of violence, poverty and oppression. zaun doesn't get its sovereignty and seemingly loses its beacom of hope.

we see sevika as part of the council in piltover instead, but it's not like she's making merry with the other new counselors, in fact they throw her some nasty looks. and of course, i didn't expect it to be easy and it's admirable she's even there at all but unless i missed anyone, she's the only zaunite there out of 9 counselors (w/ zaun being 1/4 of piltover's population in canon afaik). i guess there's work to be done there but there was no indication of it even being able to go in a good direction, since she seems to have no backing from anyone now and again, we don't even know the extent to which the undercity managed to unify under her.

mel, a character always depicted in white and gold, an image of purity and mercy, defiant of her mother's brutality since childhood, now dons her red eyeshadow and sits on her throne on a ship for noxus. in an attempt to save her city, the city she was exhiled in to "learn" this brutality, to be hidden from the black rose from, and that's she's instead given her everything to care for (after barely getting the time to grapple with her own identity crisis and the predetermination of her fate) she's left no choice but to surrender her mother to the black rose, and watch her die in her arms. perhaps it is by virtue of noxian law she assumes her place and has to return to noxus. she leaves her beloved city in such a perilous and war-torn state, riddled with guilt and confusion. is she a wolf now? has she always been one?

ekko presumably grieves jinx by burning a piece of paper for her (my first thought was it was for heimerdinger, his "mentor" whose contributions and potential sacrifice made ekko coming back home possible, and with the time reversal device at that - but i interpreted it as being for jinx because it was in the place he kissed her alternate self in the alternative universe). what of ekko's future, of his commune? what happened to the tree getting corrupted? heimerdinger had plans to fix it with jayce's help or at least find the sickness' origin (the hexcore, yes, but we don't know if what happened to the tree got reversed), instead they found out the undercity was completely reliant on piltover's mercy for their water and air, and this knowledge seems to have died with them (bcuz i doubt ekko has the power to do anything about it).

caitlyn's looking at the kiramman house files, including city plans, potentially to rebuild things after the war but how? first of all, what are they gonna do with the hextech, the weapons, the gates, the magic in general? would they even want to try that again, and what implications would this have for piltover and zaun individually but for their precarious newly founded relationship? and secondly, she's a policewoman/detective turned anti-civil-war-commander turned just war commander, she's not an engineer or a scientist. all those ones? gone. all the people we know of who could rebuild the city in its previous progressive state are gone - jayce, viktor, heimerdinger, even jinx as a technological wildcar in vi's words. caitlyn seems to be telling the story or archiving files and plans for any future kirammans but she doesn't seem to have any work of her own to do anymore.

vi is the saddest case here, which says a lot. she's lost everything and is completely devoid of purpose. it's okay not to be okay, but what she says to caitlyn completely destroys me (and i'll do a separate, more detailed post but this shall do for now). she's depressed. easily. she's grieving jinx, humming a song her mother used to sing to them, the same one jinx was humming when we first saw her this season. when she says, "I'll always be dirt under your fingernails, cupcake." she isn't being cute, flirty, or romantic. she's being self-deprecating, indicating she deems her presence a nuisance to caitlyn, she deems herself unworthy and unwelcome in her house, but it's not like she's going anywhere. where else could she even go? caitlyn is all she has left. that's what she means when she says, "nothing's ever gonna clean me out", but perhaps even more so, she implies she's beyond repair, that she'll never be whole, never be truly okay again after this.

(the only person who got a "happy" ending, and the reason why this pisses me off is because he was truly vile and wicked and idc abt his motivations i will not be convinced otherwise, was fucking singed, who somehow got to have his immortalized robot daughter despite everything)

[twiishaa]

twisha’s merry christmas event! late night hot chocolate with suna rintarou *ੈ🎄✩‧₊

suna x fem!reader, post-timeskip, hurt/comfort! one day, when suna's walking home from his late-night practice, he sees your apartment light still on. when he gets there, he finds you a little overwhelmed from the hectic season. hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand, or so suna says.

in typical december fashion, the days were getting colder, shorter and christmas was around the corner—so naturally, things were getting busier as well. suna’s final practice of the year ended a little ove 15 minutes ago; he was now walking home in the cold, wintery air. checking his phone, suna made a mental note of the time. god, he hadn’t seen you in ages.  your schedules hadn’t been lining up for the past few weeks, and so you’d only seen each other for the occasional, hastily planned lunch date that definitely didn’t pay justice to your relationship.

The route he took very conveniently passed your apartment. the middle blocker looked up at your apartment building. suddenly, your room’s window caught his attention; he peered up at it—why were the lights still on? it was well past midnight, usually you were asleep by then.

then it hit him. suna knew you very well. he knew that when you get slumped in work, you stay up to try and finish it. he knew that your job overwhelmed you sometimes, especially when it was nearing the end of the year.

he was the only one in the street, but the swift turn he took made him feel a little self-conscious. unconsciously, suna picked up his walking pace a little, fuelled by the thought of seeing you again, and also by his concern for you—he couldn’t stand seeing his girlfriend upset! and, if he had guessed wrong, well—at least he’d get to see your face after a gruelling practice.

—

the papers strewn all over your desk were testament to the amount of work you had left to do. the clock had already struck midnight, your eyes had grown tired hours ago. christmas was always busy for you, but for some reason this year felt the worst yet. on top of that, you were running low on sleep because of some party the people living on the floor below you decided to host. honestly, all you wanted to do was sleep. and see your boyfriend—you hadn’t seen him properly in months.

with a deep exhale, the substantial amount of work and pressure overwhelmed you—you felt a sting in your eyes, and a wetness down your cheek. for some reason, the clock’s monotonous ticking seemed to quicken, silently mocking your sorry state.

—

as if the gods had heard your cries, you heard a gentle knock on the door. it was suna. you were confused, but a wave of reassurance washed over you from just seeing him again. there were tears beginning to form in your eyes, but you held them back as best you could.

“hey rin, how come you’re here? did practice finish late?” you said, seeing as he was carrying his gym bag.

suna laughed a little. “yeah, it finished later today. just thought I’d say hi to my amazing, beautiful, girlfriend—is there anything wrong with that?”

now it was your turn to giggle. somehow, suna could always sense your mood, and make you laugh; it was one of the many things you loved about him.

once you two sat down, suna brought up what he originally came for.

“hey, you good? you’re usually not up this late unless you’re like, having an existential crisis or something,” he sounded light-hearted, but you could tell from his eyes that he was worried, that he really cared for you.

something clicked in you—his words resonated and the tears from earlier started to fall down your cheeks. suna placed a comforting hand on your back, gently moving it up and down.

his voice was breathy, almost like a whisper. “hey, hey, it’s alright; everything’s going to be alright,” you just curled up into his side.

“I don’t know, there’s just so much work, and not enough time,” your voice came out muffled by his jumper. “and I just feel like, seasonal depression, you know?” suna chuckled at your choice of words.

“I get it,” he said, ruffling your hair a little.

—

outside, the snow started falling. this year, there was supposed to be snow pretty much every day leading up to christmas—which gave suna an idea.

“hey, should we make some hot chocolate?”

you sat up, a little confused. “hot chocolate? now?”

suna nodded eagerly. “yeah, now—don’t you know hot chocolate and late-night deep talks go hand in hand?”

“uhhhh, no? nobody says that?”

“well, my hot chocolate skills are unmatched, and I need to flex. we’re making hot chocolate.” he started making his way to the kitchen. being left no choice, you followed him.

—

the hot chocolate did well to calm your nerves, and suna was right, his hot chocolate skills were ‘unmatched’.

you two snuggled up on the sofa, when suna took your hand and squeezed it a little

“if you.. you know, want to say anything more, you can,” he said, looking away. you could still tell from his averted gaze that his cheeks were pink. stretching over, you gave him a peck on the cheek.

“just you being here is enough, rin,” you beamed at him, causing suna to smile back, albeit blushing. “now, let’s watch home alone.” you turned to grab the remote.

“let’s.” suna replied. “but the second one, I’ve watched the first one too many times with the twins,”

you laughed.

suna always had some way of brightening your mood, and you were grateful for it. the ticking of the clock from earlier had grown so quiet, it was basically silence to you. all the christmas lights from outside flooded the room as a dim, ambient light. you turned to look at suna, focused on the movie.

what would you do without him? you wondered.

taglist @cherrysurf @catientie @d0milol

⋆⁺₊❅ and lastly, here's a link to the taglists! merry christmas~‧₊˚🎄✩ ₊˚🦌��♡

[darkkitty1208]

a serirei prompt for you :D serizawa gets hurt from a spirit and reigen has to save them both

Thank you for the prompt! 💖 I cheated a little and had a certain someone else come in clutch but I think this still fits the prompt. :)

crisis averted

Summary:

It had at first seemed like your run-of-the-mill, standard evil spirit case. Go to the alleged haunted location, find the spirit, exorcise it, and then be off on their merry ways with thicker wallets and a sense of self-satisfaction. In and out, quick and easy.  That, as it turns out, is not the case this time. OR A case gone awry.

Word count: 3,221

Tags/Warnings: Canon-typical Violence, Concussion, Canon-typical Anime-level Medical (In)Accuracy, Big Scary Evil Spirit, Possession, No Beta We Die Like My Sleep Schedule, a hint of Pining Reigen Arataka

AO3

Reigen has made a big mistake. Well, he’s made a lot of big mistakes in his lifetime, but he supposes this one isn’t any less worth noting. 

Actually, scratch that. He’s made several big mistakes. This one unequivocally included. 

The first mistake he’s made goes all the way back to the time he decided on quitting his old watercooler job and starting his own spirit consultation business. Sure, it’s his best worst mistake yet, with all the good things it has brought to his life—and he’s sure the company would’ve gotten him laid off down the line anyway—but if he hadn’t made the stupidly bold move of turning in his resignation letter way back when then he wouldn’t have been here on a chase-down with a godawful evil spirit trying to play an unbearable game of something between tag and hide and seek with them.

The second mistake he’s made is choosing to wake up that morning. If only he had stayed in bed, closed up shop for the day, or simply decided to no longer exist, then he wouldn’t have replied with an immediate affirmative to the client email he finds on his laptop sitting on the office desk that morning. 

The third mistake, which is probably the biggest mistake yet, is actually accepting the case and heading straight into his ultimate demise. 

Which, Reigen finds, is currently his complete lack of athletic stamina and endurance. He should really work out more.  

It had at first seemed like your run-of-the-mill, standard evil spirit case. Go to the alleged haunted location, find the spirit, exorcise it, and then be off on their merry ways with thicker wallets and a sense of self-satisfaction. In and out, quick and easy. 

That, as it turns out, is not the case this time. This time, apparently, is a case involving a particularly troublesome and audaciously impenitent spirit. And admittedly a very quick one. 

Reigen has since lost track of how long he and Serizawa have been running around the abandoned building, up and down the staircases to catch it. It flits quickly between one room to another, and every time they get close enough it’s always faster to escape. Reigen isn’t even sure anymore what it looks like; one second it’s a long shadow across the wall, the next second it’s dark smoke curling in a corner, and the next it’s a jet black, worm-like, gooey substance of some sort twisting about. It doesn’t seem to have any sense of shape or volume, morphing its form into its own whims—which makes it all the more frustrating for them both, it seems. 

He lets out a grumble of frustration between laboured breaths as the spirit flies up the stairs yet again, feet skidding to a halt. He turns to Serizawa, who almost looks absolutely defeated but nowhere near as horribly so as he is. At least in terms of sweat patches and dignity. He’s stopped running when he saw Reigen did, too. 

“This is not working,” Reigen says, breathless. They’ve tried splitting up, predicting its next moves and attempting to back it up into a corner, but the spirit never stays in the same spot for more than three seconds and somehow always finds a way to flee from them. It’s a slippery, annoying little thing. Reigen has not run this much since Mob’s marathon, and even then he hardly made it halfway through before nearly passing out. There was also that time he chased Mob during his psychic outburst, but… he doesn’t count that one; it was by pure luck he managed to survive that. 

Serizawa’s giving him that helpless, “what do we do now?” look he often dons when he’s confused about social cues or situations he does not know how to handle without guidance or assistance. Reigen resists the urge to don his own “I don’t even know what I’m doing” look. Instead he puts on his confident “it may not look like it but I absolutely know exactly what I’m doing” look which, to be frank, contrasts to the way that he does not, in fact, know exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s got everything handled. He does. He just needs to figure out how to. 

He pants, swallows the excess saliva in his mouth, and places his hands on his hips in what he hopes looks like the pose of a man who knows what he’s doing. He hopes to god the pit stains are not as visible as they feel. Curse him for choosing to wear a grey suit while being the sweatiest man alive. 

He thinks for a moment and considers their options. There’s not much to consider. 

One: they give up and inform the client of their failure. Not a chance. Partly because he can’t let an evil spirit roam about and potentially endanger any passerbys, but also because he wants to keep the Spirits and Such reputation intact. 

…Also partly due to the fact that they haven’t gotten many cases lately, and Reigen’s tired of eating cup noodles and cheap convenience store onigiris for the past week or so, and the client promises to pay them handsomely if they manage to get this stupid little bastard of a spirit terminated for good. 

Two: they call Mob. But Reigen will only resort to calling Mob when absolutely necessary—he’s promised himself that. The kind of cases that require bringing out the big guns—that being his trusty middle schooler/friend/student with powers that can blow your mind literally and figuratively—or especially dire ones where he’s left with no other choice, like that time with Rusty-sama and the mimic. This is not an absolutely necessary kind of situation, so he refrains himself. 

And three…

“Can’t you—” he wipes sweat off his brow. It doesn’t do much when his hands also happen to be sweaty. “Can’t you just, I don’t know— call the spirit here? To us?” 

…come up with a plan on the fly, because if Reigen Arataka is anything, it’s that he’s good at improv-ing his way through any situation. Even if said plan is a mere hypothetical. 

Serizawa drops his look of helplessness, his features morphing into that of understanding. Like he’s just realised something, or came up with a viable solution. It gives Reigen some relief. See? They know what they’re doing. Everything’s handled. Being handled, but still. His point stands.

“I can probably use my aura to do that,” he says, equally breathless, “I can extend it throughout the building and beckon it to us. It might take a while but, it might— it might actually work, I think.”

“Yeah?” Reigen says, nodding decidedly. He takes a couple steps back to give Serizawa space to do his thing. “Alright, then. Go on, Serizawa. Do your—” he makes sluggish, vague gestures with his hand, mostly out of habit. “your thing.” 

Serizawa nods back, curt and confident in a way that shouldn’t make his stomach flip because that isn’t what stomachs do. Stomachs cannot flip. They do not. Reigen knows this. 

Serizawa seems to take a moment to compose himself, steadying his breaths. And then he raises a hand upwards, eyes closed in deep concentration as a small crease forms between his brows. Reigen gulps in air as he watches, shoving his hands in his pockets as he doesn’t know what to do with them. 

He feels charged, static energy filling the air, making the thin hairs on his skin raise on end, the familiar, warm buzz of Serizawa’s aura filling the room completely, overflowing out into the rest of the building. He watches, entranced, as the curls stuck to Serizawa’s forehead begin to float upwards, a subtle iridescent glow about him. 

It seems to go on for a while—Reigen doesn’t exactly mind. Not in the slightest. Serizawa always looks so confident when he’s using his powers like this; his large, steady hands channeling powerful energy, his broad shoulders in a sure line and his face a picture of determination, ready to protect and attack for whatever threat lays ahead… 

Reigen swallows. This is not the time to be thinking about how big and strong his coworker is. God, did it just get hotter in here? Is he sweating a little more? Surely it’s from the run. It still counts as plausible deniability if it’s partly true. Right? Right.

And then he catches something swift and black slinking past the corner of his vision, slipping through doorways and windows and gaps between the walls, seemingly changing and moving with every blink of his eyes. 

He turns to Serizawa, whose frown has deepened into a near scowl as he suddenly drops his hand, the familiar energy of his aura dispersing quickly as his eyes blink open. A warning is at the tip of his tongue. 

“Reigen-san, I think—” 

Reigen flits his eyes to behind his shoulder, stumbles back a step. “Uhh, Serizawa. Hold that thought because—” 

“No, this is serious. I don’t know why I only feel this now, may-maybe it was doing it in small increments before? But—” 

“Serizawa, it—” 

“Reigen-san. I think the spirit’s absorbing my energy.” 

“Well it happens to be behind you!” 

Serizawa turns around just as a large hand emerges from the dark, spiralling mass, its form swooping unsteadily in the air as its weight accustoms to gravity, steadying before knocking Serizawa off his feet and sending him flying to the side to slam against the wall before he gets the chance to dodge it. He hears a crack, and hopes it’s just the bricks. 

"Serizawa!" Reigen calls, uselessly, "Shit!" 

He turns to the spirit, and finds himself staring at… nothing. It’s a void, completely black and featureless. Its edges blur out like it isn’t meant to be here. Like it doesn’t quite fit in this world. Once or twice Reigen catches what must be an eye, or a limb, or a head, but it never seems to be definite. 

His eyes scan his surroundings to find a way to slip out and potentially call for help. He looks around frantically. 

There. The doorway, rid of its door and hinges. He just needs to slip past the writhing mass of nothingness and dash down the stairs. 

Half-baked plan in mind, Reigen doesn’t spare a second before he goes for it. He runs to the side, avoiding a whipping band that swipes over his head, but the spirit—or whatever it is—only seems to grow bigger and bigger, taking up more and more space until it blocks off his exit completely. He drives himself to a halt, wracking his mind for a next step, because Reigen always has a next step. Surely a bright, brilliant idea will appear in his mind right about now. Surely he’ll make it out safe and save the day. Surely there is a next step. 

As he’s slowly backed into a corner, breathless and sweating and just about ready to pass out, Reigen realises that perhaps he does not know what he’s doing after all. 

And that, thus far, is his biggest mistake yet. 

The spirit seems to raise itself into an upwards spiral, and then broadening to stretch itself out in a shape he could only describe as a clawed prehensile, spread wide and ready to catch its prey, and—

A flash of bright green suddenly bathes his vision. 

“Your cavalry has arrived!” Dimple announces aloud with his voice. 

You’re late! Reigen points out in his head, but can’t deny that he’s glad to relinquish his body for Dimple’s use. Dimple seems to wince at his non-existent volume. 

“Jeez, not even a thank you?” 

I had it handled. 

“Sure.” He swerves Reigen’s body to the side to avoid the hit, and he has to admit—he isn’t sure himself if he would be able to make that acrobatic twist-jump. He would be grateful if it weren’t for the fact that Dimple is, well… Dimple. “Let’s see—Seri-chan is knocked out over there, you were about to get your ass kicked—ha! This definitely looks like you had everything under control!” 

Reigen makes a mental grumble, but doesn’t resist Dimple poking around inside him for control. He watches himself dodge another hit, legs flying underneath him, head ducking down and to the side. 

“So what’s the plan?” 

Reigen has to grasp at his last mental devices to formulate one, and spits out the first thing that comes to mind. Can you eat this thing? 

“Are you crazy?!” He sounds incredulous. It sounds unusual coming from Reigen’s vocal cords. “This thing knocked Seri out—” He dodges another hit, “and you expect me to eat it? It might eat me for all I know! It’s already trying to!”

Dimple has a point. He looks at the spirit, and Reigen may not be a psychic, but even he can tell this one’s a powerful one. He can practically feel the threatening, malevolent energy emanating from it. 

“Why didn’t you just call Mob?!” 

No! 

He feels his own brows cinch together of their own accord—well, he supposes, of Dimple’s. 

“Why the hell not?” 

He’s in cram school right now! I can’t just—

“This thing’s about to kill us!” 

Well— 

Something like a yelp escapes his lips as a long, writhing thing swings itself at them, swiping them off their feet. As he feels his back slam against the ground, it registers to him that all his senses are now all his own. He tries to feel his arms, flex his fingers, looks to the side and, sure enough, Dimple’s amorphous form floats a good distance away. 

“It knocked me out!” 

Reigen feels the panic rise up his throat. This spirit hit them with enough force to knock Dimple out of his possessed body. 

Just then, a tendril wraps around his ankles and lifts him up into the air. He lets out a “Whoah!” as it holds him up unsteadily, feeling the blood rush to his head as he looks at the twisting form upside-down. 

“Heeyyy, buddy—” He puts his hands up in front of him in a placating manner, “Why don’t we just—” He yelps as its grip only tightens, the tendril lengthening around his legs and up his thighs and spinning him about until it has itself wrapped all the way up—or in this case, down—his clavicle. 

The skin at the lumpy center of it that he assumes is its head—was it even skin? Was it even flesh?—tears itself in the center, widening into a gaping hole where sharp teeth grow in circular rows and rows that end far down what he assumes is its now open mouth. The tentacle-limb-thing dangles him closer to the entrance, head mere inches from the slimy tongue that reaches up and out, and suddenly there are limbs and tentacles and arms looming over, and the creature’s mouth is wide open and ready to engulf him—

And then a familiar purple glow slices clean through in one, swift motion, and the spirit turns to smoke with one last, aggrieved screech and a blinding explosion of multicolour light. 

Reigen drops to the ground with an “ack!”, wincing as he rubs the back of his head and refrains to do the same to his pelvis. He muffles a sound of pain between clenched teeth, blinking his eyes open as everything seems to tilt and move before focusing and becoming steady again. 

The smoke dissipates, and Serizawa stands in the middle of it. Reigen notices the tell-tale, twin red patches on his cheeks. There’s blood trailing down his forehead. 

“Dimple,” he says, struggling onto his feet. He sways, catches himself, and grunts under his breath. He trudges forward, hand coming up to grab his sore elbow. “Is Serizawa…?”

“He’s in here,” Dimple answers before he even finishes his question, “Conscious. Must’ve woken him up when I possessed him.” 

Reigen nods. “Right. He’s concussed, is he?” 

Dimple scoffs a little with a pointed look. “Yeah. He’s not the only one, apparently.” 

Reigen rolls his eyes, but immediately screws them shut when that only serves to aggravate the sharp pain in his head. 

Curse Dimple. He’s right. 

“I’m fine,” Reigen waves him off. “The spirit’s gone, right? How’d you even do it?”

Dimple makes a face that does not seem like one Serizawa would ever pull. He shrugs. “Dunno. It must’ve been too occupied trying to eat you.” 

“Why was it even…?”

Dimple shrugs Serizawa’s shoulders again, face uncharacteristically callous. “Who am I to judge? I’m pretty disappointed that it didn’t.” 

Reigen huffs. Of course Dimple would say that after being the one to stop the spirit from doing exactly that. 

He draws himself to his full height, patting down the dust off his suit and straightening the creases and his tie, ignoring the multiple aches and cuts and scrapes all over his body. He’ll deal with those later.

“I’ll just go back down to talk to the client and collect our pay. And then we’ll—” He winces again at the idea of more bills. Guess this means more cup noodles this week. “—we’ll go get Serizawa to the hospital.” 

“And you?” 

He resists the eye roll this time. “And me.” 

Dimple scoffs again, and it’s rather unsettling to see Serizawa with his mannerisms like that. He seems to pause for a moment, as if having some mental conversation that Reigen isn’t a part of which does not make him pout, and then nods to himself. 

Dimple slips out, and the red marks leave with him. Serizawa’s face turns into a grimace, lax shoulders immediately hiked up in typical Serizawa manner, and his eyes slam shut as he staggers forward. 

“Whoa, there—” Reigen catches him gently by the shoulders. “You good there, big guy?”

Reigen watches his Adam's apple bob as Serizawa swallows. He lets out a low hum, managing a weak, “Yeah, just— slammed all at once, you know?” 

Reigen hums back sympathetically. He gets that. The disconnection from your body when being possessed alleviates the pain significantly—the pain from his wounds must’ve hit him all at once when Dimple left his body, Reigen figures. He had been the same back during his confrontation with Mob, but Reigen knows how to hide those things well behind sure words, sheer determination and willpower, and maybe the still-coursing adrenaline in his veins. 

“How’s the head?” 

Serizawa makes a pained grunt. “It… could be better.” 

Reigen huffs a small laugh. “Gotcha.” 

“How about yours, Reigen-san? Are you alright? I— I don’t know what happened but—” 

God, Serizawa’s the one injured and he’s still fretting over him. This guy. 

“Oh don’t worry about it, Serizawa,” he waves a flippant hand, “You’re the one injured. And anyway, it…” He recalls the concussion he had after the chase with Mob. He shrugs. “It could be worse.” 

Serizawa looks somewhere between unconvinced and eternally concerned. Reigen just shrugs again. Dimple mutters something about idiots and having to save their asses all the time. Reigen pretends he doesn’t hear. Serizawa sends Dimple an apologetic look. 

All in all, Reigen counts this case as a success. He can regret all those mistakes some other time when he’s ready to confront them and mentally prepared for an existential crisis—for now, though, he’s just glad everything worked out fine. 

[hmdeath]

IT'S DOUBLE FEATURE DAY AGAIN

Merry Crisis and Happy Honda Days, everyone - @bludazey and I have teamed up yet again to spread holiday fear cheer!

Please enjoy our gifts to you, our latest chapters, below.

Unravel - Chapter 23

Hellish Rebuke - Chapter 30

Art by the incredibly talented @a-cabin-in-midgard

(for real you're all the best, hope you're having a great time and, if you're not, that these make your day even a little bit better!)

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 22: The Twelve Days of Storybrooke

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 2310

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

CS Genre: Neverland Canon Divergence

Notes:  This story was written for @pirateherokillian for the CS Secret Santa event last year.  Emma and Killian find themselves dealing with yet another town crisis—this one with a very Christmassy flavor.

Killian woke with a gasp, taking a moment to let his heart rate return to normal.  It had been a while since he’d had the dream, but when he did he woke absolutely bloody terrified.

Six months ago Emma had won the final battle, and the residents of Storybrooke had begun their happily ever afters.  It had been good, so, so far beyond good since then.  He and Emma had taken a two-week honeymoon on the Jolly.  They’d had no real destination in mind; they’d merely chosen to sail somewhere warm and tropical.  Two weeks of uninterrupted time together had been better than even his fertile imagination could have dreamed up.

When they’d returned home, they’d set up house and then begun the process of deciding just what they would do with the remainder of their lives (besides spending copious amounts of time in bed, of course.  They were newly-weds, after all).  When Dave had decided to pursue his life-long dream of owning a farm, the decision had been simple.  Killian would take the position of Emma’s deputy.  Now he and Swan were partners in everything–life and work.

As he said, life was good.

But the fact that life was now as close to idyllic as it could get didn’t erase the years and years of trauma they had all been through over the past few years, and for the first couple of months, Killian had the same nightmare nearly every night.

They were back there on the streets of Storybrooke, Swan facing Gideon and the final battle about to commence.  He’d known what she was going to do a split second before she did it.  She’d turned back toward him, agony and regret in her eyes.  Before he even had time to scream in horror, she’d dropped her sword, letting Gideon run her through.

It was the only way to truly escape the trap the Black Fairy had set for them.  The strategic part of Killian’s brain knew that to be true.  But his heart, a heart that had lost everyone it had ever loved, rejected the idea.  He couldn’t lose her, his true love, the best part of his very self, his beloved wife.  Not now!  Not ever.

He’d watched as Gideon’s sword made contact, and Swan grunted in pain, falling to the ground.  Her lad went to her, told her he loved her, kissed her.

And nothing happened.

Henry tried True Love’s Kiss again.  Still nothing.

Killian tried, kissing her until his lips were bruised.  She remained still and dead.

He’d lost the most important person he’d ever had in his life, and he was sure the agony really would kill him.

Killian took a deep breath, shaking his head to clear the distressing images from his mind, and then turning onto his side, tears of relief coming into his eyes as his gaze took in the peacefully sleeping form of his wife.

She was here.  She was alive.  She was well.  They’d gotten their happy beginning, and he need never fear the final battle again.

They’d been married long enough for Killian to know waking his sleeping Swan was a rather unwise proposition, but still he leaned over and softly caressed her cheek, pushing aside her tangled hair.  He needed to touch her, needed to reassure himself that it was just a dream; that she was here and that she was well.

She was so beautiful, so vibrant.  He leaned down and kissed her, softly, gently.  She stirred at the touch of his lips to hers, smiling in her sleep and whispering his name.  After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck and began kissing him back.

He’d feared she’d be angry at him for waking her, but it seemed she had another form of sweet torture for him instead.  The fire built up inside of him as the kiss continued and Swan’s hands began wandering.  This wasn’t necessarily how he’d planned to begin Christmas Eve morning, but Killian was so very far from complaining.

He’d only just reached for the hem of Emma’s pajama top when her talking phone began blaring “Jingle Bells.”

She groaned, reluctantly pulling her mouth from his.

“Ignore it, Love,” he whispered, kissing down the column of her neck.

“Good plan,” she responded in a far-from-steady voice as she pulled his mouth back to hers.

But the wretch on the other end of the phone seemed quite insistent.  No sooner had the talking phone gone silent than it started up again.

Emma growled, rolling away from him to reach for the phone.  “Sounds like they’re not giving up.  I better see what it is.”

Emma tapped at the screen for a moment, and then barked. “What?”

She listened for a moment before rolling her eyes.  “Just a second, Dad.  Killian’s here too.  Let me put you on speaker.”

A few more taps at the screen and then Dave’s voice came through the speaker.

“Like I said to Emma, Killian, I’m really sorry for the interruption; I know I offered to cover the station so you two could have a couple days off, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

Killian sighed.  They’d had six months of peace.  He supposed it was the best run they could hope for.  “Just what kind of situation?”

“Well,” David said slowly. “I…don’t know exactly how to describe it.  I know it involves lots of birds.”

“Birds?” Emma bit out.  “Dad, you interrupted us because of birds?  Isn’t that more Mom’s department?”

“She doesn’t know what to make of it either.  Besides, some of the birds don’t seem to even speak English.” 

Emma shook her head.  “I kind of hate that a sentence like that almost makes sense to me.  Still, why are you bothering us for birds–no matter what language they speak?”

“It’s not just the birds,” David said. “There are other oddities. Women dancing, people playing instruments, men randomly jumping up and down, cows being milked. Full-grown trees suddenly appearing.  I don’t know what’s going on, but it is truly bizarre, and you know how this town is.  The usual suspects are already starting to freak out.”

“I’m assuming Leroy has begun heralding the news?” Killian said.

David chuckled. “Obviously.”

In the background, Killian could hear the dwarf himself yelling “The bagpipers!  They’re here!”

“Anyway,” David said, “I’ve tried to calm everyone as best I can, but the rumor has already begun circulating that we’re under attack.  I wouldn’t ask it unless I really thought it was necessary, but I really think I need back up.”

Emma sighed again, pushing aside the covers and reaching for her jeans.  “Alright Dad, we’re on our way.”

“Never a dull moment, is there, love?” Killian asked, climbing from his side of the bed….just as the sound of a full on drum line began playing outside their bedroom window.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I think we need to go on the attack!” Leroy shouted from the back of city hall, as the impromptu town hall meeting began.  “This is our town, and we need to defend it!”

Emma rolled her eyes–she’d  been doing that so much already today that she feared she’d go blind.  Just when she thought things in Storybrooke couldn’t get weirder, something like this happened.

As she and Killian had driven into town, she could tell her dad hadn’t been exaggerating.  Everywhere she looked was something else out of place.  Fully grown pear trees, each with a bird perched on one of it’s limbs, blue birds with–if one could believe it–cell phones held to their heads.  Hen’s wearing berets and waving French flags.  Groups of swans performing some sort of synchronized swimming routine in the harbor.  Pairs of turtle doves nestled together, cooing sweet nothings in each other’s ears. Geese lying around in the street.

And that was only the birds.  As they neared the center of town, Emma began noticing the groups of people–people she’d never seen before–behaving in distinctly odd fashion.  There were the maids milking, the men in three-piece suits playing leap-frog with each other and the scantily clad women (shouldn’t they be freezing dressed like that in December?) seductively dancing to the music of a pipe and drum corp.

Right in the center of town, a set of five, huge golden hoops  sat upon the ground.  

(“Stay away from the rings!” she heard someone shout.  “Probably portals to some dystopian hellscape!”)

Regina, as the newly reinstated mayor, had taken control, promptly calling a town meeting and magicing the word out to all the town’s residents.

And so here they were, huddled together in town hall, trying desperately to make sense of…well, anything that was going on today.

Seriously, though.  Couldn’t whatever villain or whatever had done this have at least waited until after Christmas.  Rude.

“Who precisely do you suggest we attack?” Regina asked with a sneer.  “We don’t even know what is going on, let alone who has perpetrated it.”

“I might be able to answer that first question,” Belle said, from her place in the back next to her husband and sleeping newborn. 

“Yeah?” Emma asked.  “What do you think is going on?”

Belle got to her feet and looked over at the assembled town.  “Well, it’s Christmas Eve, and we’re seeing everything from partridges in pear trees to drummers drumming.  Think about it!  Every weird thing going on right now has something to do with one of the gifts from the Christmas song.”

Emma groaned.  Of course.  Of course someone had decided to mess with them by sending the twelve days of Christmas.

“So who do we think’s doing it?” Henry asked.  “Can anyone think of a Christmas related villain that might want to attack us?”

Various suggestions were thrown out there–from Ebenezer Scrooge to the Grinch, to Mr. Potter from It’s a Wonderful Life, but none seemed to quite fit the bill.      

“Well, we aren’t getting anywhere just speculating,” Emma said.  “If there is some kind of psycho Christmas villain going after us, we’ll have to wait until they make another move.  For the time being, it doesn’t seem like any of the birds or….performers…are causing any harm.  I guess just…don’t panic.”

“We’ve defeated much worse than eleven pipers piping!” Snow chirped up in a way-too cheery voice.  “This town will get through it the way we get through everything!  Together!”

The meeting had only just adjourned, when Emma’s cell phone began ringing. She looked down and frowned.  It was a long distance number.  A very long distance number.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Emma curled up on the sofa, bringing her legs up beneath her and leaning into Killian’s open arm.  She chuckled as she brought her mug of cocoa to her lips and glanced over at their huge, brightly decorated Christmas tree.

“Did you see Leroy’s face when that goose suddenly decided to stop lying around and started chasing him through the streets?  I thought he was going to start screaming like a little girl.”

Killian laughed, turning his head to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.  It was one of her favorite things about being with Killian, all of the simple, casual signs of affection.  “I’d pay an entire pouch full of doubloons for a moving picture of that moment.”

Emma laughed again.  “It’s amazing how quickly everyone’s mood shifted, though once we found out we weren’t in fact under attack.  Seems like nothing can dampen the Christmas spirit for long around here this year.”

No sooner had the town hall meeting ended, than Emma got a video call from Arendelle.  “Emma!” Elsa had said as soon as the call connected. “I’m really sorry about this.  I had no idea!”

Emma’s brow furrowed, and she exchanged a mystified look with Killian.  “You’re sorry about what?  I’d really like to chat, but we’ve got a bit of a situation here–like always.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Elsa said.  “Apparently Anna…”

“Did you get it?” came Anna’s perky voice as her excited face popped into frame.  “Did you get our gifts?  I mean, technically, they’re supposed to be for your true love, so maybe I should have given them to Kristoff, but I figured you wouldn’t care, even if Storybrooke isn’t my True Love.  I mean I like Storybrooke, but True Love is kind of a strong term.”

Elsa rolled her eyes.  “What my sister is trying to say is that she–without consulting me–decided to send Storybrooke the twelve days of Christmas, compliments of Arendelle.”

Killian nodded before taking a sip of his own steaming beverage.  “It was rather impressive how quickly and efficiently the town was able to rid the town square of the well meaning, if rather annoying gifts once they were assured that there was nothing nefarious going on.”

“And can you believe how quickly Granny was able to put that town-wide Christmas party together?” Emma asked.

“This town truly is a wonder,” Killian said, draining the last sip of his cocoa before turning his full attention toward his wife, “but I have rather a different idea of how I’d like to celebrate Christmas Eve with my wife than talking about the town.”

“Yeah?” she asked, setting her mug on the end table and turning to face him.  “Care to tell me what that is?”

He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows before shaking his head.  “Oh darling, I don’t plan to tell you.  I plan to show you.”

And he did just that–quite thoroughly, long into the night.

Just before they fell asleep, exhausted and exquisitely sated, Emma heard Leroy’s shout far in the distance.  “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”

NEXT CHAPTER->

[mauveastralderith]

DC x HSR : Nihility Tim Drake

so, it's start with two wayward Trailblazers who got stuck in a foreign planet, AKA DC Earth. Unable to return to the star rail, they've decided to make a life here, with the name of Janet and Jack Drake. Due to their knowledge of advance technology, they quickly build up a successful company, and move to Gotham, Bristol, right next(as in half a mile away) to the resident billionaire Brucie Wayne. Janet soon got pregnant with Tim, and nine months later a baby boy was born.

The two parents were contented at first, but they soon begin to miss their old life of traveling and trailblazing. And so, as soon as Tim start to be more independent, Jack have suggested going on a world trip, which Janet agree wholeheartedly. And so the two Trailblazers once again pick up their badges, and go on their merry way.

Leaving Tim behind with a nanny.

Tim should be around 7 years old at this point, he can read, and definitely know about the Aeons. He know that his parents are not Earth natives, but rather travelers from the stars who had stuck here. He wish he could be a Trailblazer too, so that he can join his parents on their journey. But his wish never come true.

And then Tim is 9, begging Janet to let him come with her and Jack, but she said no, Timothy, focus on your study, you're not fit to to travel with adults.

She and Jack left without saying goodbye the next morning, as a punishment for pestering them the whole week they're home. Tim woke up to a lonely house, and start to cry as the TV news play in the background as White noise.

Why can't he be with his parents? Why didn't they want him with!? What was he lacking?

If they can't be with him, why was he even born at all?

And at that moment, an oppressive gaze that as heavy as lead and yet as light as nothingness turn upon him. It like Tim is being suck in a blackhole, a blackhole with two white blobs as eyes. THEIRS passive gaze pass by him a second later, but what done is already done.

Just as the roots of his hair beginning to fade into a dull gray color instead of the original inky black, Tim fall from his sofa to the ground, his hand accidentally touch the TV remote and increase the volume. The loud talking snap him out of his trance. The gray recess, leaving behind just a few odd color strands, while Tim eyes stuck to the TV screen, now showing of footage of Batman and Robin.

He watch as Batman pat his sidekick hair, he watch as Robin smile back, a wide grin of his face. He watch as Robin do quadruple somersault, the same one that a black hair boy once promised to show him.

Forget about the existional crisis and all the stuff that come with being look at by The Nihility, IX, Tim have some detective work to do.

#Part 1.

#tim drake #DC #Honkai: Star Rail #dc x hsr

[collegetennisoriginstory]

Welcome back! Just a real quick clarification: You said you weren't able to finish everything you planned for the part 2 update (totally understandable given the circumstances + expanded wordcount!) but I'm slightly confused for what that means about the update schedule.

Is the plan for there to be one last CT:OS update with the singles matches and the rest of Sam's visit before focus shifts back to Merry Crisis, or are you immediately shifting gears to Merry Crisis and adding the remaining CT:OS content to the update after that's complete?

Hope your surgery goes well in the meantime 🙏

Hmmm good question. I kind of wanted to get a chapter of merry crisis in before Christmas but now it's looking a little difficult. I do have 80% of the singles match portion written, so I might just end up finishing that up before starting on Merry Crisis, which is not yet written/planned.

We'll see what I feel up to in the next three weeks or so, but it's leaning towards finishing up the singles match part of CT:OS before switching gears again!

[sadhappylady]

1, 6, 13 and 17 pls <3

Thank you so much for the ask!

Please, people, send more. My answers will be a little slow, because I don't have a good system, but I'll get to them eventually.

1.            favorite fanfic of all time

I will be unoriginal and say Everybody Loves You Now by @im-a-king-baby. It's just amazing. But Language of roses by despassurlaneige and That's how you make history, baby by waybeforeyourtime are close behind, I guess.

6.            favorite one-shot fanfic

There is no doubt about this one. It's The Upgrade by @groenendaelfic . (It's 12k, though. Does it really count? Yes, it does!)

13.          christmas fic recommandation

Oooh! I like this! I was thinking of making a list, actually, but didn't have the energy yet. But here you get it kind of from the top of my head (not rated)

1. not if it's you by @prince-simon

Nanny!Simon AU and Christmas kid fic that is totally cute, but stays just at the right side. (Kids are people, which means they are annoying and needy and have bad days, just like you and me, and I can't with the fics where they are always behaving and always cute. Sorry, a me issue!)

2. merry crisis by pysanky

Part of the third year things series, which I adore. Not a very merry one, but who says Christmas is always merry? Simon and Wilhelm are totally happy spending their time together. Why do they have to spend Christmas with their respective families?

3. 'Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish

Seriously super cute getting back together fic, set during Christmas. Aged-up characters, and some really great original characters, that we unfortunately don't see enough of. 

4. Make the yuletide gay by @cloudywilmon

A Christmas fake dating fic for you, my loves! Wille is convinced to help Sara out by pretending to be her boyfriend over Christmas. A splendid idea until he meets Sara's brother, Simon.

5. Almost Is Never Enough by This_time_its_just_me

Ok, this is not a Christmas fic. But there is this super cute, very fluffy Christmas celebration part that I just love, between all the angst and pining etc.

17.          the most reread fic of your year

I have no idea actually. Sometimes I read other people' rec lists, and I'm reminded of a fic that I haven't read for a long time, but really loved. Or I wake up at 4 o'clock and can't fall asleep, and I start thinking about something from a fic I read, and get the urge to go find it again. That's what happened last night with this one: You Have Reached the Voicemail Box of... by @zee-has-commitment-issues. I don't really keep track of how many times I read fics, even though I reread fics regularly. Sorry 🤷

Adding these, as well, to promote some less known writers and fics:

the last writer you suscribed to on AO3 ? NenasMom

the last work you suscribed to ? I think that was Where Have You Been All These Minutes? by NenasMom ☝️, I love it so far!

your last bookmark ? 'Tis the Damn Season by littelbluefish (the Christmas fic I recommended)

[sillypiratelife]

BASIC EXPLANATION OF THE PLOT + THE STRAW HATS ROLES IN THE FAKE PRINCE ZORO AU :

* please use this other post as a guide for places and character names.

— THE PLOT (SUMMARIZED?)

A storm belt catches the Going Merry during its descent from Skypiea, the strong winds roughly landing the ship into the bay of an autumn island.

Since they need supplies and Luffy is hungry for adventure, the crew disembarks. If the people of the island are surprised to see them, well... it's not everyday that a ship falls from the sky!

Reality quickly settles in when they are informed that the storm belt and the sharp rock formations around the island make it impossible for them to leave, even less with how damage the Merry is. If they want to survive, they'll have to wait a week for the storm to calm down and the tide to work on their favor.

Not everything is bad news, tho.

When the captain of the royal guard welcomes to their castle and presents their kingdom as Miria, the neverending light of Altus, he does it as if he's receiving a blessing from the heavens. Someone has kidnapped the royal family to sabotage the upcoming meeting or kingdoms. Only the King's still at home, worried sick about his family. Him and the mysterious son of the king, who should have returned by now, so chances are he must be delayed by the Grand Line.

Captain Ocher explains that the other kingdoms are coming from a spring island near them and that they agreed to one chance only. If they lose the opportunity to establish an alliance, there's no saying when a meeting could be set again.

It's all or never for the people of Miria.

Ocher begs for their help. They can let their crisis show to the other kingdoms and they can't wait until the meeting is over to search for the royals. The captain of the royal guard suspects such foul play has other meanings; he worries someone is planning to attack them while they are vulnerable.

To that, Luffy proposes finding the bastard and kicking his ass. Yet, it's never that easy, is it?

Here's the actual plan:

— Captain Ocher will stay with the King to protect the land in case of an attack. He will guide and coordinate most moves behind curtains, allowing the King to focus on the kingdom meeting and reassuring his people as much as he can.

— Zoro, Robin and Usopp would work undercover who's behind it all: if an enemy from within Miria or a person from another kingdom. To do so, Zoro would pretend to be the mysterious prince who just returned from the Grand Line, Robin would fake to be his personal royal advisor and Usopp his loyal childhood friend. They must keep their visitors distracted and help Captain Ocher fight and protect the city, in case things come to worst.

— Luffy and Nami would search for the royal family in the forest. Luffy can defeat anyone and Nami can figure out the landscape of almost any place. They must be careful though, since they'll be in the territory of the many creatures that live in the forest and claim it as their own. They must not drag attention to themselves (ha!), until the royal family is safe and sound within the castle.

— Sanji will assist Luffy and Nami, but he'll also return to the city at least once a day to inform the others about their progress. He must avoid being identified as one working with the royal guards, so he can pretend to be a farmer who sells his things at the market.

— Chopper will stay in wait, hidden in the farmer village near the forest. In case of an attack, he'll help the people evacuate to the forest and away from the chaos and battling. He'll also be the one to tend to the royal family after their rescue, in case they were injured or sick.

And so the straw hats being their new adventure, unaware (as always...) of the real danger looming above their heads.

— THE STRAW HATS ROLES

SEARCH TEAM

Luffy: 1/4 of the search team. His official job is to deal with the creatures of the forest, protect his team and fight any and all threats. His unofficial job is to bargain with the little folk and translate their economic system to Nami and Sanji, since their currency is bugs.

Nami: 1/4 of the search team. Her official job is to safely guide her team through the forest and find where the royal family is. Her other job is to keep the fools in line, obliterate the treasure hunting game of the little folk and steal every bit of gold she can find.

Chopper: 1/4 of the search team. He's job is to stay safe, wait for the search team to bring back the royal family so he can heal them and protect the farmer village in case of an attack. Unofficially he's the magical reindeer of the village and the amazing best friend of every child in town lol.

Sanji: 1/4 of the search team. The backup of both teams, the secret informer and the one making sure the search team doesn't starve during their adventure. Sanji is also the fake farmer who tends the new favorite stall of the captain of the royal guard in the market and the newest regular visitor of the witch near the forest bridge.

UNDERCOVER TEAM

Zoro: 1/3 of the undercover team. He must pretend to be Esmer Guillemot, the prince of Miria who sailed to the Grand Line at 12 years old and only now returned home. His job is to keep the other kingdoms clueless about the current crisis and to find the one responsible for the kidnapping of the royal family. Zoro's unaware that he's also a distraction for the people of Miria, who are having the time of their lives with the theatrics of it all.

Robin: 1/3 of the undercover team. Officially, she should be the one keeping the team in line and focused. In truth she's also having a lot of fun, both by the shenanigans of her nakamas and the terror she causes in others when she analyzes them in silence. Her other other job is checking Miria's library and later uncovering the real history of Altus and the kingdom across the mountains.

Usopp: 1/3 of the undercover team. He was born for this job because all he has to do is lie and lie until he can't anymore. They need the prince to be mysterious enough for the other kingdoms to be concerned with him and only him, right? Meaning Usopp has free reign to invent childhood anecdotes and Grand Line adventures that make Zoro uh, Prince Esmer sound appealing and undecipherable.

This is not everything there is to know about the Fake Prince Zoro au, but it's a headstart. I hope everyone who voted to know about the plot and the straw hats roles in it like this <3

If you have any more questions or if you're curious about a specific thing or want to know more 'bout what happens: come talk to me, send me asks or comments (both here and in AO3)!!!! I love to talk about this and I can't wait for a chance to do so!!!!

[merrycrisis-if]

Played through the update and holy crap! It was so good! Qiu’s scenes made me cry so much and hit so close to home especially when playing through the queer versions of the scenes.

Ahh! I'm glad you enjoyed the queer Qiu x MC scenes, and I hope that some of the scenes gave you some form of comfort, maybe!! Sending you lots of love and a big warm hug.

I have lots of stories about being queer in a kinda-liberal yet paradoxically rather homophobic (+ sexually repressed) country—some firsthand, some I've heard, so I really wanted to at least capture some of that in Merry Crisis, through Shay and Qiu and also Nat! (I'll get to explore Nat x MC queerness more in Chapter 5/6, but yeah the added dimension of Nat being a foreigner, and African-American definitely also affects the way MC's parents' view them.)

Plus the fact that I managed to finish writing it in time for Pride month is just icing on the cake :)

Thank you again for reading!

[polyamorouspunk]

I have a crush on this guy, and I really want to tell him. But I don't know how old he is. And I can't ask yet because I just mentioned a crush yesterday. How long do you think it'll take him to forget?

I feel this in my soul.

So like, if it’s someone I have a crush on, or a dear friend, I am not forgetting any time soon.

If it’s someone I’m acquaintances with, then maybe like when I see them for a few days or if they bring it up again.

If it’s someone I’ve never met before. Like I will literally forget customers I saw a few minutes ago. The other day someone told me they wanted to make an exchange and I forgot who it was and I started asking like everyone in line like “is this yours” and they were like uuuh no and I’m like I’m sorry :’) anyway here’s your stuff Merry Crisis :’)

I also look a LOT younger than I am. People do NOT expect me to be as old as I am. So when I think someone is in my age range there’s a good chance they’re not. And also when people crush on me they expect me to be around their age and I am not. And it makes it difficult and confusing.